#when it's over bc you deserve it after working hard all semester!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pascalpanic · 3 years

Note

Ok so i read a little snippet of the new interview w pedro and something stuck with me. He said something about loving to read aloud so IMAGINE FRANKIE. Like I have an idea maybe you’re like a college student who’s cramming for finals and assignments and all overwhelmed. One night before an exam Frankie reads your notes to you as you lie against him in bed. Like this mans voice lulls you to sleep. One page in you’re asleep but u can’t tell me the man doesn’t keep reading since he thinks maybe even in your sleep him reading your notes will help you remember the material for the next day I’m soft 🥺😭

Study Buddy (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

W/C: 2.4K

Warnings: crying, stress, mentions of food, alcohol, non sexual nudity, reader is studying psychology

A/N: this is.... the dream. like the actual dream. And I included ravioli the cat bc I love that little man :)

God, you can’t remember any of this shit on the page in front of you. It makes your brain hurt, and the fact that you’re studying psychology makes it all even worse. You’re studying what makes you tick, the reasons why you can’t remember it, and it’s endlessly annoying. Your eyes burn from how long you’ve stared at your laptop, hand cramping from the amount of definitions you’ve written several times in a desperate attempt to commit them to memory.

You’ve spent this Sunday at your desk, only getting up to use the bathroom. Your doting boyfriend, Frankie, brings you food, refills your water, rubs your shoulders for you. The final exam is Wednesday, but you’re still filled with anxiety over what you do and don’t know. It feels like everything you learned this semester went in one ear and out the other after the initial tests on the individual units.

This exam is important. The course is a heavily impactful one, naturally an essential knowledge base for the field of mental health work, and passing it with a good grade would be a real standout later when you’re applying for medical school. It’s safe to say the pressure’s on, and you’re feeling it squeeze down on you like a vise.

Frankie walks in again, about an hour after the last time, when he brought you graham crackers and hot tea. You lift your head to look at him, wincing as your neck crunches with the movement. Frankie winces for you. “Wow.” “I know,” you whine, rolling your neck side to side and working out the rest of the air bubbles that formed from staring down at the full notebook. Looking up at him, your eyes water from the constant light of your laptop, even with your blue-light glasses. “What time is it?” You ask.

Frankie sits on the edge of the bed, hands on his thighs. “Uh, it’s about 8 P.M. now.” Ravioli, his cat, lifts his head from where he’s curled on the bed. Frankie murmurs something and rubs the cat’s fluffy little head. Ravioli prances over to Frankie’s lap and curls up in it.

You groan and scoot your rolling chair over to him, his hand finding the tender spot where your neck and shoulder meet and rubbing the sore muscles. “Oh, honey,” he sighs, removing your glasses and wiping the small gathering of tears from your lower eyelids. “Can I run you a bath?”

“I don’t have time, baby,” you whimper, real heavy and hot tears forming as you look back at your desk. “A whole portion of the exam is gonna be on classical conditioning, and I can’t even tell the difference in the unconditioned and conditioned stimuli, and-”

As your words rise in pitch and the cry chokes your throat, Frankie pulls you out of the chair and into his lap. Ravioli nervously removes himself from Frankie’s lap, not wanting to be crushed as you two embrace. “You have all of tomorrow and Tuesday.”

“But I need to use tomorrow for parts of the brain and Tuesday for all-around final review!” You wail, burying your face in his chest and sobbing.

Your tears dampen his shirt but Frankie doesn’t care, he just wraps his arms around you tighter as you cry. He lets the tears fall for a bit, allowing you to get the tension you clearly need out… well, out. He rocks you gently in his arms, holding you in his strong arms and kissing your head. When the tears slow and your wheezes turn to small hiccups, Frankie gives a slow deep breath, knowing you’ll feel it and hoping you’ll mimic it. “You’ve been at your desk for nine hours, baby. It’s time to be done for the night. I’ll let you study a little longer, but I’m going to run us a bath. Okay?” He asks.

Nodding, you sniffle and wipe the tears from your eyes. “I got snot all over your favorite shirt,” you whimper.

Frankie shakes his head. “It’s nothing, querida. Go finish up and I’ll get the bath started.” He slides you back into your desk chair and rolls you back to your desk.

You wipe the snot onto the sleeve of your hoodie and look up at him with big eyes. “You’re too good to me, baby,” you coo, voice still watery.

“Just doing what you deserve.” Frankie stands behind you and removes the tight bun from your hair, letting it fall down and massaging your scalp gently. “Oh, honey,” he sighs as he sees you visibly relax. “That was tight.”

“Didn’t even notice,” you murmur as your eyes slip shut, falling back into Frankie’s strong fingers as they trace your sore scalp. He kisses your forehead and walks off to the bathroom, making you sigh and put your blue light glasses back on for the final few minutes of studying.

With these moments, you review things you already know, deciding to use part of tomorrow to focus on the classical conditioning components again. It’s incredibly basic, you know, and the fact that you don’t get it makes you even more frustrated. You break your own rules and stare at the blank diagram, trying to properly label them, only to feel angry tears welling up.

“Pavlov was an asshole, doing all that tempting to his dogs,” Frankie chuckles as he walks in to see you at the segment again. His small smile falls when he sees your eyes are watering. Helping you from the chair, he shuts your laptop and notebook and wraps his arms around you. “Hey. You’ll get it, baby. Taking a break and coming back helps, right? Didn’t you call that…”

“Spaced practice,” you nod. “Or dispersed. Either term works,” you sniffle.

“See? I’m learning from you. You’ll have your M.D. in no time.”

You give a weak chuckle and walk with Frankie to the bathroom, sighing as you smell your favorite candle and notice that he turned the bathroom light to a soft orange glow. He’d insisted on putting in the color-changing lights recently, and you have to admit you enjoy them. The tub steams with clear water and you turn to Frankie to frown only to see him holding two bath bombs. “Your choice. I know you like picking.”

This makes you finally break from your scowl into a small smile. You pick your favorite, one with pink and purple swirls and a rose on top. Frankie nods and lets you take it. “You do the honors. I’ll go get the bubbles.”

Before he can turn, you stop him and take his face in your hands, kissing him lovingly. “You’re the best,” you tell him with a weak smile.

“How about some wine too?” He offers, rubbing your side.

“God, let’s run away and get married,” you laugh and rest your head against his chest. “Yes, wine please, baby.”

“Be right back,” he smiles and kisses your forehead.

You squat and drop the bath bomb in the water, sighing as the steam becomes scented of jasmine and sage. The water swirls purple and Frankie returns in a few moments with a bottle of red wine and lavender bubble bath. Sighing, you stand to full height and stretch, your back aching from the strained position. Frankie helps you remove your hoodie, slipping it off and tossing it aside before removing his own clothes.

Frankie pours some of the opened red wine into two glasses, then drizzles some bubble bath into the tub. He turns on the jets for a moment, letting the bubbles foam to the top. He slides in once he’s fully naked, grabbing his wine from the side and sighing. “Come on in.”

Smiling over at him, you tie your hair back and slide in, sitting on his lap in the water and grabbing your glass of wine too. You rest your head against Frankie’s broad chest and he turns on the jets, swirling the warm water around the both of you.

It’s just as relaxing as he’d hoped it would be. You sip your wine as he snakes an arm around your middle, kissing the top of your head. You’re both fully naked, but the moment isn’t anything sexy or hot. It’s just loving, snuggling in the warm water.

Handing Frankie your glass, you slip beneath the surface of the bubbles, fully submerging yourself in the deep tub. God, you’re glad Frankie chose the deepest tub they had. Popping back up, you push back your hair and sigh, nuzzling back into his chest.

“Is this all okay?” Frankie asks you after a bit, having set his wine aside and wrapped both arms around you.

Turning off the jets to talk, you smile contentedly as his warm body envelopes you. “So good. God, you’re amazing.”

Frankie smiles at that and squeezes you a little tighter. “You deserve it. You work so hard all the damn time, and you’re so beyond smart. I’m so proud of you, and you need to be treated like this.”

The mention of your work alone makes your body less fluid and relaxed as you start going over your studying plan to make sure you have everything ready for the next few days. Frankie can feel it. “Hey. Relax. Do you want me to help you study?”

You open your mouth to say no, but the offer intrigues you, making you pause. “How?”

Frankie shrugs. “I could quiz you. Read your notes to you.”

His voice always makes things stick better. You remember things much better in Frankie’s voice, holding every little thing the man says in extra high regard. “That would be lovely, baby. Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” he mumbles and kisses behind your ear.

Frankie pours you another half of a glass and by the time you finish it, the water has become lukewarm. The two of you drain the tub and dry off. Frankie brings you warm and clean clothes, a pair of cotton shorts and one of his hoodies. “You know me so well,” you beam at him and kiss him slowly. “When this is over, I’m gonna give you the best fuck of your life for being so good to me.”

Frankie has to laugh. “I mean, I’ll never say no to that, but you don’t have to. This is what partners do. This is my job as your man.”

“‘Mmm, and what a good man you are,” you purr as you nuzzle into his body once your clothes are on. “Gonna go take my meds and meet you in bed, okay?” You ask.

“Sure thing.” He kisses your head and pulls on his pajamas, blue plaid boxers and an old t-shirt, a grungy old thing with a terrible graphic relating to the Delta Force.

“You wanna put some pants on?” You tease, admiring his bare legs beneath the soft fabric.

Frankie yawns, stretching his arms above his head, before shaking it and smiling at you. “Mind your own business.” He retreats to the bedroom, and you can hear him cooing to the cat.

Taking your pills in the kitchen, you return to the bedroom and smile to see Frankie snuggled under the covers, Ravioli’s whiskers sniffing at Frankie’s face. The cat stands on Frankie’s chest, investigating his face. When he sees you, Frankie lifts Ravioli off his chest and pulls back the blankets. “Get on in here.”

Grabbing your thick notebook, you snuggle into the bed, resting your damp head on Frankie’s chest. Frankie kisses your wet hair, wrapping his arm around beneath you and taking the notes from your hands. He cracks it open and sighs. “Alright, brace yourself. I don’t know how to say any of this shit.”

You laugh, resting a hand on his chest. “Do your best.”

“We’ll see,” he chuckles and reads over the page. “Do you want me to quiz you or just read to you?”

“Just read, please,” you say softly as you let your eyes fall shut, absorbing Frankie’s warmth and Ravioli’s weight as he lies down on your feet.

His voice is so soothing. It always is, everything about Frankie is. His voice is low and soft, only loud enough for you to hear it. He begins explaining the difference in the Broca’s and Wernicke’s areas, and even though he clearly doesn’t understand the meaning behind the words, his lovely voice makes them stick.

He reads to you as you get sleepier, the weight and exhaustion of your burning eyes bringing you closer to drifting off. Before you do, you catch yourself and open them, smiling at the cat snuggled at your feet and the rise and fall of Frankie’s chest.

“Will you read me the bit about the different components of classical conditioning?” You ask quietly, hoping his voice will make the concept clearer or at least more memorable.

He nods and his scruff brushes over your forehead as he readjusts his head. Your hand rests on his soft belly, the warm skin and tufts of hair leading lower. He’s like a human comfort blanket, and you can’t help but nuzzle closer into his body.

Trying to go slowly and understand the concept himself, Frankie reads aloud the differences in the conditioned and unconditioned responses and stimuli. As much as you try to focus, your mind slips away into a warm fog, only emphasized by the lilt of his deep voice.

It doesn’t take long after one last yawn. You succumb to the sleep, and your whole body melts into the mattress and into Frankie. One slow sigh tells Frankie that he has succeeded in relaxing you.

Careful not to shift you too much, Frankie leans upwards to toss the notebook on the desk. It lands with a slap, making you jump and startle awake. “Shh, it’s all good, baby, it’s just me,” Frankie murmurs to you, stroking your back through the hoodie.

That’s all you needed, a reassurance that Frankie’s got whatever it is covered. You give half of a nod and rest your head on his chest once more, returning to the slightly deeper sleep.

As your breath slows, so does Frankie’s. He just barely holds back a yawn, clenching his teeth so that he doesn’t make enough noise to wake you again. Once his eyes slip shut, he’s done for, and your little family is all asleep on the bed: you and Frankie intertwined, and the cat at your feet.

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bbugyu · 2 years

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hello, love! IT’S BEEN A MONTH SINCE MY LAST ASK 😭 just finished my midterms and i’m binge watching brooklyn nine-nine rn bcs I Am Too Tired ☹️ .

btw, idk if u remember but the jeonghan thought is still in my memory 🤩 it’s just like .. y’all just finished and hannie was the first to eat the takeout that just arrived, so you tie your hair in a ponytail to prepare but your shirt just rises and reveals you in your panties so he stares at you intently Like .. Babe You Want Another Round Or Something ??? there’s just something about how he checks you out and so after eating, you both went for another one 😭 (i’m suffering)

- 🐰

HI BUNNYYYY welcome back!!!! proud of you for finishing midterms 💞 and omg b99 is one of my fave sitcoms of all time (even if it is copaganda) that is sooooo deserved. you work hard you get to laugh now. i even include a reference to it in my classic epilogue wip 😭 i swear i'll post that one day

and NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OF COURSE I REMEMBER

jeonghan going for another round??? before ten hours have passed??? damn he must be down bad for his recovery time to reduce like that SHVAHDABJSBD like yall musta been apart for too long.... like he's been super busy with his schedule and perhaps.... you've been busy with midterms hehe 😋 and he finally makes it to your little studio apartment and he beds you immediately. you tease him for barely saying hi before he's trying to undress you and he just whines and is like "we can talk in a second, please, i need this. i need you."

but you've been just as desperate for some relief so you don't argue anymore, you don't even tease. you just let him kiss you and admit that you need him, too. and that makes him practically growl as he's tugging your shirt over your head.

when the two of you are sprawled out over your covers, naked and panting with a light sheen of sweat on both of your bodies, he coughs once and asks how your exams went. you laugh and tell him that they went well, and results would be posted the next day. he grins over at you, getting up on one elbow to kiss you slowly. "i missed you."

you blink at him twice. "i missed you, too."

"let's order food?"

"please."

he disappears to the bathroom to clean himself up a bit, leaving his phone with you to place the delivery order, and the two of you catch up while you wait for the food, laying next to each other in bed, only half dressed because putting on pants is too much effort for you, and he claims you make him too hot to wear a shirt. you joke that combined, you make a fully clothed person, and he laughs. you're propped up on your elbows, holding his hand in both of yours, studying the creases in his fingers as he tells you about all the shoots he's been doing lately. he tells you anecdotes about the members. you're giggling and saying you're jealous, that you barely have time to hang out with friends these days. that you need to make plans to see some over your short break between semesters.

you retrieve the food when it arrives, politely thanking the delivery man while keeping your underwear clad behind hidden by your door, and jeonghan puts on a shirt to resist the urge to smack your ass when you bow and shut the door. because you just finished. and you're both hungry. but god, he missed you.

so you hand him the bag of food and tell him to start without you because you need to use the restroom real quick. he sets up at your little table and spreads all the food out, and you return, working your hair into a pony tail as you get ready to sit across from him.

and he stares up at you, the way your shirt lifts, his chopsticks caught between his lips as his mind goes blank. "you're so mean."

you laugh, sitting down. "what did i do?"

"how can you look like that?" he asks, annoyed. "we just had sex, and you're making me all excited again. it's so unfair."

"what did i do?" you repeat, incredulous. "all i did was sit down!"

"agh, seriously," he refocuses on the food, head cocking angrily. "you're awful."

"you're awful," you argue, grabbing the chopsticks he had set out for you, starting with the food. "how is it my fault that you're too busy?"

jeonghan can barely focus on eating after that, one thing on his mind the entire time, and you repeatedly catch his eyes wandering all over you. gaze running down your neck, watching the way your tee hangs over your collarbones. when you finish eating and stretch out across your floor, knees popping up, satisfied with the meal, he's staring at your thighs. the two of you are cleaning up and you're quickly washing the bowl you used for dipping sauce and the chopsticks so you don't have to worry about them later, and he's behind you as soon as he's done sorting the trash.

"jeonghan," you warn, recognizing the way his hands run over your hips and his lips at your nape.

"yes, love?"

you sigh, placing the chopsticks on your drying mat. "what are you doing?"

and his hands are under your shirt, caressing your waist, finger tips slipping under the waistband of your underwear. "enjoying our fleeting time together."

"jeonghan," you warn again, and he just responds by tugging your hips back, his already stiffening member slotting between your ass cheeks. you gasp, rubber gloved hands landing on the edge of the sink. "h-hang on-"

"i don't wanna," he mutters, kissing your neck, one hand running up your stomach to fondle at your nipple, and your head falls back to his shoulder. "you don't want me to, either."

"we just-" you jolt when his teeth dig into your neck. "w-wait, don't leave a mark-"

"why not?" he asks, despite pulling his teeth from you before the skin could bruise. you bend over forward, desperately trying to get the gloves off your hands and shutting off the water, and jeonghan looks down at your barely clothed behind, massaging the soft flesh. "can i leave a mark down here?"

your mind is swimming. "what do you-" and you let out a surprised whine when he slaps you, his hand immediately massaging the stinging skin. "fuck, han-"

"do you feel that?" he asks, his dick fully hard against you now. "this is because of you. we can't go this long without seeing each other, it makes me insane."

he pulls your underwear taught against your crease, and you whine again, shaky hands trying to hold yourself up against your counter as he rubs himself against you.

"i'll never get enough of you," he mutters, pulling your underwear aside and slipping a finger into your warmth. you let out a moan, head hanging forward as he curls the finger against your walls. "you seem just as excited," he teases.

"that's what happens when you - ah! - spank me out of nowhere..."

"dirty," he says, purposefully provoking you, and you suck your lip between your teeth when he pushes another finger into you, your hips instinctively pushing back against him. he smirks at your responsiveness. "should i fuck you right here?"

your eyes shoot open. "wait, n-no, han," you gasp, his fingertips finding your spot. "wait, it's dirty."

"just like you," he says, leaning forward to kiss gently at your nape, and you whine as your knees begin to knock. "your back is arching like you want it now."

you pant, eyes barely able to focus, and you resign. "fuck, just do it."

he bites his lip, grinning as he pushes down his shorts and underwear over his hips, rubbing a hand over his member once as he stares down at your crease. "gladly," he says, holding your underwear aside with a thumb as he pushes into you, and you let out an elicit moan at the way he feels.

and before you can even beg him to move, his hands are gripping your waist, guiding your body to meet the movement of his hips, and you're gasping as you try to keep some stability against the counter. you throw your head back when he speeds up, and you let out a stuttered moan of his name.

"fuck," he groans, and his hand finds the base of your ponytail, holding your head steady as he fucks into you, and you let out a surprised whine, the restriction turning you on even more. but even as he's slamming into harshly, pulling your hair, nails digging into your ass, all that he can do is compliment you. tell you how beautiful you are, how good you feel, how sexy you sound with his name on your lips. how much he missed you. how much he loves you. you're practically whimpering as your walls tighten around him, and he groans, telling you how good you're being. begging you to cum for him.

you moan, the tone of your voice increasing as you repeatedly say you're about to cum, and he lets go of your hair in favor of pushing your shirt up your back, hands holding you firmly as he fucks into your fluttering walls. you let out an erotic moan as you release, knuckles white as you grip at the edge of the sink, eyes watering when you clamp them shut, and jeonghan is panting behind you, cursing, his hips losing rhythm as he nears his own high, and the way your walls twitch around him from overstimulation makes him hurriedly decide he needs to pull out.

and you feel him shoot up your back, your arms practically giving out in relief, unsure if your poor hole could handle any more. theres nothing but the sound of the two of you breathing as jeonghan stares down at hoe perfectly your ass cradles him, his seed slowly dripping down your back.

"fuck," he sighs out.

you swallow, throat suddenly dry from all the work your voice had put in. "fuck," you agree.

he's carefully cleaning your back with kitchen roll while you drape over your counter, exhausted, legs shaking, and he kisses your spin gently and pulls your shirt back down to tell you that he's done. you stand, needing the full support of your hands on the counter to straighten you sore back, and he has a dopey grin on his face when you finally turn to him.

"i love you," he says, his arms around you as he places a kiss on your lips.

you linger for a moment, enjoying how sweet his smile tastes. "i love you, too."

he adjusts his grip on you, studying your face in the way he always does before he asks you something. you give him a questioning look.

"what?"

"nothing," he says, pouting.

"spit it out," you giggle, leaning back against the counter.

he shakes his head, a smirk sneaking its way across his lips. "it's nothing."

"it's not," you insist. "c'mon, hannie-"

"let's shower together," he interrupts, and he instantly grins at the way your jaw drops.

"you're insane," you say, pushing out of his hold.

he laughs, following you with his arms around your waist as you try to escape him. "c'mon, let's wash up together. you don't wanna?"

"no funny business," you say, a finger in his face when you turn in his grip towards him. "i'm already not gonna be able to walk tomorrow."

he bites his lip, leaning into you. "what if i use my mouth?"

#OOOOOPSNSNSNDJSBFJSNFND #this #ummm #🤕#🐰 anon #congrats on ur midterms this is ur reward!#love u!#ask #svt hc #hannie #smut

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tsumusamu · 3 years

Text

call you mine iv [miya atsumu x fem!reader]

genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

word count: 11.3k (i’m so fucking sorry i don’t even know what happened)

warnings: slow burn, poor quality of writing and plot bc i suck

part one / part two / part three / part four (you are here)

content under the cut!

You suck your teeth in frustration, staring hard at the last question on your Chemistry exam. You could swear up and down that you studied this topic just last night in your final cram session before the big day, but your brain just can’t seem to come up with a response that doesn’t sound like complete bullshit.

You will forever question why you are required to take so many science classes when your business major is never gonna require the ability to balance chemical equations or recite the periodic table.

A literal lightbulb goes off in your head as you finally formulate a reasonable answer. You glance up at the wall clock at the front of the room and realize you only have a minute left to write whatever you could onto your paper before time is up. Your heart rate picks up considerably as you begin to hurriedly scrawl your answer as fast as your poor hand (which has already been aching for days thanks to the many final papers and practice questions you’ve been spending your time on) possibly can.

Not a second after you dot in a period at the end of your last hastily-written sentences, the bell rings, signaling the end of class — and your semester exams. One more semester of hell and you’ll be done with university.

After your professor collects everyone’s exams, you pack up your things and join the crowds of students in the hallways that are eagerly pushing their way out of the building and to the freedom of semester break. You just can’t wait to get back to your apartment and crack open the fridge to grab some of that delicious green tea ice cream that Mika had made for you to celebrate the end of the semester. The thought of the dessert that’s waiting at home makes your mouth water and you’re so relieved that you can relax for a few weeks before the school starts up again —

“(L/N)! Wait up!” Someone jogs up to fall in step beside you. It’s Ryota, a boy who you rejected the affections of a while back. You still feel a little guilty about it, especially since he’s your seatmate in Chemistry and he always greets you politely despite the fact that you turned him down.

“Hey, Ryota.” You smile at him. He looks a little flustered as he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck with his right hand, eyes darting around and looking everywhere but directly at you.

“Um…” He finally looks in your general direction with considerable difficulty. “I just wanted you to know that… my offer… it’s still open…” Ryota trails off into a mumble and he stares at his shoes. “If you ever decide to — I mean, really, only if you want to — give me a chance, um, just call me.”

You bite your bottom lip, gaze falling down to the ground as well. “…Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” Truthfully, you probably won’t. Ryota’s a nice kid and you enjoyed working with him during labs (he’s usually quite the jokester and very loud during class, always making you laugh) but you just don’t want to lead him on. He deserves someone that’s not already head over heels for someone else.

You mentally scream at the reminder of that someone else. You managed to remove him from your thoughts for the past few weeks while you were studying but now it’s all starting to hit full-force and you’re just not ready to think about the sticky situation you’d gotten yourself into.

“Have a good semester break, (L/N).” Ryota waves goodbye to you, and you return the gesture. You can see a bit of hurt reflecting in his expression, and you really do feel kinda bad. But you know it’s for the best in the long run.

You pick up your pace as you finally exit the building, now officially starting your walk home. There’s a giant billboard that looms over an intersection that you’re waiting to cross, and you only grimace upon seeing the familiar image. MSBY Black Jackals, ambassadors for Adidas.

The red hand signal on the other side of the street seems to linger longer than usual as your traitorous eyes wander to the billboard, drinking in the picture once again. You know on the other side of the billboard are Meian, Shion, Adriah, and Oliver; you sort of wish that was the side facing you at the moment. But no, Bokuto, Hinata, and Sakusa, each decked out and posing in Adidas wear, beam (well, in Sakusa’s case, glower) down at you. And at the far right is Atsumu, a wide grin on his features as he bites his bottom lip in what you suppose was an attempt to be sexy (you remember that you had teased and laughed at him for days after that photoshoot).

Your stare longingly up at his advertisement, a knot tying itself in your stomach. You walk by this advertisement every day on your way home, yet you still stop and stare each time. Right now, it's a reminder that you need to find time to properly talk to him soon. This stupid tension between the two of you needs to be resolved.

You sigh, tearing your eyes away as a pedestrian behind you shouts, “Hey, lady! Stop staring at those pretty boys and move it!” You jump, sheepishly ducking your head down before hurrying across the street.

You're determinedly staring straight ahead this time.

“Hey!” Mika greets you cheerfully as you walk into your shared apartment, tossing your keys into the fish-shaped dish that you keep them in. Atsumu never liked that dish, always saying that it's creepy and —

“Hi, Mika.” You force a smile on your face, shoving the thought of Atsumu out your head.

“How were your exams?” She’s already moving to get her homemade ice cream out of the fridge, and a small spark of excitement ignites in your chest at the reminder of the treat.

“Fine,” you reply. You figure you at least passed everything.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that! You worked so hard, bet you aced everything.” Mika grins, holding out a spoon and a cup of ice cream. “Eat this, you deserve it.”

“Thanks.” You accept the treat and sit down at the kitchen table, eagerly digging in without another word.

“What’s wrong?” Mika peers concernedly at you as she scoops a portion for herself. “You just finished your second-to-last semester! You should be proud of yourself.”

“It’s not that.” You stuff another spoonful of ice cream in your mouth. It’s absolutely delicious, but you can hardly focus on the taste.

“Worried about next semester already, huh?” Mika chuckles. “It’s alright, time will fly by fast. And before you know it, you’ll be all done.” Mika’s a year older than you and graduated last year with a nursing degree. She quickly found a job as a nurse at a nearby hospital. Speaking of jobs, you really need to land a solid one soon in preparation for graduation. You’ve been digging through endless advertisements for good openings to no avail.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you hum casually, glancing distractedly down at the tiled kitchen floor.

“Okay, seriously. Tell me what’s up.” Mika arches an eyebrow at you. “You’re acting really weird.”

“Nothing.” You finish your ice cream and take the opportunity to escape Mika's suspicious stare by getting to your feet to wash your spoon and empty cup in the kitchen sink. “I think I’m just gonna take a nap. I’m really tired.”

“Alright, rest well then,” comes your roommate’s baffled voice as you quickly make your way to your shared bedroom, hardly glancing in her direction as you go.

You collapse onto your bed face-first, stuffing your face into your fluffy pillow before letting out a muffled scream that you’ve been holding in for way too long. Now that your studies are finally out of the way for time being, the elephant in the room is finally making its presence known once again. You roll over onto your back after a few minutes of lying there like a dead fish only to stare hopelessly up at the ceiling.

It’s been two weeks since Osamu came to visit, and since he’s left you haven’t really been in contact with Atsumu. The two of you have barely texted since that day, and your conversations were brief and dry. The day you spent with him and Osamu after the whole embarrassing ordeal from the night before had been nothing short of ‘awkward as hell’. The two of you had subconsciously wedged Osamu between you throughout the day, whether when it was just walking down the street or sitting at a restaurant. You had come to a silent mutual agreement to not speak about what had happened, and like the very socially-inept children you are, decided to make it even more uncomfortable for yourselves instead of talking it out like actual adults.

It shouldn't be such a big deal — except it is. You both know you were drunk (yet he doesn't know that you meant every word you said) and you should've just been able to laugh it all off. Instead of that, the two of you have just chosen to ignore the other's existence for two weeks. You've never gone this long in your entire life without at least a short phone call. It's so bizarre; a little thing like that shouldn't be breaking your friendship apart but here you are.

Several times, you’ve clicked on Atsumu’s contact, about to send him a message, before a sick feeling in your stomach stops you from doing so. You still don’t quite understand why that’s happening; he’s supposed to be your best friend, for God’s sake. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to say anything, too anxious to see what might happen if you do. It’s not like he’s tried to message you either, so maybe he doesn’t even want you to say something.

You shift over to your right side, spotting your stack of textbooks sitting near your desk. You scowl at the familiar sight. You've had many fantasies about burning your textbooks in recent times but they were so damn expensive that you figured that doing so would go against your best interest. Still, as you eye the books sitting there so innocently, you’re having second thoughts.

You really think you’re losing it.

Just stop distracting yourself and call him already, a voice in your head chides. What’s the worst that can happen?

You suppose you should really try and put that night behind you; it’s been so long already and there’s no purpose in dwelling on it for however more days and weeks are to come. Plus, now that your exams are over, you don’t have an excuse to keep ignoring the situation. You sigh deeply, rubbing tiredly at your eyes. It’s time to actually attempt proper communication, something that you and Atsumu definitely haven’t been practicing for a while now.

You fish your phone out of your pocket. You stare blankly at the last conversation you had with him. It was from three days ago. He had asked you if you had borrowed his Black Jackals hoodie. You said no. He did not respond.

You sigh again before pulling up Atsumu’s contact pressing ‘Call’. You can’t help but crack a smile at his familiar name and photo. He had insisted that his contact name be “THE SEXIEST GUY YOU KNOW” with a plethora of fire and smirking cat emojis, while his photo is a double-chinned selfie taken while he was pooping out a “fat shit” as he had so kindly informed you when he sent you the picture over Snapchat. God, you really hate him sometimes.

The phone rings a few more times, and there's no answer. You let out a quiet sigh of disappointment; of course you don't expect him to pick up his phone instantly every time you call but you just really wish you could hear his voice right now.

Your mind can't help but wander back to a few weeks ago, and mentally cringe once more. You know you should've tried to talk things out with Atsumu the day after the incident instead of running away like you frequently have been lately, but you just can't even begin to imagine the sheer amount of awkwardness that would likely fall between the two of you. One of the things you loved most about Atsumu is how comfortable you are around him; you're way too afraid to ruin it.

You don't realize how much time you spent laying in bed, head swimming full of nervous thoughts, until a text tone sounds from your phone. You hesitantly glance over to look at the message preview, and it's from Atsumu.

Hey, sorry I couldn't pick up. Was at practice. Can't call tonight either, I've gotta sleep early. Let's talk later.

Punctuation and capitalization? Your face scrunches up in confusion. Oh god. Why is he texting you like that?

Before you can start overthinking every single word of his text, you force yourself to shake the thoughts out of your head. That's not important right now. What you should be focusing on is getting your best friend back. You shouldn't be worrying about whether Atsumu returns your feelings or not, or if his texts are way more awkward than they usually are. You just want to talk to him again. Get things back to the way they were.

You decide that you'll try to catch him at the end of his practice tomorrow. You can ask Bokuto what time their practice will end, and you'll stop by the gym to see Atsumu.

You'll try to make things right.

Bokuto and Hinata are waiting for you near the entrance of the gym, and rush to greet you as soon as you enter.

"Hey, (Y/N)-chan! Long time no see!" Bokuto claps his hand on your shoulder in a friendly manner, making you involuntarily wince at the sheer force behind it.

"Hi, Kou." A tangerine head peeks out from behind Bokuto. "And hey there, Shouyou-kun."

"(Y/N)-san! It's nice to see you again!" Hinata grins widely.

"You too." You smile warmly. "And hello, Sakusa-san." The curly-haired man gives you a respectful nod in passing as he leaves the gym.

"Atsumu-san's still in the locker room. Want us to show you where it is?" Hinata offers helpfully.

"Sure, Shouyou. That'd be great." You follow Bokuto and Hinata into the gym and towards the locker rooms. You're struggling a bit to keep up with their long, fast-paced strides, but they don't seem to notice as they continue to chatter enthusiastically.

"Hey, please slow d — " You lost them. How the hell did you fucking lose them?

They were right in front of you, chattering away, and they rounded some corner and... disappeared?

You cluelessly look left and right. You're inside the massive locker room, with multiple hallways and rooms designated for different teams. You decide to find someone who can hopefully give you directions.

You hesitantly go left, where you can hear people talking from behind one of the doors on that side. You pull down on the handle, pulling the door open with a too-loud 'Creak!'

Ten or so heads turn towards you in curiosity.

Your cheeks immediately color, because you've just peeked into a room full of half-naked men with towels around their waists.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You compose yourself as quickly as you can, forcing a polite smile onto your face.

"Excuse me, where can I find the Black Jackals' locker room?"

"Who's asking?" one of the men questioned suspiciously. You bite your bottom lip nervously.

"I — "

"Oh, c'mon! Don't be so uptight!" A man with sandy hair steps forward. "I'll take you there, follow me!" He smiles at you, but you're a little skeptical of the weird gleam in his eyes. Like he knows who you are, and has some kind of malicious intent.

The man strides out into the hallway, still only wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, and throws a casual arm across your shoulders. You grimace, inching away.

"Do I know you?" you blurt out.

"You're (L/N), right? Seen you with Miya before." The male smirks, raising his eyebrows. "I'm Nakamura. Starting setter for the Blue Eagles. Practiced with your man today."

"He's not 'my man', and stop touching me." Your tone is cold. "Thank you for offering to show me to the Jackals' locker room. Please lead the way."

"Harsh." Nakamura laughs carelessly, but takes his arm off of you. "Right this way, Ice Queen."

You strongly dislike him already.

Nakamura leads you down the hallways to another door, but before either of you can reach for the handle it bursts open to reveal a very worried Hinata.

"(Y/N)-san! There you are! Sorry we lost you!" Hinata's concerned expression fades into a mixture of confusion and irritation as he notices smugly smiling Nakamura standing next to you. "...What are you doing here?"

"Just showing the little lady the way to get here." Nakamura's shamelessly eyeing you like a piece of meat. If it wasn't against your better judgement, you'd slap him right about now.

"Thanks." You barely look at him. "See you a — "

You're cut off as someone pushes past Hinata and pulls you into their bulky, brawny arms.

"What the hell did I say last time? Didn't I tell ya to never come near her again?" Atsumu sounds enraged, his grip on you unrelenting as he presses you against his bare chest.

...What does he mean by 'last time'? you wonder briefly before flushing. Oh my God, how many half-naked men am I going to see today...

"Fucking relax, dude. I wasn't trying anything." Nakamura is still chuckling, but now with a note of fear.

"Get out of my sight before I break your nose." Atsumu takes a threatening step forward, and although you can't see his face, you can tell that he's genuinely furious by the clenching of his fingers into the fabric of your shirt. For a moment, you think Atsumu's actually about to pounce on Nakamura, as you feel his muscles tense threateningly.

"Prick," Nakamura sneers one last time. You breathe a sigh of relief as the sound of his footsteps disappear down the hall.

"Are you okay?" Atsumu's large hands cup your cheeks and lift your face so he can look at you properly. Hinata slinks away to give you two privacy. Atsumu inspects you carefully, his chocolate eyes scanning you for any sign of harm. "Did he touch ya? Did he hurt ya?"

"No, no, I'm fine." You push his hands away and wriggle out of his grip. You need to focus, and you definitely can't do that when you're smushed against his naked torso. Atsumu watches you with a slightly wounded expression as you remove yourself from your embrace. "He doesn't matter. I came here to see you."

Atsumu's features soften. "Ya came to see me?" he parrots you.

"That's what I just said, i-idiot," you stammer out, face involuntarily flushing when Atsumu smiles that stupid smug smile of his.

"Right, ya called me last night. Again, sorry I couldn't answer," he says mildly, tugging his black t-shirt over his head.

"No, it's fine. I think it's best that we chat in person anyway." Your voice is shaking a little, and you pray that he doesn't notice. If he does, he's at least nice enough not to say anything.

"Oh, no. How did I screw up this time?" Atsumu grins once more and his tone is lighthearted, but as his best friend of over a decade you can tell he sounds a little strained — nervous, even.

"It's just — I, I just wanted to say th-thanks, for that night. When I was wasted in your apartment, and you took care of me." You didn't really plan well what you were going to say to him, and it's clearly showing now and coming back to bite you right in the ass. Atsumu stares blankly at you.

"Uh, no problem. Ya always look after me when I'm drunk, so just take it like we're even now, 'kay?" You want to slap yourself; although Atsumu isn't gonna say it out loud you know he's wondering why the hell you took time to chase him all the way over here just to say that.

"So, about what I said..." You're really digging yourself into a rabbit hole now; it feels like you can hardly control your speech now. Oh my god, shut the fuck up (Y/N). Keep this up and you're gonna end up confessing on accident.

"Confessin' what?" Atsumu's confused voice cuts into your thoughts, scaring the absolute living daylights out of you. You nearly jump out of your skin, eyes widening to stare at him like a deer in headlights. No way you just said that to his face. "(Y/N), why're ya so on edge? Really, did I do somethin'?" You laugh nervously, shaking your head and trying to get yourself together.

"No, no. Don't worry about it. Putting that aside, I wanted to come and see you. It's been a while, so..." You ramble, trying to change the topic.

"Yeah, it has." Atsumu is still peering at you, expression full of bewilderment. "Thanks for comin' around — "

"Oi, Miya!" One of Atsumu's teammates calls him from deeper in the locker room. He turns his head in the direction the voice is coming from. "Coach wants to talk to us, get your ass over here!"

"Ah, I should go." You quickly latch onto this opportunity to escape. You really do feel stupid. You took all this time and effort to come here and now you can't wait to escape. You just can't help it, though, not when you're both suddenly emotionally constipated around each other.

"(Y/N), wait outside for a bit, then we can go out to din — " Atsumu cuts himself off when he looks back and sees that you're gone. His eyebrows furrow together in confusion, his jaw slackening. What the hell has gotten into her?

"Miya!" His name is called again. Atsumu sighs, forcing himself to push you out of thoughts. At this point, the only thing that can distract him from the odd situation that the two of you have found yourselves in is volleyball.

He's not that stupid — he knows that there's some tension between the two of you. Unbeknownst to you, he's also taken time to consider how to resolve it. Unfortunately, Atsumu's found himself just as clueless. Where does the line between friendship end and start to bleed into something more? How long has he been toeing that line with you, too scared to cross it?

In the end, all that matters to him is that he can't lose you. Atsumu had thought that the way to remain by your side is to be your loyal best friend forever. However, lately, he had begun to question if this promise he had made to himself is what is going to end up being his biggest mistake.

His feelings are still there, after all. No matter how much he sometimes wishes they weren't.

Sometimes, Atsumu finds himself almost jealous when he sees his friends and teammates with random people, seemingly without a care in the world. He can't say that he's completely innocent and has never done the same himself, but he always feels uncomfortable after the fact, because they're not you.

Which unforgiving deity had made him give you his heart so early on, branding him forever with the blessing of loving someone like you yet with the curse of unrequited affection?

"Miya, why do you look like you're having an existential crisis? Snap out of it." A frowning Meian suddenly appears in front of him. "Are you okay? You've been doing this way too much, more than what should be seen as normal." Atsumu quickly straightens up, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Don't worry about me. Just been feelin' kinda rough, lately. It's nothin'."

He wishes it really were nothing.

"(Y/N)." You jump when Mika's voice enters your ears, and almost cut yourself with the knife you're using to chop carrots. You clear your throat awkwardly and set down the knife, turning to face your roommate, who looks very confused. "Are you alright? You've been really jumpy lately. Did something happen?" Truthfully, Mika's been extremely worried about you. You've always been a pretty upbeat and collected person, even under stress. Seeing you look so detached and on-edge for the past month rubs Mika the wrong way. It's just so unlike you. At first, she had chalked it up to you being concerned about exams, yet you're still acting strange even though they're over now.

"No, I've just been... um, stressed about work," you say, your voice coming out a few octaves higher than normal. Mika casts you a skeptical look, making it very clear that she didn't believe a single word of your bullshit.

"Aren't you taking fewer shifts during your semester break to rest?" she reminds you. You chew nervously on your bottom lip, letting out a nervous laugh.

"Right," you reply, going back to cutting carrots. Mika thankfully changes the subject.

"What are you making?" she asks, taking a seat at the kitchen table to watch you cook.

"Oh, a bento." You gesture to the freshly-prepared fatty tuna sitting on a bed of cooked rice already in a container.

"For who?" Mika presses. You swallow, almost stabbing your own finger again in your distracted state.

"...'Tsumu," you say after a beat. "I'm gonna visit him tonight." It's been about a week since that awkward meeting in the locker room, and you haven't been in contact with him since. The silence is absolutely killing you, and you decided to suck it up and go over with a peace offering: his favorite fatty tuna bento. You hope that it'll be able to clear the awkwardness between the two of you and things could go back to normal. Well, as normal as they can possibly be.

"I've been meaning to ask; how is Atsumu? You haven't been hanging around him lately," Mika notes. You stiffen. "Alright, so you don't wanna talk about it. It's okay."

"No, no, I..." you trail off, putting down your kitchen knife to rub the back of your hand against your right eye, sighing slightly. "...It's kinda complicated."

"So I can tell," Mika comments dryly.

"This time, I just don't know how to fix it." You feel your shoulders tremble a little, and you quickly force yourself to calm down. You've never been the open-book type; talking about your feelings has always been difficult for you. Thus, when you're put on the spot like this, it's hard for you to open up.

"You're both still in love with each other?" Mika quips.

"H-Huh?" You look up at her in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"Even when I barely knew you back in high school, it was obvious." She raises her eyebrows. "I saw the two of you twice in my life before we became roommates. And even I knew you and Atsumu had something going on."

"There was nothing," you reply glumly. "You know I like him, but he doesn't feel the same."

"Oh, sweetie." She gives you a look of pity, which only serves to confuse you.

"What?"

"(Y/N), honey, I thought you were smart." Mika sighs. "Do I need to spell it out for you? Atsumu's just as in love with you as you are with him. Maybe even more so." You've already stopped listening, turning your attention back to making Atsumu's bento.

"He's really not," you say . "It's nice of you to say that, though." Mika briefly considers slamming her head against the table in pure frustration. "I wish I had a relationship like you and Daishou-san do."

"Believe me, dating him isn't easy either." She rolls her eyes. "He literally acts like he's five years old. Sometimes I feel like I'm more like his mom than his girlfriend." You both chuckle a bit. "I wouldn't trade him for the world, though."

"Yeah." You smile, a little wistfully, as you sautee the carrots and some broccoli in a pan. "Maybe one day I'll find someone that I can love like that."

Mika just hopelessly shakes her head behind your back. "Something tells me you don't need to look too far."

You don't reply, occupied with cooking the vegetables and looking as lost as ever.

You realize that maybe you should've texted Atsumu before you came to his apartment, because you completely forgot that you don't even have a key card to enter the building. You can see the silhouette of the security guard lurking inside. The guard is big and beefy; could definitely knock you out with a punch or two. Don't be stupid, (Y/N), he's not gonna hurt you. You think about calling up Atsumu, but you, for some reason, decide against that notion in favor of walking up to the door. You breathe a sigh of relief when you realize that the guard on duty is a middle-aged man called Aito, who you've encountered many times over the years and recognizes your face.

"Hi, (Y/N)!" he greets you as he opens the door for you with a smile. "Here to see Atsumu?"

"Yup." You hold up the homemade bento, which is nearly tucked away in a plastic grocery bag. "Surprising him with this."

"I'm sure he'll love it." Aito laughs heartily. "Kid's a real hotshot now, huh? All famous and stuff. I see his face everywhere."

"Sure is." You hum. "He's worked hard for all of this."

"Right he has." Aito gestures toward the elevator. "Well, don't keep him waiting!"

"Thanks, Aito." You quickly wave goodbye before hurrying towards the elevator. You press the button for the seventh floor. Your hands suddenly start getting clammy as the elevator goes up and up and up, your heart rate speeding up a bit. You have to keep reminding yourself to stay calm; there's no reason to panic. He's your best friend, after all. He'll be happy to see you.

Probably.

Him not saying anything after the awkward misunderstanding last week really did hurt you. Did he not care enough about you to even bother even sending a simple text or two?

By the time you arrive at the seventh floor, you're thinking about closing the elevator doors and going right back to the lobby. You're seriously tempted, but the weight of the bento in your hand reminds you that you came here for a reason: to finally resolve the odd tension between you and the boy you care so much about.

You quickly step out of the elevator and start walking down the halls before you can allow your thoughts to drive you away.

You stop in front of Atsumu's door, delivering three hard and loud knocks. You wait for a few seconds. No answer. You knock three more times. Still nothing.

You're about to knock again, when suddenly, you hear something that makes you freeze. A soft moan. Then a guttural groan. All followed by a breathless, feminine scream of Atsumu's name. You can clearly hear the rhythmic creaking of a bed and a chorus of filthy words and curses spewing out from your best friend's mouth as he pleasures himself and the woman in his apartment.

You take two steps back from the door, heart pounding in your ears, and the grocery bag with the bento slips out of your fingers and clatters onto the ground with a resounding and echoing thump. The noises inside the apartment pause, and you hear Atsumu let out an annoyed grunt.

"Ya need somethin'?" You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. You just stand there silently like a complete idiot as Atsumu continues to ask for an answer. You stay rooted to your spot even when you hear his heavy footsteps approaching the door, his deep voice grumbling out complaints about being disturbed.

The door swings open, and you flinch, quickly stepping back even farther until your back hits the wall behind you. Atsumu's in his doorway wearing only his boxers, which hang low on his hips, and his hair is messy and rumpled.

How many damn times am I going to see him half-naked? you briefly muse before a slight feeling of despair spreads within you at the frosty expression on Atsumu's face.

"Who's there?" His eyes are glinting a bit wildly as they zero in on your small figure pressed against the opposite wall. He glares angrily at you for half a second before he realizes who you are, and his features immediately soften into confusion.

"...(Y/N)?" Atsumu's voice cracks a little as he drinks in the sight of you, dressed in one of his hoodies (which you had planned on returning during this visit) and a pair of dark jeans, looking as beautiful as ever. He's always loved how his clothes completely swallow your figure; you look adorable and... his. You look like you belong to him, when you're dressed up so cutely in his too-large clothing, and that's all he's ever wanted. For you to be his, and for him to be yours.

Even if such a thing will never be true, he lets himself pretend at times.

He knows he's missed seeing you, but the feeling finally fully hits him as you shift uncomfortably on your feet instead of running to him and tackling him in a hug like you usually did after a long time apart. Taking in your nervous and apologetic expression, Atsumu immediately regrets shouting at you; if he had known you were coming he would've never invited a girl over at all.

"Sorry for bothering you, 'Tsumu." Your voice is so awfully, awfully small, and Atsumu's heart clenches painfully.

"Yer not botherin' me. Yer never botherin' me," he says gently, but you still don't look up at him.

"Guess I should've told you that I was coming. My b-bad." You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. Holy shit. Talk about bad timing. That's not his fault, though. I really should've checked with him before showing up.

Yet, despite your reasoning, a small flame of jealousy and bitterness still ignites deep in your uncomfortably churning stomach.

"Yer always welcome here, (Y/N)." His voice cuts into your thoughts, low and gentle. Atsumu takes a step out of his apartment, but quickly stops when you subconsciously brace your hands on the wall behind you, shoulders trembling and breaths shaky.

"I think I should go," you say quietly, but before you can move Atsumu strides forward, placing one of his hands next to your head and effectively trapping you against the wall. Your eyes widen at the sudden movement, instinctively shrinking back a little. Your reaction causes hurt to flicker into Atsumu's expression as he tilts his chin down to meet your gaze.

"...Don't," he finally breathes after a moment. "Don't go." Atsumu hesitantly leans in closer, and this time, you let him. You're completely lost in those familiar chocolate eyes that you've loved for so long; they seem to pierce through your very soul in the most beautiful way that makes you feel so adored and protected. He, and he alone, has had your heart all this time and you know that will never change; not as your breath hitches in your throat when he moves just a bit closer, not as your heart rate increases tenfold when his gaze flickers down to your trembling lips.

Little do you know, similar sentiments are filling Atsumu's thoughts at the giddy feeling of you so close to him. He notices the way you follow his own gaze down to your lips. You bite down nervously on your lip, a habit that Atsumu's noticed on you for many years. But at this moment, it took every single rational part of him to keep himself from crashing his lips into yours.

You're just so close.

What do you want from him?

Do you want him to hug you? Comfort you? Stand in silence? Kiss you?

He's willing to do anything to erase that worried crease between your brow and see you smile in that way that sends his heart into overdrive.

You're not pushing him away, yet you're not doing anything to get closer. Atsumu's waiting for you to speak, to say something, anything to enlighten him on what exactly is going through your head. But there's nothing, nothing as the two of you silently stand there, only inches apart, like utter buffoons.

A large, warm hand cups your left cheek. You don't move away. Instead, you find yourself leaning into his touch. Atsumu takes this as a green light to do something.

His first instinct is to brush a feather-light, barely-there kiss against your cheek. You flinch a little, but Atsumu's strong arms come to circle around your waist, holding you steady.

Atsumu's lips trace softly against your cheek, drawing a trail up to your ear, where he whispers, "Why're ya here?"

"I... I just wanted to see you," you mumble. "I... didn't know you'd be busy. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." He suddenly pecks the shell of your ear, causing you the jolt slightly in surprise. "Like I said, yer always welcome."

Stop looking at me like that. Stop touching me like that. Stop talking to me like that. Stop it. You're giving me hope.

"I should go," you repeat lowly, cowering away into your little corner of denial again; even after all of the pep talks you've been giving yourself for this moment, you still feel unprepared to finally face him.

"No, I'll..." Atsumu pauses, eyebrows furrowing. "I'll... take care of everythin'. Just come in for a while, 'kay? We can hang out. Watch one of yer corny kids movies. Think there's still some of the snacks that you and 'Samu bought; those shits never expire anyway. We can eat those. How about that?"

The shining, hopeful glimmer in his beautiful, chocolate eyes makes your chest ache with longing.

It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair. Stop getting my hopes up. It's not fair.

You want to stay. You really, really, want to.

And you should've stayed. But your eyes decide to trail down from Atsumu's earnest expression to his neck, which is covered in blooming, purple love bites. Something terrible in your gut just wrenches.

You know you have no right to feel this way. You're just his friend, nothing more, and yet the selfish, horrible part of you reels in distaste at the thought of him loving someone else. Wants to deny the fact that your feelings of jealousy stem only from your own foolishness of not being able to accept things the way you are.

Why do you always keep wanting more when you know you can't have it?

You suddenly want to run far, far away.

And, in your vulnerable state, you decide (against your better judgement) to do just that.

Slowly, hesitantly, you place your hands on his broad shoulders and shove. He doesn't budge for a moment, as the force of your push wasn't all too much, but quickly gets the hint. Despair flashes across Atsumu's face as he backs off with small, wounded steps.

It's silent in the hallway again. All you can hear is the rapid, deafening pounding of your heart in your ears.

Neither of you know what to do next.

You then remember why you even came here in the first place.

"I made you something." You halfheartedly gesture to the bento on the floor, which is luckily still perfectly intact, "...I hope you like it. See you around." Not giving him another chance to say something, you practically dash away, not looking back even when you hear Atsumu calling your name, asking you to wait.

You know you're being unreasonable and overdramatic, but you can't help it. You know that Atsumu's obviously no blushing virgin, but you've never actually caught him in the act until now. In fact, you've noticed that he tries to keep you unaware of that side of him, but you're no fool.

You try and ignore the tingling sensation still lingering in your body from when he held you so tenderly just moments before.

You don't even realize that you're crying until Aito stops you on your way out of the building, asking what's wrong.

"Nothing." You plaster a smile on your face. "Goodnight, Aito." Aito watches you in confusion; you usually stay much longer than this. It's hardly been twenty minutes —

Oh. He briefly remembers when he had seen Atsumu enter earlier that evening, an unfamiliar lady in his arms. Neither of them had come down since.

"Take care, (Y/N)." And he has the same look on his face that many people have given you lately. One of pity.

Atsumu knows he should try to chase after you. Sprint down the halls (even though he's practically naked) and catch up to you to wrap himself around you and plead with you to stay. But he doesn't. He stays frozen to his spot, watching you disappear into the elevator.

A note of dread fills his body as his eyes trail down to the small bag you had left in front of his apartment. With shaking hands, he picks up the bag, opening it to reveal a bento. He recognizes his favorite, fatty tuna, though the clear glass lid of the container.

Tears suddenly prick at Atsumu's eyes as he takes in the beautiful bento that you had surely spent a good amount of time preparing just for him. Perfectly-cooked fatty tuna (his favorite) is arranged neatly on a bed of rice. Carefully-diced carrots and broccoli fill one of the smaller compartments, while a hard-boiled egg occupies the other. The container is still warm to the touch (you must've just finished cooking) and the food emits a pleasant, mouthwatering aroma despite being packed away inside the plastic container. He's a little puzzled as to why you suddenly would make him a bento, though; you're a good cook but you rarely put your skills to work due to lack of time.

A small note written in your handwriting then flutters from the bottom of the container.

I hope this tastes good, and even if not, can we be friends again, Tsumu? I miss you.

Atsumu clumsily picks up the note, reading the message over and over, finally realizing just how much had changed between the two of you in recent times. Did you really think he didn't want to be your friend anymore? The thought had never even crossed his mind...

"Atsumu, are you okay?" His fling for the night suddenly appears in the doorway, fully clothed with concern written all over her face. Atsumu just sighs, wanting to keep the awkward conversation short and simple. She's a nice girl and he invites her around often, but they're not emotionally connected like that.

"Yeah." His grip tightens on the bento and the note.

"I figured you'd like me to leave," she says simply. "That's her, isn't it?"

"Huh?" Atsumu's eyebrows furrow in confusion. What is she talking about?

"(Y/N)." She grins a little as Atsumu's mouth drops open. "You know, the girl you kept wanting to text when we were watching that movie earlier." Atsumu grimaces, slightly embarrassed.

"You saw that?" The memory of him opening and closing your contact in his messages flashes clear in his mind.

"Sure did." She playfully pats Atsumu's cheek as he stiffens like a board in surprise at her words. "Call me if you need me, baby boy, but you better do something about her before it's too late."

Atsumu can do nothing but stare blankly at her retreating back as she leaves him standing dumbly in the hallway, homemade bento clutched firmly in one hand and your handwritten message in the other.

Mika's not used to seeing you cry.

Sure, you're not happy-go-lucky 100% of the time, but more often than not you're not splayed on the couch wrapped in multiple layers of blankets and crying your eyes out.

She fetches you another cup of water, worry building up within her as you muffle your sobs with the blankets.

You had shown up back at the apartment much sooner than Mika had expected, and that had already been a sign that something went wrong. You had calmly walked over the couch, sat down, buried your face in your hands, and then let out the single most devastated sob that Mika had ever heard. That alone was enough to induce her motherly instincts to bring you blankets and comfort.

Even though she wants so badly to know exactly what had happened, she kept her mouth shut.

Mika sits on the floor next the couch, drawing patterns on the fluffy carpet below her, waiting for you to say something. You're sipping the water she brought you, eyes still glassy with tears and bottom lip wobbling. Your hand holding the cup trembles, and you quickly set it down before a mess is made. You then burrow back into your little nest of blankets, shoulders shaking with each hiccupping breath.

"Why..." you suddenly mumble, voice hoarse and exhausted, "W-why am I so selfish?"

"Selfish?" Mika frowns. You're far from it. You're of course not the most generous person on the planet Earth, but never once in her years of living with you have you ever come across as selfish.

"I-I want him." You hiccup. "I w-want him to l-love me." Your roommate's expression drops. No way... did that idiot actually reject you?

"He does," she tells you firmly. If the lovesick way Atsumu looks at and talks to you is enough to go off upon, then she has plenty of evidence. There's no way Atsumu actually turned you away... right?

"Not like that." You sniffle. "I-I mean like, a lovey w-way."

"He does," Mika repeats. You only hum disbelievingly, letting out a soft sigh.

"I d-don't, I don't want to c-cry over him a-anymore." Your grip on the blankets tighten. "These s-stupid feelings I've h-had for him all these years... they're j-just hurting both of u-us." You really are upset at yourself in this moment. You know the way you're reacting to this situation is probably overkill, but you can't help it anymore; you've been holding down your emotions for long enough.

"You're not selfish," Mika tells you gently, but you don't respond.

"I just w-want my best friend b-back..." You take a shuddering breath. "I need to s-stop being selfish a-and let g-go."

"Let go?" your roommate echoes, not really sure what you're getting at.

"Mika." You lift your head from the blankets, your teary, bloodshot eyes burning with a new kind of determinedness. "Can you still find me a blind date?"

You're nervous.

How could you not be? You're about to go on your first ever official date. Your first date, in your twenty-three years of life. (It's almost laughable).

"You look great, (Y/N)," Mika reassures you. "And you're set up with a good guy, plus Suguru and I will be there too."

After your meltdown over Atsumu a few days ago, Mika had quickly fulfilled your request for a blind date, setting you up with one of her boyfriend's old acquaintances who happens to still live in Tokyo. The plan is that you and your blind date would go on a double date with Mika and Daishou to (hopefully) make things less awkward.

And perhaps you had expressed that you don't want to be alone with some random person that you've never met for your first date.

Mika keeps reassuring you that the mystery guy isn't weird or creepy or anything that needs to have you worried, but you can't help but look at yourself and wonder if this is just a huge waste of time. It's not like your feelings for Atsumu had just suddenly vanished into thin air; they're still very intact and are taunting you as you get ready for your date with the notion that you might be leading a poor boy on.

And you can't exactly feel great about yourself either after ignoring Atsumu's texts from the past few days.

You figured you would answer him after your date, not wanting to back out of the arrangement because of your (still intact) undying love for Atsumu, but the messages still linger in your head.

Can we talk?

Are you okay?

I would've been fine if you stayed

Did you get home safe?

Nvm, Mika told me you made it

When can we meet up again?

Take care of yourself, I miss you too

"We're going to meet them in five minutes." Mika's voice cuts into your thoughts, and you give a small start. She smiles comfortingly, giving you a reassuring pat on the back. "And trust me, your date's gonna feel so damn lucky. You're beautiful."

You stare at yourself in the mirror, uncertainty washing over you as you assess your appearance once more. The four of you are going a fancy, upscale restaurant with a formal dress code (you hope to God that you wouldn't have to crack open your wallet to pay for anything because you're broke as fuck), so you had to dress yourself up. You're wearing a royal blue, satin cocktail dress lined with a delicate sweetheart neckline. A simple silver pendant (Mika's) is clasped across your neck and a pair of open-toed, black heels sits waiting at the door. You had even taken time to do your makeup and style your hair. After only seeing your sleep-deprived, stressed-out reflection staring back at you for the past few weeks, even you have to admit that you look like quite the sight for sore eyes (literally).

All for this blind date with a guy that you might not even end up liking.

Stop being so negative, dumbass.

You're not going to let yourself ruin the experience before it even starts.

You look fantastic, the restaurant's reviews are great, and the guy you're meeting will be amazing. You just have to keep telling yourself that.

Mika basically has to drag you out of the apartment because you can't stop zoning out thanks to your overthinking.

Daishou Suguru, Mika's boyfriend, lives in the Aichi prefecture, which is a good few hours away from Tokyo. But he comes twice a month to visit Mika, and every time you see them together, they look like the happiest people on Earth.

You can't help but crack a small smile when she suddenly breaks away from your side as the two of you approach the restaurant, running up to her dark-haired boyfriend and throwing her arms around him. Almost instantly, Daishou's face lights up with a fond smile, hugging her back before pecking her forehead.

"Oh, long time no see, (Y/N)." Daishou greets you with a friendly grin. He then gestures to a familiar tall, well-built man dressed in a sleek, black two-piece suit. Your jaw slackens in surprise as the man runs a careless hand through his ruffled black hair with a relaxed quirk of a smile on his lips.

"Nekoma captain?" you blurt, almost choking on your saliva.

"Hey there, Inarizaki manager. Been a while, hasn't it?" There stands Kuroo Tetsurou, former captain of Nekoma High, grinning down at you, and suddenly, all the tension in your shoulders relieves itself.

You and Kuroo had met at training camps back in your high school days, and while you never became extremely close to him, you had helped his team run drills with Inarizaki and of course brought water and snacks when needed. You had also engaged in conversation with Kuroo multiple times during and after practices, and he was overall charismatic and easy to talk to. He was (and probably is) good friends with Bokuto as well, so you had spent time in the same circle of friends at camp with him. All in all, you like Kuroo, and suddenly, you feel so much better about this date. At least you wouldn't be with a total stranger after all.

"Good to see you again, Kuroo." You smile warmly back at him.

"Oh, didn't know the two of you knew each other," Daishou remarks with a raise of his eyebrow.

"C'mon, everyone who was involved in high school volleyball knows each other," Kuroo points out rather sardonically.

"Shut up, of course I knew that, Rooster Head." Daishou and Kuroo glare at each other for a brief moment before Mika slips in sheepishly and pulls Daishou towards the restaurant before gesturing you and Kuroo to follow.

"Reservation for Daishou!" Mika chirps to the hostess. The four of you are led to two neighboring tables a few feet apart from each other. Mika and Daishou occupy one, and you and Kuroo the other.

"So, why're you here, (L/N)?" Kuroo suddenly asks you as the two of you settle in your seats and leave Mika and Daishou to be lost in their own little love world.

"W-What do you mean?" you stammer out, not expecting such a blunt question. Kuroo laughs.

"Sorry, guess that was rude of me. But last I heard from Bo, you were still dating Miya, so I was a little confused when you of all people suddenly showed up."

"Huh?" You frown. "I was never dating Atsumu."

"What?" Now it's Kuroo's turn to look confused. "You were never with Miya?"

"Never." You groan slightly. "Why does everyone think that?" Kuroo is silent for a moment, questioning his existence. "I'm here because I just... wanted to try out this whole blind date thing. It's new to me."

"I see." He nods slowly, clearly still not really processing your words.

"Why're you here?" you suddenly ask.

Kuroo blinks; you caught him off-guard. "Me?"

"Do you see anyone else around here?" You raise a brow. Kuroo can't help but chuckle. Even in the short time that he's spent with you in the past, he'd already grown a friendly liking towards you.

"I owed that snake bastard a favor." He sighs deeply. "Plus he was annoying as hell and kept begging me." Kuroo changes his voice into a whiny tone. "'Go on a blind date with my girlfriend's roommate, I promise she's hot' blah blah blah." You scoff. "I mean, he's not wrong," he adds as an afterthought after briefly checking you out from across the table.

"Kuroo, what the hell." You flush involuntarily; you don't know what to say as you just realized you have no fucking idea how to flirt.

"You can call me Tetsurou, by the way." Kuroo grins. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"Sure, Tetsurou." You hide your flustered state with a shaky smile. "So I guess I'm (Y/N) to you, now."

"'kay then, (Y/N)." His eyes flicker down to the menu in his hands, and a look of brief confusion crosses his face. "Look, I don't know about you, but I can't pronounce anything on here."

You immediately look at your own menu, and it's filled with fancy dishes in a foreign language — French? — that your Japanese education had not prepared you to say properly.

"Yeah, me neither." You both stare blankly at the menu for a few moments, then burst into laughter.

"It's okay, we can just point at something random," he suggests.

"The cheapest thing, please," you groan. "The lowest price I see on here is already gonna make my pockets hurt." Kuroo snorts.

"Forget it, you're not paying tonight, (Y/N). Choose whatever you want."

Kuroo doesn't let you argue further, but you still go for the cheapest thing on the menu.

"How's life been treating you since high school?" Kuroo questions as the waiter disappears into the kitchen with your orders. You sigh.

"Well, I'm in my last year of uni. And still very unemployed for the near future. You?"

"Oh, I work for the Japan Volleyball Association," he says casually. "I actually saw your boyf — I mean, Miya, play at one of the games I was required to attend recently."

"C-Cool." You wince a little at the mention of Atsumu, which Kuroo quirks an eyebrow at, but you keep talking to distract from it. "What's working at such a big and important company like, then?"

"Fun enough. And not-so-coincidentally, I still get to work with one of my best friends. Do you remember Kenma?"

"Of course." Kenma and Kuroo were always two peas in a pod during high school, after all, so you've met and talked to Kenma a few times. Despite his usual unwillingness to talk to people he doesn't know, he'd always been pleasant to you.

"He's a famous hot-shot streamer now, and JVA's partnered with him to help further promote volleyball as a professional sport." Kuroo smiles rather fondly. "Kenma hasn't changed much, if you're wondering."

"Don't think you have, either."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Not really."

"Well, that's a relief." You both chuckle. "And you haven't changed either, (Y/N)."

"Really, now?" You raise your eyebrows.

"Yeah, 'cause you're still in love with Miya." You had been sipping from your water glass, and suddenly choke upon hearing this.

"What?" you splutter.

"You're cute and all, but no offense, I have no intention to date you." Kuroo yawns. "Like I said, the only reason I agreed to a blind date is because that slimy snake wouldn't leave me alone. I was just lucky it turned out to be someone I knew." You aren't all that surprised or disappointed if you were being honest; yeah Kuroo is a nice guy and you enjoy talking to him but the thought of actually dating him hadn't even crossed your mind.

"Okay, that's fine. But what does that have to do with Atsumu?"

"Why aren't you with him?" Blunt as hell.

"Because, genius, feelings need to be mutual for a relationship to work," you deadpan. Kuroo stares at you like you've grown an extra head.

"You've got to be joking."

"What would I be joking about?" At your remark, Kuroo's expression turns even more incredulous.

"(Y/N), I don't think I'll be the first to tell you this, but — "

You don't hear the rest of what he says, because your attention had already been directed elsewhere.

You had seen Hinata's bright orange hair first.

No way. It's just Hinata, right?

Then you see Bokuto's two-toned silver and black hair. Maybe the two of them went for dinner together just because?

Next is Sakusa's head of curly dark locks. Fuck.

Meian. Shion. Adriah. Oliver. They're all present.

That means, there's then, of course, Atsumu. It's a whole MSBY Black Jackals team banquet.

Your best friend, who you are currently ignoring because of an extremely awkward situation that had occurred a few days ago and who you are definitely not ready to face, is sitting a few feet away from you. Thankfully, his back is to you, because you don't even want to start imagining what kind of cringeworthy things would happen if he saw y —

Hinata makes eye contact with you.

No. No. No.

You stand up suddenly. Kuroo doesn't even seem all that shocked at your sudden rush to leave the table; he of course saw the Jackals file in and even let out a low whistle of secondhand embarrassment. You appreciated his gesture, but you need to take a moment and collect yourself.

You rush towards the ladies' room, not noticing a pair of chocolate brown eyes that catch onto and trail after you.

The bathroom is thankfully empty when you walk in, as you immediately brace yourself by the sink. Your heartbeat is roaring in your ears and your mouth has run dry. You can't believe you're getting this worked up when nothing has even happened yet. How overdramatic can you get, (Y/N)?

You breathe in and out, deeply and slowly. Nothing is going to happen. So what if Atsumu sees you? Nothing bad's gonna happen. There's no reason why you should be panicking. He has his own business to attend to, and you have yours. End of story.

Now get out of this stupid bathroom and the enjoy the rest of the night with Kuroo eating the random expensive shit that you ordered. Don't worry about Atsumu.

You take all but two steps out of the bathroom before you bump right into someone. You already know who it is without looking up by the way they place a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, 'Tsumu." A gut feeling had already told you that this encounter would be unavoidable. Atsumu's dressed nicely in a white button-down shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks, proper for the restaurant's standards. As soon as you tilt your head up to look at him, you're reminded of how weak you truly are, because he's also wearing the wounded expression of a kicked puppy. You've missed him and his stupid pouty face so much.

"Didn't know ya'd be here..." He clears his throat awkwardly. "I was worried about ya. Why haven't ya answered any of my messages?" Atsumu's lower lip juts out even more, his big brown eyes filled with concern.

"I've been... preoccupied," you say lamely, not exactly sure how to explain that you were trying to block him out so you could focus on trying to have a good blind date. Looking back, it now seems like a very dumb idea.

"Yer..." Atsumu pauses, and his face contorts in confusion as he realizes what you're wearing. Holy shit. It's not that he doesn't like your choice of clothing, in fact, that's far from the truth. He's always known that you're beautiful, but here is just another reminder. Your pretty face looks back at him with an almost calculating expression, but he still takes the time to admire all your features, from your mesmerizing eyes to your cute nose to your very kissable lips (or at least they certainly look very kissable, because sadly he has never had the pleasure of trying). The silky royal blue fabric that hugs your figure so tantalizingly seems to mock him as it shines and shimmers under the light of the chandeliers above with every small movement that you make. His heart leaps into his throat, his breaths suddenly turning shallower —

"On a date, yes," you finish his train of thought. There's a short, but tense silence as Atsumu is quickly plunged back down to Earth.

"With who?" His voice comes out more accusatory than he intended it to, which clearly throws you off because you immediately square your shoulders in a defensive manner.

"Remember Kuroo Tetsurou?"

"Nekoma's old captain?"

"Yeah, him."

"Why him?"

"Why not him?" You glare briefly at each other for no apparent reason.

"D'ya even know him?"

"Well, I ended up on a blind date with him, and I'm clearly trying to get to know him."

"Why're ya suddenly dating? I thought ya were too busy to?"

"How is that any of your business?"

More glares.

"I don't want to be mad at you, Miya, so I'm going to ask you nicely to leave me alone right now."

"What? M'just looking out for ya!"

"You're not doing shit."

"(Y/N), ya can't just date people that ya hardly even know — "

"Like you're one to talk!" You're fuming now, and you already feel that this will be a recipe for trouble if you don't calm down in the next five seconds. "You, of all people, should not have a stick up your ass about this." Atsumu's mouth drops open slightly, and you can see a flicker of hurt flash through his eyes. Your heart gives a stir, but you know you have to stand your ground this time. This boy is not going to call you out for being on a date with someone you hardly know when he —

"Ya can't!" he suddenly blurts.

"Can't what?" you grit out, fists and jaw clenched.

"I..." Atsumu suddenly goes quiet.

"I don't want to fight with you." You force yourself to calm down a little; nothing good would happen if the both of you are so high-strung.

"I know." A pause. "I'm... M'sorry." Atsumu sighs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, his forehead creased with slight frustration. "You... you go and have fun, 'kay?"

"Thanks, I will," you reply rather brusquely.

"Really liked the bento by the way," Atsumu suddenly mentions, as if he's afraid you're just going to walk away if he doesn't keep the conversation alive. He gives a weak attempt at smile. "Was delicious. Thanks."

"Good," is all you can get out.

"Yeah, good."

Silence.

"Well, I don't want to keep him wai — " you start.

"I love you, (Y/N)."

Silence.

That familiar feeling of a mixture of euphoria and despair washes over you as you hear that phrase from him once more.

And for a few moments, you want to believe it's the kind of love you've always wanted from him. The warm, gooey kind that filled you with warmth the brim with affection and adoration. The kind that made you crave hugs and kisses and proclamations of devotion.

Back in your late middle school days, you always (embarrassingly enough) fantasized about Atsumu finally confessing his undying love for you before you would kiss, get married, and live happily ever after. That was before you realized that his love would come from a very different place than yours for him.

By now, he's said those three magical words to you hundreds of times, ranging in times from when you share your food with him to whenever you pick him up from bars piss-drunk. Yet, they've never lost their meaning to you, even though you know they don't mean what you want them to.

You don't think he's lying, of course.

If you could gather anything from the way he looked at you, a molten fire of strong emotion burning in his eyes, it would be that he truly does love you.

But you're selfish, something that you've come to terms with lately, and that love he shows you is not what you want.

"Love you too, 'Tsumu."

And you're selfish enough to keep loving him the way you do even though you know it's worthless for the both of you.

He looks like he wants to say something more for a moment, but he doesn't.

You part ways with Atsumu that night at peace, but there's still an unsettled feeling in your stomach as you sit back down at the table across from Kuroo. You know your problems with Atsumu are still not yet solved.

Mika is slightly disappointed when she hears that you and Kuroo are not planning on having another date any time soon (you had decided to not tell her about your encounter with Atsumu because she had been so happy that you were getting along with Kuroo) but she drops it quickly.

"It's okay," she had told you with a reassuring smile. "I'll find you another date."

"No," you had answered quickly, not even thinking about it before blurting the word out. "I..." You think about Atsumu and the way he loves you. You try to convince yourself it's enough. "...I'm really not ready, after all."

Mika nods in understanding and pats your shoulder encouragingly, not saying a word, which you really appreciated.

Even if he's not mine, even if I'm not his, it's okay. You lean back against the couch you're sharing with Mika, closing your eyes. You hadn't realized how truly exhausted you are. Things take time. Stop rushing yourself to move on when that'll just make things worse. You'll forget about all of this someday.

You still can't help but wonder though, how long it'll be until then.

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933 notes · View notes

jagerist · 2 years

Text

aot characters as college students

college student aot

pairing: none

warning(s): shitpost.

a/n: just for funsies. def shitpost.

characters: eren, armin, mikasa, jean, connie, sasha, hange, levi, zeke

eren

- got a full ride scholarship

-does not try hard enough

-says that if he loses his scholarship he will just take student loans and try again

-parties 25/8

-throws the parties (mainly bc he doesn't trust himself to find his way home after)

-will show up to class still drunk (but with sunglasses so 'noone knows')

-flirts with professors (does not help his grades any) ((he knows he just likes the conversation))

-will boot for underage friends. no questions. ("gabi you want a 24? that'll be $50." "why $50?" "25 for the 24 and 25 for me putting my ass on the line"

-no extracurriculars.

armin

-full scholarship.

-studious as fuck

-will go to parties with eren tho (will not admit it but feels like he has to make sure eren doesn't do something stupid)

-will tell eren its a bad idea to boot (will take a cut tho)

-knows his limits for alcohol. will NOT drink on a school night.

-lowkey flirts with professors and does get better grades for it. (it is what he deserves. the master manipulation is not his fault)

-is in extracurriculars, but mostly bc they look great on resumes.

-is student body president.

mikasa

-this girl parties.

-like, a lot

-rivals eren.

-manages to go to class and get good grades regardless.

-never has hangovers.

-the only one ever coherent enough to call a cab home.

-smokes weed, but does not make it her personality.

-somehow found herself in a sorority. she hates it, but they love her.

-has a major following on her finsta about the school where she shitposts

jean

-douchebag (but like a loveable one)

-if you are his friend he is a great person

-otherwise, dick.

-thinks he drinks as much as eren, is infact a lightweight.

-skips class all the time but somehow doesn't fail. (its bc connie will give him his notes)

-flirts with professors and had to have a meeting with the dean abt harassment. ("just bc I called her a milf?" "yes, jean. you cannot call the staff milfs." "damn.")

-smoked weed once, swore he saw jesus. (it was just zeke, b ut everyone plays along, including zeke.)

-posts thirstraps. the only comments are from connie ("yaaaaaas go best friend.")

-armin spams vomit emojis. so does sasha.

-his insta is followed by everyone, but just bc they want to laugh.

connie

-IS THE WEIRD SMOKER

-weed socks, bob marley sweaters, drug rugs.

-had shrooms once, thought. jean was a girl. was a weird night.

-wakes and bakes before class every day.

-good grades, he tries.

-works at Mcdonalds for extra cash, but has to borrow everyone's weed bc he's too broke.

-noone knows where his money goes (they're too scared to ask.)

-everyone gives him their weed bc its connie. he's good for it.

-he isn't good for it, but that's okay.

-only had one girlfriend, they broke up because his apartment had roaches. he called them his pets. he was trying to teach them a musical routine, she didn't like it.

-juice world shrine in his room.

-led lights galore.

sasha

-okay grades, has to put in effort.

-honestly kinda only in school for funsies

-the most fun at a party.

-will convince everyone to play games.

-beerpong champion.

-will bring out the karaoke machine. (in connies trunk just incase they need a spontaneous karaoke night. they have to have two mics bc she hogs one.)

-was dragged into mikasas sorority, stayed bc they have weekly meetings with provided food.

-is a country girl, will wear cowgirl boots in class.

-living her hannah montana fantasy.

hange

-incredibly studious.

-asks so many questions

-never satisfies with the answers

-took over a lecture once when they thought the prof wasn't doing a good enough job explaining the topic.

-brings poppers to parties

-blackout every time.

-never late for class though.

-like mikasa, never had a hangover. (thinks they're a myth)

-takes the mass amt of courses in a semester. tried to fight that they could do more.

-threatened dean once.

levi

-4.0 gpa.

-does not try.

-naturally smart as fuck

-will get a job in whatever field he wants.

-got high with connie once. (saw a roach and swore to never go back)

-dd. (not that he wants to, just everyone starts drinking as soon as they get there. fuck slow down.)

-makes sure everyone is safe, but will document everything they do and hold it over their heads.

-got pissed at eren and locked him outside in winter. forgot about him.

-thought he killed him and had to defrost him in the car for two hours before he dropped him off at home.

-gaslit eren into thinking it didn't happen.

-will take everyone thought he dt before he drops them off. will never use his card though bc the drunk fucks don't pay back.

zeke

-was really smart in college, but aint in uni anymore but still goes to the parties.

-dad friend

-will provide snacks

-dont ask abt his life

-he will cry abt it and ruin the mood.

-one time him and eren started talking abt their dad and shit got really heated. they ghosted each other for a month.

-has bitches, one for everyday of the week if he wanted.

-flirts with professors but will actually fuck them (since he's not a student anymore of course)

-rumour that he fucked the dean. (will not confirm or deny)

#snk hcs #aot hcs #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

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whump-town · 4 years

Text

Take Me to Church

Here it is: my religious!Hotch fic turned Bisexual!Hotch fic. I hope you enjoy my hard work, tears, and disaster bi-thoughts

Warning: language, sex, homosexuality **there’s no real need for a warning for that but I’d just like to market this to my fellow gays**, religious trauma, Catholic guilt, child abuse, smoking, mention of AIDS in passing but no one has it, character death(s) **not anyone major**, Aaron Hotchner’s mega big boy grande sized guilt complex, ooc bc Aaron Hotchner has the proper emotions, and just general all around intense feelings

The only Heaven I'll be sent to, Is when I'm alone with you, I was born sick, but I love it, Command me to be well

Word count: 5,794

Praying never made much sense to Aaron Hotchner.

As a child, he’d prayed with crimson teeth and a bleeding tongue for his mother to be spared in his father’s rampant beatings. The priest always said that prayer shouldn’t be selfish. As he sat on his bruised knees and whispered between sobs, he hadn’t been thinking about himself. He’d been thinking about the little brother in his mother’s womb. About the pregnancy that wouldn’t survive if his father didn’t stop hitting on her. About his poor mother who looked sicker each day.

He must have done something wrong because when God had answered his prayers...

“Come on now son. Don’t be difficult,” the priest’s heavy hands pull him away from his mother’s grave. His suit hadn’t fit well that morning but logged with the rain pouring overhead, it now hangs from his bones. They make their way back home. Back to his miserable son of a bitch father.

That night, the priest had tucked him into bed and Aaron rolls over in his bed to put his back to the man. As the old man turned to cut the lights, Aaron finally speaks for the first time all day. He’d found his voice deep within his chest and laced it with his father’s unhinged anger. “I killed her,” he whispers, hot tears running down his cheeks.

The priest shakes his head. “No.” And, the old man could never know this, but what he said next would stay with Aaron for the rest of his life. “It was her time, son.”

God had killed her.

That day was the first time Aaron had ever seen his father cry. He’d stood in the hallway and watched his father sob on his knees, cursing God and swearing up a storm. At seven-years-old, he wondered if God had a sense of humor. He must, after all, to leave Aaron all alone.

Ten-years later he stood in the same spot his father had kneeled in. He’d looked up at the ceiling and prayed again. He’d begged for his father’s life to be spared. “Just this once, okay, just this once---” but his father had never been a good man. A shitty excuse for a dad but Sean thinks he’s a good man. That’s what mattered: Sean. That’s the only thing that had ever mattered. “For Sean, please? He’s never done anything wrong.”

His father died two days later. A heart attack. The doctor’s called it mercy. For who? The man who beat him senseless for fifteen years before he just sold Aaron off to a boarding school. Calling Aaron’s inability to make friends and emotional outbursts the product of the devil and not his senseless beating. The same man who called Aaron writing with his left hand the simplest proof that his mother had been a whore. She had to have cheated to have created a bastard like Aaron.

Mercy? Is that really what he’d deserved?

He has bible scriptures carved into his back. Thin white lines left by his father’s heavy hand and the black belt he wore to court each Tuesday. The only mercy he’s ever known is the black surrounder right before he falls asleep. That twisted hope that maybe his dad hit him too hard. That he won’t wake up this time.

It felt like communion-- Eucharist, standing to receive his bread and wine.

The body of Christ.

“Daddy please-” he makes no sound as the belt comes down over his shoulder. Any noise is a symbol of greater guilt, a better reason to keep hitting. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t move.

Amen.

Remember, God is always watching. No bullshitting, he knows.

Aaron cums with a cry. A sob really.

Sam lifts his head from where he’s buried it in Aaron’s neck, leaving the hickey he’d been sucking to die on its own. He sits up, his arousal forgotten as his heart pounds in his chest with fear. “Are you alright,” he asks, pulling them apart with a quick jerk. His hands are traveling down but he stops when Aaron’s hand grabs his wrist. “Baby, if I hurt you---”

Aaron shakes his head but the tears streaming down his face says otherwise. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. He buries his head in his hands, shoulders shaking as he can’t stop the tears. Sam moves out of the way of his legs, giving Aaron the space necessary to curl into himself.

Sam still has no idea what’s wrong. It had been fine. Things were fine.

It occurs to him a moment too late.

“Fuck,” he curses, seething. Not at Aaron or the mood now officially lost--- but for the boy that Aaron never got to be. To the God that Aaron believes so feverishly and unwavering in. “It’s alright,” he soothes, moving along the bed to where Aaron is. He pulls his boyfriend into his lap, holding Aaron to his chest. “Nothing is going to happen, Aaron. It’s going to be okay.”

Sam has never been religious. It wasn’t something his parents had considered important. Standing at over 6’5 and two hundred pounds of just muscle, no one even suspects he’s anything but straight. People who do know… no one’s going to say anything to a guy like him. The same thing goes for Aaron. He may be a little on the scrawny side but he’s 6’2 and no one blinks an eye at the two of them spending so much time together.

It’s not people they have to worry about.

They can be cruel and unaccepting but AIDS is still rampant through-out not only the college’s campus but through-out the gay community.

But Aaron’s a little too preoccupied with God.

Sam’s not even sure if there’s such a thing.

“Aaron!” Picking him up by his shoulders, he pulls Aaron upright. They’ve passed sobbing and moved to a panic attack. “Alright,” Sam fails to soothe. He pulls Aaron off the bed, holding him close when his legs shake beneath him. “Easy,” he mumbles, his heartbreaking--- Aaron can’t walk. It takes a great bit of work on Sam’s part but with a grunt, he lifts Aaron off his feet.

Stumbling in the direction of the bathroom, he carries Aaron. “It’s gonna be alright,” Sam promises. This isn’t the first time this has happened. Sam would like to think he’s a good boyfriend (he is). He did as much research as he could. So that he would know how to help Aaron the next time one of these events started happening.

Into the freezing shower they go.

Clutched, naked body to naked body, they rock until Aaron’s broken sobs die down. Until Sam can feel Aaron’s breathing steady out, hot exhales washing over his goosebump riddled flesh.

Against the bare skin of Sam’s shoulder, Aaron whispers Hail Mary to himself. His long fingers tapping against his thumb like counting rosary beads, “---of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now---” It’s the only coping mechanism he’s ever learned.

Sam presses a kiss to his temple. Aaron hates that he turns his head for more. Turns his head until Sam’s hands are tangled in his hair and holding him tightly. Sam kisses him softly, full of love. He doesn’t deserve that.

“Sodomy is a sin,” he whispers, against Sam’s lips.

Sam smiles, shaking his head. He doesn’t care. “Did you like it,” Sam asks, voice husky. He wraps himself back around Aaron, shaking from the cold of the water still pouring down over them. Fingers moving up Aaron’s back, he tangles them in his hair.

Aaron… knows the answer. He also knows that sin is often appealing. Sam is the sin that Aaron can never walk away from. What he always comes back for. “Yes,” he answers, honestly. He had liked it. He’d liked it a lot. Sex with Sam is gentle and overwhelming and--- sin. It’s still sin.

“That’s all that matters,” Sam presses kisses back to Aaron’s neck. Smiling against his skin when Aaron arches into the touch.

Aaron can never make Sam understand that this principle isn’t that simple. It’s a black and white morality. Heaven or hell.

But, maybe…

Sam reaches around behind him and cuts the water off, Aaron shivers against his chest leaning closer to the touches that are trailing down his body. Sam pulls him closer so that Aaron’s in his lap. With a grunt, Aaron allows Sam to push into him and mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure he falls into Sam’s shoulder.

“Jesus,” Sam curses, pulling Aaron closer. “You---” he moans, tilting his head back. This time, Aaron’s sets the pace. Slow and steady. It hurts but it’s an ache he’s familiar with. The lube from earlier mostly washed away but he’s prepped and anything is better than thinking about Hell.

His doomed eternity.

“You’re so good, baby boy.” Sam holds him close, his fingers digging into Aaron’s hips. “Fu-Fuck---”

Why is it that the only thing that has ever made sense to him a sin?

Sam dies in the middle of first semester their Junior year. Though it’s never stated, it’s Aaron’s fault. Sam wouldn’t have been on the road that if Aaron just prayed harder or been a better man. Panic attacks are a product of a shaky relationship with God and Aaron wouldn’t have had one, he wouldn’t have called Sam freaking out, if he’d just… believed harder.

Aaron knows it’s his fault. He never gets over that guilt.

He marries Haley at the end of Senior year and they invite Sam’s parents to the wedding. No one knows the true extent of Aaron and Sam’s relationship but Haley knows something was going on between the two. They’d been high school sweethearts, separated by his years spent away at college. Separated by Aaron’s love for a man.

He comes home different but she loves him. She also knows that her mother approves of Aaron’s God-fearing ways. Religion is good in a man like him, her mother had warned, you can see the darkness in him. She bites her tongue and moves on.

Until she sees the darkness too.

The divorce breaks him.

He starts having panic attacks again, worse than the ones in college. No one notices. He knows they just write him off as a dick. He’s just a robot to them. Emotionless and he can work with that. So, he is a robot. Just marching through life and flying by the seat of his pants, hoping that it all goes well.

But he knows… each night as the panic bubbles in his chest and has him falling to his knees that hell is the only place he’s going. It’s going to take more than prayers to save a sinner like him.

“Hotch?” He jumps at the sudden intrusion. Looking to his left, none other than Emily Prentiss is standing on the balcony. She’s grinning from ear to ear and shaking her head. “What are you doing up so late?”

The cigarette trapped between his lips should answer that well enough.

The thing is, he’s not as slick as he thinks he is. She’s noticed him pulling away. Dave has noticed--- hell, everyone has noticed something is wrong. So, when Emily Prentiss had been tossing and turning in her own bed and smelled the wafting, faint scent of cigarette smoke she’d gotten curious. She certainly hadn’t expected to find him.

“Mind some company?”

And with those three simple words she’d pulled him from the edge.

That night they burned through four cigarettes. Sin, that night, had been just as he remembered it once being. For a moment, as he stood--- her leaning against him and him leaning against her--- he had managed a smile. With a cigarette between his teeth, he’d taken his first real breath in years.

Foyet attacks him in his apartment and as he lies bleeding he hopes this is it. That the world will flicker out, he’s just a candle drowning it’s wax. Will there be a light or…

He wakes up in the hospital and he’s never been this cold in his life.

It’s Emily’s voice that pulls him from the white walls and the pain. She’s saying something about cigarettes and the seasons changing. He smiles, drugged and submissive, when she proposes the team go to Dave’s and get drunk. He doesn't’ even think about God, about the sin and the eternity in hell waiting for him. He just thinks about his team and the only family he’s ever really been a part of.

He wakes up thrashing--- a broken sob on his lips. There’s so much pain and he can’t think about anything other than death. Death and Hell and sin and the pain, oh fuck the pain.

Thin fingers wrap around his, squeezing and he looks up and finds JJ softly soothing him. Her fingers are ghosting along his forearms, rubbing circles into his pale skin. “Just breathe,” she instructs and he’s reminded of Sam and that freezing shower and the---

“Aaron!” she calls and the fortitude, the conviction in her eyes sobers him. “You have to stop,” she tells him, her touch turning hard and that he can focus on. That pulls him back down. “Breathe,” and slowly he relaxes again. She’s softened and he watches the tears pool in her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that,” she chides, softly.

He manages to squeeze her hand.

“We almost lost you,” she whispers and that hadn’t occurred to him. His death happens to other people. It’ll just be… nothing. He must be very high or maybe broken because he thinks of nothing. The nothingness that happens after death and not raging, flaming pits of hell.

JJ presses a kiss to his temple and he closes his eyes. It’s a tender love he… he’s forgotten. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she says, her thumb rubbing against his hand. “I don’t like job hunting.”

He doesn’t know how to tell her that the team wouldn’t fall apart if Foyet had chosen to kill him.

She doesn’t know how to tell him that isn’t true.

Foyet does kill Haley and for a long time, it’s like he’s killed Hotch too.

“Hotch!”

The last he’d seen of Emily, she was displeased with his decision to decline his invitation to girl’s night. First, of all, he’s not that dumb. He knew damn well that they wanted him to tag along because Emily had told them about his date with the cute blonde at the coffee shop had gone tits up. Of course, she’d chosen to leave out that his date had failed because she’d entered the shop and wolf-whistled at the sight of him.

But, she has chosen to blame the entire thing on him because he should have told her.

Ah, silly him.

Now, he’s waiting on his front porch for Will to drop her off at his place. Does she have an apartment of her own? Yes. But she’s a clingy drunk and it’s custom for her to come to sleep in his bed. Besides, who else is going to hold her hair up while she pukes?

He smiles when he sees her. God… leave it to him to pick Emily Prentiss, of all people, to be his best friend. Well, he’s not really sure he chose or picked her so much as ended up within her mercy. “Emily,” he greets softly, smiling when she walks right up to him and headbutts his chest. She just falls straight into him.

He shuffles to accommodate her weight but they do this little dance frequently. With one hand on the back of her head, he raises the other to wave to Will that he’s free to go. The detective nods and pulls the car into reverse, JJ and Garcia in the back shouting their own goodbyes.

“Alright,” Hotch rubs her shoulders, shivering from the night’s chill. “Pigging back ride?”

She nods and it’s only with practiced ease that they manage this so easily.

As he stands, he gives her a second to adjust herself before he starts walking back towards his porch. This is the exact reason he does squats at the gym, so his thighs don’t shake as he carries her up the stairs.

“Oh,” Emily whines into his back, where her face is buried. “I hope I didn’t wake Jack.”

He’s overly careful to make sure he doesn’t hit her legs as he steps into the door. Stopping to shut the door behind them he tells her, “he’s not here.” He scowls with concentration as he moves down the hall. “He’s spending the weekend with his cousins.” He’d told her this earlier, too many times. It is one of the smaller reasons she’d invited him to girls night: so he wouldn’t have to be alone in his house.

They share many secrets. He’d been the first person on the team to know she’s gay. He still remains one of the few who know. JJ and Garcia know-- tequila always makes her lose her grip. He also knows that she wants to have a family and about her giant crush on JJ.

Just like she knows that sitting in his empty house stresses him out. He turns into the empty walls and all he can think about is being completely alone while Foyet was trying to hunt down his son and Haley. She knows this and… she’d left him here all by himself.

“Emily,” he whispers, feeling her hot tears soak into the back of his shirt. He’s not mad or even frustrated, he’s just sad. He can’t do anything about it just yet. So, he takes her back to his room. He helps her out of her blouse, replacing it with his George-town hoodie so she can curl her legs into.

Only once she’s situated, his back turned so she can hiccup and dry her tears while she slips into a pair of her own shorts he kneels down in front of her. “Emily.” He shakes his head, she’s still inconsolable, so he pulls her to his chest. “Emily, I’m a grown man.” He rubs her back, “I can handle being in my own home.”

She only cries harder and it hurts him because whatever it is that’s really bothering her he can’t fix.

“Would you love me more if I wasn’t a lesbian,” she asks, sobbing into his shoulder.

Well… he blanks. What is he even supposed to say to that? Now she’s really crying and he’s-- he can’t think of a single thing to say. “Emily…” he shakes his head. “I--I don’t care that you’re a lesbian.” And why would he? How many times have they had the ‘it would be like kissing my brother/sister’ conversation? Or the ‘even if I were straight…’? He doesn’t feel sexually attracted to her.

He just… he loves her because she’s his family.

“You don’t,” she asks, sniffling. She pushes his shoulders away from her so that she can see his eyes. So she can see if he’s lying. “You don’t hate me?” Because she’s certain that he does sometimes. Like he can stand the thought of her.

He shakes his head. “It would be very hypocritical of me to hate you for being gay,” he says, without really thinking about what that means. At what he’s admitting.

Though she doesn’t say anything, the admission sobers her. With tender care he tucks her into bed. Smiling softly when she pulls him down beside her.

They fall asleep on their sides, facing one another. He falls asleep first. Too exhausted to wait her out. Between them, she gently reaches over and brushes her thumb over his cheek bone. Trialing it along the facial hair he’s let grow over the course of their long weekend off.

He breaks her heart.

“So, are we just not going to talk about it?”

They’re watching a basketball game from earlier in the week because it’s Tuesday and she gets to pick what they watch on Tuesdays. Granted, it’s sports and he hates sports which means that he gets to pick whether or not they sit close. She knows something is wrong because he puts the entire couch between them. They’re not even sharing a blanket and he always lets her have some of his blankets.

She gets cold easily.

“Talk about what, Emily?” The way he says her name… it’s not right. He always says Emily kindly, loving. He says her name and it makes her proud to be Emily but this time it’s a reprimand and she sees it for exactly what it is—- an attempt to push her away. To make her feel afraid to push on.

But she’s been gay for so long, openly gay. It takes more than a little bit of attitude to scare her off. “You,” she says, softly. “You’re gay, Aaron, and—-“

He flinches at the word gay. Recoiling. “Emily,” his tone shifts to pleading.

“You—-“ she shifts too. She turns her body to face her, no longer relaxed. “Aaron, there’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

Sodomy, Aaron thinks. First and for most, there’s sodomy and it’s a sin to love a man. A sin to love men in a way he could never love Haley. Which Emily would understand if he told her about his sex life with Haley. Rather, his nonexistent sex life with Haley. He loved Haley so much but he could never love her the right way. The way God had intended.

By the time he manages to raise his eyes to hers, there are tears streaming down his face. He’s so helplessly broken and he can’t even hide it.

“Oh, Aaron.” Emily pulls him against her chest, rubbing up and down his back as he sobs. “I…” she doesn’t know what to say. She knows it’s the Catholisim here at play but her youth was so very different from his. Matthew had saved her from the fate Aaron had succumbed to. Matthew had shown her the churches many faults and…

Aaron had no one.

No one but the Bible and a God who never answered back.

“There’s nothing wrong with being gay,” she whispers, rocking their bodies gently. “There’s nothing wrong with you Aaron.”

He sobs even harder. He wishes he could believe that. He does. He wishes he could but…

They agree to never talk about it. Meaning, Emily begrudgingly lets it go.

The universe isn’t ready for Hotch to shove it under the rug though.

There’s this barista at the coffee shop downtown--- more than a barista, he’s the owner, actually. He’s a giant. He almost makes Hotch feel small in comparison. In college, he’d been a football player but he’d messed his knee up pretty bad Junior year. He became dependent on the painkillers he’d received after surgery. He’d dropped out of college a few months later.

Hotch learns all of this only after two coffees.

One that he has Monday with the man’s phone-number and name scribbled onto the side of his cup. His cheeks had turned a furious shade of pink when Morgan had asked who Charlie is and if she was pretty. For some reason, despite coaching himself over and over in the mirror that he’d never go back--- Hotch goes back to the coffee shop Thursday.

This time as Hotch is handing the other man a five dollar bill he adds his own phone-number and name attached with a simple sticky-note.

He’s not even out the door yet when his phone vibrates.

“I thought I’d scared you off, mysterious FBI man.”

It makes him stop in his tracks. A smile tugs at his lips and there isn’t a single thought in his head about church or God or his father just this impossibly good feeling in his chest. It’s been so long since he’s done the flirting thing but he replies: “As good as mysterious FBI man sounds, I typically go by Aaron. Besides, it takes a little bit more than a phone-number to scare me off”

The texts keep coming and Hotch doesn’t mind.

Charlie tells him about college and Hotch tells him about the team. It’s out of character for him to be so open but it’s just coffee and flirting and a really hot barista.

The feeling is very mutual.

“Kiss me, g-man.”

Hotch shakes his head, chuckling when Charlie throws his hips over Hotch’s waist. “You’d better---” whatever threat he’s making half-heartedly turns into a groan when Charlie starts planting open mouth kisses along his collar. Sucking a hickey under his ear where it will be painfully obvious to the team.

When Hotch lets out a grunt, his hand grabbing at Charlie’s shirt and the other going to his hair Charlie laughs. He buries his face in Hotch’s neck, his hand traveling down to the front of his pants. “Is that your gun?” he pulls back with a smirk.

Lightly, he pushes Aaron back on the bed. Charlie’s nimble fingers wrap around his jeans, pulling the tight fabric off of his ass.

“I don’t remember asking for this,” Hotch grunts, fist clenched tightly in the bedsheets. It’s the only way he can assure that he won’t go bucking into Charlie’s palm the minute he starts touching again. He’s not going to cave like that.

To his credit, Charlie stops. He plants his hands on both sides of Hotch’s hips, his mouth sending a dangerous gust of warm air over Hotch’s straining cock. He lifts an eyebrow, “say the word, Aaron.” Say the word and it stops. They don’t dance along fancy lines like that. Charlie wouldn’t do that.

Sitting up, Aaron wraps his legs around Charlie’s hips. He runs his fingers up through Charlie’s hair, kissing him. With a smile he pulls away and whispers, “fuck me, Charlie.”

And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do just that.

Sodomy is way better than Aaron remembers.

They’re about three months into this when Charlie learns that Hotch hasn’t told a soul about him. At least, not really. Not past the point of passing in conversation. Hell, he hasn’t even told them that Charlie isn’t some bombshell blonde woman but a 6’4 black man who owns the coffee shop.

“Fine,” Hotch caves despite the anxiety leaving him so unnerved he’s shaking. “Do you want to come with me to Dave’s this weekend?” He’s got an edge to his tone. He’s hoping Charlie takes the bait and rolls his eyes. He almost hopes for a fight.

Charlie nods his head, “I would like to, actually.”

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Okay.”

It’s not okay. It’s far from it.

He sits on edge for the rest of the week. Begging for a case. None come.

If Charlie has anything to say about Hotch letting go of his hand when they step out of the car, he doesn’t say anything. He does offer him a supportive smile, reaching between them to squeeze Aaron’s bicep.

“Dave,” Hotch breathes the other man’s voice and Charlie can hear the panic seeping into his deep tone. But then he just blanks.

Charlie stretches his hand out, “I’m Charlie.”

Dave gets over his momentary shock very quickly. “Charlie,” Dave shakes his head with a smile. He avoids the hand being offered and pulls the younger man in for a hug. “I have heard so much about you! I was just a little shocked. I was expecting--”

Charlie laughs, “a woman.”

Dave claps him on the back. “Well, yes, I was.” He smiles at Hotch next, pulling him in for a hug too. Dave can feel just how unnerved Hotch is but he doesn’t comment. He just squeezes him a little tighter. “More so,” Dave says, “I was expecting a blonde. He really likes blondes.”

Charlie glances back at Aaron, keeping his smile in place even when Aaron can’t look up from his intense battle with the floor.

“Well, come on in! I’ve got enough bourbon and food in here to feed a small army!”

Charlie steps inside first, Aaron hot on his heels.

Charlie turns around, to look back at Aaron. Calling the other man’s name for attention. “Aaron,” he calls softly, grabbing his hand. “Show me to the bathroom.”

Hotch nods his head, eyes vacant as he moves on through the room. Ghosting. “It’s, ugh,” Hotch points lamely to the door.

Charlie pulls him into the small room. Aaron making a small grunt of protest. “Look at me,” says, stern but not overbearing. “Aaron, please.”

It takes a moment but Aaron pulls his eyes off the floor. He grimaces when a tear falls down his cheek, ashamed of this display of emotion. This vulnerability.

With a sad smile, Charlie wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. “They didn’t know did they?”

Leaning forward, Hotch buried his face in Charlie’s blue t-shirt. It’s old and soft and it does nothing to slow his tears. He shakes his head. “They didn’t.”

Fuck. Charlie wraps his arms around Hotch, pulling him close. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

What other options are there? If Charlie hadn’t forced his hand Hotch would have happily died in the blissful lie he’d created. He could have died alone. No need to come out. Hell, if he’d just found another blonde woman he could have married her and died “straight”.

Anything is better than this in-between.

“Aaron,” Charlie breathes his name sadly. He doesn’t know what to say. His family had disowned him. So, he can’t just reassure Aaron it’ll be okay but Dave took it so well. “Have you even given them a chance?”

Well… Dave did take it very well and Emily already knows.

“No,” he answers honestly.

Charlie presses a kiss to his temple, asking, “maybe you should give them the benefit of the doubt?”

A knock at the door makes them both jump.

“Hotch,” Reid whines from the other side. “I really have to go.”

Hotch smiles and that makes Charlie smile. “Good?” he asks.

Hotch nods, “good.”

The pair step out of the bathroom.

Reid blushes and slides past.

“You don’t think he thinks we were…”

Hotch nods, “more than likely.”

Heading back down the hall, Charlie leans into Hotch’s side. “Which one was that?”

“Reid.”

Charlie hums his understanding. Cuter than he’d imagined. Aaron had said tall and thin but it really did the genius no justice. He’s an attractive young man. “You didn’t tell me he was cute.”

Wrapping his arm around Charlie’s waist he pulls the other man closer. His heart is beating hard in his chest but he kisses the other man, closing his eyes and enjoying this moment. Separating just enough to say, “I think he said he plays for your team. If you’re interested.”

“My team,” Charlie repeats. He runs a finger along Aaron’s brow, sweeping his hair back. “My team is you,” Charlie rolls his eyes. “Doofus.”

Hotch’s jaw drops. “Doofus?”

Charlie smiles, “my doofus.”

Emily stops at the mouth of the hall, having heard the dee rumbling sound of voices “That’s fucking adorable.”

Hotch groans, pushing his face into Charlie’s chest.

“Don’t groan at me,” she says. “You’re the bastard that came out to me. Ghosted me. Then went and got a boyfriend.”

Hotch grimaces, “Emily…”

She waves him, turning her attention to Charlie. “You,” she sticks her hand out and they share a handshake. “You got yourself a good one. He can be an ass though.”

Charlie chuckles at that, “he really can be. Also, insufferable.”

Emily opens her mouth in happy shock. “Right? What about him being a know-it-all?”

Charlie nods, “don’t forget being a tight ass.”

Hotch feels a comment about their sex lives attempting to roll of his tongue. Something along the lines of Charlie saying he’d liked his ass last night— instead he just grunts. “Enough about me,” he grumbles.

Emily smiles at both of them. She really is happy. Hotch deserves to be happy. With a smirk she motions for them to follow her. “Come on, drinks?”

Somehow, despite everything Hotch had convinced himself, everything is fine.

Charlie ends up wondering off with Morgan. The two deep into a conversation about a beam Morgan’s building around. Hotch had watched Charlie gag down Garcia’s awful shots and listen to Reid talk about thermodynamics.

And when Hotch’s anxiety started getting bad again, Charlie was right there. Hotch hadn’t said anything, he didn’t even close himself off. Emily had just excused herself to go yell about something with JJ, leaving him leaning against the bar in the kitchen. But Charlie had come up and squeezed his hand. Winking for good measure. Hotch’s anxiety, like his heart, melted into a puddle around his feet.

“Goodbye,” Emily wishes them a farewell. She kisses both their cheeks and holds on to Hotch a moment longer than she normally would. “So, does this mean we’re back on for movie nights?”

Hotch nods. He’s missed their movie nights. He’s missed hanging out with her.

In the end, it’s the two of them and Dave.

Hotch’s anxiety rears it’s ugly head. Another painful reminder of the childhood he’ll never escape. Of God and sin and hell. The Catholic Church is solid force in Dave’s life and he’s askin Dave to choose. And Aaron knows he’s not going to be chosen.

“You boys good to drive home?” Dave hands Charlie a Tupperware container of leftovers.

Charlie nods, “we’re okay.”

Well, Charlie is. Hotch is little tipsy and one wrong word away from throwing up on the porch.

“Be safe,” Dave says, pulling Charlie in for a hug first. He pats his back, lowering his head to whisper. “Take care of my boy, you here?”

It makes Charlie smile. They’d briefly discussed Aaron’s real father but Charlie can see exactly what Aaron had meant when he said Dave had been the man that raised him. He’s gentle and firm and Charlie is glad Aaron was able to find a father. “Of course,” Charlie responds. “Someone has to.”

That makes Dave chuckle. Damn right.

“Come here, son.” Aaron’s always been bigger than Dave, not that he minds. He pulls him down into his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Lowering his voice he whispers, “I’m glad you brought Charlie. He’s a good man. I’m proud of you.”

Hotch feels the dam break. He wraps his arms tighter around Dave, all of his youth and sexuality and feelings finally making sense. He doesn’t have to chose. He can be himself and be happy, it’s allowed.

Aaron Hotchner didn’t kill his mother or his mother. He’s always done his best and that’s all he can do.

“You’re a good man,” Dave whispers, rubbing his back.

And… Aaron might just be starting to believe him.

#criminal minds #tw child abuse #out of character #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #sean hotchner #emily prentiss #david rossi #haley hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #tw cigarettes #lesbian emily prenitss #george foyet

205 notes · View notes

wtf-yoongi · 4 years

Text

Flawless.

pairing | taehyung x reader

summary | you’ve lost count of how many notes you’ve left in between tae’s textbooks, from the silliest to the most profound, loving ones. and yet, even after all these months, taehyung doesn’t seem to have noticed any of them

genre/warnings | university fluff bc y’all whipped by university student!tae am i right

words | 3,070

note | this concept was inspired by a plot line in romance is a bonus book (which you can and should stream on netflix). also: for some reason i didn’t know but found out while writing this that i would do anything for kim taehyung and that’s just a fact

You don’t know how that even started.

It sounds like the kind of thing people who lose bets would be forced to do. If you lose, you’ll have to write a silly letter confessing your love to a friend. It would be funny, a story worthy of being shared with friends in between bottles of beer and other tales from college years.

But it really isn’t like that. Definitely not as funny or entertaining – just you being bored one day and then too into it to stop it.

You don’t know what had gotten into you the first time you did it. You arrived a little early at the apartment Taehyung shared with Jimin. Tae was still taking a shower. Jimin let you in and apologized for having to leave you alone because he was working on a paper due only a couple of days later. You sat down in the small living room area. Looked around for a while. Picked a thinning stack of sticky notes from your backpack. Wrote something silly on one of them. Added a little #1 to it. Entered Taehyung’s room. Picked a book out of his shelves. Opened it on a random page. Sticked the yellow note there. Closed the book. Left it alone. That was it.

After that, it was like an addiction. Maybe it was the thrill of getting caught someday – eventually, as you thought – and having a good laugh with your friends about it. You could actually picture it: Jimin and you cracking up in the kitchen after Taehyung shows up with a handful of notes you’ve written. You tell them you’ve been doing it for weeks and leaving them everywhere. Jimin jokes about Tae not even opening a textbook to pretend he’s studying. Tae eventually joins, giggling and shaking his head.

“Hey, what’s up?”

You blink quickly to focus your mind again, looking up to see Taehyung free his shoulder from the weight of his bag and place a bottle of water on the table you are now sharing. He looks relaxed despite the craziness of the end of the semester, smiling and waving at a known face two tables away before sitting down.

“You good?” He asks again and bumps his elbow against yours to coax an answer out of you. “You look too serious.”

“I was…” You start and look down at the scattered pieces of paper in front of you, trying to make any sense of them. You pile it all to at least appear a bit more put together – the papers and yourself. “I was in the library, but the tension was too much to handle, so I moved in here.”

“It’s noisy.”

Well, yes, it’s a common area filled with students doing anything but studying. You wish to feel at ease like these people. Are they done with the semester or what?

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit too noisy to study?”

“Yeah, but there’s a whole lot of people talking and I can’t tell them apart, so it doesn’t bother me,” you answer, maybe a little too quickly after a few beats of silence. You decide to add something else, something to not end it on a bad note. “It’s oddly calming.”

“Well, if you think so.” Taehyung raises his shoulders and flashes you a simple and toothless smile.

You don’t know how that even started. Liking him like the way you do.

It sounds like the kind of thing you would hear from someone else. I think I’m in love with a friend, what should I do? It would be funny, giving them advice on this sort of thing, but it only happened in movies, right?

But it really isn’t like that. It’s real. And it’s not as funny or entertaining. It kind of hurts, actually, but you can’t stop feeling those feelings and it drives you crazy sometimes.

More than often you had found yourself thinking about this before going to sleep at night – and sometimes losing sleep over it as well. It definitely wasn’t like a switch, but it sure felt like it. You gradually fell in love, but only realized it when Taehyung came running down the stairs at the Art Department to meet you.

There was nothing special about him that day – it was just the same old Tae –, but it wasn’t the art that had changed. It was the artist’s eye. You knew the second he made eye contact that something was up, but didn’t immediately jump to any conclusions, no. Love was something that came to you much later. At first, you thought maybe he had his hair done differently or the sweater he was wearing just fitted him too perfectly, the color matching everything else flawlessly.

But you had never used the word flawless to describe Kim Taehyung up until then. That’s when you realized you were the one looking at him in a different way. And that’s also when you started to wonder if that would ever happen the other way around, too.

But, of course, that never happens. He never finds out. Maybe the books you were picking up were way too random or hiding the notes inside just made it too hard for him to find them, so you decided to stick a note to a cover for once.

You could feel the adrenaline rush as you did it, almost as if you were committing a crime. What you wrote is far from incriminating, though. #19 this is a test to see if you’re truly that clueless about your own stuff. you tedious friend, you were supposed to find these. what’s the joke in me leaving them if you don’t?

After that audacious move, you were a little apprehensive for a few days. You couldn’t stop looking at your phone, waiting for it to light up with a new message. At any moment now, you thought to yourself – and it did come, the message, but it wasn’t what you were expecting. It was just a you up? I need help with an Impressionism piece and this is more your thing.

“This is your last one, right?” Taehyung asks after a few minutes. “Last test?”

You blow a strand of hair that has fallen in front of your eyes. “Yeah, this and a project due tomorrow, but I’m done with that already.”

“Oh, the one you were working on last week when I asked you to come over and you said you couldn’t?”

“Yup, exactly.”

When you disconnect your eyes from the words in front of you to look at him again, he’s calmly playing with the water bottle with a subtle smile on his lips.

“I wish you could’ve come that day.”

You had sticked a note on his only book on Impressionism just a few days before.

To be honest, you were disappointed. Over the months, you had found yourself wanting more and more for him to find the notes – and not just the ones that had jokes on them, but also the ones that ask about the weather, about how he’s feeling, apologizing for that day two years prior when you bought spicy snacks instead of the regular ones, praising his photography skills and everything else that was on your mind.

Taehyung not noticing anything gave you a more whatever attitude to it, almost as if you knew for a fact that he would never ever find them. That’s when you started to write deeper ones that sounded a little bit too much like a confession. You were talking about your fear of the future, the pressure your parents put on you, the pain of being the second child after a perfect one, how you were scared of failing in life and all the stuff you were too much of a wimp to say out loud. So many you ended up losing count and they no longer had a tiny number written in the corner.

At this point, you were running out of books. Taehyung had a good collection on his desk and shelves, piled one on top of the other without any order – but not enough for the rate you were going at. You left a note every single time you were there and able to sneak into his bedroom and caught yourself finding reasons why you had to visit just to leave another one. It was the safest way to get something out of your chest. Tae wouldn’t see it and, honestly, if he ever did, it was also ok.

“Hey!”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“What do you mean what’s up? You’re the one who called.”

Taehyung laughs.

“Actually, you never call. What is up?”

“How did the test go?”

“Did you really call just to ask how I did?”

“I wanted to know if your semester’s finally over… And if you’re free.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, right now.”

“I guess I am… I have some books to return, but that’s it.”

“Can you come over after that?”

“Sure. Do you need anything I can pick up on my way? I think I’m stopping at the convenience store for some much needed and deserved alcohol.”

He laughs again.

“You’re right, you deserve it. In that case, can you get those potato sticks I like?”

Only it wasn’t ok anymore if he saw it. Not after you wrote that one.

A whole month had passed after that day at the Art Department. You thought you had had enough time to understand what was going on – what you felt. And even after that, it was still hard to comprehend how you could let yourself fall like that.

It wasn’t like Taehyung was paying any special attention to you. He really wasn’t. He treated you just like any other friend – maybe a closer one, yes, but not that much closer. It was hard to distinguish, though. He was friendly towards everyone, always looking for ways to help.

You racked your brain. Had he ever offered to help you with something you didn’t think he would do for anyone else? Had he ever shown interest in any way? What the hell was it that made you feel this?

Maybe it was just him. Effortlessly. Just like that.

That day, instead of going with something that popped into your head right there and then, you had a plan for once. You had imagined something a little bit longer, organized the structure of it all inside your head – sentence after sentence –, but couldn’t bring yourself to write the right words even after your third try.

That was when you decided to settle for I think I’m in love with you, you idiot. You’re driving me insane. Stop that now.

“Your beloved potato,” you say to Taehyung, handing him the children’s snack as soon as he opens the door. “Can I get a thank you, you’re the best or what?”

“Thank you, you’re the best,” he repeats your words with a small smile on his lips. Inside, the butterflies want to start fluttering everywhere, but you beg them to keep quiet and still.

You smile back at him, soon entering the small living room and leaving your much lighter backpack on the floor. “Is Jimin home? I bought him some as well.”

“No, but you can leave it in the kitchen and I’ll…”

“I don’t trust you, traitor,” you interrupt, hand immediately raising to point a finger at him, eyes squeezed in suspicion as you pick the round package and start walking again. “I’ll take this to his room and hide it somewhere. Don’t you dare look for it!”

There’s a moment of silence after you move into Jimin’s slightly messy room, looking for a spot to hide the chips and soon picking up your phone from your back pocket to let him know exactly where to find them later. When you walk towards the living room again, Taehyung is seated on the sofa with his back to you, slowly moving his hand through his growing hair.

Nothing sounds out of place or any less than completely peaceful until he opens his mouth again. He waits for you – for you to be seated and comfortable and fully focused, phone forgotten inside of your back pocket.

“Why did you stop numbering them?”

You freeze.

“What?”

Your first reaction is almost immediate. Your whole body tenses, going into panic mode with the force and speed of an electric shock. Somehow, you can’t seem to disconnect your eyes from his serene ones – a complete opposite from yours.

Your brain, on the other hand, is running a million miles per hour. It wants to know and it has so many questions. When did he find out? Did he read every single note? Did he notice you had left one inside almost every book – sometimes even two or three? Where were they now?

But, most of all, had he read that one?

“Why did you stop numbering them? The notes, I mean,” Taehyung calmly asks again. He’s so composed and gentle you start to wonder what he is thinking about you now and what conclusions he has jumped to from reading all of that. “I know the exact order you left them up to a point and then I’m lost. It kind of bothers me, you were telling a good story.”

He smiles again and an invisible hand clenches your heart.

“I just…” You struggle to find the words and, when they do come, your throat feels dry and tight and like it doesn’t want to make a sound at all. You can’t face him anymore. “I lost count one day.”

“Too bad,” he admits with the same tender tone. “I was really enjoying it, you know? Your story. There are sixty-four notes in total, so I’m guessing you’ve been doing this for a long time.”

So he has read all of them.

Your palms start to sweat and your whole body grows cold all of a sudden. You let out a small cough, but your words still come out a bit too raspy. “Kind of, yeah.”

“I’m really sorry to be this blunt, but I just got to know,” Taehyung’s voice loses its cool a little and you can see his whole body reflect that, agitated, while he turns to you. His hands reach out a little, but end up halfway, resting on the sofa.

Then, his words come out like he has finally opened his brain’s tap.

“I just have to know since when you’re feeling like this. Are you still feeling like this? You wrote me a note saying you’re in love with me and I don’t know when that happened. How could you not tell me that? God, I’m so selfish. You wrote a bunch of things about feeling like you’re not enough and being scared of the future and all I can focus on is this one thing.”

You swallow, but your mouth and throat don’t become any less tight. “It’s usually a one-time thing, I don’t always feel like that. We’re all worried about the future, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” You nod. He lets out a long and staggered breath and shifts his hands impatiently. He wants to move them closer, but doesn’t know if the timing is right. “You didn’t answer my first question, though.”

You freeze again.

“It was a…” You take one deep breath, your voice as small as it has ever been, but still somewhat audible. “It was a few months ago.”

“A few months?” He repeats, voice escalating in tone, and you simply nod once again. “You should have said something. You know you should have said something, right? I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t reject you.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got scared.”

Wait. He said what?

“What did you just say?” You repeat the words screaming inside your head.

Taehyung laughs, his easy-going demeanor back again. “You should look at yourself right now, your face is priceless.”

You really have no words. If the circumstances were any sort of normal, this would be the time you would raise your hand to pinch or straight up hit Taehyung, striking wherever part of him was closest to you. But this isn’t anywhere close to normal, so you just let your jaw hang open, your brain struggling to process the information.

“I’m going to tell you a secret, I truly never told this to anyone,” Taehyung starts, smile still plastered on his silly and flawless face. “I had a crush on you a long time ago, I think it was when we first started talking. I got over that quickly, actually, because you seemed so dead focused on being the best student and showed no interest at all. I thought it was ok, you know? At least I had you as a friend, you were a nice person to have around and I wanted to keep your company.”

And I was fine about it. Really, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t your friend just because I wanted something more, I really love being your friend. And I was ok for a long time until I found a sticky note and then another and another and another. I couldn’t believe you left so many and I never noticed it, like, how stupid am I? I should get a prize for being this slow.”

And then there was that one note. The one you wrote about being in love with me. I swear, I… I didn’t know what to think and then it hit me like a thousand bricks and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was nervous around you again, I wanted to impress you so hard, I wanted to make you smile and happy. I honestly don’t even know how I’m still going at this without stopping, probably because I practiced. Yeah, I did.”

A few moments of silence pass before Taehyung is speaking again. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Your dropped jaw turns into some sort of awkward smile. “Did you really practice?”

“Really?” Tae asks with an overdramatic expression. “I just said all of that and you’re asking me if I really practiced?”

You shrug. “I thought that was cute.”

“My God,” he overreacts, throwing his whole upper body towards you on the sofa. His voice comes out muffled now, but as playful as ever. “This thing only started and somehow I already know I’m doomed.”

Read more ›› masterlist

#kim taehyung #kim taehyung fluff #taehyung fluff #taehyung au #kim taehyung au #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung x y/n #taehyung imagine #kim taehyung imagines #taehyung scenarios #bts one shot #bts imagines #bts fluff

412 notes · View notes

crazy4myself · 4 years

Text

No Harm List Pt.4

Word Count: 7.2k

Summary: You live in a city where crime runs rampant. One day, you save a young boy's life, not knowing that he is the most powerful crime lord's heir. And you have just been put on the no harm list.

Trigger warnings: DESCRIPTION OF PANIC ATTACK!! I really took my time with writing this, trying my hardest to convey these feelings without being triggering. I also tried to make it as comforting as possible, but if you are feeling a little anxious maybe save this fic for a better day. Mental health first!

Additional warnings: mentions of violence, explicit language, mentions of death,

Genre: Romance, angst, violence, gang/mafia AU,

Rating: 18+ (bc of mentions of violence there’s no sexual content)

<- Pt.3

"Hobi, I don't wanna be mad. I just wanna know the truth,” you pleaded, voice wavering. And that was the truth, you felt like you could care less if he was in a gang. It was Alcorn, you had to be in a gang to survive if you weren't rich.

Upon seeing your eyes water and your lip tremble, Hoseok instantly wished you would scream at him. He didn't want to hurt you. He didn't mean for it to go this far. For you two to get so close after his sister's death, or for him to lie to you for so long. He told himself he kept you out of it for your safety, but really it was just too easy for him to live two lives, for you to look at him like he wasn't a murderer and for him to pretend for a few hours that he wasn't.

He sighed, sitting on the couch, and you plopped down next to him and waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.

"I guess it's best to start at the very beginning, which was when I was around 16," he started.

"I lived in the same neighborhood as these two guys RM and Suga. They had actually served some time for getting busted with another gang, the Dime Lions, they're long gone now but basically, some shit went down during some kind of gang raid, and RM and Suga ended up taking the fall for it. Instead of the Dime Lions busting them out of jail, they left them there and basically disowned them afterward."

You nodded along to let him know you were following.

"Anyways RM and Suga, they had a rough start when they got out of the gang, both were bastards, street rats on the Westside they never had anyone to look out for them. So they did the only thing they could do at the time to survive, which was breaking it to cars and shit and cleaning them out. I don't just mean personal belongings of these guys took engine parts, piping, tiers they took it all, and sold it to any scrap shops they could find. At the time, I was working at my uncle's scrapyard. I knew RM and Suga when they were in middle school before they joined the Dime Lions. They stayed with the foster family that lived in my neighborhood. I knew they had been kicked out of the house and were basically living with the Lion's, so when I saw they were working alone, I got curious. For a year or so, I convinced my uncle to continue buying from them even when he started getting a little suspicious about the guys stealing. The guys knew I looked out for them, and we were cool for a while. Then my mom got sick," he paused for a moment looking away from you.

You reached out and placed your hand on his leg knowing how hard it was for him to talk about his mom and Dawon.

Collecting himself, Hoseok went on, "So I asked for an in with the guys, I needed money and I knew cars. I could remove the parts more effectively than they could. I also knew some clientele who were always coming by and buying parts because they flip cars for fun, those guys were easy targets. So I guess the three of us were a little gang of misfits for a while, I used the money to help pay for mom's treatment. They used the money to survive.

Then we started taking some younger ones under our wing. RM and Suga got their own place and opened their doors to some kids in a rough spot like they were. But as we got bigger, we started getting sloppy. We had been at it for about a year at this point. The guys started taking on some other jobs, but I stuck to what I did best. I wasn't really interested in broadening my horizons. Like I said, we had been at it for a while, and I got cocky, I guess. We had a few scuffles here and there, but we always got out of them okay. Then one night, we got busted scraping a car at some guy's house, and he shot me in the leg, and the cops got me. RM ended up bailing me out of jail, and Suga, Suga got me a gun."

He shifted in his seat and looked at you nervously, "I wanted out at this point, mom was basically on her deathbed, and I was all Dawon had. I couldn't risk going to jail, ya know. I owed RM money for bail, but my uncle got me a job as an actual mechanic, I thought I could earn money the honest way, pay them back and then Dae and I could just go back to our lives. But then the doctors told us about some experimental treatment that could possibly cure mom. How the hell could I pass that up? I would have done anything to help her get better." his brows furrowed as he tightened his fist into balls.

"So I stayed. At this point, BTS was growing, it was an official gang, tattoo and all. We had recruited Jin, who came from money, he used some of his trust fund to fund BTS and help us grow, and RM was starting to get a little ambitious. He wanted territory, he wanted me to take the tattoo and be his third." Hobi squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a sigh, he felt like he had to force the words out of him to confess his sins to you.

"I told you Suga got me a gun after the arrest, and it ended up I'm a really good shot, so good I didn't even have to kill a guy for a long time. I researched where to shoot to keep someone down for a long while without it being fatal, so that's what I did. I worked a few more jobs for RM, we did a big heist. Actually, that was our big break. A team of six other guys and I broke into this old rich dude's mansion, nearly cleaned out his safe when we split the money most of the guys put a percentage into my pot. I walked out that night with almost enough to pay for mom's treatment in full.

I told RM I wouldn't be his third, and he offered me an out, I just needed to take one more job for him, and he would pay out the rest of mom's bills, so that's what I did. I killed for the first time, and then I was free. I wouldn't have to do any of it again. Well, that's what I intended," he paused, his voice growing softer.

You tried to keep your face neutral as he revealed the horrors to you. Not that it mattered Hoseok couldn't even bring himself to look at you.

"Mom ended up passing that night." he laughed, a bitter sound that felt foreign to the kind man you knew, "I swear whatever cruel god is out there pulling all the strings did it to punish me. To let me know, they saw what I had become and that I didn't deserve to have people I love in my life. I wasn't good enough to feel love in this world,"

"Hobi, that's not-" he cut you off with a bitter laugh as he looked upwards to hold back his tears. The motion made him seem as though he was searching for the fates he mocked. "Don't y/n, I know what I am,"

"Dae was a senior when mom passed, and it absolutely broke her. I had to fight to get her to go to school for those last few months. Hell, it was a fight to get her out of bed for her graduation. Her exit exams were a disaster, and the councilors at the college were understanding, for the most part. They still admitted her to the school, but not a drop of financial aid was offered to her. She deserved so much more," Hobi's voice was laced with bitter disdain, his eyes looking far off.

"So I did everything I could to give it to her. I borrowed from Namjoon, enough to cover her entire admission at Alcorn University."

"Hobi, that's so much," you couldn't hold the comment in. It was near impossible for an ordinary person to buy their way into Alcorn if they didn't get scholarships, the tuition at the prestigious school was over $20,000 a semester for admission alone.

"And I did it, I had Jin make up a fake scholarship for her, send her a cute little letter telling her about the award. She thought that she earned a full ride, and I let her believe it. I even borrowed enough so she would stay in the dorms, I figured it would be safest to keep her out of the house. I didn't know what kind of jobs RM was going to have me do."

"I took the tattoo, and killing became more of a normal thing for me. It started to get easier, I kept my distance and tried my hardest to not even see their eyes.

There was a big turf war that year. I don't know, the city was on the brink of a recession, a lot of big players in the city were changing the rules of the game. Business owners fought to take down other businesses simply so theirs could stay open, the market was a disaster. I never cared about the politics of any of it, I just did what I was told, and because of that, I'm still not totally sure all I did that year. What lives I took. Who all I hurt. I did everything I could to forget those nights and the blood. I told myself I was doing it for a good reason, ya know.

I didn't want to know, I thought I would save that for the day I'm standing outside of hell, and they list off every single one of my evil deeds before they sentence their judgment." Hoseok's vacant eyes started to shine with tears.

"And that was the stupidest fucking thing I could have ever done. I had no clue who had it out for me, I had started feeling invincible. I didn't even consider that someone would want to take their revenge, I had killed Kim Martin Sr.'s son."

Your blood chilled at the name, and he didn't look at you as he continued.

"He was some big business owner or something, I was supposed to kill him, but there was a mix-up, and I got his son, Kim Martin Jr. instead. Whoever made the call decided that killing his son was just as effective because the grief practically destroyed him. A few misguided stock investments, while he was grieving, crashed his empire. He lost everything and had to move to the Westside in the aftermath.

Suga kept good tabs on the guy, but then he fell off the grid. We figured he left town or hell maybe he died. We didn't consider him a threat, he showed no interest in coming after BTS, so I didn't even think to keep an eye out for Dawon."

You felt hot tears roll down your face as you realized what happened. The media painted Martin as the bad guy. They accused him of losing his business after his son died due to extreme drug abuse. The city officials wrote him off as such a pathetic low life, that come the time of his death that his murder was barely investigated. It was simply declared a drug deal gone wrong. But he was a father, a father who lost everything to a hitman and wanted to return the favor.

Hoseok believed he didn't deserve love. Whatever higher power that was calling the shots took everything away from him as punishment.

You think of your best friend now long passed, her beautiful smile and contagious laugh. The way she could always read you and knew exactly what you needed, whether it be your favorite ice cream on your period or a trip to the botanical gardens in the middle of the night when she knew you were missing home a bit more than normal.

There was a loose glass in the greenhouse that hosted the plants native to your home. You would both scale the fence to the gardens late at night and push that glass panel in and carefully crawl into the greenhouse. The air would be filled with the floral scents you grew up with, and you would just walk the rows of plants and run your fingers over the velvet petals and waxy leaves.

Until Dawon would play music, a playlist the two of you made of songs in your native tongue. You would dance around the humid greenhouse singing on the top of your lungs while Dawon would laugh and clap along, excitedly shouting with you when she recognized a word or two.

You thought about the way you and Hoseok both carried a burden of guilt after she passed. Until now, you had felt like you failed her as a best friend and roommate.

For three years, you had tortured yourself with thoughts like if you hadn't procrastinated so much on your assignments that week, you would have been home when she decided to make a late snack run. You told yourself the robber probably wouldn't have stopped her if you were together. You reasoned that two of you would have deterred her as a target.

Or maybe he would have just shot you instead. Dawon would have recovered from the loss so much better, she had Hoseok to comfort her and family and friends to support her. You were merely an exchange student in a city with no morals, loved by no one, but taken in out of guilt by her brother. It would've been a better trade.

You tortured yourself with these thoughts day and night consumed with feelings similar to survivor's guilt.

You never understood Hoseok's guilt, until tonight, you felt like there was nothing he could have done to make that night play out differently. But now you realize he could have anything, and it might have made a difference.

"Y/n, I understand if you hate me," Hoseok said softly, watching the tears that dripped down your cheek as you processed everything he told you.

"I wanted to honor Dawon's wish. I didn't expect you to do so much for me, for you to become my best friend and for you to make me feel normal. I kept this from you because you were the closest thing to her I had left. There was a time where I thought I would distance myself from you when you moved out. That I would just become another hazy detail to the tragedy, and you would move on completely with your life, but y/n you were so sad, and you needed me too.

When you moved out, I was terrified of something happening to you. I couldn't stop myself from checking up on you. I couldn't let us grow apart." Hoseok's voice broke off as you looked at him, the pain and betrayal in your eyes.

"Y/n, you're the closest thing I have to redemption, protecting you, being your friend is the last thread of humanity I have left, I can't lose you," he pleaded.

"You watched me blame myself," you whispered accusingly, your eyes shining with betrayal.

"You watched me tear myself apart, and used comforting me to make you feel better about yourself?"

He flinched at your words, "I tried everything I could to convince you there was nothing you could have done," Hobi argued feebly.

"Everything but tell the truth," you hissed as hot tears rolled down your cheek.

You got up as a sob escaped you, your face red and snot running from your nose. Hoseok stood with you, but you flinched away with a broken no.

"I need time, Hoseok," you begged.

You swallowed thickly as you did everything in your power to keep it together, "I don't want to hate you, but please, I need time to think about everything," you assured. Even knowing what he did, he was right. You needed him too. If you lost him, you truly didn't have anyone in the city who cared if you lived or died tomorrow. And maybe settling for that made you your own kind of monster.

It was funny how he claimed such a tarnished person could be his redemption.

You secure your bag to your shoulder, stepping out into the night air and pulling the door closed behind you. You couldn't even bring yourself to lock the door behind you, afraid that if you stopped moving for one second that you would completely break down and be unable to make it home. You only hoped Hoseok was smart enough to check the door behind you and make sure to lock it.

You counted the stairs as you made your descent and into the parking lot, making an effort to take in your surroundings. You tried to list off the colors of the cars as you passed them, and while some distant part of you did the action, you still felt like the effort wasn't reaching whatever corner of your brain you were hiding in.

You got a lot better with controlling your anxiety attacks as you made it further in college, even going as far as taking advantage of the university's free therapy sessions to get professional guidance in your junior year. You defaulted to your go-to grounding technique as your feet moved of their own accord to carry you home. 5,4,3,2,1 was an exercise that made you aware of your surroundings and tether yourself to this world when your mind felt a dimension away.

The technique walked you through your five senses, making you list off 5 things you could see, 4 things you could feel, 3 things you could hear, two things you could smell, and one thing you could taste. Even in your most anxious moments, you were a slut for making a good list. You always found this exercise more soothing than any breathing technique.

Your eyes searched without really seeing as you tried to find five things you could see around you. Straining yourself to really take in your surroundings, you settled for a yellow fire hydrant, a car parked on the side of the road, a penny on the ground, a drainage inlet tucked into the curb, and finally your own yellow shoes pacing down the concrete sidewalk.

You were going to be okay, you reminded yourself as you took an intentional breath.

Next, four things you can touch, you focused on your breathing as you reached an arm out to graze your fingertips along with the rough brick of the building you walked by.

You shifted a little more with each step, concentrating on how the fabric of your clothes moved across your skin and curling your toes into the padding of your shoes. You didn't count each feeling, your wandering mind struggling to really take in each sensation, but you were sure you touched four things by now.

This was a mistake you often caught yourself making when counting down like this. Sometimes you were in such a rush to reach the end and get to one as if identifying one taste would magically make all your anxieties go away that you forget to take it slow and really center yourself.

Three things you can hear, it was at the time, as you strained to let the world in through the all-consuming pounding of your heart in your ears, that you realized you were whimpering to yourself slightly. The awareness of your own vulnerability made you stumble as your mind spiraled, and you struggled to find something to tether you back to the earth.

You began walking faster before realizing you're not certain you were going the right way. So you came to a halt, realizing you couldn't bring yourself to focus enough to take in your surroundings. You stared at the street sign for a long time, repeating the letters to yourself as you made them form a word finally settling on Gardenia.

Your breathing hitched as you realized you had wandered off the main streets and into a neighborhood in your daze. You were lost, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about it, and the lack of fear flashed an alarm in your mind that let you know you were too far gone to count away your anxieties.

You struggled to breathe as you tried to come up with a decision. You needed to ground yourself to calm down. You needed to list off 5 things you could see, fourth things you could feel, three things you could hear, two things you could smell, and one thing you could taste. You knew the only way to bring yourself back to the world was to become aware of your settings.

But it felt as if the part of your brain that knew all these things didn't even touch whatever part of your mind was controlling you now. You were better off giving directions to the light pole you stood under.

You felt your breathing get harder as you desperately gasped in all the air you could. Your arms and legs began to tingle as your body over oxidized, and your head began to spin.

Slowly you slumped to the ground, wrapping your arms around the light pole you had stopped under as you spiraled.

What were you even doing before this moment? How did you even get here? You forced your eyes open wide, hoping the action would make you actually see and register what you were looking at to no avail.

What were you doing, what were you doing, what were you doing?

You struggled to reign in your thoughts of your laughing best friend and her crying brother. Or was it your crying best friend and his dead sister?

You were supposed to find three things you could hear. Your crying doesn't count. A more logical voice seemed to get through to you.

You strained your ears to hear past your own breathing, you could hear a frog croaking in the grass nearby, you felt the earth beneath you to confirm you had in fact settled in a patch of grass. You smiled to yourself proud of your progress as you continued to listen as you continued to listen. You heard the electricity buzzing in the light pole you had wrapped your arms around, you felt almost childlike as you opened your eyes. Actually, seeing this time as you looked up at the pole, you were around.

You needed one more sound, you strained your ears, expecting to be met with something like a far off car driving by. Instead, you heard your name being called. You blinked as you turned away from the street lamp and towards the repeating sound of a familiar set of syllables coming from a familiar voice.

Jungkook jogged up to as he saw you curled around a lamppost. Even from a distance, he could see the rapid way your chest was rising and falling in that familiar chaotic rhythm he only saw when he found Taehyung or Yoongi having a panic attack. You looked up at him with a tear-stained face and saw the confusion of his presence take you off guard and snap whatever control you had over yourself.

Your face crumpled as a sob broke from your chest, and you turned away from him and curled yourself around the light pole a little tighter.

Jungkook felt such a rush of guilt and panic at the sight of you so broken that he ignored the dull ache in his knees as he instinctively fell down in the grass next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you from the cold metal pole, trying to position comfortably in his chest.

Jungkook shifted as he uncurled his legs from beneath his body and stretched them out next to yours in front of him, trying to touch as much of his body to you in comfort. You didn't resist, but the jolting motions did seem to make you more upset for a short moment. Jungkook realized he forgot to ask for permission to touch you before he acted.

He knew Tae preferred physical comfort to calm down, but sometimes it could act more as a trigger when unwelcomed. He loosened his grip hesitantly, and you wrapped your arms around his middle, hugging him closer to you in response.

Physical contact is. He thought to himself as he began stroking one hand up and down your back and rocking you both side to side slightly as if he was trying to calm a baby from a tantrum.

Which he basically was doing, you thought bitterly to yourself as you accepted the comfort.

You were too far gone to calm yourself down. You had ridden the river of upsetting thoughts that triggered your attack all the way down, and now you risked floating out to sea and losing yourself forever. Not actually forever, just until you would cry yourself unconscious and wake up to start anew. But you supposed accepting comfort was better than sleeping outside in a neighborhood you didn't know.

Jungkook whispered to you, not the sweet nothings people typically say when they see people break down like 'it's going to be okay,' or most annoyingly 'breath.' No Jungkook simply told you, 'you're safe,' 'take your time,' 'you're stronger than you give yourself credit for' and in your case most importantly, 'exhale.'

When people see you having a panic attack and hear the loud gasp you make as you fight to breathe, they instinctively tell you to breathe as a way to calm down. But it's your failure to let the air out that keeps your body over oxidized, making it harder for you to feel in control of yourself.

Slowly, you regained control of your body, and your desperate gasps for air morphed into shallow panting. Your shallow breathing morphed into soft whimpers and sniffled. Jungkook held you as your continuous knit itself together, and you faced the pain your mind was so desperate to escape.

He rubbed you back as you let out soft sobs as you reopened wounds that had healed into jagged scars. You cried for Dawon and her undeserved death. For Hoseok and the guilt you knew, he carried every day. You cried for Kim Martin, who died at the hands of the killer that stole his son. You cried for yourself, over the fear of the future as you saw it grow intimately tangled with a notorious gang.

You don't know how long Jungkook waited as you reeled yourself back together. He waited long after you finished crying, knowing just because you had control of yourself physically didn't mean you were mentally ready to face the world, so he wrapped you in his warmth and hummed to himself as he rocked you both slowly.

You loosened and tightened your grip on his shirt and curled and uncurled your toes as you tried to become more aware of your body. You were basically sprawled out on the grass with your upper body twisted and pulled into Jungkook's middle. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but you weren't willing to risk losing his warmth to move.

You licked your lips, and the jarring taste of your salty tears pulled you from your self pitying thoughts, deciding to work your way up the list you once again started to count.

One thing you taste, salt.

Two things you smell: you inhaled deeply and took in the smell of laundry detergent that clung to Jungkkook's shirt. "Detergent," you mumbled into his shirt, and the sound of a coherent word leaving you made Jungkook's humming stop as he looked down at you, nuzzling your face deeper into his chest. He held in his chuckle as you stiffed the air again, and confidently said, "and grass."

You finally pulled yourself away from him only slightly to turn your face away from him, your cheek still pressed against his chest.

"I can hear frogs, cars nearby, and.. your heart," you listed as you looked up at him from under you thick lashes still clumped with tears, "it's louder than mine," you observed as you listened to the hammering in his chest.

He was from a different kind of nerves.

He recognized the countdown and realized you were working to ground yourself, "What can you feel?" he prompted eager to get you to move on from his pounding heart.

"Your t-shirt, it's soft, the grass poking at me through my jeans, my bra digging into me" you wrinkled your nose as you became aware of the discomfort.

"And?" Jungkook prompted. A smile curled your lips as you looked up at him mischievously, "You're abs," you giggled as you sat up, finally pulling away from him. Jungkook felt the heat crawl up his neck as he turned away, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

"And what do you see?" he asked gently, looking everywhere but you.

You smiled at his bashfulness as you look around, "I see the street sign, the green grass," you pause as you squint, "I think that's either a rock or some dog poop over there," Jungkook let out a startled laugh. You smiled to yourself proudly as you continued.

"Our shadows from the street light, and,” you pause realizing how close the two of you are, "the little mole underneath your lip."

"Good," he whispered, and you watched in fascination how his lips formed the words, "Are you ready to get up now, or do you need a few minutes?" he asked. It was the way his mouth twisted into a smile at the end of the sentence that made you realize you were still staring at his lips. You blinked before looking up at his eyes, which was alight with a teasing glint.

"I can stand," you answered, flustered as you pulled your body away from him. Maneuvering your feet beneath you to get up. Jungkook offered you a hand once he was up helping pull you to your feet, before bending down and grabbing your purse for you. Your feet still tingled in that pins and needles feeling. You wiggled your hands to wake up your fingers as well, but other than that, you felt like you recovered from the physical toll of the panic attack quite well.

"C'mon my place is at the end of this road, let me grab a car and drive you home," he offered.

You walked with him obediently, your hands brushing past each other twice before Jungkook's hand finally snatched yours mid-swing; you looked down and watched as your fingers intertwined with his effortlessly. You looked to him to see a change in his expression, but he looked straight ahead as he walked, acting as if nothing happened.

You smiled at yourself, thankful for the affection. You always did get a little clingy after panic attacks, relying heavily on skinship and the feeling of someone taking care of you as a way to feel calm. You were surprised how easy it was for you to let Jungkook fall into that roll despite barely knowing him. But you suppose in the handful of interactions the two of you shared, he's always prioritized your comfort and safety.

"This is your house?" you asked as you took in the massive white art deco house behind the gate you stopped in front of. The gate buzzed and rolled open for the two of you of its own accord and rolled open for the two of you.

Jungkook smiled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah, kinda," he said with a shrug.

You raised a brow, "kinda?"

"It's complicated, c'mon let's get you home," he said with a tug reminding you that the two of you were still holding hands. You flushed but followed obediently as you made your way to the garage.

You squinted as your eyes were met with a flood of fluorescent light upon opening the door. A row of vehicles lined its way down the length of the garage, varying from sports car, to jeep, to a large black truck at the end of the row. A line of 4 motorcycles along the furthest wall.

"J-Hope sells Namjoon a car any chance he gets," Jungkook chuckled as he took in your awed expression.

"J-Hope?" you questions, and Jungkook's smile faltered.

"That's what we call Hoseok," he clarified.

You nodded in understanding, "Like how Taehyung goes by V?" you asked, and he nodded.

"Hoseok, does he sell drugs like V does?" you asked curious of what all Hoseok's gang involvement entailed.

Jungkook opened his mouth to answer but was cut off as the adjacent door slammed up from what looked to be inside the house, revealing a man in a black t-shirt with a mop of platinum blond hair.

"There you are," he practically growled as he stormed in the room.

The man was dwarfed by Jungkook a good bit, but somehow Jungkook seemed to cower and appear smaller as the man approached, dropping your hand as if he were caught doing something he shouldn't.

You looked at him curiously and wondered if he was.

"Yoongi hyung," he greeted as he tried to force a smile, "I was just about to-"

"Save it," he snapped, "I have half the army out looking for you, ya know," he turned his fury to you much to your surprise as he added "both of you."

Your mouth fell open, shocked by the confusion apparent on your face as he continued, "Do I need to babysit both of you, because believe it or not, she's taking up a lot of my time. I really can't handle you getting flakey on me Jungkook, we need to know that you're safe,"

Jungkook looked down as he lectured, murmuring a small apology.

"And you" Yoongi turned to you, "That goes for you too, the Black Tips are still on your tail, I can't do much for you if you go running off,"

"Hyung," Jungkook hissed. "Not now, please."

Yoongi blinked at his younger in surprise, turning to you and making a point to really look at you, and take you in. Your red-rimmed eyes and splotchy face, the way you seemed to lean into Jungkook. He recognized that far off look in your eyes like you had to concentrate on being present in the moment, and Yoongi remembered the warning in Hoseok's earlier message when he told him you had run out.

"Yeah, okay, get her home and come straight back when you're done, we still need to talk," he said dismissively. None of your questions were answered, but you didn't resist as Jungkook put a hand on your back and guided you towards a nearby car.

"Good night, princess," Yoongi called over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. Unlike with Jimin, you felt like you were being mocked when Yoongi called you that.

"Who was that, your brother, and why did he say he needs to babysit me?" you questioned as you both settled into the fine black vehicle the windows were so deeply tinted on the outside you wondered if it was safe to drive at night, but upon getting in the car, you noted that you could see through the windows clearly.

Jungkook waited until after he put the key in the ignition and backed out into the driveway before he started talking."That's Yoongi hyung or Suga, he's head of surveillance for BTS. He was the one who sent out a message to go escort you home when J– Hobi Hyung told him you were upset and left his apartment so late. I was on my way in that direction when I ran across you on our street," he said, breaking at a stop sign and turning on the blinker.

You looked out the window as you took in everything he's told you, noting that you were stopped again by the light pole you had a panic attack under. Suga was one of the original members in Hoseok's story. You thought to yourself as you connected the dots. Your head still felt a little foggy as you recovered from the literal mental breakdown. The sudden change of lighting earlier had started to make your head throb. You were ready for bed.

"Hobi sent people to look for me?" was all you could manage, not entirely understanding the emotions stirring in your chest.

"Well yeah, I mean, I was supposed to escort you home after work, and you kind changed plans, so we had to roll with them. I figured Hoseok would have taken you home after everything, so I didn't wait around. And then when Suga did send out the message I didn't notify them that I found you it was dumb on my part," he clarified.

You leaned onto the console between the two of you, propping your cheek upon your hand in a way that squished your lips into a slight pout. Jungkook tried not to stiffen as you got more in his space. Peeking down at you through his peripherals he saw your brow furrow as you processed everything.

"Why do you care?" you finally settled on asking as you still struggled to pinpoint why so many people would be worried about your safety.

Hoseok, you understood, to a certain extent, you even understood why he called in the favor. He knew your patterns and signs, you were probably shouting you were about to have an attack with your body language as you walked out the door. He knew he could never comfort you, not when he was the trigger. What you didn't understand was why BTS would listen.

"Because you're still not safe, and BTS took responsibility for your safety when I did," Jungkook said, simply turning to look at you as he stopped at a red light.

If you were in the right state of mind, such a comment would have triggered an immediate fight. You had been on your own for far too many years to suddenly need a whole gaggle of men to tend to you as if you were some helpless girl. You were a grown-ass woman. But you weren't yourself as you searched for a response in the fog of your mind.

"You're not responsible for anything about me?" you said softly as you shifted to rest your hand on your chin.

"Y/n what all did Hoseok hyung tell you?" Jungkook asked, confused, you weren't rejecting his protection, you just seemed oblivious. He assumed the cat was out of the back as soon as you learned what BTS was, who they were concerning you.

"Just how he joined BTS as how he ya know," you stuck your pointer finger and thumb in the air making soft 'pew pew' sounds. You couldn't bring yourself to talk seriously about the subject. Too much of this night had been severe for your liking.

"Y/n, you saved my life last week," Jungkook said, trying to look in your eyes and convey all his gratitude. You shifted under his stare.

"I wouldn't call it that," you murmured, turning away, "The lights green," you added flatly trying to turn his attention from you. He ignored you and placed a warm hand over yours.

"I would, and because of that, I and all of BTS owe you a life debt. We want to protect you as best as we can, especially since you're not totally safe from the guys you saved me from," he emphasized.

You looked up at him owlishly as you thought over everything he said. But whatever you were going to say died on your lips as a car honked its horn behind you. You both jumped startled, and the intensity of the moment evaporated slightly.

After a few moments of silence, you decided he didn't require a response. You can't imagine you would give a correct one anyways. You looked down at your hand, his larger one still resting atop your own and turned your wrist quickly and intertwining your fingers.

You rode in silence the rest of the way home, and you were fighting your eyelids as you pulled up to your complex.

Jungkook wondered if you always fell asleep in the car even with dangerous men. He wondered if that's why he never sees you take the bus at night.

"You really should consider living somewhere safer," Jungkook muttered under his breath as he shut off the engine.

You bit your tongue holding in several comments and gave a noncommittal 'mmm' as you unbuckled and stepped out the car to see he planned to walk you to your door again.

You grew embarrassed as you climbed the stairs and scrambled to think of parting words dwelling on everything Jungkook had done for you that night, "Thank you," you finally forced yourself to say. Jungkook looked down at you as you came to a halt in front of your door. "For earlier, with the crying and the counting," you offered awkwardly your eyes looking everywhere but his as you breached the sensitive topic.

"Oh, it wasn't a problem, really. I'm glad I could help" he laughed nervously, and you smiled, reaching for his hand before he could bring it to the back of his head, a nervous habit you were quickly picking up on him having.

"I'm serious Jungkook, a lot of people freak out and make the situation much worse for me, and I get it seeing someone crying like that it's never an easy thing to react to, but you did—" you hesitated as you searched for the right words, "You were good, comforting."

You didn't give yourself time to question it as you stood on your tiptoes, deciding to convey your gratitude in a way that your stuttering mouth wouldn't botch, and grazed a small peck aiming for his cheek. Unfortunately, the height difference and your own lack of balance had you landing more on his jawline. Jungkook gasped only slightly at the feeling of your soft lips on his jaw, the heat of your body radiating off of you in your nearness. You smiled at him again as you turned towards the door to unlock it.

"Haha yeah, happy to hear that," he responded, his voice crawling in pitch as he ordered his heart to beat, and you gave him another warm smile as you pushed open your door.

"Good night, Jungkook."

"Good night, Ella."

Jungkook's face split into a grin as you closed the door, a hand reaching for his jaw and pressing against where you kissed him as if it would simulate the feeling. His steps seemed to bounce as he made his way down the concrete stairs and back to his car.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading please tell me what you think! Your comments make me eager to write more :)

Pt.5 ->

#bts fic #jungkook x reader #bts mafia au #btsghostie #bangtanhq #btsbookclub #btsguild #bangtanscenery #bts gang au #gangster jungkook #gangster yoongi #gangaster taehyung #gangster hoseok #jungkook au #bestfriend hoseok #no harm list #crazy4myself fic #drug dealer teahyung #jungkook fluff

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scarletwinterxx · 4 years

Text

First and Last pt. 4

Hello! I was going to post earlier but got distracted. had to pause writing for bit bcs I was watching Hyuck’s vlive. Anywayyysss thank you for all the love and support. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE || PART FOUR || FINALE || BONUS

“Do you think he’ll like it?”

“He said he likes tiramisu so yea” Jeno answered

“But I don’t want it to seem like I’m bribing him with food. Maybe I should just-“

“Y/N-ah, it’s fine. Jaemin will love it. And he’s not really mad at you, you know. He’s just sad and disappointed” Jeno assured the girl who was currently fiddling with the cake she was holding.

When Y/N came to Jeno, asking him for help he didn’t hesitate to say yes. He knew the situation was a bit complicated considering his friends are not on speaking terms at the moment.

He could only imagine the tension over at Haechan and Renjun’s dorm.

“You know that doesn’t make it any better” y/n deadpanned, the boy sitting across her just shooting her one of his famous eye smile

“Don’t worry about it, where is Haechan by the way?” Jeno asked

“He still has two more classes, I had to call him this morning to make sure he actually got out of bed” y/n stated, Jeno was just smiling to himself as Y/n speaks about his friend.

Even if their relationship was pretend at the beginning, it looks like it isn’t anymore. He’s just not sure if those two were aware of it.

The first time he saw y/n and Haechan together, he didn’t even think twice about their relationship. They just clicked so easily it seemed like they’ve been dating for a long time.

All those times the two were together, it wouldn’t even cross anyone’s mind that it was fake.

They brought out sides of each other, better sides, without even realizing it.

“I should go over and see if he’s okay but I don’t want to bother Renjun, I’m sure I’m the last person he would want to see” The girl mumbled, she looked so down and ridden with guilt

“That’s not true, he just needs some time. He’ll come around” Jeno said then shot Y/N a comforting smile. The two didn’t notice Jaemin approaching the bench they were sitting on

“Hello” Jaemin said making the pair jump in surprise. Y/N immediately stood up and bowed her head, holding out the box towards Jaemin

“I’m really really sorry about making you upset and lying to you. I understand if you don’t want to be friends with me anymore, here’s a little peace offering to lessen your sadness atleast for a bit” Y/N said, her voice getting lower as she speaks more

Jaemin leaned his head down, standing in line of Y/N’s sight

“My eyes are not on the floor though” the blue haired boy chuckled

“Sorry”

“You need to stop apologizing for everything, like I said I wasn’t mad” Jaemin shot the girl a small smile then accepting the gift she was handing over

“Sorr- I mean... Yea...” Y/N stuttered, trying to stop herself from saying sorry again

“Don’t worry, thanks for this. You didn’t have to but thank you”

“I really do apologize for making you upset. That was never the intention we had when we did it” Y/N told him and also Jeno

“May I know why? Why did you do it?”

“Hyuck... he just doesn’t want people to give him the pity looks anymore. I would never understand what it’s like to be in his place, no one should ever know what it’s like to be cheated on. He just got tired of being reminded of that everyday”

“We don’t even talk about it” Jaemin mumbled, a pout forming on his lips as he recall if they ever mentioned Lia in any conversation they’ve had. Renjun was very adamant about never speaking her name ever again so he can’t remember much

“I know but you also have been treating him with baby gloves, Hyuck won’t break you know. He might have been upset, sad and broken about it but he’s also trying to get better. If you tiptoe around him then he’ll feel like he’s not making any progress” Y/N explained, the two boys now understanding more

“Did he tell you this?” Jeno asked, wondering if he should have listened more to his friend or if he could have done something more

“No, but I can see it. He didn’t have to tell me. That’s why I agreed to do it, not because I wanted to make Lia jealous or to fool you guys but because I saw he was tired of tiptoeing too. He needed some room to breath, if having a fake girlfriend is what it takes to get that then why not”

"Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like he was using me. If anything we really helped each other out. These past few months have been an adventure compared to the past 20 years of my life, I’m thankful for that”

After Y/N’s explanation, they finally get why.

“Thank you, too” Jaemin said surprising Y/N

“For what?” she asked back

“You understood our bestfriend more than we did. You saw right through him and helped him when he needed it and he didn’t even say a word, thank you for being there for him”

Y/N smiled warmly at him, getting a little teary eyed

“Ya don’t cry, Haechan will kill me if he sees you crying” Jaemin said making the girl laugh

“Thank you”

“So we’re good now? Shall we eat this cake? Thanks by the way. Now I’m going to prove how Tiramisu cake is so much better” Jaemin said, the atmosphere significantly lifting.

To say Y/N feels nervous is an understatement, she’s currently standing outside Renjun and Hyuck’s dorm waiting for the door to open.

When it finally did, she felt like her heart skipped and she lost all the words she was about to say,

“What are you doing here? Hyuck’s not here yet” Renjun answered, his voice devoid of any emotion making Y/N feel more nervous but she knew she had to do it.

“I actually came to talk to you” she told the boy, honestly speaking she was expecting to have the door slammed on her face but Renjun just opened the door wider and gestured for her to go in.

“You can sit, you know” Renjun said when he saw Y/N standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room

Renjun sat on the seat across from Y/N, still sporting a blank look on his face.

Y/N took a deep breath before speaking.

“I fully understand why you got mad, I’m sorry for lying. I do feel bad for fooling you like that-”

“Then why do it?” Renjun asked, never the one to beat around the bush always straight to the point

“Hyuck. And some selfish reason I had, trying to feel something more”

Renjun raised his brow at this, a signal for Y/N to explain some more

“It was never his intention to hurt you guys, he just needed a little more room to breath. He does appreciate you caring for him, especially you. He never tells you guys but he does. He cherishes you all”

“I had to watch him be so down for months, did you know he ran away?” to this Y/N shook her head, this story new to her

“You already know he never confronted Lia, we were all telling him to talk to her and that he didn’t deserve to be treated like that but he was waiting for her to say her side. Then when Lia broke up with him, making it look like he was the bad guy, he just ran away”

“Last summer, we thought he just went home but when we decided to visit him his mom told us he hasn’t been home all summer. He went back to Jeju for awhile, by himself. He only came back after we went there and literally had to drag him” as Renjun retold the story, a little smile appears on the side of his face.

“He looked so lost, I’ve never seen him like that. I wish I never see him like that ever again. That’s why we’ve been very cautious around him”

“You’re a good friend, sounds like you helped him alot” Y/N said

“Looks like he doesn’t want that help though”

“I needed the help, I didn’t know I did but apparently I do. I’ve always been alone, I’m never anyone’s first choice. No one would ever ask me first to be their partner in a project or ask me to go out and hang out. I was always that girl in the background, only being asked so it won’t get awkward. When Donghyuck asked me to be his girlfriend, well fake girlfriend, my first question was why me”

At this, it was Y/N turn to smile

“Out of everyone in that room, he saw me and somehow thought ‘Oh I pick her’. When we did that project last semester, I was already expecting I was going to do it alone but suddenly Hyuck was sitting next to me going on about when should we start doing the project, my first thought was ‘someone picked me’“

Y/N was fiddling with her fingers, a habit she developed when she gets anxious

“It takes strength to admit your weaknesses, I admit I’m not the best when it comes to making friends or expressing myself. It’s a big fault of mine, I overthink a lot. I worry over things I shouldn’t be worrying about. I’m a mess” Y/N said

Renjun now understand why she was saying.

Out of everyone, she understood what it feels like to be a mess. They all were but Y/N saw the mess Haechan was trying so hard to hide. She saw how he was struggling but unlike the rest of them, she didn’t pressure him into getting better. She just let him take the steps he needed until Hyuck felt okay again.

“Hyuck knows when to give me space when I need it, he reminds me not to worry about things I absolutely have no control over”

“He gives you that room to breath” Renjun finished the sentence for her, the girl nodding her head gently

“It still gets hard at times but now I know I have someone with me”

While the two were having a serious talk they didn’t hear the door open, Donghyuck entering the dorm room and hearing his bestfriend and the girl he likes having what looks like to be a very serious talk.

“Sometimes you just need to get lost to find yourself again. I get lost a lot, now I met someone who can anchor me down. Am I a bad person for putting that on him?” Y/N asked, a confused look crossing Donghyuck’s face having no clue what they were talking about

“No, he looks like he actually likes it” Renjun chuckled

“I’m sorry, I really am. You didn’t deserve being lied to” Y/N said, apologizing to the boy sitting across from her. For a while Renjun didn’t say anything, the tension rising inside the room

“Do you like him? Like for real?” Renjun asked, Hyuck unconsciously holding his breath waiting for Y/N’s answer.

“I do”

There are moments when it's just the two of them that tells Hyuck she feels the same way about him, but then it goes as fast as it came. He wanted so bad to talk to her about it but he didn’t want to pressure Y/N into anything.

Things started out complicated, their whole relationship wasn’t the typical one. Hyuck knew there are a lot of things to set straight, he’s just finding the right time to do so.

“But this isn’t about us right now. We can resolve that later” Y/N said with a gentle smile, “He needs his bestfriend more than he needs a girlfriend”

“I think right now he prefers you more” Renjun said, Hyuck held in a chuckle. He could already imagine the blush on Y/N cheeks

“I- well... I mean we’re friends”

“What happens to the two of you?”

“I thought I just said this isn’t about us, I’m trying to fix your friendship” Y/N mumbled, Renjun letting out a little laugh before speaking again

“He won’t get rid of me that easily, I just needed the time. As much as we fight and bicker, I don’t think I can live without him. Don’t tell him though”

Little did Renjun knew, Hyuck was standing near by waiting.

“I really am sorry” Y/N said once again

“I understand”

“Now back to my question, so what happens to the two of you. I’m pretty sure Haechan like-” before Renjun could say more Hyuck decided this is a good time to make his presence known

“What is happening here?” Hyuck saw Y/N jump a bit on her seat at the sound of his voice, the girl turning to where he was standing. Acting as if he just arrived and didn’t hear the conversation that just took place between the two.

“I can feel my ears burning, are you talking about me?” Hyuck asked again

“Only the embarrassing stuff you’ve done” Renjun replied, any tension that was there during that party was long gone.

“You two must have been here all day then” Hyuck said then took the seat beside Y/N,

“I heard you bought Jaemin cake” the boy tells Y/N

“As a peace offering”

“Where’s my peace offering?” Renjun asked jokingly, “Uh- well... I thought about how to approach you and a cake didn’t sound like a good plan” Y/N explained seriously

“He’s kidding, he likes hotpot though. If you ever need him to do something, try that” Hyuck told the girl, she just chuckled at his advice

“Stop exposing me like that”

After Y/N and Renjun’s talk, all was well again. The trio had dinner then decided to call it a night, Hyuck volunteering to walk Y/N back to her dorm even when the girl insisted she can just walk alone

“I can go home by myself, it’s been a long day”

“Sorry I can’t hear you” Hyuck said as he throw the take away bags they just finished, Renjun already in the kitchen clearing the rest of the dishes while quietly listening to the two

“I said I can walk home alone” this time Y/N pulled on Hyuck’s shoulder and spekaing directly into Hyuck’s ear, meanwhile the boy just smiles at Y/N’s action

Renjun rolling his eyes at the two but also smiling at them. They were perfect for each other, he thought.

“I heard you this time but deciding not to listen still” Hyuck said then walked to the door, already putting on his shoes

“I swear one day, I’m going to hit you” Y/N mumbled under her breath but the two boys heard it. Renjun laughing at her statement while Hyuck had a smirk on his lips, “And like I said before, I don’t mind being hit on as long as it’s-” Y/N eyes widden, already knowing what Hyuck was about to say so she cut him off

“Okay okay okay, fine. Let’s go. Bye, Renjun” she waved at the boy, Renjun saying a quick goodbye

After the two were out the door, he could hear the faint sound of their playful argument. Y/N must feel that comfortable around Hyuck, he has only ever seen her like that when it’s with Hyuck.

With this thought he pulled his phone out, quickly calling his other friends

“I’d give it 2 weeks, loser treats the winners” Renjun said as Jaemin picks up the call, he didn’t even need to explain

On the other side of the line, Jaemin was smiling widely. Jeno saw this and asked who was on the phone so Jaemin put it on speaker

“I say a week” Jaemin answered

“What are we talking about?” Jeno asked, “How long will it take for Y/N and Haechan to get together for real” Renjun explained,

The other two already understood that Hyuck, Renjun and Y/N made up.

“I don’t think we should be betting on this” Jeno mumbled, meanwhile Renjun rolled his eyes at this statement

“Just say your guess, Jen” Renjun deadpanned

“Injun said two weeks, I said 1″ Jaemin told the boy, “Three” Jeno answered

“Weeks? no way, they like each other too much”

“Day. Three days” Jeno clarified, feeling confident about his guess

“It’s on”

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gguktarts · 4 years

Text

decathect | jjk (1)

1. to withdraw one’s feelings of attachment from (a person, idea, or object), as in anticipation of a future loss

summary: if one thing was clear to you when you first met Jeon Jungkook, it was that he would never love you. at least, not the way you wanted him to.

pairing: jjk x reader genre: unrequited love au? || angst || little fluff if u Squint || drabble series word count: 2.7k parts: 1 / ? | next » cw: uhh kinda unhealthy depictions of a crush, & jk is a fuckboy w lots of tatts and long hair so that deserves a warning on its Own i say

note: so,,, this was supposed to be a short fic bc i wanted my heart broken but it turned into a drabble series……………….we’ll see how that goes!!! rip

You’ve heard of him from your friends, and from their friends: about the infamous Jeon Jungkook and the reputation that precedes him. He’s, first and foremost, an art major — and an excelling one at that. In the short three years he’s been an undergrad, his work has been featured, so far, in a total of 4 major art exhibitions. His displayed work apparently sells rather quickly, too, which surely earns him more than enough money to successfully continue his various artistic endeavors and out-of-uni activities. You’ve heard he’s also into tattoos, boxing, and photography on the side, for example. Whether it was true or not was not something you focused on, but considering his friends were they ones telling the tales, you didn’t doubt it. Not that you thought of it often, or at all, really.

What you did question was why exactly he felt the need to stop by Taehyung’s very own, very private, and very expensive Goghrik’s Vancrylics paint collection to use instead of his own. You didn’t want to think him as cheap because, quite frankly, you knew nothing more than those whispered rumors and offhanded comments Jimin and Yoongi perpetrated on occasion. So, you settled for thinking nothing until you could get concrete answers.

For a long time Jungkook remained a simple ghost, until finally one day he just existed. Everywhere, and then, always. As if meeting him once meant he’d open the door to your home to welcome himself as an indefinite guest, you suddenly had no week free of his presence or his trace. Like a growing avalanche you learned about him with repeated increase, sometimes by choice, and sometimes by mere coincidence. Maybe it was pure coincidence, too, how you came to fall for him — for Jeon Jungkook, the artist, the fuckboy. With time though, you came to a different understanding.

Liking Jungkook was no coincidence. It was a curse – a long, and tediously everlasting hex you’d so far failed to get rid of.

And it all started, you begrudgingly admit sometimes, with some paint and very little luck.

Being in one of the most prestigious Universities in the country naturally means you consistently face the demon of a huge – nay, an enormous campus. A wide lake rests between dispersed buildings while Hi-Q food marts border each cluster of separate dorms, connected all entirely by desire paths and concrete roads. It's no surprise then that a map is the standard gift given to all entrance students, though by now you’ve memorized practically all zones you inhabit (i.e. the Natural Sciences’ Atrium, the Physics Department, and your own dorm). Most people still use theirs, along with the mandatory transportation fare card Admissions urges all newcomers to get. More than anything it’s a must-have for anyone who wants to actually make it on time to class — more so when they’re not blessed with taking courses on a near-by group of Departments.

And it just so happened you’re amongst those ill-fated few.

For four years now you’ve been a resident of Dorm C, exactly the furthest of the dorms from the NS Atrium. Instead you’re — uselessly — at a walking distance from the Plastic Arts department, a place you’ve ventured to for only a single semester back in your second year. Back then you had decided that taking Pottery was a great way to fill in some of your electives, an idea which mostly Taehyung, an art major himself, cemented in your head. You remember nothing of your treks to the department, nor of the lessons you received, but your memory often recalls it happened whenever you visit him. Your final project, a 2-piece set of misshapen cups of tea, still rests atop one of his many bookshelves to this day. Taehyung calls them “endearing”, something about them “truly reflecting a purpose beyond what their ‘perfect brethren’ are subjected to”. Which, really, is code for “they could be used as mugs, but I like them better as vases for Namjoon’s succulents,” and you’re okay with that.

Namjoon, an English Lit major, is Tae’s roommate and the other occupant of their two-bedroom flat. As luck would have it they stay on the floor above your own, right atop your much smaller and much lonelier dorm room. It’s actually one of the shared excuses you all use for your constant visits.

Half of the time you spend on their flat includes being tucked away on their couch, reading astronomy journals or watching documentaries Joon frequently sits through alongside you, or sleeping under Tae’s covers simply because he enjoys the company and can’t seem to sleep otherwise. The rest of the time the boys, sometimes with you in tow on an off day, migrate to Jimin and Yoongi’s shared flat in Dorm D. They share their space with Jungkook, if Yoongi’s complaints about late-night water-fests were anything to go by, though you’ve never seen him there.

No, ironically, the first time you crossed paths with him was in the lobby of Dorm C — your dorm. You remember he was shifting and wandering around like a lost puppy, his eyes restlessly searching for something or someone. It was him, you knew, because he’s often featured in your shared friend’s Instagram posts, and because he’s very hard to miss.

He was — is big, towering over you easily, and was then dressed all in black. A mix of comfy and effortlessly put together in perfect execution, the rolled-up sleeves of his sweater did nothing to hide the ink covering his veiny forearms. You were instantly thankful — you’ve always been drawn to tattoos. They’re admirable on others and on yourself, and you instantly had to push down the desire to keep marking your body for reasons only pertinent to the feeling of the needle on your skin or the aesthetics of the design. Your poor ass couldn’t afford another so soon, anyway.

The other thing that gave him away was his signature dark hair, long and parted in the middle to fall over his round, soft eyes. It covered his multiple piercings but did nothing to take away from the sweet persona that settled over him. Despite the dark and the goth, he seemed… cute. Very cute, and very confused. The way his eyebrows furrowed at his phone screen just before he searched through the scattered students was a dead giveaway. He was likely lost, but that wasn’t very surprising. For all the time Tae and Joon spend on Dorm D, the same couldn’t be said otherwise. Visits to Dorm C were seldom for the rest.

And a lost Jungkook… wasn’t your problem. A simple look at his boyish features was enough to ignite some sort of weird somersaults in your chest, and you wanted nothing more than to ignore it and run far away. So, you tried.

Blinking away the staring he had thankfully not noticed, you made for your own room as embarrassment coursed through your jittery limbs.

You didn’t make it very far before your plan backfired. You had to go near him to reach the elevator, and it apparently didn’t matter that you were practically hiding inside your bag, your hand rummaging through it for your room cardkey.

“Hey—uh, Y/N right?” you heard, and your body froze.

A look up, and there he was. Jeon Jungkook, calling your name. It was weird hearing your mesh of letters on his tongue, foreign to his palette yet pronounced to perfection. Equally confused as he looked before, and even further more embarrassed (you couldn’t help but think, amongst all the chaos in your mind, that his voice was ridiculously soothing and fitting for his physicality), your throat only let out a very intellectual “huh?”

“Um,” Jungkook’s eyes went wide, his head cocked to the side at your reaction. His feet shifted under him, and you tried ignoring the way his cheeks grew a lovely shade of pink when he spoke again.

“I’m Jungkook, and hyung—Taehyung mentioned you before. He isn’t answering and I’m a bit lost, so I was wondering if you could give me directions? Unless you’re not… Y/N?”

You’re often a recurrent character in Tae’s stories, so it shouldn’t have surprised you he’s spoken of you before. But it did.

“I am Y/N,” you relented, maybe a bit more bitterly than you intended. You couldn’t help but pout at the sudden reminder of Tae’s love for recording you during your most… inopportune moments. “Where is it you want to go?”

The boy in question rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, a bunny-like smile making a sudden appearance. His teeth seemed to jut out a bit, and his upper lip disappeared almost entirely, but you were sure of one thing instantly: his smile was the prettiest one you’d ever seen.

You felt your chest constrict at the sight without any sense of permission, your ears going up in flames. Clearly, you were bonkers. You continued your walk towards the elevator, praying he’d keep up somewhere a bit farther from you. But he followed without question, easily settling besides you and offering glances from the corner of his eye. You pressed the up button and pretended not to notice, playing around with your cardkey while you both waited.

“To hyung’s dorm — I haven’t ever been there, as strange as it sounds, and I need to borrow some paint.”

“Borrow some paint?” you hummed, the notion seeming somewhat silly to you. “After you’ve used it you can’t return it, so would it really be borrowing?”

You moved to look at him questioningly, curiosity getting the best of you, and the feeling you were hit with was far too paralyzing for you to carry. It was a sudden storm of affection, a wave of currents that spread and tightened, tickling and burning your stomach each second you saw his crinkled eyes, his teeth fully bared into a humorous grin. It made your feet stick to the ground even after the doors of the elevator greeted you open.

“You’re a weird one aren’t you?” he muttered airily, more to himself than anything, before shrugging and prompting you to follow him inside the confined space. “Technically, you’re right, but saying I’m borrowing stuff sounds nicer, doesn’t it? It’s all about semantics. Don’t worry though, hyung lets me take some of his whenever I run out.”

“Okay.”

Neither of you said much after that, but you did take him all the way to Tae’s and Joon’s front door. He thanked you softly before you left, with a smile sincere and gentle in ways you hadn’t expected. You remember nodding along and, possibly, wishing him good luck on his art project, but you weren’t sure by the time you reached your room.

You remember skipping your assignments that night, choosing instead a hot shower and the comforts of your recently cleaned bed. It was the first attempt at forgetting the whole event, a new mission for your mind to complete before a crush settled its anchor.

You were used to six handsome guys. You drew the line at seven.

Meeting Jungkook for the first time was disastrous for the days that followed. Maybe you were being a bit dramatic, but it was rightfully warranted. Your brain had vaguely memorized what he looked like outside of pictures, and now you saw him everywhere. It was the frequency bias all over again, and it had no escape, just like that one time you wanted to dye your hair and suddenly half the population seemed to be dying it that very color. Similarly, interacting with Jungkook meant noticing him in your peripheral when he wasn’t front and center, knowing it was him in the distance. It only worsened when your paths began to regularly cross.

It happened and continuous to happen mostly in the presence of Tae or Joon, or any of Jungkook’s roommates.

Whenever you’d spend some time on the couch with Joon, he was there. Whenever you woke up midday and decide it was high time to cook brunch for three (four then), he was already there. When Yoongi invited you over to hear some of the pieces he’s been working on, Jungkook was miraculously in the apartment. Oh, you wanted to steal some of Tae’s shirts? Jungkook catches you red handed, some stolen paints of his own right in his treacherous hold.

It’s absolutely maddening.

You wouldn’t mind it so much if it weren’t for the fact that each new stare, each new smile, leaves your stomach in complete shambles.

Who could take you back to the time when you hadn’t heard his loud laugh? To when he hadn’t seen you loafing around in your onesie after a killer test and stayed to comfort you? He even called you cute, shared some of his milk and made sure to leave only after he’d seen you smile. Sometimes he’d even notice you watch your documentaries only to pop a random question about space, or even about the science behind Star Trek or Star Wars when “Clearly FTL travel isn’t possible?” (To which you’d answer: “Not yet it isn’t, you non-believer”) before falling quiet and leaving you be. They were small conversations with no more than 3 lines exchanged, but they were more than enough for the butterflies seeping through your ribcage to go on a frenzy.

And despite everything you heard and everything you began to know, Jungkook was possibly the softest, sweetest, and most annoying person you knew. At least superficially.

You still knew nothing personal about him, with your interactions being limited to shared spaces, but you didn’t think much of it until you began to see all kinds of things: his cute habits, his quirks, and even the way his tattoo collection grows.

You’ve silently noticed the way he wiggles his toes when he sits to watch a series, how he blinks a lot when he’s confused. You’ve seen the way he scratches the back of his head when he’s not confident about something, and how his eyes smile before his lips do, and the way his laugh resonates all around the room in the most euphoric melodies. All of this you come to know as unequivocally Jungkook. And you know, you know you’re so whipped for him that you can’t stop being in-tuned with it, with his little things.

But you’re also aware of your situation, and it doesn’t surprise you when your chest starts to hurt over it — over him, because you see his other things: the way each week curls a different girl around his waist, the way his eyes turn cold when he says he doesn’t do relationships, and the way he looks at you.

It’s never with disgust or anything of the sort. It’s just that you’ve seen the way he looks at the girls he fucks with, the girls he finds attractive, the girls he likes for a single night to then discard them.

And he’s never looked at you like that. You suppose that’s good, but... then again, you guess it means you’re nothing. After all, Jeon Jungkook never offers you any hope, he never shows any interest. Technically you’re not even his friend — not really. You’re Taehyung’s other best friend, an outside addition to his usual friend group, and now to his life. You’re okay with that, you have to be. You haven’t sought him out, haven’t done anything to close the gap between you. Water and care is something you never wanted to give your unjustified feelings. You never wanted them to grow, even now.

You just failed to take note of the rain pouring over the earth and pooling beneath your feet, and you don’t notice you’re drowning until you see him at the end of the day.

The girl attached to him is a stranger to you, just like the rest you’ve seen, yet you can’t seem to shake the thought that something must be different. Whatever she has seems to be enough for the tattooed man to shatter his distaste for PDA, at least for the time being.

Your legs hesitate to unceremoniously halt in the middle of the hall. Your eyes battle not to widen and not to stare, for a second desperate to make sure that what you’re seeing is real, that you’re seeing Jungkook kiss for the first time in forever as if you hadn’t known all this time that he fucks and loves behind closed doors.

And it doesn’t matter that the kiss isn’t gentle, that he’s kissing her as if she were the very air he needed to breathe. No, what makes you sick is how he notices, how he sees you, and how he does nothing but pull her closer in response.

You push yourself to move as soon as his eyes drift away again, unwilling to tremble before him and unwilling to make any more mistakes.

Class would have to wait. You needed coffee, even if it meant being late. And you absolutely hate being late to Astrophysics, but you definitely hated seeing him more.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts jungkook #bts fic #bts fanfiction #drabble series: dct

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metalbatandzenko · 4 years

Text

About me taking breaks from this blog

Hey everyone!

You might have noticed that I’ve been taking intermittent breaks from this blog. I try to announce it when I am, because falling off the face of the earth isn’t exactly courteous of me.

I’ve been getting a lot of asks asking if I’m alright and/or if there’s a reason why I’m kind of shutting myself off.

And here’s the thing. I know I don’t technically owe anyone an explanation for why I’ve been doing that.

But I do want to give one.

So think of this as more of an update I guess? Anyways, update under the cut.

Warning: it’s long.

So, about why I’ve been taking breaks/why I haven’t been as interactive lately.

I’ve been rolling this around for a long time and trying to form the words to express all this.

There’s several major factors going on here, but the TLDR is I have an issue with feeling guilty about everything, even when I have no obligation to a person or situation, and it’s tanking my mental health.

1. The first, and most inconsequential, is I’m back to school.

I’m a full time college student generally and have been since I started this sideblog. But as of this semester, I’ve officially transferred to a new university, which means school is taking up more of my time.

I’m also in an honors program now, which means maintaining a 4.0 is—for financial reasons—more important than ever. I’m a bit stressed out, I’m not gonna lie!

Also, the switch to remote has been a particularly rough one. I’m having a really hard time defining the boundary between “school and homework time” and downtime, which means anytime I spend not doing homework is really just spent with me feeling overwhelmed with guilt that I’m not trying to get ahead in class.

2. The world is kind of going through shit right now.

I’d be a liar if I said the state of the world isn’t killing my motivation. There’s a lot of shit going on, and it’s overwhelming. It feels like the second we slow down to catch a breath, a new tragedy hits.

3. My depression is kind of killing me.

Like everyone, isolation is fucking with me. It has the fun side effect of piling onto my depression, so I’ve been really having a hard time finding the will to do anything, even things I enjoy.

This also links to that feeling of guilt over not being productive: I want to do something I enjoy, but I can’t because I’m consumed with guilt over the fact I’m not meeting some perceived “productivity quota”, so instead of doing that work, or doing something I enjoy, I do nothing. I’ve been sleeping more these past few months than I ever have, but I’m still tired all the time.

4. Family matters.

I’m lucky in that I’m quarantined with my parents, so I have some interaction, but that also means that I am quarantined with my abusive father. As a closeted, nb gay mixed-asian, being forced to spend almost all my time with my violently racist, homophobic and transphobic white dad has been uh. not great for my mental health.

He also just finished his second round of treatments and we’re waiting on a prognosis to see if he’s cancer free or not, so I’ve been grappling with my extremely mixed feelings surrounding him (as well as the fact that I’ll likely be outed at some point and have to plan for an emergency exit when I live in a different state than the rest of my family and the majority of my friends in the middle of a pandemic) for the past six months or so.

5. I have been teetering dangerously close to full burnout for about five months now, and I think it’s finally hit.

Like I mentioned, I’m sleeping more than I ever have in my life. I’m tired all the time, and I keep getting hit with waves of just. really aggressive sadness and isolation. I’ve cried more in the past month than I have in uh. years.

Writing fanfic is a hobby. The problem is, my hobby overlaps with my major: I’m a creative writing major, so a lot of my creative energy has been going towards that.

Trying to balance both is a really tricky line to walk, and I just can’t do it right now. I’m struggling enough with class as it is, so content creation has fallen to the wayside, and I feel really shitty about that, especially since it’s something I enjoy.

I also felt like I always had to be “on”/accessible for this blog. (This is a personal problem that stems from growing up in a very service based culture, and one I’m working on, but it required time away and better boundaries on my part.)

6. Increased sense of alienation from the fandom at large.

This is kind of linked to 5.

Being able to keep anon on is really important to me, I know I personally don’t always feel comfortable sending asks to people off anon (I’ve joked before that even with users I’m genuinely friends with, I send asks on anon bc I don’t want them to feel like I’m waiting on an answer).

I only answer about a quarter of the asks I receive (I won’t say a quarter of the asks people send me given tumblr’s tendency to eat asks). About a third of the asks are: asking me when a fic of mine will be updated/a wip will be posted, accusing me of something, flat out rude/hateful, or asking really invasive personal questions.

I’ve gotten a few asking me to elaborate on specific traumas that I don’t think I’ve even mentioned on this blog, which is both violating and extremely entitled: as if someone else gets to decide if my trauma is legitimate enough or something.

There are also the asks that I either don’t have the energy to give the love they deserve and avoid because I feel guilty about that, or just flat out I don’t want to answer.

But deciding not to answer the asks sent in good faith makes me feel incredibly guilty and ashamed. This, again, is a personal problem, and one I’m working on.

I also feel my hyperfixation on opm beginning to fade.

But generally, I just feel less connected to the fandom. It’s mostly because my lack of spoons means I’m not reaching out to people as much, but there are other factors too. It sounds dramatic, but I’m still a little shaken by the spat I had with another opm blog a couple of months ago.

And generally? I don’t think the fandom is as active anymore anyways. Some small, self-absorbed part of me still blames myself for some of that, because the timing of the fandom dying down and fracturing came right after the dispute I mentioned.

7. I really want this account to stay associated with happy things, and I’m not feeling too happy right now.

This blog was one I made because I enjoyed opm and wanted to have fun with it. I still love opm, and I love some of the friends I’ve made on here, but I just. I don’t feel the love for the fandom as a whole right now, and given all the negative emotions/things I just laid out, I’m worried about it somehow rubbing off on this blog, both for me, and for the people who follow me.

---

So yeah, that’s what’s going on on my end. I’m trying to stay positive and take care of myself, but I’m beyond overwhelmed, both for reasons related to, and entirely unrelated to this blog.

I want this blog to feel positive, and I worry this feels like I’m fishing for pity. That’s not it. I just need to get it off my chest, and kind of lay out where I am for you all, because I care about you.

Anyways, that’s all I got. I don’t know if I’ll delete this for now, but for the time it’s up, I’ll have it pinned to my blog.

Love you all, and be gentle with yourself.

#personal #anyways. now that I have that all out. time to pass out dshlkasdjh

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teflonsos · 4 years

Photo

⌠ MIGUEL HERRAN, 21, CISMALE, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, RICARDO ‘RICKY’ ALONSO! according to their records, they’re a FIRST year, specializing in DRIVER’S ED; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (5 a.m. cigarettes after a sleepless night, the smell of burning rubber after driving so fast you break the sound barrier, cheap vodka in an expensive shotglass, scraped knees and elbows from reckless parkour). when it’s the (scorpio)’s birthday on 11/04/98, they always request their CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ kati, 23, est, she/her ⍀ @gallagherintro

STATS / PINTEREST / CONNECTIONS / CLASSES

INSPIRATION.

fernando alonso – formula 1

james hunt – formula 1

jp – redline

peter quill – guardians of the galaxy

emmett cullen – twilight

mercutio – romeo & juliet

han solo – star wars

charlie pace – lost

vert wheeler – acceleracers

BACKGROUND + CLICK FOR FULL BIO.

when ricky is born, there are expectations as the firstborn male but they are expectations that ricky refuses to meet. he’s stubborn, insolent, and straight up annoying. his dad is mysteriously never around and his mother suffers from chronic illness, so he generally has free range of the house and...free range to harass and drive out nanny after nanny

his younger sister is the balancing force in his life, proper in all the ways that he’s a mess and polite in all the ways that he’s uncouth. however, they get along really well and she’s his best friend in an otherwise large, empty house.

as he gets older, his father’s comings and goings are more noticeable to ricky and he realizes that he doesn’t really understand what his dad’s job actually is? and his father won’t answer his questions about it either. one night, when ricky is about ten years old, he sneaks downstairs to find his father covered in blood. at first he screams until he realizes, that’s not his father’s blood – it’s someone else’s.

put the pieces together, his dad is a blackthorne alumn, assassin, and...brotherhood member.

ricky doesn’t really get the chance to be close with his parents, but he is super close with his grandfather. his grandfather is a big man with a full laugh who used to race formula one like, back in the sixties. he’s a big name, and ricky wants to be like him, and his grandfather is the one that gets ricky really into the sport. racing.

ricky starts off by racing t cars, and when he’s fourteen and sneaking out to the track with his sister, things go awry. they’re stopped and kidnapped by brotherhood members. from conversations by the kidnappers, he can surmise that his father has something to upset the brotherhood and the kidnapping is a move to keep his father in his place. ricky have to listen to his father tell the kidnappers he doesn’t give a fuck about him (likely a bluff, but still stings) over the phone.

ricky’s father’s move doesn’t work, and he doesn’t get to them in time. ricky has to beg on the phone for his life. a gunshot rings out. everything else is a blur.

ricky wakes up the next day with a million questions, but there’s one answer: his sister will never walk again. a gunshot has left her without the use of her legs, but otherwise she’ll make a full recovery. she encourages ricky to continue his racing and tells him how much she believes in him.

he takes home trophies year after year while t car racing and people start to learn ricky’s name, to see him as an up and comer as they associate him with his grandfather. the next four years are hard work, but he’s healing from trauma with a new passion and a great support system.

ate age 19, he’s on the podium after his third formula three race, and he wins the championship, raining champagne on his teammates and laughing. his nights are busy, filled with parties and clubs, pretty girls and people willing to give him whatever he wants.

he awaits the next season and the rise into formula two, but he’s getting ahead of himself. late nights spent partying before the race take their toll on him, and his sister says it best. “you shouldn’t go out there,” she says. “i have to go out there. it’s fine, i’m just a little hungover. besides, it’s raining today. i have the advantage.” but he never learns.

ricky crashes hard, lucky to get off with a tbi and some broken ribs, but the drugs in his system render him a pariah and no one will really want to sponsor him after that. everyone had high hopes for him, but now he just looks like another stupid kid. he’ll never forget the disappointment in his grandfather’s eyes.

he spends most of the year blowing previous winnings.

after all of that bullshit, his grandfather sits him down. “you’re going to apply to gallagher academy,” he says. and that’s when he tells ricky everything, about his father’s profession, just like his grandfather’s brother and father before him. the legacy, the brotherhood, blackthorne academy, and ricky’s both riveted and horrified. “that’s what my sister got shot for?”

ricky passes the test while the brotherhood still has its claws clenched tightly around the reigns of gallagher academy somewhere. he’s a good driver, the fastest, and he might’ve been the best if he wasn’t so irrational and drunk on his own pride (among other things.)

before he can gain the skills to stop his father himself, someone else does. the news comes on ricky’s very first day of school: “dad’s been arrested.” and it’s like his whole world stops, because he always knew his father was bad, just someone else got to him first.

PERSONALITY.

ADVENTUROUS: ricky is not afraid of risks, and actually, this is usually in a good way. he pushes himself to want and pursue fulfilling life experiences, so while he’s made stupid decisions, he never lets fear stop him from taking chances and trying new things, so he’s pretty open-minded

CHARISMATIC: pretty good at putting on a smile and making himself likable when he needs to be, he has a nice smile and a good-natured spirit even if he can be a bit MUCH at times ! the kind of asshole that you can’t help but like anyway, he means well

FLEXIBLE: one of his great strengths is his ability to go with the flow, it doesn’t change him around or turn him inside out when things don’t go his way, he’s pretty adaptable and able to adjust when there’s a wrench in his plans

SELF-DESTRUCTIVE: ricky has a habit of ruining things when they’re going good for him, he’s notorious for self-sabotage and it probably comes from a mix of feeling like he’s invincible so he pushes limits and because he’s almost comfortable in the label of fuck-up at this point, not wanting to get his hopes up too high

ENTITLED: whether he likes it or not, he comes from a good family and a past where most things have just been handed to him. so, while he’s worked hard, he’s never had to work...that hard. he feels entitled to success and certain things in life and he can be a bit of a dick about it, even out of touch with other ways of life. he tends to feel like he deserves things, such as his gallagher education or another chance at racing

SELF-CENTERED: apart from his sister, ricky very much puts himself first and can be a bit selfish. it’s mostly out of self-preservation, but most of his thoughts revolve around him. he actually puts a lot of pressure on himself, which is why he turns to unhealthy coping mechanisms and doesn’t look at how his actions affect others in his life

HEADCANONS.

when it comes to his memory loss, it’s pretty manageable. he keeps up with medication and IF he gets a good night sleep/eats well...it’s good on his brain. but sometimes he’s not so great about it! his most common habits are: putting something down and forgetting where he just put it, asking you a question he’s already asked, and he’s bad with names

used to be good at fighting games but now he isn’t and he still tries and it’s sad :(

as you can guess, he’s really bad at card games but he likes to gamble so he’ll just bet on other stuff. always ready to put money on the results of a sports game or something, loves to do fantasy brackets

really likes anime movies! watches a lot, but his faves are obviously redline, akira, princess mononoke, perfect blue, and ghost in the shell. he watches anime too and tbh probably a lot of anime i’ve never seen like naruto, one piece, and cowboy bebop. for my sanity please don’t talk to much about them with him bc i won’t know what to write.

loves to skateboard and snowboard, and is pretty good at it because really the main thing is confidence and he has plenty of that!

loves to play pranks in class or on people, he’s got a whole repertoire of tricks he used to play on his nannies growing up and has no issue with playing them on a teacher with a stick up their ass

his primary coping mechanisms are 1) hating his father 2) cocaine and 3) acting stupid

is bisexual and honestly doesn’t give a fuck! guys, girls, whatever, sex is sex and he’s gonna like who he likes. has never come out to his parents but has never known them well enough for it to matter.

had a steady long term girlfriend but she broke up with him when he started to tank his future and started partying more, probably as self-preservation for herself and ricky feels guilty about how he treated her, doesn’t want to put anyone else through that

really likes german cars so it’s a bummer that he missed out on the berlin trip, he’s going to geek out and cry any time someone mentions berlin to him, he’ll be so jealous of their semester

has wicked good eyesight, 20/20 vision which is great on the track but he also has really good aim on a shooting range, he’s a pretty observant person as well

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

BROTHERHOOD CONNECTIONS. Someone who also had someone close to them (likely a family member) that was also arrested for being involved with the Brotherhood by the strike team. Both Ricky and your muse are dealing with the shock of this together.

FAN? SOMEONE WHO FOLLOWS RACING? Someone who watched Ricky’s rise and fall from grace by being invested in F1. It would make sense if they were a big fan of Ricky’s grandfather...and Ricky is the disappointment. Idk someone with predisposed opinions on Ricky.

PARTNER IN CRIME. The two of them just vibe like immediately they both have the same chaotic energy and encourage each other’s recklessness to take chances and do stupid shit, are probably hilarious and can’t take anything seriously when they’re in the same room together, the kind of friends that other people can’t stand to see them together.

WHOLESOME FWB. They get along really well as friends and mainly just need to scratch an itch sometimes. None of that toxic shit, they probably lay around and talk about their crushes and are actually friends.

CONFIDANT. Late night rooftop conversations, this person can get Ricky to open up, is probably someone who is really chatty and comfortable with their own emotions and they encourage Ricky to be open about his.

INFATUATION. Ricky doesn’t know your muse at all, just sees them in the hallway and thinks they’re super hot, probably an older and unattainable student that wouldn’t give him a second glance but he’s like...this is my future spouse. They just don’t know I exist. Has never talked to them and they might not even vibe if they ever spoke lol.

ENEMIES? They simply don’t! Get along? Hate at first sight? They see Ricky smoking a blunt on campus and think he’s stupid irresponsible? He doesn’t remember their name when he should have? He makes a stupid immature comment that rubs your muse the wrong way? Any of the above, ready to fight at any moment.

RACING BUDDIES. Another driver’s ed student who is willing to race with him after hours or practice together, they both wanna fuck the cars, they both are super competitive and bring that out in each other.

OLD FAMILY FRIENDS. Their parents knew one another, likely on his dad’s (Blackthorne/spy) side, and they grew up closely. After the kidnapping happened, your character’s parent stopped speaking to the Alonsos and distanced themselves. Your character is probably the only one who knows about that part of Ricky’s past in any detail.

GOT OFF ON THE WRONG FOOT. Ricky tried to flirt with your character but actually wound up pissing them off by seeming like an entitled white boy, which he is. He’s trying to prove to your character that he’s not so bad! This connection has nothing to do with feet I just had no better ideas for a name I hate feet.

REALLY BAD SEX. your muse has ricky saved in their phone like [link]...prob a hookup that happens on one of the first days after he heard about his dad but...he’s fucked up and sad and he can’t get it up! It’s literally so embarrassing, maybe they’re both embarrassed, he wants to die when he sees ur muse around bc they saw his limp ass sad boy dick.

CAT AND MOUSE TYPE THING. essentially ricky has a bunch of attempts to flirt with your muse & your muse fucking hates it. Tom and jerry but like, if tom wanted to fuck jerry. I think of this gifset.

#gallagher:intro

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