#and despite all my weeks of making posts about how hard it is to get myself to write
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I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently
#facebook always does that 'here's a post from this day 8 years ago' thing. and I see old comments interacting#with people and it's so like.. OOOOO~~ where are they now?? what's going on? how much have they changed as people?#how much are they the same? this is fascinating. i should contact them!!' but then it's like... take that to it's logical conclusion though#you would contact them and then IF they even responded it would take you 80 years to respond and then they would#think there was something wrong or that you were trying to be insulting or something. To contact anyone I need to include an 85 page#disclaimer of all of my social issues & mental illness things. 'If i take 3 weeks to reply I promise it has nothing to do with u' etc lol#THIS is why more people need to be into phone calls/voice calls/some form of audio real time communication/etc.#I think one of the main things that's hard about messaging through text for me is it's so unscheduled and open ended#(plus it takes forever if you're talking about anything in detail and gets very long very quickly)#because like you can send a message and then just get a reply whenever. and then you're expected to reply back whenever#so it's like you never know when the response will come or when a new obligation to reply can come up? so it's like this sudden thing with#no outline?? if that makes sense. whereas a phone call is very like 'hello let's schedule a call from 10am - 2pm on thursday'. And you know#EXACTLY when the interaction will start and EXACTLY when it will end and you can plan around it in your schedule easily.#I have the reverse thing of a lot of people (how people don't pick up phone calls/hate calls/only text)#I would literally talk on the phone with a stranger. I would have a discord voice chat with someone I barely know.#if someone I hardly even remember from elementary school asked to have a voice call with me out of nowhere I would do it.#but if a stranger MESSAGED me?? or someone I barely know sent me a TEXT or something?? I will never reply probably#It's just too vague and weird. and you can't read voice tone over text. and the interaction could last forever with no clear end#point and etc. etc. But a call is like. set. established. clear boundaries. you can read the flow of conversation better. rapport. etc. etc#I get that I guess people feel more anonymous or distanced over text?? but you can have fake phone numbers on the computer. or do like disc#rd calls. or zoom without a camera or etc. etc. Also the distance that's present in text is BAD distance because it just means that tone is#not conveyed properly and you will never truly get a sense of the person's conversational vibe or mannerisms or how well you really click.#ANYWAY ghgjh...... I'm so so so interested in concepts of like.. How did that one kid I used to talk to in elementary school#but then they moved away in 5th grade - how did they end up? what are they doing now?? etc. etc. Like despite the severe social anhedonia#and general lack of connection with others I'm just really fascinated in like.. idk. the human development of it all and like#the concept of how we're actually a million different people through the course of our lives ever evolving in different iterations and etc.#PLUS again. i love nostalgia. sometimes old peple you know might remember a shared memory or can tell you about something you forgot#or etc. like it's SUCH A COOL THING in CONCEPT but I am too socially inept generally speaking lol. which people I still talk to today are#familiar with my 'phone call once every few months' communication style. but strangers would just be like... wtf. And I don't blame them#Sure I literally cannot change the physical health + brain issues i have - but also I know enough to not put others through that lol
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Annnnnnnnnnnnd I'm done! Met my self-imposed writing deadline with only 1/4 of the day left, phew.
Not 100% satisfied with the end, but there IS an end, and now I can agonize over editing.
Trying to decide if I achieved my goal of avoiding my dangerous habit of... shall we say, "soft boi-ifying" characters yes i know i complained about cinnamon rolling in the past, but this is a different issue, or if in my conscious effort to do so I ended up going too far in the opposite direction. Gonna mull it over a bit about one part in particular.
But by and large, the first big piece to resolving my writing issues puzzle is in place, aww yeah.
#other things i learned:#1) my worst weakness may be that i still am struggling with describing actions and any sense of place#2) the english language has a sore lack of words for smiling or laughing that don't sound too goofy#3) i like certain words or phrases way too much and use them without realizing it and have to stop myself sometimes lol#have to say that it's kind of freeing to like a ship that few people care about#feels like i can do whatever i want because who cares lol#not that it matters what anyone else thinks anyway as long as i had fun doing it#and despite all my weeks of making posts about how hard it is to get myself to write#i DID have fun writing it and i hope i can get myself to start a new project soon#h.text
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a/n: ty guys so much for all the love on my last post, i absolutely wasnât expecting it. probably gonna write something about joel miller in the next few days. if you have requests, send away, ly!
simon riley who gets a new neighbour that wonât keep her fucking blinds closed.Â
he'd seen the moving truck, a pretty bird thanking the movers and hadnât thought much of it; he wasnât one to make conversation with his neighbors, so he minded his own business.Â
or at least he tried, but it was real fucking difficult when he could see through your windows at any god given moment.
at the beginning it wasnât even intentional, he actually found himself getting annoyed at how exposed you were. did you have no fucking self preservation sense, letting anyone and everyone look into your house? christ, people these days.
but then the fascination creeped in and he couldnât help but let his eyes travel to you. watching as you sat on the couch on your phone, watching tv, reading, whatever.Â
he observed as you came home from work, talking on your phone way too loudly for his liking, or laughing like the girls he always found insufferable in school when your friends came over.Â
after only a few weeks he put a name, and every other thing there was to know, to the pretty face. not like it was hard: you had your name on your mailbox, public social media profiles, and readily available professional and academic information on the first page of his google search.
simon knew it was weird, that he should stop watching, maybe mention your lack of blinds to you, but he couldnât. not when he saw you undressing in a way that felt like you knew he was watching, like you were doing this on purpose, teasing him.Â
he tried telling himself that this was a bloody mid-life crisis, that he was too bored after retiring and needed to pull his shit together, but it did little to quell his growing enchantment.Â
so when he saw you struggling with your ground floor window, a rusted old thing heâd noticed quite a while ago, he exited his home withe the excuse of collecting his mail despite his mailbox being empty and shot a casual, gruff âeverything all right?â
you were polite, sweet, assured him it was nothing, just the old house acting up, but he insisted.Â
he pulled at the old wooden frame with big, calloused hands, your gaze inevitably slipping to his strong, ink covered bicep, the muscle flexing as the window finally budged.
he noticed your look, of course he did, and couldnât suppress a tiny smirk as he stepped back, âthere you go, loveâ.
you thanked him profusely, then introduced yourself, obtaining his name right back, and offered him a cup of tea, but simon wanted to take his time. he had to think with his head, not his cock, and make sure you were the right one before getting himself too invested.
so, despite every bone in his body wanting to do the opposite, he refused âmaybe some other timeâ
âIâm holding you to that, simonâ you smiled and the sound of his name dripping from your lips like the sweetest of honies almost made his knees buckle.Â
after your interaction simon got more diligent, looking for anything wrong with you, anything to turn him away, to put a stop to this; but he couldnât.
every bit of information he attained made him fall deeper, fed his growing love for you, validated the idea he had created in his head. you were bloody perfect for him.
so he did take you up on your offer of tea and biscuits, and showed up at your doorstep. Â
the sight of you greeting him with a soft smile and wearing a pretty sundress almost had him throwing his self control out the window and just telling you how you were made to be his. but he resisted.
he was a little awkward, but in a strangely endearing way. he made you laugh (god, he would die a happy man if your laughter was the last thing he heard), and was respectful, polite.Â
and obviously you found him attractive, you werenât being exactly subtle: simon knew he wasnât that funny and that there was absolutely no need for you to grab his arm as you giggled.Â
simon held onto every touch, every laugh, every time his name left your mouth like a man starved, his chest warming at the realization that he might have a chance, that you might love him back if he made an effort.
and sure, he mightâve placed a tiny listening device under your coffee table while you made a second kettle of tea, but that was just because he wanted to understand you better. to know how to please you, how to make you happy.
the ego boost he go from it a few days later as he listened in on your phone call was just a bonus. he couldnât help the smile that decorated his face as you ranted to you friend, âheâs, like, unbelievably hot, build like a fucking tank. and sweet too! i know fucking your neighbour isnât a good idea but christâ.
so you could imagine his surprise when he saw you come out of a car that wasnât yours, an arm that wasnât his around your waist. when the wanker kissed you at your doorstep, practically eating your face off, his fists clenched, blunt nails leaving bloody crescent moons on his palm.
who the fuck was that bloke? what the fuck were you doing? didnât you like him? hadnât you said that-
simon took a deep breath. he needed to calm down.Â
this wasnât your fault, of course it wasnât. you didnât know how he felt, he hadnât told you yet, how were you supposed to know?
you were his sweet, little bird, youâd never do anything to purposely hurt him. you werenât like that.
so any ounce of anger towards you disappeared as soon as it appeared. that man, though?
the entire night, simon seethed. heâd closed his curtains but the image of him around you was burned on the front of his brain and he fantasised. fantasised about being the one driving you home, kissing you, pulling you upstairs, tasting you, burying himself into you as you screamed out his name. fantasised about crushing that manâs skull, cutting him up limb by limb, making him eat his own tongue, teaching him to keep it in his mouth instead of letting it slip into yours.
but simon wasnât one to just steep in his fury, he did something about it.Â
so in the morning, as soon as he saw you and the asshole go downstairs, he turned the volume up on the laptop hooked to the listening device as he got dressed.
the guy offered to make you breakfast, and simonâs eyes damn near fell from his skull at how fast they rolled.
âthatâsâŠnice, but I have to go to work, michealâ your voice came out static-y from the old computer, but the annoyance in it was unmistakable. simon knew you didnât work on saturdays and it made him grin: you didnât even like the bloke, you just needed a shag. and while simon didnât exactly approve the way about which you went about it (i mean, he was literally across the street, love), he could understand that.
had you thought of him while he fucked you? had you imagined his strong arms around you? his cleft lip against your plush ones?
simon realised something good had come out of your little hook up: it had given him a courage of sorts. you were his, not this manâs who he was sure hadnât fucked you right, who certainly didnât love you as much as he did, and who wasnât even enjoyable enough to keep around for breakfast.
so that same afternoon, he knocked on your door, had another cuppa and finally asked you on a date, being met with the brightest smile youâd given him as of yet, and making you promptly forget about micheal.
which was good because simon really didnât want you knowing about how micheal hadnât shown up to work the next day and the police had found his car abandoned, specs of blood on the seat.
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x you#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#cod#call of duty#cod mw2#ghost call of duty#simon riley#cod fic#cod fanfic#cod x reader
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âź sylus x wife!reader
contents: fluff, suggestive. arranged marriage au. hints of slow burn. you like playing hard to get and he loves calling you his wife. 1.4k wc.
ê° note á° I had to deposit my messy thoughts somewhere and this headcanon post was the result.
part two here. ê±
â Arranged marriage with Sylus where he prefers to call it a âstrategic partnershipâ as a means of appearances to flaunt that he has it allâan empire, riches, strength, influence and now a darling wife who waits for him at home. Youâre not so much as a random choice, Sylus had been watching you from afar for a while and in exchange for his protection in the N109 zone he strikes a deal with you to play a simple role. You have every reason to be wary of him and know to keep your wits about yourself, but even you acknowledge that your chances are better with him. Though, if you asked him how he was so certain youâd agree to his proposal heâd admit that he wasnât but he knew youâd consider it if he had an advantage over you.
â He sets his terms and conditionsâyou reside in his humble abode, wedding ring always worn on your finger, and attend events with him as a pretty accessory on his arm to contribute to his image. But heâll never admit that he actually enjoys your company at business functions that often feel dull to him. You are more than welcome to spend your days as you please so long you donât cause him trouble, and that also means you have his black card privileges to spoil yourself rotten. Of course, he accommodates most requests you may have like sleeping in separate rooms if thatâs what you wish (and redecorating because his furnishing decisions are quite bleak).
â Luke and Kieran can sense that their boss feels something for you despite his nonchalance toward this little arrangement. It starts off small, it always doesâSylus takes note of your morning and night routine, your picky eating habits and has the chef make adjustments to your preference, how he sees you out in the gardens and come back with spring tulips to brighten the space and the next week he already replaced the slowly withering flowers with fresh ones. The twins whisper among themselves that heâs often less annoyed and irritated when youâre around, and their boss wouldnât go through the trouble of being considerate unless he cares for you. Itâs almost exciting for them both to witness a budding romance unfold before their very eyes and they do offer a helping hand here and there to keep things interesting.
â Sylus thinks itâs adorable how you keep trying to resist him and thatâs precisely the reason he loves seeking you out just to watch your resolve crumble under his touch. He finds you in the kitchen preparing a snack and cages you from behind with his hands planted on either side of you against the counter. âHey kitten, I thought Iâd find you in here.â You feel his hot breath down your neck as he pushes your hair aside just enough to lay a soft kiss on your shoulder. He chuckles when you comment that heâs being awfully touchy with you, and he purposely moves closer so that his chest is pressing against your back. âPerhaps I just canât keep my hands to myself where youâre involved. Besides, youâre my wife now. I think I have the right to touch you whenever I like.â
â You remind him that youâre his wife in title only, but that doesnât discourage his flirtation and teasing as he allows you to nudge past him. He follows you into the common area and takes a seat on the couch, spreading his legs wide and taking up a lot of space. His gaze is settled on you as he pats his thigh and his lips curl into a smirk. âCome here, wife.â You naturally scoff meanwhile you place the plate of seasonal fruits on the side table and situate yourself closest to the armrest, taking a bite into a juicy red strawberry as you ignore his piercing stare.
â For someone who always gets what he wants, Sylus isnât used to being defied like this. And had it been anyone else his patience would wear dangerously thin, but he supposes that youâre a special exception because he seems to enjoy the chase and claiming its reward. With one small gesture, he drags you across the couch by a gravitational pull and you squeal when the swirling red easily turn and maneuver you so youâre forced to straddle him and your hands prop on his shoulders for support. âThere, much better. Comfy? This is the best seat in the house.â His gaze locks with yours, and he thinks you huffing and frowning at him is simply cute. He firmly grabs your wrist with the bitten strawberry in your hand and lifts it to his mouth for a sweet taste.
â âNo fair⊠using your Evol against me like this.â You grumble under your breath as you gently trail your thumb from his chin to the corner of his mouth where the strawberry juices began to spill. Then an impulsive thought takes over and you pinch his cheek between your fingers, creating a sticky mess on his face. âI hope youâre enjoying yourself. Thatâs for treating me like a sack of potatoes.â He chuckles once more, his hand falling on your hip and he gives you a light squeeze. âOh, I do have every intention of fully enjoying my wife tonight.â And by that, he means taking you out for a joyride on his motorbike and feeling your arms wrapped around him tightly as the engine roars through the streets under the night sky and sinking moon. Sylus would never engage in any intimate acts you werenât ready for, but he loves seeing you fluster at his suggestive remarks.
â As the weeks cross over into months, you never imagined that youâd be spending so much time with Sylus outside of your agreed terms. Heâs everywhere in every waking moment of your life even when heâs not there physically. Youâre learning new things about him each day and you (begrudgingly) like being around himâeven when he can sometimes be a playful bully toward you. When heâs gone for long stretches of time to deal with negotiations and other important matters in the N109 zone, you can feel your heart yearning for him but youâd never say that you miss him out loud when you think he's still toying with you. But with the way he cares for you like youâre both in a real and genuine relationship, itâs hard to know his true intentions and keep your feelings buried deep inside your chest for long.
â You accidentally confirm that Sylus does harbor romantic feelings for you when you carelessly bring up your replacement in a lighthearted joke. Youâve never seen his face falter so quickly at your words as he averts his gaze for a moment to collect himselfâa hint of vulnerability in his crimson hues. âI wouldnât have found a new wife.â He shakes his head and tells you, his voice a little rougher than before. You donât know what to say, but you manage a soft âNo?â that reaches his ears. âNo. I wouldnât have been able to replace you, kitten. Youâre it for me. The only one. No one could fill the void youâd leave behind.â
â You and Sylus have kissed before, but this is the first time youâre initiating it. As you brush your lips against his, thereâs a softness you never noticed. His hand slips around the small of your back and he pulls you close against him, returning your kiss with the same tenderness as though savoring the taste of you. You lean back after a moment, your palm meeting his cheek in a sweet embrace. âYou know, I'm still getting used to the idea that Iâve fallen for you.â You can see him returning back to normal when he offers you a cocky smirk. âAnd yet here you are. In my arms, with your lips on mine. I think youâre not being entirely honest, my beautiful wife.â Sylus has waited a long time to hear those words from you but you donât need to know that right now.
#ášł âË đđ„đšđźđđ°đąđŹđ©.đ°đ«đąđđđŹ#sylus#sylus x reader#l&ds x reader#love and deepspace x reader#sylus love and deepspace#lnds sylus#sylus lnd#sylus l&ds#lads sylus#l&ds sylus#love and deepspace
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Batfam and Danny, part 1
Jason was at first hesitant about the floating white-haired green-eyed child that offered to be his sidekick. Evermore so when the kid told him that he knew that Jason had been dead. He explained that he could tell because he himself was half-ghost. Despite his hesitations he decided to take the kid on for a trial period.
The kid proved to be skilled, and knew how to deal with the many criminals that made business in Gotham. Over the last month he found himself growing closer to the boy, and upon learning that his parents tried to kill him for his half-ghostly nature, he decided to take a page from his old man's book and "legally" adopt the kid, this black-haired blue-eyed kid, his new son, Danny.
Now came the hard part, introducing him to his family. He had sent Alfred a message saying that he would make an appearance for the weekly family dinner with an additional guest. The following day they arrived at the manor. As they walked into the dinning room the rest of the family were already seated, he and Danny made their way to their seats.
Alfred: Master Jason, thank you for joining us tonight.
Jason: Of course Alfred. Jason looked at Danny and stood. Everyone I would like you all to meet Daniel, he goes by Danny. He's my new sidekick... and of a week ago my adopted son.
The rest of the family stopped eating and looked at Jason.
Bruce: You... adopted?
Damian: I'm rather surprised, I would have expected Richard to be the first on of us to adopt a child, he is the most like father. Nevertheless I shall take my new responsibilities as an uncle with great humility.
Dick: Damn, Damian what did I ever do to you? How am I the most like dad?
Bruce: What's wrong with being like me- No, where getting off point. Jason you adopted?
Jason: I did.
Bruce: I- hi Danny, welcome to the family.
Danny: Hi grandpa!
Snickering could be heard across the table.
Bruce: Hi kiddo, so how you two meet?
Danny: I followed him home and in through the window. I became his sidekick, then his son, and now we're here.
Jason: Danny is a meta, an experiment gone wrong caused him to become half-ghost, it's a little complicated, but he has some neat powers.
Tim: What happened to your parents?
Danny: They tried to kill me because of my powers.
Cass (signing): We know our next targets then.
Bruce: Cass no. Jason how did you even adopt Danny?
Jason: I stole one of the pre-notarized adoption papers you keep in your desk.
Bruce: Ahh. Well I'll still ask Barbara to make that 100% official.
Stephany: Don't worry Danny at one point or another all our adopts legally were questionable at best.
Danny: Ok.
Bruce: Well it's good to have you here with us Danny. You two are welcomed to spend the night and join us for training in the morning?
Jason (looking at Danny, who was looking at him): Sure.
Alfred: Splendid, now let's eat, supper is getting cold. And I don't want Master Daniel's first dinner as part of the family to a less than perfect.
They all started eating.
Danny: Oh, I'm also the Supreme King of the Infinite Realms, High King of the Ghost Zone, and King of all Ghosts.
Jason: I knew I was forgetting something.
Danny and Jason went back to eating as the rest of the family looked at them bewildered.
(Master Post)
#dp x dc crossover#dc x dp crossover#dp x dc#dc x dp#jason todd#red hood#danny fenton#danny phantom#ghost king danny#ghost king phantom#alfred pennyworth#bruce wayne#batman#damian wayne#robin#dick grayson#nightwing#tim drake#red robin#cassandra cain#orphan#barbara gordon#oracle#stephenie brown#spoiler
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serendipity
(n.) the occurrence and development of events by chance, in a happy or beneficial way.
â” pairing: saiki kusuo / immune! reader
â” word count: 16k
â” genre: of first meetings and crack
â” warnings: none
â” summary: s1 ep 1 & 2. on your first day at pk academy, you witness saiki use pyrokinesis. from that moment forward, you become hell-bent on avoiding him at all costs. itâs easier said than done, especially after you find yourself unintentionally foiling chiyo yumeharaâs plans to get close to him.
┠masterlist  (requests are open)
horrorhot-line © 2020. all rights reserved



before you read:
âsaiki telepathically communicating with reader.â
âreader thinking or interacting with saiki through thoughts.â
âsaiki talking without moving his mouth.â
âsaiki talking using his mouth.â
if you use the above format of speech in your fanfic, please credit as I was the first to come with it, thank you <3
author's notes: this post is a rewrite from my friends to lovers series that I first posted back in 2020, the relaunch you've been waiting for is finally here! it's still pretty much the same with a few changes here and there, hope you all enjoy <3
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
â” â” â” â” â” â” Â Â Â â” â” â” â” â” â”
Ever since you could remember, the way the world worked didn't make sense. Your fragile child brain, not yet fully developed, was incapable of understanding that the very universe was shifting before you, at the hands of certain psychic no less.
You were 4 when you realised that other's wounds would go away quickly. Scrapes, bumps, cuts, you name it, they would heal almost instantaneously. You didn't possess such an ability, it seemed. All the doctors were curious as to why you would come to the hospital with bruises and wounds since it was unusual that, unlike everyone else, your injuries wouldn't heal after a day. Looking at the MRIs and Ex-rays on the desk as the adults talked, you pondered the same thing.
You chalked it up to you being weaker than others, despite the lingering at the back of your mind that something was terribly wrong. Then again, it was better to stay quiet than address the questions from said adults, questions you didnât yet have concrete answers to.
You were 5 when you started sprouting neon green hair at the roots, until a few weeks laterâ the tone began returning to its natural colour. You grew out the ugly patch of lime until you could chop it off. The worst of it was the fact that no one said anything about changing hair colour practically overnight. It didn't sit right with you. Out of all the classmates in your elementary school, you were the only one with what others considered as abnormal coloured hairâ and to top it off, you were sure you were the normal one.
That wasn't all that seemed to be amiss. Individuals could knock others unconscious with just a chop to the neck, clothes could be ripped off while the crotch remained covered, and tiny people could be incredibly strong. None of these applied to you; you couldn't do any of itâ the reason still a mystery.Â
Despite being so young, how was it possible for you to notice these things? Well, it was as simple asâ every time it felt like a new phenomenon would occur, a splitting headache would hit you. As a child, your body was unable to handle the strain of whatever was happening with the world, and you would develop a fever as a result. It would leave you bedridden for a week, but as you grew, you found it became easier to handle.
You would have ignored all the weird things happening around youâ wouldn't have found it hard not to pay any attention to the unusual phenomena. However, as you aged, it became harder to brush under the rug.
You lived life trying your best not to think of the strange occurrences until your 2nd year of high school. A week before you were about to start afresh as a 3rd year, your family asked if you were excited for your second year at school. You hadn't thought much of it, assuming that they had gotten confused. You didn't bother correcting them and continued with your life as usual.Â
That was until you resumed classes, only to discover that you were still in your second year of high school.Â
You would have disputed it with the teachers because you were sure you passed the year with flying colours, but you weren't the only one. Your entire class, noâ the whole year group itself, were repeating their year again. Not to mention, there were no new first years. That was when you decided things weren't okay. The world was shifting, bending in impossible ways, defying the laws of nature itself, and you were the only one who noticed.
What was more unfortunate was the fact that you couldn't tell anyone. Couldn't breathe a word of your troubles to your friends, fear of word getting around forcing your lips shut. Worst-case scenarioâ you would be ostracised by your classmates, effectively sentencing yourself to social death and becoming the school's pariah or sent to a mental institute. No one saw the change or acknowledged the differenceâ you were alone in your findings, so you kept quiet.
Then, answers came to you in the summer holidays after the repeat of your first year, in the form of an old lady at a stall offering tarot card readings. Personally, you didn't believe in the supernatural or magicians and the like. Still, she was persistent, a true salesman at heart, so to speak. Convinced that you were getting scammed, you tried to refuse, but she had already pulled you into the chair behind her stall.
That was how you found out you were immune when it came to the supernatural. The old lady ignored your protests of how you had no money and tried to see into your future, to reveal to you what lay ahead of you, only for her to tell you she couldn't.
After heavy silence and serious contemplation on her side, followed by a barrage of questionsâ she theorised that you were blocking her from using her abilities on you. The old woman called it 'natural immunity and the ability to nullify someone's powers'. You weren't impressed, but it did feel like her words held some truth as you caught sight of the bright yellow hair under her hood.
That was when you connected the dots since it explained why you were the only one who noticed the changes in the world. You were immune to the phenomenon going on around you. That caused you to wonder who on earth had been messing with the timeline and warping everyone's perception of the world. You werenât sure you were comfortable with knowing there was a human alive capable of that.
You had asked the old lady if someone could turn back time on a global scale since that seemed to be the only explanation for the year repeating itself. She had brushed it off, laughing at the thought. She had said that if it were possible, it would have to be someone with unimaginable power. The old woman was convinced no human on earth could possess the ability to pull a stunt like that off, muttering something about how 'everyone would have noticed'.
You had left the conversation at that, giving up on trying to make her understand. If you were being honest, you were more curious to learn about your own talents. The old lady was the one who taught you how to manually turn off your immunity when others used their powers on you. "Visualise a broken string between you and me. Then, try to will it to connect."
Closing your eyes, you followed the shady lady's instructions and found that it took an immense amount of your energy to do so. You ended up with a migraine but discovered that she could use her fortune-telling powers on you after the fact.
The old lady had been pleased with the results as she put her cards away, telling you she had just confirmed a sneaking suspicion she had about you. The two of you realised that you could, in fact, turn off your ability (if you could even call it that) when you put enough effort into it.
After your conversation with her, you felt like at least one of your questions had been answered somewhat, but you refused to pay up after she made grabby hands at you. You simply turned on your heels and left, telling her if she was that good at reading the future like she claimedâ she would have known you forgot your wallet at home. She had thrown a fit as you walked off, and you had felt bad somewhat, but it's not like you ever wanted the reading to begin with.
You wondered if you could stop your immunity to the weird phenomena around you; ignorance was bliss after allâ maybe then you wouldn't be burdened with the knowledge that someone was trying to play some sort of messed up game of chess with the timeline. Then againâ what was the point in pondering when you knew you weren't going to try and be the main character and solve the mystery? You'd read enough fanfic to know where that would lead. Major character death with spoilers across the tags; luckily, you had no interest in turning the genre into horror.
The time on earth turned back three times, or that's what you concluded. You weren't sure about the exact number because you stopped counting after the second time you repeated your year. Repeating the year meant that days blended into each other, and you stopped trying to keep track and make sense of it all.
After redoing the academic year three times in totalâ you assumed, you finally decided enough was enough. You couldn't handle spending another second in the same classroom, with the same people, the same teachers and the same lessons. It drove you insane, so you begged your family to let you transfer. Trying to convince them took a long time, but they finally gave in to your request.
A month before your second year, again, your family moved to a new neighbourhood. You were enrolled at PK Academy, which meant you would start the upcoming school year.
The downside? Free-mixing. The all-girls school was great since there was no dating drama, and mostly everyone in your year just put their head down to study. The horror stories you had heard so far of boys sneaking cameras into the girl's bathroom in other institutions made it hard to see the upside, considering the boys of today might end up being the perverts of tomorrow. Then again, you didn't have a choiceâ after all that begging, even if you changed your mind, your application form for your new school and dismissal from your old school meant you had to go.
You didn't mind that you had to commute to the school you currently went to before the holidays hit, satisfied that instead of staring up at the ceiling and still unintentionally wondering 'Who done it', you were worried about getting up in time in the morning.
You held onto the fuzzy feeling in your stomach,
seeâ even your gut was telling you this was one of your finer decisions, one you wouldn't come to regret.
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Finding your way to your new high school wasn't too hard when you had the curse and blessing that was your phone. When the direction on your maps changed for the 6th time, telling you to go back the way you cameâ you gave up, instead opting to tail a group of girls who wore the uniform that matched yours in hopes of not getting lost and finding potential shortcuts, deciding that they would know the way since they went to the same school.
You made it to PK Academy with little to no trouble, using your hands to smooth your shirt down and make yourself look more presentable before you stepped past the gate. Students walked into the school building, chatting amongst themselves. You followed suit, and you wouldn't deny the small skip to your step as excitement bubbled in your veins.
All was goodâ until it wasn't.
As soon as you stepped past the gate after successfully passing uniform inspection, which you gave yourself a mental pat on the back for, a wave of dizziness hit you, vision fuzzing as you caught sight of something pink out the corner of your eye. You felt nauseous, finding it hard to stay upright. You staggered, soon falling to your knees.
It was all going so well, too...
The rough granite coating the ground scraped your palms, but the searing pain you felt in your head stopped you from processing it. It was like someone had pressed a hot iron to your skull, like gravity was working against you to pin you to the groundâ or was gravity working rather too effectively? It didn't matter; now was not the time to be thinking about that!
You heard a teacher shout, the one in a gym tracksuit who had been at the front gates with a ruler in hand, making sure students weren't dressed like delinquents. Your vision swam as you tried to look up at the teacher who seemed to be talking to you. Ringing filled your ears, and you winced at the sound. What on earth was happening to you?
You were panting, finding it hard to hear what the teacher was asking of you. The red of his tracksuit hurt your eyes. "âdent! Can... âwalk?" Trying to understand what he was saying became increasingly difficult as you squinted your eyes at him.
You tried to focus on his voice, succeeding after putting in enough effort. "Student! Can you walk?!" You shook your head, noâ did it look like you could?! You clutched the strap of your school bag as tightly as you could to try and ground yourself.
You furrowed your eyebrows as another wave of nausea hit you, although not as strong as the last. You felt the need to spill the breakfast you had eaten that morning, all over the floor and maybe some on the teacher's pristine tracksuit. All you could think about was how to ease the pain. Would you have to wait it out, or would you pass out before then? You wanted to curl up on the floor, debating it for a hot minute as you started losing strength in your arm.
You didn't get the chance to, feeling the ground shift beneath you as you were picked up. In no time, you were rushed to what you assumed was the nurse's office. The teacher must have decided to escort you to a somewhat safer place, a gesture you probably should have thanked him for. The only problem wasâ the pain appeared to worsen the deeper you entered the school building. He should have left you outside.
"Wait here. I'll go find the nurse," The teacher who had escorted you, placed you down on a bed before fetching an ice pack from the freezer. Bold of him to assume you were in any condition to moveâ but it's not like you were about to say that out loud. "Take this for now." He put the ice pack against your forehead, his arm dropping back to his side when you brought your hand up to hold it.
With that, he took off down the hallway. You would have thanked the teacher for all his help if not for the daze you were in. At least the ringing in your ears had subsided. The headache, however, had become impossible to ignore. You were grateful for the ice pack; its cold helped dull the migraine somewhat.
Greatâ first day at your new school and you managed to mess it up. You were no doubt missing out on the entrance ceremonyâ the principal's speechâ fantastic! As if things couldn't get better! What had caused you to nearly faint, to begin with? The only time you had felt like this was when weird phenomena would occur, when the way the world worked changed, and you were the only one left to notice. Was there some sort of supernatural activity going on in this school that had caused such a severe reaction in you?
You decided you would try to figure it out later; you were in no shape to play Sherlock. First, you had to deal with the fatigue and nausea. For now, you'd have to focus on getting betterâ if your condition didn't improve, you'd go home. With a rough plan in mind, at least you had a bit of mental clarity.
Breathing through your nose, you turned to your side to ease the pain you were feeling. You hadn't realised until then that the curtain next to the bed you were on had been pulled, blocking the sight of the door that led to the room. You assumed the teacher had done that, probably to give you some privacy.
Exhaling deeply, you closed your eyes, trying to relax. That proved challenging to do when the peace was disrupted, not even seconds later. You heard a voice coming from afar and ignored it, trying your best to overcome the feeling of nausea that hit you again. Was your condition worsening?
"Huh, is the nurse dead too? That's weird... Guess I'll have to do mouth-to-mouth on you, myself." If you had been in your right mind, you would have laughed, but whoever was speaking just managed to add to your frustrations instead. You furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes still closed. Couldn't these strangers be more considerate so as to not disturb someone who was trying to rest?! Then again, they probably didn't know you were there, so you'd give them the benefit of the doubt.
Your eyes snapped open when you felt the bed shake. Your first thought was earthquake until you saw the curtain move as if someone was right next to it on the other side. If you had to guess, someone had probably slammed into it. You registered the sound of an audible grunt, assuming it was most likely from the stranger speaking before, though you couldn't be sure with the curtain still drawn. Had they fallen, or had someone pushed them?
The noise of water running filled the room. "I don't need mouth-to-mouth, you stupid idiot!" Whoever spoke started to gargle their mouth straight after. You clenched your jaw. Whoever these people were, they were aggravating your headacheâ and by extension, you "You're better? Well, that's nice to see." Why were they still talking?!
Some luck you hadâ maybe staying at the nurse's office wasn't a good idea after all. In that moment you wished you had just curled up near the school entrance until an ambulance came to your rescue. "Of course, I'm better! I was faking! Was it worth it, though? Since I got kissed by you!" Was this some backward BL you had been dragged into? You were sure youâd read enough fanfiction to know where this was going... If these people had nothing better to do, you wondered why they couldn't just leave.
You adjusted the ice pack on your head, biting your cheek to stop yourself from getting annoyed further. It didn't workâ the mouth gargling continued. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I'm sad too... You were my first kiss." Whoever he was, he whispered the last part as if he was bashful. In any case, you weren't entirely sure that was the best way to go about consoling someone.
You weren't the type to judge over sexual preferences, but why couldnât they just elope and get married already? Couldnât they choose a different room to fall over each other and leave you to rest? You rolled your eyes as you gazed up at the ceiling, wondering when they would stop talking and go back to their classes. "Now, everyone's gonna think Nendou and I are in love..."
You nearly snorted at the comment, but not because you found it funny. Typical high school boys with their typical shenanigans. You wished you had stayed homeâ this was not worth it. No longer did you want to be subjected to listening to either of them go on. You heard someone shuffle angrily across the room. "Hey, you better not tell anyone my fainting spell was a fake! ...Don't tell anyone!"
You decided that enough was enough. To hell with your first day at a new school and good first impressions. You were either going to get those two to leaveâ or leave yourself and just go home. Whichever was easier in your condition. You sat up and pulled back the curtain roughly, only to realise that there were three people in the room, not two. That's weird; you swore only the two were talking amongst themselves.
The room fell silent as all three boys looked at you in surprise. The one you assumed had slammed into the bed you were resting on, who was still on the floor, had... unique hair. Fashion choice? His mohawk was dyed blonde, while the rest of his hair was weirdly shaved. One of them had referred to him as 'Nendou', that you were sure of.
On closer inspection, you realised he had a scar that ran down his left eye and the most defined butt-chin you had ever seen. It hurt your eyes just to look at himâ that's how unpleasant his face was. He resembled a delinquent, but his mannerisms said otherwise. The one you assumed had been faking his sick had green hair and fish-like lips. Both of them were... unsightly, to say the least, and you swore just witnessing them was making you feel even worse.
Your eyes shifted to the one who hadn't talked once the entire time, and the first thing you noticed was his pink hair. Well, that was a new shade of colour you had yet to see. He wore green glasses and antennas on his head. He was the only one who looked marginally attractive, a thought you shoved down the minute you registered it. You wondered how he had managed to get past uniform inspection.
The boy with pink hair was the one who looked the most shocked to see you, his face paling at the sight of you kneeling on the nurse's bed. It was because he hadn't been able to detect you with his powers, a fact still unbeknownst to you.
They continued to stare at you, and you opened your mouth to speak, still holding your icepack against your forehead. "Can you please keep it down? I'm trying to restâ" You didn't get a chance to finish what you were saying, falling silent as you noticed the teacher who rescued you from before standing at the entrance of the nurse's office with a hand on the wall. Said wall cracked as his hold tightened around it, the veins on his forehead popping out in anger.
"I heard it all!" You watched the concrete of the wall around his palm crumble slightly as he shouted, debris falling to the floor. "Matsuzaki!" The green-haired boy spoke first, shocked to see the teacher standing at the door. At least you knew the name of your saviour. "So your fainting was a con job, huh?" The teacher truly was a force to be reckoned with; he looked scary as heâ wait, was he growing in size? He nearly towered over the green-haired boy in front of him.
"That's not what happened, sir! It's his fault. He forced me to collapse so he could skip out on the principal's speech, and my sickness is actually a ruse!" The green-haired boy pointed a finger at Nendou before bursting into tears as he cried into his arm. Matsuzaki put a hand on the boy's shoulder to console him before he furiously turned to Nendou.
You watched the scene unfold with a blank face. You should've just pretended to be asleepâ maybe then you wouldn't have been subjected to witness such an exchange take place. Was it too late to get back into the bed and pull the covers over yourself? Yes, yes it was.
"Nendou, is that all true?!" So, you were right, that was his name! At least your observation skills weren't failing short because of the migraine. It wasn't his fault, but the green-haired boy had done a pretty good job at acting like it was. He had expertly made up lies to avoid getting into trouble, letting Nendou take the fall for him instead.
Nendou didn't even get a chance to retaliate as Matsuzaki took notice of the pink-haired boy to his right. "Huh? Saiki, what are you doing here?" Come to think of it, you found it weird that the guy had yet to say a word. Was he mute? So, Saiki was his name. The one with antennas only acknowledged Matsuzaki but didn't open his mouth to speak.
Of course, Saiki did reply, but he did so telepathically. Your immunity to the supernatural, without you knowing it, blocked out his ability, which is why you thought he hadn't said anything, even though he had been talking to the others since the moment he had entered the nurse's office.
"Takahashi, is he also a part of this?" Â Matsuzaki asked the green-haired boy, who you now knew to call Takahashi. Matsuzaki pointed a finger at Saiki, looking at fish lips with an expectant gaze. Takahashi stopped crying abruptly, lowering his arm slightly as he opened his mouth to answer. "Who? Yeah, sure." How was the teacher believing these lies?! You had to question his credibility. You watched Saiki's expression darken at the accusation. This whole situation was getting more and more absurd.
"That's it! I want you both in my office!" How had the teacher, of all people, not realised that Takahashi was faking this entire thing and making up elaborate lies to avoid getting into trouble? And why was the whole exchange going so fast?
At this rate, you were going to get whiplash with how quickly you were looking between the four. At least your headache had died down slightly, just enough for you to think clearly. So long as you didn't get dragged into this whole mess, you'd be just fine. Hah, you wanted to leave.
"Hold on a sec, teach. His feigning is real. Didn't you hear him just say it? Root sickness." Nendou said it so ominouslyâ you nearly believed him. That lasted for a second until you gazed up at the boy in sheer disbelief. Was it possible to be this idiotic? How could someone even be capable of mistaking ruse for roots?
You weren't the only one who thought so, as the other three in the room looked at Nendou in shock and awe. You were sure they felt the sameâ Nendou was... slow, to say the least. "What? Isn't that right?" Nendou was confident he was correct andâ were those stars dancing around him... and, why was he drooling? You would laugh, but you were still trying to process whatever just took place.
"What in the holy heck? What's root sicknessâ root sickness is a deadly virus that infects the victim through the follicles. Ohh, that one." Halfway through Matsuzaki trying to understand why Nendou brought up such an illness, he started to think out loud before coming to the conclusion that Nendou was right.
Ah.
This whole situation was outrageous! How had you managed to witness such incompetency from a teacher? At least he was reliable in the sense that he cared. You couldn't think too badly of Matsuzaki as he was the one who had gone through the trouble of bringing you to the nurse's office when you fell. He was still as gullible as they come, though.
"Let's take your temperature to see if you have a fever. That's what my mom does for me." Could you leave yet? No one would say anything if you just walked out, right? You weren't too keen on taking a risk, so you decided to stay put for the time being and hope your existence would be background noise. "Are you a new student?" You spoke too soon, Matsuzaki had noticed you.
You stood up from your seat on the bed, staggering slightly as you felt black spots cloud your vision. Maybe getting up abruptly wasn't a good idea. You sighed, wondering what had become of your luck, "Yes, I'm new. This is my first day here." Matsuzaki took note of your confirmation, nodding to himself as he put a hand to his chin. "Do you have root sickness too?"
Not this root sickness talk againâ of course you didn't because a disease like that didn't exist. There was no known medical condition dubbed 'root sickness', to begin with. Good luck convincing Matsuzaki of that fact, though. You shook your head, no. "I have a headache, not a fever. I'll be fine if I get some rest." Were you the only one who saw reason in this room? Probably. You did know one thing, and that was that you weren't going to be fooled into believing that you had a made-up illness; you just felt nauseous.
Though the feeling had dimmed, you still wanted to go home to recover. "Is it alright if I take sick leave today? I don't think I'm well enough to stay here." Matsuzaki agreed, muttering how he'd let your homeroom teacher know since he'd already seen you fall like a sack of potatoes near the school's front gates. You exhaled in relief at that, deciding then that you liked this teacher; after allâ he was cool.
Matsuzaki then proceeded to get a thermometer from one of the drawers in the room to check Takahashi's temperature. All the while, the boy in question sat at a bench in the corner of the room with one sleeve of his uniform jacket taken off. He was sweating profusely, no doubt because he had been faking this entire time and was about to be caught. Serves him right, you thought to yourself, Takahashi had dug his own grave. Was now a good time to ask for directions?
"98.2 Celcius... Go call an ambulance now!" You quickly turned on your feet to look at Matsuzaki. How was that possible?! That was 40 Celcius too high! The average body temperature for a human was 37! You wondered if Takahashi really did have root sickness. You quickly got rid of the thought, that wasn't possible. Maybe he just had a high fever? No, that didn't make sense either. You let the thought go when you felt your headache return with vengeance.
The ambulance came in record time, with EMTs carrying Takahashi out on a gurney to be loaded into the van with Nendou shouting words of encouragement after him. You watched from the window in the nurse's office, shaking your head. Today had been a disaster. You decided you had had enough of this school for now, turning on your heel so you could head home.
The only other person in the room besides you was Saiki. Surely, he would know the way out of this place, right? You weren't familiar with the layout and didn't feel like getting lost trying to find the main entrance. There was no harm in asking, so why not?
"Do you know how I can get out of here? I'm not sure how since I'm new." Saiki turned to you, his blank face, which was devoid of all emotion, making it hard to read him. This entire time not once had you seen a significant change in his expression. Was he even human?
Silence followed, and the man had the nerve to raise an eyebrow at you. You mirrored his expression, leaning your head forward ever so slightly, expecting an answer. "Hello? Do you know where the main entrance is?" You didn't miss the look of shock that crossed his face. Had Saiki actually been mute like you first assumed? Oh no, how insensitive of you!
Before you could splutter out an apology, he opened his mouth to speak. "First stairs to your left. If you take them all the way down to the ground floor, you'll reach the shoe lockers. That's the way out." You weren't sure what you expected him to sound like, but it certainly wasn't that. Honeyâ that was the only word that came to mind when you thought of how to describe it. Rich, and smooth, not too deep, but very appealing. You decided you liked the sound of his voice, if nothing else.
You nodded your head, thanking him before you made your move to leave the room. It hadn't even been an hour since you had come to PK Academy, and still, everything had gone downhill the moment you stepped through those blasted gates. You rubbed at your forehead in mild frustration, already missing the icepack you had left in the nurse's office.
Nendou passed you in the hall, moving to walk into the room you had just emerged from. You turned, curious as to why he was going back and that was your downfall. You peeked into the room, and that's when you saw it. Past Nendou's form, which was slightly obstructing your vision, stood Saiki with a thermometer in hand. The same one Matsuzaki had used on Takahashi.Â
Out of nowhere, it caught on fire in Saiki's palm, and the guy had the nerve to casually crush it in his hand as if the heat didn't affect him. Your body moved before you could think, and you turned to hide. The wall next to the door to the office was enough to keep you from being spotted.
You took note of your heart speeding up in your chest, feeling as though you had seen something you shouldn't have. It hadn't been an illusion. What you had witnessed was not as your imagination. Saiki had set the thermometer on fire with his mind! There was no other explanation. He could use pyrokinesis, the ability to manipulate heat.
This whole situation and the events that took place had set you on edge. Normally, you would have let curiosity get the better of you, which would have led you to confront Saiki about what you had seen, but this time it was differentâ as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat, and you decided this time satisfaction might not be enough to bring it back. Though you weren't a stranger to the supernatural, you had no interest in becoming 'buddy-buddy' with Saiki or even talking to him in the future, for that matter.
You were already surrounded by strange occurrences, and adding to the list of people you knew who could do things others couldn't, didn't sound appealing at all. Better to just leave it. The last thing you wanted was to get involved with someone like him.
Chances were, you wouldn't run into Saiki. The school was big, and there was no way you would be so unlucky as to end up in the same class as him. With that, you began to walk, following the directions you had received earlier so you could get to the main entrance of the school building.
That was how your first meeting with Saiki Kusuo had gone.
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You had to have the worst luck on earthâ surely, you did something to throw your karma out of balance because there was no other way of explaining your predicament. Fate, maybe? Everything happens for a reason, after all. Once you attended your classes for the first time, you discovered you were, in fact, in the same class as the pyrokinetic boy from the day before.
You sighed as you laid down on your bed, resting your eyes as you willed yourself to change out of your uniform. You took the time to think back to the events of the past few days.
Your first official day at PK Academy had been just as eventful as the day you went home early. When you entered the class, the first person who caught your attention was the pink-haired boy with antennas, Saiki.
You had frozen mid-step as soon as you realised you were in the same class as him. What had snapped you out of your thoughts was the home-room teacher announcing that you were the new transfer student. After introducing yourself, you took a seat, coincidentally ending up right behind the person you wanted to avoid most.
The school day went on, and you tried to make the best of your situation. Just because you were in the same class didnât mean you would interact with each other. Saiki didnât look like the talkative type either. The rest of the morning was spent trying to calm your nerves.
It was reasonably quiet until the first break.
As soon as the teacher left, you pulled out your phone and plugged in your earphones to tune the world out. You had ignored everyone around you, grateful for the fact that no one had come to bother your peace. Quietly sitting at your desk, you decided to do homework because you had time and knew you wouldnât do it when you got home.
That was until the class started discussing a snake on the loose after it escaped the zoo, and you overheard. Shame on you for not increasing the volume from the start. A student with light blue hair spoke up immediately, claiming that an evil organisation called 'Dark Reunionâ was behind it.
Ah, you had heard of this before, an awful condition where an individual was convinced they had otherwordly powers, like a girl from your last school who claimed she saw ghosts. Then again, who were you to judge when you were probably every bit as delusional as he was? Was it bad that you thought you could take that snake down with ease? Yes, yes, it was.
You couldnât bring yourself to listen in closely as he went on with his fantasies. Situations like that usually didnât end wellâ and you had been correct. Your classmates had made fun of the strange boy until he left the room when they found out the snake was ordinary and a bunch of 4-year-olds had killed it, his voice trembling as he declared that he had tried to warn them. Your guess was that he was going to the bathroom to cry. Wow, high school kids were ruthless.
Saiki left shortly after, to your relief, and that was when all hell broke loose. The class broke out into screams. When you realised it was over a snake that had somehow gotten into the room, you quickly jumped on top of your desk, accidentally pushing off your books and pens in your haste.
The class collectively lost their minds. The students had exclaimed that someone should get the teacher, but no one moved to do so as the snake blocked the door. Nendou, the one from the nurseâs office who was also in your class, appeared out of nowhere and started to make fun of everyone for being scared. You werenât concerned with his smack talk, too busy staring at his crotch and not for the conventional reason. The snake had latched itself onto Nendouâs family jewels. Poor guy.
Long story short, Nendou got bitten in the balls by the reptile and proceeded to pass out on the floor. The light blue-haired boy from before with the 'Chuunibyu Complexâ returned and tried to protect the class from the snake, willingly putting himself in danger when the snake launched itself at a girl whose face you probably wouldnât remember in a week. What a sweetheartâ with that, you sent Kaidou your blessings, convinced that he was going to meet his end.
Your first official day, and there was already gonna be a death. What had you done to ask for this? Then it happened, he yelled 'Judgement Knights of Thunder!â and then there was lightâ well, lightning. It appeared mysteriously, and music seemingly started playing out of nowhere. 'JUDGMENT KNIGHTS OFâ JUDGMENT KNIGHTS OF THUNDER!â
For a second, you had wondered if the author was breaking the fourth wall to talk to you. Had your time finally come? Had the day arrived when a divine power would smite you off this mortal coil? That didnât seem to be the caseâ no, it was just Kaidouâs theme song playing.Â
Even after coming home from school, you had yet to get the tune out of your head. What could you say? The song was catchy.
You had figured that Kaidou also had otherwordly abilities. That meant he had been telling the truth when he claimed to have special powers. A pyrokinetic user and a guy who could control lightning, both of them were in your class. What were the chances?
That wasnât the only thing you had observed. When you went to town to pick up new stationery, you spotted Saiki. It was a mere coincidence that he and you were in the same place, at the same time, seemingly heading in the same direction.
You had silently walked behind him, praying to yourself that he wouldnât turn around and notice you. You hadnât actively been trying to follow him, so why did you feel like you were some type of stalker?
What snapped you out of your thoughts was a girl with navy blue hair crossing the street to say hi to the man before you. Were they familiar with each other? Mid-squint, you realised that the girl was also a classmate of yours.
Kokori was it? Kokoâ Ah, yes, Kokomi Teruhashi. She was quite popular among the boys in your school for her beauty. Personally, you had thought it was overrated. Perfect was boring. Not to mention, you got the feeling that she was somewhat narcissistic.
Having people compliment her and practically drool all over her would surely get to her head, right? Then you shoved the thought down automatically because it was merely conjecture, and who were you to judge? Assumptions were assumptions and just that at the end of the day. You did wonder for a moment if your immunity worked against her beauty, too.
You stopped when Saiki did, as Teruhashi moved to stand in front of him to greet him, and you went into full panic mode. You hadnât been keen on walking past him, so you had stayed in place. Critical thinking saved you, and you pulled out your phone to make it look like you were checking something, all the while dying of embarrassment because of how awkward you probably looked.
When you imagined yourself from a bird's eye view, just standing there, you prayed a natural disaster would come and save you from this humiliation. What followed shocked you, all thoughts of mortification thrown out the window at what took place. Out of your peripherals, Saiki had bowed before continuing to walk.
You had been just as baffled as Teruhashi, the girl in question still frozen in place. Why did he avoid her? You couldnât help but wonder. Any other boy would have melted at the sight of her. Was he gay? Was he in love with someone else? You continued walking when Saiki started to move again, watching as Teruhashi chased after him. It got to the point where he stopped acknowledging her in general.
You wished you could turn around and walk the other way, but you had to get home! Why today of all days? Your life was never this eventful before. All you could do was watch on as Teruhashi called after him, to no avail. She had resorted to a different method after that, reaching out to grab him forcefully, only for Saiki to dodge her expertly every time. Did he have eyes at the back of his head or something? You deserved a pat on the back for not laughing once during the whole exchange.
When Saiki entered the crowd, Teruhashi tried to follow him. It proved to be fruitless, as he seemingly disappeared. That wiped the grin off your face, and you stopped dead in your tracks.
Saiki had teleported; there was no doubt about it. Your eyes were on him, and then he vanished. It was no trick of the light, you knew for sure as you watched the debris settle from where Saiki had just been moments earlier. That had sent you down a spiral. You had known then that he had more than one power. He didnât just have the ability of Pyrokeneiss; he could also teleport. Just how powerful was he?
You kept an eye out for Saiki after that, quietly observing him to see if he had any other abilities.
When the boys were playing dodgeball in P.E., you were in Home Ec, trying to make cupcakes. You had used the better half of the lesson watching Saiki play, nearly burning what you had been baking because of your preoccupied thoughts. After being lectured, you spent the rest of the lesson in the back, ducking to escape the glares sent your way by the teacher.Â
What had caught your eye was him throwing a ball lightly at the dodgeball cart, only for the whole thing to be destroyed entirely. Your jaw had practically dropped to the floor at the sight, cupcakes all but forgotten in the oven 5 minutes too long as you gawked at his retreating form. If you hadnât been watching Saiki, you would have assumed it was a meteor that had hit it. He had superhuman strength, too?
It also struck you as odd that anytime the teacher called on him to answer, he would stay silent. Then, the teacher would tell Saiki that he was correct, as if the man in question had replied. Could he also control minds and manipulate them or something? What the hell was happening?
The more you watched him, the more you were convinced that he was an extremely dangerous individual. You had concluded that your decision not to get involved with him had been a good oneâ you should have stayed put at your last school; coming to PK Academy had been a bad idea.
â” â” â” â” â” â”Â
The days rolled by until Friday came around, and you mentally patted yourself on the back for having succeeded in avoiding Saiki. You had gotten through your first week without garnering any unwanted attentionâ too bad no one was around to give you a gold star.
You sat at your desk, drinking from a can of cold coffee you had retrieved from a vending machine, as you half-heartedly listened to the rest of the class prattle on about romance. Did they have nothing better to talk about during their break? Personally, you believed they were all way too young and immature to be in relationships, you included. Then again, you were probably the most mature one there since, technically, your mental age was 3 years more or however many times the year had turned back.
Just listening to them gave you a headache. You shifted your attention, looking up to stare at the back of Saikiâs head. You had noticed that, for the most part, he was alone during the day, save for when Nendou and Kaidouâ the light blue-haired boy who struck lightning, would come to talk to him.
You lightly shook your head when you realised your mistake; why were you even thinking about Saiki? You sighed inwardly, clearing your mind before turning to your right to look at the track field past the classroom window. You were boredâ terribly bored, if your restless legs were anything to go by. You took the time to relish in the sunâs warmth beating down on your face, closing your eyes to enjoy the moment.
After a while, you faced forward again, your eyes scanning the room. That was when your gaze landed on the girl next to Saiki. If memory served you correctly from when the teacher did roll call that morning, her name was Chiyo Yumehara.
Yumehara was plain-looking for the most part and didnât really stand out. She had rust-coloured hair at chin length and a simple headband with a bow on top of her head. What had caught your eye, however, wasnât the girl herselfâ but the textbook she was doodling in. On closer inspection, you realised she was drawing Saiki. Once you leaned left, hands clasping the sides of your desk so you wouldnât fall, you finally got a good look. Your face distorted in horror and despair at the crude reimagination of Saiki as some generic princely shoujo manga male lead.
You could assume one thing for sure, Yumehara definitely had a crush on Saiki. Why else would she take the time to sketch his face?
You continued to agonise over how she had drawn Saiki. He looked all mushy, not sharp and rough like he normally appeared. Truly ugly, in your opinion, since Saiki was closer to the 'cold, quietâ type rather than the 'princeâ. Her version of him had tame hair, sparkling eyes, and a soft expression.
How had she strayed so far from the original source material when he was less than a metre away from her? Saiki had unruly hair, blank eyes and sharp eyebrows that made his expression somewhat harsher.
Hold onâ why were you paying that much attention to him to begin with? You sighed, rubbing your forehead as you looked back down at your desk to continue completing your homework. You decided then that though you had learnt something new by observing, you wouldnât get involved. Nothing good would come of it, you were sure.
However, remaining unaffiliated proved to be a challenge.
Walking the halls of your school as you tried to navigate your way to the nurseâs office so you could get a bandage was difficult. Despite having been to the room already, you still didnât know how to get there by yourself.
You had managed to cut yourself when turning the page of a textbook in class earlier. The pain was tremendous, even though the injury was minor one. You inspected the paper cut on your index finger, squeezing below the wound to see if blood would come out. It did. So you had no choice but to get up and roam the halls to find a plaster lest you stain your books with red.
You sighed in mild frustration, looking around, trying to spot someone you could ask to guide you to where you needed to go. Thatâs when you caught sight of Yumehara, who looked like she was peering around the corner, waiting for someone. With a nod to yourself, you began to stride up to her confidently.Â
You faltered three steps in when Yumehara started to giggle to herself. You didnât feel so bold anymore; the sound coming from her lips kind of freaked you out. Why was she laughing? She was completely alone, too. She looked like a pervert⊠was homegirl okay?
Despite hesitating, you knew it was too late to turn around and back out, so you settled on walking up to her anyway. You got close enough so that she could hear you before you spoke up. âHeyâ uh, Yumehara?â She wouldnât be creeped out that you already knew her name, right?
Yumehara nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of your voice. She turned around with a startled gasp, bringing up a hand to clutch at her chest. It was then that you noticed she was holding a bunch of papers. She was most likely going to drop them off somewhere for a teacher. Had you stalled her from getting to where she needed to be? âŠOh, well, it's not like she had some time limit; class wasn't due to start for the next 10 minutes.
âMind showing me the way to the nurseâs office? I donât know where it isâ since Iâm new and all.â You unconsciously raised an eyebrow at the look of disdain that crossed Yumeharaâs face, like she went poking in her ear and you were the earwax she pulled out.Â
Hey, hey, hey! That was no way to act around someone who was in need. No matter, youâd pretend that she didnât just give you a dirty lookâ you did require her assistance to find the nurseâs office after all. A beat of silence passed before she finally responded.
ââŠOh. Uhhâ sure, Iâll help you.â At least Yumehara didnât outright refuse you. Guess she wasnât as heartless as to tell you to look for someone else to help you with directions. You decided it was worthwhile to give her a smile of gratitude. âThanks. I have a nasty paper cut, and I need a plaster.â
Then came the feeling of dread when Saiki rounded the corner. You froze, and for a moment, it felt as though your soul had left your body. 'Ah.â Your lips slowly parted into a grimace. Your mind ran at a million miles per hour. Yumehara was trying to get alone with Saiki, wasnât she? Had you ruined her plans? Had he noticed? The last thing you wanted was for Saiki to pay attention to you. He was dangerous. This was bad. Bad, bad, bad!
You inhaled, then exhaled, telling yourself to calm down. There was no way Saiki could have predicted that Yumehara was trying to bump into him just so she could have a reason to interact with him, right? That meant you were in the clearâ there was no reason for you to be worried.
Yumehara watched as Saiki strolled past quietly, gazing after him with longing and disappointment. She sighed, clutching the papers in her arms closer to her chest as she signalled for you to follow her. At your success in not garnering Saikiâs attention, behind Yumehara, you pumped your fist in the air.
What you failed to notice was Saiki watching you do so. You trailed behind Yumehara with a slight skip to your step, completely oblivious.
'L/n⊠thatâs her name, right? She did that on purpose, didnât she? But why? ...Donât tell me she has a crush on me, too. What a pain.â
â” â” â” â” â” â”Â
Somehow, for the rest of the day, you unintentionally found yourself spoiling every part of Yumeharaâs plan to get closer to Saiki.
When Yumehara dropped her pink handkerchief on the floor, you had retrieved it for her. You had noticed it fall, and like the good samaritan you were, you decided to give it back to her. What better way to pass the time on your break than collecting brownie points with her after you spoiled her first plan?
Pushing your chair back, you walked behind Yumehara and knelt so that you could pick it up for her. You unconsciously placed a hand on the metal stand that held up the desk next to you, which happened to be Saikiâs, so you wouldnât fall.
You didnât notice how she giggled and hummed to herself as she skipped away, too focused on doing a good deed. âHey, Yumeharaâ is this yours?â You held up the pastel pink handkerchief and observed it in your hand as she turned around, her expression dropping as she realised it was you who had stopped her. Well, that wasnât the look you expected to be greeted with when you helped her.
Then realisation hit you as she looked over your shoulder, and you followed her gaze to realise Saiki was right there behind you. Oh⊠Youâd done it twice now. You had gotten in Yumeharaâs way again, hadnât you? And there you were thinking, it was weird when she dropped the handkerchief so aggressively. Ahâ she had thrown it.
Had she done it on purpose⊠solely to get Saikiâs attention? It wasnât a bad idea and probably would have worked had you not intervened. Saiki would have picked it up or helped her look for it if she asked. He wouldnât have. You had ruined her chance. Again. Oh, for the love ofâ
You wanted to ram your head through the nearest wall. Even though you planned not to get involved, you still managed to get in the middle of Yumeharaâs budding romance, and you only had yourself to blame.
The girl in question hurried over to you and snatched the handkerchief from your hand before she dramatically ran out of the classroom, clearly upset and somewhat embarrassed. Damn. The least you could do was apologise and say you were sorry after what you had done. âGeez, all I did was pick it up. Hey! We have class in three minutes! Yumehara, wait!â With that, you ran after her.
After you managed to chase her down, you apologised to Yumehara with a cold drink you bought from the vending machine. She didnât seem too annoyed after that. You inwardly apologised to the girl for ruining her plans not once but twiceâ saying it out loud would only cause her embarrassment. With how covert she was being, she probably wouldnât appreciate you rubbing salt into her wounds by bringing up her failed attempt at trying to play Cupid.
As your luck would have it, the rest of the day went by with you stopping Yumehara from getting close to Saiki at every turnâ without even trying.
You picked up the ball in P.E. when it rolled over to Saikiâs direction, thinking you were being nice, only to realise later that Yumehara had purposely thrown it that far.
You opened the door to the staff room when Yumehara had too many books in her hands to do it herself. She had hoped Saiki would help her since he was nearby, but you had come to the rescue insteadâ your efforts were not appreciated.
You offered to help finish the extra cookies she made in Home Ec, successfully stopping her from going to find Saiki. All the while, you had done everything unconsciously, only realising your mistake afterwards. What a disaster.
The last lesson for the day came, and you rolled your neck from side to side, your mental exhaustion palpable. How had you stopped Yumeharaâs plans every single time? Why did you have to be around whenever she decided to put her plan into motion?
You hoped she didnât hate you. Or worse, think you were deliberately trying to stop her because you wanted Saiki all to yourself, which was the furthest from the truth anyone could get. Then again, you wouldnât be surprised if you were the reason she started her Villain Arc and made you her first target. At least the woman had the patience of a saint; you had no idea how she hadnât asked to take it outside yet.
You yawned into the back of your hand, waiting for the day to end, eyes trailing to the classroom window when the sound of rain filtered into your ears. There was a downpour.
Despite the weather being sunny in the morning, the clouds had turned grey, and the temperature had dropped significantly. You placed your head on the desk, its surface cool against the side of your face. Shivering at the sensation, you stretched your arms across the table before crossing them to completely hide your face.
The weather managed to affect your mood, making you feel drowsy as you tried to preserve warmth. At least there wasnât long left till home time. You had nearly fallen asleep during the last period of the day, and thankfully, the teacher never commented.
When the bell rang, signalling that the school day was over, you rubbed the slumber from your eyes. You hadnât thought to bring an umbrella, so you would either have to ask someone to share with you or use your bag as a shield against the drizzle.
You quickly packed up your things so you could hurry to the entrance, hoping you could catch someone to walk halfway home with. Grabbing your bag and placing its strap on your shoulder, you rushed to the shoe lockers. Thatâs when you caught sight of Yumehara.
She was standing just before the steps outside, the glass door between the two of you. She didnât have an umbrella either. If you had to guess, she must have forgotten it at home like you did. Slipping your outdoor shoes on with one hand, you walked over to the entrance of the building and stepped through it.
You decided to wait beside her, hoping youâd get lucky and someone would offer to share an umbrella with you. âYou forgot your umbrella, too?â You turned to Yumehara, who spoke first. âHuh? Ohâ Yeah. I didnât think it would rain today.â You looked up at the sky. Wow, this was awkward; you had no idea how to keep the conversation going.
The clouds were still grey, and the rain didnât look like it was going to let up anytime soon. You breathed in the fresh air; the earthy smell accompanying the weather was always your favourite. Besides the part where you would get wet, you absolutely adored the rain.
You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, letting the soft patter of the falling water lull you into a sense of calm. You pulled out your phone to check the time. It didnât look like anyone would offer to share an umbrella with you any time soon. âAt this rate, weâre gonna have to walk home by ourselvââ
Before you could finish voicing your thoughts, miraculously, the clouds cleared, and the weather improved. You gaped up at the sun that had appeared out of nowhere. No matter how you looked at it, this turn of events was anything but normal. Was it Saiki?
You quickly shoved down the first thought that came to mind, moving away from the shade the school building provided as you started walking to the main gate. There was no way he was that powerful. Even humans had their limitations, and you couldnât possibly have been so unlucky as to become classmates with someone with such extraordinary abilities.
You began to make your way home, and before long, you realised unusual things were happening around you. Right before you were about to get run over by a car, the vehicle seemingly defied all laws of psychics and flew over your head before driving off normally.
Then, when a biker nearly crashed into you, it somehow changed directions and swerved to the right, alarmingly close to driving onto the main road. That wasnât normal, right? You werenât going insane, were you? When someone bumped into you, causing you to lose your balance, you found that you were standing uprightâ like you didnât nearly trip face-first onto the pavement.
What the hell was going on? Was it some long-forgotten ancestor who had taken pity on you? Or was the author apologising for the tremendous amount of bad luck they gave you?
As you looked around to make sense of things, you noticed Saiki. The bane of your existence. How was he everywhere? His pink hair made him easy to notice, even if he was trying to blend in with the crowd. Had he⊠had he saved you? Wait, that meantâ he could use telekinesis?! You had to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. You could not let on that you knew of his powers.
You turned around, preparing to sprint, your grip on the shoulder strap of your bag tightening. âWho sent you?â At the sound of Saikiâs voice filling your ears, your stomach practically dropped to your feet, tensing when the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Why did you feel like you were in some sort of thriller movie?
The last thing you wanted to do was look behind you. In the film industry, that was as good as sealing your fate. Death was looming over your shoulder, and damn it all because you did not want to be the first one to die. Maybe if you pretended that you couldnât hearâ âI know you heard me.â You winced. This was not good. Sirens were going off in your head. Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!
You swore under your breath as you turned around to face the man. You didn't have much of a choice; youâd have to play dumb. âHm? Oh! Saiki, right? What do you mean by that? Iâm just a normal high school student.â You gave Saiki a strained smile. You werenât lying; you werenât anyone special save for your immunity to the supernatural.
Huhâ was it just you, or was he prettier up close? You shunned the thoughts running through your head; now was not the time! Saiki narrowed his eyes, the suspicion in them clear as day. âWho are you?â Now, you were confused. Did he think you were a spy or something? Had no one else noticed his powers like you had? He wasnât exactly careful about using them since they had caught your attention early on.
âIâ uh, Iâm l/n. Your classmate. I sit behind you?â Saiki furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly, clenching his jaw. There was silence for a moment, and you wondered if that meant you could leave. âFollow me." You hesitated, unsure what to do, as he swiftly turned on his heel to walk away. He paused when he realised you weren't following, looking at you over his shoulder. "Come on.â He wasnât going to give up, was he?
The seed of doubt had already been planted, and there was no getting rid of it now. You wouldnât be able to bluff your way out of this one. Maybe confronting him would be better? That way, you wouldnât have to worry about avoiding him all the time. You fast-walked to close the distance between you and him.
For the entirety of the journey, you wondered where he was taking you. You prayed to whichever higher power was willing to listen that he wouldnât murder you. From what you had seen, he could easily do so.
âWhere are we?â You stopped in front of the house before you. You guessed it must be his house, but asking to make sure was always a good thing. âThis is my home.â Oh, boy. You knew one thing for sure; you definitely werenât prepared for this.
â” â” â” â” â” â”Â
For a psychic, Saikiâs room was more average than you expected it to be. There was a desk, a bed and a TV. Other amenities, such as the wardrobe built into the wall, a bookshelf and a small planted tree for decor, were also in plain sight. The bedroom of a typical high school teenager.
It was⊠weird. From what you could tell, Saiki was an esper, so you assumed he would have an extravagant room, at least. That meant that he didnât use his powers for the wrong things. So you could safely assume he wouldnât kill you in cold blood, right?
Saiki wouldnât murder you, would he? He wouldnât be so careless as to slaughter his classmate in his own house. That would make him the lead suspect in your homicide, right?
His mum knew you were here too, so he wouldnât use violence to subdue you, no? You hoped so. Mrs Saiki had been cooking when you came in. Saiki didnât let you see each other but she seemed like the sweetest woman by the way she greeted him, so naturallyâ her son would have inherited some of her personality traits, right? You wanted to leave already. Being alone with him was hurting your peace of mindâ why couldn't he do this in front of his mother?
âIâll ask again. Who are you?â While Saiki had parked himself on the chair facing away from his desk, looking at you sceptically as he sat like he owned the place (which he did), you chose to stand across from him. Damn, this was awkward. Why had he brought you here again? âI told you, Iâm just a classmate.â
You hoped your answer would be enough to appease him. You thought wrong. "âŠWhy canât I figure you out?â You raised an eyebrow at that. It didnât seem as though he was asking you; more like he was talking out loud. Then again, he did deliberately voice his question, so that meant you could pry. "Iâm sorry?â
âI canât read your thoughts. Why is that? Are you stupid? Or did someone send you?â He was blunt, huh? Did he have no manners? Assuming that you were a moron⊠was kind of mean. You were somewhat offended. Waitâ he said he couldnât read your thoughts. Did that mean he could use telepathy as well?
âAh⊠You also have telepathy?â It would explain a lot, like how he could reply to others even though it looked like he was staying silentâ but wrapping your head around the fact that he had that many powers was almost impossible. Truly mindboggling. Your brain was hurting.
âAlso?â It was his turn to raise an eyebrow at you. Saiki looked at you expectantly, leaning back in his chair as he waited for you to elaborate. Cursing yourself inwardly for not thinking before you spoke, you found interest in the pens on his desk. The cat was out of the bag, so there was no point in trying to hide it. âI might have seen you use your powers. Uh, pyrokinesis, telekenisis and⊠superhuman strength?â
Silence followed after you spoke, and you stared down at your feet. âI have to get rid of you.â Your head snapped up to look at Saiki, your eyes widening. You gaped at him, your mind running a million miles per hour.
You were right! He was going to murder you! Oh, no, no, no! You still had so many things you wanted to cross off your bucket listâ so many sights you had yet to see! This could not be happening!
âWait, wait, waitâ thatâ thatâs too far, man! I have a familyâ kids, I have kids!â It was true that humans would spout nonsense when faced with imminent death, and you were living proof of it. You winced at the words that were coming out of your mouth.
No, you did not have children, but you would say anything if it meant staying alive. Your lips trembled as you gazed at Saiki with pleading eyes. You didnât want to die! Not like this!
âDonât lie. I know for a fact that you donât.â Saiki shot you an unamused look as he stared you down. You broke out into a cold sweat. What the hell were you going to do now? Only one thing came to mind. âPlease! Spare me! Iâll do anything!â You got onto your knees as you begged with your hands clasped together.
Your dignity went straight out the window, and you couldnât care. You would shamelessly plead for your life if it meant he wouldnât kill you. âStart by telling me why I canât read your thoughts and who sent you.â
So, he wouldnât kill you if you told him the truth? Fine, that was a small price to pay. Youâd rat out your own flesh and blood if it meant he would leave you be. You were heartless like thatâ oh well, survival of the fittest, as they say. You looked up in hope at the man before you for throwing you a lifeline. You could still get out of this unscathed!
âNo one! Damn it! I already told you, Iâm just a regular high school student⊠and the thing with the mind-readingâ I guess you could say Iâm immune.â If anyone walked into the room, they would most likely assume that you were doing something not so family-friendly, but it wasn't like you could move.
Get your mind out of the gutter! You internally cursed at yourself for having thought such a thing. It was too late to get up now; youâd have to stay on your knees. Besides, you didnât know if you were in the clear yet or not, so youâd remain in place until you were sure. You just hoped Mrs Saiki was the type of parent who wouldnât walk through the door unannounced; you still had some decency worth saving.
âImmune?â Saiki leaned forward in his chair, showing a slight interest in your words. He tilted his head to the side as he studied you. âYes. To everything supernatural. Naturally, that means all of your powers donât work on me.â
Once you were finished with your brief explanation, Saiki brought a hand up to his chin. ââŠSo thatâs why⊠Tell me, have you noticed anything weird with the world?â Saiki moved his gaze from the ceiling down to you as he gave you a blank stare. You looked elsewhere to gather your thoughts. There were so many things you could think of, off the top of your head.
âUh⊠Yeah? Do you mean the weird hair colours? The quick healing? Oh, and the chop to the neck can knock someone out. Thereâs the fact that skinny people can be super strong and how clothes can get ripped off of someone, but their hoo-haâs are still covered. The worst of it all is the year keeps repeating itself. Did you notice that, too?â You used your fingers to list everything weird thing youâve noticed before you turned to Saiki.
Finally! Someone who understood your struggles, you'd been graced with an ally with whom you could share your troubles. Silence followed, and your natural response was to overthink. Saiki didnât speak for a moment, leaving you wondering what you said wrong. âHow⊠How is that possible?â You perked up at his words before looking at him sceptically. âWhat do you mean?â
âNone of my powers work on you. Not even mind control⊠The weird things around you were all caused by me.â Â
The air was stagnant; not a single word was exchanged as his words sank in. Then, your jaw nearly fell to the floor at Saikiâs revelation. He did all that? How on earth did he have the ability to pull all that off? Take the crazy hair colours for exampleâ if he was the cause of it, then he had managed to alter human biology down to the genetic level.
Wasnât this the part where your fight-or-flight response was supposed to kick in? Of course, your body would choose the 'freezeâ option. Staying still wasnât helping your current mental state. The fact that Saiki had enough power to destroy the world, with just his mind if he wanted to, terrified you. The man before you was the most dangerous human to exist on earth to date. No living creature should be allowed to possess such abilities.
âHuh?! It wasâ It was you? This entire time? Youâ What the hell?! âŠAre youâ are you even human?â Your mind reeled, and you struggled to form coherent sentences. Was Saiki the reason you had such a bad headache that you nearly collapsed on your first day at PK Academy? It made sense. Had you gotten used to his powers, then? Was that why you were able to be near him now?
âIâm just a regular high school student.â You looked at Saiki in sheer disbelief and doubt. He was anything but a normal person. He was definitely the most potent psychic you had ever met. You shook your head at his statement. âNo, you arenât. That'sâ Thatâs a lie.â You folded your arms over your chest. âI am. If you try telling anyone else otherwise⊠well.â Saiki brought his hand up before he swiped his thumb across his throat.
The nerve! He was threatening you, and you⊠you couldnât even do anything about it! You bit your lip in mild frustration before you sighed. âY'know whatâ forget it. Fine, keep your secrets. Just donât kill me.â There was no other option. Youâd have to yield and wave the flag of surrender.
Saiki crossed his legs and placed his hand on his knee, the other on the armrest of his chair. âSo, your immunity? Explain it to me.â Why did he have to be so intimidating? Your knees still hurt from sitting on the floor. Youâd stay put just in case, thoughâ you didnât feel like risking your life over a case of sore limbs.
âI'm not sure why, but I've always noticed weird things; I guess I just developed a natural immunity to the supernatural for some reason. The power to nullify otherâs abilities when used on me.â You didn't know why you were being this honest. Maybe because your life was on the line? Who knew?
âCan you turn it off?â You halted any movement when your mind finally processed what Saiki said. He couldnât read your mind; you knew that much, so would lying to him have any repercussions? One look at Saikiâs emotionless face told you that you didnât want to find out.
You opted to lean back and sit with your legs folded beneath you so your weight would no longer only be on your knees. Damn, you felt like you spent the day working your back at the gym; that was your exercise for the week. You sighed as you looked down at your lap before meeting Saikiâs gaze again. âEr⊠Do you have to know?â His response was almost immediate, âYes.â
You internally groaned. Your immunity was your trump card. If you revealed everything, it meant giving up the privacy of every one of your thoughts. You would no longer have the upper hand.
You shook your head; you refused to meet your end here. It was either spill the truth, or it was your funeral. You chose the former. âWell, if I uhâ if I put in enough effort, I can turn my immunity off. Would youâ um⊠would you like me to try?â Truly, this was by far the most bizarre encounter you had. You felt like some backwater fanfiction character, stuttering and stumbling over your words.
The silence that followed made you cringe. You couldnât even distract yourself or break away from your little staring contest with Saiki. It didnât help that his eyes scared youâ like he saw right through you as if he could read you like an open book. It was unnerving. ââŠOkay.â You didnât realise that you were holding your breath until he spoke.
You were about to tell him that you needed physical contact to be able to turn your immunity off, and then an idea hit you. It was a bad idea, a terrible idea, and it could get you killedâ but if you succeeded, you were sure itâd be worth it.
You weighed the pros and cons before deciding you didnât care what would happen. Pranking Saiki, if you could even call it that, would not affect him if he was able to predict it with his telepathy. This would be the last time youâd be able to trick Saiki, so why not go for it? You were giving up your ability to think freely, after all. âLet me tell you a story before I turn it off.â You looked up at him with determination.
Saiki was not amused. He stared at you for a moment, then sighed before he relented. âFine. Hurry up and get it over with.â You werenât sure if it was a trick of the light, but for a second, it looked like his eyes gleamed with curiosity. You held yourself back from grinning. He was a fool! Heâd played right into your hands! You bit your cheek to resist the urge to snicker, lest you give yourself away too much.
Bringing your fist up to your mouth, you proceeded to clear your throat for dramatic effect. âA student trains whilst his master looks on. When the student notices his mentor, he turns to him and enquires whatâs wrong. The master replies that his time has come, and he must go.â Saiki looked about as interested as a rock, but from the way he was leaning forward ever so slightly, you could tell he wanted to know more.
You continued, âThe student became upset, claiming that he still needed guidance and that he couldn't do it without his teacher. Chuckling, his mentor admits that the student will surpass his teacher in no time, so he no longer needs help.â
You felt pretty good about the fact that youâd roped Saiki in. You decided then that if he chose to hack you to pieces for this, youâd be okay with it. In essence, what you were about to do was equivalent to rickrolling Saiki. âThe student denies this and says that his teacher has seen and done everything, so a mere student like himself canât surpass him.â
You wanted to catch Saiki completely off guard, and you were sure there was no way heâd see it coming. âThe teacher says that the student overestimates him. That there are things he has yet to do, sights he has yet to see. The student is now curious, so he asks what his teacher means by 'sights he has yet to seeâ.â
You could barely keep a straight face, but somehow, you pulled through without laughing at your joke. âThe teacher doesnât have much time left. As he begins to fade away, he says... 'I have never laid my eyes upon two pretty best friends⊠one of them was always unsightlyâ.â
You bit your lip, feeling your stomach expand as you held your laugh in until it dawned on him what you were referencing. To rub salt into the wound, you did your best to put on an accent as you continued, âI ainât ever seen two pretty best friends; itâs always one of 'em gotta be ugly.â
Saiki became visibly distressed as his lips parted in slight disbelief. This was the most expressive youâd seen him all week, and you decided in that moment it was well worth it. âEven now, I canât escape that godforsaken video⊠Everywhere I go, someone always has to think of it.â
You couldnât stop yourself even if you wanted to. You dissolved into cackles at his reaction, only stopping when Saiki menacingly moved to stand up from his chair. âI may be patient⊠but I am no saint.â You spluttered, trying to crawl backwards as you looked up at the psychic. âHanâ hang on!â
Saiki only stared down at you in mild distaste. "I will cleanse you off this earth.â You met his gaze with your own incredulous one. "Thatâ Thatâs not very cash money of you.â Telling him that joke was still worth it. You valued your life, sure, but clearly not enough to practice some self-restraint.
Before Saiki could corner you and do the deed kill you in cold blood, you quickly retaliated. âHey, waitâ wait! If it werenât for you turning back time every year, Iâd be old enough to drive! I wouldn't be slaving away, still trying to pass the same curriculum I know off by heart. Do you have any idea how much youâve cost me cause you used your abilities?! âŠNow weâre even.â You huffed once you were finished with your little rant, folding your arms across your chest.
That seemed to do the trick, as Saiki considered your words before taking a seat again on the chair in front of his desk. You raised an eyebrow at his actions. He was easily guilt-tripped, huh? How interesting. As they say, you learn something new every day. That could go in the memory bank for later use.
You put your hand in front of Saiki, palm side up. âAlright, letâs get this over with. Give me your hand.â He looked from you to your hand and then back. His reluctance was clear as day, causing you to exhale through your nose. âOh, come on! You asked me to show you and turn off my immunity, so give it.â You made 'grabby fingersâ at him, furthering your point. Saiki hesitated for a second before he sighed in defeat. âFine.â
Your tongue darted out to wet your lips unconsciously as you waited patiently for Saiki to place his hand in yours. When he did, you shoved down the thoughts that claimed how smooth and warm his hand was. Curse you, your tendency to be a touch-starved heathen and the pretty boy in front of you who was red flags all around. Now was not the time to be distracted!
You regulated your breathing, closing your eyes. 'Inhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, hold, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, exhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. InhaleâŠâ It didnât take long for the black that you were used to behind your eyelids to change to an image of Saiki holding your hand. The best way to describe the process was that it was close to an out-of-body experience. All you knew for sure was that you had no control over your actual body.
Despite everything being dark, you could see Saiki and yourself clearly, as if the two of you were illuminated. You turned your gaze downward at where the two of you were connected before observing the man. Thatâs when you noticed it. Thin strings, thousandsâ no millions of them, coming from his body and disappearing into the distance.
The maximum number of strings you had seen on a person had been around 3 or 4. You had never encountered someone with so many before. You were reminded in that moment that Saiki was the most powerful human on earth. As if there was any before, but there was no doubt about it after this.
There were so many broken strings between you and Saiki that you were unsure which one would switch off your immunity to his telepathy. This whole process of 'turning it off' was basically a visual guessing game. The only thing you could do was trust your intuition since that worked for you majority of the time.
The thin strings that stuck out of Saikiâs temple caught your attention; there may have been ten or so of them, and a few strings coming through his eyelashes, tangled in the mix. It had to be one of themâ your gut feeling told you so. It was now or never, so you willed them to connect with you, for the strings to mend. The process took longer than usual, a given since Saiki was such a powerful esper.
Once you were done and finally opened your eyes, you realised you were clenching your teeth. The headache that hit you was expected, and you were grateful you were on the floor. If you had been standing, you would have fallen already.
You rubbed at your forehead, your fingers trying to lessen the pain by massaging your temples. âThere. That should do it. Try using your telepathy on me.â You didnïżœïżœïżœt notice Saikiâs stare or the look of mild concern he shot your way; too busy trying to ease your migraine.
'Can you hear me?â You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of Saikiâs voice reverberating inside your brain. The heavy furrow between your brow relaxed somewhat when you realised that your headache was gone. How? You had no idea. 'Wahhh, your voice is echoing in my head. This is weird.â
âSo, it does work.â There was a slight difference between Saiki using his telepathy only on you and him using telepathy to speak, the slight echo. It was so minuscule that one wouldnât notice unless they were looking for it. The only similarity was that both times, he hadnât moved his mouth. Until now, Saikiâs lips had moved when he addressed you. It was weird, knowing that he communicated with you now without moving a muscle.
You surmised that he was talking to you telepathically now. Did that mean others could hear, too, or was it just one person at a time or something? You got rid of the mental image of Saiki turning to everyone in class to repeat himself until everyone heard, as soon as it appeared. Noâ they could probably hear him if they were close enough; he was the most potent psychic youâd seen, after all.
Saiki nodded as if to confirm your suspicions. He folded his arms over his chest as he gazed down at you. "Iâm talking to you telepathically, but itâs different. Anyone in hearing distance will be able to pick up on the sound of my voice.â He had read your mind, hadnât he? He answered your questions without you having to say them aloud.
Having thought it up yourself was one thing, and having him agree with your deductions was another. It was similar to having a theory about a show and then later finding out that it was canon. You landed somewhere between feeling awe and slight shock.
"You're that in tune with your powers? Unbelievable. Do youâ Do you have any more abilities?â You were on the edge of your seat because this topic absolutely fascinated you. The sense of danger and fear you once felt when near Saiki was nowhere to be found.
You wondered why since it was only 10 minutes ago that you wanted to get as far away from him as possible. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say, but satisfaction always brings it back, so were you really in the wrong? âI have multiple powers. Telekinesis, levitation, x-ray vision, clairvoyance, astral projection, pyrokinesis, mind control, psychometrics, and invisibility are a few I can name off the top of my head. Only one of which works on you.â
Your lips parted, and you werenât sure how exactly you were supposed to feel after being bombarded with such information. The number of powers Saiki possessed would explain why you had seen so many strings on him before. âSeriously? Are you sure youâre human?â
âI'm just your average high school.â You would've assumed he was humble, but the way he was adamant made you think he was trying to convince himself, too. To each their own, though. If he wanted to be average, then who were you to fault him?
You wondered if it was your place to say what was on your mind before you abandoned the thought. Why did it matter? He knew what you were thinking anyway. Damn, most people could only dream of the abilities Saiki had, but surely being that powerful came with a price.
You had your powers, and if you hadn't experienced them first-hand, youâd think they were super cool, but you knew the burden. The grass wasnât always greener on the other side, and the law of equivalent exchange was true. To gain something, something else of equal must be lost. Maybe that was why Saiki was so emotionless, kinda like Mob from Mob Psycho 100.
âHow⊠how do you even live with a burden like that?â You popped the question that had been bugging you. When you took a peek at Saiki, your eyebrows raised in surprise when you realised that this was the most astonished youâd seen Saiki in the time youâd observed him, though he quickly regained his composure. âBurden? âŠWhy would you think itâs a burden?â He patiently waited for you to answer, and you found yourself gazing past his shoulder at the wall behind him.
âWell⊠if you look past the hype, then isnât it just troublesome? From how you act, Iâm guessing you have no control over your telepathy. Always knowing what others are thinkingâ even if you donât want to must be hard, no? I bet itâs spoiled a lot of movies and shows for you. Iâm guessing it makes it really hard to make friends, too, since no one can know about your powers.â You listed your reasons one by one. âOh.â
For once, you were being honest willingly. You may not have had psychic powers yourself, so you couldnât be certain Saiki agreed with your guesses, but you could at least try to sympathise. It was the same with you since your immunity had its ups and downs.
You didnât notice the silence that engulfed the room, too busy stuck in your thoughts. âIâm going to be blunt. Do you like me?â For a second, your mind short-circuited because you couldnât wrap your head around Saikiâs words. A flurry of questions filled your head. 'How did this happen?â, 'Why did it happen?â, 'Where am I?â, and 'Who am I?â, the norm. 'Get a grip!â You pulled yourself together before you replied. âWhat? Huh? Why would you even thinkââ
Saiki remained stoic, cutting you off so he could speak. âYou stopped all of Yumeharaâs plans when she tried to get closer to me.â So, maybe after his revelation, you could kind of, somewhat, maybe understand why he would jump to the conclusion that you liked him. It was reasonable if you looked at it from his point of view, but it was the furthest anyone could get from the truth.
You admitted to finding him attractive, sure, but that was because you had eyes that could see clearly. He was pretty; what else was there to say? It didnât go any further than that, though. You barely knew the guy! âYou noticed that? Uhâ no. No, I donât. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time... Multiple times.â
Knowing that he had psychic powers made it easy to understand how he had picked up on your behaviour at school. Saiki nodded, and you guessed that he was indicating that he believed you.
You were at a loss now of what you should do. How was one supposed to continue the conversation in this situation, again? âDonât tell a soul about what happened here today. I mean it. Iâll know if you breathe a word of this to anyone." You readily agreed to his request, signalling that youâd keep everything a secret; it's not like you went around airing people's dirty laundry anyway.
Before you had a chance to say anything else to Saiki, the sound of a notification from your phone drew your attention. Pulling the device out of your bag, you checked the lock screen to investigate. A text from a family member had let you know that there was a package for you.
'Thereâs a box full of coffee jelly. Give them out to your classmates so you can make more friends!â
You suspected that they bulk-brought coffee jelly from the supermarket so you could hand it out to your class after the weekend. You sighed; itâs not like you needed it. Besides, what would happen if your classmates didnât like the desert? Youâd rather not be humiliated by rejection.
"Coffee jelly?â You forgot Saiki could read your thoughts now. You lowered your phone to look at the psychic in question, raising your eyebrow. Even if his expression was neutral, his previously blank eyes were practically sparkling.
Did he⊠like coffee jelly? You decided to take the risk of asking him if he wanted some. It was easier to be rejected by an acquaintance (?) rather than a stranger. âDo you uhâ do you want some? I donât plan on handing them out to people or eating them all by myself. Theyâll go to waste⊠but if youâre willing to take them off my handsââ
âYes. Iâll take them.â Saikiâs response was instantaneous. You couldnât stop the slight smile of surprise that graced your lips. You hid it with your phone as you studied him. What a turn of events. There was no sign of the all-powerful esper you were used to. 'Heâs much less intimidating like this.â
âWell⊠do you wanna go to my place, then?â
â” â” â” â” â” â”Â
bonus:
Saiki returned to his house after a long day, making his way up the stairs to go to his room shortly after taking off his shoes. He thought back to the day's events, satisfied with the outcome.
Saiki would never admit it, but his favourability for you had sky-rocketed when you offered him coffee jelly. He guessed that it wasnât so bad that you knew of his powers now since it had ended with him getting his new favourite dessert.
You giving him the treat was enough for him to no longer consider you a nuisance. He would never tell you this in person, of course. He would rather die than let you find out he held you to a higher standard than his classmates now.
'Claiming my powers are a burden when anyone else would praise them⊠youâre interesting, l/n.â
Saiki decided not to dwell on his thoughts as he changed out of his uniform and got ready to go to bed.
At least now, he could finally read your mind. He no longer considered you dangerous, and with that, another disastrous day of his managed to meet a not-so-disastrous end.
â” â” â” â” â” â” Â Â Â â” â” â” â” â” â”
next part -Â Â Â metanoia
#saiki x reader#kusuo x reader#saiki k x reader#saiki kusuo x reader#saiki k#saiki kusuo#saiki kurumi#nendou riki#shun kaidou#hairo kineshi#yumehara chiyo#teruhashi kokomi#the disastrous life of saiki k.#friends to lovers#x reader#tdlosk
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me & you together song.
â iâve been in love with her for ages, and i canât seem to get it right. â
spencer reid x reader.
summary: youâve always assumed spencer reidâs love language was acts of service. flowers left at your desk. notes written only to you. every tuesday, he gave you your favorite bagel from downtown. you knew he was like this with the rest of the team, too. you didnât sweat it. you were focused on your job, and your job only. but when multiple instances occur over the course of a case, itâs hard to ignore both of your feelings for each other.
tags: grumpy fem!character x sunshine!spencer reid, friends to lovers, everyone knows but them, the bau literally bets when theyâll get together, no use of y/n, afab character, found family if you squint hard enough, spencerâs obsessed with her but wonât admit it to the public (the public is morgan), based on me & you together song by the 1975 btw, i wrote this while eating a doritos loco taco
word count: 2k
notes: i asked my best friends to give me a character and a trope. happy first post!
When you first landed the job as an agent at the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, you first told yourself not to get too attached. This was a job, after all. A career. A high risk one, that could end in fatalities and wounds that might never heal, cuts that will always bleed for the rest of eternity. Once you made it clear to yourself that you were to be civil with your coworkers âclose enough to be friendly, but not enough to go out for drinks on Saturday nightsâ and most important of all, do your job, and do it damn well, you poured yourself a glass of wine and watched the rest of the season of the sitcom youâve been meaning to finish.
However, with all of the ups and downs your job gave you, it could not have allowed for you to expect the boisterous chaos that were your coworkers. They welcomed you in not only with open arms, but open minds. They respected your boundaries, your ideas, everything about you. Your attempt at remaining just civil became useless after months, but looking back, how could you have tried any longer? Penelope gave you a big kiss on the cheek every week, exclaiming that she loved your outfits and needed to go shopping with you right that minute. Morgan ruffled your hair whenever he brought you coffee (despite your incessant dismay that now you needed to brush it again). Hotch, though not a fan of public displays, would murmur a reassuring, youâre doing well every time he returned a file back to you. And then there was Reid.
Spencer Reid.
Well, what was there to say about him?
Over time, youâve assumed that his love language must be acts of service. He brought you a bagel every week, sometimes more, from your favorite bagel shop downtown. Every Tuesday, a poppy seed bagel with extra plain cream cheese, extra toasted, cut in half so you could eat the middle dollop of cream cheese first. He made you mugs of tea whenever it grew past five pm because you told him that you had trouble falling asleep once months ago. Sometimes, small bouquets of wild grown flowers were left on your desk. At first, you thought it was Penelope being extra kind to you, or even Morgan playing a small joke on you. Both denied, but still giggled as you walked away. Whatever that meant. Behind your back, they secretly slipped each other five dollar bills.
You were sure he did the same for the rest of his coworkers, too. Youâve seen him refill coffee pots whenever Emily mentioned starting a new brew, and work extra hard on his reports in his free time to make sure Hotch or JJ didnât stay too late. You were on the same page, anyway. Friends. Civil. It didnât matter.
You huffed as you walked into the BAU, which was deemed more of a half jog, half marathon sprint. You hadnât bothered to check the weather before leaving, and on the walk from the subway station to the office, it had started downpouring. The sudden drops of cold from the sky had caused you to drop your half empty cup of coffee, and you had forgotten to grab the breakfast you made yourself the night before in the fridge. Not even Harry Stylesâ album blaring in your ears could have stopped you from turning the morning around. You grumbled simple good morningâs to everyone as you shook off your coat. Expecting to see your desk surrounded with papers that you were too tired to file in their intended drawers yesterday, you instead found a clean one; the papers were stashed in their designated places (in alphabetical order), the pens were compiled in the pouch you bought at Daiso years ago and cherished, even the trash under your desk was taken out. The only thing left to be seen on the wooden desk was a small brown bag that smelled of heaven and happiness and a folded piece of paper. You reached inside to find your usual poppy seed bagel the same as it always was. To make your Tuesday better. For you, always, the note read. You didnât need to decipher whose scribbles those belonged to. You forgot it was Tuesday.
âWhereâs my bagel, lover boy?â Morganâs voice boomed as the man sat on top of your desk, snatching the bag with a grin. Spencer only swiftly passed by the desk with ease, choosing to make eye contact with the carpet.
âGood morning, Dr. Reid. Happy Tuesday.â Spencerâs eyes divert to yours quickly. He only nods, responding with the same greeting. Happy Tuesday, honey.
Morganâs laugh carried throughout the room, swinging his legs as he spoke. âYou two make me sick, thatâs for sure. Can I have some of your bagel?â
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â You furrowed your brow in annoyance, which only made Morgan smile widely.
âDo you need to get your glasses checked again? You know, thereâs an optometrist across the streetââ
As you started to speak, Hotch walked from his office, announcing a new case and to meet in the room immediately. You got up swiftly, grabbing your bagel from Morganâs hands with a muttered asshole falling from your lips. It only made Morgan cackle loudly. You remind yourself to write a psych evaluation on Morgan after the case is over with.
On the first day of the case, you realized it was going to be a more difficult one than usual. You didnât panic. You never do. The second day, you worked harder than ever only to see little to no result. You continued not to sleep. It was like clockwork. Work, coffee, repeat. After three days, the case was far from settled. In fact, it seemed to only be getting worse with no ending in sight. Everyone was continuing to work in hopes that they would be home for the weekend. The fourth day, though, seemed to be the worst. The killer was getting more spontaneous with their kills, and the team seemed to keep showing up minutes after the kill had occurred. You were running on little to no sleep and were getting more frustrated with each move the killer made in silence. Near the end of the day, as you stared aimlessly at the wall in front of you, hoping it would make some sort of answer appear in front of your eyes, Hotch put a hand on your shoulder, You jumped slightly, trance be gone, when he told you to get back to the hotel immediately.
Immediately, you persisted. âIâm fine. Iâve almost got something. Iâm sure of something.â
âIâm not asking you.â
âHotchââ
âIâm ordering you, not only as your boss, but mostly as your friend. Your dark circles are getting concerning.â You tried to budge once more, but as Hotch gave one of his stern glares, you knew you were done with work for the day. âIâll get someone to drive you back. Wait here.â
Within seconds, Spencer appeared, replacing the previous figure of Hotch. Gently tapping your shoulder, he signaled for you to get up. With a flick of a wrist and a soft grin, he spun around a set of keys around his fingers. âHotch is letting me drive.â
You smiled. âDonât want Morgan to âvibe it?ââ
âHis definition of âvibing itâ is just turning on the sirens when he doesnât want to stop at a red light.â You walked side by side to the car. Your shoulders brushed ever so slightly due to Spencerâs hands in his pockets, but you didnât mind. You welcomed the warmth.
âYour definition is turning the volume up to 13 and calling it loud.â
âI would like to be able to hear when Iâm old, thank you very much. Any decibel over eighty and poof. Hearing. Out the window.â
âI really donât think playing Queen at any volume above 13 will kill you, Spence.â
âYou never know, honey.â Spencer opened the door for you, ushering you in before closing the door and getting in on the driverâs side. He pulled a cassette tape from his bag and pushed it in the radio; it started to softly play Queen while Spencer messed with the volume, setting it at 13 before driving away. It made a soft smile appear on your lips as your head leaned against the cool glass. Between the constant, soothing movement of the car or the way Spencerâs lips mouthed the lyrics of Good Old Fashioned Boy, it was hard to tell when the lines blurred and sleep drifted you away. The only thing you recognized before falling asleep were the unmistakable words that left Spencerâs mouth.
âGood night, honey. Love you.â
You woke up with a start the next morning. You had no idea how you got back into your hotel room, or how you were wearing your favorite sports shirt that you find comfort in sleeping in all of these years, though your mind directed each question back to the same person, of course. Your mind wandered to the night before; it was the most relaxed you had been all week, even if it was just the simple act of driving with Spencer. You had done it before in past cases âeven driven him back to his hotel at timesâ but this time felt different. Maybe it was the words that left his mouth.
âOh, good. Youâre awake.â Spencer suddenly walked in, holding bags in his arms. He set them down on the table, pulling out various assortments of breakfast foods and handing them to you. âNo bagel shops around here, but I did find some good pancakes if you want to eat now.â
âSpence.â You suddenly sat up straight, as if a revelation hit you.
âWhat? No pancakes? It came with hashbrowns, too.â
âSpencer.â You emphasized, getting him to look at you.
âYeah?â
âWhy do you do all of this for me?â
âWhat?â His head cocked to the side, not understanding.
âWhy do you⊠I mean⊠you go out of your way to do things for me. Unnecessary things. I need to know why.â
âUnnecessaryâŠ?â
âYou⊠you leave me flowers that are like, hand picked from a garden or the forest, or something not from the city. You clean my desk for me when Iâve left it too messy. You make me my favorite tea when Iâm at the office too late. You write me notes that are alluding but you wonât say what. I mean, Spence, you get me my favorite bagel every Tuesday. Why?â
His face suddenly turned serious as he sat next to you on the bed. âYou want to know why?â He repeated.
âI know you do these things for the rest of our team, but I just, I just donât get it.â
âBecause Iâm in love with you.â Spencer stared at you. âIâve been in love with you. I think Iâll always be at least a little in love with you, if Iâm being honest. I thought youâd catch on by now.â
ââŠWhat?â
âYeah, honey. I thought I was pretty obvious.â
âSo you meant what you said last night, then?â You said softly.
âI didnât mean for you to hear that. Really. I wouldâve said it better if I had known you were awake.â
âBut I did.â Your face grew closer to his. âAnd Iâm not upset about it. Because Iâm in love with you, too.â
Just as your lips began to brush, Spencer began to smile. âYou know what day it is, honey? Itâs our day.â
You smiled, too. âHappy Tuesday.â
You both tried to be subtle about it for the rest of the case. Weeks had passed by without the team knowing, but one slip up of a kiss on the cheek from Spencer on a Tuesday morning had led to an entire office full of chaos (and a meeting on workplace romance and consent from Hotch). You two didnât mind, though. It was bound to happen. Until Penelope turned to Morgan and yelled at him to cough up the fifty dollars he owed her, of course.
Happy Tuesday.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#lots of fluff#x reader#fanfiction#found family#grumpy sunshine
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đ đ«đđđ§-đđČđđ đŠđšđ§đŹđđđ«
paige bueckers x reader
wc: 6.8k
synopsis: Y/N and Paige Bueckers are caught in a tense moment after Paigeâs jealousy and neglect come to a head. With emotions running high, both struggle to navigate their complicated feelings, forcing them to confront the future of their relationship.
warnings: angst, jealousy, explicit sexual content, slight manipulation, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, slight violence (physical restraint)

a/n: i present to you... jealous paige bc this is one of my favorite tropes literally ever! this was 16 pages on google docs so i apologize for that, gonna go through all my posts and add warnings to them so i shall see you later <3

Youâre sprawled out on your bed, limbs heavy against the soft blanket, phone clutched in one hand. The screen casts a faint glow in the dim room, illuminating the furrow of frustration etched into your brow. Your thumb idly scrolls through your message thread with Paigeâa barren wasteland of unanswered texts. Each message feels like a tiny stone dropped into the pit of your stomach, adding to the growing weight.
Monday
Hey, howâd practice go? You alive?
Wednesday
I know youâre busy, but can we talk soon? Paige?
Friday
Cool. Guess Iâll take the hint.
You sigh heavily, locking your phone and tossing it onto the bed beside you. The device bounces slightly before settling face down, but your mind refuses to let it go. A sharp buzz suddenly cuts through the silence, jolting your heart into a sprint. For a fleeting moment, hope flickers. You snatch up the phone, only for disappointment to flood in when Jasmineâs name lights up the screen instead.
You swipe to answer, switching to speaker and tossing it back on the bed. âWhatâs up, Jas?â you say, your tone flat and lacking its usual warmth.
âClearly not you,â Jasmine replies, her voice teasing but tinged with concern. âYou sound like someone kicked your puppy. Is this about Paige again?â
You pause, chewing on your bottom lip, the weight of your emotions threatening to spill over.
âSheâs been ghosting me all week,â you finally admit, bitterness seeping into your voice like a slow drip. âI get that basketball keeps her busy, but is it really that hard to send one text? Like, âHey, sorry, canât talk right nowâ? Thatâs all Iâm asking. Itâs not rocket science.â
Jasmineâs incredulous tone comes through loud and clear. âWait. She hasnât responded at all? Not even a quick âHey, Iâm swampedâ?â
âNot a word,â you reply, the edge in your voice sharpening. âMeanwhile, sheâs out here talking about how much she likes me and how she wants to make things work. For what? So I can sit here, feeling like a damn afterthought, while she⊠I donât even know what sheâs doing anymore.â
âYou deserve so much better,â Jasmine says firmly, her voice a grounding presence.
âTell me about it,â you mutter, picking up your phone again despite yourself. Itâs a reflex, a bad habit you canât seem to break. You open Instagram, swiping through stories without purpose, when something stops you cold.
KKâs latest post dominates the screen. Itâs a picture of the team crammed into a booth at Tedâs, smiles wide and carefree. Paige is smack in the middle, holding up Dirty Shirley, her grin so effortless itâs like she hasnât ignored a single text in her life. She looks happy. Relaxed. Completely unbothered.
The caption reads: âDubs only, baby! Turnt up with the squad đ.â
Your grip on the phone tightens as heat rises to your cheeks. Your jaw clenches involuntarily. So, she has time for this? Time to party, to hang out with her team, to go to Tedâs of all placesâyour spotâbut canât find two seconds to acknowledge you?
âUnbelievable,â you mutter under your breath, the words simmering with anger.
âWhat happened?â Jasmineâs voice snaps you back to reality.
âSheâs at Tedâs,â you say through gritted teeth. âWith the team. Laughing, drinking, looking like life is perfect while Iâm over here wondering if she fell off the face of the Earth.â
âOh, hell no,â Jasmine says, her indignation matching your own. âShe thinks she can ignore you and get away with it? Nope. Get up, put on your hottest outfit, and remind her who the hell you are.â
You sit up, heart pounding as the idea takes root. Your glare is fixed on KKâs post, as if staring at it hard enough might erase the image entirely. Locking your phone, you toss it onto the bed before swinging your legs over the side.
âYou know what?â you say, your voice steady and laced with resolve. âMaybe I will.â
The moment youâve had enough, something shifts inside youâlike a fire being reignited. The frustration thatâs been simmering all evening finally boils over, and you grab your phone with newfound determination. Sitting upright on your bed, you unlock the screen, your fingers flying across the keyboard with practiced ease.
Yâall down for Tedâs tonight? Need backup.
The message is direct, no frills. This isnât just a night outâitâs a mission.
Jasmineâs reply comes almost instantly, as if sheâs been waiting for an excuse to hit the town. Say less. On my way in 20. Her energy is palpable even through a text.
Seconds later, Veronica chimes in: Iâm in. Letâs cause some trouble. Her signature wink emoji follows, and you canât help but smirk.
Finally, Serenaâs response lights up your screen with a single word: Bet. Short, sweet, and packed with confidence.
With your friends locked in, you toss your phone onto the bed and head straight to your closet. Itâs time to make a statementâone thatâs impossible to ignore. You stand in front of your wardrobe, fingers brushing over hangers as you mentally critique each option. Too casual. Too plain. Too predictable.
After what feels like an eternity, your hand lands on the one. Itâs bold, sleek, and undeniably sexyâa figure-hugging dress that accentuates all the right places and practically demands attention. You pull it off the hanger, holding it up in front of the mirror. The deep color complements your skin perfectly, and the hem does the absolute minimum in covering the bottom of your ass.
You slip into it carefully, smoothing the fabric over your body and adjusting it until it fits like a second skin. Taking a step back, you examine yourself in the mirror, tilting your head as a small smile plays on your lips. You look good. Noâscratch that. You look amazing. But tonight, looking amazing isnât enough. You want to turn heads. You want Paige to feel it.
Not done yet, you move to your vanity, flipping on the lights. Your makeup bag sits waiting, and you dive in with practiced precision. First, a flawless base, smooth and glowing, like your skin was kissed by the perfect Instagram filter. You follow with a contour that defines your features, giving you a sharp, sculpted look. Then comes the winged liner, bold and dramatic, with a flick so precise it could cut glass. Smokey eyeshadow enhances the look, making your gaze impossible to ignore, and a high-shine gloss adds the perfect finishing touch to your lips.
You lean back, giving yourself a final once-over in the mirror. Every detail is on point, down to the faint shimmer of highlighter catching the light on your cheekbones. Itâs flawless, if you do say so yourself.
As youâre spritzing on your favorite perfumeâa scent both intoxicating and unforgettableâyour phone buzzes again. Jasmineâs text reads: Outside. Letâs do this.
You slip on your favorite pair of chunky, heeled boots, the ones that make you feel like you own every room you walk into, and grab your bag. The rhythmic click of your heels on the pavement mirrors your determination as you stride out to Jasmineâs car.
Sliding into the passenger seat, youâre met with a low whistle from Jasmine. âDamn, girl,â she says, giving you an approving once-over. âAre you trying to destroy someone tonight?â
You smirk as you buckle your seatbelt, tossing your bag onto your lap. âNot destroy. Just remind a certain someone what sheâs about to lose.â
Jasmineâs laugh fills the car as she reaches over for a fist bump. âNow that is the energy I needed. She wonât know what hit her.â
The ride to Tedâs feels electric. The bass of the music pulses through the car, a perfect soundtrack to your rising confidence. Jasmine keeps hyping you up the whole way, stealing glances at you every so often.
âYou look so good, youâre probably going to start a fight,â she teases with a grin.
You meet her eyes with a smirk, adjusting a strand of hair in the mirror. âGood,â you say, your voice dripping with confidence. âLet her be mad. Sheâs got it coming.â
Jasmineâs laughter rings out, blending with the music as the two of you pull into the crowded parking lot. The neon sign for Tedâs glows against the night sky, and the hum of voices and laughter spills out into the cool evening air.
You step out of the car with purpose, adjusting your outfit one last time as your heels click against the asphalt. One final glance in the carâs side mirror confirms what you already know: youâre a vision, and tonight, youâre a force to be reckoned with.
Tedâs wonât know what hit it. And neither will Paige.
The low buzz of voices and the faint clinking of glasses hit you the moment you step into Tedâs. The warm glow of string lights overhead bathes the packed bar in a golden hue, and the energy in the room is palpableâloud laughter, animated conversations, and the occasional cheer erupting from the direction of the pool table. Your heels click against the floor as you make your way in with Jasmine, Veronica, and Serena flanking you like a well-coordinated squad.Â
It doesnât take long to spot her. Paige is exactly where you expected, seated in a large booth near the back with Azzi, KK, Ice, and Jana. Sheâs dressed casually, black denim shorts, a black crop top, and an unbuttoned, white shirt, but she might as well be wearing a neon sign with the way she draws attention. Sheâs laughing, leaning back with her arm draped casually over the seat, completely at ease. You can see the sparkle in her eyes from here, even as she remains blissfully unaware of your presence.
The sight makes your stomach twist, but you shake it off. Tonight isnât about Paige. At least thatâs what you tell yourself.
âLetâs hit the bar,â you say, keeping your voice steady as you lead your friends in the opposite direction, deliberately ignoring the booth and the person in it.
The bartender greets you with a smile, and you order a couple rounds of shots for your group, letting Jasmine and the others hype you up as you throw them back the second theyâre placed in front of you. Once you feel enough of a buzz to quell your anxiety, you decide to settle for a mixed drink to sip on for the remainder of the night. It isnât long before you notice someone approaching, a tall, athletic-looking girl with broad shoulders and an easy grin. Sheâs wearing a fitted T-shirt and jeans, and the confidence in her stride is unmistakable.
âHey,â she says, leaning against the bar. Her voice is low, smooth. âYou look like youâre having more fun than anyone else here.â
You flash her a smile, tilting your head slightly. âYou could say that.â
Her grin widens, and she introduces herself, launching into a conversation that you quickly match. Her compliments come freelyâyour outfit, your laugh, even the way you carry yourselfâand you donât hold back, laughing a little louder than usual and letting your fingers brush against her arm as you talk.
Across the booth, KK nudges Paige, a look of concern flickering across her face. âUh, hey, isnât that Y/N?â she says, nodding toward the bar.
Paigeâs head snaps toward KK, her expression darkening as she follows her teammateâs line of sight. Her brows knit together as she takes in the sceneâyour effortless smile, the way you lean into the girlâs space, her hand resting on the bar just a little too close to yours. She recognizes the look in your eyes, itâs the same look she was on the receiving end of the first night you met.
âYeah,â Paige says shortly, her voice clipped. She sets her drink down with more force than necessary, her grip tightening around the glass before she looks away.
Meanwhile, you pretend not to notice the silent storm brewing across the room. You keep your focus on the girl in front of you, leaning in just enough to keep the conversation flowing, though you can feel the heat of Paigeâs jealousy from where you stand. It sends a thrill through you, equal parts satisfaction and spite.
As the girl laughs at something youâve said, you turn your head to the side slightly, trying to catch a glance at the booth where Paige sits. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her tense, her hand balling into a fist on the table as she murmurs something to Azzi.
You can feel it in the air, Paige is reaching her breaking point. And thatâs exactly what you wanted.
Paige sits stiffly in the booth, her grip on her drink tightening as her knuckles blanch. Her jaw works furiously, muscles twitching as if sheâs holding back an eruption. The sound of your laugh, airy and effortless, cuts through the din of the bar, and Paigeâs eyes flicker with barely concealed rage. Her teammates exchange uneasy glances, sensing the storm brewing beside them.
Azzi nudges KK and leans in. âUh, is she okay?â
KK shrugs, her voice low. âI donât think so.â
Paige suddenly stands, her movements sharp and deliberate. The scrape of her chair against the floor draws their attention.
âWhere are you going?â Azzi asks, concern softening her voice.
Paige doesnât look at her, her gaze fixed like a laser on you across the room. âIâll be back,â she mutters, her voice clipped.
She doesnât wait for a response, weaving through the crowd with purpose. Her steps are quick, her shoulders tight, and her eyes never leave you. Youâre at the bar, leaning casually against the counter, completely absorbed in your conversation with the tall, athletic-looking girl beside you. The girl leans in close, her hand grazing your arm as she says something that makes you throw your head back with a laugh.
Paigeâs chest tightens, and the corners of her vision blur with the heat of her jealousy. Each second feels like an eternity as she closes the distance, her blood boiling at the sight of the stranger getting a little too comfortable with you.
When she reaches you, she doesnât pause to think. Her arm snakes around your waist in one swift motion, pulling you firmly against her side. The sudden contact makes you gasp, your conversation abruptly cut off. The flirty girl takes a step back, startled and clearly intimidated by Paigeâs possessive presence.
âWeâre leaving,â Paige says, her tone low and commanding. Her words are sharp enough to slice through the tension in the air.
You turn your head sharply, blinking in surprise as your eyes meet hers. The fire in her gaze burns so brightly it could scorch you, but youâre too stubborn to back down. âNow you have time to talk to me?â you ask, drawing the sentence out with deliberate sarcasm. âI think Iâm fine right here.â
Paigeâs jaw ticks, but she doesnât respond. Instead, her arm tightens around your waist, her fingers pressing firmly into your side. Itâs a silent warning, one you choose to ignore as you plant your feet against her attempts to steer you toward the door.
âPaige, what the hell?â you protest, your voice rising with irritation.
âNot here,â she snaps, her tone cold and final. Her grip remains unrelenting as she continues to lead you away from the bar.
Your friends notice the commotion, Jasmine standing halfway out of her seat. âY/N, are you good?â she calls, her brows furrowed with concern.
You twist in Paigeâs hold just enough to look back at them, throwing a hand up in a dismissive wave. âIâll text you!â you shout over your shoulder, your voice dripping with frustration.
Paige doesnât slow her pace until the two of you are outside, the cool night air biting at your skin. She releases you near her car, and you immediately step back, glaring at her.
âSeriously, Paige?â you snap, your voice sharp as you cross your arms over your chest. âYou think you can just show up, ruin my night, and drag me out like this?â
Paigeâs nostrils flare as she turns to face you fully, her expression thunderous. âI think I just did.â
Eventually you arrive at her apartment, and she has to practically pull you out of her car by your arm. The second you step into Paigeâs entryway, you rip your arm out of her grip with enough force to make her stumble slightly. You spin around to face her, your chest heaving with frustration. The door slams shut behind you, echoing through the space like a gunshot.
âWhat the hell is your problem, Paige?â you shout, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. Your words are sharp, fueled by anger thatâs been simmering for days.
Paige whirls around to face you, her face already twisted in fury. âMy problem?â she fires back, her voice rising to match yours, letting out a humorless chuckle. âYouâre out there all over some random girl, and youâre asking me what my problem is?â
You take a step closer, refusing to back down. âYeah, I am! Because you ignore me all week, and the second I talk to someone else, you suddenly care? Make it make sense, Paige!â
She runs both hands through her hair, pacing in jerky, frustrated strides between the door and the counter. âDo you know how insane it made me to see you with her?â she snaps, her words laced with raw, unfiltered emotion. âLaughing, touching her, looking like you were having the time of your life? Like I didnât even exist?â
You laugh bitterly, the sound sharp and humorless as you cross your arms over your chest. âThatâs rich, Paige. At least she actually talked to me, which is more than Iâve gotten from you in weeks.â
The room feels charged, every word hanging heavy in the air, but Paige isnât done. She steps forward again, her voice low and rough with frustration. âYou think I donât care? You think I donât want to talk to you? Youâre all over her, touching her like it doesnât matter, and itâs driving me crazyâ"
âGee, sounds like you finally get it,â you fire back, your words sharp with bitterness. âBut hey, donât worry, Iâll stop talking to people if itâll make you feel better. Maybe next time, Iâll just sit in the corner and wait for you to remember Iâm here, like some sad little backup plan.â
You turn your head, preparing to walk out, but before you can take a single step, Paigeâs hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist with a force that stops you in your tracks. Your heart pounds in your chest as you turn to face her, ready to throw another snarky remark her way.
But before you can speak, sheâs there, bringing her hands to grab both sides of your face, her lips crashing into yours with an intensity that takes you by surprise. You freeze for a split second, then instinct kicks in. You try to pull away, pushing against her chest with as much force as you can muster.
But she doesnât let up. Her kiss deepens, her hand sliding to the back of your neck, keeping you in place. The anger youâve been carrying fades, replaced with confusion and something else you canât quite name. You can feel her tension, her frustration, her need for somethingâmaybe an answer, maybe redemption.
She slides one of her hands down to anchor around the front of your throat, her other hand drifting to grab at your hip through the thin material of your dress. She slowly starts to back you towards her kitchen, not stopping until the top of your ass is pressing against the island counter. She brings both hands to your hips, tapping the side of your ass with one hand, encouraging you to jump, and roughly squeezing your hip with the other.
A soft gasp escapes your lips as she lifts you effortlessly onto the cool marble countertop. Her hands slide possessively up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress higher. She steps forward, wedging herself between your parted legs.
"You look so fucking good in this dress," she says, her voice low and thick with desire. One hand slips under the fabric to caress the bare skin of your hip while the other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat.
She dips her head, warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin before her lips press against your racing pulse. Your back arches as she nips at the delicate skin, soothing the pinch with her tongue and surely leaving a mark. A breathy moan fills the air and it takes you a moment to realize it came from you.Â
Her lips trail lower, peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. You shiver as her tongue flicks out to taste your skin. The hand on your hip slides inward, fingertips skimming teasingly along the inside of your thigh.Â
You wrap your legs around her waist, pulling her in closer, desperate for more contact. She chuckles darkly against your throat, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure racing down your spine. "I love it when you get like this," she murmurs approvingly. "All desperate and needy."
To punctuate her point, she rolls her hips, grinding against your center. The pressure and friction draw a keening whimper from your lips. Your hands fly up to grip her strong shoulders, nails digging into taut muscle through her shirt.Â
Her lips glide over your skin, a delicate yet fervent touch, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. As she moves up from your jawline, each kiss ignites a spark, and her breath, hot and teasing, touches your neck, sending shivers racing down your spine. "I've been thinking about having you like this all night," she murmurs.
You whimper as her hands skim higher, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the thin fabric. She captures your lips in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim your mouth, leaving you breathless and aching for more.Â
She reaches up to pull your dress down, revealing your bare breasts. Her lips immediately latch onto one of your nipples, sucking and biting it gently. You arch into her touch, a moan escaping your parted lips as she places full attention on the sensitive bud. Her tongue flicks and swirls, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.Â
Her other hand palms your neglected breast, kneading the supple flesh. She rolls the pebbled nipple between her fingers, pinching and tugging in time with the ministrations of her mouth, each pull sending another rush of heat flooding your body.
"So pretty, baby," she says, the words vibrating against your skin. She gives your nipple one last hard suck before trailing her lips across your chest to the other breast, circling her tongue around the straining peak. Her mouth is relentless, her tongue swirling and flicking over your nipple until itâs aching, her teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. Her free hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing the curve of your hip before slipping between your thighs. Youâre already wet, your panties soaked through, and she groans against your skin as her fingers brush over the damp fabric.
Your head falls back as you cry out, hands fisting in her silky hair to hold her close. She smirks against your skin, clearly enjoying the reactions she's pulling from your trembling body. Your back arches involuntarily, pressing your body closer to hers as you desperately seek more of her touch, the sound of her soft chuckle making you shudder with pleasure.
"Patience," she whispers, the word barely audible as her fingers trace lazy circles around your clit through the lace of your underwear. The sensation is frustrating, and you can't help but whimper, your hips bucking involuntarily in search of more contact.
You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs, your body responding to her touch in ways you never thought possible. You already know she's jealous, you saw the way she looked at you earlier when you were talking to that other girl. But you can't help but feel thrilled at the way she's touching you now, as if she's trying to claim you as her own.
You lean back on your hands, your eyes locked on Paige's as she continues to tease you. Her gaze is intense, fiery, and you can see the possessiveness in her eyes. It sends a thrill down your spine, making you even more turned on.Â
"You're mine," Paige murmurs, her voice low and husky, filled with an undeniable possessiveness. The words send a thrill throughout your body, making your heart race with excitement. âSay it.â
"I'm yours," you whisper back, your voice barely audible as the tension builds within you. You can feel the pressure growing more and more intense, your body aching for release.Â
Paige's fingers finally slip under the waistband of your underwear, making contact with your sensitive skin. The feeling is electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You cry out, your hips bucking wildly as she begins to stroke you. Her touch is firm and confident, her fingers expertly finding your most sensitive spots.
You feel yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm, your body trembling with anticipation. Paige's gaze is locked on yours, her eyes filled with a fierce intensity that makes you feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time.
She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, "Come for me, baby."
And with those words, you finally let go, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cry out her name. Paige holds you close, her fingers still moving rhythmically as you ride out your orgasm. As the waves of your orgasm begin to subside, Paige pulls her fingers away from your clit.Â
Before you can fully catch your breath, Paige is on you again. She moves with a speed and agility that takes you by surprise, pushing your back onto the counter with a force that leaves you momentarily stunned.
Your body splayed out beneath her, you feel a thrill of excitement run through you. You're completely at her mercy, and the thought is intoxicating. Paige's hand makes its way back to your throat, her grip firm and unyielding. She pins you to the counter by your throat, her body pressing against yours as she holds you in place.
You gasp at the sudden change in position, your heart racing with a combination of fear and excitement. The feeling of being completely dominated by Paige is both terrifying and exhilarating, sending a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.Â
Paige's other hand slides back between your legs, her fingers finding your entrance with ease. You can feel yourself growing wetter with each passing moment, your body responding instinctually to her touch. She finds your g-spot easily, her fingers curling and pressing against it with just the right amount of pressure. You moan softly, your hips bucking as she begins to stroke you, her movements slow and deliberate at first, before building up to a feverish pace.Â
But sheâs not content with just bringing you to orgasm. She wants to claim you, to mark you as hers in every way possible. And as she continues to finger you, her grip on your throat tightening ever so slightly, you know that you're completely and utterly hers.
Paige's movements become more insistent, her fingers moving faster and harder as she brings you closer and closer to the edge. You can feel yourself teetering on the brink of another orgasm, your body writhing and bucking beneath her touch. Your breath comes in short, ragged gasps as she continues, her movements growing more frantic as she feels your body starting to give in to the pleasure. âPaige, I canât⊠itâs too much.â
âNah, baby, Iâve been so mean to you this week, I just wanna make it up to you.â You moan louder now, your voice echoing through the room as Paige brings you to new heights of pleasure. Your body feels like it's on fire, every nerve ending sparking with pleasure. âCâmon, I know you can take it.â
And then, with one final stroke, you reach the peak of your orgasm, your body convulsing and shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. Paige's fingers continue to move inside you, prolonging your orgasm and sending you spiraling into new heights of ecstasy. When it's all over, you collapse back onto the counter, your body spent and satisfied. Paige pulls her fingers away, a satisfied smirk on her face as she looks down at you, bringing her fingers to her mouth to suck at the remnants of your orgasm.
âDonât look at me like that,â you snap, your voice sharper than you intended, though the heat in your cheeks betrays your embarrassment. You quickly move to fix your dress, suddenly feeling self-conscious now that the moment is over.
âIâm not looking at you like anything,â Paige replies, her voice steady but softer than usual. Still, her gaze doesnât waver, her blue eyes fixed on you.
The silence in the apartment feels suffocating, filled with the weight of everything unspoken. The distant hum of the refrigerator is the only sound, an almost mocking contrast to the charged tension between you. Sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter, you swing your legs idly, trying to feign a casualness you donât feel. The cool surface beneath you does little to soothe the heat creeping up your neck as Paige stands in front of you, close enough that her presence seems to fill the room.
When you finally look at her, expecting that same smug, self-satisfied smirk sheâs perfected, youâre caught off guard. Her expression isnât cocky; itâs something else entirely. The spark of amusement is gone, replaced by something heavier, something raw. Her blue eyes hold yours, steady and searching, as if sheâs trying to find the words buried somewhere between you.
Paige shifts slightly, her hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs. She takes a breath, her chest rising and falling in a way that betrays the steady confidence she usually exudes. For a split second, it feels like the world narrows down to just this moment, just the two of you.
Her voice finally breaks the silence, low and uncharacteristically serious. âYou know we need to talk about everything.â
The words hang between you, heavy and undeniable. Her tone is firm but carries a vulnerability that makes your stomach twist. Sheâs not brushing this off or dancing around it like you half-expected. No teasing grin, no playful deflectionâjust a directness that makes it impossible to pretend this is something you can both walk away from unscathed.
Paige shifts her weight slightly, standing even closer now, the space between your legs shrinking until thereâs barely any left. The warmth of her body radiates against you, and you suddenly feel hyper aware of every inch of space she occupies. Her eyes donât leave yours, and you can tell sheâs waiting, giving you the chance to push her awayâor pull her closer.
But the way she looks at you, so open and unguarded, makes it hard to do either. Itâs a stark contrast to the Paige who had been ignoring your texts all week, and yet, it feels so achingly familiar. Youâre torn between wanting to stay guarded and giving in to the pull of the moment. Finally, you arch an eyebrow, your voice steady despite the swirl of emotions threatening to surface.
âOkay,â you say, your tone more challenging than you intended. âStart talking.â
Paigeâs shoulders stiffen, and for a second, you think she might retreat into that wall of stoicism she hides behind so well. But then her jaw tightens, and she steps even closer, her closeness making your nervousness spike, but you donât flinch, meeting her gaze head-on.
âI canât stand seeing you with someone else,â she says, her words thick with frustration. âI donât want you flirting, laughing, or even looking at anyone but me. I want you, Y/N. Only you. I want us to be exclusive. Iâll do better. Just⊠donât ever do that again.â
Your breath catches, and you almost flinch at how accurately her words cut to the truth. Still, you say nothing, giving her the space to continue.
âI messed up,â she begins, her voice quiet but deliberate. âI know Iâve been distant. I know Iâve made you feel like youâre not important to me, like basketball or⊠anything else in my life comes before you.â
You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to maintain your composure, the snarky defense youâve built up around yourself threatening to crack. You cross your arms, fighting to keep the sarcasm in your voice, even though your insides are a tangled mess of emotions.
âExclusive, huh?â you challenge, your voice sharp, almost taunting, as you raise an eyebrow. Your arms are crossed tightly over your chest, creating a barrier between you and the vulnerability sheâs suddenly laying at your feet. âAnd what happens when basketball gets in the way again? When Iâm just another item on your to-do list?â
Paige flinches, just barely, but you catch it. The slight crack in her usually unshakable confidence stirs something in youâsatisfaction, maybe, or guilt. You canât quite tell. Her jaw tightens, the muscles working as if sheâs biting back the first response that comes to mind. Instead, her gaze shifts, no longer carrying the frustration or defensiveness youâve grown used to. Instead, thereâs something softer, rawer, in the way she looks at you now. The intensity of her eyes locks you in place, her expression quietly pleading yet resolute.
âIâm not going to let that happen again,â Paige says, her voice low and steady. âI know Iâve screwed up before. Iâve made you feel like youâre not a priority, like youâre just⊠there, waiting for me to fit you in.â She pauses, the weight of her own admission hanging heavily between you. âBut thatâs not how I see you. Thatâs not what I want us to be.â
Her words hit you harder than you expected. Thereâs no rehearsed apology, no empty promises. Just a raw honesty that feels like sheâs peeling back the layers sheâs kept hidden from everyone else. Your heart twists, torn between holding onto your frustration and the pull of what sheâs offering.
You narrow your eyes, unwilling to let her off the hook so easily. âAnd how do I know this isnât just another one of your moments? That it wonât be the same cycle all over again?â
Paige exhales, her shoulders rising and falling with the weight of your skepticism. âBecause I donât want to lose you,â she says simply, her tone almost breaking. âBecause when I saw you with her tonight, it felt like the ground was being ripped out from under me. I donât want to feel that again, Y/N. I donât want you to ever feel like youâre not enough, or that youâre not worth my time.â
Youâre still sitting on the counter, and the height difference gives you a brief sense of power, though it doesnât last long under the intensity of her gaze.
âYouâre not some item on a list,â she continues, her voice softening as she tilts her head to meet your eyes. âYouâre the list, Y/N. Youâre the one thing that matters more than all of it. And if that means I have to rearrange my life, show up differently, or prove it to you every single day, then thatâs what Iâll do.â
The vulnerability in her words catches you off guard. For a moment, all the anger and bitterness youâve been clinging to starts to loosen its grip. Still, youâre not ready to let her win that easily. You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly as if to study her, daring her to flinch under your scrutiny.
âYouâre really laying it on thick, Bueckers,â you quip, though the usual sharpness in your tone is softened by the faintest hint of a smirk.
Paigeâs lips twitch upward, a flicker of her usual confidence returning. âThatâs because I mean it,â she counters, her voice steady. âIâm not going to let you walk away from thisânot without fighting for you.â
Youâre quiet for a moment, the air between you charged with unspoken feelings and the lingering tension of everything thatâs gone unsaid for far too long.
âSo, youâre telling me Iâm the priority now?â you ask, your voice quieter this time, a little softer, though you keep your arms crossed in a weak attempt to shield yourself. Thereâs hesitation in your tone, an uncertainty you canât quite hide, but the words still slip past your lips. âNot basketball, not your schedule, not the team?â
Paige doesnât flinch. She doesnât waver. Her blue eyes hold yours with an intensity that pins you in place, her conviction written all over her face. âYes,â she says, her voice steady, as though the truth of it is something sheâs carried for a long time. âYou. Only you, Y/N.â
You look down at where her hands rest, then back up to meet her eyesâthose piercing blue eyes that seem to hold nothing but honesty and a hint of fear, as if sheâs bracing for your rejection. Your defenses falter. The weight of her confession, the raw emotion in her voice, the way sheâs standing there, so vulnerableâit all seeps into the cracks of your resolve. Slowly, your arms drop to your sides, the tension in your shoulders easing as you exhale a shaky breath.
âPaige,â you murmur, your voice quieter now, fueled with something more forgiving. âIf you screw this upââ
âI wonât,â she interrupts, her voice firm but not forceful. Her hands slide up slightly, resting on your hips now, anchoring herself to you. âI swear to you, Y/N. I wonât.â
You hold her gaze for another long moment, searching her face for any sign of doubt. But all you see is determinationâdetermination and something deeper, something so achingly familiar it makes your heart clench.
âOkay,â you whisper, the word barely audible, but itâs enough. Enough to make Paigeâs expression soften, her shoulders relax, and a spark of hope flicker in her eyes.
Her grip on your hips tightens slightly as she steps closer, standing between your legs, her face just inches from yours now. âOkay?â she repeats, as if she canât quite believe it.
âOkay,â you say again, your voice steadier this time. You tilt your head slightly, a small, almost teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. âBut youâd better back it up, Bueckers. Iâm not making this easy for you.â
Paige chuckles softly, a sound filled with relief and affection. âI wouldnât expect anything less.â
Before you can respond, she leans in, her hands sliding up to cup your face gently, her thumbs brushing against your cheeks. She hesitates for the briefest moment, giving you a chance to pull away, but when you donât, she closes the distance.
The kiss is slow at first, almost tentative, as if sheâs trying to convey everything she canât put into words. But it doesnât take long for the intensity to build, for her to pour every ounce of her emotions into the connection. Her lips move against yours with a mix of passion and desperation, and you can feel her heartbeat pounding in sync with your own.
Your hands find their way to her shoulders, then slide up to thread through her hair, pulling her closer as you kiss her back with just as much fervor. The tension, the anger, the frustration of the past week melts away, replaced by a warmth that spreads through your chest like wildfire.
When she finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, foreheads resting together. Paigeâs eyes search yours, her lips curling into a small, almost shy smile. âIâll make it up to you, Y/N. Every day. Youâll see.â
You canât help but smile back, your fingers still tangled in her hair. âYouâd better,â you reply, your tone soft but teasing. âBecause Iâm holding you to it.â
Paige grins, and for the first time in what feels like forever, it feels like everything is falling into place.

#paige buckets#paige bueckers#paige bueckers fic#uconn huskies#paige bueckers x reader#uconn wcbb#wcbb#wlw fanfic#wlw post#uconn x reader
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vi. i need to want something more (the end)



synopsis: after a rare drunken night, y/n wakes up in bed next to the most untouchable girl at yonsei: karina. sheâs immediately thrown into a mess she never wanted, torn between her own moral compass and the undeniable pull of something she doesnât understand. some lines, once crossed, can never be undone.
w/c: 10k+
warnings: heavy cheating, implied sex, alcohol, smoking, just normal uni stuff, swearingggg, slow burn
a/n: so here it isâŠwas a long time coming; i appreciate all of you who stuck around long enough to see the end it. there will be no fics for awhile as i work on editing my older stuff â figured i need to show those a bit of love and polishing too. this series has so much potential to become more, iâll keep my ears open in the future. always enjoy reading your takes on this chapter, so please let me know how you feel about it :)
â§ïœ„ïŸ: *â§ïżœïżœïżœïŸ:*
the light wakes you first. not the usual pale grey cast of a seoul morning, but something softer, whiter. your breath is visible in the sliver of air between your duvet and your face.
the heaterâs still warming up â typical. you stay curled beneath the covers a few seconds longer, blinking toward the window, where the light presses through the glass differently now.
you already know.
when you sit up, youâre met with the seasonâs first snowfall. itâs not heavy yet, still a delicate sheet of white layered over the pavement and trees outside.
the world is slower; even the wind is holding its breath.
you get up barefoot, stepping around the pile of laundry near your desk, your laptop still open from last night. giselle flew back to japan last week and yunjin left a post-it note on your side table saying she was grabbing coffee with ryujin. theyâll probably be out for hours.
you should make coffee, maybe start reading that case brief youâve avoided all week. instead, you stare out the window a while.
the trees outside are really bare now, snow clinging to every branch like a second skin. you reach for your phone and snap a quick photo.
your fingers hover for a moment before sending it to your parents.
first snow of the season! âïž
they had invited you to join them in switzerland for the holidays; some rental cabin overlooking a frozen lake, something out of a postcard. you told them you had too much to finish here; that much was true.
the reply comes quickly.
from: dad đš
beautiful! mum says bundle up. sheâs already trying to book you a plane ticket despite your answer still being a firm no. đ
you smile, a little and your screen dims again.
and then it buzzes.
from: sana đ©”
you still like watching the snow fall from windows?
something shifts in your chest as you stare at her name for a moment â warm and uncertain. before you can think about it too hard, you hit call.
she answers before the second ring.
âhi,â you greet, still watching the snowfall.
âhi,â she replies, voice soft and all. she sounds like sheâs speaking from under a warm blanket. âyouâre up early.â
âsnow woke me.â
âhmm,â she hums. âme too, actually.â
you donât say anything for a second, just listen to her breathing through the speaker because thereâs something grounding about it.
âdo you want to come over?â
she pauses, then says: âonly if we get breakfast first.â
you smile, small and real. âour usual?â
âof course.â
you end the call and move slowly through your morning â brushing your teeth, pulling on layers, rubbing moisturiser into your face with hands that still feel half asleep. you stare at your reflection for a beat too long; thereâs colour in your cheeks from the cold and your hairâs a little flat, but you look more like yourself lately.
or someone you recognise, anyway.
as you zip up your coat, you think of sana. how sheâs never asked you to call this anythingâŠor make you feel like you owe her certainty you donât have.
and still â she shows up.
you think about how easy it would be to keep building this quiet version of love, one morning at a time. back then, you thought maybe the whole world would bend if you just stayed still beside her long enough.
you could get used to whatever this is again.
eventually, a car horn honks twice. when you step outside, the snow crunches beneath your boots. sheâs already out of the car, walking toward you with a knit beanie pulled low over her ears. her breath clouds in the air.
the first thing she does is reach for your scarf.
âyou still donât know how to do this properly?â she mutters, unwrapping it halfway to re-loop it snug around your neck. âevery year, itâs the same issue.â
âyouâre just controlling,â you mumble, lips chapped and numb.
âyou would freeze to death without me,â she shakes her head, focusing on the knot. her fingers are cold when it brushes against your neck.
thereâs snow caught in her lashes and her cheeks are pink from the cold.
her hair is pulled back loosely, a few strands stuck to her collar. and sheâs not looking at you. sheâs still focused on that damn scarf. you study her face up close; how her brows knit together in concentration and how beautiful she is when she doesnât know youâre looking.
âyouâre pretty.â
she blinks and looks up; the corners of her mouth twitching. âdonât.â
you grin. âjust saying.â
âyouâre annoying.â she tugs your scarf tighter and gently shoves your shoulder before turning to the car. you follow, heart warmer than your gloves. âcome on.â
the drive to itaewon is short and mostly quiet. the windows fog slightly and she draws a little heart in the glass with her knuckle at a red light. she doesnât look at you when she does it.
âso,â you begin, glancing at her, âyou could be in australia right now; drinking cocktails by a pool. why are you here in seoul?â
she glances over with a smile. âi could be.â
âso why arenât you?â
she exhales through her nose, barely smiling. âbecause youâre here.â
âright,â you answer, cheeks flushing with warmth. and itâs enough.
that silences you, looking out the window as the snow settles along rooftops. your chest aches a little and itâs not in the way it used to; not with longing, but just with how much space she still takes up, even now.
grazia is tucked between two boutiques, all brick and wood and fogged-up windows. itâs warm and smells like cardamom and coffee inside. the waiter leads you to a quiet table near the back; you end up ordering pancakes and sana gets eggs on toast with extra mushrooms.
you talk about books â what youâve been reading, what you havenât had time to. she tells you about a ridiculous rumour she overheard at a party last week: something about taehyung and a chaebol heir (not jennie this time) who may or may not be fake.
itâs ridiculous.
after a pause, she stirs sugar into her coffee and asks. âsoâŠhave you decided?â
you look up at her, then down at your plate. âabout the job?â
she nods.
âi think iâm gonna take it,â you answer, running your fingers through your hair. âtaehyungâs dad offered me a contract starting next month. iâd be handling mid-scale portfolios. nothing glamorous, butâŠâ
âitâs a start,â she finishes.
âyeahâŠa really good one.â
she smiles. âiâm glad â youâll do so well.â
she stirs her drink once more, something milky and sweet. sheâs dressed down today; soft turtleneck, old jeans, hair tied back with a velvet scrunchie that doesnât match.
you rest your cheek on your hand and watch her; she looks comfortable.
âyouâre staring again,â she chuckles without looking up and the sound makes your head all warm and fuzzy.
you clear your throat. âyouâre always stirring your drink for no reason.
she grins. âiâm thinking.â
âabout what?â
âyou.â
you scoff into your coffee. âtry something harder.â
she reaches across the table to steal a piece of your banana bread, doesnât bother asking. you let her. then, more softly, she adds: âiâm really proud of you.â
âwhat for?â
âthe job,â she mumbles. âwith taehyungâs dad. thatâs hugeâŠeveryone knows the kim family doesnât let anyone in so easily.â
âitâs honestly just an entry contract.â
âitâs still a big deal,â she insists. âdonât downplay it. you worked hard and earned it.â
you press your hands around your mug and let the silence linger before asking: âand what about you?â
she lifts her gaze as you watch her carefully.
âwhen are you taking over your empire?â
sana snorts. âdonât call it that.â
âit is thatâŠyour family owns half of tokyo and most of osaka.â
âi mean when you put it like that,â she mutters. âit isâŠa lot.â
you raise a brow. âso? whatâs the plan?â
she laughs, soft and brief â but you keep note of how her shoulders tense.
you donât press, not yet. you just keep your voice even. âyou know itâs coming.â
she leans back slightly, her fingers tracing the edge of her cup. âi know. my dadâs beenâŠbringing it up more often lately. the boardâs already making decisions ten years from now.â
her eyes lift to meet yours.
you try to sound gentle; encouraging. âso why not?â
she shrugs, looking away now. âbecause iâd have to be in japanâŠfull-time.â
she hasnât said it so plainly before.
you let the silence sit long enough, watching the way she presses her lips together, like sheâs already prepared herself for this to hurt.
perhaps the part of you thatâs been too afraid to name thisâŠwhatever this is â has been waiting for this conversation all along.
âitâs not that i donât want to,â she adds, quieter now. âbut i canât leave you. not like this. not when we justâŠstarted again.â
she meets your gaze once more. thereâs something in her expression that makes your chest ache. itâs not doubt.
itâs love, stretched thin by time and distance and the inevitability of her life pulling her somewhere you canât follow â not yet.
and maybe this is what it means to be grown. to sit across from someone you love, knowing love might not be enough to keep things from changing.
âiâd never ask you to stay just because of me.â
âi know you wouldnât.â
âbut i also wouldnât hold it against you if you needed to go.â
she exhales, blinking down at her hands. âi donât want to go if it means leaving this.â
âweâre not a place,â you tell her gently. âweâre not a time either. weâre justâŠus. maybe weâll always be.â
you reach for her hand across the table and she lets you take it. her fingers are cold but steady, thumb rubbing against the inside of your wrist like sheâs trying to remember how to hold on without gripping too tightly.
you think: if this is all we have right now, iâll take it. and across the table, she looks at you like sheâs thinking the same thing.
as you walk back to the car, she slips her hand into your coat pocket; not your hand. just your pocket.
you laugh at her, feeling a bit lighter now. âwhat are you doing?â
she shrugs, looking forward. âjust making sure youâre warm.â
you donât reply, sliding your hand over hers, not lacing your fingers, just covering them because her palm is cold. you press your thumb into the space between her knuckles and feel her lean a little closer as you walk.
â§ïœ„ïŸ: *â§ïœ„ïŸ:*
the sound of your door clicking open feels louder than it should. your body aches from sitting too long in the same position, neck stiff, legs heavy and your brain mush after hours of reading case law. you drag yourself into the main living area where the scent of cheap popcorn lingers and twilight is somehow playing again â muted blue and green tones flickering across the television screen.
bella is mid-monologue; the sky is always grey in that fuckass town.
yunjin and ryujin are curled up on opposite ends of the couch, each with a throw blanket and a half-empty bowl of snacks between them. yunjinâs legs are draped over ryujinâs lap and theyâre blth eating crispy m&ms (because theyâre the best) like itâs the end of the world.
you drop onto the armchair beside them.
âhow many times do you guys need to watch this a year?â you ask, voice still rough from not speaking all afternoon.
ryujin doesnât look away from the screen. âyouâre uncultured.â
âshe just doesnât get it,â yunjin agrees, nudging you with her socked foot. âshe never got the team jacob to team edward pipeline.â
âi was studying contract law while you two watched vampire melodrama,â you grumble.
âthat was your mistake,â ryujin shrugs, refusing to look away from the screen. âand so the lion fell in love with the lamb.â
you sit with them a while, with bits of and pieces of them mimicking lines and a type of silence that only happens when people know each other too well to need to fill it. itâs almost dinner time, you realise. you probably havenât had a proper meal since breakfast.
yunjin turns to you like sheâs reading your thoughts. âso, what do you want to do for dinner?â
you hesitate. âuhh, iâm actually going to sanaâs soon.â
ryujin raises her brows without comment. yunjin shifts slightly, pulling her knees to her chest.
âmovie night?â she asks, a little teasing, but gentle.
you nod, reaching down to adjust your sock. âyeah, she said she found this old japanese film she wants me to watch.â
âwhatâs going on with you two anyway?â ryujin looks at you. âitâs been a while now.â
you pause because putting it into words makes it feel more solid.
âweâreâŠgood,â you say slowly. âwe donât talk about what it is. but itâs been really good.â
yunjin hums softly. âandâŠhave you heard from karina?â
her name hits like a stone through still water, your shoulders tensing without meaning to. you havenât thought about her in ages.
not really, anyway. not since early winter, when snow was just beginning to settle and you were still getting used to the way sana folded your blankets and made you tea before you even asked.
after that dinner scene, jimin just simply vanished. no texts or awkward sightings. not even a whisper from giselle, who always managed to mention her in passing before.
and you didnât chase it. perhaps you were too tiredâŠor maybe you were finally learning how to let silence be what it was.
still, the name makes something flicker inside your chest. itâs no longer pain, not anymoreâŠjust something dull and hasnât fully left.
âno,â you finally answer. âi havenât heard anything.â
yunjin fiddles with a popcorn kernel. âwell, sheâs in seoul, i saw her on ningningâs story last week. she was in the background.â
ryujin says nothing for once, she just reaches for the remote and lowers the volume a bit.
your stomach twists. âreally?â
âlooked like a rooftop thing. not much though, was just a glimpse.â
you nod, mouth dry. âguess she didnât end up going to europe with jaewook after all.â
âyeah, guess so,â yunjin smiles at you, the way she always does when she wants to comfort you but doesnât know the words to say.
you push yourself off the chair and stand. âi should get going though.â
ryujin gives you a slight wave. âtell sana we said hi. and look after yourself. and your heart.â
you pull on your coat, scarf still a mess from how it was folded. your bagâs got a change of clothes stuffed at the bottom and a book you havenât opened. as you walk out into the cold, your breath clouds in the air and the sky has that faint blue cast of early evening.
sanaâs apartment is warm, smells faintly of citrus and something boiling on the stove. she answers the door in a navy jumper and fuzzy socks, her hair damp like she just stepped out of the shower. you blink once and feel your chest ease.
âhi,â she grins, already reaching for your scarf, unravelling it to untie it properly now.
you laugh. âseriously?â
âyouâll thank me later.â
you follow her inside, boots off, bag dropped near the shoe rack. sheâs already set up her bedroom âblankets stacked and mismatched pyjamas folded on the edge. you change slowly, the clothes a little big on you, the sleeves brushing your knuckles. she doesnât say anything when she sees you wearing her shirt, but she smiles like something in her has softened.
you settle into the blankets while she brings over miso ramen and sushi on two trays; simple, warm, comforting.
she really insists on playing an old japanese film she watched once with her mum. itâs black and white and slow-moving, all long glances and quiet music. halfway through, your head finds her shoulder and eventually, her chest.
and somewhere near the end, your eyes start to slip closed. you donât mean to fall asleep. but sanaâs warmth is steady, her breathingâs a weird kind of comfort and her hand has found yours under the blanket.
when you stir awake again, the room is darker. the credits are rolling in soft kanji across the screen. she hasnât moved.
you lift your head slightly and find her staring at you. âwere you watching me?â
she smiles, lazy and unbothered. âa little.â
âcreep.â
âyouâre peaceful when you sleep.â
you groan and bury your face in her arm. âdonât look at me like that.â
she laughs quietly. âand youâre warm, i didnât want to move.â
you stay there a while longer, the silence easier now. then something tugs at you. âiâm sorry.â
she doesnât respond right away. âabout what?â
âabout how weâre stillâŠlike this,â your voice is small. âno labels, no real plan â i really need to fix myself.â
she lifts a hand to push your hair back, thumb brushing your temple. âyou donât need fixing, y/n. not for me. i love you the way you are now. and iâll still love you when that changes.â
you exhale shakily, not sure if itâs relief or fear that floods your chest.
she squeezes your hand to ground you.
âyou know when i was a kid,â she adds after a moment, her fingers gently playing with your hair. âi used to imagine running away.
you look up at her. âwhy?â
ânot because i wanted to disappear,â she says softly. âi just wanted to choose who i came back for.â
you donât say anything.
you just press your face into her neck, grip tightening around her waist while listening to the rhythm of her breathing until you fall asleep againâŠbecause maybe thatâs what this is. not the end, not even the beginning.
itâs her coming back. and this time, youâre here to open the door for her.
â§ïœ„ïŸ: *â§ïœ„ïŸ:*
the suit bag hangs on the edge of your wardrobe, unzipped and half-open, like itâs waiting to be taken seriously. inside are five options. none of which you picked. sanaâs stylist had dropped them off earlier that morning, her usual chirpy self making you try on half of them while sana watched from the bed, cup of coffee balanced on her knee.
now itâs dusk and youâve been through three shirts, three full outfit changes and a minor crisis about the perfect sock colour. the room smells like sandalwood and setting lotion. your windowâs open just slightly, letting in the bite of the air, that particular cold that only ever feels sharp in late december.
sanaâs standing behind you, hair already done âglossy, parted perfectly with the ends curling. sheâs wearing a black suit, white shirt buttoned down enough to make you look twice. or three times. the fabric clings at her waist and loosens again at her hips.
itâs unfair. criminal, evenâŠto look that good.
youâre standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the cuff of a white shirt that isnât yours.
âthis oneâs too tight,â you complain, tugging at the collar. âi look like iâm going to cry at prom.â
âyou always look like that,â she replies, flicking through jackets on hangers. âitâs part of your charm.â
you glare at her through the mirror and she laughs at your own expense without bothering to look up.
youâre staring.
of course you are.
âyouâre staring at me again,â she says, not even looking up.
âyou look ridiculous,â you reply.
âthatâs not what your face is saying.â she lifts the black lapel of a suit jacket and gives you a side glance, smug. âshould we match, bub?â
you cross the room before you even decide to. sheâs still smiling when you reach her, but it drops slightly â just enough to tell you she knows.
you donât think.
youâre already up before she can finish her sentence. your hand finds her waist, and then her back, and then her mouth. the kiss lands hard and sure, pulling her in until her spine meets the wall beside your wardrobe. she lets out a surprised sound that turns into a low laugh against your lips when your hands grip her tighter than you mean to.
she tastes like spearmint and skin warmed by sunlight. everything else fades â your open window, the hum of the street below, the muted rustle of ryujin and yunjin bickering in the hallway.
your entire world narrows to the sound of her breathing, quick and uneven, her hands slipping beneath your shirt; not greedy, never, just holding you in place.
when you finally pull away, youâre still gently cupping her face as she blinks slowly, breath catching.
âyouâre such an ass,â she starts, voice rough. âyouâre really going to do that an hour before i introduce you to my entire bloodline?â
âhmm,â you murmur, forehead pressed to hers. âseemed like the right time.â
she exhales a laugh and shoves your shoulder lightly, but she doesnât move away. her lips are redder now, eyes much darker. you like how she looks like this â just a little undone.
âyouâre the one in a suit,â you continue, a shit-eating grin plastered on your face. âthis is your fault.â
she kisses you again â just once, before tapping your chest. âgrey suit. last one on the rack. wear the white shirt with the pearl buttons.â
you raise an eyebrow. âyou sure?â
âyouâll make everyone nervous,â she confirms, unbuttoning the shirt you just complained about. âitâs perfect.â
when you finally walk out of your room â now dressed, hair styled and tie slightly crooked on purpose, ryujin and yunjin are waiting in the living room in matching red dresses that clearly werenât planned but still managed to look coordinated.
yunjin looks up from her phone. âare you two done making out?â
sanaâs behind you, still adjusting your collar from the back. âoh,â she says lightly. âwhat gave it away?â
they groan in unison, ryujin grabbing a cushion to half-heartedly throw at you. âdisgusting.â
âembarrassing,â yunjin adds.
you just roll your eyes, cheeks still warm.
the minatozaki family meet every year in seoul a few days before christmas, no matter how scattered they are across time zones or industries. they are old money, after all, operating like a boardroom with laughter; polite, but rarely without genuine warmth.
itâs all carefully curated holiday cards, biannual art acquisitions and a shared family lawyer whoâs probably been with them longer than most cousins have been alive. and theyâre big on tradition, binding them like a woven thread across generations.
sana once told you that missing the family holiday party would be a bigger scandal than missing a wedding of the year. no one has ever dared skip it â not even the cousin who got stranded in switzerland one year; he video called in wearing a tux.
the venue this year is a five-star hotel in gangnam; just one of those buildings with glass facades and understated signage. as soon as you walk inside, the ballroom is glowing with golden lights and crystal fixtures, the chandeliers dimmed to a soft glitter. waiters move between clusters of people with trays of champagne and tiny canapés.
she walks beside you, hand in yours like itâs the most natural thing in the world. you hear ryujin swear while yunjin nervously fidgets around. her other hand rests lightly on your lower back as she steers you through the room, the guests are all family, more or less: great-uncles and cousins and elders you canât quite place.
everyone already knows. thereâs no guessing involved. they all smile at you politely, a few with surprise but no one dares to question your presence.
her mother hugs you as soon as she sees you, still smelling faintly of lavender and expensive tea.
âfinally,â she sighs in relief, smiling. âwe were starting to think you were imaginary.â
her father smiles approvingly while eyeing your blazer. âyou look very sharp, you wear the colour well.â
you thank him, a little awkwardly, and sana leans in to whisper, âhe only says that to people he really likes.â
you laugh, brushing her fingers with yours.
throughout the evening, relatives come and go in waves. they ask what youâre doing after graduation, if youâve thought about law firms abroad, if you would consider working in japan. you answer each one as politely as you can and they nod like theyâre taking mental notes.
sanaâs grip never wavers. this is the difference.
with her, thereâs no hesitation. she doesnât shrink you and make you feel like something to be hidden. she says: this is y/n like that means somethingâŠit has to.
you think about that as the night goes on. how strange and comforting it is, not to be the shadow in someone elseâs story. sheâs proud. of you. and the whole room knows it.
then, somewhere between dessert and after-dinner drinks, an uncle announces the annual family photo. the photographerâs already setting up near the grand staircase, light stands flaring against the high ceilings.
you start to step back, figuring this part isnât for you, when she tugs you gently by the wrist.
âand where do you think youâre going?â she asks, an eyebrow raised in that demanding tone too.
you glance at her. âi figured iâd stay out of the frame.â
âdonât be stupid,â she shakes her head, tone now soft, not scolding.
she brings you forward, weaving through her cousins and uncles, until her mother sees you both and waves you in closer. the photographer arranges everyone once again, gesturing toward the centre of the front row.
sana takes your hand and leads you there â right beside her, between her and her mother like youâve always belonged.
âthis okay?â she murmurs.
you nod slowly.
âgood,â she fixes your collar, smooths your jacket, then slips her hand into yours again.
her father smiles at you two and her mother wraps an arm around your waist like itâs second nature.
when the photo is taken, sanaâs thumb gently brushes against your knuckles. youâve never felt more seen in your life.
later on, sana excuses herself to the bathroom and youâre suddenly cornered by ryujin and yunjin near the dessert table. they both have shit-eating grins on their faces like theyâve been here before.
âso,â ryujin begins, popping up beside you with a glass of wine, âyouâre marrying another heir of a billion-dollar company? whatâs this obsession with rich people? when i said âeat the richâ, i didnât mean in a literal sense.â
you nearly choke on a piece of almond tart. âwhat the hell are you on about this time?â
âwe didnât realise,â yunjin perches in from the other side. âlike, you know, she had this vibe of maxed-out platinum card and four overdue bills she refuses to open.â
âi thought that girl was dangerously living beyond her meanest,â ryujin mutters. âlikeâŠâitâs crippling, iâm gonna run away eventuallyâ kind of debt.â
âand giselle used to pray you never had to cover any of her bills,â yunjin laughs. âshe was scared for you.â
âyouâre all idiots,â you say, but your cheeks are warm. you sip your wine and glance around the room â gold, velvet, soft laughter under chandeliers.
âseriously,â yunjin continues, nudging you. âhow does it feel?â
you pause, thinking about it. âhonestly? it feelsâŠnice. to belong in the room, be held like this isnât something anyoneâs ashamed of.â
they go quiet.
and then ryujin offers you a mini tart she already bit once. âyou earned it.â
you roll your eyes and take it anyway. youâre halfway through your first glass of champagne when nayeon somehow ends up in front of you. ryujin and yunjin shyly greet her before running away to the bar.
âwell, well,â she says, appearing at your elbow like a headline. âif it isnât little top-of-her-class.â
you nearly choke. âhello to you too, nayeon.â
âyou didnât think youâd escape me, did you?â she laughs, pulling you into a hug. she still smells like endless paperwork. âlook at you â looking all grown.â
âyouâre not still in that securities firm, are you?â
âworse: corporate advisory. minaâs still keeping me sane.â
as if summoned, mina appears beside her, dressed in an ivory pantsuit and the kind of earrings that could probably pay your rent.
âhey,â she smiles, eyes warm. âitâs really good to see you.â
âyou too,â you say honestly. âboth of you.â
nayeon leans in. âwe always knew you and sana were going to find your way back to each other. she was such a mess about you in undergrad.â
they were two of sanaâs closest friends at yonsei. both a few years older than you and practically royalty in their own right; effortlessly composed and always surrounded by people who wanted to be close to them â or be them.
you used to see them around often when you and sana were first getting close. they never treated you unkindlyâŠin fact, nayeon always greeted you with a loud âoh, you again?â and mina would smile quietly, handing you a drink like you already belonged. they were your seniors in every way: in age; in experience; in the kinds of heartbreaks and head starts that come with growing up too fast in worlds you barely feel like you belong in.
even now, years later, the sight of them still pulls something warm and nostalgic from your chest. they remind you of a different time â the nights you stood by sanaâs sideâŠfeeling small but safe, never knowing just how much she would come to mean to you years down the line.
âi was not,â sana says, appearing behind you with two plates of dessert.
âplease,â nayeon rolls her eyes. âshe used to leave dinners just to call you and then cry about how complicated everything was.â
âused to?â mina murmurs, eyebrow raised. âi think the streak ended, what â last year?â
you give sana a look. âso iâve heard.â
she hands you a plate and shrugs. âtheyâre exaggerating.â
âyou used to leave parties to sit in stairwells and call her.â
âi was dramatic.â
âyou cried.â
she waves them off, then glances at you with a crooked grin. âtheyâre jealous.â
âof what?â
âthat youâre the first person iâve ever brought here.â
âwhat?â you blink in disbelief, mouth already full of something sweet and expensive. âno dates before me?â
ânot here,â she repeats. âthis place is family.â
âso iâm special.â
she rolls her eyes, a teasing smile appearing in the corners of her mouth. âyou literally dumped me and iâm still here, so yeah.â
you nudge her, she bumps your shoulder back.
mina watches you both with a quiet smile. âiâm glad youâre here, y/n. youâre both good for each other.â
it takes you a second to absorb that because you do. for the first time in years, maybe ever, youâre in a room full of people who know each otherâs names, whose approval isnât cautious or polite but warm and unconditional â and youâre not being hidden.
itâs late by the time the car rolls through empty streets. the city lights pass like slow waves against the windows. youâre both a little buzzed from wine, shoes kicked off, blazers draped in your laps.
sanaâs fingers are still laced with yours, she looks softer now. her voice quieter as she talks to you, like the world is shrinking back to just the two of you.
your hand rests lightly on her thigh, thumb tracing slow circles through the fabric of her trousers.
âcan i ask you something?â you murmur.
âyouâre allowed,â she replies, tilting her head toward you.
âso why have you not brought anyone to this party?â
her brow lifts, leaning her head back against the seat. âhonestly?â
you nod.
âyouâre the first,â she begins to explain. âbecause you scare me a little, you never asked to be here â you justâŠshowed up and made space without needing to take any.â
you stare at her, a little breathless.
she turns to look at you fully, her expression is open. âitâs always been you, even when it wasnât.â
you swallow hard.
the car still moves quietly through the city, lights passing over the windows in slow, golden waves. and you think, for the first time in a long time, that youâre exactly where youâre supposed to be.
â§ïœ„ïŸ: *â§ïœ„ïŸ:*
itâs christmas day and sanaâs family home is lit like something from an old winter painting. the snow clings to the trees and lines the edges of the roof like icing. and thereâs warmth in every room inside; everything made out of oak in that traditional japanese sense.
youâve never had a christmas like this.
there are matching slippers at the door, monogrammed napkins and the kind of table setting that makes you hesitate before sitting down. the candles flicker low between you all, flames catching on the wine glasses as her father lifts his to inspect the pour.
he sits at the head of the table, sleeves rolled, wine glass already half full. ânot too much,â he chuckles, topping yours off. âdonât want you falling asleep before dessert.â
âno promises,â you reply, and he laughs louder; shoulders shaking and all
itâs just the four of you. no cousins, no extended family or staff pacing in the background. sana sits beside you, ankles crossed under the table, her hand brushing your thigh every now and then like sheâs checking that youâre still here.
âyour parents must miss you,â her mum says, spooning rice into her own bowl. âhave you called them yet?â
you shake your head. ânot yet, i was waiting until things quieted down.â
âcall them now,â sana says softly, nudging your foot under the table. âyou can put it on speaker.â
you hesitate, but her mum is already nodding. âthat would be great, we would love to say hello.â
your phone is in your pocket so you fish it out, glancing at the time â still early evening in switzerland. you press call. the dial tone hums once, then twice and then your mum picks up.
âmerry christmas, darling!â
âhi, mum,â you greet, smiling. âyouâre on speaker.â
âoh?â
âiâm with sanaâs parents,â you explain. âthey wanted to say hi.â
sanaâs dad leans forward. âmerry christmas, hope youâre both having the best time,â he waves, warm and clear.
you can hear the delight in your motherâs voice. âoh, how lovely! thank you for hosting our daughter this year. we were sorry she couldnât come with us.â
âsheâs very welcome here,â her mum adds. âweâre happy to have her.â
sana chimes in next, her voice light. âhi, mr and mrs y/l/n. thanks for raising the most stubborn woman alive.â
your fatherâs voice comes through faintly in the background. âyouâve got your hands full, then.â
they all laugh and you feel your face warm. it feels good.
âweâll let you go enjoy dinner,â your mum adds after a minute more of cheerful noise and small talk. âweâll talk properly tomorrow.â
you hang up and sana squeezes your knee gently beneath the table.
her fatherâs already mid-sip of his wine when he says, âso, this firm youâre joining â under the kim family?â
âyes, taehyungâs dad offered me a placement earlier in the year.â
he snorts. âsounds about right; that manâs sharp. got his claws into you before the others could.â
you laugh, shaking your head. âhe was persuasive.â
âa good sign,â he nods, raising his glass. âpeople chase talent, it means youâre doing something right if youâve got one of south koreaâs richest men to persuade you.â
you hum and it settles over you: the warmth, the acceptance, the easy rhythm of it all. thereâs no tension in your shoulders and you donât feel the need to read between words or brace yourself for correction â itâs a slow meal with people who see you as someone worth being proud of.
not tolerated nor excused, but welcomed with open arms.
dinner finishes with tea and fruits. sanaâs mum brings out small velvet boxes and pushes one toward you. you hesitate, glance at sana, whoâs smiling gently.
âwe said no gifts.â
âand we ignored it,â her mum replies.
you open it carefully.
inside is a watch; silver and elegant, the weight of it immediately grounding as you glance at the name richard mille.
jesus christ, you thought.
beside it, wrapped in a velvet slip, is a gold pen with your initials carved at the top of it.
youâve seen something like this pen before. on sanaâs desk, in her hand, tucked into her notebook. she mentioned she got it at eighteen.
you look up, words forming slowly. âthis is too much.â
ânonsense,â her father groans. âyouâre part of our lives now; get used to it.â
you donât trust your voice enough to speak, so you nod, fingers curling around the velvet like itâll anchor you.
they donât need thanks drawn out and scripted; you know their kindness doesnât ask for anything in return and thatâs the part that stings the most. you never knew you could be carried like this without having to earn it.
and when the tableâs been cleared and the kitchen grows quiet and her parents disappear up the stairs with soft goodnights and kind glances, itâs just you and sana again â on the living room floor, legs stretched toward the fireplace, two glasses of wine resting on the table between you.
the fire crackles quietly, the only real sound in the room. you can still hear music faintly from the kitchen; jazz, maybe, but the rest of the world has dimmed.
your head leans slightly against her shoulder. she doesnât move.
youâre full in every sense of the word. full of food, of warmth, of something else you havenât named yet. and then your phone buzzes.
you feel the vibration in your pocket before the ring even begins.
itâs faint, easily ignorable, except something in your body registers it before your mind does. you shift slightly, ease your hand into your pocket, still curled up beside her in front of the fire.
the screen lights up and her name flashes once.
karina.
the air feels colder all of a sudden. your stomach twists, a quiet clench that catches you off guard. beside you, sana stirs slightly but she doesnât say anything, she doesnât need to. she sees the screen.
you stand up, too quickly.
âiâll just â be a minute,â you murmur.
you stand without a word and she doesnât look up.
you step out onto the balcony, sliding the door closed behind you. the air is cold against your neck, your breath blooming white in the dark.
and you answer before you can talk yourself out of it. âhello?â
her voice is exactly how you remember it â low, careful, like itâs measuring the silence between your words before theyâre even spoken.
âhi, merry christmas, y/n.â
you close your eyes for a moment, let the wind bite at your face. âmerry christmas, jimin.â
thereâs a pause. you hear the hum of something in the background and neither of you speak for a second.
âi wasnât sure if i should call, but you crossed my mind. i guessâŠyou still do,â she continues, her voice is so small it barely carries on top of the breeze. âbut i didnât want to let the day pass withoutâŠsaying it. i know you were excited for christmas.â
your hand curls around the edge of the railing, feeling the ache before it even takes shape. itâs not a painful, but more like the kind thatâs been dulled by time but not erased.
âhow are you?â you ask, unsure what to say next.
jimin exhales a shaky breath. âiâve been better, but my parents are still asking if iâve managed to win you back,â she lets out something close to a laugh, but it doesnât reach her chest. âthey say it like itâs a job â think they really wanted to know you more.â
you let the silence settle for a moment. itâs familiar, but it doesnât hurt the same way anymore. you didnât need to know any of that; no longer have the right to.
âhowâsâŠjaewook?â
sheâs quiet for a second too long. âumm, yeah, we broke up the day after that night i saw you. i think i knew i couldnât keep lying to him and myself after that.â
you chew the inside of your cheek, the words settling slowly, heavy but unsurprising.
âiâm sorry,â you croak out.
âdonât be,â she replies. âi shouldâve ended it a long time ago.â
the wind whistles faintly between the railing bars. you adjust your weight, heart beating a little harder than you would like.
âare you happy?â she asks; itâs barely more than a whisper. âwith her?â
your breath catches with how much weight the questoon carries. you look through the frosted glass, into the house where sana still sits, curled into the couch, waiting patiently â warm and steady.
âyeah,â you reply after a second. âweâreâŠtaking things slow. but itâs real; sheâs real.â
she doesnât reply right away either. when she does, her voice is rougher than before. âgood.â
you believe her, mostly, or at least you want to.
âiâm glad,â she continues, though thereâs something behind itâŠlike sheâs letting go of something without knowing if itâs the last time.
the silence comes back, thicker this time.
âthank you for calling,â you tell her, meaning it. âitâs really good to hear from you.â
you hear her exhale, something like a smile buried in it. âtake care of yourself.â
âyou too.â
the call ends.
you watch the snow fall for a few more seconds, then slide the phone back into your pocket, letting the cold seep into your skin just to feel everything clearly.
it was kind, that call. necessary, maybe. but you donât feel unsteady and you donât feel torn.
it feelsâŠfinished.
sana looks up as you return. she doesnât move, but her face has changed, ever so slightly â like something pulled rigidly just beneath her eyes.
you feel it settle between you like a window left open just a little too long.
âif you ever want to go back to her,â she suddenly voices out, tone sorrowful: âi wonât hold it against you, i knew what i was getting myself into. and you donât owe me anything at all.â
your heart drops as you stare at the fire for a second longer before you speak. âsana, baby, i want to keep moving with you.â
the words sit between you, unfurling slowly. she nods. once. but you can see how tightly sheâs holding herself together.
under the couch, you pull out the small box you had been keeping for her. itâs not wrapped well and the corners are uneven and you had to tape the bottom twice because you suck at wrapping gifts â but you place it on her lap anyway.
âthis is for you.â
she looks at you, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. she doesnât reach for the gift right away. instead, she unwraps it slowly, fingers catching at the tape.
inside is a square canvas â the edges still a little rough where the paint dried too fast. itâs the two of you, sitting on a bench in that quiet park from that night. backs facing the viewer, just two figures with shoulders leaning in, hair caught in a breeze. nothing fancy, but itâs unmistakably you and her.
you wait while she stares at it.
then: âyou painted this?â
you nod. your voice shakes a little. âa few weeks ago.â
her eyes flicker up. theyâre glossy now and it breaks something open in your chest. she doesnât speak for a long time, just holding the frame in both hands like sheâs afraid itâll slip.
you shift a little closer.
âi know we didnât take a photo that day, we were both too drunk,â you explain, a smile on your face. âbut i remember it. i remember thinking that if anything in my life ever felt like home again, it would be that moment â us under the stars, quietly figuring ourselves out.â
her breath hitches.
âiâm still scared,â you admit. âi still think i might mess this up. i still wake up sometimes not sure if i deserve any of it. but i want to try. youâre so, so, so important to me, sana, i never want to lose you again.â
the tears spill slowly, she doesnât even bother hiding them.
âyouâre such a jerk,â she mumbles through a soft laugh. âyou couldnât have said all that before the wine?â
you smile, a little helpless. âsorry.â
she puts the painting down carefully and reaches for your hand. âyou wonât lose me, not this time.â
you pull her in gently and she lets you, arms wrapping tight around your waist, the painting resting carefully against her side.
âyou matter to me,â you whisper. âalways.â
âi know,â she says. âi just needed to hear you say it.â
and so you do. again and again.
â§ïœ„ïŸ: *â§ïœ„ïŸ:*
you wake to the dull hum of your phone vibrating on the nightstand. you donât reach for it straight away â your eyes are still adjusting. and sanaâs breath is warm against your neck, she shifts slightly, murmuring something in her sleep and her arm curls tighter around your waist.
the screen glows again. this time you blink fully awake and glance over.
but the sound doesnât stop. it pulses again âpersistent. you shift, groggy, reaching toward the nightstand where your phone is lighting up.
karina is callingâŠ
âthe fuck?â you let out a quiet sigh through your nose, staring at the screen like maybe, if youâre still enough, itâll stop ringing.
it doesnât. the digits blur slightly â 2:31 a.m.
sana stirs behind you. âwho is it?â her voice is still caught in sleep, soft and heavy.
âitâsâŠjimin,â you mumble out in slight disbelief. âsheâs calling, should i answer?â
you half expect her to roll away, to go quiet like last time. but instead, she rests her hand against your shoulder and says, gently: âanswer it.â
you turn to her. âare you sure?â
she nods; her hairâs messy against the pillow, eyes barely open, but she still offers you a small, understanding smile. âi know what itâs likeâŠto be the one who never gets the call back.â
your heart aches at that, but you nod and slide off the bed quietly, grabbing your hoodie from the chair as you step out into the lounge room.
you swipe to answer. âhello, jimin?â
youâre already halfway down the hallway, bare feet padding softly against the hardwood, heart thumping as you shut the bedroom door behind you.
her voice cracks instantly through the speaker. âyou answeredâŠi wasnât sure.â
itâs messy â slurred, uneven, like her tongueâs too slow to keep up with her mouth. thereâs noise in the background. a car maybe, or the wind, itâs nothing solid.
âare you okay?â you ask. âwhere are you?â
âi donât know,â she breathes. you can hear her sniffle. âi didnât want to call, i just â i couldnât not. fuck, i sound so stupid.â
your brows furrow, concern rising. you drop onto the couch, pressing the phone harder to your ear.
âjimin, whatâs going on? are you out?â
âi wanted to see you,â she answers, voice trembling. âi keep wanting to see you. i keep seeing you. itâs like â everything i do reminds me of you and i donât even know if you care anymore. do you still care?â
you sit down on the couch, rubbing at your temple. âwhat more do you want from me?â
âyou,â she says it so fast like itâs always been waiting behind her teeth. âi want you back.â
you close your eyes. âkarinaâŠâ
âdonât, donât say it like that, donât say it in that tone like you pity me.â
you run a hand through your hair, staring at the dark screen of the tv in front of you. âyouâre drunk, can you please send me your location?â
âyou still care?â she asks, voice wobbling. âyou still care about me, donât you?â
you donât answer that. instead, you repeat, firmer this time, âsend me your location. please.â
she sniffs, quiet for a moment. then the familiar ping of a map drops into your phone. âyou didnât answer meâŠâ
âstay on the line,â you demand. and she doesnât argue.
you get up from the couch, walking back toward the bedroom. sanaâs sitting up now, pulling her hair back into a bun. the bedside lamp is on, casting soft yellow against the walls. she looks tired, but sheâs already pointing at her bag.
âkeys are in the front pocket,â she gestures you over with a sleepy, understanding smile.
you lean in, press your mouth to her temple, then her cheek, her skin warm and soft against your lips. âiâm sorry.â
âdonât be,â she cups your jaw gently. âall i want is for you to bring her home safe.â
âiâll be back soon,â you whisper.
âi know.â
you slip your shoes on at the door, phone still pressed to your ear as you speak quietly to jimin, whoâs gone quiet but hasnât hung up.
âhey,â you say. âiâm coming to get you, okay?â
thereâs no response at first. then: âokay.â
the street is cold and quiet, light snow from the previous night still melting in uneven patches along the curb. you get in the car, engine humming to life with your hand tight on the wheel. you glance once at the rearview mirror and try not to think too hard about where this night is headed.
because even now â even with sana asleep in your bed, with your life finally steady, with love that doesnât hurt â youâre still driving out into the dark when jimin calls and a part of you hates that you always will.
the streets are empty this late. seoul feels softer somehow, the edges dulled by the chill and the quiet. traffic lights flicker through amber and red, casting slow glows against the frost on your windscreen. the heater hums low.
while jiminâs still on the line, sheâs quiet now, only the sound of her sniffling breaking through. you donât say anything. thereâs nothing left to say in the silence and yet you stay on the call.
you drive with one hand on the wheel, the other holding the phone to your ear, her breath moving in and out like waves.
the location leads you to a quiet side street near a convenience store. a line of taxis sits idle nearby, lights off, drivers probably asleep. you see her before she sees you â curled up on a bench, knees pulled tight to her chest, hair tousled and damp. her coatâs buttoned wrong and she looks smaller than you remember.
the sight of her like this does something strange to your chest â splits it, gently, like an old wound reopening along its scar line. you hadnât realised how deeply the memory of her lived in your body.
but you get out anyway.
each step toward her feels like walking underwater. heavy and unreal. itâs not like the movies; thereâs no music, no chatter, not even the buzz of the neon bar sign â just the sound of your boots crunching over ice and her small, wracked breaths in the distance.
she looks up; mascara smudged under both eyes, blinking like sheâs not sure if youâre really here.
âyou came,â she speaks, voice shaking. âyou actually came.â
you crouch down beside her. âof course i did.â
itâs not even a sentence, really. her lips part like she wants to speak, but nothing comes out except a new wave of tears. she breaks immediately â no hesitation, no pride left to cling to. she just folds into you like muscle memory, like all those months apart didnât stretch the distance between your bodies.
her arms lock around your neck, shoulders shaking violently, the kind of crying that comes from somewhere deeper than sadness.
grief, maybe. or realisation.
âyou look so much happier now,â she mumbles into your sleeve, voice muffled in between breaths. âwith sana. i see it in your faceâŠyou never looked at me like that.â
âthatâs not true,â you reassure her. â
she puts a slight distance between you two, wiping her face with the sleeve of her coat instead. her eyes are swollen, cheeks red from the cold. âi ruined it. i ruined everything.
you look at her, really take a good look at her. the way her lips are chapped, she looks so tired. you wonder if sheâs eaten today.
if sheâs still trying to pretend sheâs okay to everyone but you.
âmaybe,â you say gently. âbut that doesnât mean i hate you.â
she laughs bitterly through her tears. âyou should.â
âi donât,â you say again. âyou loved me in the way you couldâŠit just wasnât enough.â
the words feel cruel even as you say them, but theyâre honest. and maybe she needs that more than kindness right now.
you guide her to the car with gentle hands, barely saying a word. sheâs compliant but stumbling, half-apologising through her sobs. her coat slips off one shoulder, and you pull it up, fasten the belt for her. the seatbelt clicks into place and you pass her the water bottle from the centre console.
âdrink some of this, you need it.â
she obeys. she always does with you, even now. sheâs still crying â softly, into the crook of her elbow. you start the car and pull into the road without asking where to go.
you already know.
the han riverâs quiet this time of night. empty car park, the kind of silence you used to share like a secret. back then, it felt like the only place in the city where you could breathe together.
no lights except the scattered halos of streetlamps catching on the water. you pull into the spot she used to love â far left corner, facing the ripples.neither of you speak right away.
the engine hums low on the background.
âi used to take you here every time i ran out of things to say,â she whispers. her voice is hoarse. âand somehow you always found more.â
you turn to her. sheâs staring out at the river like it holds every answer she was too scared to look for back then. her hands tremble as she sets the water down to her lap.
âwhy did i do that?â she asks, voice small. âwhy did i lie to you every time i told you i was choosing you? why did i make you believe that?â
you donât know how to answer. youâve asked yourself the same thing, over and over. back then it felt like she was always reaching for you with one hand and holding something else in the other.
you wanted her to choose, you waited for it. but she never did.
âi was so scared,â she admits, eyes glistening again. ânot of you. of what it meant to love you that much and the expectations already set out for me in stone.â
you remain quiet because your throat aches with too much of everything. she reaches for your hand, like sheâs checking to see if itâs still real.
you watch the water shimmer through the windshield, her reflection blurring next to yours in the glass. âi tried so hard to let you go, but i think i justâŠfolded you into every part of me instead.â
âi hated myself for how i treated you,â jimin continued, her voice cracking again. âi still do.â
âdonât,â you finally look at her. âyou were scared. people make stupid choices when theyâre scared.â
âyou werenât,â she lets out a pained sob. âyou never were. you always chose me, even when it hurt. even when i couldnât say your name out loud.â
âand youâre punishing yourself for not being ready, but thatâs not love, jimin. itâs guilt. and itâs going to eat you alive if you let it.â
you both sit there for a long time, her head resting against the window and her hand still holding yours.
she folds over again, body racked with sobs, and you do what youâve always done â you hold her. her head lands onto your shoulder this time and she grips your sleeve like itâs the only solid thing left in the world.
at some point, you find tears slipping out of your eyes too. not because you still want her, not in that way. but because once, you really did. and that kind of loss never leaves quietly.
you stroke her hair slowly, the silence stretching around you like a blanket pulled tight. itâs not cold anymore, but youâre both shivering from everything else.
then, your phone buzzes. sana. asking if youâre still thereâŠbut it feels like a different question, like it holds another meaning than just there.
âwe should go,â you heave out a sigh. âsanaâs waiting for me.â
âokay,â she nods quietly. âokay, we can do that.â
sheâs quiet when you drive her home. her hand stays in yours the whole ride, resting on the centre console, thumb brushing over your knuckles.
nothing needs to be said now.
when you pull up outside her building, she doesnât move at first. she just turns to you, eyes full and steady. she hesitates. and then, barely above a whisper: âwill you stay with me tonight?â
you pause, heart twisting, then stills. âno,â you say, as gently as you can. âi canât.â
she nods, like she expected that answer but it still wounds her. âthis is goodbye, isnât it?â
you look over at her. âiâŠyeah. i think so.â
she reaches out, touches your cheek gently, her fingers cold but still familiar. you shake your head, but she leans in, presses her forehead against yours and keeps going. âif i ever get another chanceâŠiâll do it right.â
your eyes sting and having her this close again makes your chest ache. âjimin ââ
her voice is barely a whisper now, her tears falling on your lap. âif i have to wait a lifetime, i will. if not this one, then the next.â
you donât promise anything, but you press your forehead to hers for a moment longer and then pull away.
âplease go inside,â you whisper, closing your eyes. âgoodnight, jimin.â
she nods and steps out of the car â doesnât look back but you can see the way her shoulders shake. you watch her walk away until she disappears into the building, and only then do you let the tears fall freely.
itâs not love anymore, not quite. but itâs still something. maybe it always will be.
â§ïœ„ïŸ: *â§ïœ„ïŸ:*
you donât mean to make a big deal of it. not really.
the skyâs that bright blue that means late spring is almost over and itâs warm enough that the breeze coming off the han river barely makes a difference.
sanaâs leaning back on her elbows, the grass soft beneath the blanket she insisted on bringing. itâs the same one from the last time â the one you two fell asleep under after sneaking snacks into a campus lawn movie night months ago. youâre both stretched out at yeouido park, iced coffee mostly melted between you, the soft hum of people around blending with the low strum of an acoustic busker in the distance.
you should be focused on your book but youâre not. youâve been reading the same paragraph three times; she keeps tapping your ankle with hers. sheâs got sunglasses on, head tilted back like sheâs soaking in the last of the coldness before summer pulls it away.
âyouâre staring,â she says, not looking at you, her mouth tugged up into the smallest smirk. âi can feel it.â
âiâm not,â you lie, flipping the page like thatâll save you.
she doesnât push, just keeps tapping your ankle lazily, her foot warm against yours. you want to tell her to stop because itâs driving you mad, the affection of it.
the way she still treats you like someone precious, even when youâve made her wait all this time.
you glance sideways at her. her lips are soft and sheâs wearing your hoodie. she smells like the inside of your pillow. and when she turns her head to face you â sunglasses sliding down a little â you feel it all at once.
every slow moment youâve spent together since winter. the little things. the movie nights, the long drives, the way she remembers how you take your coffee. how sheâs never made you feel like loving her is a countdown to goodbye.
and god, you love her.
you set your book down. âhey, sana.â
she hums.
âcan we ââ you falter. clear your throat. âcan we make this official?â
that gets her. she pushes her sunglasses up onto her head, blinks at you like she didnât hear you right. âwhat?â
you sit up straighter, stomach twisting. âi meanâŠi want to be with you. like, actually with you. if you still want that.â
sheâs silent for a second too long, in the way you know sheâs replaying your words, making sure theyâre real. her smile starts in her eyes before it reaches her lips.
âyouâre asking me to be your girlfriend,â she repeats slowly, softly, like she wants to savour it.
you nod, heart thudding. âyeah.â
âfinally,â she lets out a breath, practically laughs, and then leans forward, pulling you in by the front of your hoodie and kissing you, full and slow and warm like sunlight. itâs like sheâs known it would happen, eventually, and now it has. her hands cradle your face as she pulls away. âtook you long enough.â
you smile against her lips, relief blooming in your chest. âsorry.â
âi forgive you,â she grins. âbut only because youâre cute.â
you groan, bury your face in her shoulder. âi shouldâve asked you when you brought me coffee every morning for a week. or when you stayed up all night helping me with my thesis draft.â
âor when my parents bought you that fancy watch for christmas.â
âokay, yes, that too.â
she plays with the hem of your sleeve. âi wouldâve said yes every time.â
you look down at her fingers brushing yours. âi know.â
and you do. you really doâŠbecause thatâs the difference with sana. with her, thereâs no guessing. just quiet loyalty, kindness that doesnât make you feel small.
you both lie back again, the moment settling into your bones. she squeezes your hand once and doesnât let go and the grass rustles beside you.
you donât say anything more. you donât need to. she knows.
and somewhere, maybe not too far off, you think of jimin â how some things burn out before they ever have the chance to be steady. how sometimes, itâs not about who makes your heart race, but who makes it feel safe to stay.
today, you chose safety. and maybe thatâs what love is now. not the ache of almost, but the warmth of finally.
â§ïœ„ïŸ: *â§ïœ„ïŸ:*
fuck, you didnât plan on seeing her.
not today of all days â when youâre feeling light, even content, walking along the street with a brown paper bag in hand, the apricot pastry tucked neatly inside.
sana had texted you earlier, something about being stuck in a last-minute campaign, promising to make it up to you with takeout and terrible reality tv.
but campus is small, specially after graduation. the cafés are familiar and the corners shared.
jimin.
sheâs sitting alone outside, cup of americano going cold in front of her, a book she isnât reading open on her lap. her hairâs even shorter now, blunt around her jaw and sheâs dressed in black again, like sheâs always bracing for winter, even in the middle of summer.
you think of walking past or turning around, but your feet donât move fast enough and she looks up like clockwork â and there it is. the recognition and the pause. her eyes soften the second they land on you and she lifts a hand in a small wave.
your feet begin walk over. thereâs no ache in your chest now. itâs something softer; nostalgic.
âhey y/n,â she smiles, a bit brighter now.
âjimin!â you sit across from her, slipping the bag onto your lap. your heart isnât racing like before, now itâs a steady thrum, a quiet reminder of everything you used to feel.
âhey,â she repeats, voice low.
still familiar. still jimin.
âhi, how are you doing?â
âiâm well,â her lips twitch into something like a smile. âyou look good.â
you shrug. âso do you. differentâŠi like the short hair, itâs good.â
itâs awkward in a way it always is with exesâŠor whatever you two were.
she nods slowly, as if she knows. âi feel different.â
you glance at the book on her table â something classic, spine cracked, pages annotated in the way she always used to do when she was trying to understand something deeply. you used to love watching her read like that, as if the words meant everything and they were a map.
âi heard about you and sana,â she adds after a beat. not bitter, just factual. âand graduating top of your class isnât an easy feat; iâm so proud of you.â
you nod again, it means a lot coming from her. âweâre doing well.â
thereâs a pause. then she says: âsheâs good to you.â
âshe always has been.â
and jimin looks down, eyes on her coffee. her voice is steady when she speaks; âiâve been thinking a lot. about everything. about how i was with you. with jaewook, withâŠmyself.â
you donât say anything. just listen.
âafter you,â she continues, âi tried to fill the space with noise. with him. with plans that didnât belong to me. i thought maybe if i pretended hard enough, itâd go away. the guilt and the wanting.â
you watch her hands as she speaks. theyâre calmer now. no shaking, no nervous twitching. just open palms, resting on her lap.
âi broke up with jaewook a few weeks after that night at the restaurant. i didnât tell anyone. i think part of me was still waiting for you to come back.â
your chest tightens â not painfully, but enough to remind you that the past isnât as far away as you sometimes pretend.
âbut you didnât,â she adds. âand iâm glad you didnât because it forced me to stop waiting and startâŠchoosing.â
you tilt your head slightly. âchoosing?â
âmyself. finally,â she lets out a breath. âiâm taking over the family business.â
that makes you blink. âreally?â
she nods, chuckling. âyeah, i always thought it was a sentence. something iâd be trapped in. but now itâsâŠmine. i want to do it right. make something out of it that means something. not because they told me to â but because i want to.â
you canât help it; you smile. for her; with her, because you can recognise how far sheâs come.
âiâm proud of you for deciding on that; jimin, the ceo of yu group â canât believe i get to say i knew her.â
jimin looks up then, really stares at you. and for a second, you see her as she was when you first fell in love â messy-haired, sharp-tongued, eyes always searching for something to hold onto.
âthank you for loving me the way you did. i was too young to understand it at the time, too scared and stupid.â
you nod slowly, the words settling somewhere deep inside. âi used to wish youâd been braver.â
âi know,â she smiles, a little sad. âi wish i had been too.â
you both sit there for a while, letting the silence do what words canât. thereâs nothing sharp in the air anymore. no what-ifs or if-onlys; just two people who survived each other.
âi miss you,â she admits, finally.
you meet her gaze. âi miss you too, but i donât miss us.â
itâs gentle, the way you say it, but you can see it hit her â the truth of it. she doesnât cry and doesnât reach for you. instead, breathes in then out.
âand thank you for loving me when i didnât know how to love you back properly.â
you smile, soft at the edges. âyou taught me a lot. even in the mess of it.â
she laughs, a little broken, a little healed. âthatâs the nicest way anyoneâs ever told me i was a total disaster.â
you smile shyly too, brushing imaginary dust off your jeans. âtake care of yourself, jimin.â
âyou too,â she says. âand y/n?â
you pause.
âif you ever need someone to have your back â even if itâs from far away â itâll always be me. what i said that nightâŠi meant it. in every lifetime.â
your throat tightens, offering her a small smile. âi know.â
you walk away, heart strangely light. thereâs no heaviness, but you carry the knowledge that some people are lessons. and some are homes.
sanaâs probably waiting for you back at the apartment now, with her soft playlists and too-large jumpers and the smell of peppermint tea she always forgets to finish, wondering if you remembered the name of the pastry this time.
you did; and this time, youâre bringing it home.
â§ïœ„ïŸ: *â§ïœ„ïŸ:*
the end.
#heliooosss#kpop x reader#kpop gg#kpop imagines#aespa x reader#aespa imagines#aespa#angst#karina#karina imagines#sana imagines#sana x reader#minatozaki sana
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safe with me
content warnings: smut but also a whole lot of fluff (still minors dni!), safe word usage, sub/dom elements, spanking, overstimulation, worried logan, sweet logan, female reader word count: 910 a/n: i recently posted some protective logan head cannons and havenât been able to get them out of my head, so this was born
Logan showed his love in small gestures and grand acts, but his favourite place to prove his undying adoration to you was in the bedroom. He worshipped your body, every inch of it, with rough hands, breath stealing kisses and stamina that left you questioning whether you were in heaven. Your satisfaction and enjoyment were his top priority, a lot more than his own, which is why he had insisted on you choosing a safe word once you started having regular sex. So far, the word had not ever tumbled from your lips and neither of you had thought it would happen today. He was already buried deep within you, your ass up and face down in the pillows, gasping for breath as he thrusted into you. Sweat trickled down and mixed where your bodies met, his skill full fingers pulling another orgasm from your throbbing clit. The slapping sounds of skin on skin filled the room as Logan picked up his pace while he angled his unoccupied hand from your hip to your spine. You felt his steady grip, sweaty and warm, pressing into your skin, dull nails scraping over your nude body as he dug his fingers into you. With a breathless whine you came around his throbbing cock and felt your insides practically vibrate as the heated coil in your core snapped. You had long lost count how often he had made you come this night, but your legs were shaking, and you were hoping this was the last one. Hearing those pretty sounds tumble from your lips seemed to push Logan over the edge. With an animalistic groan he spilled into you, his pelvis pressed flush against your sensitive pussy. The second he caught his breath, his hand came down on your already sore ass, the slap so loud you worried about your neighboursâ sanity. Another high-pitched whimper escaped your throat, and you tried to sink onto the bed, but Logan wrapped an arm around your middle and held you up. âAlready tired, princess?â He asked teasingly, running a much gentler hand over your stinging skin. You mumbled a response that was neither a yes nor a no, and he chuckled. âWords, sweetheart,â his raspy voice raised goosebumps all over your body, âOnes that I can understand.â With a soft groan you attempted to straighten yourself up and felt his still hard cock twitch inside of you at the movement. His stamina was simply not fair. He had fucked you more times tonight than the average person gets laid in a week, but he could still keep going. And how could you deny him when he looked at you like that, like you were the only thing holding his universe together. âYeah,â you mumbled, trying to steady yourself on your knees again, wiggling your ass softly, âTired but not done.â He laughed deeply and replied: âThatâs my good girl,â and the praise made your head spin. However, the second he started moving again, your poor, overstimulated clit began to pulse â and not in the good way. The pleasure that you had expected didnât come as he began work his magic on your sensitive nub; instead, you felt a sharp pain shoot up your spine as the stimulation turned out to be too much. Your face was already tear-streaked â the earlier ones had come from pleasure. Now, tears caused by pain filled your vision and made your brain hazy. Logan didnât still completely but he slowed down as he leaned forward to see get a better glimpse of you. âSweetheart, you alright?â His voice was incredibly soft despite the continuing movements of his hips meeting yours. You wanted to say yes, you wanted to give him just one more round but there was no way you were making it another second without passing out, so you whispered your safe word. Despite the fact that you had mumbled the term so low that you werenât sure if he had even been able to hear it, he halted immediately. âOk, darlinâ,â he murmured sweetly, and attempted to remove himself from you but that just made you cry out again â too much. You just needed a few seconds. âBaby, I just wanna pull out, ok?â He soothed his hands over your back but all you could do in response was shake your head.
âNo⊠donât,â you gasped and so he stayed like this, enveloped by your heat.
He didnât dare move, he simply kept his warm hands on your waist until you nodded softly, and he slipped out. As you let yourself fall onto the mattress, Logan got up, still half hard, and brought you one of his shirts, before he began to run his hands over your back. âAre you alright, princess?â He asked after a couple moments of silence. The ache in your body had dulled down and you managed to lift your head to face him. âYeah, Iâm ok,â you whispered honestly. His face lit up in response, replacing the worried frown with a warm smile. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead softly, then brushed his knuckles across your cheeks to wipe away the tears that had trickled down earlier. In one smooth movement he laid down next to you, wrapping his trained arms around you and placed another kiss in between your shoulder blades. âIâm really proud of you, darlinâ. For tellinâ me to stop when you needed me to. So fuckinâ proud of you.â
thank you for reading :) gentle reminder that likes are more than appreciated but comments and reblogs make the dream work
#logan x you#logan howlett smut#logan x reader#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett#wolverine fic#wolverine x reader#wolverine fanfiction#wolverine x you#wolverine x female reader#wolverine smut#x reader#logan wolverine
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â the fuck-it list â || hq! pt. 5
one || two || three || four
synopsis:Â thereâs a list going around consisting of hot guys on campus that are deemed âfuckableâ with theories as to what theyâd be like in bed. itâs all fun and games until somehow your boyfriend ends up on this list.Â
pairing:Â various x gn!reader [ suna, aran, kita ]
warnings: mature content. MDI. cursing, suggestive language, mild objectification, atsumu slander/bulling (mostly from suna lol), mentions of soft dom/brat-taming, breeding-kink kita supremacy, not proofread so there may be some errors here and there, and I think that's it :]
notes: NO ONE LOOK AT ME THIS TOOK SO FREAKING LONG THAT WE'RE IN A WHOLE NEW YEAR SINCE THE LAST ONE WAS POSTED LOL But, I wanted to make sure I portrayed the characters as accurately as possible, and I've once again been hit with the burnout stick :'))) so thank you so so so so much for your patience, hope you enjoy!
tagged: @daedaep69 , @ahahadumbo , @viktoryn , @mdsb , @ourgoddessathena , @ushygushybaby , @hyori2 , @lumpywolf , @fantasycantasy, @captaincyberqueen, @tsukiran
SUNA's messy as hell, you bet your ass he knows about the list.
Most definitely clowned Atsumu when the whole mix-up between him and Osamu went down a couple weeks ago. He'd poke that dead horse out of pure boredom or just to document his reactions for a laugh later, resulting in some of the most unflattering, yet entertaining footage of your mutual friend that you were certain he'd keep for blackmail.
âYou didnât need the poor guyâs misery in every possible angle you could think of.â You shook your head at him, fighting the grin on your face. Sitting across from him at a booth in the canteen, you pass the time in between classes by letting him show you photo after photo, video after video of Atsumuâs latest performance.
How his storage managed to survive was beyond you.
Suna shrugged, taking a sip from his drink. âSure I did. Need to have variety for when I make merch and sell it at his games. âm thinking tshirts, buttons, stickers, yâknow. The whole nine yards.â
âYouâre terrible.â You shook your head again as you sifted through blurry photo after blurry photo.
âTerribly smart.â
âMm. Debatable.â
âTsk,â he reached over to flick your forehead, âkeep hating and you wonât get a cut of the profit.â Despite him softly glaring at you, he grinned at the giggle you graced him with in response, flicking his forehead back. âAnyway, wanna see the one of him throwing a chair at âsamu for calling him the mid-twin?â
You paused, eyes widening. âHe did not.âÂ
Suna lifted his arm to give you room to lean against his side. Despite your better judgment, and a smidge of pity for the blonde, you couldnât deny he had some pretty priceless reactions that never failed to get a laugh out of you. Plus, it was all in good fun at the end of the dayâNo harm, no foul, right?
Immediately snuggling up to his side, he took the phone back to scroll right to said video, angling it so you could watch it together. You chortled at the sound of your boyfriend behind the camera, panting and laughing as he attempted to hold the camera steady while sprinting away from Atsumu before inevitably getting caught right before the recording abruptly stopped. You blinked in shock, mouth agape as you slowly connected the dots with the last few milliseconds you had. âDid he..Did he tackle you??âÂ
âYep. Like a big, blonde buffalo. Life flashed before my eyes.â
âOh my god,â you replied, hand coming over your mouth as you fought back your giggles. Suna squinted at you, arm that was curled over your shoulder coming down so he could lightly pinch your ear.
âYouâre âposed to laugh at his expense, not mine.â
This only made giggling harder to contain, eventually morphing into cackles as the last few moments of the video replayed in your mind over and over. Suna pursed his lips, placing the phone on the table to free his other hand as it came to pinch your other ear. He tugged on them, not so hard to hurt but enough to get his point across as he pouted at you. âQuit it.â
More laughs bubbled out of you, now at his ridiculous retaliation as he pulled your ears far enough to resemble a monkeyâs. You raised a brow, reaching up to grab at his wrists. âYou quit it.â
âNo, you.â
You squinted. âNo, you.â
âYou.â
âRin-Ow! Stop it, you ass!â
This little back and forth went on for a few minutes, up until it eventually ends with you in a small headlock, biting his forearm in retaliation. It didnât hurt at all, except maybe your pride, especially when you heard the familiar sound of his phone snapping picturesâWhen did he even grab it? You pulled back in shock, looking up and meeting your own gaze on the screen as he rapidly snapped away, even having the nerve to give a peace sign in some of them with the very arm you were latched onto.
You gaped in horror, âNo you didn't! Delete those!â
He hummed in feigned thought, keeping his phone just out of reach as you struggled to snatch it from him. Rin smirked, âNo way, now we both can laugh, babe. We'll call it even.â
With a glare, you opened your mouth to retort but he immediately shut you up by leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, lazily so, and swallowing any protest you tried to voice until you eventually melted into it. You could just feel his smug grin, and you were tempted to bite his bottom lip, but he pulled away before you could commit. He snorted as you still glared at him, although it softened more and more with every kiss he placed on your face to placate your sourness toward him.
Gradually, the kisses started to grow wet, making you squirm away with an annoyed whine, but he merely tightened his hold on you keeping you from getting far. Despite your struggle you couldn't help but laugh, "Ew! Ugh! You're so fucking gross!"
"Mm, gross for you." He placed another to your lips before releasing you. You gently pinched him in retaliation, muttering a small threat to his kneecaps if those photos of you ever saw the light of day.
After the two of you settled back down in a comfortable silence, your mind started to wander back to the discussion from earlier. With the abundance of guys who've been placed on said list so far, Atsumu of all people one of them, you couldn't help but wonder... Looking over at him as he played with his straw, you asked, "Hey...do you think you're on the list?"
Rin paused, then gave a small shrug, "Dunno. Never checked."
You scoffed, "I find that hard to believe. You weren't ever curious?"
"Not really, always thought it was kinda dumb. I only grew mildly interested after 'tsumu threw a tantrum about it, saw it as another way to get on his nerves. Other than that, it's never crossed my mind. Besides, as if I'd give him the satisfaction of knowing I'm on it, too." He blinked, then looked at you. "On second thought, yeah, check and see so I can dox whoever posted it before that knucklehead catches wind."
"Rin." You slapped his arm, knowing he was half-serious. "We can just report it."
He merely shrugged again, internally debating, but didn't say anything as you did some digging on the account to see if anything came up. It helped that the admins of the account started alphabetizing after posting so many entries, it made it easier to navigate through the endless sea of thirst and shameless threads. When you finally made it to the 'R's and noticed how short the section was, you had high hopes. Until, right there plain on your screen, paired with an off-guard photo of him you posted once on your story in past, was his entry.
âRintarĆ Suna. 6â1ft of malicious intent. A straight up walking red flag, but itâs okayâRedâs a sexy color. Definitely the kind of guy whoâd call you âBroâ as a term of endearment, then make out with you while using your ass as a stress ball. He canât keep his hands to himself to save his LIFE yet swears on it that heâs not clingy lol. But donât let the cuddly side of him distract from the fact that he can be such a little SHIT âĄ. Heâd edge you for hours, rearrange your insides like furniture, then have the NERVE to tease you for walking funny. Youâll let it slide thoughâŠhis mouthâs good at other things than just being smart. MASTER at giving head, treats it like an art form, would rather eat a pair of jeans that ever go a day without you on his tongue. 8.5/10. And he for sure takes pictures/videos of you for his viewing pleasure later. Say cheese!â
As you both stared blankly at your screen, him with furrowed brows and you struggling to hold down a smile. Rin eventually kissed his teeth. "Can't even be mad, read me like a damn book. Was this weirdo in the room with us taking notes, or something?"
You chortled, "Don't even joke like that."
"I'm just saying, tweak a few things here and there, you'd think I ghost-wrote this."
"Sooo, I take it you're no longer worried about Atsumu seeing this?"
Suna smirked, "Hell no, at least mine's accurate. Send him the link."
âYour bitch-ass ex is about to piss me off, bro.â
Upon your unannounced arrival into his dorm, courteous of the spar key he gave you for emergencies, you figured now was a good time to exercise that privilege because this was a borderline catastrophe. Granted, you couldâve approached it more delicately, but you were already upset from the nonsense you witnessed on your timeline during your doom-scrolling session.
ARAN gave you a look of disapproval, but decided to address one issue at a time. âFirst of all, weâve kissed. Many times. I am well aways from being a âbroâ. Second, language. Thirdly, when ainât they pissinâ ya off?â
âWhatever, you better getâem before I do. You know Iâm not above drastic solutions, Iâll steal their dog and hold him for ransom, Iâm being so forreal.â
He snorted, shaking his head. Closing his laptop to give you his full attention, nodding at the chair across from him for you to take. âHow âbout we talk first before riskinâ jail.â
You sat down and handed him your phone, âRead that and I bet youâll be on board in seconds.â
Aran squinted at the screen in confusion, scanning over the contents before his eyes widened to the size of volleyballs and jaw dropping to the table. You nodded in triumph having predicted this reaction, smugly crossing your arms as you said, âUh-huh. Bet dog-napping sounds pretty good right about now.â
âNo.â He deadpanned, but still overtly shook. âWhat even is this?â
âItâs called âThe Fuââ a small glare from Aran. You rolled your eyes, correcting yourself, âThe Eff-It Listâ.â
âOk, I can see that. But, what is it?â
You scoffed, âBasically a perverted forum that talks about strangers and their kinks or whatever. Purely speculative for the most part, but recently they started letting people send in their own entries. And yours came straight from the horseâs mouth.â You reached over to point at an all too familiar username, well aware of it being his exâs burner account in their hopes to remain anonymous.
'Aran Ojiro. 6â0ft of tall, dark, and handsome. If youâre searching for a Service Dom with a heart of gold, then youâve come to the right man. When it comes down to the dirty and flirty, this hunk would be an Olympic level threat to the bums in your timeline. Not only plowing a hole straight into your vertebrae but cooking you a bomb-ass meal afterwards that will have you wanting his pants around his ankles for a round who-knows-what. Truly a gentleman, wonât finish until you do at least twice. And aftercare of a God, weâre talking rose petal baths, oil massages, honeyed affirmations, and finishing off with warm cuddles in those beefy arms of his. Yum. Aranâs big on communication; tell him what you like, what you donât like, whatever you say, goes. Will make you feel like royalty but rearrange your insides like a common concubine. This absolute King gets a 100/10 from us.'
The way his face was scrunched up, you would think he ate something sour. Youâve only ever seen him make such a stank face at the twins whenever their bickering escalated to physical violence. He was silent for a long moment as he analyzed the post, re-reading it again and again only to grow more perturbed. He exhaled deeply through his nose before handing you back the phone, reaching into his pocket to grab his own. Aran began to type while you were in the midst of conjuring up your revenge plan.
âSo, I was thinking, they normally walk their dog in the morning before class, like ass-crack of dawn early-â
âLanguage.â
â-and theyâll most likely have their guard down, right? So Iâm thinking youâll hide in the bushes, ready to release the squirrel weâll use as bait, and while theyâre distracted Iâll sneak from behind with a shovel and-â
âThere. Itâs been taken care of.â
The words died in your throat, stunned to silence. You blinked a few times in bewilderment, and watching as Aran set his phone down to open his laptop back up and resume working on his assignment. Mentally floundering, you leaned forward with raised eyebrows, âCome again?â
âTheyâre gonna get the post deleted.â
âWhaâWho?â You squawked.
âMy ex. I sent a DM statinâ that we know theyâre involved and that Iâm not comfortable with this being spread, so unless they want student affairs involved for sexual harassment, they better work on gettinâ that post taken down. Give it a minute, bet itâll be gone.â
You blinked once more. Then, after a few minutes later of more stunned silence, you refreshed the page. Sure enoughâŠhis post wasnât there anymore. Not a trace of it anywhere, as if it never existed. With a disbelieved chortle, you dropped your phone on the table and slumped back in your chair, staring into space. Aran grinned, eyes trained on his laptop screen as he cheekily said, âYa did say getâem before you do.â
With a playful huff, you crossed your arms. âDamn killjoy.â
âLanguage.â
You slowly grinned, mischievously. ââŠShit.â
âOi.â
You raised your hands in mock surrender, relenting as you giggled. Aran shook his head at your antics, resuming his work. However, you leaned forward to push his laptop screen down a little so that his attention was on you once more, pausing his typing fingers. He raised an expectant brow, waiting for you to speak. You gave him a pointed look, âYou blocked them after sending that DM, right?â
He snorted, reaching over to gently pat your head. âAnd reported their account.â
You beamed with satisfaction, leaning back in your chair. âGood. Fuck âemâOop!Waitwait, hang on, it was a slip of the tongue, I forgot, Iâm sorry!â
Aran immediately closed his laptop and began to stand, rounding the table to approach you menacingly, although fear wouldnât be the emotion youâd describe as he closed in on you like prey. You didnât even attempt to make an escape as he scooped you up in his aforementioned beefy arms, squeals following after your giggles as he carried you into the next room, ready to give you what he deemed a suitable punishment for your potty-mouth.
The king hath spoken.
You fought to contain your laughter at the sight of your boyfriendâs gears visibly turning in his head as he stared at your phone screen, brows furrowed and hands on his hips like a dad judging someoneâs front lawn. KITA was at a loss for words, to say the least. Like Aran, it merely confused him upon the first read, and re-reading it over and over aided nothing. You could no longer hold it in when Kita eventually looked at you with a blank face and said, âNot true.â
Tickled, you decided to tease him by feigning ignorance. âHm? You think so? It sounds pretty accurate to me.â
Kita frowned, leaning over your shoulder to re-read it again, just in case he was missing something you were seeing.
'Shinsuke Kita. 5â9ft of calm before the storm. At first, we chalked Kita up as a boring vanilla, someone that doesnât like to step outside of the norm, and blends in with the mundane. However, what would appear to be a dreary missionary nightmare can easily be disputed when you take a deeper look into those carmel hues of his. As weâve mentioned in a previous post, itâs always the quiet ones you need to be cautious of. Sure, heâll invite you over to show off his beautiful garden, innocent enough. WellâŠneedless to say, his garden wonât be the only place he plants his seed. With the right person, and the right amount of pressure, we believe Kita to be a closeted pervert with a RAGING breeding kink. Whether you can or cannot conceive, it doesnât matter to himâMating press, full nelson, prone-bone, you name it, heâs doing it. Then, heâll tell you about what produce is in season as if you arenât fighting for your life right after, continuing his day like he didnât take his time molding your insides to the shape of him. Scary. 10/10'
He shook his head, opinion standing firm. ââs too vulgar. Have I ever been vulgar to ya?â
You pursed your lips, shrugging coyly. âWellâŠthere have been a couple times.â
Kita blinked, then took a minute to think about it. And he thought hard. Slowly, he started to become concerned, contemplating the last time you were intimate in case this were a possibility. Surely you wouldâve told him if he was acting out of lineâŠ
The act doesnât last long, especially when he looked back at you and plainly said, âYer teasinâ me.â
With a small chuckle, you gave up. âFine, you got me. You have been nothing but a gentleman during sex, I wonât argue that. But, you have to admit, there were a few things in here that were spot on.â
âLike what?â He crouched down, continuing his task.
You gestured around, âWellâŠyou did invite me over to look at your garden.â
Kita paused his pruning, looking around at your pointed observation. He hummed, then gave a small shrug. âNot to jusâ sleep with ya afterward. My intentions were strictly pure.â
âOk, fair. But, you do want a family.â
ââs a normal goal to have, and in due time, weâll accomplish it. Once Iâve married ya, of course. That donât make me a âcloseted pervertâ.â
You grinned, crossing your arms. âYou didnât deny the âraging breeding kinkâ part-â
âLook at how well yer favorite sproutâs doinâ, love.â He was quick to change the subject, beckoning you to come see for yourself. You humored him, crouching down next to him in the dirt, and happily gazing over his shoulder to watch him delicately handle your leafy little guy.
But, if you squint, you could see a little tinge of pink in Kitaâs ears.
© 2025-2026 anisespice ă all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!
#đwasabi#PART 5 LETS GOOOO#đšđšđšđš#hq#haikyuu#hq!#hq smut#hq imagines#hq fluff#hq x reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu!!#suna rintarou#aran ojiro#kita shinsuke#the fuck-it list
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Snow At The Beach, I. Day One: Arrival
harry castillo x younger fem!reader
summary: you knew doing things without thinking was bad. so now, of course, your impromptu trip to iceland gets ruined by a man who claims you have ruined his.
warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (late 20s/late 40s), (eventual) smut, s2l, forced proximity, one bed, tons of angst, MATERIALISTS SPOILERS +more specific to be added per chapter!
word count: 3,266 words
side note: i feel like a man who fathers too many kids who he can't take care of lmao very fitting since it's father's day in my country!! i do have a present loving dad so i'm afraid my dilfism has been earned by other worse reasons. fun fact, it's also my 21st bday! yey (ă„àčâąáŽâąàč)ă„đ shot out too to the daddiest non-dad out there, pedro pascal!!!! (i know some of these things like hotel mishaps don't make sense since it's supposed to be a luxury place but idc do it for the plot!)
part: prev | masterlist | next
He feels stupid. Sitting at the airport with luggage for a week and a ticket to Iceland that felt more like a reckless choice every passing hour and less like the romantic getaway he envisioned. Surrounded by families, friends, couples and people by themselves who certainly don't look as miserable as he does. Lonely. His gaze lingers on the lovers, as some sort of punishment. He thinks of his brother and his recent marriage and the girl who got away. Lucy. He still doesn't know how to feel about it, but he definitely isn't feeling sunshine and rainbows.
Just stupid.
Harry Castillo, billionaire, deceived by the promise of love, taken away from him by a broke waiter of all people.
He boards the plane with rage, holding his handbag so tightly, the stewardess posted at first class asks him if he's okay. He nods, but he knows he's far from it. Spends all the five hours checking his email and pending files, yet he also knows he cares about it as much as he cares about his brother's Things To Do In Iceland list. Hiking, whale watching, romantic waterfalls and the promise of a wet enchanted kiss. Those were things to do for couples. Harry is fucking alone.
Sitting next to him is a man who snores. Too loud. His eye ticks. Who sleeps on a fucking five hour flight? Alright, Harry is irritable at the moment; he thinks he's right about this though.
The plane lands in between the views of white-coated mountains and green grass. Some people clap. Harry hates people who clap when a plane lands.
Who would've thought a real romantic and composed businessman could be this full of hate?
It's Lucy's fault.
Now, Harry's moved to the stage where he blames everyone else. Not shared guilt, just her fault. Entirely hers. For her icy blue eyes, like the lakes behind his window. As well as cold. For fawning at his apartment but not at his kisses. For acknowledging he was great. Because even then, she chose not to stay.
As the car drives to his chosen hotel, the TorfhĂčs retreat, he thinks about her again. Lucy and him. Blames her for not opening up. But, he didn't either. Slept facing the other side after their first night together, hiding scars under expensive bed sheets. On his knees and on his heart. Hard to love, wanting to. Embarrassed to feel all at once and even more to admit it out loud.
This time, as the car parks outside and he asks the driver for a few minutes to get out and accept he's on this trip completely by himself, Harry's at the stage where he takes all the blame. For expecting. For wanting. For forcing himself on her, because she did say she wasn't what he needed. But they did work out. Maybe he didn't try too hard. That he should've been honest about the surgery, despite it being eight years ago. Maybe he tried too hard.
Either way, Harry has lost.
He sighs one last time and gets down the car. His bags are already inside the lodge.
He's about to get inside the lobby when a figure walks past him, touching the handle before him.
"Sorry. You go first" to the unknown person, then reaches his hand, because despite the quiet anger and heartbreak, Harry Castillo's still a gentleman. Then holds the door open for them.
"Thank you" voice impossibly soft. To be confused with meek, but it sounds rather resigned.
They go inside, and that's when Harry notices it's a woman.
He notices other things, always an observer. Her walk, composed. She's pretending, he thinks. Her hair, held tight by a ponytail and the way it swings with each step she takes. But it's her floral perfume that catches his attention the most. He hates cheap perfume. Still, Harry can deduce it's not expensive yet not cheap smelling either. Just... natural. As in effortless. He decides he's okay with that.
"Hello" he follows behind closely as if they came together, unable to resist a weird pull. "I made a reservation last week. Room 10"
Direct to the point. Harry hates people who talk too much. Who bullshit and lie. Which is funny, given his... Nevermind. Embarrassing.
Harry would like this, if it wasn't for the fact that number 10 is his exact same room.
You are not an spontaneous person.
Not boring either, just nothing that makes you stand out in a crowd. Another young adult with a career, a cat, and a boyfriend.
You jog every morning and pay your taxes on time. You do groceries on Sundays and cleaning on Mondays. Your circle of friends is small and you hang out every two weeks at brunch. You take the same route to work, having memorized it by now. You have goals, dreams, ambitions and a clear mind.
Keeping a straight head won you a job that allowed you to buy an apartment in lower Manhattan. Home.
You remember the first thing you bought: a small forget me not that died three weeks later. An omen of the heartbreak to come.
What died was the most important thing one should nurture.
Love.
It was a slow death, too quiet to even notice. Subtle. Late office nights, arriving at a house cold and silent. The darkness that awaits the ones who aren't being waited for. Silk sheets replacing cheap ones but gone the warmth of two bodies who searched each other even when the weather wasn't cold.
You can't remember the last time he held you close like someone worth to keep. The last time you went on dates, first because of time and then nothing at all. Just not doing it. Like you didn't eat together anymore. Or that he kept forgetting your favorite things, things he held before close to his heart, as sacred as a prayer or a secret language only you could understand.
The language written in vows. The one when you swear your heart to only one person for the rest of your life.
Then it came down with a scream. Even later nights, but the previously occupied bed was now empty. It filled in the morning, but your heart stayed empty. In the tense air lingered the things unsaid and a perfume that wasn't yours.
You threw things, bit back like a wounded dog. And he returned the pain, doubled it.
"I'm seeing someone else"
You felt the shame and anger reside in your veins. Deceived. Almost a decade with him but she had taken the last dying months, and somehow, even if she had less, in the end, she won. The other woman. The one who was this prettier newer shiny toy that had taken your spot.
"I love her"
Words you thought would always be only yours. The promise of a husband to a wife.
So, in spite, childishly maybe, you took the saved money you had in your bank account and booked a flight to the farthest place you could come up with.
That's why you're sitting at KeflavĂk airport alone.
Iceland.
Booked a one-week stay in one of Iceland's most expensive hotels. TorfhĂčs retreat: cozy cabins in Selfoss, dressed in modern luxury.
"You could've used that money for a good lawyer" your bestfriend Danna chastised. "I know one. Her office is in upper Manhattan. She's a nepo baby, but trust me, she's great. Amazing"
But you needed to get away.
For just a moment, five thousand kilometers away, you could pretend everything was fine and your life hadn't turned upside down in a matter of weeks.
That your cat meowed in anguish, asking for his absence, present in his empty side of the bed and lack of clothes in the closet.
That seeing your pictures replaced with hers didn't bring you to tears.
That there wasn't a permanent ache in your heart.
Among the waterfalls, mountains and green grass, you could show the world you weren't crying in bed for what was already over.
No, twenty-seven year old Y/n, soon to be a divorcee, could have fun among one of the greatest sadness a person could experience.
"So, Iceland?" Danna asks, finally after you had sent a picture of the airport bar you were sitting at. Well, camping at. Trying to gather some courage to face a divorce and that getaway you always imagined, but by yourself.
"Yeah, mother fucking Iceland"
You had never traveled alone before. Took a long gulp of your BrennivĂn and prayed for courage.
Upon arrival, you lowered your expectations and hoped just for a good trip. When a man walked before you, almost colliding into you, but realized and held the door, a gesture so small yet one you hadn't experienced in so long, it made flush rush to your cheeks.
"Sorry. You go first" and his voice is so deep and raspy, every hair in your body raises to its command. It wraps you. Soothing. Like velvet.
"Thank you" you manage to say, and even if you sound tired, you try to express the warm feeling of gratitude.
You don't think he notices your voice crack, or how each step you take is labored. That you haven't been okay for a long time and that his gesture has had an effect on you, bigger than you'd like to admit.
As you walk to the front desk, you notice the man walking close to you, his perfume and faint smell of cigarettes wafting through the air.
"Hello" you pull out your printed reservation (yes, printed. You were just that prepared). "I made a reservation last week. Room 10"
You hear the door guy stop. The man from the desk hands you the key. A throat clears up behind your back.
"No, that can't be" and a little nervous yet entitled laugh.
You turn around. "Sorry, where you talking to me?"
The man nods, smile condescending.
"I think you're mistaken, miss"
"Y/n" you cut a bit harshly, the small chivalry long forgotten.
You're tired, sad and angry. You just want to go lay down and sleep your sorrow away.
"Y/n" he repeats, and you shouldn't enjoy how much it sounds on his gravely voice. Not when he's treating you like this. How was this the same man who held the door for you?
"Yes?"
"I said I think you're mistaken"
"I don't understand" you blink, slowly.
The man behind the counter starts to look distressed. "Allir, róið ykkur niður" (everyone, calm down)
"Room 10... That's my room"
You laugh and dangle the key in front of his face.
"No, it's mine"
The man looks at you like you're a naive kid.
"Here" he pulls out his own reservation paper. Printed as well. You ex-husband used to say it was a waste of paper. You'd like to prove him wrong and make this a silly Look, we're the same! moment, except this man is far from your friend. "Now you believe me?"
Room 10.
"Ăg held að ĂŸað hafi orðið mistök" (i think there's been a mistake)
You start to loose your patience. "Listen, mister-"
"Harry" with the same icy tone you'd used.
"Harry" you repeat, hating how smoothly it slides across your tongue. Almost as if you were born to say it. "I made this reservation last week"
The smug grin he sports irks you. "I did it a month ago"
"Kannski var ĂŸað tölvan. Eða nĂœjasti gaurinn" the man says. He's started to sweat by now. (maybe it was the computer. or the newest guy)
You tap your feet against the floor, both impatient and annoyed. "So?"
The man smiles, enjoying this.
"By that logic, the room's mine" he replies cooly, pleased.
The color drains from your face. What are you supposed to do? You don't know the country or the language, not to mention the obscene amount of money you've wasted.
"And what am I supposed to do?" you ask, helpless.
"Book somewhere else" he drops, carelessly.
"Do you think money grows from trees!?" you raise your voice, losing your temper. Maybe it's the accumulated stress, because you never shouted at anyone. At least, not since you last argued with your ex-husband.
He doesn't answer to that.
"If you expect me to search for another place right now" you find your voice again, lower yet still sharp, "you're dumber than you look"
He scoffs. "You're dumb if you think you can book a place a week before your trip"
You laugh dryly. "Says the guy who's telling me to book a hotel right now"
He chuckles, a bit less meaner. "Fair"
"You're forgetting something, though"
Harry raises an eyebrow. "Yes?"
You grin, victoriously. "I got the key"
"I still have more rights to it" he says with a bit of a whine.
"What about manners? Women go first!"
"And your own? Don't be a child and accept I booked it first so I deserve it"
"You're ruining my trip!" you protest, spiteful.
Harry is as angry and irritable as you.
"So are you!"
The man behind the lobby, an elder man with ashes for hair who introduces himself as Axel the housekeeper, stands in between.
"Wait!"
You both turn at the man who had remained behind the safety of his desk, both nervous and distressed.
"You speak English?" Harry asks.
"Little" he replies, more embarrassed about the situation than his language knowledge.
"Thank God" you sigh, a little too relieved. "Please, help us"
"I try, just stop shouting. Guests don't like"
Your face feels hot and Harry's ears turn red at the tip. For some reason, seeing the once intimidating man who could easily own a room blush out of embarrasment is kind of adorable.
Ugh. You so need to get laid. Get yourself a viking, Danna had said.
"Sorry. We got nervous. A bit altered" you utter.
"I apologize as well" but he isn't looking at you. "We just want to understand why we both have the same room"
"I told her. Bad idea" he sighs, shaking his head. "Wife cares of this. She sick. New guy came. He ruined it" Axel points to the computer. "I not good with this. Nor english. Wife is"
You can't help but smile at the hint of hidden adoration the explanation carries. "She sounds like a great woman"
"A true keeper" Harry agrees. He can't help but be a romantic, despite it all.
(Despite never falling in love. Not knowing how to love. What it is to be loved)
You look at the him, stunned for agreeing with you or maybe at the way there's yearning laced within his words. Your eyes briefly dart to his finger without a ring, wondering. He catches your view when you raise it, which makes you turn away, embarrased.
"The best" Alex agrees with both of you. "Anna is the love of my life"
Something about growing old and counting wrinkles on the face of a lover. The tale of years passed but love standing across time. All that's left is the ache of the person you imagined spending the rest of your life with, slipping through your fingers until he wasn't yours. Like he never was.
"Hey, I have solution" he takes out another key from the drawer and hands it to Harry. "Here"
Harry takes it, examines it and then looks back at Axel, confused.
"It's for Room 10"
"Yes" like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
He blinks, slowly. "I'm not getting it"
Axel smiles, as if the answer is easy.
"Yes. You two share room"
It takes a few seconds for both of you to react.
"What?!" you shout in unison.
"That doesn't make any sense" Harry says.
"Yeah" you concede. "There's no way I'm sharing a room with him"
Harry scoffs, crossing his arms.
"What makes you think I would share a room with you?"
"Is the solution I have" Axel shrugs. "I apologize but it's only one"
You sigh, sitting on a chair while rubbing your temples. Your head and feet hurt. Your eyes are heavy and you feel like crying.
"I can't believe it... this is why I plan things on advance"
Harry rolls his eyes. "Maybe you learned your lesson"
"Oh, definitely" you roll your eyes as well, standing up in front of him, tone daring. "Never book a luxury hotel full of snotty and arrogant people like you"
"Yeah, and I'd choose better than a hotel who allows anyone"
"Actually, we have policies-"
You both interrupt Axel with a hard "Shut up!"
He backs away, raising his hands in defeat. You finally react then.
"Look" you say, taking a deep breath and clapping your palms together for any semblance of peace. "Shouting won't take us anywhere"
He pinches the bridge of his nose, tired. "Alright. What do you suggest then?"
You take out your phone, asking Axel for the Wi-Fi. Once you get signal, you do a quick search for hotels in Selfoss. All of them are as expensive if not more than this one. Why even bother? Not like you had any money left.
"The closest hotel is almost three miles away. And it's small" you comment, looking at the picture. "I'm pretty sure it's all booked"
You give him a little look. The disarming look, as Danna would joke. The look that won you free drinks and your ex-husband to look your way the very first time.
"No" he picks up, immediately. It seems Harry might be the only man inmune to it.
"It's the only way" you speak, stern. "Don't think I'm happy about it"
"Good" Harry seconds, acidic. "Neither am I, just to be clear"
"Just to be clear" you replied, annoyed. Probably at the fact it feels like a subtle rejection. Not like you care, anyway.
Harry looks at his bags on the floor and you look at your own. The clock reads nine, and after such an emotional rollercoaster, you feel the need for a good bath and a comfy bed. After a few moments of silence, Harry speaks, defeated.
"Are we really doing this?"
"Unless you want me to drive twenty miles to the biggest hotel in Selfoss. And pay for it"
I could, he thinks, but chooses to remain silent. "I'm not cruel"
Your lips curve up slightly. "I'm sure if good ol' Axel wasn't here, you would've wrestled me for this key to death"
Harry rolls his eyes, but a faint smile adorns his face.
"You're lucky I skipped Taekwondo classes"
"Taekwondo?" you chuckle, in disbelief. "I'd never imagine so. You look like a... finance guy"
"Can't a guy be both?" voice lighter, almost playful.
You giggle. "A millionaire fighting? Only if you're Batman"
He sends a wink your way, disarming you. "Maybe I am"
There is something about the man standing before you. Something that makes it impossible to hate him, even as annoyed as you are. Something that draws you to him. Impossible to ignore. A pull that bent knees and hearts.
Axel's raspy voice cuts the moment. "When room is empty, I'll give you new key"
"I like the sound of that" you agree. Then, you hold your hand up. "Temporary roomates?"
Harry chuckles at your antics, but accepts your hand nonetheless. His palm is so big, it practically swallows yours. It's firm and warm, the security of his dominant handshake engulfing you. You haven't realized you've held for longer than necessary until Axel intervenes about showing you your room.
"Temporary roomates it is"
Yet some things are meant to be forever, and you had a feeling Harry hadn't just crashed your vacation plan but your life.
cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas / dts: @thecamiladiazuniverse @kaliispunk @manuymesut @QueenoftheAmazons
#dilfistwrites#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedrito#harry castillo#harry castillo x reader#harry castillo x you#harry castillo fic#harry castillo fanfic#harry castillo smut#harry castillo materialists#materialists#materialists fanfic#materialists fic#a24#to love you is to know you series#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#josé pedro balmaceda pascal#pedropascal#pedrohub#pedro pascal gifs#harry castillo fanfiction#the materialists#harry castillo gif#masterlist#harry castillo x y/n#harry castillo x f!reader#harry castillo x female reader#materialists spoilers
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A Man with a Mission in Two or Three Editions
Bob Floyd x Reader
1.9k words
Warnings: None. Fluff, Bob being a shy cutie, Rooster being a cocky wingman, a tiny bit of language
A/N: Trying something a little different after rewatching Top Gun: Maverick! I hope y'all like it â€ïž
Bob was a bookworm. To probably no oneâs surprise, heâd been a voracious reader from the time he was still learning his ABCâs on Sesame Street. He was always the kid reading under the covers with a flashlight past his bedtime, annoying his teachers by finishing novels weeks ahead of the class schedule, crashing into light posts and trees because he just couldnât take his nose out of his book. Hell, sometimes Phoenix had to grab a book out of his hand and stuff it in her purse in the middle of the Hard Deck bar because heâd missed his turn at pool. The man simply loved to read.
But somehow, that wasnât the reason he spent so much time at the bookshop he was standing in on this drizzly Saturday morning. No, that would be the pretty pair of eyes that followed him from the cash register, the ones that always seemed to sparkle a bit brighter when the little ringing bell announced his arrival.
Normally, Bob liked to come in by himself, so he could quietly gaze at you while you shelved books or helped other customers, customers who werenât rendered speechless by simply standing too close to you. It was a smidge ridiculous, he admitted to himself. He was in the Navy, a TOPGUN graduate, someone who, despite his bashful appearance, didnât shy away from danger. But oh, he definitely shied away from the cute bookstore owner who smiled despite his fumbled one-word answers to the questions you asked about the books he bought. Those embarrassingly one-sided conversations were the highlight of his day. His week, really. Just the two of you in the quiet of your cozy little shop.
But no, not today. Today, Bradshaw just had to tag along. âNothin' better to do,â his buddy had mumbled with a nonchalant shrug when Bob asked if he was sure he wanted to come to the bookstore.
Now, Rooster snuck up behind Bob, who was craning his neck around a bookshelf to get a glimpse of you, still managing to look cute despite the bored look on your face as you counted change in the register.
âGuess now we know why youâre in here all the damn time,â he teased, loud enough to make Bobâs cheeks burn red as he prayed you didnât hear. âReading three books a week, my ass.â
Bob let out a little huff as he turned towards Rooster, gritting his teeth. âLower your voice,â he hissed.
âWhy?â Rooster continued, his smirk growing when he saw how he was getting under his friendâs increasingly blushing skin. His eyes flickered to you before he called out, âHey, honey? This ainât a library, is it? Do I have to watch my volume?â
Your playful eyes flickered to Bob before settling on Roosterâs smug face. âNormally Iâd say no need,â you started slowly. âBut if youâre bugging my favorite customer there, I might just need to adopt a noise level policy.â
Favorite customer. The two little words danced in Bobâs ears, which were currently a deep shade of red. Despite the fact that he was here every Saturday morning like clockwork- and sometimes more than that if he could manage- and the fact that you always tried to engage him in conversation at the register, Bob hadnât quite been sure you knew he existed until this moment. Heâd been so sure he was just another customer, someone who blended in with every other person who walked through your door. Surely, you had plenty of customers who flirted with you; how was he, with his monosyllabic responses, supposed to stand out?
Still, there you were, smiling at him as Rooster clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave him a little shove. Bob stumbled forward, clutching the book heâd been carrying around, and approached your little counter.
He adjusted his glasses as he laid the book down in front of you. âJust this one today,â he murmured, barely loud enough for you to hear.
But you were used to his quietness. You liked it. âThatâs one of my favorites,â you mused as you took your time finding the bar code that you couldâve found in your sleep. âYouâll have to tell me what you think.â
He nodded absently, his hands fidgeting on the countertop while he watched you scan the book. âSure.â With a glance over his shoulder, he met Roosterâs eyes; his friend held his hands up, urging Bob to say something, anything, else. âAm I really your favorite customer?â he blurted out.
The small chuckle you breathed out made his heart skip a beat. âWell, one of my favorites,â you corrected, teasing dripping from your voice. âThereâs also this dog that comes in with his elderly owner all the time, and this little toddler whose mom had brought her in since she was just a few months old.â Something sparkled in your eyes as you leaned forward on the counter and slid the book towards him. âBut youâre definitely in the top three.â
âWhatâs he have to do to take first place?â Bob didnât notice Rooster slink over to the register, but now one of those heavy arms slung over his shoulders. âHelp a guy out,â he added with a wink.
Was Rooster flirting with you for him? Bob wondered with a wince. This was certainly a new low.
If you thought Roosterâs intervention was lame, you didnât show it. In fact, your gaze remained firmly on Bob, although your words were in response to Roosterâs question. âHow can he take first place,â you repeated with a small hum. âMaybe by asking for my number?â The smile you flashed Bob would have been enough to bring a man back from the brink of death. âHimself, though. No help from the peanut gallery.â
The air caught in Bobâs throat mid-breath. Sure, sometimes women flirted with him- but really, they were flirting with the uniform, not Bob. You, on the other hand, were smiling at the man in glasses who bumbled around your shop a couple times a week and trembled whenever you not-so-accidentally brushed your fingers against his while handing him his purchases. Just Bob.
He shrugged off Roosterâs arm and stood up straight as he could, the way he did whenever an admiral or captain walked by. Deep breath, he reminded himself as he clenched and unclenched his fists. She wants you to ask.
âDo you think I could get your number?â he asked, his voice sounding unfamiliar to his own ears.
That lovely smile widened as you leaned your cheek on your hand. âDepends what you plan to do with it,â you said. Challenged, really. After months of trying to get this guy to respond to your flirting, you were making him work for this. Just a little.
His throat went dry. Oh damn. âIâŠâ He blinked, hoping he didnât suddenly look as small as he felt. âI could use to⊠call you?â Your raised eyebrows urged him on. He kind of liked it, the way you emboldened him. He wanted more of it. âI would call you,â he repeated, a little more sure now. âAnd⊠Iâd ask you out. For coffee.â Oh heck, it was so cute the way you wrinkled your nose. âDinner,â he tried again; you rewarded him with the return of that dazzling smile. âAnd-and weâd talk all about the books weâve read and the books you think I should read, and Iâd ask you about your store and Iâd even talk about my job, if you wanted me to. And Iâd take you home after and walk you to your door and-â He swallowed hard, the flush on your cheeks giving him the courage to go full-speed ahead, fast as the fighter jet heâd just been flying the day before. âAnd before you go inside, Iâd ask to see you again and if I could kiss you goodnight.â
After what felt like an eternity of you staring at Bob, studying him, you finally let out an amused little hum. âThatâs the most Iâve ever heard you say,â you mused, drumming your fingernails on the book that still sat between the two of you. âPromise youâll talk that much at dinner?â
Relief flooded his chest as he nodded. âYes maâam.â He cleared his throat. âIâll talk as much as you want me to.â
âIâll hold you to that.â Still holding his gaze, you reached over for a flyer advertising a book and wine night you were hosting the following week- an event Bob had already decided heâd be going to, of course- and used a glittery blue pen to scribble down your name and number. âIâm free tonight, by the way.â
Dazed was the only word to describe Bob as he took the flyer from you. âTonight,â he echoed, a smile finally stretching across his face. âIâll, uh, see you tonight.â He looked down at the flyer, admiring your looping letters, the way the glittery ink caught the light, your name- oh. âIâm Robert, by the way,â he blurted out. âOr Bob. Everyone calls me Bob. Itâs my callsign.â
It looked like now that you had him talking, he didnât know how to stop. And it was pretty damn cute, if you were being totally honest. âNice to finally meet you, Bob.â
âNice to meet you too.â His shoulders finally relaxed as he just stared at you, the ghost of a smile on his face. âReally nice.â
He probably would have stayed there all day, just taking in the sight of your pretty smile and basking in the pride of finally successfully speaking more than two words to you. But Bradshaw clapped a hand on his shoulder, breaking his gaze from yours.
âWhy donât we let this lady get back to work,â he suggested with a shit-eating grin, âand I help you figure out where youâre taking her for dinner tonight?â
Bob nodded, quickly turning his eyes back to you; oh, thank God, you were still smiling at him. âIâll see you later,â he promised, raising his hand in a half wave as Rooster finally started dragging him away. âAnd- and Iâll call you.â
 âYou better,â you teased, casually tossing his forgotten book to him; he barely caught it. âBecause Iâm looking forward to answering your question.â
He paused in the doorway, brows furrowed. âMy question?â
You nodded, eyes flittering up and down his figure. âWhether or not you can kiss me.â
âOh.â He looked down, all of his bashfulness returning with a vengeance. When he looked back at you, you were still grinning. âI hope you say yes,â he admitted, barely loud enough for you to hear.
âGuess youâll find out tonight.â You offered him a little wave as Rooster yanked him out the door. âBye, Bob.â
âGoodbye-â But the door had already closed behind him. Bob allowed Rooster to drag him down the block a ways before finally regaining control of his steps. When he looked at his friend, he found the smuggest grin waiting for him.
Rooster chuckled and ruffled Bobâs hair. âYou donât gotta thank me,â he razzed. âJust promise me Iâll be the best man at your wedding.â
Bob grinned and shoved his friend off him. âI think Phoenixâll fight you on that one. Sheâs already called dibs.â He glanced down at the flyer and book in his hands, reminders that your conversation really just happened. That you actually wanted to go out with him- and might even let him kiss you.
Heâd barely settled into the passenger seat of the car when he pulled out his phone and began typing, ignoring Roosterâs knowing smirk. Sure, maybe it was a little sooner than you expected. But Bob couldnât help himself; while he didnât usually read love stories, he knew that he wanted this one to begin as soon as possible.
#bob floyd#bob floyd top gun#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd x you#bob floyd fic#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd fluff#bob floyd fanfiction#top gun fanfiction
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â©ïž” ìŁŒëŹž â MIROTIC!





â You want me, you've fallen for me You're crazy about me, you can't escape me I got you under my skin (Ooh) ⊠â
†pairing: like crazy!park jimin x shy fem!reader
†genre: smut, fluff, angst, rom-comy vibes, friends-with-benefits, s2l2f2l (they did some things out of order), idiots to lovers, college!au, fuckboy!au, reverse harem, mutual pining, "unrequited love," she fell first but he fell harder.
†wc: 9.3k
†summary: sleeping with your long-time crush was not how planned to confess your undying love to him, but if it was the only way you could be close to him then so be it. jimin's had a lot of lovers, and you're one of them, but why the fuck is he so bothered by the thought of you being with someone else?
†rating: nsfw/explicit - proceed with caution!
†warnings: fuck boy!jimin, popular "it" boy!jimin, shy "loser" girl!reader, lowkey toxic!jimin (i'm not sorry!), making out, bathroom sex, public sex, exhibitionism, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, A LOT of dirty talk, kinda shitty aftercare sorry, protected sex (pocket condoms đ), JEALOUS jimin like holy shit, possessiveness, angst for a min, heavy pining, feelings realization, miscommunication, arguing, emotionally constipated!jimin, love confessions, angst with a happy ending (sorry nammy :/), not everyone gets a cameo this time sighs sadly.
†date posted: march 9, 2025
†authors note: HEY HEY HEY!!! bet you guys didn't expect this one!!! (i didn't either, random inspo struck me), but literally every single idea i've ever posted about IS sitting in drafts, and this one has been halfway done for weeks, so i figured i'd put it out there as i work on some of my other bigger pieces!
i ALSO just wanted to pop in here and say WOW, thank you so much for your support like... the feedback for my account has been phenomenal, and i want you all to know how touched i am!
with that out of the way, i hope you guys enjoy this fwb!au because wow was this a big one!
đ êȘà§ masterlist

â preface: i only use bts as face claims! they are my muses, so anything they say or do, do not reflect their real life character!

The first time you ever talked to Jimin was when you had sex with him.
Now you know that sounds bad!Â
But you had no idea what to do when he had come to you as you hovered awkwardly against one of the walls in the house party you had been forced to attend.
You were the designated driver for all intents and purposes, so the red solo cup that you had clasped in your hand was nothing but plain sprite, which was used as a mixer.Â
âQuite the devilish combinationâ You couldnât help but think as you swirled the carbonated liquid around boredly.
The room was stifling, filled to the brim with inebriated, sweaty bodies.
You were surrounded by sex, drugs and alcohol, some couples impatiently groping each other in the corner closests to you, and you forced yourself to look down, your cheeks warm at the blatant show of⊠affection.
It stunk, the music was too loud, and there were so many places you would rather be than here, like back home in your dorm studying, or watching an episode of your favorite show.
You didnât fit into places like this, and you were one-hundred percent sure you had that fact stamped to your forehead.
The only pleasant part about this whole experience had been being able to see Jimin.
He was quite popular, and worlds away from you, but you couldnât help but harbor a school yard crush on the pretty boy.Â
He was just⊠tantalizing, with the way he spoke to the way he always held himself with a slight air of seduction. Boys and girls alike were ready to drop to their knees with so much as a word from the man, and youâre ashamed to say that youâre no different.
It was embarrassing, really, with how hard and fast you fell in love with somebody you barely knew, but he shared so much of himself, you felt as though you knew enough.
You know heâs funny, and kind, despite the⊠whorish, reputation that precedes him.
Youâre in no place to judge, truly, because if he were to come up to you right now asking you if you would like to have sex with him, you would say yes.
âLame party, right?â Sounds a voice from beside you.
You jump ten feet in the air, a bit of your drink spilling out over the edge of the cup as you fumble to keep the damn thing still in your hand.
âUh â yes?â You answer with a slight grimace, your stomach drops to your ass when said host appears next to you.
Park fucking Jimin.
This was not what you meant! Not so suddenly! Not like this!
You stare at him dumbly as you spiral, and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his plush lips.
âYou think?â He asks teasingly.
You instantly stumble to recover from your mistake. âNo! Yes, no, I⊠I just ââ Youâre blubbering like an idiot, and Jimin seems to take great pleasure at reducing you to a flustered mess, but he relents with a laugh.
ââM just kidding.â
âNo! I just⊠Iâm not used to going to this sort of thing.â
âOh?â Jimin questions with a raised brow.Â
You put your drink on the small refreshment table next to you so you can wring your hands together as a nervous tick.
âIâm my friend's designated driver for the night, and they knew I wouldnât be doing anything, soâŠâ
âThatâs selfless of you.â He compliments, and warmth spreads from the roots of your hair all the way to the tips of your toes. âAh,â You try to wave him off. âItâs⊠itâs nothing. I donât mind.â
âBut also that makes sense.â Your brows furrow. âWhat makes sense?â You ask.
He bombards your space, hooded eyelids giving you a once over.
Youâre suddenly very aware of how dirty and scruffed your converses are, and you fidget a bit under his scrutinizing gaze.
âThat you havenât come to one of my parties before, because Iâd recognize your pretty face anywhere.â
Your eyes widened.
Holy shit. Was he hitting on you?
âOh!â You laugh nervously. âThatâs⊠thatâs very sweet of you.â You gulp.
His smirk only gets deeper, and he leans closer so that his breath caresses the shell of your ear. If his intention is for you to be able to hear him over the music, heâs doing beyond a wonderful job at succeeding.
Your eyelids flutter rapidly, and your hands shake, and you have no idea where to put them as you lean back slightly.
âWhat do you say we go somewhere else?â He asks with a purr, pulling away just enough to gauge your reaction to his proposition.
Now, youâre not an easy girl. Jimin may sleep with anyone he wants, but youâre just not into that sort of thing, and you know better than to â
âYes, please.â It comes out as a slight whimper, but he hears you nonetheless, because he takes you by the hand and pulls you through the throngs of people.
Your stomach is tied up in knots, and youâre not even sure if youâre still connected to reality.
Instead of taking you upstairs and into his room like you thought he would, he redirects you into the hallway and into the door, and your stomach drops slightly when he turns on the light to reveal a bathroom.
âItâs niceâ You try to convince yourself, but your train of thought is cut off when a pair of heavy hands lay themselves on your jean-covered hips, pulling you closer to his body and trailing his lips up the side of your neck.
Your breath hitches and you let out a small, âOh.â
âDo you still want this?â He murmurs into your ear once more, and you find yourself nodding rather enthusiastically, much to your embarrassment. Jimin just chuckles.
He spins you around, and your eyes land on the slope of his neck that disappears into his leather jacket. Fingers tuck themselves under your chin and force you to look at him.
âYouâre a shy one.â He coos, and you shiver when his thumb caresses the corner of your mouth, dipping into it just a bit.
âIâm not used to this.â You admit with a self-deprecating grimace. âWhat a shame.â Is all he says before tilting your head back and connecting your lips.
The kiss is soft, softer than you would have expected from your soon to be hookup.
Youâve heard through the grapevine that heâs rather ferocious with his kissing, with spit and teeth, but somehow still making sure it's nice for his partner.
He cups your wrists and guides your hands to tangle themselves in his black mullet, and youâre relieved to be able to do something with your hands.
A whimper escapes you when his palms press you to him by the lower part of your back, turning you to the nearest wall for balance.
Soon, the kiss turns hungry, and you can feel the strain of him against his tight black pants, and you tremble, like putty in his hands.
You try your best to keep up with him, kissing back with a lot more fervour than youâve ever done before.
Youâve had sex once, and that was just because you wanted to lose it before college, just so you could say you did it.
It was awkward because it was with one of the guys from your English class, and he looked like he didnât know what he was doing either. It was stiff and it burned, and you werenât sure if you were even turned on enough to participate in penetrative sex.
Well, the same canât be said for you now, because you can feel the material of your panties grow damp with arousal, sticking to your folds and causing slight friction.
Itâs when Jimin finally rolls his hips into yours is when you finally let out a true, loud moan.
âThought you were going to be quiet all night.â Jimin teases, and you flush. âI - Iâm sorry.â You mutter against his lips.Â
He pulls back and strokes your cheek with the back of his knuckles. âRelax. âM just teasing.â
âRight, right.â You laugh demurely.
He lowers his head to the skin of your neck where he takes the skin of it between his teeth, and your hips buck into his on accident.
âShit!â You curse, and you slap a hand over your mouth. âYou like pain.â He says almost to himself. âDefinitely noted.âÂ
Youâre not sure what he means by that, but your mind seems to blank when his hands sneak their way to the button of your jeans, fiddling with the metal. That cursed thumb presses into the skin above the hem.
âDo you still want this?âÂ
âYes, please.â You whimper. Jimin grins and you can feel it, because he places a gentle kiss on the surface. âHow polite.â
You swallow a whine at his praise.
He pops them open with practiced ease, and pushes a hand into your pants, hissing when he comes in contact with your wetness.
âFuck, youâre this wet just from kissing?â He asks in awe.
Jimin finally finds himself in your panties and you gasp when the tips of his fingers press on your clit.
âThere it is.â He says to himself triumphantly.
Heâs quick to flatten his hand, replacing the tips with the pads of his fingers, drawing quick but fast circles over the pleasurable bud.
âJimin!â You cry, and your nails rake themselves through his hair, drawing him into you.
You hold him close as he rubs at you, and his free hand keeps himself balanced on the wall just above your hand, completely enveloping you with his body.
âFeels so good.â You mewl, and he nearly growls.
âGod, youâre so cute.â He groans.
He takes his hand away and your eyes furrowed in confusion. Was it something you said?
You don't have much time to think because youâre being spun around and bent over the counter, and youâre face to face with your debauched features.Â
âJimin?â You ask, but youâre cut off by him snatching your pants and underwear down your hips and they pool at your ankles.Â
You threaten to turn a scarlet red when he spreads your legs as far as they can go and just stares at your sex.
âSuch a pretty pussy.â He rasps and you shiver.
He looks up and meets your gaze in the mirror, making to take his leather jacket off.
ââM gonna fuck you with my fingers, then Iâm actually gonna fuck you. Sounds good?â
âAmazing.â You squeak.
He presses his hand on your lower back to keep you anchored to the marble counter, while the other slips a finger in till he reaches the knuckle.
Your jaw drops in a silent moan, the slight stretch of it hurts for a moment, but your body soon adjusts to it, because he draws it out, no wonder noticing how it glistens in the dim lighting.
Then, he thrusts it back in, over and over and over again until a second one finds its place next to it.
The sounds that escape your cunt are disgusting, and you cross your arms to bury your head in them.Â
Youâve never felt pleasure like this before, and when he curls his fingers just right, you all but wail.
âFound it.âÂ
He abuses your g-spot with a certain kind of cruelty, and an arm slips out from under you to scratch at the surface of the counter. Of course you donât leave any marks, but the bluntness of your nails make it a makeshift anchor to this earth.
âJust listen to you.â He huffs. âSheâs so sloppy.â
âDonât â donât say that.â You whine in humiliation.Â
âWhy not?â Thereâs amusement in his voice, and you hate how it makes another of arousal leak around his digits.
ââCause thatâs dirty.âÂ
Jimin laughs. He actually fucking laughs and all you can think about is crawling into a hole forever.
âThereâs a lot about me thatâs dirty, sweetheart.â
You shake at the nickname, and he notices.
âOh? You like it when I call you that?â
The condescension in his voice pushes you closer to the edge, and you can feel that familiar knot form in your stomach, the one youâre only able to create by yourself.
You clench around him and he gawffs.
âIt seems like Iâm not the only one thatâs dirty.â He remarks. âWhat else should I call you?â He acts like heâs thinking as he twists his wrist into you without mercy, your legs shake.
Thereâs tears threatening to stream down your face.
âHm. What about babe, or baby? Oh! Better yet, how about darling? Hm? Would you like that darling?â
Hearing him call you such sweet names does something to you, because before you know it, youâre catapulted over the edge. You spasm around him, and he just hums.
âThere you go, good girl. Thatâs it.â
You shake as you come down from your high, and there are hands stroking the outside of your thighs, up your hips, and back down again.
Your eyes flutter open from where they squeezed themselves shut to find heâs already looking at you. His gaze is dripping in dark black molasses sticky with lust and want.
âCan we keep going, or are you at your limit?â Jimin checks in ever so gently.Â
It makes you feel good knowing that he likes to make sure you know youâre still in control, and despite just having orgasmed, you find yourself painstakingly empty.
ââM really good.â You slur, and a proud smile takes over his face.
He fumbles with the back of his jeans, and retrieves his wallet where he pulls out a condom from it. You eye it warily.
âI just put it in there yesterday, I promise.â
He makes work of his jeans, and you notice that heâs so so hard, and you almost feel bad for the poor man. Almost being the keyword, because when he releases himself from the confines of his boxers, you gape.
Heâs averagely long, maybe even a little moreso, but god, is he thick.
He catches you staring and winks.
âThink you can take it?â He pokes and you huff. âOf course I can.â
He raises a brow at you, but rolls the condom on in a tortuously slow pace.
âHurry up.â You whine, and he swats your ass.
âBe patient.â He chides with a hiss, but youâre still reeling from the sting of the slap to even comprehend what he just said.
Jimin settles a hand on your shoulder, the other helping him line himself up to your sopping wet entrance.
âReady?âÂ
âMhm.â
You both watch each other as he splits you open on his cock, and his head falls back as he groans through his clenched teeth.
âOh!â You quiver on his length, reaching back to grab one of his hands and breathing out a sigh of relief when he meets you halfway.
Heâs twitching inside of you, and you appreciate the few moments to gather your bearings.
âMove, please.â You mewl, and he doesnât hesitate to listen to you.
Jimin drags himself out, breaking your eye contact to look down at where youâre wrapped around him. Youâre so wet, the velvet of your gummy walls are making him feel a little faint.
Then, he thrusts back in until his hips are to your ass, and then he repeats, just for a few slow moments before picking up the pace.
The hand on shoulder pulls you down to meet his thrusts, and you cry out.
âShit, Jimin!âÂ
âI know, I know â Fuck, you feel so good.â
His plowing is brutal, the tip of his cock spearing and bullying your g-spot with a pace that you canât quite keep up with.
He releases your shoulder to grab each arm to help his leverage, and your eyes roll into the back of your head. Youâre sure youâre drooling, but you canât find much shame in it because it feels so good.
You know that Jimin has ruined you for anybody else, mind, body, and soul, and youâre not sure how youâre supposed to escape him now.
His grunts and groans are guttural, and you know heâs close. You encourage him by clenching around him.
âGod â what happened to the shy girl I met in the living room, huh?â He pants. âAll I see now a cock hungry slut.â
You let out a surprised moan at his words.
âOh, yeah? You like when I call you that? Like when I let you know exactly what you look like?â
âY-yes.â Is your garbled reply.
âAw⊠is my baby too cock drunk to even respond?â Jimin tuts meanly. âThatâs okay, because Iâve got you, right?â
Heâs giving you whiplash with the mix of his words, and you miss the way he calls you his baby.
âOh, shit Iâm close.â He announces. âYou gonna let me cum in this tight little cunt of yours?â
âMhm! Mhm! Gonna ââ You hiccup. âGonna let you do whatever you want.
That seems to soothe something possessive inside of him because he finally cums, and the pulsing of him against that spongy spot inside of you grows to be too much, because you follow right behind him.
Itâs quiet in the bathroom as you both stop to catch your breaths, but he pulls out after a few moments of silence, tying up the condom and tossing it into the trashcan next to the toilet without a care.
âYou okay?â He asks as he makes to pull up his jeans, and youâre kind of just⊠stunned.
Is that it?
âUh⊠yeah, Iâm alright.â You try not to let the disappointment show on your face as you reach down and tug your pants on as well.
Your arms ache from the strange position they were forced into, as well as your stomach from where it had been digging into the ledge of the counter.
âGood.â Gently pushes you out the way so he can wash his hands.
You just stare at him flabbergasted, kind of at a complete loss at what to say.
Do you ask what you are now? Did this mean anything? Were you just another hookup? Were you â
Youâre cut off by soft lips meeting yours, and your stomach flutters something pleasant.
Maybe he did like you back and this was a complete misunderstanding, maybe he â
âCall me if youâd like to have some fun again, yeah?â
He speaks against your mouth.
Somehow heâs managed to scribble down his number and hand it to you, which you take somewhat blindly.
Heâs already out of the door before you can blink, sending you a cheeky wave as he disappears into the crowd once more.
Your experience with him already feels like a dream when one of your friends drapes themselves over you.
âFinally found you!â She says with a giggle. âWhere were you? Me and Sana have been looking everywhere.â
You cringe as you remember your duty, but before you can respond, her nose scrunches up.
âGod you stink. Did you have sex?â She asks in disgust.
âNo.â You say with a few blinks. âItâs probably because of the party.â
âOh⊠okay.â She giggles.

Youâre ashamed to say youâve met up with him a few times after that, finally having the courage to give him a call after a particularly hard day of finals.
He sure did fuck the stress out of you.
This wasnât how you imagined yourself finding your way into his world, but if sex was the only way you could have him then so be it.
But that doesnât mean it didnât hurt.
He still met up with other girls, still blew you off, still kept you as a secret from his friends. You were just another notch on his bedpost, and it made you almost sick to think about.
Time spent with him after sex was just⊠confusing.
Somedayâs he would allow you to stay over afterwards, maybe even asking you to watch a movie with him, or sometimes he would talk around you leaving until you eventually caught the hint.
It was such a push and pull relationship, and you had no idea what all of this was for.
Were you friends? Acquaintances? Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits?
You had no idea what you were or who he wanted to mean to you, but it was slowly ripping you apart.
He had invited you to another party after a particularly long session, and maybe it was just the sleepiness in him talking, but it almost sounded as if he wanted you to be there.
He nuzzles his face into your shoulder, the black of his hair sticking to his forehead due to the sweat.
You nibble on your lip, tugging the duvet up to cover your bare breasts.
The tips of his fingers graze your arm gently even though his eyes were closed, and goosebumps rose under his ministrations.
It was moments like these that you grew fond of because of how few and far in between they were, when Jimin allows that vulnerable side of his to peek through. You found him beautiful.
You couldnât stop staring at him, even when the muscles in your neck protested the awkward angle.
You could count every freckle on his cheek, every eyelash he had, and you had to bite back a smile at the sight of his crooked front tooth peeking out through his swollen plump lips.
âMm.â He groans, and forces himself to crack an eye open.Â
Your eyes flutter in embarrassment at almost being caught, but he seems none the wiser.Â
â(y/n).â Jimin mumbles. You find a way to wind your arm around his neck, settling a hand in his hair, rolling the ends of the damp strands between your fingers.
âCome to this party âm throwing.â Jimin slurs.
You finally allow yourself to smile then. âWhy? Iâd like to think last time was a bit of a mess.â You tease. He just grumbles. âNever feels like a mess when Iâm with you.â
Your smile quickly falls.

It was crowded once again, but you felt a sort of superiority at your fucked up relationship with him.
You went searching around for him; maybe you guys could actually talk this time! Maybe share a beer and talk about your favorite music!
Your body thrummed with all the different types of things you could do when you found him, but not in the way you wanted.
He had another girl pushed up against the wall, just like he had you in the bathroom on that fateful day.
âBut he wasnât kissing her how he had kissed youâ You tried to reason with yourself, even as tears began to form in your eyes.
This was embarrassing. So fucking embarrassing.
You were so much better than this. You were a smart girl, you had things going for you, your life shouldnt revolve around a man who could not give any less of a fuck about you.
You find yourself stumbling away - backwards might you add - and you accidentally bump into someone, their liquor spilling over and down the back of your shirt.
You yelp, and itâs loud enough to catch Jiminâs attention, but you donât notice because of how fast you spin around to face the person.Â
âOh God, Iâm so sorry!â
âSorry, sorry!â
You and the stranger speak at the same time, and you look up to find that he was quite⊠handsome.
He was tall, broad shouldered and obviously thick under that sweatervest he was wearing - which fuck it was too hot for that, even for you - and dimples settled into his cheeks and glasses that were raised high on his face, perched on his nose.
âNo, no!â You wave away his apology nervously. âItâs fine! Itâs my fault, I didnât see where I was looking!â
âI shouldnât have been carrying so many open drinks at the same time when I knew how crowded this place was, so itâs okay.â
You just watch as a genuine smile seems to spread on his face.
âHow about this: we're both at fault, and we're sorry. Does that sound good?â
You find yourself nodding with a small smile. âYeah⊠that sounds good.â
He stares at you, and you stare back, but then your eyes fall on a dark stain on his vest. His eyes seem to follow your gaze because he tries to wave you away this time.
âHey, listen, itâs fine, it happens all the time! Iâd say you took the brunt of it. How about you come with me, and Iâll get you a new shirt?â
Going with a guy that youâve never met before to âget a new shirtâ doesnât seem like a good idea, but the image of Jimin plastered to that girl is all but tattooed on the back of your eyelids.
âOkay, yeah.â
The manâs smile gets bigger, but then falls as his gaze flickers to something behind you. Your brows furrow in concern, but before you can turn around, an arm slides itself around your waist.
âI think Iâve got it from here. Thanks man.â
Youâre surprised to see Jimin next to you all but glaring at the tall manâs face, and thereâs a prickle of irritation in your gut. The weight of his arm on you feels like a hot iron with the way it burns, and you step out of his grip just slightly.
The guy seems to notice, because his gaze narrows right back at him.
âIs this guy bothering you?â He asks.
Your eyes widen at the sight of the dog fight that might happen before you, and you just sigh.
âNo, itâs fine.â
âAre you sure?â
âIâm sureâŠâ You let your voice die out, and the guy seems to make the connection.
âNamjoon. Kim Namjoon.â
You grin slightly. â(y/n).â
âGreat. Bye, Kim Namjoon. Thanks for ruining her shirt.â
Jimin tugs you along behind him, and heâs silent the whole way to his room, and youâre half tempted to snatch yourself from his grip.
âWhatâs your problem?â You ask once youâre finally safe behind closed doors.
âWhat do you mean whatâs my problem?â Jiminâs voice is hiding a thin layer of anger that you can hear clearly.
âYou were such an asshole to him! And he didnât âruinâ my shirt by the way. Itâs just beer. Itâll get out.â
âThat doesnât matter. You were about to fuck off and go with some guy you didnât even know!â He throws his hands up in the air like itâs obvious.
âOkay? Itâs my business on who I go and âfuck offâ with. The guy looked nice, so I trusted him.â
He scoffs. âOh yeah, so you just trust any guy that asks you to leave with him? Itâs so obvious he wanted to fuck you, and you were just going to do it with a smile on your face.â
You stare at him in disbelief. âYou canât be serious right now.â You breathe.
âVery.â He says flatly.
You encroach in his space, getting in his face and settling him with a glare.
âI came to look for you at a fucking party you invited me to, and then I find you with your tongue down some random girlâs throat.â You sneer. âSo forgive me if Iâm a little peeved that youâre bothered by who I might go fuck.â
Jimin doesnât know why heâs so bothered. âDoesnât know why seeing you laughing and smiling with that guy makes something in his gut twist in disgust.
âI donât like him.â
You lean your face away from his.
âThatâs what youâve taken away from this.â You let out an incredulous laugh, and the amusement behind your eyes is fake.
âIâŠâ You shake your head. âI canât believe this.â
âYou are not who I thought you were.â Something in you wilts. âYou are a grade A asshole, Park Jimin.â You spit his name like itâs a slur, and something inside him dies.
âWhat?â Itâs his turn to scoff. âDonât tell me you like me or something?â He knows heâs being mean, but heâs hurt, and he feels as though he has nothing else left.
âExcuse me?â You look like a kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Guilty.
Thereâs a sickening pleasure that takes root in his heart knowing that you want him like that.
âYouâre doing this whole weird, possessive girlfriend thing.â Itâs his turn to step in your space.Â
âWell, sorry to say, but were just fuck buddies. I donât want to be with you. All I want you for is a booty call, nothing more, nothing less.â
His words are like a knife to your heart and you deflate.
The tears burning behind your eyes finally fall, and your hand twitches at your side.
âI fucking hate you.â Is all you can say.
You push him out your way and he lets you, watches as you leave.
âGoodâ He thinks.
He tries to convince himself that the quicker he cuts this thing off, the easier things will get, because he doesnât like you like that.
Right?
Right.

Your head was pounding by the time you had found your way back to your dorm, your shaking hands made it near impossible to get the key in the lock, but you managed it.
You hadnât expected Sana to be there, bed engulfed by books and different studying utensils.
âHey.â She greets mindlessly, flicking through papers in a certain folder before huffing and closing it when she clearly doesnât find what she needs.
Your grip on your keys grows weak and they clatter to the floor, and she looks up in alarm, just as you take in a loud, pitiful sniffle.
âOh, (y/n).âÂ
She scrambles to get up and you fall forward, trusting her to catch you, and she does, even if sheâs extremely confused.
Youâre sobbing into her shirt, and your chest twists and everything just hurts.
Jiminâs words feel like a slap in your face, and your heart burns like you had actually been slapped. You would have preferred that if you were going to be honest.
â(y/n), please. You have to tell me whatâs wrong.â
âI liked him.â You sob. âI liked him so much, and, and, and ââ Youâre close to hyperventilating at this point, and Sana just seems to grow more anxious, because she pulls away from you and cups your cheeks.
âYou need to breathe for me.â She says with a nervous albeit reassuring smile.Â
You attempt to take a deep breath.Â
âGood, thatâs good, just keep trying.â Â
Eventually, your breathing evens out, and she leads you over to your twin bed, seeing as hers is a bit of an organized mess right now.
âNow, can you finally explain to me what happened?â
Your hands shake as you make to pick at your cuticles, but she catches the habit before you can get to it, encasing your hands in hers.
âThereâs a lot of things that you donât know.â
âOkayâŠâ
âBut you know I like Jimin, right?â
âMhm, like⊠big time.â
âWell, do you remember that party that you and your friend forced me to?âÂ
âMhm.â
âWell⊠while I was waiting for you guys to be ready to go, Jimin approached me.â
âOh my god?â She says excitedly, but you give her a sad smile.
âDonât get excited just yet.â
âAnyways,â You continue. âHe talked to me, then invited me to⊠you know, sleep with him.â Your cheeks burn as Sana stares at you dumbfounded, but you keep going. âThe sex was great, donât get me wrong, but he was so distant after everything was done.â
âHe gave me his number and asked me to call him if I ever wanted to hook up with him again.â
âDouche.â
âSana.â
âSorry not sorry.â
You laugh a bit and she grins, relieved.
âWell, I did.â
â(y/n).â She sighs, releasing one of her hands to rub at her forehead.
âI know, I know! I also know Iâm gonna sound really stupid when I say that I thought he actually liked me, but he⊠but he said some things to me tonight that really broke my heart.â
âBefore we get to that, what made you think he likes you back?â She wasnât trying to be mean by asking the question, you knew better.Â
âBecause thereâll be moments after we are done hooking up where heâd be super sweet. Like, sometimes he would cuddle me, or ask me to watch a movie, just things outside of the common hookup aftercare.â
âBut then tonight,â You sighed. âI went to the party he invited me to, and caught him making out with some other girl, and so I went to leave but then I bumped into this guy.â You smile a bit at the memory.
âHis name is Kim Namjoon, and he was super sweet â spilled a fuckton of beer on my shirt though.â
âSo thatâs why you smell like that.âÂ
âYep.â You laugh. âAnd then Jimin came up and acted all⊠jealous and possessive and shit. Took me up to his room, we argued, he accused me of liking him and laughed in my face and called me just his fuck buddy after I didnât deny that I did.â
You look up to find Sana seething.
âIâm going to call Taehyung.â
Taehyung was one of Jiminâs best friends, and he was currently groveling at Sanaâs feet trying to be with her. Though she likes him, she wants to make him work for it just to see if heâll lose interest, even though you know itâd kill her if he actually did.
âWhy?â
âTo break it off with him in solidarity.â
âWhat?!â You asked incredulously. âNo, absolutely not. Taehyung is a good guy. You donât need to do that for me.â
She regards you with a raised brow.
âAre you sure?â
You find yourself nodding. âKinda need some roomie time right now.â Your eyes fall to her studying materials. âBut if youâre too busy, I ââ
âNope. Letâs go.â
You laugh joyously as she begins to put her things away, and you make for the small fridge in your room where your sweet treats are held.Â
Maybe things are going to be okay.

The next week is like a living hell.
Youâve basically made it your lifeâs mission to avoid Jimin as much as possible. You had already blocked him after a few encouraging words from Sana.
She still ended up calling Taehyung in the end, putting him in the dog house until his friend got his shit together. You could almost hear his pout as he begged her not to. She hung up on him.
The weather was nice, with early spring wandering around, you could finally start to wear flowier clothing, as well as study outside again.
Your head is so immersed in your book that you donât see someone approach your table until a finger gently breaches your line of vision and taps the page.
You startle a bit and look up, and you're greeted by Namjoonâs sheepish face.
âSorry, I didnât know another way to get your attention, you looked really focused.â
âThatâs sweet, but itâs okay. You couldâve interrupted me.â He gestures to the seat across from yours. âCan I sit?â
âYeah, yeah! Go ahead!â You begin clearing things out of his way, and he smiles gratefully.
âI didnât see you again after you left.â With that guy, is whatâs unspoken, but you caught it anyways. âYeah⊠uh â something came up, so I had to leave early.
His mouth forms an âoâ shape and he nods. âI see.â
âYeah.â You grimace.
âWell I ââ Namjoon swallows nervously. âI wasnât able to tell you, but I think youâre beautiful.â
Your eyes widen. âOh.â You breathe in surprise, and the man visibly deflates. âUnless that guy was your boyfriend, then Iâm sorry! Oh, God, I should have asked first.â
âNo, no! Heâs not my boyfriend.â You reassure him. ââM surprised, is all; and very, very flattered.â
You know you should reject his advances, but youâre hurt, and heâs just⊠so sweet. A complete contrast to Jimin, and you think heâs the change of pace that you needed.
âI think youâre handsome if that makes you feel any better.â The words feel wrong coming out of your mouth, but you grin nonetheless when his cheeks warm an admirable red.
âIâŠâ You meet each other's eyes, and look down at the same time, laughing shyly.
Maybe Namjoon could be good for you.

âYou look pathetic, man.â Taehyung speaks through a mouthful of instant ramen disgustingly.
Jimin hits him upside the back of his head, and the poor boy winces.
âOw!â
âDonât forget youâre in the dog house too, idiot.â Jungkook mumbles from his side of the table.
âSo what youâre telling me is that you want me to beat your ass?â
âIâm just saying.â He shrugs. âHyung fucked up, and now youâre being punished by association. No (y/n) means no Sana.âÂ
Jungkookâs right.
Ever since that night, Jiminâs desperately been trying to forget about you, about how hurt you looked. He almost feels sick thinking about it.
He admits that he could have handled that situation a lot better, but it was like something had taken over him. As soon as heâd seen you with Namjoon, and how willing you looked, something inside him just⊠snapped.
âIâm just waiting for hyung to admit that he was jealous and go and fix it.â Taehyung says simply. âItâs obvious that heâs in love with her, and I have no idea why he wonât just go and tell her.â
âIâm not -â Jimin hissed, âIn love with her.â
âYeah man, you are.â
Jiminâs eyes narrowed, but his attention was stolen by your laugh.
You were laughing because of him.
You looked so sickeningly demure talking to him, wringing your fingers together and kicking out your legs as a nervous tick. You usually only ever did that when you were with him.
Jimin liked the effect that he had on you.
He liked how your eyelashes fluttered when he complimented you, how you held on to him when he fucked you, how you kissed him back like you meant it. Sure, your body was nice, but so was your personality.
You were kind, studious, selfless, and he wasnât sure what drew you to him the first night he had met you.
He thought that your hidden affections were all for him, but it proves that he was mistaken. Thatâs fine. You could be with anybody that you wanted to.
âJust not himâ Is supplied unhelpfully.
The thought shouldnât bother him as much as it does.
Itâs just⊠Jimin doesnât do the whole commitment thing. The last time he had a partner, it blew up in his face, so he just finds that casual one night stands was just the easier way to go.
But things between you and him were never casual to begin with, huh?
âListen,â Taehyung starts once more, and points his chopsticks at Jungkook. âJimin-hyung, he'll realize what he wants when itâs too late. Girls like (y/n) donât come around as often as they should.â Then, he dives back into his noodles.
Jiminâs eyebrows furrowed. Were they right?
He turns his head to look at them. âWas it ever casual between me and her?â He canât help but ask.
âNo.â
âAbsolutely not.â
âWow, okay.â
âI mean, you let her sleep in your bed, hyung.â Jungkook basically scoffs. âYouâve never let any of your hookups stay the night, or cuddle with you; yet somehow sheâs different.â
Different.
That was the key word here.
You were different.

The last few weeks with Namjoon have been nice.
The man was smart, and kind, and overall just a sweet, gentle giant that deserved everything in the world; but you knew deep down in your heart that you couldnât be the one to give him that.
You saw it in the way that he looked at you, starry-eyed on his worst day, and heart-eyed the best. You canât find it within yourself to feel flattered by it anymore, because you know that you donât deserve it.
You donât deserve his chivalry, his affection, and maybe - hopefully not - his love.
Youâre ashamed to say that this whole rebound business blew up in your face like you went ahead and personally strapped the bomb to yourself.
You didnât know how to tell him you didnât like him like that, just how you had no idea how to tell Jimin you loved him after months of sleeping with him; exactly how that fateful night you said yes instead of no.
The words on the pages in front of you bled together like a big blob of ink, and Namjoonâs large foot snuck over to yours under the table and trapped it playfully.
You tried not to allow the grin you gave him to look like a grimace, even as he acted like he was reading as well. You were sure both of your reasons were entirely different.
You needed to put a stop to this, you needed to tell him you didnât see him that way and you just wanted to be friends.
âHey, Namjoon ââ
âDo you want to go on a date with me?â
âOf course.â
Fuck.Â
The look that Namjoon gave you was beaming, and you felt tears sting at the back of your eyelids.
You said yes to a date like the stupid, idiotic, selfish, terrible person you are.Â
Namjoon had offered to walk you back to your dorm after your study session was over, but you couldnât look at him anymore, the guilt crawling around in your stomach becoming something almost too much to handle.
âNo thanks, Nammy.â
âOkay.â He pouts a bit. âBut you be safe, alright?â
For the first time today, you gave him a true smile. âI will!â
The walk back to your dorm was slow, and heavy hearted, and you were so lost in your head, you couldnât see that you were about to walk into someone until their hand shot out and caught you.
âOh!â You squeaked, your head shooting up.
Your eyes widened at a very disgruntled looking Jimin.
He didnât look as put together as he used to; his black mullet ruffled out of place and his black leather jacket rather wrinkly.Â
â(y/n).â He spoke.
It had felt like forever since you heard his voice, and it took you everything in your power to not shut your eyes and bask in it.
You swallowed heavily. âI have nothing to say to you.â
âBut I do.â
âThatâs not how this works.â
â(y/n) please.â
You stare at him before huffing and crossing your arms. âFine.â
âThank you.â He breathes, and you finally notice how close you are, because you stumble back to finally put some space in between the two of you. If Jiminâs hurt by the action, he doesnât show it.
You hate how much that bothers you.
âI fucked up.â
âNo.â You instantly put a hand out to stop him. âYou donât get to say that to me.â
âWhat?â
âYou started this whole thing, Jimin! I⊠I admit that I do like you, and Iâve liked you for a long time, but you donât get to be the one to say you âfucked upâ and regret everything you did.â
âWhy not?â He asks, almost offended.
âBecause youâll never change!â
Jimin looks taken aback by your outburst.Â
âYouâll tell me youâre sorry, weâll fuck, and then itâll be this process all over again. You donât get to just do that! I need full commitment, and thatâs not something youâre able to give me.â
âPlus,â You continue, taking in a deep breath. âIâm seeing someone right now.â
Jimin fucking snorts.
âDonât tell me you have a date with the Namkim guy.â
âItâs Namjoon, and yes, I am. Heâs nice.â
âOh, is that it? Heâs just nice?â
âAnd⊠and heâs smart too!â You exclaim almost petulantly. âHe gives me flowers and tells me how much he likes me all the time, unlike you, whoâs so emotionally constipated that not even laxatives would be able to help you!â
âWha ââ Jimin laughs in disbelief. âExcuse me?â
âYou heard me! Iâm gonna go on a date with a guy who actually likes me!â
You straighten your tote bag on your shoulder and brace yourself, straightening your posture.
âNow if you excuse me, I have a date to plan for, and homework to do.â
âWhat? (y/n)! Come back, Iâm sorry!â
âNo!â

Youâre not going to lie and say you didnât replay your entire interaction with Jimin for the rest of the week.
There was something about talking to him that gave you the energy to get through class, the haunting realization that maybe he was worth a damn.Â
Wondering what would have happened if you had allowed him to apologize instead of cutting him off, of accepting his apology and allowing yourself to be with him in that way.
But you know, you know that if you were to go back to your old routine with him, itâd kill you. Itâd kill you to watch him flirt with other people, or watch him take them home.
You fiddled with the strap of your dress, staring at yourself in the mirror and feeling awkward at the fact that the material only looked good if you didnât wear a bra.
You were going to a restaurant with Namjoon; it was a nice, original first date idea. Youâd talk over food, and get along just fine!
Namjoon was a nice guy. He was sweet, and he wouldnât try to fuck you on the first date.
Oh, God, would he?
You really hope not.
âDamn girl.â Sana whistles from her spot on her bed. âYou look sexy! Youâre gonna blow that nerdâs socks off!â
âSana.â You warned. âBe nice! Heâs not a nerd. Heâs just studious.â
âSure. Every Philosophy major is studious.â She giggles to herself.
âOh! Do you think heâs a virgin?!â
âSana!â This time itâs a whine, but your arguing is interrupted by a couple knocks on the door.
âOh, God, itâs him!â You whisper in a panic.Â
You continue to mess with the front of your dress, pulling the hem up at the top to try and hide as much boobage as possible.
âStop!â Your roommate hisses. âYou look great!â
âYeah?â
âYeah! Now go!â
You waddle over to the door and pull it open, your heart melting at the sight of a good looking Namjoon in front of you.
His hair was tastefully rumpled, a button up shirt tucked into a pair of slacks that hugged his thighs deliciously.
Wow, you were really hogging this man for yourself.
There was another stab of guilt when his eyes fell on your figure and he swallowed, his cheeks painting themselves an adorable pink.Â
âW â wow, (y/n). You look amazing.â
âThanks.â You say shyly. âShould we go?â
âOh! Of course, of course!âÂ
He offers you his arm and you take it.
The conversation between the two of you was kept light, even as you got into the Uber that he had paid for.
âI uh â I donât have my license.â Namjoon had sheepishly admitted to you one day.
He usually rode his bike to places, so you were surprised to see that he had splurged for today.
Shame burns in your gut once again.
(y/n): 0, Guilt and shame: the winner.
The restaurant was nice as you were led to your table, and very quiet.
You shuffled around in your seat, sheepishly ordering water as Namjoon looked over the menu.
âIâm so happy we're doing this.â Namjoon says after you get your drinks, and you sip on the freezing tap water.
âYeahâŠâ You speak after a few hefty gulps of your drink.
âI meant it when I said you looked gorgeous tonight.â
âAhâŠâ You fluster. âWhere did all this confidence come from?â
âIt comes from me wanting to ask you a question that youâll answer truthfully.â
Instantly your heart falls into your ass, because you know exactly whatâs coming.
âI might be a bit of a stick in the mud, but that doesnât mean Iâm blind, (y/n).â
âI can see that you havenât really been in any of⊠whatever we have going on. And Iâm not even going to lie, I donât even think weâve had anything to begin with.â
âWhat gave it away?â You ask with a grimace. âThat.â
âThat?â
âThat thing you do with your face when you lie.â
You blink at him in surprise.
âOh.â
âAnd youâve done it every single time Iâve tried to flirt or compliment you. Iâm surprised you even agreed to go out with me.â
âIâŠâ You feel like youâre going to throw up. âI swear I didnât mean to lead you on! Thereâs just been this thing, and I canât tell you what it is ââ
âYes you can.â
âPardon?â You ask in surprise.
âYou know exactly why you canât commit fully to this.â
âIâŠâ You deflate in your seat, fiddling with the napkin. âYouâre right.â
âItâs that guy, right? The one from the party?âÂ
Namjoonâs words arenât hurt, judgemental, or angry, theyâre just factual. Like how he gets when he breaks down a piece of difficult text in one of his ancient little books he likes to read.
âI should start from the beginning shouldnât I?â
âWeâve got all night.â
So you do. You start from that night at the party, over how youâve felt these last few weeks, even as the food had come and gone, you two hadnât stopped talking.
You had refused to let him pay at the end of the night, and you literally almost had to fight him over splitting the bill.
âThis was supposed to be a date.â He speaks with a pout, and you just laugh.Â
You two worked well as friends, because you nudged his foot. âYah! We can go on another date soon, okay?â
He just laughs with a shake of his head.
When you guys leave, you offer to pay for your shared Uber when you spot someone you werenât expecting.
Jiminâs in the parking lot, leaning against his car and looking around. When his gaze lands on you, his slouched position straightens, and your heart stutters in your chest.
âThis guy is like the fucking boogeyman.â You murmur, and Namjoon laughs once more.
âI uh⊠may have sort of called him here.â
Your head whips around and you stare at him in betrayal. âWhat?!â
âListen. You and him have some shit to work out, and - bless your heart - we both know you donât have a backbone, so I think it would be better if you both fixed this, or ended it for good.â
You canât help but just stare at him. âWhere did you even get his number?â
âTaehyung. The poor manâs been practically begging me to leave you alone and let Jimin fix this because heâs been sexiled.â
You sigh, glancing over at a waiting Jimin whoâs watching you hopefully.
âYou wonât be here for solidarity, will you?â
âFor both our sakes, I think you know the answer to that.â
You swallow, turning your attention back to him. âI really am sorry about how everything went down between us. Youâre a great guy, and Iâm sure one day another person will be able to see that. Iâm sorry itâs not me.â
He shrugs his shoulders. âItâs alright, I need to worry about my studies anyways.â
You smile sadly at him, and he just chuckles and shakes his head, pulling you into his warm embrace.
âI mean it (y/n),â He starts when you separate, âItâs okay, but you need to go, because Jimin looks like heâs about to throttle me, and Iâm not really interested in fighting someone tonight. I have a test in the morning.â
Your smile is a little less sad this time, and he waves you off.
The walk to Jimin feels like a walk to doom; itâs silent, tense, and youâre unsure about where youâll end up at the end of the night.
âHi.â You breathe awkwardly. You grasp onto your clutch purse like a lifeline.
âHey.â
âUhâŠâ You begin, but Jimin just sighs, opening the passenger door, and gesturing for you to get in. âWe need to talk.â
Your shoulders deflate. âAlright.â
Even though he said you needed to talk, the car ride is silent, even as you watch yourself being pulled into a parking lot, the man stopping and turning his car off.
âSo, are you going to let me speak this time, or are you just going to cut me off again?â
You scowl. âIs that really how you want to start this conversation?â
âNo, no, fuck Iâm sorry. Iâm already fucking it up.â His hands grip the steering wheel, twisting them around nervously.
âIâm not used to this.â
âUsed to what?â
âDating, feelings, that kind of thing. And I thought that if I hurt you, and never had to see you again, that those things would just go away, but they didnât.â
He slumps back in his seat, casting his gaze out the window before turning his attention towards you.
âWhen I saw you with him ââ
âNamjoon.â
âYes,â He all but hisses, âWith Namjoon, I felt sick to my stomach. Like something was wrong, like he was taking something from me.â
âBut I was never yours to begin with.â
âYeah,â He sighs. âI know, and thatâs the issue.â
âYou were right about me being an asshole, because I was. I projected all of my weird, little possessive feelings onto you and totally flipped out when I should have just talked to you.â
âBut instead I pushed you away, said things I didnât mean, and you still went with that guy, and I felt horrible.â Jimin hesitantly reaches out a hand â an olive branch of sorts â and waits for you to take it.
He hopes you take it.
You look at him and back down to his hand, before lifting yours and intertwining your fingers.
âWhat are you trying to tell me, Jimin? Because⊠because if we do this friends-with-benefits bullshit again, I think itâll actually kill me.â
âI donât think I could handle that even if I tried.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âI mean that seeing you with the other people that aren't me makes me feel sick to my stomach, and Iâd rather have you all to myself like the nasty, greedy bastard I am.â
âLike a boyfriend.â
Jimin finally smiles.
That beautiful, eye closing smile that makes your heart skip a beat too many.
âYeah, (y/n), like a boyfriend.â
âDoes that make me your girlfriend?â
âI would sure hope so.â
You grin as well, happiness painting over your features as you watch him.
âWhat does this mean for us now?â He leans forward into your space, and this time you donât move back, just gazing up at him with wide, curious eyes. âThis means that youâll hopefully let me kiss you.â
âWell lucky for you, Iâm feeling nice tonight.â
He snorts and rolls his eyes, yet connects your lips together. Your eyelids flutter shut.
Euphoria. Thatâs the only feeling you could describe after feeling the plushness of his mouth after so long. Itâs felt like centuries since youâve touched him, and every nerve in your body lights aflame.
You tangle your fingers in his hair, and his hands cup your jaw, tugging you to him over the center console.
âI canât go that far.â You pant with a chuckle, and he huffs a small smile.
âBackseat?â
âPlease donât tell me you want to have makeup sex in the backseat of your car in the middle of the park.â
âYou want to have makeup sex?â His eyes glimmer. Itâs your turn to snort. âI thought that was obvious.â
âThen no, we're absolutely not doing that here.â
âThen letâs get out of here.â
âYes maâam.â

© yoongsriverandme 2025-26
#đŠč` my original work!#đ êȘà§ nsfw!#dividers by @cafekitsune#park jimin fluff#jimin fluff#park jimin angst#jimin angst#park jimin smut#jimin smut#park jimin x reader#jimin x reader#jimin x you#jimin x y/n#bts fanfic#bts fanfction#bts oneshot#bts scenarios#bts imagines#park jimin fanfic#jiminfanfic#college au#alternate universe#bts#fanfiction#fluff#smut#angst#kpop#kpop fanfic#bts army
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HIHI! Before I make my request, I just wanna say that I absolutely ADORE the way you write the crk characters! The posts you have about Shadow Milk are scarily accurate. On another note, I really enjoyed the Burning Spice x reader hcs, and for my request, could you maybe do some Burning Spice NSFW hcs?đ€§đ I haven't seen many people do requests for him, so I figured I'd step up and ask!
Burning Spice NSFW Headcannons
đGirl, I gotta clear out my askbox AGAIN. I clean it out and then y'all come back with a vengeance. Anyway, you were the first person to rq this, so congrats, you get the special answered ask! Yay! Anyway, Burning Spice is SUCH a challenge for me because we have virtually no content of the guy. This is 90% guesswork on my behalf, so please give me grace lol. Sorry if these are short and kinda bad, my motivation is low rn lol
Tw: NSFW; Rough Sex; Marking (like, bruising and biting); blood mention; predator/prey dynamic mentioned
Info: Burning Spice Cookie x Reader; NSFW
-Burning Spice Cookie is surprisingly lax about sex. It's not something that interests him too much, because once you've done it so many ways, you cannot do much more spicing it up.
-Pre-corruption he had sex semi-frequently with various different partners over a long period of time, but the closer he got to corruption the more... boring sex became. There wasn't much appeal other than dominating his partner, and even then, once he did that it was kind of nothing.
-He's experienced and he's very good at what he does, but he doesn't really care to initiate in most cases. Despite what most might think of him, he values the time he spends with you. Sex seems like it would be a waste of it, so he just doesn't bother with it.
-Unless, of course, you seem to be into the idea. Then his tune changes. Oh, his little warrior wants to try something different? Alright, sure, but he won't hold back on you. (He does, of course, because he can't have you crumbling on him.)
-Your first time with him is... interesting. He is, in all meanings of the word, considerate of you and your well-being the whole time. But, he's also doing everything in his power to see what makes you tick. How far can he push you this time before you need to tap out, how many orgasms can he get, how hard can he get your legs shaking?
-He likes to push you. A big part of his style of sexual intercourse is dominating. In most cases, he likes to go as hard as he can as fast as he can, but he has an inhuman tolerance when it comes to you. So he takes his time figuring out how to dominate you.
-He likes things that puzzle him, he likes having his mind challenged, he likes to have something for his mind to do. With sex, this is especially important. He gets off on the thrill of figuring you out, he wants to see the way you react to everything.
-He's big on predator/prey dynamics, like, really big on them. He likes to set you loose and give you a fixed amount of time to throw him off your trail. Run, hide, set traps, and he'll come after you like a wild animal starved for weeks. You always think you've got him, but he waits until you're comfortable to strike, and he takes you wherever he finds you - so hiding in public isn't a smart idea... or it is... depends on what you're into.
-Speaking of, he is a big proponent of public sex. Like I said in his initial headcannons, he loves to show you off. You both have a lot of pride in being the other's partner, so why not show it off in every way possible?
-Usually, this manifests as him having you bounce on him on his throne while loyal followers come and praise him. They'll be showering him with flowery words and begging for his acknowledgment, but his eyes are only on you. He soaks in your nervous expression, loving the way you shy away from the other cookie's eyes.
-It also can be more ritualistic. What I mean is that, he very well enjoys having people watch, so why not make a festival out of it. The two of you will be on a huge platform, surrounded by rich silk sheets and the eyes of his most loyal followers. They cheer the two of you on, shouting praises and exclamations of joy as you reach your climax.
-Do not think that this means he's in any way okay with sharing. He is not, it's a one-way ticket to get crumbled. If any cookie is foolish enough to even propose the idea they don't live to tell the tale. Look, enjoy, but don't touch.
-A lot of sex with him actually starts as sparring. You are very weak compared to him, so he rarely goes out of his way to spar with you, but he does. When he does, it always ends with you bent over and babbling his name like a mantra.
-He can't help it, the way you fight him with such a cute determined little expression really makes the cogs in his head turn. Flushed face, chest heaving, oh you look heavenly. Wouldn't you look nicer with him splitting you on his dick? Yes, he seems to think so.
-He likes it when you fight back against him, make him work for his own high. It's just what he wants. Kick and bite and punch and scratch as much as you can, he wants to see the marks you leave on him. He wears them with pride, just like you should his.
-And he does mark you up, very well. Your body is littered with bites from him, and you have several new bruises where he restrains you. The most prominent ones are on your thighs, the perfect outline of his fingers practically burned into your dough.
-You always bleed when he bites, his teeth are sharp, and he never cleans it up. He likes seeing the crimson jam dribble down your body. It's a beautiful sight, the very essence of you leaking out for him to see. When he's feeling particularly romantic, he'll smear it across his lips like makeup, and kiss along your body leaving a trail of blood-soaked kisses in his wake.
-Something else to mention, he very much likes to see the two of you connected. He enjoys watching himself sink into you, and he does it in silence. To him, it's beautiful to see your bodies meld together. Even more so, he likes to see evidence of himself in you.
-So, he always cums inside and he never uses protection. He likes to see his cum leak out of your abused little hole, he'll scoop it out of you after the fact with a scary reverence in his eyes. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, but he cleans you up well, so it's best to let it be.
-He also likes to feel himself while he's inside you. He'll press on your stomach so he can enjoy the way he fits more directly. If you squirm, it just makes it all the better for him. The pleasure is only heightened by your wiggling, so keep it up.
-Okay, we have to acknowledge his size. It's impossible not to do so with how big he is in the game - he is significantly larger than every cookie we've seen so far.
-His dick is large, like very large. It's more... normal... than Shadow Milk Cookie's, but it's not regular by any means. It's big, nearly eight inches long, and about five inches thick. It's the same color as his dough all the way up to the tip, which is a deep reddish-brown color.
-The tip is flat and wide, and it's the same thickness along the entire shaft. The first push-in is always the hardest, but as soon as you adjust, it's easy to take the whole thing... well... what you can fit at least.
-Oh, one last thing, his dick is ribbed. Several bumps line the shaft in a nice pattern, and it rubs you inside like a dream. He knows the effect it has on you too, and he uses it to get you to melt against him like butter.
-He's rough, and he goes rather hard and fast, but he can slow it down sometimes. It's rare, and it isn't something he thinks to do in most cases, but occasionally... just sometimes, you'll get a sweeter side to him.
-That doesn't mean it isn't intense, though. It is intense, even more so than his other style of sex. But it's for different reasons this time.
-Instead of fucking he is making love to you, which seems to be out of character, but I promise you it's not. He loves to show you his devotion to you, and a great way of doing that is through sex.
-If you are, for any reason, feeling insecure he uses sex as a means of expressing just how much you mean to him. Words can only do so much, gifts and mortal possessions are meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but this? The physical connection between the two of you? It's something more, something deeper than anything else he could give you.
-He holds you close, usually facing him on his lap, and slowly ravishes you. There is to fighting or bruising or biting like this, just raw passion that he has for you. Not an inch of your skin is without his burning touch, the heat between the two of you fogging your mind until you can no longer think.
-The pace he sets is slow and deep, each thrust and movement a deliberate show of his admiration for you. It's only then that you'll hear him praise you, words of affirmation spilling from his lips like warm honey, encouraging you to keep going for him.
-What is the most intense, what gets you shaking, is the way he looks at you. His eyes are unblinking and affixed to your face with nothing but sheer devotion and love. He doesn't let you shy away either, you need to look at him, to see how much he adores you. Only once you are jelly against him will he be satisfied that he has done his part.
#x reader#crk#cookie run kingdom#crk x reader#cookie run kingdom x reader#burning spice cookie#burning spice cookie x reader#burning spice x reader
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it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)
i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.
i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.
i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.
in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.
i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.
i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.
my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.
i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.
i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.
it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.
almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.
i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.
i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.
write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.
#spilled ink#writeblr#pos#recovery#my brain is like - don't trust it!!!!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!! we can't be wrong again!!!!!!#and im like. what if the sorrow is the thing that's wrong though.#what if this - this!!!!! - is the truth
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