#i get two special months in a row

[most-canon-non-canon-ship-poll]

last day of pride month :(

tomorrow is the first day of my other pride month :)

[impeccablebackside]

got any bomba thoughts?

I have been holding onto this for almost two weeks, and I do not have anything in particular to mention anon. There is nothing wrong with the super hot red queen, but I simply do not think about her much outside of my asks.

As I am sure you can tell, I usually have some sort of topic or prompt to go off of, so generating ideas is not as easy for me. Is there something specific you are looking for? If so, I would be more than willing to give you a better answer.

[woollypoison]

The Real Encore

Itzy Yuna x Male reader THIS IS A REUPLOAD! Maybe you've seen this work before, maybe you haven't. It used to be uploaded on a blog called K-DGN, run by two people. That blog got destroyed, and now I run this blog by myself, posting only 100% original kdol fanfic content. Word Count: 7.1k

Following the show, you sat back in your seat in a daze, dumbfounded that you had finally gotten a chance to see your favorite group Itzy live in concert. They were everything you'd hoped they'd be and more. Nothing online could have prepared you for what it would be like finally laying your eyes on them in person. Months of preparation getting right physically paid off in dividends too, as multiple members came by your side of the stage to give you all the fanservice you could have ever wanted. You believed you must have been the luckiest guy in the building as it happened more than once. Each and every member came by to dance specifically for you, and you ate it all up. It was all surreal, and you could not imagine a more perfect night. 

As the audience continued to file out of the arena, you snapped out of your daze and started gathering your things to leave. You were about to leave when a staff member from the show got your attention from across the barricade and called you over. You were a little confused because you thought that maybe you had done something wrong, but that confusion was quickly washed away when they told you that your ticket had won a "special raffle", and that you were selected to come participate in a meet & greet with the group backstage. You were ecstatic, but told to keep your cool as the staff member did not want to draw the attention of the unluckier fans and cause a scene. They guided you around to the side of the stage and took you back through a hallway leading to the backstage area. You were brought to a room where a staff member took your belongings for safe keeping while another gave you some quick paperwork to sign. You were so excited at the prospect of meeting the members that you didn't even read most of it. Once everything was set, you were told to wait for a bit until they would take you to another room to meet the girls.

They sat you down in a long hallway backstage, on a row of foldable chairs seated against a wall. The rumble of JYP and Venue staff rushing through everything, packing up the show and making sure they get done as soon as possible to be able  to head down was dizzying. There were a total of 4 chairs lined up, including yours, but so far you were the only one sitting in one. Staff kept rushing back and forth as 5 minutes of waiting turned to 10 minutes turned to 15 minutes. You wondered if it was going to take much longer, and decided to ask one of the next staff members you saw.

"Excuse me" You addressed them. "When will the special raffle event start? Are there other winners we're still waiting on?" You asked, in your politest voice, but they just looked at you confused.

"Special raffle? What special raffle?" They replied, as if asking what the fuck you were talking about. "Are you allowed to be back here?" They continued, putting you on the spot. You tried to explain that one of the staff members told you to wait here, but you had nothing to show for it.

"They're fine, I told them to wait here!" The staff member from earlier came in just in time to save your skin, with another guy you could only assume to be another concert goer going off of their outfit in tow. The staff member you asked for clarification gave you a suspicious look, but backed off, going back to their urgent tasks.

"Sorry about that." The first staff member said. "Not everyone is made aware of all events. I hope the wait wasn't too unbearable, we still had to find our other winner. But we are ready to start now!" They explained that, considering the nature of the special event raffle, it was sometimes a little harder to get all the winners in the same place. You couldn't help but notice the discrepancy in between the amount of chairs, and the amount of winners, but maybe it just meant some winners already left and lost out on their luck. Or maybe something entirely else you were yet to find out.

The two of you were then ushered further down the hall, ultimately ending at a pair of doors. These rooms were a lot more secluded, a far cry from the chaotic mess that was the staff hurriedly packing up the show back where you were previously. You and your fellow raffle winner both exchanged pleasantries as you awaited for further instructions.

"Here we are. Please wait just one more second while I check to see if they're ready to see you" the staff member explained and then turned around to knock on the door and peek their head in. They asked something in Korean, to which you could hear the female voice responding. Satisfied, the staff member then turned back to the two of you. "Okay! Now sir, if you'd please," they instructed as they opened the door and gestured the other guy to come forward. You were about to follow suit but the staff member raised a hand to stop you in place. "Just him, please. You will be meeting someone else. You made and "O" face and nodded you head. You and the other winner exchanged nervous glances before you raised a fist of encouragement. He reciprocated the gesture then turned back to the door, taking a deep breath and walking in. 

As he rounded the bend, the staff member closed the door behind him, leaving you alone and now more nervous than ever. The staff member gave you a quick smile then headed to the other door, repeating the same actions he had done with the previous room's occupant. He then turned back to you, leaving the door slightly ajar for you to enter.

"Okay, she's ready for you. Please go in when you're ready." he instructed before stepping aside. Your eyes darted between him and the door. He gave you a nod and this time it was your turn to take a moment to collect yourself. You steeled yourself before mustering enough courage to take the step through the door. You walked a bit further into the room, hearing the sound of the door closing behind you. No turning back now, you thought to yourself. As you rounded the corner, you almost froze in place. In the center of the room was a couch facing away from you, and seated right in the middle of it was a girl with bright red hair, looking down at what presumably was her phone. You thought that maybe she hadn't heard you come in because she hadn't turned to greet you, so you decided to try and get her attention. 

"Ahem...Yuna...?"

The girl's head instantly perked up and she whipped her head around to face you. It was almost like a scene from a hair product commercial the way her bright red colored locks flared out before perfectly settling along her exposed shoulders. From what you could see since she was still seated, she was wearing a spaghetti strapped white tank top. She had a huge welcoming smile on her face, complimented by her beautiful eyes which were beaming with excitement. 

"Took you long enough! Come, sit with me!" she called out.

You couldn't help but notice two things when taking in the room. The first was the faint humming of some music playing at a low volume on a speaker, posited on a table in front of the couch. You weren't sure what song it was, but you could tell it was by Blackpink. The other thing was a faint smell, attacking your senses. It wasn't pungent, but if you focused on it, it was present. It wasn't anything like any smell of any perfume you'd ever smelled before. It had no traces of floral scents or any of the like, but instead had this deep sweetness to it. It was intoxicating, and you couldn't help yourself from drifting towards it.

The shock of being in a room alone with Yuna and her addressing you so directly almost caused you to dissociate long enough to get on the nerves of Yuna who just asked you a question. It wasn't your attention to ignore her, you just needed something to focus on and ground yourself with.

"Hello?" Called out again, snapping you out of your drifting gaze. You looked right at her again, and walked around the couch, staring at you the entire time before taking your seat next to her. She was still wearing her pink skirt from the encore, matched with her black boots. All she changed out of was her top.

"Hi!" She spoke to you, very high pitched and seemingly very excited to have your attention. Even after such an exhausting show, her fanservice was out of this world.

"H-Hi..." You mumbled out through your nervousness. You hadn't ever even been close to itzy before this show, let alone win a fancall or anything of the like. Not for lack of trying, mind you. "I'm your biggest fan!" You managed to push, almost as if yelling.

"I'm glad to hear that!" She replied, equally as full of gusto as you did. She didn't skip a beat however, and her smile pierced through your body before she placed her right hand on your left thigh, the one closest to her, before continuing. "What's your name?" She asked, tilting her head to the side, stunning you further.

"Y/N." You answered, the first sentence uttered without stuttering or an added ehm since stepping into the room. "Hmmmm, Y/N huh? That's a pretty name. You know my name too, right?" She asked, dragging her words out in a playful tone, her eyes intently staring at your face as she asked you.

You weren't really sure if this was a trick question. Who would end up going to this concert without knowing her name at least? You shook off your doubts, certain she was just giving you an easy question which she could use to give more fanservice as a response. "Yeah, Yuna..." You answered, tilting your head forwards as you answered her simple question, still unable to really feel comfortable with her hand on your thigh.

The instant her name left your mouth, her face rapidly came closer to yours, she closed her eyes, and planted her lips on yours. You were in complete shock, your eyes jolted open before slowly closing, oozing into the sudden kiss by Yuna. You felt her hand squeeze your thigh a little, before she pulled away, a small string of a mix of your and her spit trailing in between both of yours underlips.

"Hmmm, your lips taste nice when you say my name, Y/N." She divulged, wiping the spit off of her lip, before looking back at you, hungry eyes, studying how you were going to react. She took this chance to reposition herself, tucking her legs underneath her and sitting on her knees facing you. You couldn't help but stare, mute in shock at what was happening. You couldn't help but notice her short skirt wasn't fit to keep herself covered in her current position facing you, and your eyes drifted downwards, but all you could see were the same pink hue of her safety shorts. This action didn't go unnoticed, as Yuna's smile turned into a smirk, busting your perverted action.

She licked her lips, as her eyes grew smaller and focused. "Don't think I didn't see that, Y/N." She berated you in a sultry, teasing tone.

"I'm sorry!" You blurted out, afraid you might have pissed the younger girl off and was about to get thrown out for it.

"No, don't be!" She responded, once more putting her right hand on you, this time on top of your left hand, which was clinging onto your pants above your left thigh. Her touch tensed you up even further, before eventually giving into the feeling of her soft hand touching yours, causing your muscles to relax. You looked at her face, no trace of anger to see, her gaze fixated on you. Your eyes meeting caused her smile to grow wider, which instinctively caused you to smile as well before Yuna continued. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours!" She said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, a cute smile on her perfect face. Your hand tightened up again.

"I'm sorry?!" You exclaimed again, unable to believe you heard what she said correctly. Is this a dream? You weren't even sure anymore, and pinched yourself, but the pain was certainly real.

"Didn't you read the contract you signed? It's a non-disclosure agreement you know. You can't talk about what happens here today, what do you think that means?" She retorted, asking you with her head tilted, and her brows gathered between her eyes, almost as if asking if you were smart enough to read.

"I skimmed it?" You replied, grimacing at admitting your own incompetence. You could see Yuna's face cringe a little bit at your answer, which caused you to further explain yourself. "I was just so excited to be here, I'd sign anything for it!"

"So you're the hot but impulsive type huh? You're lucky I think that's cute." Yuna sighed, her eyes had drifted downwards, introspectively, before taking another look at you, this time, a smile but with the faintest hint of her pitying you mixed in. Her high-pitch and tension picked up once more. "Well? What's it going to be? Wanna show me yours?" She asked. No mistaking it now. Yuna just asked to see your cock, and you couldn't help but grow rock hard just from the thought of it. Your bulge had started to show through your pants, and Yuna noticed, honing in like a predator on its prey.

"Right, yes. Yes! I'll show you." You replied, not really finding the right words, but enough words to convey the essence of your message. You started unbuckling your belt, and slowly taking off of your pants, dropping it to your ankles, leaving your underwear on. Your bulge was clearly standing upright in your pants now, and you looked at Yuna once more to make sure you weren't misunderstanding.

"Aww, don't go teasing me now, Y/N!" She replied to the inquiry made by your eyes. Your confidence surged, and you started pushing your underwear down, the rim of it clinging against the tip of your rock hard dick before snapping off, revealing the full length of your cock. You were clean shaven down there as well, as you in your delusion like almost any concert-goer, had to be prepared for the impossible. You read somewhere that the lack of a bush makes a cock look bigger, and you wanted to look like you were at peak performance.

"Now that looks delicious." She licked her lips once more, her eyes focused on your stiff cock. "You pass this round, I don't like men with small cocks." She giggled to herself, retaining her smile towards you, as if proud of her compliment.

"Mind if I...?" Yuna asked you, without finishing her sentence, but you responded having a pretty good idea of what she was going to ask. "Please do." You responded, strangely more calm then you were at any given point since setting foot inside this room. Yuna's hand glided over to your cock, and her soft hand wrapped around the base of your cock, grasping it lightly. Her hand was barely gripping at all, a soft touch wrapped around you, before she started to twist and turn her hand up and down slightly. You couldn't help but moan at her touch, before she released your cock, taking her hands back to her side.

"So, you want to see mine now? It's only fair, right?" She asked you, her head tilted slightly downwards, causing her eyes to have to look up at you sitting straight across from you. You gulped your spit down and nodded your head yes. "Alright, but I'll sweeten the deal. I'll even let you touch it if you do a couple of things for me first."

You didn't have to think even a millisecond about it before responding. "I'll do it!" You almost screamed. Yuna chuckled out loud from this, causing her to respond in kind. "You really are impulsive! Very well. The first thing I want you to do is this:" She explained, as she turned around, grabbed her phone behind her on the couch, and unlocked it with her finger before turning on the camera app and extending it towards you. You tilted your head, looking a little confused. She giggled at your failure to understand. "I want you to take a picture of me with your dick in my mouth! Lia isn't here, but she loves updates on us having fun!" She explained. Your eyes widened. Of all the things, this was not what you expected. Wow, this girl is a fucking freak, You thought to yourself, but you were definitely not opposed to it. Your hesitation caused Yuna to speak up again.

"You already said you'd do it, no backing it out now!" She exclaimed, and as if that alone wasn't enough to snap you out of your gaze, she launched herself forward, taking the tip of your dick in her mouth, and looking towards your face, holding her head still there and her eyes clearly smiling. You tilted your head backwards, facing the ceiling, getting lost in the sensations she was bombarding you with, before Yuna pinched your thigh hard, making you aware of your part of the transaction. Her eyes had turned into a scowl towards you. You snapped back, took her phone, pointed it at her face, to which her visage once more bore a big eye-central smile, posing for the camera. You clicked the photo button a couple of times, before Yuna released your cock from her mouth with a big pop.

"Let's see!" She giddily said, as she took her phone back which you gladly extended back to her. "These will do! Thank you, Y/N." she continued.

"You're welcome." You meekly responded, undeniably a little sad your cock was no longer placed in between her lips. "You said there were a couple of things. What else do you need from me?" You inquired, showing you didn't forget and were not impulsive and stupid, just impulsive.

"I haven't been able to shower today, and I don't want to leave you alone like this right now." She replied, looking at you with giant doe eyes, her lip pouting. 

"Okay?" You asked back, not really sure what she was getting at. She smirked at you, then lifted both her hands above her head, exposing her cleanly shaved armpits to you.

"Can't you please clean me up, Y/N?" She asked of you, an irresistible charm in her pleading voice. She wasn't saying it outright, but you believe you knew what she wanted. Or rather even if you were wrong, if she wasn't going to be clear you were going to take your chance to do what you wanted to do.

You brought your head closer to her, inching towards her armpit, as one question from earlier started forming an answer. This deep, slightly sweet smell you found earlier was coming from Yuna. Now inching closer to her, she seemed to still be glistening a bit from fresh sweat still on her. The smell was intoxicating, and you looked at her face before continuing any further, and she had a big smile on her face, urging you to go on.

You extended your tongue outward, touching her armpit, causing her to stifle a small moan, before licking up her sweat. You had never done this before, but you were hooked. The taste was sweet, slightly salty, and her skin tasted refined. One lick turned into two, turned into 4, turned into 10, before moving onto her other armpit, licking that one equally clean as the other, motivating Yuna's moans, until you were certain you hadn't missed a single spot.

"Thank you, Y/N, I feel a lot better now." She admired your willingness. You licked your lips, your eyes now fiercely intent on hers, before you made your first unprompted comment of the night.

"You are fucking delicious, Yuna." You told her, admiring her taste, letting her know you probably enjoyed what you just did more than her. She blushed a little from this, before snapping out of it, and regaining her bubbly, refined aura.

"Well, a deal is a deal!" She giggled at you, her head at 45 degrees, her eyes closed in two half moons and her mouth a big smile. She started pushing off her skirt, attached to her safety shorts, revealing another shocking truth about her. She was wearing no underwear, and she now sat on her knees across from you, legs slightly pushed open as if to lure you in, her clean shaven pussy exposed for you to see.

Your cock throbbed, the sight of such a perfect and pink pussy begging to be devoured by you was almost too much to bear. Your cock grew just that tiny bit more, pulsing, looking ready to burst.

"Oh, you were holding out on me? No fair, Y/N!" Yuna exclaimed, posing one hand over her mouth and using the other to playfully tap you on your shoulder with her other hand.

"I can't help it! Seeing such a delicious pussy, anyone would want to dive right in." You fired back, finding yourself in this erotic groove, growing in confidence. Yuna giggled in response to your admiration. She looked back at you, her eyes ready to devour you, before speaking up again.

"I haven't..." she said, in a soft, whispering voice, having that high-pitched pleading cadence to it. Her eyes started looking down at her own knees, avoiding your eyes. Her knees started to part more ever so slightly, exposing more of her privates. "Been able to clean her either." She finished her sentence before looking back up at you with her head tilted downwards, almost as if begging for you. "Could you please clean me up here as well, Y/N?" She requested of you, her cute charm overwhelming all your senses. She bit her lip at you, sending you over the edge.

You smirked, one corner of your lips arching upwards, before getting up from the couch. You stood in front of her, your cock pointing towards her at her chest level, and before you even had the chance to lower yourself towards her, the girl had leaned forwards, her tongue licking the tip of your dick. Her tongue curled upwards and inwards into her mouth. She proceeded to look up at you, opening her mouth wide and sticking her tongue out with a loud "aaaaaah", showing the strings of pre-cum she had licked up which had been dripping out of your cock because of her provocations.

"You'll have to be clean too for what we do next, Y/N!" She exclaimed proudly, gulping down your liquid while you grew a devious smile. Yuna give your dick a quick peck before telling you "You can continue now, Y/N." You quickly got lost in the thought of grabbing her hair in two pigtails and fucking her face,  but you knew better than to throw away your chances at whatever could happen next here for such a risky play. You lowered yourself onto your knees, placing your hands underneath both of her thighs, and lifting the girl's underside up as to get both her legs off of the couch, and hanging off the edge, as to position yourself in between them. You pulled them apart, giving yourself a clear view of her entrance, causing her to coo at your assertiveness, and pushing her own hips forward for you.

You brought your face ever closer to her pussy, inching towards her. She was wet down there, but not drenched. You picked up another spark of her scent, the same tinge of sweetness but mixed in with a more organic, earthy smell. It was even more intoxicating than the smell of her sweat. You opened your mouth, close to her labia and breathed out onto her, your warm breath causing her to shudder in anticipation. You still felt the sensation of her kiss on your dick, and decided to return the favor. You purse your lips, planting a kiss over top of her clit. Yuna's soft vocalization of a satisfied "hmmmm" let you know you were on the right track, starting slow, and warming up over time.

You stopped the kiss, looked up at Yuna's face, who was staring back at you intensely, her eyes pleading for you to continue. No more words needed to be said, and smirked, reaching your tongue out, flicking it upwards over her clit. Yuna's legs twitched, her eyes jolted shut and her knees buckled around your head, tightening her thighs around your skull. You flicked your tongue again, and now having warmed Yuna up were mostly just rewarded with moans. You picked up your pace, and swapped your flicks from horizontal, to vertical, to letters. Her hands found her way to your hair, and grasped firmly around strands she managed to find, holding on tight to you. 

Yuna's breathing had grown labored, but she still managed to push some words out. "Don't you DARE... fucking stop...!" She moaned out, and you didn't dare defy her command. Your hands grasped her thighs where they could, squeezing tight, as you unleash your final assault. You pursed but your lips around her clit, sucking on it, getting it into your mouth and nibbling on it ever so softly with your teeth. This mixture of pleasure and pain seemed to send Yuna over the edge, as her back arched away from the couch, and her feet lifted up from the floor, her moans rising in pitch as you felt her entire body convulse.

You'd forgotten to breathe for the final part of that, and pulled your head back, gasping for big breaths of air. Yuna slowly opened her eyes, un-arching her back and leaning forwards. Her both hands cupped both sides of your face, squishing your cheeks as she leaned ever closer, licking her lips on her way to you. She kissed you another time on your lips, her lips firmly pressed against yours, before you felt her tongue entering your mouth. You pressed your tongue slightly against hers, wrapping around hers, coiling and twisting in wet ecstasy. Yuna pulled away from the kiss, and stared down at you with a big smile, but her eyes turned totally vixen.

"Hmmm, your lips taste nice when you've made me cum, Y/N." Yuna spoke seductively. You couldn't help but be overwhelmed with desire for this night to never end.

"Your lips taste nice when you're cumming, Yuna." You retorted, turning her own script on her. She giggled, before regaining her posture. She held out both her hands palm upwards, inviting your hands onto hers. You followed her guidance and placed your hands in hers, and she took firm grasp helping you stand up. She crossed her legs in front of you, denying further access to her. She pointed over to a chair with a bag sitting on it.

"Could you go and grab a condom from there, please?" She requested of you. Your mind raced. She hadn't needed a condom before when touching your dick with her hand or mouth. This had to meant you two were going to fuck, right?  Your excitement causes you to do as told without any questioning, turning your back on her and moving towards the bag. It was filled with Yuna's personal items, but you didn't take long to find a condom. You pulled one out, turning around to move towards Yuna again. This time, she surprised you once more, having removed her top, sitting on the couch waiting for you fully nude, her legs crossed and arms spread, leaning on the head of the couch beside her, exposing her pink nipples for you to admire.

Your mouth fell agape, admiring her every curve, curves that had been the subject of tons of speculation they were fake. If you had your phone with you know, you'd have saved the evidence they were all wrong in a heartbeat. You failed to comment anything on her appearance, being dumbfounded by her beauty, which caused her to raise one eyebrow at you, prodding you for a response. Your lack of vocal response causes Yuna to stand upright, her legs crossing over each other, causing her hips to sway, as she walks over towards you. Both her hands reach for your hips as she gets closer, grasping the edges of your shirt, the last piece of clothing you were wearing, and giving it a soft pull upwards. You got the hint, and lifted your arms up, allowing Yuna to take your shirt off, throwing it to the side.

"So what, you're not going to tell me how pretty I am?" Yuna teased you, shaking her head from side to side.  You snapped back to reality, and quickly thought of the best thing to say to remedy this situation.

"You have to be one of the most beautiful women to roam this earth." You spouted out in a panic, causing Yuna to have to hold back her laugh in response to your compliment. Yuna looked at you, and you weren't sure if it was lovingly or pitifully, but it was only for you, and that's all you seemed to care about.

"That's certainly a unique compliment. Calm down, babe. You're doing great, I'm not going to just randomly kick you out." Yuna reassured you, taking the condom out of your hands, placing her teeth on the edge of a corner of the wrapping, tearing it off, pulling it out and figuring out which way was inside out. You couldn't help but have your entire being flutter from her calling you babe, and her reassurance did wonders for you to relax.

"Thank you. You won't regret picking me." You responded, your eyes meeting hers filled with conviction, showing Yuna her words had worked. She smirked at your newfound confidence, handed you the condom, gave you a smile and posed you with a question. "So, how do you want to fuck me?" You accepted the condom, started wrapping it over your dick and gave some thought to her question.

"Hmmmm." You consciously vocalized out loud, making sure Yuna knew you were considering your options, and were not just too stunned to speak. You looked around the room, and couldn't help but focus your attention on the giant make-up mirror against the wall of the room, drawing your attention before being gifted with an idea. In one smooth motion, you picked Yuna up, carrying her bridal style over towards the make-up mirror. Your sudden heroics caused the unexpecting girl to yelp out in surprise, shocked at the sudden shift or impact her words had seemed to have in unlocking your boldness. She quickly held on tight however, enjoying your display of strength.

You planted your right arm firmly under her knees, freeing your hand and using it to toss the chair in front of the mirror to the side, freeing up all of the space in front of it. Yuna licked her lips at the performance you were putting on, and as soon as you put her down facing you in front of the mirror, she decided that this time it was her turn to hold you tight instead of you holding her tight. Her hand had found her way over to your cock, wrapping tightly around it, slowly stroking it back and forth while looking you into your eyes. Her head nodded in the same rhythm as her hand stroked you, causing your breathing to become louder. You weren't about to stop this momentum with a light handjob, and put your both hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face the mirror.

"I'm going to show you just how pretty you look when I'm fucking your brains out, babygirl." You shot back, taking the initiative on the teasing. Yuna's eyes were big, surprised from you spinning her around, and you could see them clearly in the reflection of the mirror. Upon hearing your provocation, she smirked back at you, as if to challenge you. Her eyes were clearly expecting great things from you, but her mouth made it even clearer, asking you to "make me fucking scream." She places her arms onto the counter of the makeup table in front of the mirror, stabilizing herself, arching her back for you as if she knew what to expect.

Your hands planted themselves firmly onto her wide hips, grasping her tightly with your fingers digging into her skin. You pulled her ass a little closer to you, causing her to arch her back further towards you, to which she playfully accepted and wiggled her hips at you, as if to invite you in. You placed your gift-wrapped cock against her mound, sliding it slowly up and down her entrance. You were teasing her, waiting for her to grow impatient for your moment to strike. Her smirk eventually turned into a frown, waiting for you to put yourself inside of her.

"Stop teasing me, Y/N. Start fu-" she had started to say, intending to finish her sentence with "cking me!". Unfortunately for her, you felt like the perfect time to strike would be right as she started saying fuck, causing her voice to grow louder, and scream out further with "UUUUUUUUUUUUUCK". You slammed your hips against her ass with full force, jamming the entire length and girth of your cock into her petite, drenched with anticipation, pristine pussy. Her eyes rolled back into her head, feeling the warmth of your cock pulse inside of her, and you weren't about to let up. Her moans were varying in pitch, her breathing unable to keep up with her voice, as you pulled your cock back until only the tip remained, instantly slamming back into her wet cunt.

"Ugh, ungghh nghhh, FUCK." Yuna kept moaning, unable to lower her voice, and you began to wonder whether or not she'd be heard outside of this room. She was beginning to hunch forward, unable to support herself through your rough slamming of her thin body, so you decided to take a chance and lend her a hand. You moved your left hand from her hips over to her stomach, pulling it closer to you, and your right hand all the way up, around her neck. You put some light pressure on the sides of her neck, before gripping her towards you, and into your body. You placed your head right next to hers, pulling her upwards to you, her arms now too far away from the make-up table to reach, causing her eyes to open, looking surprised at what was happening. She looked into your eyes through the mirror, and you whispered into her ears.

"I promised you I would show you how pretty you looked, so look. I want you to see the goddess that I see when I'm fucking you." you growled in a low, whispering voice, commanding her to follow your lead. She purred, biting her underlip and nodding slowly at you, looking straight ahead as you released the tension on your elbow, continuing to hold your hand around her neck but supporting her arch as you resumed your pounding. You enjoyed the feeling of control you had over her body in this position, but you couldn't help but feel that a slight shift could give you even more access to her weak spots. Her arms were dangling behind her, grabbing onto whatever part of you she could hold on to, but you had better usage in mind for them. You moved your left hand from her stomach onto her left wrist, grabbing it firmly, and once holding tight, did the same with your right. You had stopped pounding for these few seconds to properly get everything in place, causing the girl to look at you through the mirror and ask you "What's wrong? Why did you stop, babe?"

Her calling you babe again ignited something deep inside of you, and you addressed her concern. "I'm going to start really fucking you now." You touted, like a stone-cold killer wanting to intimidate their target. Her eyes panicked, darting to meet yours.

"What do you mean, really fucking me? Hey, wait, what do you-" She tried to ask of you, her arms now bent back behind her as you pulled on them, before you cut her off, slamming your cock so hard inside of her she stumble forwards, her hips getting pressed against the high make-up table, forcing her to lower her stomach onto it, which pulled back into a beautiful curved arch. The tension you forced upon her pushed all the air out of her lungs as she heaved and moaned out of pleasure, still looking at your and her reflection in the mirror. Her mouth was wide open, her tongue clearly showing, as the tip of her eyebrows pushed together into her forehead. She was trying to say something but having trouble pushing it out.

"Cu-... Cum! Fuck, cumming!" She yelled as loud as she could, and you felt her tight walls gripping your cock, making moving harder. Her hips moved upwards, as she was now standing on her toes, her legs trembling through your relentless siege of her womb, but you gave her no reprieve. You kept pounding, even picking up the pace when you felt her cum, like a man possessed by her sex-fueled body. You kept increasing the tension on her arms, pulling her back further and further.

"Nghhh, you're gonna... fucking... break my back! FUCK, ngghhh, don't! Don't stop OHHH" She moaned, her voice cracking as she begged you to continue. You hadn't cum yet, and you had no intention of stopping before you did. You were getting close and Yuna felt it. She used whatever force she had left in her body to push her hips into yours, grinding your cock up and down while you pounded deeper and deeper.

"Fuck, Yuna, I'm gonna cum for you!" You grunted out, moaning behind her, feeling your climax near. Her eyes elated, a slight smile formed, instantly pounded away into submission by your cock, before Yuna started pleading with you.

"Cum for me! Cum deep inside me please! PLEASE please please please-" She begged, a submissive little slut begging for your seed, which was just enough to send you over the edge. You didn't want to cum without her however, and decided to make one last play before reaching the finish line. You leaned forwards, playing on the knowledge you had gotten from what she liked earlier this evening, opening your mouth and protruding your tongue, licking her spine from as far down to the base you could move upwards. She started twitching upon feeling your spit on her back, soon followed by her legs twitching and her pussy tightening. If this wasn't enough to tell you your gamble was a success, her screaming "Yes!" sure was. Your cock pulsed, shooting load after load into the condom inside of her, her walls vibrating rhythmically, as you took in this sensation, almost unable to keep yourself standing during.

After you came, you pulled out of her and took a few steps back. Yuna was now standing on her toes, her entire upper body laying on the make-up table, and her head had turned to face you, but her eyes were momentarily closed. You took in the sight of the half-passed out, fucked silly girl, before dropping back into the couch, taking a seat and a much needed breather.

Yuna had heard you falling down onto the couch, causing her to open her eyes and look towards you. She picked herself up with whatever strength she had, stumbling towards you and falling down onto the couch next to you. She was laying on her stomach, her ass up, red from you crashing into her.

She tilted her head upwards and looked at you, satisfied with your performance and proud of herself for picking you out. Her feet were up in the air, kicking like a giddy schoolgirl, before forming a circle with her left thumb and index finger wrapping around the part of the condom dividing your tip and your cum. She squeezed tight, cutting off any flow, then pulled the condom off of your dick carefully so as not to leak a single drop of cum. She tied a knot at the bottom of the condom to make sure its contents were safe. You looked on as she did this, while her eyes focused on your groin, impressed with the fact that she still had any energy left.

"A souvenir to remind me of you." She murmured, loud enough for you to hear, before grabbing a Ziploc bag and pen that had been lying on the table all evening long, placing your condom inside and writing your name in it and zipping it closed.

"Thank you." You spoke up to her, still unable to believe any of this happened. "This was a once in a lifetime experience for me." You continued, grateful to have been given this chance. Yuna looked back up at you, her head ever so slightly tilted sideways, puzzled at your remark.

"Are you coming to any of our other shows?" She asked you in response, suddenly changing the topic.

"Ehm, actually, I'm coming to see you at your show in two days as well." You replied back ever so confused. You thought she must have felt burdened by your remark and just wanted to get this over with while still being polite.

She smirked the same devious smile you gave her when you pounded the life out of her, and in less than a second had thrown her entire mouth over your cock, her tongue wrapping around your shaft from tip to base, sucking and slurping hard, licking every inch before releasing you with a pop.

"You'll have to be clean for that show too." She taunted you, her voice daring, playful and bubbly all at the same time. "And I wouldn't be so sure about that ‘once in a lifetime’ part." She smiled seductively, her eyes wide open staring deep into your soul. "Your dick tastes nice after you've made me cum, after all."

[gghostwriter]

Time Gave No Compass, Were There Clues?

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times fate brings you to cross paths with a certain handsome stranger and the one time he purposely crosses with yours Trope:It’s fluff in a meet cute type of way w.c: 5.6k+ a/n: this is connected to ‘One Single Thread of Gold’! This took forever to make simply because I had this fear that the second part wouldn’t come out as great as the first and I’ve been in a writing funk lately—not quite sure if my writing worsened or got better during this period but at this point, maybe I shouldn’t care that much anymore? That’s a lie so please comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

The first encounter—a knight in a vintage blue vehicle

The drumming noise of the rain against the vinyl awning of the Japanese restaurant became the perfect soundtrack for watching countless strangers scurry to the nearest shelter.

It was the night that you have dubbed your unluckiest as a woman in Washington—up until he came along.

According to the morning weather forecast, there was little to no chance of rain. A radiant reprieve from the downpour of light rainfall the city had been experiencing three days in a row. A believer of facts you were, excitedly slipped on your new pair of heels and joined the outside world, sun shining up above the sky without a single speck of dark cloud lingering in its wake.

The work day was nothing special—jumping on video calls with your boss, answering international emails from the magazine’s sister branches abroad, and reviewing articles set to be published for next month’s print.

Nothing unusual. No sign that the day would roller coaster down and up again, before ending right before a drop, leaving you white knuckled with anticipation.

As you were exiting the diner with your freshly cooked to-go in one hand, the weather decided to beat the statistics presented by the news forecast. Rain poured down hard, effectively stranding you on the covered sidewalk.

“Oh,” you mumbled under your breath, forced to settle down on the empty outdoor seating. The gust of cold wind that caressed your cheeks to turn pink reminded you of comforting childhood memories—warm cocoa, blanket forts, and cuddles with your precious teddy bear. 

It brought a smile on your face, recalling the time when life was still simple.

Working as a writer for an established fashion magazine had its own ups and downs. You felt lucky enough to be given the opportunity to work with living and breathing artists, all the while having the flexibility to live anywhere in the country.

Your boss initially found it odd when you mentioned temporarily moving back to Washington. It wasn’t a state well-established in the industry after all. It was a city filled with starched pressed suits, neutral ties, and newly shined loafers—the epicenter for politics and everything serious. 

The ridiculous misconception about fashion and its frivolousness caused your nose to scrunch. It was the same idea that pushed newly graduate you to move to New York and burn the midnight oil to be where you were now, highly respected in the circle.

She understood your truth—the need for a change of scenery before jumping back in to the game with fresh new eyes. Jokingly, she wagered you’d only last two months away from the Big Apple before coming back. It had been six months since then and you were starting to believe the urge for the city that never sleeps will never cross your mind again.

As you mused about the trajectory of your career, the clouds started to let up, enough that you took the chance to open your compact umbrella and possibly ruin your heels to get to the nearest subway entrance just 10 minutes away.

A mistake that you realized halfway as a sudden blast of strong wind flipped your umbrella inside out, rending you vulnerable to the hasty returning rain.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath as water started to stain your light purple satin heels, turning them near black.

Definitely ruined.

The flickering light of the entrance and the still warm spot underneath the restaurant pulled you in two different directions. Should you just brave the weather already starting to look like a drowned animal or should you go back with your tail tucked between your legs?

As you debated your next move, being poorly protected by your broken umbrella and soaked by the tormenting weather no less, a blue vintage car came to a stop beside you and honked it’s horn.

“Um—do you need help? A ride, maybe?” a voice shouted out of the rolled down passenger window, barely heard against the torrential downpour.

A good Samaritan was rare this day and age. So uncommon that it made you immediately wary. You looked around, making sure it was you the stranger was addressing before uttering a reply.

“Depends on who’s asking,” your free hand clutching the ends of your spoiled umbrella. “Are you a serial killer by any chance?” 

He paused, caught off guard with your question, and chuckled. “What? No, no. Not at all, just a concerned citizen.”

You bit your lip, wavering between accepting his offer at the risk of your life, before reaching to open the passenger door. “Fair enough.”

The stranger promptly layered a black windbreaker on the tan leather seats. “Sorry, it’s just—did you know that wet leather can lead to discoloration?”

Your eyebrows raised, shuffling to get comfortable on the seat—mindful of your back not touching, before giving him a nod. “Yes, actually I did but it’s great to see someone else know about it too.”

He pressed his lips together into a tight smile and reached forward on the console, tinkering with the unlabeled knobs, turning up the heat. 

Your eyes tracked his every movement, curious as to any indication to who this mysterious gentleman was.

His nails were light pink in color, clean, and cut short—possibly for a desk office job. His fingers were long and bony, model length you’d surmise—a little calloused on one side of his middle finger possibly from holding a pen too tight. The back of his hand veined and wide in size, big enough to dwarf your dainty slim hands in comparison.

Your cheeks heated up, feeling guilty for gawking at a man’s hands before spilling your address without so much of a thought for your safety.

The stranger blanched, clearly caught off guard with your trusting nature. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to go with strangers willingly? Or provide vital information about yourself for that matter?”

You appraised his profile as his eyes trained on the road. 

Hazel colored hair that curled around his face. Sunken eyes framed by long, dark lashes that any woman could envy. A tall and straight nose bridge. Maroon pillowy lips and a sharp jawline perfectly matched with a five-o’clock shadow.

He was handsome.

Pretty even.

The type you’d see a casting agent and photographer fawn over.

Shoulders seemingly angular and wide, stretching his black knitted cardigan well. It’s arms pushed up to showcase his forearms lithe in form with muscles flexing underneath as he twists the wheel to take a right. His seat pushed the farthest it could go, highlighting how tall he could be.

Your handsome gentleman could rival male models that graced your magazine’s editorial pages.

“Well, you don’t look like a serial killer and I think I’d take my chances with you than out there—” a flash of lightning trailed on the darkened sky followed by a loud clap of thunder. “—yeah, I stand with my choice.”

His laughter mid-pitched, filled the confined space. “And how does a serial killer look like?”

“Sinister and not trustworthy. You look neither, by the way,” you shrugged.

“Actually, there’s a minor percentage of killers that don’t fit in your description. Ted Bundy is an example, he used his good looks to lure in unsuspecting women.”

You hummed in agreement. “You’re right and you could definitely use your looks too but I still doubt you’re one. Let’s call it intuition and if I had to guess, you work at a desk job. Finance or Human Resources, maybe?”

“Are you saying I look—” he cleared his throat, a wrinkle appearing between his well shaped brows. “—handsome?”

“Well, at the risk of sounding like I’m flirting with you—which I’m not, well, maybe. But yes, I think you’re good looking. Handsome.” 

The pink flush that slowly darkened to a cherry red started its descent to his exposed neck, making him look more endearing. His reaction made it quite obvious he was never one to receive such flattery about his appearance which made you question the eyes of the women around him.

He was utterly distinguished and dressed in this comforting nerdy fashion that added to the appeal.

“I take it you’re not used to compliments.”

The long lashes that framed his molten chocolate eyes fluttered, as if highlighting is naivety in dealing with the opposite sex.

It sent butterflies free in your stomach.

“Yeah, but thank you. And I’m really not a serial killer—I wouldn’t be using a memorable vehicle in picking up a victim in a crowded street with city cameras around. Not that, that information helps me state my case. In fact, it’s making it worse—” he rambled out, easing the car into a stop beside your apartment complex. “What I meant was, I-I think you’re good looking too, beautiful.”

You laughed at the absurdity of where your night has ended up.

The air trapped between two bodies crackled with an energy you couldn’t name. It was humming below the surface, making you feel hyper aware of the man who drove you home.

It was igniting.

Possibly the start of something.

In contrast, the outside was quiet and still. The rain had finally come and gone, leaving behind its comforting atmosphere.

The lamp posts reflecting off the puddles of water, tinting the streets a warm, honey gold color. Leaves dancing, like string puppets controlled by the forces of nature. The wind whispering and giggling—to what, you didn’t know but you felt it wasn’t important to dissect. No more important than the stranger who’s scent, aged books and cedar wood, intermingled with yours, vanilla and a hint of amber.

“Thank you for the ride,” quickly exiting the vehicle. Suddenly you felt shy as the last few minutes replayed in your head—how trusting you were to take his offer and how naive it was of you to let your guard down.

The sound of a subsequent car door opening echoed on the empty street. “You’re welcome and you’re wrong, by the way.”

“Wrong about what?” You twisted to look back.

The street lights hitting his face, casting a mysterious shadow on his handsome features.

“About me working in finance or human resources.”

Huh. 

Your steps faltered to a stop.

That was a first—people around you always did say you read people best.

He was an exception it seemed.

An anomaly.

A mystery you wouldn’t mind taking a second try in solving.

“Better luck next time then. I hope to see you around,” you waved as you opened the heavy metal gate behind you.

His hand mimicked your goodbye before promptly reaching down to open his car door, effectively disappearing from your gaze as you pushed the main door open to the lobby.

As you watched the remaining water droplets slide down your coat, waiting for the rickety elevator to descend, an all important question popped in your mind that you never uttered into the world.

His name.

You forgot to ask for his name.

Hurriedly running back to the entrance, your stained heels clacking on the stoned pathway, you opened the gate just to spy the gentleman’s memorable light blue vehicle rev forward to blend into the chilly city night. 

Damn.

**

The second—a shared cup of Joe between two no longer strangers

The sun peeking underneath the cotton candy white clouds did little to fight off the inevitable Autumn air. Weeks of sunny days from the past storm is nearing its end causing the city occupants to flood the streets and parks for their last soak of Summer. 

Weeks have gone since your enthralling encounter with the handsome stranger and his vintage blue car. You’ve spent days replaying the memory in hopes of finding any more clues on who he was or even how to run into him again. Nights lamenting over the missed opportunity and the bitter what-if that came with it. The thought, now hazy from time passed, seemed to be colored in this golden hue you couldn’t quite describe.

A sigh escaped from between your pale pink lips. 

The moment was captivating.

He was beguiling.

But until you run into him again, his very being in your mind lived rent free.

Hand adjusting the pale pink scarf wrapped around your neck, you stepped into the warm quaint bakery down by the office. The aroma of freshly baked bread and roasting coffee beans enveloped the otherwise packed store. It was still early on the day and otherwise sleep deprived workers were queuing up for their daily fix.

This had been your spot since renting a small office space to commute to. Given your need to separate home from work, you’ve opted to find a studio you could call your temporary ‘work room’. It added extra expense, you’d agree but the comfort of being in a sea of strangers going to and from added a sense of productivity you’d never quite get if you created a makeshift office in your one bedroom apartment downtown.

You squeezed your way towards the front to view the pastry selection when you spotted him.

The gentleman in question at the counter, clearly holding up the line. 

He flashed Sarah, your usual fixer as you joked, a tight smile filled with apologies and embarrassment. 

Destiny seemed to have heard your calls and to that you were grateful.

Not wanting to let this second chance encounter go to waste, you excused yourself to the register and deftly slid your card on the white granite counter.

“Hey Sarah, do you mind adding my order with his? And a one of your buttery croissants would be much appreciated.”

Her eyebrows raised, clearly wondering the reason behind your surprising actions. Eyes flickered to the stranger beside you muttering his light disagreeing reaction before nodding towards you, as if agreeing with what she saw. “One long black and a flat white coming right up.”

“Hey stranger, fancy seeing you here,” you cocked your head to the side, loose tendrils escaping the confines of your loose bun.

The same blush that haunted you graced his face. “Hey—hi, it’s you! It’s nice to see you again,” his fingers proceeded to fiddle with his leather worn wallet. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. Pay for my coffee, I mean.”

“It’s no problem at all, just think of it as my payment for the ride the other day and also a thank you for, you know, not turning out to be a killer, like you kept bringing up.”

He chuckled, eyes crinkling close. “Well, I just wanted to instill some extra caution in you. It’s good to think well of people in general but it doesn’t hurt to be wary of them either. Especially the statistics of you—a young woman being targeted is quite high no matter how safe Washington seems to be.”

“I did get an earful from my friend about the reckless act I did. So, safe to say I’ve learned my lesson—” you paused, flashing Sarah a smile as your hands wrapped around the steaming cup of coffee and the bag containing the pastry. “But between you and me, I think she was more miffed about something I didn’t do.”

He mimicked your movements and proceeded to guide you to the nearest available standing table, his free hand hovering near the small of your back. 

“And what was it?”

“Not getting your name.”

His free hand wrapped around the strap of his satchel, pulling it towards the front of his body as if it was a shield that could hide away the blush that slowly crept down his neck.

“I, yeah—Spencer. Spencer Reid.” 

You introduced yourself with the same enthusiasm, finally at ease for knowing who he was.

“Well then, Spencer Reid, was I really wrong or was that just a lie to throw my deductive skills off course?” your hands pushing the packets of sugar towards his steaming open cup.

He thank you silently, counting at least 8 packets of sugar before returning the remaining ones in the jar. “What do you mean?”

“You not working in finance.”

“Well statistically speaking, more than 43% of the offices located here don’t belong in the finance section,” he grinned. 

With his eyes twinkling, he further continued. “21% of those are actually the government sector while the remaining are a mixture of publishing, business, and IT.”

“You sprouting off statistics doesn’t really sway me from my guess, you do know that?” You hummed, watching him dump and stir all the sugar into his dark cup of Joe. The idea of how sweet it would be sent a slight shiver down your spine. “If not finance then hmm—what about teaching?”

Appraising his get up for the day—a purple button down layered with a seemingly fraying cardigan and a black overcoat. He reminded of you of those quirky university professors that students would have no problem having a crush on. 

“You look like a young college professor with a couple degrees under your belt. Maybe literature? Or math?”

An airy laughter emitted between his lips. “Why is it always returning back to math?”

“I truly don’t know—” you shrugged. “You look smart and academic so that’s my best guess.”

“There’s actually a statistic on how many academically gifted people end up in the field of science rather than in math but I don’t know if you’d like to hear it.”

You leaned forward. “I actually do but that would cement my idea of you in maths.”

A ring from his pocket interrupted his reply. Spencer clambered to answer the call even before its’ third ring. 

“Yeah. Okay, got it. 5 minutes.” 

Any humor or lightheartedness the conversation brought had been erased from his face. It must have been work and the gravity of his responsibility must be heavy—definitely not finance and maybe not a professor then.

“I have to go—” Spencer tightly smiled, hands pulling the satchel and drink closer to his body. “It was really nice seeing you again.” 

You nodded, wordlessly walking out of the shop with him. As he started to step away from your presence, he turned back one last time to further throw you off course.

“You were right about one thing.”

Brows furrowing together, you shout back. “Which one?”

Spencer just smiled and shrugged his shoulders before turning forward, picking up his pace and leaving you further baffled about his mystery.

**

The third—a run- in during an otherwise idle day

The white noise the train against its tracks threatened to lull you into a daze. Its compartment surprisingly sparse with occupants during this otherwise tranquil Saturday. Everyone seemed to be at nearby parks, watching the leaves slowly turn this red-orange hue.

Your companion in hand—a book with its spine cracked and front cover folded backwards, sat idly on your denim lap. It was a tattered and worn copy of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. When you were in your teens, it had been the gateway to your love of classic literature and it had been your favorite ever since.

The bench you were seated on shifted and with it, medium brown brogues registered in your periphery.

Inwardly, you scoffed at the stranger invading your space when there were a multitude of empty seats available in your section. Briefly you wondered if this was going to be another day of being picked up by men who didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’ which inevitably would ruin your day. 

As you were debating on nicely excusing yourself away, the man cleared his throat.

“Hey—hi,” he sheepishly greeted in this voice that had been replaying in your head since that rainy weekday night. 

You blinked away the surprise—the bafflement that fate had seemed to cross your path with his again and again and again. It always happened when you least expected it. After all, you spent numerous days craning your neck for even a small glimpse of Spencer Reid to no avail. Your eyes would subconsciously sweep the streets for a view of any suede coat matched with a purple pattern scarf. It had been your own version of Where’s Waldo—a past time that your friend joined as you forbade her (and by extension, yourself) from looking him up online. 

You wanted to keep the mystery and it seemed fate was rewarding you today.

“Hi-hey Spencer. This is a surprise,” your cheeks stretching wide from the grin you gave him. 

His fingers brushed a nonexistent stray of hair behind his ears. “Yeah, I couldn’t believe it was you. The odds of ever seeing you again—or anyone I’d know on the train is low, with how many people Virginia has.”

“Isn’t it fascinating?” your hands closing the book that no longer held your attention. “How we seemed to just run into each other? Funny how that works.”

“I mean, you could say that—not that I believe in destiny or fate with how abstract and little scientific studies it has. Maybe we just run in the same small schedule or circle.”

Your eyebrow raised, appraising his look. 

His hair looked unruly—with one side more flattened the the other, possibly slept on. His clothes, although free from any stains that would indicate it as yesterday’s, had crease marks that were reminiscent of its folding. They were clean but also not pressed—came from the satchel then. The very same bag laying on his lap, no doubt filled with dirty laundry and other necessities.

“I don’t think so,” you pondered on. “Are you just on your way back home from work, by any chance?”

“How’d you know that?” His voice cracking at the end.

You shrugged. “I pick up on things, small details and all that.”

“That’s really good. Must come in handy with your work as a journalist.”

Now it was your turn to be surprised. “How’d you know that? How’d—what gave it away?”

“It was an educated guess which—” he flashed you a grin. “—you just confirmed now.”

“Touche. Although that does seem unfair,” you pouted. “You know my occupation but I can’t even get yours right.”

He tilted his head to the right, eyes twinkling with life that keeps you pulled in. “You’re welcome to guess. In fact, I could give you a clue if you wanted—” he paused waiting for your agreement which you readily gave. “—alright you were right about one thing the last time: the one about me having multiple degrees.”

“You look young so I’m guessing a genius?”

“Well, my co-workers do like to tease me as one and it is true so yeah. I am a genius.”

The way his eyes shifted showed how bashful he was in admitting out loud he was one. You briefly wondered if there was ever a time where he felt embarrassed about it—probably in high school, you’d surmise. Teenagers, after all, had the tendency to ostracize anyone who doesn’t fit the rigid status quo they’ve collectively agreed upon.

“That’s amazing!” You gushed. “And it does narrow it quite down, actually. Do you happen to work for the government? I mean, I’m sure they try to collect the best minds our country has to offer, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do work for the government. And you’re right, they do tend to employ gifted adults as a way to also surveillance them—to make sure they don’t turn into anti-statists or anarchists.”

You pondered over every detail he presented. Freshly manicured nails tapping on your leg before finally guessing. “Okay so, I was first going to say NASA because—” you shrugged. “—it’s space but then that would be too stereotypical of me to assume. Plus, you’ve thrown off just about any deductions I’ve made during our first two meetings—”

Spencer nodded. He seemed proud to listen to you ramble your way through. 

“—I was also going to guess administrative work but it’s a weekend and you’re just on your way home so that’s a no—”

A small spread on his face.

A good sign that you were in the right direction.

“—it can’t be the judiciary too, right? I always imagined them to be wearing neutral suits and have this stoic air around them—”

He chuckled.

“—so I’m guessing law enforcement? Can’t be a regular cop, they have uniforms. So, for the FBI? Or am I just reaching?”

Spencer vigorously nodded his head, the wavy tendrils tucked behind his ears escaping their confines. 

“That’s right! Wow—you’re really good at this. Maybe you should have also been scouted!” He teased.

You giggled, the happiness from getting it right and the idea of you working with a gun seemed ludicrous. “Sadly, I may be too clumsy for that kind of work. With my type of luck, I’d probably trip over my feet and mess up a crime scene.”

The automated voice announcing the next station broke through the lighthearted conversation. Spencer’s eyes widened ever so slightly, indicating that this was his stop.

“I guess this is it, huh? See you soon then, Spencer?”

He sandwiched his lower lip between his pearly teeth. “Would you be interested in purposefully seeing each other next time? I would love to get to know you more—over dinner? Coffee? Any would be great—you don’t have to say yes of course but yeah.”

“Can I say yes to all of the above?” You teased. “I would love to.”

Spencer started to get up, hands pulling on his satchel to secure it. The train was coming to a stop and you could begin to see the stop come into view.

Your hand quickly reached out to tug on his rolled sleeve. “Wait—how do we contact each other?”

“It’s tucked in your book. My number, I mean,” he laughed. The sound coaxing you to release your own. “See you!”

Your eyes tracked him getting off the train and his would meet yours one last time, before disappearing towards the station’s nearest exit. Your hands hastily opened the front page to where a new object was slotted in between without you knowing.

His calling card.

Federal Bureau of Investigation - Behavioral Analysis Unit SSA Dr. Spencer Reid 1-761-xxx-xxxx

Giggling, you fished your phone from the confines of your wallet and quickly sent out a text.

Hey. Are you a magician too, by any chance? 

**

The fourth or better yet, the planned first—two strings interwoven by fate

Spencer hadn’t been able to explain the circumstances that led him here tonight—walking through a nearby park in the sparkly but cold weekend night with a beautiful woman right by his side. 

The dinner date had gone surprisingly well. So great in fact that he didn’t want it to end. Suggesting to walk you back home rather than use his blue well beaten vehicle left parked near the restaurant was his idea to prolong the night. 

He was well aware that you both could be exposing yourselves to a seasonal bout of cold but for the first time, it didn’t matter to his overactive and over-analytical brain. Nor did it seem to matter to you—given with how vigorously she accepted his suggestion to walk. 

Your dainty right hand was wrapped around the bouquet of flowers he personally selected. An array of daisies, daffodils, and sedums.

Joy from having to meet you, to new beginnings, and affection.

Spencer wanted to convey what he had been feeling since that run-in the coffee shop. Regardless if you knew what they meant.

This was all uncharted territory and the incidents that brought them into each other’s worlds was baffling to say the least. 

Was this the really the works of fate?

Does this prove that destiny is true and the notion of having free choice is a lie we tell ourselves?

He concluded it probably didn’t matter.

All that mattered was where he was now—with you.

“So you really took all those degrees all together?” you clarified, eyes widening from disbelief. “The amount of studying and writing you’ve done must have been massive.”

“Well, it did help that I could read fast—20,000 words per minute, but I could still remember my hands cramping from the amount I had to type down.”

“Of course you can still remember, with your eidetic memory and all. That must be nice—never forgetting any novel you’ve read.”

He shrugged. “It does have it’s perks but between you and me, there is a downside to it.”

You halted in her step, staring inquisitively up at him. 

Spencer found it cute—how even with yout heeled boots on, you could only reach up to his chest. It gave him this sense of protectiveness over you being. 

“Oh yeah, like what?”

He pondered. “Well, we did have this one vampire case and one of the victim’s laptop password was ‘Cullen’ and I didn’t get the reference—thought it was ‘colon’ actually. So I decided to read the first book and didn’t like it.”

“You actually read ‘Twilight’?” You giggled. It sounded like wind chimes echoing through the trees.

“I was curious!” His voice went up an octave. “Is that what teens are reading, really? What ever happened to reading ‘Lord of the Flies’ or Franz Kafka during high school, for that matter?” 

“The one where a group of boys are stranded on an island or the one where the protagonist turns into a cockroach? Doesn’t really read romance for teen girls, Spencer.”

He chuckled. “And a 104 year old vampire does?”

“It’s about the idea,” you continued on walking, free hand swinging in between you—all he had to do was reach out and intertwine it with his but could he do that? Should he? Would she want that? “How Bella is your average, teen next door and someone like Edward, mysterious and handsome, could fall for her. It’s about the premise—I mean which teenage girl didn’t dream of something like that?”

“Does that include you too?”

You laughed. “I mean—Edward isn’t really my type but sure, I guess.”

Spencer decided to do it. He tentatively reached out his pinky to yours, looping them together.

There, a small touch you could say no to.

He waited for the reaction. From himself, there was a lack of worry for germs (this surprised him) and from you, the possibility of rejecting his small advances. With a breath lodged in his throat, Spencer watched a shy smile grace your face and cheeks turn further pink. 

Empowered by the reaction, he reached out to intertwine the rest of his freezing hand with yours and proceeded to tuck both into his coat pocket. Spencer felt his cheeks emit warmth, wondering where his courage came from. If Morgan just saw him now, no doubt he’d get a pat at the back and a whispered ‘you’ve got serious game, kid.’

“It’s a good thing he isn’t my type at all, don’t you think so?” You whispered. “I mean, you don’t sparkle in the sun, do you?”

His laughter echoed through the otherwise empty streets. 

“Oh god—that was so so bad. Ignore my cheesy flirting, please.”

“No, no,” he shook his head, feeling lightheaded from your presence. “I don’t think I do, actually. We could check—” clearing his throat “—once the weather gives way to the sun.”

It seemed like you got what he was subtly stating. “That long, huh? I’ll hold you to that promise.”

“Please do.”

Both your steps slowed to a stop in front of your apartment complex.

Spencer sighed under his breath, he really didn’t want the night to end. There was still so much to talk about—anything and nothing at the same time. Is this what they meant when they said time flies when you’re having fun? 

“Well,” you squeezed his hand twice. “This is it. I had fun tonight, Spencer.”

He squeezed back in return. “I did too. Can I—call you again?”

You nodded, a single tendril of hair escaping from its' loose bun.

Mesmerized, Spencer reached forward and secured it behind your reddening ear. “Get home safe.”

“I doubt anything would happen between my way up from the elevator to my door but I will. Drive safe and let me know you got in safely, got it?”

He reluctantly let go of your hand, slowly backing away without turning his back on you. Each second seeing you bundled up in a coat with flowers still on hand was an image he never wanted to forget, never wanted to miss.

As he was a few steps away, the wind carried your sweet voice to his ears.

“Hey, Spencer. There’s one thing I think you forgot to take with you.” 

He patted his coat, unsure as to what you were pertaining to. Eyes scanning his being when the distinct sound of your heels against the pavement, getting closer and closer, made him look up.

A pair of soft warm lips met his cheeks. 

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

His jaw dropped. The act short circuited his otherwise intelligent brain. It felt like every thought had dropped away, turning insignificant, compared to the tensed silence between two individuals once considered strangers but now intertwined in a way he could not explain in any language he knew. 

Little white specks floated down from the sky, coloring the moment in the lightest color ever possible—a hue that symbolized new beginnings.

Before his mind could catch up, Spencer felt himself moving.

Towards you.

Closing in. 

Cupping your cheeks.

And meeting his own lips with the ones that short circuited his brain.

In that moment, all he could comprehend was the smell of you—like freshly cleaned laundry dried under the sun. The taste of you—cherries with a hint of the red wine you drank over dinner. And the feel of you—warm, hands grasping his coat tight, flowers dropped on the ground, momentarily forgotten.

These were details he willed to engrave in his eidetic memory. Observations he doesn’t want to forget.

And you, the single woman he hopes to never lose.

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[miss-fanfictions]

Sundays at the Library

Part Two

Pairing] Spencer Reader x glasses wearing! shy! librarian! fem!Reader

Synopsis] Spencer talks to the sweet librarian at his new library and slowly Sundays become his favorite day of the week.

Warnings] Cursing, creepy guy, misunderstandings (but its cute I promise), written from Spencer's POV

Word Count] 8.9k

Author's Note] This is my first fic here! I'm planning on doing a few more parts to this, so this is only the beginning 🙃

The first time Spencer saw you, the encounter wasn’t anything special. 

If he wasn’t working, he was reading, and because he can read 20,000 thousand words per minute, he needed new books often. Not even his FBI salary could afford the amount of books he consumed in a month and his cozy apartment certainly couldn’t contain them all. Already his bookcases were spilling out onto nearby surfaces. So to quench his constant need for new books, Spencer borrowed books from the library. However, since the one near his apartment closed just a week ago, he had to find a new one. That led him to drive to the library ten minutes away. 

It was larger than the one down the street from his apartment—it had a full three floors. Beyond the double doors, he followed two velvet rope barriers onto the main floor of the library, wandering past a grand front desk to his left to where the room divided into two sections and the barriers ended. In the left section, beside the desk, there were a couple computers set up, as well as two printers and a side wall dedicated to DVDs. In the other section there were tables and chairs set up for quiet studying, as well as more comfortable lounges for reading. Behind those two sections started the book shelves, nearly ceiling high and organized via genre and then further alphabetized. When he ascended the staircase at the back of the main floor, he found the upper levels were fully dedicated to rows of shelving containing books, interspersed with a few tables and lounges for reading. 

 He spent approximately 45 minutes getting the layout of the library, as large as it was, and finding the books he wanted to read. Of course, he got a range of books. Two books on psychology, a mathematical textbook, and another two books based in the sciences. A bit of light reading, really, just to occupy his time at home during a busy caseload week. 

He balanced the heavy books awkwardly in his arms as he made his way to the front desk, practically dropping them onto the counter. His lips twisted up in embarrassment, glancing around to see if anyone was disturbed by the loud clatter. When his eyes turned back to the desk, they met the bespeckled ones of you, the librarian, seated behind the counter. They were wide behind the frames, doe-like and startled by the noise. He winced and stuttered out an apology.

Too often he embarrassed himself due to his clumsiness. Over the years, Spencer got a lot better at the shooting range, but he still couldn’t run a mile without tripping a few times, or be able to participate in sports, and he didn’t even want to think about his driving. JJ often compared the experience of being in his passenger seat to riding shotgun with her senile grandmother. No matter what he did, the awkwardness crept in and all he could do was apologize. He didn’t mean to startle the nice librarian who he would seeing every week for the foreseeable future. 

“It’s fine,” your voice was a gentle whisper, perfect for the quiet of the library. You closed the book on your lap and placed it out of sight under the counter, standing up to help him. That’s when he could take you in completely, with your long flowy skirt and oversized sweater. Perhaps a shy attempt to battle the chill running through the library, or maybe a purposeful effort to hide yourself away from prying eyes. He could tell—despite your attire—that you were his age or maybe a little younger. You lacked the wrinkles, grays, and even the weathered dullness associated with age. Your hair was done up messily, effortlessly, and his eyes tracked your chewed up fingernails as you tucked a few strands behind your ears, out of the way of your eyesight. 

He thought you were plain and shy. The soft pastels and neutrals that colored your clothes and the fact the garments covered you so entirely, made you blend into the background. Had he not needed to speak to you directly, he might not have noticed you tucked behind the desk, folded up in your chair with your nose deep in a book. 

“Can I check these out for you?” You asked him, and he almost missed it due to both his staring and your airy cadence. 

“Oh, uh, yes,” he said, then quickly added. “And a library card, please. I’m new to this library.”

“I’ll just need an ID then,” you held out your hand while he rummaged through his wallet for his state ID, and when he placed it into your palm he was careful not to touch your hand. It was less about you as a person as it was his disdain for germs. 

You went about clicking and typing at the computer to the side of the desk, face plain as if whatever you were doing you had done a thousand times. Your nimble fingers only stuttered when you glanced back at him, catching his eyes as he watched you before he darted them away from your face, caught. Quickly, you grabbed the mouse, clicking only three more times before handing back his ID. He was careful not to touch your hand or meet your eyes as he took it back. 

He didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with his staring, he had a habit of it, always trying to profile. But you were just a meek librarian, and there was no reason to take note of your behavior. You went about printing out a physical copy of his new library card, and he opened one of his books to occupy himself as you did so. 

When you turned back to him, you scanned a plastic card before offering it to him with a small smile. “Thank you,” he mumbled as you went about scanning the books on the counter with the same barcode reader. You were on the fourth book when your brows creased and you looked back up at him. 

“Are you studying?” You asked, the words sudden as if you couldn’t hold the thought off your lips. 

“No, this is just some light reading,” he answered politely, because it was. Though he forgot that was maybe not normal, because you giggled at his reply. 

The sound brought his eyes to your lips, the way they parted to let the breathy noise out. It was a unique giggle, though he supposed everyone’s is, but something about it suited you so completely. It was soft, and when he glanced around the library to see that no one else had heard it, he thought it was also just for him. There was no taunting, just joy that you emitted in the most delicate of sounds. If only he could understand what he did to extract it from you. 

“Right,” You said jokingly, and then he thought maybe you didn’t believe him, but he didn’t get a chance to assure you he was being truthful before you finished checking out the books. “Here you go, have a nice day, Spencer.”

He hesitated, thrown off by your use of his name, but cleared his throat and collected his books nonetheless. He thanked you and mumbled a brief goodbye as he did so, not looking back as he rushed out of the library. When he got to his car, he used a pack of disinfectant wipes on the books and set them up in his passenger seat, thoughts of the little librarian withering away to the casework waiting for him at work tomorrow.

—

He finished the books quickly, in only two days actually, but thankfully most of his time was taken up by his work. In his remaining free hours, he resorted to rereading a few books on his shelves. On Sunday, he collected his library books and drove the ten minutes back to his new library, exactly one week since his last visit. 

The inside was chilly and smelled like old paper and leather. There weren't many people he could see on the main floor, a few of what looked like college students spread out studying and some preteens huddled on the computers, whispering snarks and giggles. He walked up to the front desk, following the rug and the velvet rope barriers that led right to it from the entrance. This time he didn’t pass by the desk, but stopped at it to place down his books—quietly.

Your familiar framed eyes looked up at him, just as doe-like as surprise crossed them right before a smile took hold. Again, you closed the book in your lap, though this time Spencer caught a glimpse of its orange and yellow cover before you hid it from sight. He couldn’t make out the title. “Back so soon?”

It had been exactly a week since he’d seen you, and though he had not thought of you much since then, Spencer was incapable of forgetting a face. You looked just as you did last week—messy updo, baggy clothes, bare face. It seemed that was your natural state, or at least what you wore to work, but what Spencer wore to work was pretty much his normal wardrobe and he worked in the FBI, not a library.

“Yes, I need to return these books,” he told you, returning your smile with a quirk of his lips and placing his library card on top of the stack of books. 

When your eyes roamed back down from his to the five books, your brows furrowed. “Give up on studying then?” You asked, scanning the books back into the system. 

For a moment, Spencer was confused, then he recalled every word of your last interaction, and realized you still thought he checked the books out to study them, likely for some graduate classes, given his age. “No, I wasn’t studying them. I just needed a few books for casual reading after work.”

You paused once you turned to the computer, looking at him down your glasses. “Casual reading?” Your eyes went back between the thick books and his face, a smirk of disbelief growing. “You read all these books in a week?”

“Yes.” He shrugged. 

“For fun?” You had a skeptical eyebrow quirked.

“That’s what casual reading normally implies.” Spencer furrowed his brows at your line of questioning. Maybe most people wouldn’t read such topics simply for fun, but why would he lie about that? 

At that, you giggled again, a bird’s song, and resumed clicking at your computer. Your gentle laugh tickled something deep in his chest. Again, there was no malice or ill intent to it, not any that he could see behind your genuine eyes and smile. You simply thought he was a funny guy, and no one ever thought that of Spencer. He was too awkward, or too serious, or even too annoying to be fun. 

You took the stack of books in your arms, the pile reaching right up to your chin, and walked them to a cart behind you. When you turned back, you were still smiling sweetly at him. “Your light reading has been checked back in.” You slid his library card across the counter.

He plucked the card back off it with a thanks, tucking it into the pocket of his sweater vest. For a moment, he debated telling you about his PhDs, his eidetic memory, and maybe even his genius IQ because Spencer always felt the need to prove himself—to state facts—because he wasn’t the funny guy. He was very serious and all the things he was telling you weren’t just silly jokes. Then he worried he might wipe the smile right off your face, and he couldn’t let himself do that. So instead he gave you a stiff nod and continued into the library.

. . . Only to spin right back around, fist awkwardly pressed against his lips. “Oh, also, what is the maximum amount of books I could have checked out at once?”

You had just cracked the spine of your book again when you looked back up at him, a swirling look of confusion on your face. “Ten books, but you don’t have any out so I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

Spencer gave another nod, spinning back around on his heels and taking himself right up to the second floor of the library. He spent approximately 37 minutes collecting books from around the library, setting them aside at tables as he weaved through the rows of bookcases for the different genres. A wealth of knowledge in all areas was useful for his job, and also just for him personally. He found great pride in knowing many things, as annoying as others might find his incessant info-dumping. 

When he finished, he took a stack of books from the table and carried them down from the second floor, slowly stepping down the stairs and craning his neck around the stack to watch his steps. He could be uncoordinated at his best, so there was no need to tempt fate into sending him tumbling down the staircase by not paying attention. 

After successfully making it down, he took long strides to the main desk and set the stack down on the counter. Of course, you looked up at him again, however skipped surprise and jumped into an inviting smile. You closed your book and stood up, taking in the books he set in front of you. “Another five to check out then?”

“No, actually, I’ll be right back.” He turned away so fast he almost missed the way your smile faded and you leaned over the counter to watch him ascending the stairs again, spindly legs taking them two at a time.

He grabbed hold of the second tower of books, nearly dropping the top one in his haste to get back to you. After that he continued to take the stairs carefully even as he felt your eyes on him. Maybe especially because he felt your eyes on him, because if you watched him fall down the stairs he’d have to drive an additional ten minutes away to find another new library, because he certainly wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes anymore. 

Beside the first stack on the counter, he set the second, then placed his library card between them. “This is it, I promise.”

Again, you glanced between him and the books, eyes bugging behind their glass shelter. After a moment or so, as if you were making sure he was serious (he was), you began scanning his card and the books. Despite the larger quantity of books, you were slower as you ran the barcodes on the back, taking the time to read the titles and authors. 

“Are you a graduate student?” You asked, looking at a book on human genealogy. 

Spencer twiddled his thumbs. “No, I’m finished with school for now, but I might go back for another PhD in the future when I have more time,” he answered honestly, the words flowing out quickly, even though he wasn’t sure why he was telling you that. Only about two percent of the U.S. population has a PhD, and an even slimmer percent had more than one. So it was an unusual thing to say.

He thought you might laugh again, or even question him, but you simply hummed and moved onto the next book, chewing your lip. “I’m in a graduate program for poetry,” your voice was quiet, as required by the library environment, but more so than usual, like you seemed embarrassed to share that information. 

It made sense you were a graduate student working in a library while earning your MA in writing. He wondered if you had plans for your degree beyond getting a slight pay increase as a librarian. There was a career as an author, or maybe you wanted to be a teacher or a professor, he could see you doing that, standing in front of a class in your skirts and sweaters pointing at a chalkboard with a ruler, though that image was outdated. More likely you’d be in front of a white board or presenting from a projector. 

“That’s interesting. I find myself reading a lot of nonfiction recently—it helps more with my job, though I also just enjoy facts and statistics—but I’ll always have a special appreciation for fiction. I’m fond of poetry in particular because it’s created for multifaceted analysis,” even in his own whisper, the words were breathy and fast. He had to catch his tongue between his teeth when he caught your eyes trailing back up to him. “What do you plan on doing with your degree?”

“Write poetry hopefully,” the words came out in a gust of wind and your eyebrows quirked up, as if you didn’t believe even your own dream. “Maybe you can analyze it one day.” You finished scanning out the books, putting them back into two neat piles as you did. You went about clicking at your computer, making sure the books were grayed out in the system, avoiding his eyes.

So you did want to be a writer then. He could easily see that as well. Though he got the sense you didn’t believe your aspiration was attainable, and it likely wasn’t due to lack of skill. He told himself he wouldn’t profile you, but he did it practically subconsciously. Your lowered gaze, modest clothes, shy smile, and even chewed nails all pointed to a lack of confidence in yourself. He wasn’t sure why. You were pretty in your own right, and were clearly intelligent and hard working if your pursuit of a masters degree said anything. If you needed a little encouragement, the least he could do was give it to you.  “I look forward to it,” he said, and he was just as sincere as he always had been. 

It only seemed to increase your embarrassment, causing your face to shy further away from his gaze. “Thank you, Spencer.” Even if you couldn’t look at him, your tone was of genuine appreciation, and if he tilted his head just right, he could see the wisp of a smile on your face.

He nodded with a tight lipped smile, staring at you while he waited for the conversation to continue, only to realize you’d finished with his books and it was over. His hands stuttered to gather up the first heap of books, muttering about how he’d be back. However he only got a few paces when he heard you say his name again, feet stopping dead.

“Would you like me to help you carry these out?” You were already trying to get a hold on the books.

Quickly, he shook his head. “No,” the words came out abrupt and firm, louder than he’d ever spoken before in the library, and you flinched. 

“You shouldn’t be following anyone out of here to their cars. This library has a disturbing lack of cameras and an abduction, even in a public area, can happen in less than ten seconds. It’s safest for you to remain in the library and follow the good practice of having someone walk you to your car after your shifts.” Spencer felt obligated to warn you strictly, because your distinct quietness and sweetness made you the perfect prey for the killers he hunted daily. 

Though he almost regretted it as he watched the way your hands retreated from the books, crossing around yourself, and the gentle smile became forced. “Oh. I–I guess I’ll keep that in mind.”

Spencer nodded and hesitated, but didn’t linger much longer before exiting the library and heading back to his car. He was quick to toss the books into his car, your tangled smile stuck in his mind. Was it an odd thing to say? He was only trying to warn you, to keep you safe. But the look on your face, you didn’t seem at all grateful for the advice. Spencer took brisk strides back to the library entrance. You were standing there behind the front desk, arms still crossed, a distant look on your face. When you heard him approaching the counter taking in breath just a little faster from boardline jogging back, you barely spared him a glance. He scared you a bit, he realized, and he didn’t want to leave you like that. 

He paused beside his leftover books, wetting his lips.  “I didn’t mean to scare you with what I said before.” He finally caught your eyes and you seemed to hear him out. “I work in law enforcement, for the FBI actually, and all too often I see cases of nice girls like you who go missing just because you want to help people. Unfortunately it’s a pretty common ruse. So, I—I didn’t tell you all that to make you worry, but because I want you to be safe,” he admitted, and your face softened again, your hands falling back to the counter. It brought a smile to his own face to see you relax your guard again. “It’d also be awful if my librarian went missing. Who will check out the heap of books I keep bringing you?” 

You giggled, your lips pulling into a toothy smile. “It’d definitely suck, but I’d hope you’d put those FBI skills of yours into finding me.”

Spencer chuckled, ducking his head into his chest to quiet the sound as he pulled his books into his arms. “Of course I would, and I wouldn’t stop until I did.” He was good at his job, he never stopped until he found their victim, their unsub. 

You bowed your own head, hand holding your glasses to keep them from slipping down your nose. “Goodbye, Spencer.” You gave him a small wave with the other hand, ending the conversation with averted eyes, but he still noticed the growing color in your cheeks. 

He fumbled with his own wave under the stack of books, really just an outward flash of the fingers he could manage to peel away for a second, and he was glad you weren’t looking at him with how awkward it was. He turned on his heel, pink growing in his own cheeks, and exited the library again for the final time today. The gears in his head grinded the whole way to the car and continued as he grappled to get into it and wiped the books with disinfectant. 

You lingered in his mind longer than a librarian should have. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to warn you, to explain himself to you, or even comfort you. There was something about you, as meek and bashful as you were, that he found charming. Perhaps he saw himself in you, the insecurity. Or maybe it was how different you were from his job, where he was met with the most wicked minds and evil acts. You in comparison were the very image of innocence and life, in your pastel purples and yellows, lively eyes magnified behind glass, and your—your laugh. He liked your giggle. Even though he suspected at times it meant you didn’t fully believe him, he let you find him unserious, just so he could continue to hear that sweet sound tickle his ears in a way that scratched an itch inside him.

He was sitting in the parking lot staring out the windshield lost in his thoughts of you. When someone walked by, he found himself clearing his throat and finally putting his car in drive. You dissipated from his mind as he pulled out of the parking space because his Sunday at the library was over. 

—

It took five days for him to finish the ten books from the library. The team was in California from Tuesday through Thursday, but he took four books with him to read during his down time and while on the jet. He still ended up with spare time that he spent shopping with Penelope and babysitting Henry for JJ and Will’s date night. It was for this reason he was glad to be back in the library on Sunday.

Inside he was hit with the familiar crisp air and the vague smell of paper and coffee. The tables to the left had quite a few more students than usual, though there were not very many to start with previously. He wondered if a bout of exams were coming up. As Spencer neared the front desk, he could smell something else, a faint vanilla scent maybe.

You were there as always, standing this time, and almost leaning over the counter to see the door. You smiled when you saw him and he realized that you must be wearing perfume, because around you the vanilla air became thicker.

“Sunday at 11am. You're more reliable than my alarm clock,” you hummed cheekily.

Spencer set the books he held in his hands on the counter, his messenger bag following them up. “Having a routine is actually really good for you. It’s been proven to reduce anxiety and stress and also helps people to cope with certain mental illnesses,” he told you, pulling the rest of his books out of his bag.

If you were thrown off by his fact telling, you didn’t show it. “That makes sense. I like having a routine, but I’m pretty sure my friends think it makes me boring.”

Spencer dug around in his vest pocket for his library card, brows furrowing. “Why would you think that?”

You plucked it from his fingers, bringing it to the barcode reader without breaking your eye contact. “Because they say it to me all the time.”

“Oh,” Spencer snorted a little and clutched the strap of his bag closer. There’s something different about you today. You’re much more talkative and playful, but it’s also in your appearance too. Your glasses are still perched on your nose and your face is bare as it always is, but your updo is more put together, less stands fall away into your face. You wear another long skirt, but it's tighter, less flowy, and he can nearly make out the shape of your legs through it. You’re wrapped in a cardigan too, but where one side falls open he can see your tank top underneath and the sight of your skin has him clearing his throat and bringing his eyes back to your face. 

“And how was your recreational reading?” You’ve started to scan the books back into the system. “You must have been pretty entertained with ten books in seven days.” You state it like a fact, but your tone has a whimsical disbelief to it.

“Actually I finished them in five days,” he corrected with an incline of his head. 

You reply quickly, like the words were primed in your mind. “Then you should have come back sooner.” Under the teasing, you sound serious, looking up from the books at him, lashes fluttering against their glass encasement. 

“I would, but I’ve been pretty busy at work.” He was too. He would spend hours in the library reading if working at the BAU didn’t take up so much of his time. He loved his job of course, and he wouldn’t have it any other way, but what is someone with his talents to do but hole himself up gorging every book he can get his hands on. Spencer had a thirst for knowledge, that’s why he wanted to be in the library so much. 

“Well, that’s too bad then. What do you do for work?” Your head tilts with interest and he almost mirrors the movement, brows furrowed. 

 “I told you—I work for the FBI. Specifically, I���m an agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” He has an eidetic memory which means he can remember every word you’ve said to him and every word he’s ever said to you, so he knows he’s told you this before. Of course he knows people forget things, but they also normally remember when he tells them he’s in the FBI.

Your face falls a bit and you chew your bottom lip, brows creasing. “Oh. . . right.” You finish scanning the last book quickly, gathering a couple into a pile to carry to a cart behind you. 

Spencer’s not exactly sure what he’s done to upset you, but his fingers twitch with the itch to fix it. Unfortunately, he’s got the idea his job is what makes you so uncomfortable. It wouldn’t be the first time someone was unsettled by the fact he carried a badge and gun, or that he had the authority to arrest people. But you had joked about it last week, possibly were soothed by the fact he was a cop after his blunt and maybe eerie warning. So why were you suddenly so upset with him? 

The thought occurred to him then that  maybe it was because you didn’t completely believe the things he was saying. Not only that, but you were no longer finding whatever game you think he’s playing by telling you those things to be funny. As you carry the rest of the books back to the cart, he fidgets with his fingers, wondering if it was time to show you proof of what he’s been saying. Or did you really even care? Maybe he was wrong and you would be even more frightened by him presenting you with his badge. Was it odd to flash his FBI credentials at his librarian? That was all you were after all. He didn’t even know your name.

You were back to clicking at the computer when you glanced at him. “They’re all checked in.”

Spencer froze as you pulled him out of his thoughts, his hands locking in the joints before dropping to his sides into fists. That was your cue for him to leave. “Right, thank you.” He went to walk away, but his feet were stuck. “. . .thank you, um, I just realized I don’t know your name.”

You didn’t have to tell him, you could have brushed it off. You were just the librarian and one didn’t need to know the librarian's name, but you looked back at him again, eyes studying his face. Then, you murmured your name so softly he almost leaned in to hear it louder. Soundlessly, he let your name ghost over his lips.

He used it as he thanked you one last time, certainly overkill but it seemed like the only correct way to exit. Although he only got a few feet before he heard you call his name.

“Spencer, wait!” You didn’t yell, he’s never heard you yell, but your voice was the loudest he’s ever heard it. You always spoke in a whisper or a hushed tone, but your voice was nearly normal when you called him back. The urgency of it had him back in front of you in just two strides.

You dipped beneath the counter and when you came back up you placed a basket on it. “When I used to go on picnics to read in the park, I used this basket. Well, I haven’t gone in a long time actually, but I thought maybe you could use it for all the books you check out,” you were bashful, tilting your head down and only sparingly meeting his eyes. Spencer was in shock, all he could think about was how this was one of the nicest things someone’s ever done for him. You gave him whiplash with how quickly you seemed to forgive whatever trespass he committed against you. He wondered even if he exaggerated the interaction in his head. 

The basket was woven, made from wicker, and had two handles at the top. It was rectangular in shape, pretty deep, and large for a picnic basket, he thought, big enough for fruits, pastries, sandwiches, and maybe more. It was a very nice basket, and the thought that you were giving it to him made his heart ache the most. You’d considered him, truly sat down and thought about him and then decided you were going to gift him a solution to his awkward problem. Not often did people solve his problems, it was always the other way around.

“Wow,” his finger grazed the side, considering the cost such a nice piece must be. “Are you sure? I really couldn’t take your basket it’s—”

“I don’t use it anymore,” you interrupted him for the first time. He realized that you never cut him off, you had always listened to him. “You can have it. . .” Your face was kind, then suddenly dropped into a panic. “Only if you want it of course! You don’t have to take it. I guess it’s kind of silly, carrying a picnic basket in a library. . .” You started to pick your nails, not meeting his eyes.

“I don’t think it’s silly,” he assured you quickly, leaning just a bit closer so he could catch your eyes again. “Thank you so much. Now I don’t have to worry about falling down the stairs or taking two trips to my car.” 

Your smile returned with a breathy chuckle. “Yeah, you kind of made me nervous going down the stairs like that with all those books. You don’t strike me as very. . . coordinated.”

“Ouch,” Spencer said, though he smiled back at you. You’d read him there, he was not very coordinated at all. Knowing physics was one thing, existing smoothly and with grace on the physical plane was another. 

“Sorry,” you shrugged half heartedly.

“No, you’re right. Thank you for the basket and uh, I’ll be back,” he waved you goodbye as he walked toward the stairs and you fluttered your fingers back at him. 

Spencer took exactly 52 minutes and 34 seconds adding books to his new basket. He got a few stares and side glances as he toted it around, mainly from a group of teenagers huddled at a miniature table and chair set in the children’s section. They snickered as they peeked up from their circle at him, but it wasn’t anything Spencer wasn’t used to. All his life people had laughed at him for a variety of reasons—he was too scrawny, too small, too bumbling, too nerdy—the list was miles long. All he could do was grow thicker skin, and he had. So he didn’t let it bother him as he wandered the library, adding books to his basket. 

No, the reason Spencer took so long to pick books was because each time he slipped one into a wicker embrace, he thought of you. He blinked and saw your face like a phantom burned into his retinas. The way the corners of your mouth twisted in your smile when you were so excited to give him the basket flashed and faded in his vision. Sometimes he cursed his eidetic memory because he’d memorized your face in its entirety with all its most miniscule details and peculiarities—and he didn’t even mean to. He would find himself staring into the empty space in the basket and have to drag his brain clawing back into reality.

His watch had ticked past 12 when he made his way back down the stairs to the main floor, lugging his basket in his right hand. It was heavy, weighed by two textbooks and eight other decently thick books, but the woven willow held strong. 

At the landing he could see across the library that you were already checking someone out. He meant to add himself to the queue, but pivoted to a lounge chair between two bookcases just as he got close enough to hear your voice. Immediately he felt wrong, a churning disgust with himself in the pit of his stomach. It was weird, wasn’t it? To watch you from afar just to gauge your behavior? But he had to know, it burdened his brain to wonder if you were just so saccharine it spilled out to everyone around you or if particularly you poured your sugar onto him.

You didn’t see him duck between the shelves to the lounge chair, not in any way that he could tell. With a tranquil neutral face you scanned the book that the college girl at the counter placed in front of you. The interaction was done in comfortable silence, even when you finished the transaction and she said her thank yous, you merely mumbled a “you’re welcome.”

It was different from how you interacted with him, he realized. You were much more playful and chatty with him, but he wasn’t sure what exactly inspired it in you. You were clearly shy, maybe anxious, but in some moments it faded when you talked to him. He didn’t think he said anything particularly special, but thinking you saw something in him that made you so comfortable, so cheerful, made his stomach flip in a way he couldn’t understand.

The next man in the queue placed his book on the counter. He was the only other person waiting. You asked him absent-mindedly for his library card. He was older than you and Spencer, mid to late 40s if Spencer had to guess, but it gave him an idea about how you interacted with men as well. Which was just as bland as your interaction with the college girl before you. Spencer had a fleeting thought that maybe—just maybe—you liked him. Why else would you be so inclined to laugh with him? To be so shy sometimes you couldn’t meet his eyes? He’d read books, watched movies, and he knew the signs. He was just not used to spotting them in women interacting with him.

He cleared his throat as if to shake off the idea. It was vain, and in all likelihood an arrogant over analysis of the little interaction he’s had with you. He was about to get up and put himself in line behind the man when he heard his lurid voice croak out.

“How about you give me a smile, pretty?”

Spencer froze in place, white knuckle grip engraving the grooves of the entwined handle into his palm. Something like anger flared in his chest. It grew hotter as he saw the way you bowed your head even further from the man's sight, pulling your cardigan closer around your body.

“Um, yeah, could I just get your library card?” You squirmed under his leering gaze, lips faintly curling into the most awkward half-smile you could muster. 

Despite the way you clearly showed you were in duress, the man leaned closer over the counter. “My name’s Todd.” He slid his book across the counter to you like that tidbit of information helped any. “I’ll take this book and your number, baby.” Spencer’s jaw clenched.

His body tingled with the readiness to step in, to tell this Todd fucker to leave you be because obviously you weren’t interested. But his mind, the logical side of him, stopped him because Spencer also respected you and your autonomy. He was not an expert on women, but he knew quite a few strong women in the BAU who would be offended if he stepped in to defend them when they were capable of doing it themselves. He definitely didn’t want to offend you if you were able to brush off Todd on your own.

The uncomfortable smile dropped to a grimace. “If I could get your library card. . .” Your hand hesitantly reached for the book only for Todd to grasp your wrist in a tight hand.

“Stop asking for the damn card,” his voice dropped into a growl. “Baby, I’m just trying to talk to you.”

Your arm fought to pull your hand back behind the counter, but Todd’s grip tightened and pulled back to keep you close. “Sir!” Your voice pitched higher, eyes widening almost too big for their frames. “Sir, please let go—”

Todd huffed, face screwing up in frustration. “Why’re you being so difficult?”

“Sir, you’re hurting her and you need to let go now.” Spencer practically flew over to the front desk. It was his instincts as an FBI agent kicking in. The need to de-escalate and protect was driving him. This man was now hurting you and he was not going to allow it to go any further.

Todd’s scowl looked Spencer up and down, assessing whether or not he could take him. He must have come to the conclusion Spencer was not a threat because he puffed up his chest and continued gripping your wrist. However, he was so distracted by Spencer, you were able to yank your arm away, rubbing at your wrist with your free hand. Todd shot you a similar glare before leveling his even angrier gaze back on Spencer.

“We’re just having a conversation here, asshole. So why don’t you get back to your books,” Todd barked at him so loud they had now attracted all the eyes in the library. But Spencer was only looking over at yours—your creased brow and the watery worry the glass highlighted. 

“Spencer, it’s—” You didn’t get to finish as Todd whirled his head between you and Spencer. 

“Spencer? No fucking way this wimp is your boyfriend.” Behind the rage, Todd looked almost smug.

But Spencer wasn’t. He hit his own boiling point and was passed asking politely. He pulled his credentials from his pocket and flipped them open in Todd’s face. “No, I’m the FBI agent who is going to arrest you for harassment, assault, and public disturbance if you don’t get out of this library right now.”

Todd’s head reeled back at the badge in his face, eyes squinting between the lettering and Spencer’s face. Realization of how much shit he was in passed briefly over Todd’s face before reverting to his glower. He must not have wanted trouble with the FBI though, because he started taking steps backwards toward the exit. But he couldn’t leave with a completely bruised ego.

“Whatever man. If you want the uppity bitch so bad you can have her!” Todd slammed open and closed the door as he made his grand exit. The entire library watched it, listening to him as he got his last dig in and fleeing before Spencer could make him eat his words. He didn’t have his cuffs or gun on him, but he’d dealt with enough unsubs to know he didn’t need them to handle Todd. 

When all the eyes slowly went back to their business, sure that Todd wasn’t coming back into the library, Spencer’s gaze returned to you. Your eyes were dinner plates, mouth agape, still clutching your wrist.

Spencer frowned, whispering your name. “Are you okay?”

“You’re an FBI agent. . .” The words slipped out of you in one shocked exhale. His brows furrowed. He just rescued you from an arrogant asshole and that was what you were stuck on, something he’d told you several times.

“Yes? But I told you—” 

“You were serious?” Your head bobbed forward in disbelief. So you really hadn’t been believing what he was saying. 

“Of course, why would I lie about that?” Spencer was confused and deep down a little hurt. It was such an odd thing to lie about to a stranger, he didn’t understand why you thought he wasn’t truthful. 

“I–I don’t know,” your eyes bounced around in a panic. “I thought you were just trying to impress me. I mean—you don’t really look like an FBI agent you’re. . . young? I don’t know, I thought you were flirting with me so I—” Your hand clasped over your mouth. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, sir—agent—”

“Spencer.”

“What?”

“Call me Spencer,” he gave you a tight lipped smile, a near look of pity on his face. Your complete panic reassured him you were just as embarrassed over the miscommunication as he was. “Technically it would be Doctor, since I have three PhDs—but you can just call me Spencer.”

“But—But I didn’t. . . you were being serious the whole time and I. . .” You stuttered, shaking your head in confusion. “I was so unprofessional. . .”

Spencer chuckled, unable to hold it back. “Unprofessional? Just because I’m an FBI doesn’t mean I can’t like to talk to people. And I like talking to you, you don’t have to be embarrassed about it.” His disappointment dissipated quickly. Your shyness and embarrassment was so genuine and charming he couldn’t find the space to be upset with you beside all his amusement. 

You crossed your arms, somehow becoming even more bashful. “You’re sure it's okay?”

“Of course it's okay.” Spencer grinned.

A small sigh of relief breezed past your lips. “Okay. . . I should—I should definitely apologize for not believing you.” You meet his eyes then with such profound remorse. “Because I am really sorry. It’s just. . . your accomplishments seemed so amazing they were kind of hard to believe, especially for someone so young.”

It was Spencer’s turn to become bashful. His head ducked and he laughed quietly. “I guess they can be hard to believe. Especially when you aren’t meeting me at work. I just thought maybe all the books helped prove it.”

You let out a shaky laugh, eyes wandering back down to the countertop. “I kinda thought that was also to impress me. I didn’t really think you were reading all of them.”

“Well. . . I do.” He shrugged, figuring you had to believe him now. As you smiled at him, he realized he left his basket and books back at the chair. “Speaking of reading, I’ll be right back.”

You eyed him as he retrieved the basket and set it on the counter in front of you along with his library card. “Oh, were you sitting over there?” You looked curious. Certainly you hadn’t seen him sitting there today or anytime before.

Spencer coughed into his fist. “Um, just for a second.” He moved on quickly, removing the books from the basket. “Thank you for this again, by the way, it’s so much easier to carry all the books.”

You hummed, eyebrows jumping up. “Yeah. . . I’m having trouble believing I really gave an FBI agent a picnic basket to carry books in.” You started swiping the books over the barcode scanner, adding them back into the basket once they appeared on the computer screen next to you.

He cracked a half smile. “I think you watch too many movies. We’re not as serious as you think we are.” Hotch’s face flashed in his eyes and he thought maybe they were pretty serious, but not off duty. Hotch could also be serious enough for the whole team sometimes, so maybe he wasn’t a very good example. “And I like the basket. It was nice of you to think about me.”

Your eyes caught on his for a moment, glazed over in thought, so deep you bumped the basket as you went to set the book you held into it. It snapped you back into reality and you watched your hand as you tucked away the book, clearing your throat. “You’re sure it’s not weird?”

Spencer’s head tilted to the left, considering you. He didn’t know what he could do to pull you back from this rut of self-consciousness. He was starting to regret ever pulling out his badge because now you seem standoffish in a way you never were with him before. He wanted to go back to when you laughed and smiled at him and didn’t find him intimidating. “Of course it’s not,” he paused a moment, wetting his lips. “And this isn’t weird either, y’know? Me being in the FBI? I’m still Spencer.”

You looked back at him again, eyes searching his face. “I know that. I’m. . .” You stared at him a second longer, taking in a deep breath and releasing it with a smile. “I’m letting it sink in.” You continued scanning the books quietly, not meeting Spencer’s eyes as he absentmindedly picked at a loose string in his pocket.

His thumb brushed against his FBI credentials and the encounter just before this revelation came flooding back. He glanced over at the double doors as if to make sure Todd had not come back, though Spencer already knew he didn’t. 

“Are you okay?” You met his eyes, brows pulled together. “About before—with that guy?”

“Oh.” You shrugged, rolling your wrist unconsciously. “Yeah, I’m fine. We get one of them every now and again. Normally they’re pretty harmless.” A glimmer of realization passed over your face. “Um, thank you! I should have said that before. Not everyone would have done that.”

Spencer shook his head, waving off your thanks. “Of course. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.” He was again reminded of the fact he was not a woman, and even though his job was to put away serial killers—monsters, creeps, pervs—he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be in your shoes. You shook it off well, but he didn’t doubt you were scared in the moment. Probably wondering how far he would take it, whether your reaction was appropriate, if your employer would be angry at you. He was just glad he was there to step in.

Slowly, you finished scanning all the books, tucking them neatly into the basket in an organized order he thoroughly appreciated. Heaviest books sat at the bottom and lighter books were stacked on top of them. You paused, flipping through the last book in your hand, a biography of Max Born, a German-British physicist. 

“So. . . you really do read 20,000 words per minute?” You had a cheeky grin as you peeked up at him from beneath those frames, and suddenly you were back. Spencer smiled.

“Yup. I also have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

You giggled, nodding along. “Right. Well then I guess this isn’t even enough books for you.” A finger waved over at the basket.

“It depends on work, actually. I’m usually busy, but I often have to travel too and then I become really busy so I don’t have time to read,” he explained. When he did sit down to read, he could get through one to three books, depending on their volume. “But yeah, ten books in a week is kind of light.”

You tapped the book in your hand with your thumbs, thinking. “Okay.” Suddenly you dropped the book into the basket, dipping below the desk to set another book in front of him. Examining it, he realized by its orange and yellow coloring it was the same book you had been reading the last time he was in the library. It was The Poetry of Pablo Neruda and from the look of its creased spine and faded orange cover, it was well loved. “You should read this too then.”

Spencer turned the book over in his hands, looking at you with a twisted face of confusion. “But the check out limit is ten books?”

You shook your head, gesturing for him to add it to the basket. “It’s not a library book,” when he still looked puzzled, you continued. “It’s my book. You can borrow it from me.”

Your kindness and generosity was both shocking and overwhelming. Spencer wasn’t sure how he was to thank you for being so gracious to him. He could only think of one thing. So he quickly fumbled his wallet up onto the countertop. “You have to let me give you something for this—”

“Spencer,” as you said his name, your hand covered his as he dug for bills to give you. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He shook his head, bewildered. Not only was your kindness startling, but so was the feeling of your hand on his. He had to stop his body from flinching at the contact. He was mostly uncomfortable at the thought of people touching him, but your palm was warm, soft, and offered the most comfort he’d felt in a while. “The basket and the book? It’s too much. I mean. . . you’re too nice.”

Your lips spread into a bright smile, flashing him your teeth. “Just bring me back your analysis. I’d love to hear what an IQ of 187 can cook up. Deal?”

Spencer laughed, ducking his head as he nodded in agreement. “Deal.”

When the laughter faded and his head came back up, he looked at you for a while longer, just feeling the paperback cover underneath his fingertips. You met his eyes just for a few moments, twiddling your own fingers. “So um, see you next Sunday?” You asked. He dared to see hope in your eyes.

“See you next Sunday,” Spencer agreed again. He hesitated putting the book in his new basket then finally left the front desk, waving you goodbye as he did. He watched over his shoulder you return his wave as he exited through the double doors. 

Spencer walked back to his car practically swinging the basket, so in his head he didn’t even realize he still had a smile on his face. He set The Poetry of Pablo Neruda aside as he disinfected his books and wondered what he would do the rest of his day off. What he was sure of, deep in his chest, was that he was excited for next Sunday. 

-

Part Two

[toruro]

— ✧ back to december

a part of flower me with love ... an hhu unit x flowers collection !

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), fluff, angst (resolved!), best friends to strangers to lovers

description: it's been four months and twenty-two days since you've last talked to mingyu, however your mother still thinks you two are friends. you don't have the heart to tell her what really happened, and now you think it's time for you to move on. (un?)fortunately for you though, mingyu seems to have other plans.

inspired by back to december by taylor swift!

tags: miscommunication, unrequited love (not fr though), big dick mingyu, sex in a car >_<, riding, fingering, pet names (angel, pretty), creampie :3

w/c: 4.3k

a/n: happy birthday @gyuswhore!!! this fic is for em but if not em and ur reading it i hope u enjoy too. this is like 2/3 plot and 1/3 smut if anyone cares

Normality is bliss.

That’s what you used to tell yourself. That’s what you used to believe.

Normality was bright mornings, crisp air, slow walking down the main street, inhaling the ambrosial scent of freshly roasted coffee beans, and slipping under the fairy lights that hang over the door. It was the warm sound of the overhead bell ringing, permeating laughter in the cafe from all customers, and daisies in a pot by the entrance.

Normality was Mingyu. His bright laugh as you approach the counter, sweet voice as he playfully asks you what drink you’d like, to which you roll your eyes and respond with, “You already know, don’t you?” It was the chuckle he would let out, the wink he flashed at you, murmuring the words, “It’s on the house” (because with Mingyu, it was always on the house), the thanks you give him before stepping back.

Normality was the latte he handed you, rough yet ginger fingers brushing over your palm as he warned you, “Careful, it’s hot,” and the giggle you let out when you stepped back and asked how his morning was going. It was Mingyu telling you nothing special happened yet. It was Mingyu suggesting that you two hang out at the field after he’s done with work. It was you grinning and agreeing in an instant, but only under the condition that he picks you up after your class.

Normality was bliss until four months and twenty-two days ago.

Now, normality hurts like a bitch.

Your mother glances at you from the corner of her vision as you rummage through the fridge. “What’re you looking for?”

“Some bread,” you murmur. “Was really craving a tomato sandwich … Damn, we’re seriously out of white bread?” you ask, giving up with a sigh as you close the door and face her.

She shrugs. “If it’s not in the fridge then I guess so. We’re low on produce too actually … I’d be surprised if you find tomatoes in there too,” she says. You purse your lip, shuffling through the different rows of cabinets to find something to throw together to take for lunch as your mother continues to speak. “You think you could stop by the grocery store after class today and pick up some stuff?”

“Yeah sure,” you reply casually.

“Ah, I wish Mingyu still stopped by with the groceries,” your mother says, and the sudden mention of his name has you halting your movements as you reach for a croissant, before you inhale deeply and go back to doing your own thing.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, clearing your throat after the word comes out horsley.

“You know why he stopped doing that?”

You try not to think about how you still haven’t told your mother that you and Mingyu don’t talk anymore.

“Uhh, I guess uni’s been getting to be a lot of work,” you tell her. “We’re both taking way harder classes so, uh, I guess he doesn’t have the time.”

“Hmm, yeah makes sense. You’re always swamped up in that room of yours ‘cause of work too … haven’t seen you two hang out in a while actually.”

You chew on your lip, staring down at your little bag for lunch and the croissant that sits inside. You wonder if you’ll even have the appetite to eat anything today after this conversation.

“We’re just busy. It’s harder to talk now.” It’s not entirely a lie. Grabbing the bag and picking up your backpack, you turn to face your mother who’s scrolling on her phone. “I’m gonna go now. My first class is starting soon.”

Now, normality is huffing as you get into your car, wishing you had a coffee next to you, but being too full of cowardice to head over to the cafe.

(“Go to a different cafe!” is what common sense would tell you, but common sense doesn’t listen to a love that has been betrayed. No other latte tastes the same, but you know that’s only because no other latte has been made by Mingyu.)

You pick up groceries on the way home.

Now, normality is staring at the daisies that are on display as you walk through the front doors of the store and reminiscing. It’s wondering what once was, and what could have been, if you decided to keep your silly feelings to yourself.

Normality is regretting. Regretting ever opening your mouth and telling Mingyu four months and twenty-two days ago that you loved him, and that you had loved him for not one, not two, not five, but ten damn years, because that was when you two met, and you always loved Kim Mingyu, but you should have known that not once did he love you back. Not how you would’ve wanted anyways.

Normality is wondering. Wondering if Mingyu would still be dropping off groceries if you hadn’t told him that you loved him, if he hadn’t told you he didn’t know what to tell you. Wondering if he thinks of you now. Wondering if he has any regrets. Wondering if he’s okay, but you lost the chance to know the answer to that question four months and twenty-two days ago. Wondering if—

Tomatoes. You need to buy the tomatoes, and the bread, some green beans, spinach, bell pepper, and more cheese, milk, maybe some butter, and—what was it that your mother told you to get? Oh, some strawberries.

You need to get all of these things, but there were no daisies on the list, so how did a bouquet full of them end up in your cart? You tell yourself you picked them up because they’re on sale, but you know the real reason is because you miss Mingyu.

Directing your attention back to the list you were sent on your phone, you hum lowly to yourself as you push your cart through the aisles. Checking items off your notes app, you exist with just yourself, your tomatoes, and fresh daisies as you try and finish these groceries before it gets too late into the evening.

Staring at your screen, you almost don’t notice that the dairy aisle isn’t empty until you bump into someone. “Sorry,” you mutter quickly, “I—” The words get caught in your throat when you see just exactly who you’ve hit.

Averting your gaze quickly, you wonder if Mingyu will respond, but you choose to scurry away quickly instead, because as cowardly as it sounds, you’re not sure if you’re ready to hear his voice again.

You’re not sure why your heart beats so fast when you escape into another aisle. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t read the look on his face for the brief second that your eyes met.

(Ten years of being best friends and you somehow don’t know what he’s thinking. Can four months and twenty-two days really change a person that much? Or did you never know Kim Mingyu in the first place?)

When you get home, your mother asks you where you got the daisies from. You tell her Mingyu gave them to you, because you want to convince her that you two are still best friends, and maybe—just maybe—you’re trying to convince yourself of it too.

You decide to buy a latte five days later. Mingyu never worked the evening shifts, so you’re confident you’ll get one of the other’s as the barista if you walk in past 6pm. Seokmin’s always nice. He doesn’t make the latte’s as sweet as you like—more specifically, as sweet as Mingyu made them—but he’s kind and always cheery.

When you walk in today, the pot by the door is empty. There are no more daisies, and you wonder if this is what has become of normality.

Your eyes glaze over the familiar setting, breathing in the sweet, rusty smell of coffee, and you smile watching all the cafe-goers laugh along with each other in their seats. All is going well, and you’re telling yourself that maybe this new normal isn’t too bad. That you’ve lived with it for four months and twenty-seven days, and so you can live with it longer and—

Your heart plummets when you see who's working the register today.

Maybe you really never knew Kim Mingyu, because you swore he hated the evening shifts, but here he is with a neatly tied apron, smiling while he talks to some girl across the counter. And his toothy grin is so bright and you aren’t sure if you’re seeing things correctly because everything sound has turned to a white rush in your ears and your vision blurs because you are once again awarded the painful reminder that you are in love with Kim Mingyu.

You thought your heart broke right in two back in December, but you hear it crack in this moment and realize that this was the final blow.

There are tears in your eyes, and you don’t know how long you stand there, until you hear your name. Seokmin is calling for you, and when you look up there’s no girl at the counter and it’s just Mingyu and Seokmin staring at you.

And you wonder briefly if you should be glad that Mingyu looks concerned but you don’t have time to dwell on the fact because Seokmin calls for you again—“Hey, are you okay? You—you’re crying”—and fuck, you’ve just humiliated yourself, so with fat tears hitting the dark wood ground you turn on your heel and rush out the door.

You keep thinking and wondering and regretting and you hate it all because regret has become normality, but regret is not a bliss.

You walk down the street, and you keep walking and walking and walking until you realize you forgot where you parked the car but none of that matters because all you’re thinking about is Mingyu’s smile, and how he doesn’t smile at you anymore. And so you walk faster and cry a bit harder until you’re so far down the street you don’t even know where you are anymore but it doesn’t matter because you don’t know who you’ve become.

And there’s footsteps thudding behind you—are you going to get kidnapped now? Fuck, you’ve already had the most horrendous sequence of events that could possibly happen to you in the span of five minutes, and now it’s going to get worse? If this goddamn kidnapper could just target you any other day, then maybe you wouldn’t whip around with tearful eyes, shouting into the dark: “Please don’t kidnap me! I’ll go with you any other day but—Mingyu!?”

His tall figure is hunched over, hands over his thighs as he heaves for breath, craning his neck to look up at you. “Kidnap you? Why in the world would I kidnap you?” he asks through harsh breaths. “Fuck, you walk so fast,” he groans, finally standing up as you furiously wipe your tears away in an attempt to actually make sense of this situation.

“I—” You want to reply, but then it hits you that this is the first time Mingyu has spoken to you in four months and twenty-seven days, and the thought is dizzying. “I don’t know,” you tell him, because you really don’t know. You don’t know a damn thing.

Mingyu looks at you with a look that you, once again, can’t seem to read. “Sorry, I—I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, and anyone would be able to see through the lie but you’re hoping that Mingyu doesn’t pry any further. He doesn’t move, nor does he say anything. “You can, uh, go back now,” you add, rubbing the back of your neck as you stare at the ground. “I’m okay.”

“You—you were crying.”

Opening your mouth to protest, you realize you can’t refute him now. Not when it was so painfully obvious. You choose silence instead, hoping that your apprehension will be enough to drive him away, although it only seems to egg Mingyu on.

You don’t expect the words he blurts out after a few moments of thickness.

“You don’t know how much I wish I could go back to December and change things.”

“Please don’t lie to me Mingyu,” you tell him, and he can just hear from the way you say his name that you are desperately pleading with him. When you finally look up at him with glossy eyes, he wonders how in the world he let things get this far.

“I’m not lying, I—I wouldn’t lie about this.”

“What do you mean by this, Mingyu? What is this?” You cover your face and begin to sob, but not without gasping out words between heavy breaths. “Please don’t do this to me, not again.”

And when you uncover your face and look at him again, he’s got some bewildered look on his face, and you can’t tell what he’s going to say next.

“The girl,” Mingyu starts to say. “That’s my cousin. She was visiting me at work and—”

“It’s not about the girl, Mingyu!” And that’s a bit of a lie because some part of it is about the girl but it’s mainly about you and it’s mainly about Mingyu—mainly about the two of you.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and speaks. “Sorry, I—you’re right.”

Silence once more, before you calm your breaths and shake your head. “You should head back, Mingyu.”

“No I—wait, I just—I’m not lying. I regret everything I did in December.”

“Ming—”

“No, please listen to me. I regret not telling you how I actually felt, but I was so confused,” he tells you, repeating your name. “I was confused and fucking terrified because if things didn’t work out for some reason, then I would’ve lost my best friend but—but I was fucking stupid and lost you anyways. And you know, I wanted to reach out. I wanted to talk to you so bad but then like last week, when I saw you in the grocery store, and—daisies.”

“Daisies?” You furrow your brows.

“Daisies. You had a bouquet of them in your cart,” Mingyu tells you, taking a step forward. “And I know how much you love daisies. Your favorite flowers in the world. I saw them in your cart and thought to myself, fuck, I missed my chance, because I thought you had them for someone else and—”

“They weren’t,” you blurt out. “I-I even told my mom you got me them,” you add bashfully, “because she doesn’t know we stopped … yeah.”

There’s a silence that sits between you two, but you’re starting to realize that silence has become normality and you are no longer content with that.

“Mingyu, do you love me?”

He doesn’t hesitate to respond. “More than you love daisies.”

You laugh through your drying tears. You laugh so hard it makes you cry no longer because of pain but because of happiness, and you shake your head and throw your arms around him. “Kim Mingyu, that is a bold statement.”

“What can I say?” he grins. “I’m a bold man.”

“Where was that bold man for the past four months and twenty-seven days?” you snort.

Mingyu raises a brow. “You’ve been counting?” For a moment your expression falls but then he shakes his head and smiles. “Don’t worry—I’ve been too.”

You two are quick to head back, Mingyu begging Seokmin to hold the first alone for the weekend before taking the wheel of your car and driving you both to your favorite field of daisies.

“Are we going to have sex for the first time in your car?” Mingyu asks with a chuckle, climbing into the backseat from one end while you pile in from the other.

Giggling, you meet his lips for a kiss as soon as the door shuts behind him, arms winding around his thick neck to bring him close. “The way you said that insinuates there we’ll be having more sex after this,” you tell him with a smile before diving back into another tongue twisting kiss.

“Hell yeah,” Mingyu groans against your tongue as you adjust to situate yourself over his lap, hips pressing dangerously close to his. “Gonna fuck you every day if I can. If you can handle that,” he adds.

You roll your eyes, pulling back to help yourself out of the cardigan and shirt you’re wearing. “What makes you think I can’t handle it?”

He only flashes you a toothy grin and quickly glances down at his groin area before winking at you. “You’ll see.”

“Kim Mingyu, you are a little shit,” you conclude despite the way your tummy churns at his insinuation, throwing off your shirt as Mingyu helps you out of a bra.

“I’m not little, that’s for sure … fuck, you’ve got the prettiest tits in the world,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your torso to pull you closer so he can plant his lips on the soft flesh. His mouth is warm, tongue tracing constellations over our skin before enclosing one of your nipples with his lips.

Slowly, his tongue traces circles around the stiffened nipple, teeth grazing over it ever so gently before biting down with slight force. “Ah!” you moan out, head thrown back as your hands travel up his neck and into his hair, fisting the thick, dark locks. “‘m sensitive, ‘gyu,” you tell him, shaky-breathed as he pulls his mouth off your tits with a slip popping sound.

“Sorry,” he says with a lazy smile. “Your tits are so nice,” Mingyu murmurs, bringing a hand up to squeeze over your other breast, tweaking the nipple in one hand as your hands begin to play with the hem of his tight fit shirt. “Fuck, can’t believe we didn’t fuck earlier. You know how much time we could’ve saved?” he says, pulling away just for a moment to peel the shirt off his body, revealing his firm, thick torso.

“I wonder whose fault that is?” You roll your eyes.

Mingyu frowns in response. “Don’t remind me … angel, take off your pants. Wanna finger you.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, because in an instant your hands are at the waistband of your pants as heat rises to your cheeks upon hearing his words. Just the thought of Mingyu’s thick, longer fingers inside your aching cunt is enough for it to pulse around nothing as you throw your pants to the side and shove your panties to reveal your core.

“Atta girl,”  he murmurs under his breath as you readjust yourself over his lap so that he can have better access between your legs. Slowly, he brings one hand up to your exposed cunt, bringing his middle finger to circle around your gaping hole. “Shit, you’re so wet, angel … so wet for me.”

“Just for you ‘gyu, just for you” you gasp out when he sinks one finger in, rough pads rubbing against your warm, gummy walls.

Now Mingyu occasionally entertains the outrageous idea that he’s well composed, but he’d be a fool to deny that, even though he can turn you to mush in the palm of his hand, you also have him wrapped around your little finger.

You only have to beg him once or twice for a second finger before he’s giving in, wanting nothing more than to spoil you until you can’t even remember what you were asking for in the first place. And naturally, when you finally tell him that you’re ready for more—ready for his cock—he can’t help but grin and comply.

“You think you’re ready?” he asks, slipping his fingers out and shoving them into your mouth so you can taste yourself.

“You think I’m not?” you mumble around his fingers. You pout a little and Mingyu chuckles, leaning in to give you a wet and sloppy kiss before lifting his hips a little.

“You’ll see angel … help me take this all off,” he tells you, and you’re quick to grab at his waistband and yank his pants and boxers down at the same time.

“What are you talking ab—oh.” The words dry on your tongue when you see his cock spring out, from underneath his boxers, the thickness slapping against Mingyu’s abdomen.

It’s fat and long and veiny in all the right places, heavy balls resting at the base of it, the reddish-pink tip smeared all over with his shiny, translucent white precum.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says with yet another chuckle, watching your face as you gaze down at his cock in awe.

“I-is it gonna fit?” you ask incredulously, eyes glancing back and forth between the smirk on Mingyu’s lips and the long length of his cock. Mingyu just shrugs and smooths his hands over your hips, your stomach, and then your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Your stomach flutters, cunt growing more and more needy and wet as the seconds tick by, and the way Mingyu’s tongue flicks against yours only heightens the feeling. When he pulls away, he settles his hands over your waist and directs you right over his cock, and something in you swells with pure arousal with the next words he says.

“Don’t worry angel, I’ll make it fit. You trust me?”

“Yeah,” you breath out, steadying your position as Mingyu uses one hand to guide his heavy length so that the tip points upwards and presses right against you.

“Fuck yeah,” he hisses, and you moan as you feel him sliding against your folds in a slippery, sticky mess. “old onto me, yeah angel? If you want to stop just—”

“Say the word,” you finish for him, placing your hands on Mingyu’s bare shoulders as an attempt to steady yourself, breath hitching as his length pushes into your entrance. “Oh shit, ‘gyu!" you cry out as you begin to sink down on him.

Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes—you can’t even fathom how, even after all his prep, Mingyu still feels like he’s nearly splitting you in half.

“Fuck, pretty—you’re so fucking tight,” Mingyu grunts, helping you nearly impale yourself on his cock. “Fucking fitting inside you so well,” he praises as he bottoms out inside of you, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder as you take deep breath.

Mingyu knows he’s big—knows it’s hard to fit him inside of you—and he’s feels so fucking lucky that he has you—so willing to take all that he’s giving—sucking him in and whining for more. He waits a few moments, only listening to the way your heavy breaths start to grow lighter, until you’re whimpering a soft, “‘gyu.”

He wastes no time in jerking his hips upward, shifting inside of you and battering the inside of your soft walls. You bite down on his shoulder as you push your hips down to meet his thrusts, choking back soft sobs as you feel his cock kiss your cervix with each movement.

“Holy shit,” Mingyu grunts as you begin to bounce on his lap, his length slipping out of you halfway before being plunged right back in with a sopping mess growing on his thighs.

You whine loudly at the overwhelming pleasure that takes over your body, lifting your head up so you could look at Mingyu with your mouth agape and hair stuck all over your burning face, a sheer layer of sweat starting to envelope both your bodies.

Soon, both of your movements begin to grow erratic and sloppy, hips jamming into each other so hard you’d be surprised if you even have the ability to walk tomorrow. You now know why Mingyu was concerned about fucking every day.

“You g’na cum soon pretty? Cum all over my cock? I can feel it angel, can feel your pretty cunt squeezing me.”

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you manage to gasp out, “Yeah, ’m gonna cum—feels so good, so full, so—fuck!”

Mingyu’s cock pulses inside of you and that’s when every detail seems to be heightened to a thousand—as your orgasm racks through you, you seem to feel every curve, every vein, dragging in and out of you to such detail that it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you scream out his name.

Mingyu watches you fall apart, surrendering to bliss, and the way your hips are sporadically swiveling over his, your pussy’s wetness coating and creaming his cock has him going into a frenzy. Frantically, he begins to snap his hips faster up into you, your soft moans of overstimulation pushing him to his end faster than he can ever imagine. Watching the way he slides in and out of you is enough to have him cumming, shooting his hot, sticky load inside your warm cunt.

Riding out the last of his orgasm with soft rolls of his hips, Mingyu sighs contently at the feeling of you milking him dry, the both of you looking down at the wet, dirty mess you’ve made where the two of you connect, his cock still throbbing inside of you.

Both of you finally look up at the same time, grinning at each other, and you flop forward resting your head on his chest as he slowly combs his fingers through your hair, other hand running up and down your back.

“Why’d you start working the evening shifts?” you ask Mingyu after your breath has finally leveled. “I thought you hated those.”

“I did, but you stopped coming in the mornings, and I figured it was because of me. I hoped that maybe you would start coming in the evenings so I asked my boss to change my regular shifts just in case.”

“Oh wow, you really do love me.”

“I already told you I do! Even more than you love daisies, remember?”

[fanzou]

Hi!! could you write about sanji dating someone whose old partner only cared about their own happiness (sexually and non sexually) and she starts believing thats how a relationship is supposed to work. sanji shows her it’s not supposed to be like that

Spoil Me!

✗ Pairing: Sanji Vinsmoke x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: Sanji shows you how to be selfish for a change.

✗ Total WC: 4.4K

✗ CW: Angst, Reader being in a manipulative relationship before Sanji, SMUT, Sanji calls reader lots of pet names, Reader cries in good and bad ways (let me know if I missed any), fluff, Nami smacks your butt (my personal favorite part)

✗ A/N: I always see this prompt with other writers and got super anxious just cuz it could get angsty, but I feel that I did somewhat of a good job with this. I’m happy with it! So… enjoy, and thank you so much for this request!

It’s been 2 months since you and Sanji had established yourselves romantically.

And ever his romantic self, Sanji had always done things different with you. Everything was equal, everything was amazing. Everything felt right in his mind. You’d help him with the dishes, you’d help do his laundry, hell—sometimes he’d let you help prepare his favorite dishes with him to serve to the crew. Of course, there had been a select few things that were off limits, like paying for the bill, which he always had you covered, it was but a friendly gesture. You’d return the favor the next time you guys went out, even if he almost fought the waiter about it. (You couldn’t help yourself!)

When it was absolutely pouring and Sanji saw you hadn’t brought a coat in preparation, there was no hesitation in giving his up for you, but you insisted that you and him could both get underneath the coat like an umbrella, and he swore he fell in love with you all over again right then.

Even though he always liked the idea of being the one to take care of his partner, this was something different, something new. He’d grown to appreciate it—the equal friendship you’d shared. And when he realized his new and profound love for you, he felt unstoppable. Suddenly he wanted everything to do with you, and less to do with anything else. It was like he was attached to your hip. Wherever you went he wasn’t so far behind.

So it was a surprise to no one when you both finally decided to get together. He was ecstatic, the smile on his face couldn’t be wiped away for days.

And then it came crashing down.

exhibit A.

You’ve done this 3 nights in a row.

“My heart, you don’t have to worry about the dishes tonight, okay? I’ve already washed and dried them all, just get some rest.” You kiss his cheek and walk away, presumably to your room.

When the door closes, he finally settles back into reality, what he experienced could only be described as shock. He thought it was just a coincidence the first two nights. Maybe you just wanted to go to sleep a little earlier, but Sanji can’t help but feel a pang in his heart. Though it might seem like a boring little chore to an outsider, there was something that filled his heart about being able to do the dishes with you. It was so much more intimate. There was something about being side by side with you, talking and chatting about how your day went, asking you about the crew, if you did anything special that day. It was the little things for him, and he couldn’t relish in his favorite part of the day because of whatever reason you wanted to finish the dishes as early as possible.

You laughed into his shoulder while he told you something funny he encountered that day, “Sanji, that’s crazy!” Your laugh was so bright. Oh, how he loved to hear your sweet laugh, and this was one of those moments he could cherish it, to really savor it with no disruption.

Another time, you’d tease and get some soap on his cheek and he’d rebuttal by getting you a little wet. He giggled at your gasp and put down the wet dishes for a second and put his wet hands around your hip. You didn’t mind, never. You grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss while his hands soaked your shirt and pants. It was absolute heaven to him, and he didn’t want it any other way.

Surely he hadn’t done something wrong, that had to be impossible. Given your body language, and the way you leaned into him, everything was fine on his part.

He turns around and twists the door knob to the kitchen to follow you to your room, and makes a quick turn to your door.

He opens it and there you are, already dressed in your night gown, ready to sleep. You look exhausted, he looks at you in what you can almost make out to be a pitiful expression. “Is everything alright, sweetheart?” He walks towards you carefully and lifts your hand into his, and contrary to your tired expression, he can tell you try your utmost to keep an enthusiastic attitude, “Of course! There’s nothing to worry about. You should go to bed Sanj’.” You squeeze his hand, “I don’t want you to be tired.”

A silence falls, until you continue, “Something bothering you? Do you want me to come to bed with you? So you can sleep?”

Even though you meant well, and to anyone else it would seem thoughtful— the words you had uttered were far from reassuring to him.

exhibit B.

It was a special day, a very special one. Something that you almost didn’t want to celebrate, for whatever reason, but with the way it made Sanji so happy to be able to participate in, you couldn’t help but let him have it.

“Happy Birthday!” The crew says in unison. They just got done singing the most off beat and terrible rendition of what they thought was the happy birthday song, and you loved it. the three layer cake was decorated in the most gorgeous pink you had ever seen. Complimented by pink pearls on the sides with what you can only assume to be the most attentive detail, prepared by your one and only. It was thoughtful, almost so thoughtful that there was a guilt forming in your stomach. Nami picks some frosting off the top and swipes it onto your nose, to which you cutely stare at the middle of your face. She licks the residue off her fingers and in satisfaction, she yells to the cook, “Wow Sanji, this is amazing!” His smile softens when he hears her words. “I’m almost jealous. Where was all this for my birthday?”

“Now hurry up and cut the birthday girl a slice before I eat this entire thing!” Luffy exclaims, and everyone is quick to start arguing with him. “Don’t you dare, you idiot!” Nami yells.

You can only laugh, “My slice? That belongs to Sanji!”

The commotion comes to a silence and everyone looks at you, most of them with confused expressions or blank one’s. Sanji doesn’t understand what you meant, and neither did the others so you continue, “It’s important that he gets the first slice, I almost feel bad that I made you prepare such an amazing cake, I couldn’t possibly be the first one to eat it.”

There was an awkward silence, but he decided to break it. “Darling… it’s your cake. I made it especially for you.” You thought about it for a moment, long and hard, before a memory came back to you:

Y’know I bought this cake for you, so it’s only fair that I get the first piece. A bit selfish of you to try to hog it all up, sweetheart. A woman should always serve her man first, ever heard of that? The voice rings through your ears and you shudder.

You scratch your neck and look off to the side, “I was always taught that it was bad manners for me to take the first slice, please Sanji, would you do me the honors?” You look a little nervous to even be saying that. The swordsman answers before he or anyone else can, “Bad manners? Never heard that one before.” He says before taking a sip of his drink. It would be completely unlike Sanji to ever participate in such a tradition, it would be no exaggeration to say that it made him mildly uncomfortable. But because of the way you look at him with pleading eyes, albeit hesitantly—he cuts himself the first piece, and then the rest for everyone else.

“Alright!” Luffy licks his lips. “Let me know if anyone doesn’t finish theirs!”

“I hope you enjoy it, my love.” You say to him with your hand cupping his face. His eyes widen for a split second.

He doesn’t miss the sad look in your eyes.

exhibit C.

This was something you couldn’t do very often with being on the waters almost all of the time, and when you were on ground there was always a quick and rising conflict that had to be dealt with, so it was difficult for you and your lover to get some alone time.

And the restaurant was absolutely fabulous, violin music playing in the back, the red and orange lights that illuminated the environment were calm and not overbearing, they were dimmed just right to fit the seductive atmosphere that you and Sanji both basked in. The food was amazing as well, something he couldn’t say about many restaurants. He wasn’t crazy about this island, but he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t some great food here.

“You look beautiful, dear. This dress is absolutely perfect on you.” Sanji says simply, but it dusts a blush on your face, one that he wishes he could see, but the ambient light does good to mask it, much to his disappointment. He liked leaving you flustered. “You look handsome, but you know that.”

“I like to hear it from you. ‘Makes me feel like I’m the luckiest man alive.” He purrs. You don’t miss the way his feet glide against yours, and the hungry look he gives you.

Like he almost wants to take you then and there. And suddenly the mood changes—from romantic to sexual. There’s a certain glimmer in his eyes that you want to get familiar with, but this is a restaurant, and he had enough food. “I think we should get out of here, my love.” Not taking his gaze from yours, “I’m hungry for something else.”

“I paid the bill already, baby, so we can bounce whenever you want.” You say with an eagerness in your tone, trying to match his energy.

Sanji looks nothing like he did a second ago, he’s confused and almost surprised, sad and angry all at the same time. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. He didn’t want you to pay, that’s far from what he wanted you to do. He wanted to pay the bill, and then take you to the nearest hotel and make you feel special. “What do you mean you paid?” His tone is stern now.

“Sanj’, I was taught that it was bad manners to have a man— y’know… pay… ‘cause they do all the work. Y’know? And…” you continue, but Sanji cancels your voice out for a second. You fiddle with your fingers in your lap, you don’t want to look at him anymore, in fear of what he would say to you. You thought you had done the right thing but it probably wasn’t enough to keep him satisfied.

It’s all the same.

Honestly, he didn’t care about whatever bullshit manners anyone’s ever taught you. It’s something that he didn’t approve of. Sanji digs his hand in his hair, he’s frustrated. He loves you, he really does. But this is suuuuch a turn off. As a friend he could take you paying the bill after his countless times doing so, despite his absolute reluctance in letting you do it. It was much more different now that you were finally together. He didn’t want to be upset with you, perhaps you misunderstood, that was all. Your anxiety grew as Sanji stayed quiet, you could tell he was frustrated and you didn’t understand why. No worries, it’s nothing you hadn’t seen before.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll make you feel good tonight if you’ll let me?” You say with hopeful eyes, and his gaze finally meets yours, but you quickly realize that it’s not enough to satisfy his needs, he just looks at you with a pitiful expression like he had the other few instances you suggested something like this. “My love… if you’ll let me be honest. I don’t really care about whatever dumb manners you had to learn growing up or whoever ingrained those dumbass ideologies into your pretty little head.” He takes your hands, “You’re with me, and I want to be able to make you feel like the most special girl alive.”

You were nervous, and you felt like your nails digging into your palm were bound to break through skin soon, you chewed anxiously on your bottom lip with your brows furrowed. Should you tell him? The last couple weeks of establishing your relationship was nothing short of a fantasy, but you didn't let yourself enjoy it like you wanted to in fear of coming off as selfish.

Would you be able to get the bill this time, babe? I'm a little short.

Ahh, short again. Well I did buy you that one thing... So you can maybe think of this as your payback!

I do enough for our relationship. You can pay this time, don't be greedy.

"Sanji..." you trail off, looking down at your lap once again, "The last guy I was with, he insisted that I did every thing, but the more I'm with you the more that I realize that it was probably very unnatural, to do everything for him. And I'm sorry, but I'm just now learning that." a tear trickles down your cheek. "I'm learning to unlearn this stuff, and I need your help."

He's no longer frustrated, but he can hear his heart break in his chest.

"I'll be here with you, my love. Every step of the way."

the breakthrough

It’s pushing 90 degrees today on the Sunny, and it goes without saying; everyone and everything is hot, scorching even. On days like this, or, who was he kidding? Any day, Sanji will whip up something to help the ladies feel better about any nasty weather they’re in, and while you three bask in the sunlight in your guys’ bikini’s. He loved the sight. And he most certainly hasn’t taken his eyes off of you all day.

You sported a 2-piece, the bottom half barely covered by some unbuttoned jean shorts and because of how hot it was out, there was a thin layer of sweat that coated your form which helped accentuate every curve of your body. He watched from a distance for most of the day, almost avoiding you in fear of pouncing on you in front of everyone. You were so sexy, and he almost felt perverted like this.

He had brought over some drinks for you and Nami and Robin to help somewhat alleviate the heat you had all felt, and you three thanked him kindly, but you noticed that same glint in his eyes, the same from the night at the restaurant. A super-duper mischievous one, and you promised you’d familiarize yourself with it. You wanted so desparately get up and take him to your bedroom and let him have his fun-- but you stopped yourself, like Sanji wanted; you to enjoy your time with the girls and not to worry about anything he was making in the kitchen, what he had to clean up, that fun stuff.

“He’s practically devouring you with those eyes he’s giving you.” Robin speaks, and it leaves you a little embarrassed, laying your head down onto the beach towel, he hasn’t been so discreet about the way he was ogling you.

“Yeah well, ‘second I’m done with this drink we’ll see where it takes us.” The girls giggle, and you clink your glasses together in a silent cheers. In truth, you were nervous, but you did well to mask it. “He’s one lucky guy!” Nami says, playfully smacking your butt.

-

Finally, he has you all to himself.

You guys are making out in his bed, and he’s so hard he could die. You’re palming him through his shorts and he moans into your mouth. “Fuck, baby.” At this point your jean shorts were easily discarded onto the floor while he slowly but surely makes his way to untying your bikini. He wants it all off. And he’s not shy about it. “Finally.” He makes work of untying your top piece, and you get lost in pleasure. Your tits are even prettier than he thought, and he licks your bud before starting to suck on it. You already feel your heat pooling through your lower piece. “Th-at feels so… so good Sanji. Yes…” You’ve never felt so sensitive, but with the way Sanji was attacking your breasts all while caressing your hips, coupled with the heat, it felt like so much at one time.

Before you get lost in the absolute euphoria that is Sanji, you become aware of one fact,

This simply just isn’t about you. Those words ring like a bell in your head in the midst of the pleasure, and what kind of girlfriend would you be if you let Sanji do all the work? It was so selfish of you to let yourself think that you could relish in this. After all, it’s all about him. Only, about him.

Women aren't even meant to cum, so don't get ahead of yourself sweetheart.

Trying to push away the thought, you softly cup your hand around his cheek and bring him to your lips to assert yourself.

“This is about you.” You quickly straddle his hips and grind on top of him and he groans at that, craving the new friction you gave him. you looked sexy like this, but he wanted this to go his way this time.

In an act of complete rebuttal, Sanji flips you around and you yelp, he lets out a breathless laugh “Yeah, right.” You’re on your back now, and he spreads your legs. He keeps his eyes on your cunt, looking down at it deliciously, and finally he starts stroking it through the only fabric left on your body, up and down with his thumb. You can’t help but let out a moan, this was new, you were used to being demanded--but not in this way. “San…ji… this isn’t fair to you, ba—”

The audible groan that comes out of him was loud and proud. “So tired of hearing that come from your mouth.” He gently moved your underwear to the side and started rubbing your bare clit. “You know what I think is bad manners?” He looks at you, “When I can’t make you feel like the princess you are.” You can’t help but moan, it was obvious you weren’t used to this kind of treatment.

When he presses your thighs against your torso, you're almost shocked, you assume that he’d start to pull his pants down and have his way, but instead, his head comes down to meet your cunt face to face, he pressed kisses on your inner thighs and the sight is so very romantic, you feel so selfish, so very selfish.

It feels amazing.

When his tongue takes its first long swipe across your cunt, it felt dirty, and sooo good. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in and not long after he started his attack on your clit, lapping and sucking on it like a madman. “Sanji… yes.” You moan his name over and over coupled with some curses, and his hands grip tighter onto your thighs. His squelching and sucking, the sounds are so lewd, and you can feel his drool mixed with your juices trickle all the way down to the mattress. The image would forever be ingrained into your head, it was too perfect.

Sanji starts prodding into your cunt with one finger, and then inserts another, scissoring and fucking them into you while you shake under his wrath. “That feels so good, more, pleaseeee.” He meets your gaze and you want to melt at how he looks at you; like you were his lifeline. You feel a knot form in your stomach, something almost unfamiliar to you. You couldn't remember the last time you had an orgasm unless it was from your own fingers.

“Wanna see that pretty face when you cum on mine.” And the fact that he would be the reason behind it made him only hungrier. "I can't... Baby... It’s so much. I think I might… ohhhhh…." Your mix of Sanji's and Fuck's and Yes' only grew breathier and more demanding. "Cum on my face, please, yes." He begs you and his tongue goes faster over your clit.

When you finally bust, you can only mutter a "Mmmmmmmyesssss" with a heaving chest that followed suit, hips grinding into his tongue so you could ride out your orgasm. Your face was in absolute bliss, eyes squinted, brows furrowed, and mouth a little opened from how good it felt. It's almost too much for you, he gives your cunt a few more licks before getting up and massaging your thighs with his thumbs.

"Did that feel good, princess? I'm sorry if it was a little rough." He comes down to your lips and gives you quick kiss.

"Please fuck me Sanji. I need you inside of me, please."

Who was he to deny his princess?

He kisses your lips again while making quick work of the tied knot on his shorts, he didn't even realize how hard he was until he took his shorts off, cock still in his briefs.

Sanji takes off your stretched out underwear and throws it on the floor once and for all, and his own meet yours soon after.

His cock was very long—8 inches, if you had to guess. Curved upright, and it was beautiful, but you'd be lying if you had said that you weren't a little afraid of taking it. Luckily he catches your gaze and he smiles, "You nervous, princess?"

"Just a little bit..."

"Don't be, I'll take it slow." Had you not spilled to him that night about your failure of a previous relationship, he would've taken you for a virgin the way you trembled looking at his dick. He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain and frustration you had endured in your previous relationship, telling him about how he never let you cum and only sought to chase his own pleasure. He was willing to change that, and right now—he’d be damned if he said the way you look at it didn't turn him all the way on. "Watch it go in. Trust me my love, it's not that bad."

You listen and nod, and you watch with him. He lets it slide across your pulsing heat a couple times before he lets his head slowly slide in, he's biting his lip and lets his own line of curses come out of his mouth. When he's about half way in, another breath you didn't know you were holding lets itself out, and another inch, and another, until he's all the way inside, and saying you felt stuffed was really an understatement.

He takes the back of your knees in your hands and spreads them a little further, he starts moving slowly and you both let your sighs of pleasure out.

He starts to pick up his pace when you ask him to, not too quick but steady enough for you to feel every detail of his cock graze your insides. Because of the heat, it's not long until you're both covered in sweat.

He can't help himself, he comes down to kiss you again and talk you through the moment.

"I'm so lucky to have you."

"You're the prettiest woman I've ever met."

"You look so perfect right now."

The praises were too much and you felt insanely spoiled, something you've never felt before. The slapping of skin, the closeness you felt to him, his cock steadily coming out of you, only for it to stuff you full over and over again. The way he kept his eyes on yours, it was so much. And before you knew it, tears ran down your cheeks, ones of pleasure and joy--you couldn't tell which was which.

"I love you so much, S-Sanji."

He kisses your tears away, "I love you more, princess. You're doing amazing." Kisses your lips, but not for too long as he doesn’t want to mask your beautiful sounds.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum, baby. Are you gonna cum soon? I wanna see it again.”

Now, Sanji’s thrust are sloppier but a little more harder, you can tell he’s probably going to approach an orgasm soon along with you.

“Y-Yes. Ohhhhhh fuuuucckkk~”

“You take me so well, princess. You were made for me.” The clapping between your bodies gets louder, and you try your hardest to bury yourself into the pillow from how good it felt. “Look at me.”

You obeyed, like you always do, even though he looks disheveled; mouth covered in juices and spit, there’s beads of sweat running down his face, he really loves this moment with you.

“Tell me you love me” he says.

“I love you.” His thrusts are inconsistent now, but he’s still hitting the same spongy spot inside of you.

“Again.”

“I love you, Sanji. Ohhh, shit.”

“Again.”

“I love you so much! So, so much! I’m gonna cum again! Mhhh!”

And just like you spoke, you came all over him, it hit his chest, his balls, thighs, and all over the mattress, and he fucks some of it back into you while he follows you in reaching his own orgasm.

Before he can, he pulls out of you and releases the hot white liquid onto your stomach, stroking his dick til there was nothing left in him to give.

Completely disregarding the fact that he just came all over your stomach, he collapses onto you and joins you in almost synchronized breaths. “That was… amazing…” you managed to say. “Thank you so much.”

Sanji rolls over and pulls you onto his chest, “You deserve everything and more, that was only a fragment of how much I appreciate you, sweet thing.”

To his surprise, you get up from your position and look at him. You scan his body and come to one conclusion, “I should probably clean you up a bit.”

He wants to roll his eyes, but instead he takes your arm and yanks you down with him in the same position you were before. “If I’m gonna be dirty, I’ll be dirty with to you. But if you wanna take a bath with me, that’s a different story” once again, that mischievous undertone in his voice is something you can’t miss.

You’ve still got a long way to go, but he’ll be there with you through every step.

[psychemochanight]

Dick being neurodivergent, because why not? (Am I projecting myself onto my hyperfixation character of the moment? Absolutely).

Dick finds the weirdest possible positions to be absolutely comfortable. We already talked about how he likes to hang upside down, but besides that, he's always sitting in a strange way.

Bruce doesn't have any opinion on any of this, but sometimes wonders if Dick is trying to give himself some kind of cramp. The others just wonder if the boy has actual bones.

Bruce thought Dick couldn't be a picky eater, but he's totally wrong. Alfred taught Dick to cook because he knows that if he depended solely on food prepared by other people, the boy would starve. (Worse is when they discover that if they don't remind him, this guy won't eat at all. He just totally forgets that humans need food).

He also taught him other things for sensory issues that he doesn't want to acknowledge. (Yes, there are ways to keep his sheets soft enough, to prevent his shirts from getting lint, even cleaning the slab so it doesn't have weird textures).

Bruce always purposely gave him more work than he needed to do, otherwise he would never get the boy to concentrate. Nothing too difficult, he didn't want to overburden him yet, but seriously, even if he liked math, he would never sit down for more than 10 minutes to do his homework. Organizing his tasks didn't always work, but a deadline? It was his best strategy. Even out of ten minutes, eight were just him thinking about something else and only two to complete the job, he would complete it anyway.

(He never gives him the same task twice in a row. God knows that will never be complete. Have you seen how many jobs this man has? He can't stay in one place for more than a few months).

His thoughts also jump from one situation to another as much as he jumps on rooftops when he is on patrol. Bruce never understands his line of thinking, but it is extremely helpful in solving cases.

Despite appearing extroverted, Dick was still more of an ambivert, sometimes even seeming more introverted, he's just not that shy. His social battery runs out pretty quickly, even if he pretends it doesn't. He still needs time to himself in order to move on, and as a child his best way of pointing this out to Bruce was by hiding under tables in a dark place, or instead, climb to the highest places, farthest from people. Bruce learned that although Dick was used to the noise of people, he was used to seeing it from above, not in the middle of the crowd.

It's not that he's non-verbal, but there are still days where just talking is a no-no. As a child he had better control, but as an adult he just doesn't want to talk, and he's not going to talk.

Weighted blankets? Yes please. Noise cancelling headphones? He would love to, but he is too paranoid to completely isolate himself from his surroundings. (If his friends notice that his leg is bouncing more than usual, they assure him that they will keep watch and ask him to wear his headphones for a while, if they need to talk to him they use sign language).

He also has blackout curtains. And we all know his comfort object is a stuffed elephant, come on. (I love the fandom for this idea. Give the guy his stuffed elephant, give him Zitka.)

Yes, Dick, people have hobbies, but normal people don't change hobbies after mastering them once, much less change them every three days. No, gymnastics is no longer your hobby at this point, it's literally your life.

A special interest falls short when you spent a week without sleep to continue researching your new hyperfixation.

[earlysunshines]

once in a moon

pham hanni x fem!reader ; angst, fluff

synopsis: hanni meets the new girl and she's oddly familiar -- familiar in a way that makes her heart ache.

warnings: childhood friends to something less, more, and in between, to lovers ; basketball player reader ooo and hanni is in student gov ; angst AND pining omg ; minji a victim (bystander of idiots) always ; hyein fr plotting ; THERE'S ONLY ONE BED??? ahahaa ; making out YAY ; anything else I didn't mention ; guess what... KINDA proofread muahahaha

a/n: mmm quite long like... looong and idk how I feel ab the pacing mmm but I like this one I think yes mm hmm ≧◡≦

hanni lets hyein drag her to the girls' basketball practice, the underclassman chattering excitedly about new girl who had made the team the same day she transferred. despite acting annoyed, hanni is intrigued. according to hyein, the new girl not only makes 9 out of 10 three-pointers, but is also stunning.

“even haerin thinks she’s really pretty, and she never admits things like that, hanni.”

“wow, she must be a hot shot then,” the older girl responds sarcastically, making hyein roll her eyes.

“shut up, don’t come drooling to me when you finally meet her and she becomes the girl you’re fixated on for at least the next month.”

“okay, okay, i get it. this new girl is something special or whatever.” hanni continues to be dragged towards the basketball courts, hyein steering her away from where the guys practice and toward the bleachers in front of where the girls are. “is their practice even over?”

“haerin said they end at five, that’s in five minutes. we’re right on time!”

“i can’t believe i let a child drag me back to school after hours.”

“you were already staying after! you literally have to plan half the events, fundraisers, and whatever else you do… you were literally in mr. ahn’s class with minji and dani.”

hyein got hanni there, making hanni scoff jokingly. the younger girl sits down in the bleachers' second row, watching all the girls finish running up and down the court. once they finish, a few sit down tiredly, sweat making their faces glow in the light that seeps through the windows.

hanni already knows half the basketball team thanks to haerin, so it shouldn’t be too hard to spot this wonder of a girl. she scans the team, her eyes skimming over the players she’s familiar with until they land on a sweaty, uncovered torso and defined abs. her eyes widen – partly from shock at how someone can be built that well, but also because the girl looks oddly familiar.

as she continues to stare, trying to place where she’s seen her before, hyein nudges her. "see what i mean? she’s something else, right? she’s in your grade, you should make a move or become friends with her."

hanni nods absently, still figuring out why the girl seems so familiar. the new girl’s face comes into view as she turns to grab a water bottle, and hanni’s jaw drops.

"it can’t be," hanni whispers, more to herself than to hyein. 

hyein looks at her curiously. "you know her?"

hanni swallows hard, a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling up. "yeah, i think i do."

the younger girl grabs hanni’s wrist and starts to drag her away again, this time towards haerin, who’s talking to the familiar girl.

when hanni meets your eyes right after you glance down, both of your eyes widen at the same time, the revelation hitting the two of you just as hard. recognition floods in, bringing back memories of how you know each other.

hanni can’t believe her eyes, it’s you – l/n y/n.

–

you and hanni knew each other alright, she was the main part – one of the few people that you remembered in detail – of your childhood. if anything, she was your childhood.

both of you had known each other since second grade, which led to a strong friendship. you spent your days growing up together, laughing and playing, inseparable through the years. from recess adventures to sleepovers filled with whispered secrets and shared dreams, your whole worlds revolved around each other. you had countless inside jokes, understood each other’s moods without a word, and could communicate with just a glance. your families even joked that you were joined at the hip, and as you grew, so did the bond that seemed unbreakable.

when middle school rolled around, things got rocky – just as things always do at this age. 

you and hanni still spent most of your time together, but she was a social butterfly, making so many new friends and putting herself out there to the point that it was hard to keep up. 

of course, you wanted to be there for her, but your timid nature never really changed. you trailed along whenever she went out, feeling like her shadow as she laughed and joked with everyone else. hanni always made sure to check on you, reminding you that your presence mattered to her, that she appreciated you. yet, despite her kindness, it was draining. the constant effort to blend into the background while staying close to her took a toll on you, leaving you both comforted and exhausted.

you stopped tagging along because the only reason you ever did was to spend more time with her. it was strange, the feeling you had when you were with hanni or even thinking about her. you had never felt anything like it. 

she would smile while with her friends, and you fought back the urge to smile back. sometimes she’d rest her hand on your arm, sending a shiver through you. when she looked you dead in the eye, you would always retreat. she did things to you that weren’t explainable. they were foreign, making you uneasy and weak in the knees to the point that it all just frustrated and confused you.

your heart yearned for her, and you knew that was dangerous. she had so many other friends and people there for her; it was almost like she was growing out of you. you felt like a thorn in her side, something she needed to pick out in order to really break out of her shell. it hurt to see her laughing, smiling, and being so touchy with her new friends when it used to be just with you. you wanted it to stay as just you being the light in her life. 

the person you had known most of your life was growing into someone lovable, someone you loved more than words could explain. and what did you do? you were thirteen; what else could you do other than distance yourself and sulk? the depth of your feelings overwhelmed you, and the only way you knew how to cope was to retreat, watching from the sidelines as she blossomed without you.

you stopped tagging along, visited her house less often, and dismissed more than half her efforts to see you because every time you spent time with her, your heart ached. you saw the stars in her eyes, and it felt like you were some meteor drifting away from her, destined to lose her light.

and besides, you would soon be distant from her physically as well. it was inevitable with your dad’s new job, which promised to support you and your mom much better. the move would take you a continent away, so what was the point of getting closer? it seemed wiser to start distancing yourself now, to make ripping the bandaid off less painful. 

of course, this didn’t go unnoticed. hanni grew increasingly confused as to why you were being so distant. was it something she did? were you having trouble? what was going on with you? she wanted to talk to you about it, but you always pushed her away, no matter how hard she tried. even when she managed to get you to open up just a little, it never provided a clear answer. frustrated and hurt, she began to distance herself as well, finding it hard to connect with someone who now seemed so different. she began to spend more time with her other friends, always feeling like something had been missing with each outing.

she just wanted her y/n back, but it felt like the y/n she had known had transformed into someone so foreign that she couldn’t even tell if it was really you anymore.

before she could do anything about the rift, just wanting you back again as her friend and the person who made her heart do jumps in her chest, you had to break the news to her.

hanni remembers it all so clearly, seeing you at her doorstep for the first time in at least a month without any warning before. even with everything that had happened between the two of you, she was happy that you were there in front of her.

“y/n, hi.” a small smile immediately graces her lips, she’s relieved. she looks up at you a bit, you’ve always been taller, but with all the distance and lack of time to be around you, it seemed that you had grown a bit more than she had thought. “what are you doing here?”

your expression is stone cold, with a little hint of hurt and regret. “i’m leaving tomorrow.”

“what do you mean? on vacation or something?”

“korea, hanni. my dad got a good job there, we’re moving.”

“y/n, what are you saying? it’s only for a little while, right?” her brows crinkle, she tries to read your face, praying that this is a joke. “right?”

you don’t answer.

“y/n, how long have you– when did you find this out?”

“six months ago.” you mutter bluntly. “i just, didn’t want you to be so surprised when i wouldn’t be in school.”

her voice cracks and you almost crack too. “y/n, you’re fucking lying to me right now. are you serious? and you spent those eight months talking to me three times a month max?”

for the first time, you look her in the eye, then mumble, “i’m sorry.”

“y/n, how could you just drop this on me? we have to– when will i see you again?”

“i don’t know hanni, but you’ll get over it.” hanni is shocked by the slight tone of anger in your voice. “you have all these friends and people who admire you, why do you care so much about me? just get over it.”

“you’re fucking kidding. get over you? y/n, you think i can just do that like this?” she snaps her finger to emphasize her words. you flinch. “is this why you’ve been avoiding me? because you’re jealous that i have more friends than you? you pushed me away because i had friends?”

“you’re calling me a loser?” her wording makes you scoff. “i didn’t know you could be so fucking rude.”

“that’s not what i meant y/n,” she pauses, her expression softening. “you know what i meant, i just–”

“i do know what you mean. fuck this hanni, you’ll be rid of me anyway.” you spit, then turn around. hanni walks after you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back. “what the hell do you want?”

her eyes shine from tears starting to line her eyes, she looks at you desperately. “y/n, please don’t leave.” her grip tightens. “please, i can’t lose you.”

hanni remembers watching you gulp, seeing a split second of regret, sorrow, anger, and everything in between flash across your face. “i’m sorry.”

she recalls crying for hours on end, trying to text you apologies and heartfelt messages, begging you to see her just once more. you tried desperately to ease the amount of hurt hanni would feel throughout those eight months, but it only made it worse. the more you distanced yourself, the more she felt the sting of your absence, and your efforts to protect her heart only seemed to break it further.

–

she stares at you, frozen in place. your features are the same, just matured and even more appealing. her eyes trace the curve of your nose, the shape of your eyes, and down to your lips—the lips she used to stare at for a bit too long back when you would fall asleep in her bed years ago. it's you, there’s no doubt about it. she knows you like the back of her palm even if years have passed. 

you’re taller now, much taller, by at least eight or ten centimeters. you almost tower over her, your height a testament to the years you've spent playing basketball. the way your eyes narrow gives her that same feeling you had given her years prior. you still have that same intensity she always found endearing, and it washes over her in a wave of emotions.

“y/n,” she practically breathes out. “you’re– you’re here.”

your jaw tightens as you stare down at her, ignoring the sweat drop that falls off the end of your chin. 

there are goosebumps forming as you stare back, realizing that after years of trying to forget the face you admired the most for so much of your life—years of convincing yourself you could live normally even when thoughts of her crossed your mind—you thought you'd be fine if you ever ran into her again. you believed you had moved on, even after the big argument and the years of forcing resentment, but that's not the case.

far from it, because hanni looks even prettier than she did back then, her features more mature yet still warm and achingly familiar. her eyes are as bright as ever, still holding that wonder and curiosity despite how poorly you treated her with your sudden news and departure. 

as you meet her gaze again after all these years, you feel the world stop spinning beneath your feet. she's stunning, more beautiful than ever, and it takes your breath away.

you force yourself to stop gazing and look over to haerin, rubbing the sweat off your face and mumbling, “i have to go, my aunt expects me back.” before you pat her on the shoulder and hurry off, leaving hanni’s whole world shaken up.

haerin just nods, then looks back at the shorter girl. “what’s up with you, do you know y/n?”

“um, yeah.” hanni says simply, still watching you while you walk towards the girls locker room. you turn back to glance at her and hanni feels her heart sink. “we knew each other in middle school.”

“oh really? she used to live around here?”

hanni hums.

and she’s back now, leaving and returning with no fucking warning. 

–

you spent the rest of the evening and night (really until you fell asleep) thinking of hanni. of course she still lived in town, she was never far from your aunt anyway.

moving back to where you grew up allowed thoughts of hanni and your past to resurface. the chance of running into her wasn’t too high, or low for that matter. you lived with your aunt, just a twenty-minute bus ride from your old house—the house filled with memories you had pushed down and shoved away for the sake of your sanity.

the whole reason you moved back was because the schools here were better, and you genuinely preferred your hometown to the overwhelming city. the academic life here was better, less overwhelming, and all your favorite spots—restaurants, cafes, parks, and other places you’d wander off to back then—were conveniently located here. what made it even better was that your favorite basketball court was just a short five-minute walk from your new home, perfect for cooling down and improving your skills during practice.

you had thought moving here would be great, even if you ran into hanni, because you believed you had moved on from her. it stung a bit more now that you actually had ran into her, but at least you didn’t share any classes or lunches with her, and you hadn’t seen her in the hallways after a week at the new school. so what if you both attended the same place? things were still going your way. 

the counselor sits you down and slides you a paper. you quirk a brow looking at it. 

“what’s this?”

“miss l/n, i’m afraid they’ve messed up transferring the credits you had in korea, so we had to rearrange your classes and drop your courses for others. i apologize for the trouble, but it’s for the sole purpose of graduating.” she explains, then points to your paper. “if it makes you feel better, these classes are much easier than the ones you had previously. it’s all going to work out in the end.”

you huff as you review each change. now, you have two free periods, which is a definite plus compared to your packed schedule before. the order of your classes has completely shuffled, except for two classes—thankfully, at least those will be easy to find. on top of that, your homeroom has changed, which you don't mind at all, especially since the previous teacher had greeted you with the nastiest glare upon your arrival.

there’s nothing you can do to change it anyway, you’re just trying to graduate and get direct admission into the university downtown at the end of it all. if your schedule is changed in order for that to happen, then so be it.

“thank you.”

“the classes that changed are all upstairs, so the constants are still down on the first floor. your lunches have changed too, but you can sort that out easily with the teachers. i hope it’s not too much for you.”

you wave your hands in the air. “it’s fine, really. i’ll just get going then, thank you.”

–

it is everything but fine.

the bell had already rung, the halls were empty for the most part, and had just made your way upstairs. you find room 242 after searching for at least two minutes, your base physics class got dropped so now you’re taking advanced honors environmental sciences, unfortunately. 

after knocking twice on the door, it’s opened by a middle-aged man around two centimeters taller than you. he greets you warmly, “ah, you must be the transfer? miss l/n, is that right?”

“yes, that’s me. y/n l/n.”

“great, come on in. we’ve just started, but i can help fill you in.”

“thanks.” 

you walk in and clutch the strap of your bag with one hand. every head turns to face you, each classmate clearly intrigued by the newcomer—by you.

“ah, right. i’m mr. wei, why don’t you introduce yourself to the class?”

“oh, um.” you clear your throat, looking down at some random desk as you begin, “my name is y/n l/n, it’s nice to meet you all.”

looking up, you meet someones eyes in the second row, and of course it’s no one other than hanni pham, her eyes widened slightly. her brows furrow just barely at the sight of you and it makes you bite down on your teeth.

“alright, you take that empty seat by the window next to minji. could you raise your hand minji?”

a girl with dark hair raises her hand, seated directly behind hanni. your shoulders sink slightly, but you push down any feelings and walk over to take the seat. thankfully, there isn’t much commotion. sure, you’re new and everyone’s curious about you, but it’s just a tuesday morning and everyone has other concerns. and you? you have to focus on sitting behind her.

you set your bag down and sit next to minji, offering her a small smile before turning your attention to the board.

hanni fights the urge to glance back at you. she considers asking minji for a pen as an excuse, but hanni always has her own writing supplies and minji would likely brush off her request, making her feel foolish in front of you. she sighs softly, forcing her gaze to stay fixed on the front of the room, struggling to pay attention despite you sitting right behind her.

“did they mess up your schedule?” minji asks you quietly as mr. wei starts his lesson. “they do that with a lot of new kids.”

“oh, yeah. i wanted direct admission to the uni, ador has a lot of good programs for what i want to pursue so…”

“ohhhh,” minji nods, then picks up her pen. “yeah, a lot of the advanced honors kids are doing that, everyone here is actually.”

that means hanni falls into that. “oh, really?”

“well, most.” minji shrugs. “anyway, before he starts actually teaching; i’m minji, nice to meet you.”

“nice to meet you too.”

she smiles and slides her notebook. “we’ve had a few lessons prior, so if you need notes or anything just snap a picture.”

“thanks, i appreciate it.”

“it’s nothing, you’ll get the hang of it.”

hanni hears the whole exchange happening behind her, and she desperately wants to join in. there's nothing she wants more than to talk to you again, maybe even steal a glance at you for a little longer. it's been so long, and there are so many unanswered questions. hanni can't even tell if you're real or just a figment of her imagination. the longing to reconnect is almost overwhelming, but she hesitates, unsure of how you would react after all this time – unsure of how she’ll be talking to you again.

–

it turns out that hanni is in every single class that has changed, so ⅔’s of your classes. it was surely something to see her face everytime you had to introduce yourself to everyone in every class. however, minji and a few girls from your team had also been in each class, so it was good to know that you weren’t fully singled out.

minji makes an attempt to invite you over to sit with her at lunch, but once you see hanni at her table, you quickly make up an excuse. 

“oh sorry, the girls on the basketball team wanted to talk to me more about um, our plays…” you poke your tongue at your cheek. “but maybe another time?”

“oh that’s chill, don’t worry about it! another time is great, i’ll see you back at class then!”

you force a smile, aware of hanni's gaze following you as you walk over to where haerin, yunjin, and rei sit.

minji settles down in front of hanni, waiting for hyein and danielle to join as she pulls out her lunchbox. taking a bite of her chicken and rice, minji glances over at you before turning back to hanni. "the new girl seems pretty nice, huh?"

"i guess," hanni mumbles, chin resting on her palm with her lower lip slightly protruding.

of course, you end up in every class with hanni, and naturally, you sit next to her best friend in each one. despite the circumstances, you find yourself avoiding her just like before. it’s frustrating.

“you got something against her?” minji jokes, not expecting hanni to let out a big sigh.

“i don’t know.” she starts, watching you smile at haerin. “we knew each other in middle school, but she can barely look at me.”

minji stops chewing. “really?”

"yeah, you can still talk and be friends with her!" she catches herself and raises her hands in defense. "i think she's great, i mean, we just... drifted apart."

"aw, it happens though. you sure i can talk to her though? like, certain?"

"yeah, it's no big deal, really." hanni resents you for making her cry for four hours straight that day, but deep down, she knows you're a sweetheart. she could never hate you, and she wouldn’t do anything to prevent you from simply having a social life. "it's nothing."

"alright, whatever you say," minji says, then pulls out another bag from her backpack. "yo, i brought some bread from the bakery."

hanni's pondering is interrupted, and her eyes light up when minji holds out the small paper bag with her favorite milk bun inside. she eagerly grabs it and smiles with her teeth, causing minji to snicker and roll her eyes.

you catch the whole thing in the corner of your eye, absentmindedly smiling. 

–

“niiice one y/n!” your coach claps his hands after you land a half-court shot with ease. “alright, that’s it for the day! back and forth across the court ten times and you’re free to go. good job everyone, make sure to rest up for the game tomorrow! be here by 4:30, got it girls?”

“yes coach!” the team says in unison. 

you run a hand through your slightly damp hair before deeply inhaling. yunjin finds you and you smile tiredly at her, the two of you meet at one end of the court and start to run. by the time you’re done, you’re chuckling at how tired yunjin is as you recover.

“the hell are you laughing at?” she says in between breaths, “you’re no better than i am right now.”

she’s right, you’re both drained and beat from practice, but it really makes everything funnier than it is in the moment.

you’ve settled in well after nearly a month, getting closer with the basketball team and even branching out to meet their friends (all thanks to yunjin, who had a bit of a reputation and popularity, and an additional soft spot for you). you weren’t popular like yunjin or anything of that sort, but you were content with where you were.

minji had also started talking to you more, and the two of you had gotten pretty close, even hanging out after school before your practices. she occasionally caught you at her parents' bakery too, often mingling with you while you had a pastry in your mouth. though minji was still a bit confused about the tension between you and her best friend hanni, it didn’t trouble her too much. you kept to yourself, and really, you were a very calm, sweet person.

the next day, minji catches you in between classes. you’re grabbing something from your locker when you feel a tap on your shoulder, turning around to see her.

“game day?”

“oh, yeah.” you answer as you shuffle through your bag. “you coming?”

“i was going to go with my group.” minji’s group consisting of hanni, you take note of that. “haerin never really says anything about the games, but we love to support her. hyein also wants to watch you play.”

you giggle and close the locker door. “the underclassman?”

“yeah. don’t tell her i told you but she’s kind of a fangirl.”

“of me?”

“yeah, she thinks you’re sick.”

another laugh leaves your lips, now you’re walking over to class with minji. “well, i’m not against making another friend.”

“pftt, she’s something though.” minji jokes. “how about two friends?”

“two?”

“i think you and hanni would be good friends, you know?” you almost freeze on the spot. “she told me you guys drifted in middle school, maybe you guys can mingle again, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

your whole body tenses as you walk through the classroom door. you spot hanni sitting next to yunjin, her eyes meeting yours the moment you enter. you quickly look back at minji, shrugging and trying your best to play off your hesitation.

"doesn't sound bad at all, why not?" you say, forcing a casual tone into your voice.

little did you know, minji had something up her sleeve. while you set your bag down and pull out your history notes, she walks over to hanni. minji looks at hanni intensely, then glances at you. ever since she heard about the vague fallout between you and hanni, she had been itching to know more—and possibly rekindle the old spark. it wasn't like anything bad had happened between you two (she assumes); people grow apart, but they can also find their way back to each other.

you glance at hanni before class starts, not expecting her to already be looking at you. as soon as you two make eye contact, hanni turns away, picking up her pencil. 

– 

minji manages to convince—more like drag—hanni out of her house and into her car. haerin has a basketball game against the rival school, so hanni is basically obligated to go. to be fair, why would she complain about seeing haerin run up and down the court and smugly smile when their team scored a point? it was fun to see haerin in her zone, and hanni always enjoyed the excitement of the games.

but this time it was different, with you in the starting lineup and being the new star on the court. 

she sat on the uppermost level of the bleachers with hyein and minji beside her. hyein had linked her arm with hers, cheering on for haerin. 

hanni’s eyes are glued to you most of the time. it’s not her fault you had control of the ball so often, scoring here and there. she couldn’t keep her eyes off you even when you weren’t actively playing; you could be watching the ball or assessing the situation while your teammates defended, and hanni would still be looking at you. while you had been on the sidelines temporarily, she noticed how the sweat made your skin glisten, and hanni wondered what had happened over the four years for you to develop such toned arms and athletic shoulders. you looked strong and confident, a far cry from who she remembered.

“hanni, you know the ball is on the other side of the court, right?” hyein nudges the older girl, then looks in the direction that hanni is looking. “seems like someone caught your eye.”

hanni shoves hyein over. “stop that.” she scoffs. you take your eyes away from yunjin after she scores, then your eyes meet hanni’s, and hanni pauses in place momentarily before looking over to yunjin.

you narrow your eyes at her, biting the inside of your lip.

–

the phone in your pocket rings, you fish it out to see minji’s contact name on your screen.

“hey?”

“where are you?”

“oh, locker room.”

“meet me at the front of the school after! i have a cookie and friends.”

you laugh before answering, “right, thanks minji. give me five.”

after rinsing your face with some cold water and dabbing off the sweat on your neck, you strip out of your jersey and throw a hoodie over. yunjin slaps you on the back on the way out and you wince, shooting her a glare – which only makes her laugh more.

you walk out the entrance and look around for your friend, eyes lighting up when you see her with her own respective group. haerin is already tehre, when she spots you she waves. when hanni sees you though, she looks hesitant. 

“hi.” you greet. “did you guys enjoy the game?”

“you won! how could we not?” an unfamiliar girl says. the girl looks younger, but she’s taller than the rest of the bunch. “i’m hyein by the way!”

“ohh hyein, minji mentioned you.” you giggle before adding, “didn’t know you’d be towering her.”

the bunch laughs – hanni smiles at the remark – and so do you.

“anyway, i’d love to stay and talk but i need to be home soon.”

danielle tilts her head and asks, “where are your keys?”

“oh, i’m walking.”

“dude,” minji says in disbelief. “after running up and down the court that much? no way man. i can give you a ride.”

waving your hands in the air frantically, you assure, “no, no. it’s fine, i mean, more cardio for me.”

“you’re getting in my car bro.”

and now you find yourself in minji’s car after she convinced hyein—the only person close to her height—to drag you along. you couldn’t argue with hyein; she’s young, and the little pout she gave you was enough to make you relent.

that’s how you end up in the backseat with hanni.

hyein called shotgun, and you weren’t going to argue, especially since minji dropping you off was a last-minute decision. but if you had known you’d be bundled up with hanni alone in the backseat (danielle decided to tag along with haerin, avoiding the tension), you would’ve found a way to avoid this whole situation. to make matters worse, some random, very heavy box was taking up a seat, leaving you and hanni with no space in between. just your luck.

the youngest grabs minji’s phone and plays some random pop song, eagerly humming along. 

“yo, type in your address.” minji tilts down the mirror above and looks at you through it, raising a brow. hyein hands you the phone and you manage to brush arms with hanni as you reach over. 

hyein turns up the volume after you hand her the phone back. your place is less than ten minutes away, but it feels ten minutes too long.

you try your best to cope with the tension in the air, and hanni does too. she’s angled toward the window—away from you—and you’re sitting in the middle seat, trying to focus on the road. minji turns a little too aggressively at one point, causing you to lean against hanni, making you both blush equally.

“sorry,” you mumble.

“it’s fine,” hanni replies, her voice still as sweet as you remember. it's still as soft and reassuring when she quietly adds, “minji’s not the best at driving sometimes.”

as soon as she says that, minji’s back to driving straight ahead. you can’t help but laugh softly, unable to fight it. “it’s not too bad,” you say, feeling a little of the tension ease with the shared moment of humor.

neither of you share anything else after that, the silence squeezing you two. 

when minji reaches your place and parks in front of it, hanni has to get out so you can. as you step out, you make eye contact with her, and something electric runs up your spine. you watch her climb back into the car, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before she settles back into her seat. 

minji rolls down the drivers side window. “oh yeah, here’s your cookie.” she says, “see you next week! enjoy your weekend!”

“you too!” you respond, then peek at hyein. “nice meeting you hyeinie, can’t wait to see you around.”

her mouth opens before she smiles at you, teeth and all. “yeah, me too!”

even hanni rolls down her window, catching you by surprise. your eyes widen just a little when you see her looking at you, smiling. 

“good game y/n, you’re really good.”

you inhale, then breathe out your response, “thanks.” and purse your lips into a smile.

minji waves once more before driving away, and you head inside. no one is home yet, so you quickly drop your bag off in your room, head to the bathroom to clean yourself up after being sweaty for over two hours, and finally flop onto your bed once everything is done. the encounter with hanni replays in your mind, the tension and awkwardness still lingering as you try to relax and unwind.

hanni lingers in your mind, she’s always been in the back of it anyway.

you don't know if it's even possible to become friends with her again. it's what you really want, but can you even achieve that? you're avoiding her left and right, failing to hold eye contact or maintain a conversation with her for more than three seconds. yet, the fact that she had initiated the interaction this time, even adding something lighthearted in the car, sparks something within you. every small moment between you two, however insignificant it seems, ignites a huge feeling inside of you. it’s a confusing mix of hope and fear, leaving you wondering if there's a chance to mend what was broken. it’s all your fault anyway -- basically.

–

“alright everyone, please settle down.” mr. wei says. he claps his hands and looks as happy as ever. “i have an important announcement! so as you know, we a big project this year. i’m going to introduce it today and give you a small rundown. oh! and by the way, this project is worth half your grade.”

as you sigh, you catch hanni in the corner of your eye, putting her head down in defeat and muttering a small “fuck.” in response to the news. 

“i’m going to give you all the rubric and your assigned partners.”

“what?” jake groans, “c’mon, why can’t we choose? what if my partner doesn’t do shit?”

“that’s something coming from you mr. sim.” sim jaehyun has a known record for paying people to do his work, plus, he’s not the brightest. the only thing he’s known for is being nice on the eyes and a great point guard. “i’m assigning the partners because you all are graduating this year. in the future, most of the time you won’t have a choice. got it?”

the class falls silent, you close your eyes and sigh again. 

just get it over with.

“now, you’ll be given time to discuss various topics regarding environmental science. our main concern is human impacts on our environment, got it? please discuss positive and negative impacts that you can analyze and present to the class, alright! there’s a special part of this project that i know you will all look forward to, so please keep this in the back of your mind for the next month.”

minji nudges you and you hum. she leans closer to you, eyes still on the board, then mumbles, “i really hope i don’t get jake.”

“same. with districts coming up i’d rather die than have him as my partner. his brain isn’t working unless it’s basketball that’s mentioned, he’ll yap my ear off.”

your seatmate chuckles and looks at jake, then back at you. “and you’re not any better?”

“basketball is just a hobby, this chemistry grade is worth more my time and effort, don’t be ridiculous.”

she rolls her eyes and refocuses her attention on mr. wei, who has finally found the paper listing each pair. anxiety churns in your stomach as you wait for him to read the names. you really hope you're not paired with jake—or any of his friends. the thought of working with them sounds worse than nails scratching a chalkboard.

“right, jaehyun, since you’re so eager to know who you’re with, let’s start with you.” mr. wei looks up from the paper, narrowing his eyes at the cocky guy. “you’ll be paired with soobin.”

you catch danielle and hanni in front of you locking eyes, fighting back snickers. the two cover their mouths with their hands and exchange a knowing conversation through countless gestures, shoves, and widening of eyes. their silent communication is filled with amusement, and you don’t know enough about soobin to understand what they’re so entertained by.

“right, minji and danielle.” he adds, you hear a relieved sigh from minji as soon as he says it. danielle turns around and smiles brightly, grabbing minji’s hands and shaking them excitedly. 

“yunjin and kazuha… minjeong and jimin… anton and sungchan…”

he goes down the list, pausing to put on his reading glasses to read the last few pairs, until he gets to the final one.

“and finally, hanni and y/n.”

you freeze, your breath catching in your throat as mr. wei sets the paper down. of course this would happen; you managed to transfer to the same school as hanni and now you're partnered with her on the biggest project of the year.

hanni turns her head to look at you, her expression unreadable. you lock eyes for a moment, the awkwardness hanging thick in the air, before you shift your gaze out the window, your palm pressing against your cheek as you rest your head on it.

mr. wei claps his hands and smiles brightly. “right! so,” he begins, looking around the room. most of the class seems content with their pairings, some look like the world has just ended, and others are simply dealing with it —you fall into this last group. “as you can tell, you’ve all been partnered with someone of the same gender. this isn’t an accident, you’ll find out eventually. our school has partnered with a research facility and set up a little trip in the spring—in a few months—in order to contribute to these studies and potentially find solutions to current environmental problems. i’d like you all to keep in contact with your partners and brainstorm until next tuesday. please come back to me with a valid research topic. now, let’s start our lesson, shall we?”

hanni can’t lie; she’s thrilled to be put in this nerve-racking situation. sure, she’s a little very terrified of you, considering your whole demeanor and the past you share, but she’s been wanting to at least have something normal again, maybe make the tension lighter. there’s still a part of her that resents you, but you were both fourteen then—things have changed.

(for the better, hanni hopes.)

–

you feel a tap on your shoulder as you walk down the hallway. your mind is blank until you take your earbuds out, and then you turn around, tilt your head down, and meet hanni.

“hi.”

“hey.”

the two of you stand there awkwardly, she scratches her pointer finger with her thumb (just like how she did when you two were younger, it seems her habits weren’t grown out of), then hands you her phone.

(“youll scratch your skin off,” you quickly pull her hand towards you, slapping it lightly. “stop that”

“hey! i’m nervous…”

“you’ll be fine hanni.” you assure her, putting your hands on her shoulders. “i know you’ll be, trust me.” she feels your hands cup both cheeks, squishing them subtly.

you’re both twelve, hanni has a microphone in one hand, and her other is restrained by yours. the two of you had practiced for two weeks to prepare for this moment. almost every day, you spent an hour or two in hanni’s room, which was littered with posters of her favorite bands and paintings you had made for her. you would strum your guitar while hanni sang with that pretty voice of hers, the two of you lost in the melody of 'baby I'm yours' by the artic monkeys without a worry about the talent show coming up

but hanni is worrying now, more than you somehow and she’s always been so out there.

your thumbs graze her skin and you look at her with a strange softness in her eyes. hanni still doesn’t know if it was because she was nervous, but in that moment, she felt her cheeks burning. 

“your voice is so pretty and you’re pretty and amazing and i know everyone in the crowd would love it and love you! i could listen to you all day hanni, when they hear you they’ll be so amazed.”

“what if i mess up? what if i ruin it for the both of us and-”

you pinch her cheeks and shake your head. “stop. hanni pham i know you, you’ll do great. if you mess up, i’ll mess up with you, alright?”

she purses her lips together, nervousness evident in her eyes. you smile reassuringly at her, and her tension eases as she sees your grin turn toothy. the warmth in your expression gives her the confidence she needs.

“ugh, fine! let’s get it over with… my mom said she’ll drive us to get ice cream after anyway…”

“okay! c’mon, everyone is waiting for hanni pham and her guitarist.”

“you mean my lovely y/n?” twelve year old you didn’t know why that made you so giddy. you rolled your eyes at her and held her hand on the way to the stage.

the memory replays vividly in your mind. everyone's expressions were etched with amazement after hearing hanni sing the first line of the song you two practiced, their smiles widening as hanni dragged you up to sing along with her. this simple act unlocks a core memory: the two of you going home with a special trophy and celebrating with ice cream.

for some reason, you also remember the innocent little kiss on the cheek she gave you before you were dropped off too.)

you’re shaken out of thought after hanni begins again, “i just thought that, um, since we’re partners… you know– we should keep contact.” she swallows lightly before asking, “could i get your number?”

“oh, yeah.” hanni watches you silently type your number in, then send a text to yourself. the buzz (heard only because of how dead silent it is in the hall) is faint, but indicates that you haven’t faked her out. “i’ll text you later, i have practice soon.”

“oh yeah, practice, yeah. basketball.” you force yourself not to smile as she responds. “yes, you have fun with that, sorry, yeah. i’ll text you? i can look over some stuff and you can branch off.”

“that sounds good, my practice ends at four today, in case you needed to know.”

“yeah, okay, yup.” she says, “i’ll get going, sorry.”

“don’t be,” you assure. she watches you open your mouth, hesitate, then add quietly, “ever.”

—

[xxx xxx xx09] 4:30pm hi! this is hanni are you free tomorrow?  i searched up some topics but wanted to go over it with you if you don’t mind of course!

[y/n] 5:02pm sorry, i stayed after to help clean and practice i can meet you after practice?  i should be completely done no later than four

[hanni] 5:03pm that’s fine!

hanni cringes as she hits send. she thinks to herself: too much energy? 

[hanni]  5:03pm minji’s bakery isn’t too far, it has good ambience and wifi is that okay?

[y/n] 5:28pm that’s fine

[hanni] 5:28pm great! see you then

embarrassingly enough, hanni continues to check her phone for a response, but each time she gets the same thing: nothing. it isn’t until three hours pass that she finally sees you’ve left her on read.

she huffs.

she feels stupid, considering you left her in the dust, then came back with no warning, and yet, all of that doesn’t sting as much as getting left on read. it’s silly, hanni thinks, but you couldn’t have sent something back? or at least reacted to her message? she groans in frustration and tries to focus on reviewing her chemistry notes, but thoughts of you keep interrupting her concentration.

–

you find hanni seated near the window, her back facing you, and you spot a latte beside her laptop. the kim's bakery isn’t too busy right now, thankfully, so it’s not a hassle or long wait to buy a small americano before you meet up with her.

hanni’s head perks up cutely when you sit down in front of her.

“oh, you’re here. you should’ve texted me.”

“sorry.” you begin to unpack your bags. “i got lost in thought on the way.” you don’t mention what you had been thinking of exactly, because that will only strengthen the elephant in the room.

“right, yeah, okay.” another moment of silence passes before hanni lights up. “ah! the ideas, yeah, hold on. i shared a doc with you, i hope you got it.”

“i was looking at it on the way here.”

“mhm, so what do you think?”

“i think a lot of them are pretty popular, i feel like jake and his little group will end up doing something about trash in the environment since it’s simple. i think the water quality one is good though, what about you?”

hanni nods. “i mean yeah, i was pushing the trash ones to the side. i wanted to do endangered species and really just anything regarding animals, but danielle and minji were already looking at it as soon as they had the chance. my second option was the water quality.”

“we’re on the same track, that’s good.” you sip on your coffee. “let’s research water quality then? maybe in the area for now.”

“yeah, that’s good.”

nothing else is said, nothing else needs to be said before you two get to work. there’s the occasional glance when one doesn’t think the other is looking, the small sips of coffee, and all of it is so distracting – each breath, unspoken words, really just whatever hangs in between the two of you. she lets you press a key one more time before breathing in.

“how have you been?”

you almost choke. “what?”

“how have… you been…?” her brows turn up as she clarifies.

“good.”

“that’s good.”

“yeah.”

“yeah.”

hanni wants to pack up her bag, throw it at the window so the glass shatters, and escape the feeling that overwhelms her. “how was korea?”

you poke the inside of your bottom lip. “exhausting… i missed it here.”

“yeah, it’s great here.”

“yeah.”

“what about you?” you ask, and for some reason, you don’t really want to know the answer. you’re unsure if your heart can take it.

“me?” she tilts her head, then coughs. “oh, yeah, me. um, i’ve been you know… alright.”

i’m so sorry. you want to say it, but can’t bring yourself to. there’s a grudge you’re holding, you can’t seem to loosen up and let go. plus, you don’t trust yourself not to break down. 

“is student government any fun?”

“sometimes, that’s until we have to do real stuff.”

“didn’t you… sign yourself up?”

“it’s to make my record look good, i was never good at sports like you.” she sighs as she leans against her chair. “i don’t even have the height for it.”

you fail to hold back a snicker, hanni pushes out her bottom lip in response.

(“y/n it’s too high.”

“that doesn’t matter, i’m like, three centimeters taller! just steady the ball and push out your hand.”

hanni sighs, staring at you like you’re an idiot. in this memory, you're both twelve, all battered up from running around all day. somehow, you’ve convinced her to spend time with you at the school’s courts.

the hoops are short enough for primary school kids, but still too tall for hanni. you’d tease her for not catching up to the others as you grew, and she’d respond with a punch to your shoulder each time. despite your relentless teasing, she’d always spend time with you on the court because she loved you more than her other friends. honestly, there was no other friend that compared to you at the time. 

you step behind her and fix her form, adjusting her hands with yours. she gets all nervous and almost elbows you, trying to cover it by yelling at you, “that tickles!” but what really tickled – or at least made her feel all weird and tingly in a similar way – was the turn in her stomach.)

“i mean, you’ve grown.”

“you’ve grown. how tall are you even?”

“i don’t know… like, more than 170? something tall.”

“don’t boast.” hanni groans.

you chuckle. “don’t be jealous?”

the bickering is the same, but bittersweet. you two laugh until it’s a little too strange to laugh, the feeling in the air shifts again, you wish it’d stay at a constant of something nearing neutral or comfortable for more than a minute.

looking out the window, you spot an elderly couple strolling past. you begin again, “it’s good to see you again.”

“is it?” hanni questions, tone laced with genuine surprise and a small hint of disbelief, some bitterness too. “it’s a surprise to see you here.”

“school life there wasn’t too nice to me.”

“oh.” 

“yeah.” you take another sip of your coffee. “at least they had good coffee near the campus.”

hanni just giggles, what else can she do? her smile dies down as she continues to get to work, and you look at her through your lashes before doing the same.

little do you know, minji observes the conversation from afar. she stands behind the espresso machine, watching you and hanni smile at each other and laugh occasionally. unaware of the tension, your past, or any details, she notices a strange chemistry between you two. the more minji watches, even as you both study, the more she considers that you might look better as something more than just friends.

maybe that’s why you two had been so timid and distant, minji predicts that it’s a mutual attraction that has you two nervous to talk to each other. 

minji conjures up little scenarios and possibilities in her head. maybe you had seen hanni for the first time and been so starstruck by her; after all, many people have fallen for her sweet and outgoing nature, not to mention she’s prettier than most. or perhaps hanni had been in awe after seeing you on the court, and minji couldn’t deny that you were easy on the eyes (even minji caught herself looking at you sometimes, but out of admiration). plus, you had a mysterious quality at times—a trait that a lot of people find alluring. both you and hanni have people turning heads, so it wouldn’t be impossible.

hyein would love the sound of this. one corner of her lips turn up as she thinks about the underclassman.

maybe it was love at first (after a long time) sight, or maybe you had a meet-ugly? the possibilities swirl in minji’s mind as she observes the interactions between you and hanni, wondering about the nature of your relationship and what could potentially blossom between you two. 

she shakes her head, hiding behind the espresso machine again when she notices you packing up. you send hanni a sweet smile and start to walk in minji’s direction. the older girl pretends to be busy cleaning something up, and thankfully, you don’t notice her presence as you leave.

[senior citizens and the caretaker]

[minji] hanni

[hanni] ??? i can see you from where i’m at

[minji] you were with y/n? surprising

[hanni]  we started researching topics we literally?? are in the same class?? w the same project?? and r partners??

[minji] right… and giggling and laughing and…  yk

[hanni]  are you crazy u r so delusional

[hyein] hanni and y/n??? proof or it didn’t happen

[minji] attachment: 1 image

hanni’s eyes widen when she sees a picture of her and you (zoomed in and botched quaility) smiling at each other. the shorter girl walks over to where minji is immediately, pointing to her screen and confusingly (angrily) asking, 

“the hell is this?”

“that’s what im trying to figure out.”

“bro, you’re so weird.” hanni sighs, then looks at the picture again. you have a cute smile – she tries not to think of that too much. “what the hell would y/n think if she sees this?”

“we’re friends too, you know?”

“yeah but–” her phone buzzes in her hand, cutting her off.

[haerin] study date?

[hanni]  ABSOLUTELYnot. stop DONT ENCOURAGE HER?? kim minji lock your doors.

[danielle] oh wow, she has a pretty smile!

i know. hanni wants to agree, but minji wouldn’t let it go.

[hanni] you guys r so weird omfg anyway, how is your project going?

[hyein] dont change the topic hanni… wuuaahh im so jealous…

[hanni] girl shut up you're like twelve and don’t be

[hyein] you said you already knew her before?  what happened

[hanni] it’s not important gtg

minji looks up from her phone. “and where are you going?”

“home,” hanni mutters, making the older smirk. “away from you at least, and i have to redo my notes for mr. ahn."

“right.”

“i hope your bread molds.” hanni says on the way out, closing the door. seconds later she opens it again, peeking her head through. “i was kidding, by the way. bring me the sweet milk bread tomorrow? thanks love you!”

the older girl rolls her eyes and laughs, going back to her phone to stare at the picture.

minji has nothing better to do, so maybe pushing you two closer wouldn’t be too bad. 

–

you’re so close to dozing off in history, head almost falling off your palm. the class being a requirement is so pointless in your opinion, considering you go over slideshows, take a test, and write a few short responses. rinse and repeat for the whole year – is it really that significant?

with your upcoming game clouding your mind, plus the draining practices, it only makes you drowsier. your eyes feel heavy, your blinking gets slower, and you’re just so done with the class in general.

minji leans her shoulder against you, nudging you awake.

“h-huh…” you mumble sleepily, making the older laugh. “what?” she nudges you again, making you groan. “man what the fuck do you want?” 

“you and hanni.” she raises her brows, unfazed by the anger in your tone. “how’s the project coming along?”

“oh,” you rub your eyes. “we’ve got some good ideas. i think we’re meeting again later.”

“do you like being around her?” you face minji and now she’s looking at you weirdly. “i saw you guys getting along.”

“did you? were you spying on us?” you ask teasingly, nudging her back. “weirdo… but i mean yeah shes… chill.”

“you guys look good together.” 

the way it sounds coming from minji makes you freeze. “what?” you croaked, the response coming out dry and scratchy. you dismiss her with your hand and try to conceal the weird warmth in your cheeks. “what even… where did that even come from.”

“i was taking some orders and saw you two, looks like you both enjoyed each others company.”

“fucking spy…”

yeah, enjoyed running around the big problem you two had in between, that’s for sure. minji’s just oblivious, she hadn’t even heard the conversation or anything, so it shouldn’t get to you. but still, it does. hanni’s pretty, like out-of-this-world-flowers-and-sunlight pretty, and you’ve never really looked at yourself so highly. hanni’s always been out of your league since you first felt tingly around her at the ripe age of ten, it’s really a miracle that she even considered befriending you prior to that.

you set your head on your folded arms and close your eyes. “she’s nice, maybe we’ll be good friends or something. don’t get it mixed up.”

–

hanni watches intently, her eyes glued to how you handle the ball. you dribble past two of your teammates with ease, your movements fluid and precise. for a fleeting moment, your features light up with hope as you take the shot, but they quickly shift into frustration when the ball misses the hoop. she notices you bite the inside of your cheek, a sign of your evident irritation, as you curse softly at yourself.

“take your time y/n, don’t rush.” the coach suggests, you look at him for a split second, your features don’t shift a bit. he claps his hands, then nods. “right, practice over, you know the drill.”

hanni senses disappointment from your expression. she notices the way your jaw tightens, how your fingers ball into a tight fist before you crack them one by one – like how you did years ago. you stare at the ground for at least five seconds, lost in thought, before heading over to yunjin to run with her. as you start moving, the tension in your posture seems to wash away.

she waits until you finish, stealing glances at you from the bleachers. her eyes frequently drift away from her laptop to admire you. hanni has no clue what happened while you were away, but it’s frustrating that you manage to catch her eye so easily. your mannerisms are effortlessly attractive, your poise commanding, and everything about you seems to draw her in.

when you’re finished and headed back to change, she waits outside the gym for you. in a few minutes, you’re met with her, but with stress apparent in your expression.

“y/n, hey.”

“what do you want?” hanni is taken aback by the slight aggression. you cough, biting down on your teeth and retrying. “i– i mean, hi, hey. what’s up?”

“oh, i just worked on the project a bit more, you know, since mr. wei gave us more information i got us a head start. everything is on the doc, yeah.”

“did you stay after to tell me this? you could’ve gone home.”

“i had to do things for student gov, i only waited a few minutes for you, it’s nothing. i watched the end of your practice.”

“you what?” you look offended, almost. turning to the side, you poke the inside of your cheek, then look back at her. “why the hell did you waste your time doing that?”

“hey i– i just, i don’t know? why are you so angry?”

you have no clue why. maybe it’s the lack of sleep and sore feeling in every muscle in your body. you’ve been so tense the past week because of districts, and plus, your performance has been worse. the fact that hanni had seen you perform so poorly makes your blood boil a bit, but you shouldn't be mad. still, you are. shaking your head, you grip your bag tighter, knuckles whitening with the tension. the frustration of your last missed shot and fumbled passes throughout the last few practices sits heavy on your shoulders, mingling with your high standards and (self-imposed) pressure to excel. 

hanni’s presence, witnessing your every mistake, feels like salt in a wound, intensifying your disappointment and how pissed you are in the moment.

she looks at you, narrowing her eyes. “are you okay?”

“it’s nothing.”

“don’t lie in my face,” her tone almost makes you flinch. she steps closer. “what’s going on?”

“hanni, it’s nothing. don’t worry, it’s not your problem so don’t try to make it yours.” you say through gritted teeth.

(you open the door to see hanni, tilting your head when you do. she’s standing there with a frown, looking at you with worry.

“what’s going on?”

“why are you here?”

“you haven’t texted in the past week, and you’ve been avoiding me.”

“it’s nothing.”

“don’t lie to me, we’ve known each other since first grade.”

“why do you even care? just let me be.”

hanni’s noticed your distance, and she’s tried so hard to pry, but you’ve always been able to dodge her like a bullet. you barely have a smile on your face these days. after school, instead of hanging out with her friend group or even with her alone, you’re always at the court or cooped up studying at home. it frustrates her because she knows you don’t even need to study; eighth grade material is a breeze for you. 

the distance is palpable, a barrier she can’t seem to break through no matter how hard she tries. she misses the easy laughter, the way you used to light up around her, your stupid jokes; she misses you. now, it’s like you’ve built an invisible wall, and she can’t find a way to scale it.

“y/n, i miss you. please talk to me, we’ve always talked about things.”

you can’t possibly talk to her, not when you know what you feel is stupid, almost humiliating. how could you spill the fact that you’re jealous she’s spending less time with you, that she’s getting too pretty and lovely? you can't just admit that maybe being friends with her is becoming too hard. there are so many things you want to do with her, so many things you want to tell her that can’t be put into words. you can’t share that your heart beats faster whenever she’s near, or that she’s been on your mind so often lately. you just can’t. 

“i can’t. look, i’m busy. i’ll see you tomorrow.”)

she scoffs, looking at you almost angrily. “we’re not fourteen anymore. stop carrying so much – you’ll explode.”

“you don’t know shit.” the words slip out, taking both you and hanni by surprise. you can’t stand to see her after saying it, so you give her a brief glance, letting her catch the regret in your features before exhaling sharply. “i– i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“y/n–” she breathes out, her voice softer now, almost pleading.

you look down as you walk away, too repentant to look back. each step feels heavier, burdened by the weight of the words you wish you could take back. you wish you could take back a lot, rewind time and restart. you’re vulnerable, some things fail to change.

–

“so, what happened? your text made me shiver.” danielle says, sitting down on the floor next to minji.

their whole friend group has grouped up at hanni’s place, specifically her bedroom because of a sudden “my house. please. quick.” text. they all gather around her, worried and curious.

hanni leans her head against her bed frame, sighing. “y/n and i kind of had an argument. well, she scolded me, that’s more like how it went down.”

“so she got mad at you? what happened? you guys aren’t even that close, so what’s this all about.”

taking a deep breathe in, hanni lets many suppressed memories fade into vision. “i told you guys i knew her before this, like years ago.” she watches her friends nod. “well, we kind of… i mean, we fell off. i don’t know the full reason why, but we had this huge thing.” she pauses her story, reaching under her bed and pulling out an old shoebox.

opening it, hanni shows the group tucked away memories. there are polaroids and childhood pictures, letters, photobooth strips, and knick knacks the two of you had crafted.

haerin gazes at the contents, then pulls out a polaroid and looks at it intensely.

“anyways,” hanni continues, “i mean, i tried to push it aside because i guess it was a while ago and it’s just an elephant in the room between just the two of us. plus, i figured we had changed and grown, but–” hanni groans defeatedly. “i don’t know! i feel like i shouldn’t let it get to me but–”

“okay but what exactly happened?” minji butts in, lost in hanni’s ramble. “details. she scolded you, you two know each other, what else?”

“where do i even start…”

hanni takes a deep breath, her eyes shimmering with the intensity of the memories she is about to share. she begins, her voice steady but laced with nostalgia. "you know, we met when we were just kids. i was new and had zero friends. she was alone too, and i asked her to join me on the monkey bars. i remember being in awe when she made it all the way across and back at the age of six. and since then we were basically inseparable."

her friends listen closely, captivated by the story. hanni’s tone becomes softer as she continues. "y/n was the sweetest person i knew. she was a special friend, you know? i mean we were only kids but i still thought of her a lot even after the whole… thing. i mean, we spent so much time together, just the two of us. i remember those niche, core memories, like when the sun would set and we’d find ourselves tanned and still at the playground. everyday i woke up excited to spend time with her, i can basically remember her being there most of my childhood."

she pauses, her eyes glazing over as she recalls the fondness of those days. "there are so many moments filled with her that defined myself growing up. i feel stupid, really, looking back on childhood memories. like, i should let go right? but every memory made me really happy, and i wonder what it would’ve been like if we had stayed strong until now. i think about it so much now that she’s back, and i thought i had gotten over it. i’m so mature now but it’s like… like a thorn i can’t take out my skin. maybe a scar that can’t heal, that’s a better metaphor.”

her expression shifts, the weight of the past evident on her face. "but then things changed. as we grew older, especially in middle school, y/n started to become distant. i branched out, made new friends, and she... she grew bitter about i i guess? what we had was so different. we were literally attached by the hip and then barely spoke.”

the emotion in hanni’s voice is palpable, her gestures and facial expressions reflecting the heaviness of her heart. she looks at her friends, all listening closely and looking hurt themselves. "we just fell apart. she changed in a way that didn’t benefit either of us. it was like she built a wall around herself, and i couldn’t knock it down.”

her friends sit in silence, absorbing the depth of the story. hanni’s explanation is more than just words; it’s a raw, emotional journey through the ups and downs of a friendship that had meant everything to her, even if it had ended at fourteen.

“and before i knew it she just left.” she adds, thumb scratching her skin. danielle puts a hand over her mouth, looking the most hurt out of the group. “she came to my house one day and said she’d fucking? leave? the day after? a continent away? it’s like she didn’t care about what we had between us.”

“oh hanni, that’s terrible.”

“i know.” hanni picks up a photobooth slip, her shoulders drooping. “i know.”

“how did you put up with her coming back?” hyein questions. hanni sets the picture down, looking down at it from where she sits, still. “as soon as i saw her it’s like everything that had happened to me washed away. i was so fucking out of it – seeing her. she’s so different, like, it caught me off guard and i just pushed aside everything.” hanni starts to blush suddenly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “this is so stupid but, i had a little stupid crush on her growing up too, and then seeing her after so long it just… it’s so stupid. she’s striking now, i can’t believe it. but she was so eager to avoid me when she first saw me so i just… let it be.”

minji hums to herself, thinking deeply on the topic. she scratches her chin as she stares at the photos on the ground. “you guys can’t avoid it forever.”

“i know.” hanni repeats. “i kind of… ugh. we got in this argument because she was being so aggressive and mean all of a sudden, i mentioned that she shouldn’t bottle up things like when she was thirteen. i guess the guilt crashed down on her, she just left. she looked really regretful, i don’t know. i just, i don’t want the tension to be worse than it already is.”

minji raises her brows at hanni. “i think you deserve an apology and explanation.”

“i agree.” danielle chimes in, crossing her arms and pouting. “she’s really nice and sweet, but hanni, hearing what she did? my gosh… that’s just…”

“she probably had her reasons though, it had to be really important for our friendship to literally fall apart. i’m considering that our past kind of has something to do with how she just went all out on me earlier.”

haerin sits quietly, deep in thought about hanni, you, and the situation. she’s always been the quiet one, so she’s really observant and caring nature. plus, she’s usually right. she’s seen hanni’s growing attention and concern for you, but she realizes the timing is off. you’re so caught up in your own head, weighed down by the pressure of districts, and it’s affecting your performance. the stress is becoming a vicious cycle, making you play worse, which only adds to your anxiety. haerin clicks her tongue softly as she pieces it all together, understanding the root of the issue.

“i don’t know why she did that to you when you guys were younger.” haerin begins. the rest of the group looks at her in surprise, but starts to listen immediately. “but i think she was so heated earlier because of districts. coach has been pushing her, she’s been more tired. i don’t think she meant it, she’s a good person.”

“oh.” hanni responds blankly, starting to piece it together.

haerin nods. “she hasn’t really been talking to anyone, and she seems tired these days.” 

minji nods along too. “she almost fell asleep in history in her hand, she could just be cranky.”

“i mean maybe–” hanni pauses when her phone on the floor lights up. she glances at the contact and gasps, picking it up. “it’s her.”

“what?”

“what does it say?” hyein asks, quickling leaning against the older girl in order to see the messages. 

[y/n] sorry can we meet in ten? at kims i want to clear things, if that’s okay i don’t want my project partner upset i’ll be waiting. if you don’t come i understand

hanni sighs, staring at the words on her screen like they’re going to pop out the phone and slap her in the face (or something like that). she shows the rest of the group the texts and haerin is the first to respond.

“go see her.”

“you sure? i don’t know she just–”

“hanni,” haerin looks at her seriously. “don’t make the space in between you two larger.”

the group looks at haerin, considering she’s the second youngest, it’s really impressive that her words hold so much power and weight. hanni hesitates before nodding, starting to type.

–

[hanni] where are you?

your phone buzzes in your hand immediately and you rush to check it, feeling relief wash over when you notice that it’s hanni, and especially when you realize she’s here.

[y/n] i’m not inside side of the building near the lamppost

[hanni] k

you wince at the singular letter, she’s going to rip your head off.

hanni emerges from the side, spotting you tapping your foot up and down and fidgeting with your fingers. she feels like a wet rag being slowly wrung out, her anger dissipating as she takes in your appearance. you’re wrapped in a hoodie and sweatpants, both sitting loosely on you, and your nose is tinted red from the chill of the night. she feels a pang of empathy, her frustration melting away in the face of your vulnerability.

she steps towards you, you perk your head up and sigh out in relief.

“you’re here.”

“i am.” 

the two of you stare at each other for a moment, the silence heavy with unspoken words. you use the time to compose yourself, clearing your deafening thoughts. hanni, meanwhile, takes in your features, admiring silently with an unreadable expression on her face.

“i wanted to clear some things and apologize. not just for earlier but, just– you know.”

“is that so?”

“let’s take a walk, please?”

the two of you would always take walks to clear the air back then, strolling to the outskirts of the neighborhood and back so you could drop one of the other off. those late-night walks used to be calm and relieving, filled with laughter and conversations under the streetlights. now, as you stand before each other, the thought of it feels nerve-racking and unpredictable, weighed down by the tension and the distance that has grown between you. 

you sigh, handing her a small bag and the drink in your hand. “i also bought you some things, it’s the least i could do.”

she takes the bag from your hand and looks inside, fighting back a smile when she notices her favorite milk bread inside. plus, the latte you had given her looks like her favorite. 

“okay, where are we headed?”

“you’ll see.”

the two of you walk in silence, your rehearsed words stuck in your throat, twisting on your tongue whenever they try to escape. you don't look at her, focusing instead on the ground beneath your feet. hanni doesn't push you, occupied with taking bites and sips from what you bought her.

every now and then, she turns her head toward you. sometimes, she catches you already glancing at her, quickly looking away when your eyes meet. other times, she sees you staring intently at the ground, lost in your thoughts. 

putting your hands in your pockets, you start to speak, “i’m the reason there’s a rift between us.”

“yeah, i know.”

“and there’s a reason, but it’s really… personal, kind of. i want to tell you but i really can’t.”

“is that so?”

“yeah.” you breathe out, kicking a rock as you do. “but the most i can do is apologize – for everything I can apologize about. i was so petty back then, i was jealous of your friends sometimes and there were a few times you had already made plans with them and i asked you to hang and you couldn’t and it’s so stupid and i was immature and mad at you for that and i just–”

“y/n, take it slow.”

you gulp. “okay.” she watches you stare ahead and sigh. “i was so insecure and stupid, it resulted in me losing the person i loved most. the worst part of all is that you fought to keep me in your life, and i just ripped myself off you like a leech stuck to your skin. i always cared about you, i still do, there’s nothing that could change that. i knew my actions were hurting you and instead of fixing myself, i thought i knew what was best for you at fourteen and it just… i just hurt you even more.”

“you did.”

“i know.” you look at her for the first time, meeting her eyes dead on. she notices the upturn in your brows, the sincerity in your gaze and tone. “and i’m sorry. i’m sorry for everything. i just want us to be friends again. i can’t lose you now that you’re back in my life. i just want what we had again.”

the words hang in the air, heavy with emotion. your heart races as you wait for her response, hoping she feels the same.

both of your legs continue to carry you down the sidewalk until hanni stops. you halt a step after her, noticing the contemplation on her face. she glances down at her empty bag, then back up at you. her eyes scan your face with an intensity that makes your heart race. you look like a lost puppy, and though it tugs at her heart, she tries to push those feelings aside for now.

your words had pierced her heart, the pain sharp and immediate, but there was also a sense of relief. knowing you don’t hate her makes a difference. she feels the same way; despite the hurt you’ve caused, the effort you’re making to repair your bond warms her heart.

“i do too. i wanted to talk to you again, normally, for a while now.”

“me too, but i hurt you and i felt so guilty.”

“well,” hanni reaches for your hand, holding it in hers. “let’s try our best to start over then, as friends.”

“thank you. i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, the bread and latte made up for like, thirty percent of it.”

she’s always been good at lifting the mood. you laugh and she giggles too. “if i buy you a few more, would that raise it?”

“how many more and how often are we talking?”

–

the next two weeks go well, thankfully. 

you and hanni spend a significant amount of time together working on the project, each of you discovering different methods to measure water quality with limited equipment and determining the most efficient techniques. as you collaborate, you catch up on lost time, though you remain cautious about revealing too much about yourself. your time abroad had been… rough, and you prefer to keep those memories to yourself. however, it's comforting to hear about hanni's accomplishments, knowing she's built a strong reputation and has many friends that are just as wonderful as her.

often, you find yourself smiling at hanni like you used to. it's a familiar yet unsettling feeling, but you refuse to let it consume you. despite how her smile, voice, and energy make you blush and feel a pleasant dizziness, you resist falling into the same spiral from years ago. you push those feelings down, determined to stay focused on the present. you can’t let it ruin the two of you again. 

besides, you've just had your first district game and it went well. the scores were tight, but you and your team pulled through, boosting your confidence. you can’t let hanni pham's charm shake you up; there's too much on your shoulders—the project, your teammates, and your relationship with her. balancing all of this feels like walking a tightrope, but you’re determined not to fall (again).

hanni, on the other hand, feels like she’s on cloud nine.

you’re still as adorable as ever, still considerate. after your study sessions and project work days, you always offer to spend time with hanni at different bakeries so she can try various breads. you jokingly mention that you’re in debt to her for a lifetime, and in a way, you are – at least until you find the right time to explain why you drifted apart in detail. for now, bread seems to suffice in keeping her from prying too deeply into your past, which feels too serious to delve into casually.

it doesn’t help that hanni has been attending your practices and games, where she takes the time to admire your athletic abilities—and, if she’s honest with herself, you as a whole. she wonders what you went through that made you come back looking even more striking than before (and hotter too, though she tries to keep herself sane).

unfortunately for hanni, her feelings aren’t as discreet as she would like. hyein and minji are quick to notice her lingering glances and teasingly nudge her about her apparent crush on you. they often bring up her past confessions about having a small crush on you back then, though she always brushes it off with a laugh.

“stop, it’s not like that. besides, she’s too busy, it wouldn’t work out.”

hyein whines, grabbing onto hanni’s shoulder. “come oooonnnnn, you want her.”

“yeah when i was like 12-13, and plus, it was so small. i was literally a child.” hanni is lying, she’d look at you like you were the northern lights (something like that), you and her were like two leads in a disney movie. “we’re friends.”

“a friend that you’ve had a crush on?” minji smirks and hanni punches her shoulder. “okay…”

“can you guys shut up! she doesn’t want me.”

“she buys you bread and drinks.”

“she just feels bad!”

“well i guess we’ll see how bad she feels when we go on that trip.”

fuck. hanni thinks. fuck. 

another part of your stupid (yet interesting) project was the fact that you would be thrown into a nature reservation for three days. it was another unexpected twist in your project—being thrown into a nature reserve for three days. mr. wei had dropped the bombshell less than a week before the trip, leaving everyone bewildered. he mentioned it casually, emphasizing its importance for the project, and clarified that each pair would share a room during the stay. the suddenness of it all added an air of anticipation and nervous excitement among the students, but it left you and hanni stiff in your seats.

hanni. sharing a room. with you. (y/n). (y/n). in the same. space. as. hanni. hanni. 

hanni sits with minji and hyein, trying to ignore their knowing looks as she watches you from across the lunchroom. you're smiling amidst the laughter at your table, looking at the team like they’re idiots. suddenly, you turn your head and lock eyes with hanni. there's a pause as you both acknowledge each other, and then hanni awkwardly smiles, which earns a giggle from you. 

caught in that moment, hanni wonders if she can handle being trapped in a room with you if you ever end up giggling like that up close and personal. she doesn’t know if she can handle you up close and personal.

–

you, are up close and personal and hanni somehow manages.

hanni is taken aback when your head leans onto her shoulder during the train ride to the nature reserve. your breathing deepens, and you seem completely at ease, while she tries to maintain composure despite the unexpected closeness. she finds herself conflicted; on one hand, you look delicate and serene with strands of hair falling over your face, making her contemplate whether to brush them away or let them be. 

the realization hits her anew that you're definitely the prettiest girl she knows, a title she's only recently come to acknowledge. unsure of how to handle the situation, hanni slips in her earbud, turning up the volume of the song playing to drown out her racing thoughts.

–

if things haven’t already made hanni at risk of having some type of heart attack, then finding the hotel room and unlocking the door to see one bed definitely makes her prone to some sort of cardiovascular catastrophe. 

you feel yourself go tense, freezing in place as you realize the same thing.

“there’s one bed.” 

hanni looks at you like you’re an idiot. “no shit.”

“is there a mistake?” you check the hotel room number and look at the key in your hand. “it has to be…”

“let me ask the others, you stay here.” hanni says before leaving the room. you look at her with a tilted head, but shake it off, instead opting to look out the window in awe at the view. hanni fishes out her phone and dials minji. the phone rings for a moment before minji picks up, she hums and hanni speaks again, “hey, what room are you in?”

“722, you?”

“610, stay, i’m coming over.”

“what?”

“be there soon.”

minji attempts to respond, but hanni hangs up. she makes a weird sound that has danielle looking at her confused, minji just shrugs. 

a few minutes later, the pair hears a knock at the door. minji walks over, expecting hanni, and standing out her door is – hanni.

“how many beds do you have?” she asks quickly, stepping inside. 

“what happened to hey? hello? how are you?”

hanni ignores her remarks, too distracted by the fact that there’s two beds in minji’s room.

“fuck me.” hanni whispers, then puts a hand in her hair, gripping it. “oh my fucking god.”

“hanni what–”

danielle steps out the bathroom after hearing the commotion. she looks at minji, who looks back at her with the same confusion in her features. “what’s the problem hanni?”

“our room only has one bed.”

minji widens her eyes. “you’re telling me you and y/n are–”

“there has to be a mistake.” hanni groans, “it can’t be.”

the shortest in the room flops onto one bed, sighing as she stares up at the ceiling. both of her friends walk over and sit beside her, amused and worried at how she’s acting.

“hey! it’s not too bad. maybe you can talk to them and ask for a room with two beds! don’t worry, it’s not the end of the world.”

minji puts a hand up, waving it to dismiss danielle. she looks back down at hanni and shakes her head. “hanni doesn’t want to.”

“why wouldn’t she?”

“hanni, you wanna tell danielle?”

the youngest raises a brow. “tell me what?”

“enough minji, it’s– it’s not– well…” hanni groans, turning over on her side. “what if things get awkward between the two of us?”

“well, that’s only if something… you know, happens. you’re thinking so far ahead.”

“what if she’s uncomfy?”

minji sighs again. “she’s not, don’t be stupid.”

“i’m still confused.” danielle says in between. “what is going on?”

minji looks down at the defeated hanni, then to danielle. “hanni is in denial about being in love with y/n.”

“i thought that was in the past.”

“well it’s back.” hanni mumbles. “what if i shrivel up and die.”

“don’t be stupid.”

“hey, haerin did mention that y/n talks about you often. from what she’s told me y/n is comfortable with you, very comfy. there’s nothing to worry about.” hanni’s phone buzzes and danielle helps her out, grabbing it out the pocket of her sweatpants for the older girl. she holds the phone up to hanni’s face smushed against the mattress, successfully unlocking it, then checks the message. “it’s from y/n.”

“it is?”

“i knew it was from her as soon as it buzzed.” danielle rolls her eyes, reading the text. “it says ‘where are you?’ ‘are you okay with one bed?’ ‘do dani and minji have one bed?’ ‘i’m fine with just one if you are’”

hanni shoots up. “what.” she leans next to dani to see the screen:

[y/n] where are you? are you okay with one bed? do dani and minji have one bed? i’m fine with just one if you are it’s not that big of a deal unless you’re uncomfy i can ask the hotel managers hello?

hanni grabs the phone and types immediately.

[hanni] hi so sorry i was with dani and minji they have two beds im fine with one if you are! only if you are of course! it’s totally fine if you aren’t though  i hope that doesn’t sound weird you get what i mean? sorry

[y/n] i get it one bed then it’ll be fine, i think it’s a queen when will you be back?

minji and danielle watch hanni get off their bed and sprint out the room, then look at each other and giggle. hanni speedwalks down the hall, relying on her senses to not fuck up and make her trip or take a wrong step.

[hanni]  i was omw alr soon have you unpacked?

[y/n] no i was waiting for u c u don’t trip and fall

–

“you’re so clingy.” you groan, but still, you willingly let hanni cling onto you like a koala. 

the two of you are thirteen and the next day is confirmed to be a snow day, so hanni had sprinted over to your house (begged her parents to drive her over) and basically forced you into having a last minute sleepover. it’s not like you were against it though.

you and hanni had been on the couch watching a disney movie, though you had dozed off halfway through. to be fair, you had already seen rapunzel more times than you could count on one hand, and hanni always made you feel relaxed. 

now, she’s in your bed, your legs tangled under the covers, and she’s half on top of you with her arms wrapped around. she hugs tighter after hearing you, giggling into your ear.

“you’re sooo warm though, i don’t want to move.” the moment she says that, something shifts. you suddenly burn, it feels like something is swallowing you whole and your stomach is doing flips and your heart is running a marathon and– “i could stay like this forever.”

“oh,” you mumble. your hand finds its way to her shoulder, deciding to settle there and occasionally your thumb traces circles on her. “okay.”

you've never been this close to hanni before, not like this. thirteen and oblivious, you're caught in a whirlwind of changing emotions. her presence next to you makes your head spin, even though you're just lying there together. it's a sensation you're not sure you like—maybe because you're afraid hanni might feel something different, steadier, while you feel like you could easily topple over. the embarrassment of that thought flushes through you, adding to the confusion of the moment.

–

both of you are stiff lying next to each other, unable to move. the only light in the room is the lamp in the corner and neither of you dare to look at the other.

hanni is on her phone, trying to do anything to ease the tension when there’s a small space in between the two of you. sure, the bed is quite spacious, but in this situation it doesn’t seem like it.

“hey, hanni?” she shivers, your voice is low and hushed. “i’m going to sleep.”

“oh, okay.”

“yeah, night.”

there’s subtle shifts of the blanket and the muffled movements, catching your back turned away from her in her peripheral vision. there's a shared intimacy in the limited space, she’s aware of your efforts not to brush against her. the pillow meant for your head is firmly cradled in your arms, a subconscious barrier. hanni notices this and half-wishes for the same kind of closeness, if she were that pillow.

fuck, she thinks. she wonders whether or not you’re still as warm as before.

–

the next day you and hanni wake up a few centimeters closer, but not enough to be touching. neither of you bask in that mutual realization, instead, focused on getting water samples for the project.

there’s not much directing or instructing. sure, there’s ground rules and whatnot since it’s a literally nature reserve, but there’s a lot of academic freedom regarding research. you and hanni have the green light to collect water samples, but that means trekking through various areas that are… questionable.

both of you start with the easier places to grab samples, such as the small pond near the hotel, the little stream further down the road, and really any place that isn’t shrouded by organisms left and right. both of you take turns getting samples, laughing at the others expression when getting into contact with the water.

“ugh.” 

“it’s just water y/n.”

“you made the stupidest face when we were near the hotel and it was literally a cute little pond, do not test me.”

“whatever.”

“besides, you’re next after we go into the little woods.”

hanni curses mentally.

–

being alone together with hanni seems to be less and less suffocating with time. 

however, you feel like someone is punching you in the gut each time your knuckles and arms brush against each other walking along the forest trail. hanni doesn’t seem to think much on it, but you? you’re too hyperaware it seems embarrassing.

she runs off farther from you, finding another stream and taking out a small glass bottle to grab another sample. she crouches and reaches down, you can’t help but smile. she looks stupid, she always does, but it only makes her more attractive unfortunately. 

“cute.” 

“what did you say?” she looks up at you, you’re standing and watching from above. all she can see is you looking away and the tint of pink in your cheeks.

“you look dumb.” you play it off, then grab your phone to snag a picture of her. “yeah, super dumb.”

–

the next sample is a breeze, seeing as it’s some pool of water stuck in a big dent in the rocks along the path. 

it’s a breeze just walking and conversing time to time, almost forgetting that this is all for a project.

hanni spots a waterfall in the distance, eyes lighting up at the sight of it. she starts to run off and you yell out a measly “wait!” as she continues on. you groan and run after her, laughing along the way.

you lose her for a moment, a little scared because she’s nowhere in your line of sight. “hanni?” you call out, but she doesn’t respond. 

it isn’t until you hear a loud gasp, followed by a painful yelp, that hints at where hanni is at. you follow wherever the sound came from, then climb a few plateaued rocks to find hanni on the ground clutching her ankle.

“hanni! fuck, what happened?”

she looks up at you with a pained expression, then back to her foot. “i tripped on a branch and my ankle twisted weirdly, can you help me up?”

“yeah, sure, of course.” you respond quickly, rushing over to help her up. she’s struggling to apply pressure on her left foot, basically carrying herself with the right one. “can you walk?”

she shrugs, loosening her grip on you as she tries to take a few steps. the wince she lets out after the second step lets you know that she’s in no condition to carry herself like that. “um, kind of.”

“you liar.” you sigh, “how bad does it hurt? do you think it’s sprained?”

“no, i’ve sprained my ankle. it’s not that bad.” you remember when she sprained it too, but push down the memory. 

again, you sigh (really because you’re worried). you squat down and suggest, “get on my back.”

“are you crazy?”

“you just twisted your ankle and can’t even walk, are you?”

“i can find a big stick.”

“and i’ll whack you with it if you don’t get on.” hanni scoffs at your response. you look down bashfully, adding quietly, “it’s not like you haven’t piggybacked me before.”

(“we’re almost home.” you assure. hanni tightens her grip around you as you push her up, trying to stabilize yourself.

two eleven year olds and an empty playground meant chasing and chasing until one was out of breathe – or in this case, one had sprained her ankle.

you carried her over to the nearest bench when it happened, examining the growing puffiness on her foot and making a grossed out expression. hanni hit you playfully when you made the face, slightly offended but really just trying to lighten the mood.

“it doesn’t hurt that much, let’s just walk home and my parents can deal with it.”

“um… i’m no doctor but that doesn’t look right.”

“hey!”

“i didn’t mean it like that hanni! it just looks like… i don’t know, like a doctor should see it.”

“well, it’s fine to me.” hanni lets out a heavy sigh, then gets up only to topple over. she almost falls to the ground again, but you manage to catch her and stable her. she tears up when her weight shifts over to the injured ankle, and then frowns when you look at her disapprovingly.

“sit back down hanni, you hurt yourself.” you order her, then help her back to the bench. you crouch down in front of her and squat, turning so hanni can see the side of your face as you tell her, “get on my back.”

“what?”

“i’ll carry you home. you’re not heavy, and plus, you’re short.”

“you’re a bully.”

“get on!” you groan. hanni complies shortly after, wrapping her arms around your neck and feeling your hands stable her. “see? not bad at all. we’ll get home fine.”

hanni is amazed at your strength, but even more at the depth of your care for her. she feels the sweat building up on your skin, but you don’t mention it, not showing a hint of struggle. your unwavering effort almost convinces hanni that everything is alright.)

“y/n, we’re not eleven anymore. i’m not as small and light.”

you click your tongue teasingly, turning so you can see her from your peripheral. “you’re still small, and probably light too. just get on or you’ll fuck up your foot even more.”

she hesitates, but gets on anyway. you stand up easily, just like you did as kids. your hands are under her thighs in order to keep her in place, her arms warp around your neck and her head is on your shoulder. she feels you gulp agaisnt her skin.

“are you okay?” she asks, you just nod. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t, you’re never a problem.”

your response is oddly endearing, shutting hanni up the whole way back.

it’s mainly silent, except for the faint sound of hanni’s breathing reaching your ears. you can’t trust yourself to say anything coherent; your thoughts are a jumbled mess with her this close. 

occasionally, she stops trying and lets her chin rest on your shoulder. each time she does, you feel like you might explode, but you never do. hanni has that effect on you; she always has. it makes sense why you strayed away years back. but despite the turmoil, the feeling is so lovely, and the butterflies in your stomach make you yearn for something more.

“we’re almost there.” your endurance is starting to die down and hanni starts to feel heavier. it’s been nearly twenty minutes (give or take), but you’ve been pushing aside the burn in your legs. “you alright?”

“yes.”

“good.” 

the first mistake you make is turning to meet her eye to eye, almost slipping in the middle of the trail. she looks at you deeply, making you shrink and shrink until it’s just your beating heart.

“are you alright? you’re not tired?”

“i’m fine. we’re almost there anyway.”

“i owe you so much, sorry for being stupid.”

pursing your lips and turning away, you shake your head slightly. “you don’t owe me anything.”

–

hanni gets treated by the nurse on the reserve while you test the levels of ph in each sample. some of the water from your samples are also observed by the laboratory on the reserve, and you’re attentive to everything the scientists observe and explain. 

you return to the nurse right after hanni is done with her examination, her foot is wrapped and there’s a pair of crutches next to her. 

“what did the nurse say?”

“she said i’m lucky it’s a minor injury.” hanni begins, looking down at her foot. “and that i should ice it and try to move it around little by little.”

“how long will it take to heal fully?”

“something like a week or so, again, not the worst injury.”

still, you frown. “lucky we got every sample today. the rest of the project doesn’t require much walking.”

“i guess.” she mumbles. “did you get everything through? how are the samples?”

“we can worry about that tomorrow, don’t worry.” she watches you squat down in front of her, turning your head the same way you did before and smiling subtly. “crutches will slow you down, and you’re easy to carry.”

“well thanks ms. mvp.”

“blah blah you like being on my back, admit it.” you push her buttons a little, hearing a “hmph” before she gets on and wraps her arms around your neck. you hold hanni with one hand as you grab her crutches, then manage to stable her with both again.

the whole way back you’re trying not to smile too hard. your cheeks already burn and hanni stays silent as you bring yourselves up to your floor, step inside the room, and set her down on your temporary shared bed. 

she watches you set the crutches down against the counter and you watch her flop on her back.

“how is your foot?”

“hurts, but less than before.”

“mhm, you should go shower. do you need help?” you pause, blushing like crazy when you realize the implications. “like, you know, to get there–”

she lets you live and says, “it’s alright, i can hop a few times and get there.”

“if i hear you fall in the shower i’m not going to get you.”

she snickers, getting back up. then looks at you fondly.

“i wont, silly.”

hanni thankfully lives up to her response, and you don't hear any commotion from inside the bathroom. when she emerges, she's in one piece and dressed in her pajamas. limping slightly, she makes her way back to the bed, sitting on the edge and moving her foot around slowly. her brows furrow a bit, but she seems relatively fine. relieved, you head into the bathroom to clean up and get ready for bed, trying to shake off the lingering worry.

–

there’s a weird tingly feeling that spreads over hanni when you walk out of the bathroom with wet hair and flushed cheeks from the hot shower. you looked like this last night, and seeing you again makes her wonder how it’d be to see you like that more often.

you walk over with the towel on your shoulders to prevent water dampening your back, and also the brace that she had left in the bathroo. hanni watches you pull a chair over and sit in front of her.

“you forgot something.”

“it feels fine right now,” you watch her shrug, looking at her foot. with an amusing expression, something mixed with “you’re an idiot” and slight worry, you poke the swollen area. “hey!” hanni winces.

“it looks like ten mosquitoes bit your foot, stupid. here, give me your foot.”

“what?”

"oh my god, just–" you mutter, grabbing her foot gently above the ankle and placing it on your knee. hanni watches as you carefully position the ankle brace, threading the end underneath before wrapping it tightly around until it reaches the velcro. your concentration is evident in your scrunched brows and pursed lips, handling her with a tenderness that makes her heart flutter.

when you're done, you poke at the brace and move hanni’s foot around, careful and slow, to check the fit. "there. how does it feel? too tight?" you ask, looking up at her with a mixture of concern and hope.

“no, not at all.” she says, shaking her head.

“try to move it.” hanni does so, feeling minimal pain. “all good?”

“yeah, better than the nurse.”

“right.” 

just to make sure, you squeeze around areas of her foot to check the tightness. you look up to see her staring at you intensely, none of you break eye contact until – even as you stand, watching her head tilt up to continue looking at you. 

her hair is already dry, it frames her face loosely, you can’t help but brush it out the way. hanni’s lips part subconsciously when your finger accidentally grazes her jawline, trying not to think on it much as you move away to get into bed.

both of you lie there, silent.

hanni is the first to turn towards the middle, and you follow shortly after. 

the soft, plump lips catch your attention first. then, you scan all the way up to her nose until it’s just her eyes – her pupils hold you stuck in place.

“you’re so different.” hanni blurts, it’s almost a whisper. “hyein told me about a new girl and i didn’t think it’d be you. i still can’t believe you’re here.”

your body freezes as she pushes hair behind your ear, then relaxes upon hearing her voice again.

“thanks for everything.”

“it’s nothing if its you.”

“really?”

you hum almost immediately.

–

your hand is resting on hers when you wake up. you blink once, twice, and once again before hanni’s smushed cheek comes into full view. you stay still, looking at her as you yawn, trying not to disturb the peaceful moment.

she’s relaxed, her face free of worry as she slumbers. something about her makes you want to trace each and every feature until your finger is mush, until you can make out her face with your eyes covered in a sea of people. you could sit and stare for the rest of the trip.

it’s apparent that your feelings for her would always linger, no matter how close or far you are. no one could forget a face as breathtaking as hers.

–

the next day and the last are spent compiling research together. you and hanni settle into the small, homey café inside the hotel, typing away and considering each other’s suggestions, thoughts, and edits.

you manage to organize all of the data into a visually pleasing graphic by the time everything is done, while hanni handles most of the analysis and explanations on each slide. it takes a long while, but working side by side, with your arms often brushing, makes it less of a hassle.

on the final night, you're helping hanni with her ankle brace again. she enjoys this time because it allows her to stare at you without worrying about you catching her in the act. you’re too concentrated to notice her (or at least that’s what she believes), handling her with care and precision. in truth, you simply enjoy taking care of her, making sure she’s okay.

both of you end up asleep again, side by side, then facing each other.

in the middle of the night, hanni turns away from you, facing the edge of the bed. unbeknownst to you, in your sleep, you reach out, craving her presence even while unconscious. your arm drapes over her, pulling her closer. hanni stirs slightly, just barely awake, and realizes it’s you. sleepily, she turns back to face you, finding warmth and comfort in your embrace.

if there’s any questioning in the morning, hanni has a backup plan. she'll claim she didn’t realize she had been clinging onto you until she woke up and that she’s used to hugging a pillow.

(these days, she wishes that pillow were you.)

(you don’t mind being the pillow.)

–

“okay. you have everything, right?” 

it’s eight in the morning and the bus leaves at nine. your bag is packed already, and so is hanni’s.

“mhm.”

“great.” you say before tucking your charger away in the front pocket of your backpack.

turning your head over, you notice hanni sitting on the edge of the bed and staring out the window. the view is perfect, you spent a lot of time looking outside when the sky was pretty, but not enough you realize – now that you’re about to go back near the city.

you walk over to sit next to her, leaving little space in between the two of you.

hanni moves her foot in a small circle, probably without knowing since she looks so focused on the view in front of her.

“does your ankle feel better?”

“yeah, because of you.” she turns her head to face you, the distance between both of you grows smaller. hanni slides herself closer. “i really liked spending time with you here.”

“me too.”

her breath hitches. “i wish we could’ve had more time outside.”

“its fine.” you hesitate before reaching out to move her outgrown bangs away from her eye. “you should trim your bangs.”

“mhm.” hanni isn’t really listening, not when your hand is under her jaw.

you lean closer, noses nearly touching. hanni's eyes flutter shut, and you hesitate, your lips just a breath away from hers. her fingers nervously play with the neckline of your t-shirt, a silent invitation. with that small gesture, you tilt your head a little more and close the distance, your lips finally meeting hers.

it’s delicate at first, short and swift. the two of you part a few millimeters away before you kiss her again, each kiss growing longer and more comfortable. it feels right, perfect – all of it. her hand slides up to your collarbone and rests at the base of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. hanni hums softly into the kiss, her nails pressing subtly into your skin. 

it feels like you’re on cloud nine.

the two of you part after a few more slow kisses, for real this time, now able to see the effect you have on each other.

your cheeks are bloodshot, and hanni’s cheeks mirror yours. 

“can i do that again?”

hanni nods, biting her lip slightly.

you lean forward again and kiss her as if its the only thing you’ve ever dreamed of. 

what catches you off guard is her putting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it as she pushes you back slightly. your lips are still close, and you can feel her hot breath brushing your skin.

“w-wait, y/n.”

“hm? did you not like it? sorry oh my god–” she cuts your worries off with a kiss.

“no, i just–” hanni parts further, you feel your heart sink. she looks down at your lips for a moment. “--i want to keep going but before i can… i’ve been thinking,”

“about?”

“us.”

“how?”

“y/n, you wanted to be friends at first, and so did i. trust me, i really really liked that, like, so much.”

you look at her, confused.

“but this isn’t what friends do, and i want to be more than friends but… i just, i just really need to know why we ever stopped being how we used to. the full reason.”

“what?”

“there was something left out, i guess it felt vague – your apology.”

you can’t believe her, and the fact that the moment was halted because of it makes you a little irritated. “you’re still stuck on that?” the defensive, aggressive tone throws hanni off. “you’re– you’re joking, right?”

hanni pulls away fully now, taking her hands off of you. “why are you getting angry again, you can’t tell me the real reason, is that it?”

“hanni, i just–”

“you gave me an apology, but it wasn’t the full thing. that’s enough to be friends again, but to kiss you and have something beyond being friends… i’d like a full explanation, you know?”

you scoff, shaking your head. “you’re still stuck on it.” you say unbelievably.

“of course i am! i want to know the full reason before we… before this.” she points between the two of you

“i– i can’t hanni.”

“is it that bad?”

“i just, not now, please.” it’s too selfish and humiliating, besides, you’ve already kissed her. an explanation isn’t even necessary. 

“you can’t even tell me.” hanni looks at you, a feeling of betrayal seeps into her. “and you expect me to keep kissing you.”

“it’s not relevant! it’s not serious.”

“then tell me! what’s so hard y/n, what is so fucking difficult to confess.”

“i’m not arguing with you hanni, not now.” you sigh, standing up. “we should meet the others downstairs.”

“go on and avoid this like you did years ago, are you going to pop up next week and tell me you’re going abroad again or…?”

you don’t respond, mainly because you don’t trust yourself to say something that’ll keep the fire from bursting and growing. shaking your head, you grab your bag and put it on, looking at her again with a tongue poking the inside of your lip.

“let’s go.”

“go by yourself.”

“hanni, you’re on crutches.”

“go.” she spits, sounding sad, angry, and deceived. 

–

you’ve fucked up.

so badly.

hanni steps out of the elevator on her crutches, giving you a brief glance before heading over to minji and danielle. you frown, memories flooding back and making it feel like all the effort to reconnect was for nothing. you still managed to screw everything up.

you know you’re in trouble when she doesn’t let you help her onto the bus, when she stares out the window the whole ride back, and when she starts giving you the same cold treatment you gave her years ago.

after kissing hanni and then feeling rejected by her within the same hour, a heavy weight settles on your chest. you try to talk to her, you really do, but she doesn’t budge or respond, letting you sit with the consequences of your actions alone. the ride back feels like needles slowly, slowly poking into your skin, and you can’t do anything about it. 

–

hanni doesn’t leave your mind, even after two weeks of getting back to school, settling into your practices and winning districts – nothing helps the fact that your brain screams hanni hanni hanni. 

everytime you see her, you try to talk to her or interact, but she just won’t let it happen. 

even minji's exchanges with you are shorter now, more reserved, focusing mainly on school. you feel like you've dug a hole in the ground only to get stuck there, with all your progress leading to a pothole you can’t escape. it doesn’t help that every time you see hanni, you just want to hold her again, take care of her, and offer that same softness and genuine care. but you can't, and she won’t let you.

even after you two present your project together, with hanni complying just enough to give you a temporary moment of interaction, she quickly returns to her reserved self. it’s terrible because she’s still that same hanni you love when she’s not around you. you catch her laughing with her friends at lunch, smiling, looking pretty, and seeming unbothered by everything.

you might die if you don't get to interact with her normally again. every second, the thought of hanni smiling at you instead, maybe even kissing you and holding onto you like before, crosses your mind. you try to push it down, burying it deep into the back of your mind, locking it away; because the only way to try and live with it for the time being is to ignore it.

(it’s almost impossible.

screw that, it’s impossible.)

–

hanni catches sight of you from a few tables away in the lunchroom. you’re surrounded by cheerful, excited teammates, all celebrating the recent district win. even haerin, usually quiet and reserved, is more talkative and lively.

but you’re not.

her eyes meet yours for a fleeting second. she sees a flicker of hope in your gaze, and her heart clenches. she tries hard to look away, forcing herself to ignore you as she always does. despite the happiness and laughter around you, there’s a melancholy in your eyes that she can’t shake off, and it makes her heart ache. even with that, she can’t give in, she’s too afraid of false truths and feeling worse along the line.

“you haven’t touched your lunch.” minji points out. “hanni, you can’t keep doing this.”

“i have to.”

“i know she fucked up, but she’s come to me begging to talk to you. she’s hurt and regrets a lot. if you could let her explain, then maybe things will work out.”

“and what if it’s just a sugarcoated explanation? minji, i can’t feel like that again.”

“you’re already skipping meals, and i know it’s screwing you up too. could letting her back in really be any worse?”

hanni hates that minji is really smart. she’s right—she’s usually right, anyway. hanni knows she’s partly to blame for letting the crack in your relationship start to form again. if the distance keeps growing, she’s not sure if it can be patched up the way it was before. the thought of losing what you two had, after all the effort to rebuild it, terrifies her.

“i don’t know minji.” she puts her head down, her voice being muffled in her arms as she says, “i really don’t know.”

“you have to let her in.”

“will she let me in?”

“y/n is not a bad person, from my judgement at least.” minji states. she puts a hand on hanni’s back, offering a comforting squeeze. “plus, my best friend can’t eat because of it.”

–

hanni watches you from afar, still on the school courts shooting hoops long after practice has ended. she knows you use practice to distract yourself and escape, and seeing you shoot like a relentless machine makes her feel worse than she already does. you miss one shot, then another, and finally, in frustration, throw the ball across the court, not far from where hanni stands.

from across the gym, you spot her standing in the doorway, frozen in place. your chest heaves with exertion, sweat dripping, and exhaustion settling in. just seeing hanni makes your body feel heavier, shoulders slumping and arms going limp.

she watches you with a frown but can’t hold your gaze any longer. you observe her biting her lip before she turns and leaves, and you're left alone with the weight of your emotions and the distance between you growing even larger.

it’s all my fault. it’s the truth, you can’t let it go on any longer. your legs hurt, you don’t know if shooting is worth it after seeing her because she’ll flash in your mind and you’ll miss each time. 

hanni’s not going to give in for another while, and you’re growing impatient. you’re not fourteen anymore, you can’t be stubborn and stupid for the rest of your life.

you can’t be the reason for your own regrets anymore, losing everything you’ve built with hanni – losing hanni – would be the last straw.

–

the sound of something hitting the window halts hanni’s efforts of falling asleep. she hasn’t been able to without melatonin, not when she’s been distancing herself from you.

she rubs her eyes and groans, then glances through the window, her breath fogging the cold glass as she scoffs at the sight of you standing outside. it's freezing, she knows, and even the a/c can't fend off the chill. she squints, trying to make out your figure in the dim light. you're in pajamas, a light long-sleeve shirt flapping loosely in the wind, and plaid pants that are clearly shit against the biting cold. the front lights aren't on, casting you in shadows, but she can still see enough to worry about you.

she can’t, she’s done everything she can not to talk to you, but she can’t just ignore the fact that you’re out in the cold and if she does brush you off you’ll end up sick the next day. hanni can give you the cold shoulder, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you, she can’t have you catching a cold.

you wait there, feeling your fingers start to numb as the wind blows again. your teeth clammer against each other when you shiver, waiting there helplessly; the only way to get hanni back is to be vulnerable, if that means waking up stuffy and congested, then so be it.

"what the hell is wrong with you, y/n?" hanni says, her tone more worried than angry. she rushes over to you, grabbing your hand and dragging you inside. "it's past midnight, are you insane?"

“hanni let me apologize, please. no bullshit this time, full truth.”

“y/n,” hanni sighs, looking at you closely. the lamp in her living room hits one side of your face, showing the slight tint of red on your cheeks and nose. “come upstairs. fuck you’re so lucky my parents aren’t home.”

“thank you.”

“yeah, whatever.” she says, but so quietly that you can’t even hear it.

you follow her like a lost dog up the stairs and into her room, she closes the door, then turns on her desk lamp. 

hanni hears your breath shake. “there’s a reason behind everything i do.”

“don’t sugarcoat anything y/n. i’ve given you a second chance, you’re lucky i’m giving you a third.”

“i know, i’m the luckiest person already after being able to be your friend. and i want that again, no, let me be clear.” you step closer to her, head tilted down to meet her features. shes unable to tear away from your gaze, stuck in place. somehow, you look even cuter with your rosy cheeks and ruined hair from the wind, and those pajamas make you look like an adorable idiot. “it’s not an excuse, but people are so stupid when they’ve just become teenagers.”

“clearly.”

“i know.” you sigh out again. she’s looking up still, dead into your eyes that soften upon just seeing her and it’s like there’s a whole world in your pupils as they dilate. “look, i don’t want to regret more than i already do. i was stupid, i never liked anyone, – romantically – until you.”

“what?”

“hanni, i found you so pretty and amazing and we were fucking young and you were my only friend. i couldn’t even make friends when i went to korea, you know? no one was as striking as you. i’ve made friends here but they’re nothing like you. it’s just so embarrassing and terrible to admit, i’ve been running around it, in circles really. that’s why i’ve never told you, that’s why i get so mad at the mere mention of it because it’s just so… it frustrated me.”

“what are you saying y/n?”

“hanni.” your voice lowers and your lips twitch. “ all those years, they were frustrating and confusing and screwed up my brain that wasn’t even fully developed. i’ve loved you for more years than i can count on one hand. i never knew that, really, until we got to middle school. i was so scared my feelings would get in the way and you had all these other friends that made you laugh more than me. i was scared you would grow out of me, i hated the idea of you with anyone else but me.”

silence follows, hanni’s brows upturn and her jaw drops slightly. the red glazing your cheeks is much more apparent, so deep that she might even be able to see it without the soft light in her room. 

“i shouldn’t have been so insecure and stupid and selfish and–” you pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “i’m sorry. and i’m still in love with you more than you’ll ever know, and after kissing you i know that’s not going away. i know that to fix everything i need to be honest and i couldn’t even do that and i–”

“you like me?” hanni says, surprised isn’t enough to explain how she feels.

“what?”

“it’s all because you liked me? you did this because you were in love with me? y/n, oh my god.”

“i understand if you’re mad hanni i really do–”

“no– yes. i’m pissed.” she looks at you defeatedly, but somehow relieved at the same time. “you’re the stupidest person i know.” her voice is faint as she pieces everything together. 

“i know and i shouldn’t have–”

“no, shut up.” she watches your expression shift into confusion. her hands find their way to your face, cupping it like it’s the only thing they were meant to do. she whispers as she leans closer, “you dumbass just shut up.”

her lips are on yours again since the hotel, rushed and desperate and everything in between. 

naturally, your hands find their way to her waist, holding her close. you melt into each other, kissing and kissing because it's the only thing you can and want to do. warmth floods through you, getting rid of the cold of the night. hanni reverses the numbing sensation that you had felt, making you feel. what you’re feeling? there’s not much that can describe that, you just know that everything in this moment is perfect. she's perfect—her against you, with you, close to you. her lips, her presence, just her—hanni.

both of you pull away at the same time after running short on breath. she stares at you, plays with your hair, and kisses you again. 

hanni does anything she can to keep close to you, right there in the middle of her room on the carpet that you helped her pick out. 

you don't think there's a single thought in your mind that isn't of hanni, not just because you’re kissing her, but really, in general. her fingers grip the back of your neck, her are lips soft and warm against yours, and she groans lightly into you. the heat radiates off her skin, wrapping you in a comforting warmth that seeps into your bones. 

and it feels right to move over, hanni figures. she guides you over to her bed, praying that you two don’t trip when she redirects you over to her matress, climbing into your lap. she pulls away again, slowly.

your lips have a mind of their own, following hers even if they’re starting to get puffy. you’re unsure whether or not you can even breathe. 

she slides her hands to the sides of your neck, then up just below your jawline. her skin brushes against you and goosebumps roam up your spine. 

“you’re so stupid.”

“uh huh.” you mumble, staring at her like a loser. “yeah.”

she giggles, then her lips form a loving smile. “you’re in love with me.” she says, almost like she’s convincing herself. “you love me.”

bashfully, you respond, “yeah.”

“and because of that you avoided me.”

your hands loosen around her waist. “sorry.”

“no, you’re an idiot.”

“i know hanni, i know.”

“no you don’t.” she slides one hand back into your hair and it feels like time has slowed down. “i’ve been in love with you, dumbass.”

“you– you have?”

“we just madeout for almost an hour – probably –  yes, i’m in love with you. i had a crush on you when we were twelve– i’ve had a crush on you since.” she leans closer, her lips ghosting over yours. “you’re so, so, dumb y/n. kiss me again and i’ll forgive you, i guess.”

“uh huh.” you practically respond into the kiss, meeting her eagerly. 

it feels right just kissing her like that, slow and steady, then quick and longing until your lips are swollen and numb. she falls down onto the bed tiredly, coaxing you to follow. even after taking each other’s breath away, you’re cautious of the boundaries and what you can do. you’re still an asshole for being stupid and in love, you think you’ll always be an asshole because of that.

but hanni manages to wash away any worry, scooting closer into you and clinging onto you again. you feel her press a haste kiss on your neck and sigh sleepily, then mutter, “i’m just glad things turned out like this.”

“me too.”

“you still owe me a lot y/n.”

nodding slowly, you respond quietly, “okay, i’ll buy us bread tomorrow.”

“mhm,” she closes her eyes, and sighs happily when your fingers start to soothe her scalp. “and kiss me again.”

“that’s nothing.”

“good.” she murmurs. “you’re so warm. stay.”

hanni’s spent every moon thinking of you, being mad at you, missing you, and loving you regardless. you’ve spent every second doing this. it’s the feeling of being curled up together comfortably that makes up for everything – nothing can beat it, nothing’s better than hanni in your arms, right there, right now. 

you, hanni, together – that’s all that matters.

“i’m not going anywhere.” you promise, voice so thin it might break if the wind manages to seep through the closed windows. “never again.” 

[goldfades]

𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈'𝐌 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 / 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ─ PB⁵

TRACK 22 ─── SO HIGH SCHOOL

TTPD CELLY MASTERLIST !

౨ৎ ─ summary | you've been dating paige for a few months, and as your relationship deepens, the playful tension and shared moments of affection—whether it's her teasing touches during late-night gaming or her sweet gestures off the court—make you fall for her even harder, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. paige effortlessly blends her fierce athleticism with her soft, caring side, reminding you every day why you adore her

─ word count | 4.7k

─ warnings | nsfw (mdni) with lots of plot, light descriptions of fingering (reader receiving) while kk and ice r in the room, fluffy nonetheless! absolute cuteness and pretty light and sweet, slight hurt/comfort, ummmm nothing else im pretty sure

─ ev's notes | the long awaited so high school fic !!!!! and im back in the paige buckets era ! i hope everyone enjoys this as a part of my very late continuation of my ttpd masterlist

You’ve been dating Paige for a couple of months now, and somehow, everything still feels brand new. Each time you’re with her, it’s like your heart never quite learned to stop fluttering. She’s become the center of your world, and while things got serious between the two of you quickly, it feels just right—like you’ve found something rare. Something special.

You sit on the bleachers, watching Paige at practice. The squeak of sneakers on hardwood echoes through the gym as her team runs drills, but your focus is all on her—her sharp movements, the way she commands the court with such ease. You catch her looking over at you from time to time, and each time, you can’t help but grin. Paige grins back, shaking her head, as if she knows she’s getting distracted but can’t help it.

As practice winds down, you make your way down to the court. Paige jogs over, her face flushed from exertion, but there’s that familiar spark in her eyes when she sees you. “You’re trouble, you know that?” she says, laughing as she wipes sweat from her forehead.

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“You’re all I could think about today. Coach is probably going to kill me for zoning out so much.”

You smirk, leaning closer. “Glad to know I’m getting in your head, Bueckers.”

Later, in her dorm, the two of you are sprawled out on her bed, just talking. The conversation drifts to your first impressions of each other, and you start reminiscing about how you always dreamed of dating someone like her back in high school.

“You know,” you begin, eyes tracing the ceiling as you talk, “I used to fantasize about dating someone on the basketball team. Like, I wanted to be that person who wore their jersey on game days, made posters, and cheered them on from the front row. But... I never got to do any of that.”

Paige is quiet for a moment, but you can feel her eyes on you. When you glance over, she’s smiling—soft, thoughtful. “Why not?”

“I don’t know, I guess I never had the chance. It was always just a daydream.”

Paige sits up, crossing her legs as she reaches for something. You watch as she pulls out one of her jerseys from a drawer and holds it out to you. “Well,” she says, her voice playful but sincere, “now you can.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Wear it to the next game. Make a poster if you want. Go all out.”

You take the jersey from her, the fabric soft and warm in your hands, and your smile grows impossibly wide. “You’re gonna regret this,” you tease, already imagining the scene in your head.

“Not a chance,” she replies, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “I can’t wait to see it.”

───

It’s been a rough day. That exam you’d been stressing over for weeks didn’t go the way you’d hoped, and the weight of it presses down on you as you slump into the chair in Paige’s dorm. You’re quiet, distracted, the disappointment gnawing at you, and Paige notices immediately.

“Hey,” she says softly, her voice cutting through the fog in your mind. “You okay?”

You try to smile, shrugging it off. “Yeah, just... had a bad exam. It’s fine.”

But Paige knows you better than that.

She doesn’t push, just crosses the room with that easy grace she always has, sitting down beside you. Her presence alone feels like a comfort, like a steadying force in the middle of your chaos. She reaches for your hand, her fingers warm as they intertwine with yours.

“Talk to me, baby.” She says gently.

You sigh, running your free hand through your hair. “I just—I don’t know. I thought I had it. I studied, I worked so hard, and still… it wasn’t enough.” Your voice cracks a little at the end, and you hate how vulnerable it sounds, how it feels like everything you’ve been holding together is coming undone in front of her.

Paige shifts closer, her hand giving yours a reassuring squeeze. “I get it,” she murmurs, her tone soft but strong. “But one bad exam doesn’t change anything. You’re still amazing, and you’re still working your ass off. You’re going to be okay.”

Her words settle over you like a blanket, warm and steady, but it’s not just what she’s saying—it’s how she’s saying it. Like she believes in you so fully, even when you don’t believe in yourself. You glance up, meeting her blue eyes, and there’s nothing but sincerity there, nothing but love.

Paige shifts again, her hand moving to your back, tracing gentle circles between your shoulder blades. The touch is tender, unhurried, and it’s enough to ease some of the tightness in your chest. She leans in, pressing her forehead to yours. “I’m proud of you, baby. No matter what.”

The words hit you deep, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. You close your eyes, letting the warmth of her touch and her presence sink into you. For a moment, the disappointment fades, replaced by this quiet moment between the two of you. Paige’s breath is warm against your skin, her fingers steady as they trail up and down your back, grounding you.

“I don’t deserve you,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Paige pulls back just enough to look at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Don’t say that.” Her voice is firm, but there’s a softness to it. She leans in, kissing the corner of your mouth. “You deserve everything. You’re strong, and kind, and... I love you. That’s not changing because of some exam.”

The way she says it, the way her voice wraps around those three words, makes your heart swell. You’ve heard her say it before, but right now, in this moment, it feels like an anchor, pulling you out of the spiral of doubt and frustration.

You nod, swallowing hard, and Paige gives you a small, comforting smile before pulling you into her arms. You let yourself melt into her, your head resting on her shoulder as she holds you close. She smells like clean laundry and faintly of the gym, but to you, it’s the most comforting scent in the world.

She rubs your back in slow, soothing motions, her lips brushing against your temple. “I’m here, okay? Always.”

And somehow, with her arms around you and her quiet reassurances in your ear, the weight on your chest feels lighter. Not gone, but manageable. You sigh, feeling the tension leave your body, and you press a soft kiss to her collarbone in silent gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Paige just holds you tighter, her cheek resting against your hair. “Always,” she repeats softly, her fingers tracing slow, calming lines along your arm. And in that moment, wrapped up in her warmth and her love, the world doesn’t feel quite as heavy anymore.

───

"KK, you’re so shit." Ice yells, her voice cutting through the room as she throws her controller down dramatically. “How did you let me get sniped like that?”

KK rolls her eyes, her fingers still flying over the buttons. “Maybe if you weren’t running out in the open like a sitting duck, you’d be alive.”

Laughter erupts from the room, Paige chuckling beside you as her character jumps off a cliff in-game to make a quick escape. You sit close to her, legs tucked up under a blanket the two of you are sharing, your shoulder pressed against hers. The warmth of the blanket is nothing compared to the heat radiating between you, especially with how Paige’s arm occasionally brushes against yours, each touch sparking something that neither of you has addressed yet.

Paige lets out a low groan as her avatar gets eliminated. “Ugh, we’re so cooked.”

“You mean you’re cooked,” Ice teases, grinning as she watches the screen. “You keep getting distracted.”

You catch Paige’s eyes flicker toward you for a split second before she responds. “Whatever.”

Her teammates continue talking trash, but you barely hear them. Your focus has shifted, drawn completely to the way Paige leans just a little closer under the blanket, her thigh brushing against yours. It’s such a small, innocent touch, but it sends a shiver down your spine. The game blares from the screen, but all you can think about is how warm her skin feels against you, how every accidental nudge feels deliberate.

You shift slightly, adjusting the blanket, and in doing so, your fingers graze the side of her leg. Paige freezes for a split second, her hand still hovering over the controller, but then she clears her throat, refocusing on the screen in front of her. You glance at her from the corner of your eye and catch the slightest smirk playing on her lips.

“Okay, okay, I’m going full beast mode now,” Paige says, her voice low but filled with a new kind of energy. She’s leaning forward a little, but not enough to break the connection between you two. Her elbow brushes against your side again, and this time, it feels intentional.

KK, still playing, laughs. “Paige, you’re always full beast mode. You just suck tonight.”

“Shut up,” Paige mutters, her concentration slipping again as her fingers falter over the controls. She shifts back against the couch, her body pressing closer to yours, the tension between you almost tangible now. Her hand, resting on her lap, is so close to yours that you can feel the faintest brush of her knuckles.

You bite your lip, trying to stay focused on the game, or at least pretending to, but all you can feel is her presence, the way her body seems to gravitate toward yours. The noise of the room fades, the sounds of Ice and KK's bickering becoming background chatter as your attention zeroes in on Paige.

She’s pretending like she’s completely immersed in the game, but you know better. Her eyes flicker toward you again, the slightest glance, and her leg presses a little more firmly against yours, a silent acknowledgment of what’s brewing between you. The blanket covering you feels like it’s trapping heat, your heart beating faster, and you wonder if Paige can feel it too.

Without thinking, you shift again, this time allowing your fingers to brush more deliberately against her thigh. Paige’s breath hitches, almost imperceptibly, and she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans into the touch, her fingers tightening around the controller for a moment before she exhales slowly, the tension between you both crackling like static.

KK and Ice are still yelling about something on the screen, but you and Paige are in your own little bubble now. The blanket has become a shield, a cover for the way her pinky brushes against yours, so subtle but charged with meaning. You steal a glance at her face and see the way her lips part, her focus entirely split between the game and you now.

Paige shifts again, and this time, her knee nudges yours beneath the blanket. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes flicker toward you once more, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a barely-there smile. There’s a challenge in her eyes, something playful but undeniably electric.

"Nice shot, P!" KK shouts suddenly, breaking the moment for just a second. Paige barely reacts, just lets out a breathy laugh, and you can tell she’s trying not to get too lost in the moment with you sitting so close.

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” Paige says, still distracted, her eyes darting to yours as her pinky hooks slightly around yours, hidden beneath the blanket.

The tension between you is thick now, unspoken but undeniable. The game continues on the screen, but neither of you is paying attention anymore. All you can think about is the heat radiating from her body, the way her touch lingers on yours like it’s the only thing grounding you both in this moment. The air feels heavy with something unspoken, something waiting to be acknowledged.

Your breath catches, and you wonder if she’s going to make a move or if she’s waiting for you to. The game blares on, Ice and KK oblivious, but for you and Paige, everything else has faded into the background.

As the game continues to play out on the screen, Paige’s hand slowly slips from where it’s resting on her lap, her fingers brushing against your thigh under the blanket. At first, the touch is light, almost casual, but you feel a spark shoot through you the moment her fingertips make contact with your skin. It sends your heart into overdrive, your breath catching in your throat as she presses her hand more firmly against you.

Neither of you speaks, but you can feel the weight of what’s happening between you.

Paige’s fingers begin to trace slow, deliberate patterns along your thigh, her touch warm and teasing. The movement is subtle, careful to avoid drawing attention from KK and Ice, who are still caught up in their game, oblivious to the tension building just inches away from them.

Your body tenses for a moment, a mix of anticipation and excitement making it hard to focus on anything but the sensation of Paige’s hand. She keeps her eyes fixed on the screen, her face perfectly composed, but there’s a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, like she’s fully aware of the effect she’s having on you.

Her hand moves higher, inch by inch, fingers trailing upward with agonizing slowness. You bite your lip, trying to keep your breathing steady, but the closer her hand gets to your warmth, the harder it becomes to maintain your composure. The heat between you grows, thick and undeniable, and you feel your body instinctively shifting closer to hers, wanting more of her touch.

Paige’s hand pauses just above your shorts, her thumb rubbing small circles against your skin, testing the waters. She doesn’t look at you, but the tension between you both is palpable, her fingers creeping higher as the blanket shields you from prying eyes. Your breath hitches, and you can’t help but glance down, watching the way her hand moves slowly, possessively.

“Paige,” you murmur softly, barely above a whisper, your voice shaky with the building tension.

She finally turns her head slightly, her eyes meeting yours for the briefest moment, dark and full of something that makes your stomach flip.

Her lips twitch into a small, teasing smile as her fingers slide just a bit higher, dangerously close to your underwear now. “Shh, can you be quiet for me?” she whispers back, her voice low and laced with amusement, like she’s enjoying this game more than the one on the screen.

Your pulse races as you nod, your skin tingling under her touch, and the blanket feels impossibly heavy now. Paige’s fingers linger at the edge of your thigh, just shy of where you want her to go, her hand warm and steady, teasing you.

The room around you feels like a distant blur, KK and Ice’s laughter barely registering in your ears as all your focus narrows down to the way Paige’s hand feels against your thigh. Every second drags on, the slow burn of anticipation making your heart pound in your chest. You shift slightly, your leg brushing against hers, and the movement draws a soft hum from her, her thumb pressing just a little harder into your skin.

You can’t help it—the tension between you both is too thick, too intoxicating. Paige’s hand moves higher again, her fingers creeping closer and closer, sending a rush of heat through you. You swallow hard, your breath coming quicker now, and she glances at you from the corner of her eye, her smirk deepening.

Her hand stills, fingers resting just shy of where you’re aching for her to touch, and she leans in ever so slightly, her lips close to your ear as she whispers, “You okay?”

The teasing lilt in her voice makes your pulse race even faster, and you nod, barely able to form a coherent thought with the way she’s making you feel. “Yeah,” you breathe out, your voice shaky.

Just as the word left your mouth, Paige slid her hands all the way up to your clothed pussy. Your breath hitched, head falling back on the couch. Paige let out a small laugh, shaking her head as she averts her gaze back to the game.

Then, she slowly moves your underwear out of the way and dips her finger in your wet cunt. You let out a gasp, causing KK to glance toward you and Paige.

“You okay, Y/N?” KK asks.

You quickly clear your throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure as KK’s eyes shift from the screen to the two of you. Paige’s hand immediately stills but she doesn’t move it away, her fingers warm and firm inside of you.

You feel your pulse pounding in your ears, the rush of heat in your cheeks impossible to hide. “Yeah, I’m good,” you manage to say, forcing a smile. “Just… uh, got a little startled by the game.”

KK narrows her eyes for a second, glancing between you and Paige but doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss. She shrugs and turns back to her screen. “You’re not even playing, Y/N. How are you getting scared?”

Ice laughs, chiming in without looking away from the screen. “Right? You’re just over there chilling while Paige’s getting absolutely wrecked.”

You let out a nervous laugh, the tension in your chest winding even tighter as Paige's finger begins moving deeper inside of you, biting your lip to stifle your sounds. You’re trying your hardest to act casual, but Paige is making it impossible to focus on anything else.

Paige leans a little closer to you, her voice low and teasing as she speaks just for you to hear. “See what you do to me?” she whispers, her breath hot against your ear.

Your stomach flips, the sensation of her words paired with the way her finger is still inside you, making it harder to keep your breathing steady. Your heart is hammering, and all you can think about is where her fingers are, how much you want them to keep moving.

As if she was reading your thoughts, she began moving her finger in and out of you slowly, making you let out a sharp gasp before covering it with a cough. You glare at Paige, trying to gauge how much of this is intentional and how much of it is just her toying with you. The playful glint in her eyes tells you everything. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s enjoying every second of it. Paige’s lips quirk into a small, knowing smile, her gaze dipping to your lips for just a fraction of a second before she pulls back slightly, pretending to refocus on the game.

“You good, baby?”

“Shut up,” you mumble back as Paige raises her eyebrows, her finger stopping.

“Oh really?” Paige mumbles before you sigh, looking at her again with pleading eyes.

Ice, oblivious to the simmering tension between you and Paige, shouts as her character takes another hit. “Come on, Paige! You’re supposed to be carrying us right now!”

Paige chuckles, leaning back into the couch, but her finger doesn't leave you. If anything, her finger curl just a bit, and she casts you a quick glance from the corner of her eye. You shift under the blanket, trying not to draw any more attention to yourself, but the way she’s touching you makes your body buzz. She finally begins moving her finger in and out of you again, her movements sharp and increasing in speed.

“You okay over there?” Paige asks again, her voice low and intimate, sending another rush of heat through you. Her question is laced with double meaning, and she knows it.

You bite your lip, glancing toward KK and Ice, who are still fully engrossed in the game, before whispering back, “I’m not so sure.”

Paige’s smirk grows wider, her finger practically slamming into you at this point. “You don’t look okay.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, letting out another quiet sigh. You're glad that KK and Ice are so engrossed or else, you both would've gotten caught so quick. Paige added another finger into your wetness, practically fucking you at this point. You felt that familiar knot in your lower stomach, your thighs squeezing together─however, Paige's hand forces them open.

Just as the knot snaps, Ice’s loud shout suddenly breaks through the moment. “YES! Finally got that dub!”

You were breathing heavily as you came down from the high, your head falling back onto the couch in exhaustion. KK and Ice cheers, the room filled with excited energy, and Paige finally pulls her fingers away, the absence of her touch leaving your skin tingling. She sits back, grinning like nothing had just happened, completely composed while you’re left trying to catch your breath.

“About time,” Paige laughs, tossing her controller onto the table. She stretches, her arm casually draping across the back of the couch behind you as the others celebrate their win. Her fingers brush lightly against your shoulder, and you glance at her, your heart still racing, as she gives you a subtle wink.

───

The day of the game arrives, and the energy around campus feels electric. You've been anticipating this for days, ever since Paige handed you her jersey and encouraged you to go all out. You weren't sure if she was serious at first, but when you saw the glint of excitement in her eyes, you knew she meant it.

So, you spent the night before working on a poster, trying to make it perfect. The bold letters of her name stand out against the glittering background, and you added a few extra touches—hearts, basketball doodles, a playful nickname you call her when no one’s listening that she swears she hated (her blushing pink cheeks beg to differ).

Now, you’re standing in front of the mirror, her jersey slipping over your shoulders, fitting perfectly. It’s loose and comfortable, and the weight of it feels significant—like you’re carrying a part of her with you. You smooth it out, glancing at your reflection. The deep blue of the fabric contrasts against your skin, and the bold “BUECKERS” across the back makes you feel like you’re stepping into a role you were always meant to play. Your heart races, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling in your chest.

When you finally make your way to the gym, the crowd is already forming, a sea of people moving toward the bleachers. You clutch the poster in your hands, trying to keep it from bending as you navigate through the packed hallways. With each step, your anticipation builds, thinking about how Paige will react when she sees you. You find a spot close to the front, just behind the benches, and settle in, your fingers gripping the edge of the poster as you wait for the game to begin.

The gym fills quickly, the hum of conversations mixing with the squeak of shoes and the sharp dribble of basketballs on hardwood. You scan the court, searching for her, and then—there she is. Paige steps onto the floor with her team for warmups, her long stride purposeful, her gaze focused. She’s all business right now, the way she always is before a game, completely locked in.

You catch her looking up into the stands, scanning the crowd, and then her eyes find yours. Even from a distance, you can see the instant change in her expression. Her lips twitch into a grin, her eyes lighting up like the sun breaking through clouds. You hold up the poster, and the smile that spreads across her face is worth every second you spent making it.

Paige stops in the middle of the court, her teammates laughing and calling her name, but she’s not paying attention to any of them. She’s looking at you. For a second, it’s like the entire gym falls away, and it’s just the two of you in that moment—her in her uniform, her jersey number flashing as she moves, and you in the stands, proudly wearing her name on your back. You lift the poster higher, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt, and she shakes her head, laughing as she mouths something to you.

You think she says, you're crazy, but the look on her face says otherwise. She’s completely smitten, and it shows in every inch of her expression.

Warmups end, and the game is about to start. The lights in the gym dim slightly, and the crowd roars as the players take their positions on the court. Your heart pounds in your chest, excitement thrumming through your veins. You’ve been to her games before, but this time feels different. This time, you’re not just a spectator. You’re part of it—you’re part of her.

As the game progresses, you cheer louder than you ever have, your voice raw from shouting her name, your arms aching from holding up the poster for so long. But none of that matters. You’re so caught up in the game, in every pass, every shot, every steal Paige makes. She’s everywhere, weaving through defenders like it’s second nature, sinking threes with that effortless precision she’s known for. The crowd chants her name, but you swear she’s only hearing yours.

At halftime, the teams gather at the benches, and Paige catches your eye again. She’s breathless, sweat dripping down her face, but she winks at you before grabbing her water bottle. That one little gesture sends a wave of warmth through you, and you know, without a doubt, that she’s been playing this hard, this fiercely, for you.

When the final buzzer sounds and her team wins, the gym erupts into cheers, but your focus is still on her. Paige is swarmed by her teammates, hugs and high-fives flying in every direction, but her eyes are searching for you. When she finally breaks free from the crowd, she jogs over to the stands, and without hesitation, she makes a beeline for you.

You can barely react before she reaches up, grabbing the front of the bleachers and pulling herself up effortlessly to where you are. She’s panting, still glowing from the win, but she’s grinning like she’s just won the lottery.

“You wore it,” she says, her voice breathless but full of joy.

You hold out your arms, letting her take in the sight of you in her jersey, the poster still clutched in one hand. “Of course I did.”

Paige shakes her head, leaning closer until her forehead is pressed against yours. She smells like sweat and adrenaline, and you can feel the heat radiating off of her, but none of that matters. It’s just the two of you again, in this tiny bubble where nothing else exists.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” she murmurs, her hand slipping to the back of your neck, fingers tracing lightly against your skin.

You shrug, trying to play it cool even though your heart is racing. “Well, I had to show up for my girl, didn’t I?”

Paige laughs softly, the sound low and warm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love it.”

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her smile softening, and there’s something tender in the way she looks at you that makes your breath catch. “Yeah,” she whispers, brushing her lips against your cheek. “I really do.”

In that moment, with her jersey clinging to your back, her arms wrapped around you, and the crowd still buzzing with excitement around you, everything feels right. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be—by her side, both of you wrapped in the kind of love that makes everything else fade into the background.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[elixirfromthestars]

Usual

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Florist!Reader

Summary: Bucky keeps to his usual routine every week. On Mondays, it includes you.

Word Count: ~700

Warning(s): none. fluffy goodness <3 established nickname ⟶ tulip

a/n: This Bucky has been swimming in my head for a while, so this little drabble came out as a result. Hope you enjoyed reading! Feedback is always appreciated 🤍 Also I'm hosting a little writing challenge if you want to check it out. 🤍

the whole collection ♡

The bells above your shop door chimed a short melody as it opened. The steady thud of heavy boots followed suit. You turn to face the entrance with your usual welcoming demeanor. 

It was Monday. He always comes on Monday. 

“ Hey, Bucky. Here for the usual?” You ask like clockwork, already knowing the answer. 

“ ‘Course, Tulip,” he replies, smiling at you with that usual twinkle in his eyes. The one that only shows up when he talks to you. You can’t help the way your heart skips a beat when he uses that nickname he gave you months ago. 

“ Coming right up,” you respond, turning to the small shelves behind the counter. The ones lined up with your homemade jams and honeys. Every Monday he buys three of each to serve at his bar in a mix of different snack dishes. 

His favorite happens to be the one he named after you—Tulip’s Sweet Special.  

Bucky strolls over to the flowers that align the walls adjacent to the front counter. Rows upon rows of an array of colors and different-sized petals. A rainbow of the prettiest blooms nature has to offer. 

Meanwhile, you’re putting the mason jars of sweet spreads in a small wicker basket. Glancing at him briefly to stare at his side profile and the way he looks at the flowers intently. Almost as if waiting for them to speak to him. 

You wonder what flowers he’ll choose today. 

You don’t have to wonder for long as he walks over to the counter with a bouquet of white and pink daises, adorned with a touch of lavender. You look at them with a knowing smile on your face. The rugged biker almost looks comical—in the sweetest way—with the bouquet in hand. 

“ Will that be all?” You ask him, motioning to the flowers and the goods in the basket. Bucky nods, lightly scratching at the stubble on his face,“ That’s all, Tulip. And I’ll get ya that basket of yours later. Forgot it back at the bar,” he mentions the basket he borrowed a week ago to transport last week’s items on his bike. 

Of course, he forgot it. He always does. 

“ No need. I’ll just come by the bar later and get it,” you say to him—this little forgetful exchange an excuse to see each other again. It's about the fifth time you’ve done this little rendezvous in the last two months. 

Bucky grins in a way that would make any woman swoon,“ I’ll be waitin’ on ya then.” You can’t help the warmth that finds its way to your face. 

You ring him up, and as you’re getting his change ready he places the flowers in the empty vase on the counter. The one you leave for whatever flowers he buys for you that week. You look at them and the way he delicately places them inside, with a tender care you were one of a handful of people who’s ever seen him dawn. The action envelopes you with a doting affection.

“ Thank you for the flowers, Bucky,” you say with a soft sincerity. No matter how many times he buys you flowers the action still causes your heart to flutter.

“ No need for the thanks—or the change,” he says, lightly closing your fingers around the change in your hand with his calloused one. The slight touch is electric and it makes you both yearn for more. 

You give him that look. That usual look that says you’re doing this again and he replies with a look that conveys hell yeah I am.

You know better than to argue with that look. 

“ Come spend it at my bar later instead,” he suggests shrugging nonchalantly—but his eyes and grin reflect everything but nonchalance. There’s a deep rooted sentiment there that is desperate to be freed and brought to the surface.

You hum, pretending to think about it,“ Alright, deal.” Bucky responds to your agreement by giving you a pleased nod.

Bucky grabs the basket of goods. The rough exterior of his hands contrasted with the gentle almost tender way he held the basket. He was always delicate and careful with anything that belonged to you.

The basket looked so much smaller when he held it. 

Bucky sends you a farewell wink,“ See ya later, Tulip,” and then he turns to leave with a small wave of his hand.

“ See you later, Bucky,” you reply before leaning on the counter, hands resting in your palms. You watch him walk back out to his motorcycle with a longing stare. 

When he was out of sight, you listened intently to the revving of his engine bike, anticipating the day you two would go past the usual.

Until then you’d cherish this routine affair.

[cristaq]

“If you are reading this Mac, it means I am dead. It also means that you still are a nosy bastard.”

Captain MacMillan slowly makes his way through the WW3 remembrance monument. Thousands of ceremonial tombstones riddle the landscape, demanding silence and respect. This is a place where only ghosts may speak.

“I guess there is not much to say that you don’t already know. Assaulting Makarov’s place was intentionally reckless and I went there with the expectation that I would die. I wanted to die. I couldn’t survive the peaceful times that were to come without him, Mac. Loved him too fucking much. So, in a sense, you were right. He was the death of me in the end.”

He eventually reaches his destination. Row 11, column 85.

 “I will get to the point. Unfortunately for you, I must call in any favours you still owe me. Firstly, I suppose they never found Soap’s body. Burn mine then, and scatter what’s left. I will do the rest and find him on my own.”

All tombstones in the monument bear the name of a soldier, but this one’s special as it has two names hyphenated on it. John MacTavish - John Price.

“Secondly, pull whatever strings you need to, but make sure that wherever they decide to write down our names, they are placed together. His name should always come first.”

The media covered this story for a whole month. The same peculiarity can be found on the clock tower in Hereford, where the names of fallen SAS soldiers are placed. Everyone’s name stands written alone, except for these two.

“Lastly, I don’t want you to miss us. So name one of your grandkids John, will you?”

He lights up a candle and places it on the warm stone.

“I wasn’t one to believe in the afterlife. Soap managed to convince me though… and I intend to find him there. That’s my happy ending. Thanks for everything and take care.

Price”

Two robins land on the headstone, chirping and hopping. It’s truly a beautiful day outside. Somehow, MacMillan truly believes that the two men are reunited up there somewhere.

[starrieangel]

🎄❤️Mouthwashing Crew on Christmas💚🎁

Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday ♡ Here's my present to you all: more headcanons!!

Features: Curly x Reader, Anya x Reader, Daisuke x Reader, Jimmy x Reader

rb's appreciated! 💚❤️

Curly☃️

I think Curly would love surprising you..!

He's up before you, already has the coffee (or hot chocolate or tea) ready for you when you wake up. 

When you finally get out of bed, there's extra presents under the tree, and the tree is even more festive and beautiful than how you left it!!

(Is Curly Santa..??)

He's not materialistic in the slightest, but a good gift means a lot to Curly if it shows you put a lot of thought into it..! It makes him feel special that you are thinking about him ^u^

He's a good gift giver, but bad at wrapping them XD He's trying his best ok !!!

After opening presents, you guys cuddle and watch your favorite goofy christmas movie while cuddled up in your new sweaters/socks/blankets :)

His favorite part of Christmas is Christmas dinner tho, and you guys whip up a big feast and invite all your friends and family !!! 

He’s the classic “my boyfriend only cooks meat” stereotype, like he cant cook but he will fuck up a christmas ham or a thanksgiving turkey or a barbecue.. let him cook fr

Bonus: Curly is definitely the Santa at the office Christmas party..!! Maybe you get to sit on Santa's lap ;D 

Anya❄️

Panicking because she's bad at getting gifts..!! 

She gets to the store and.. oh no there's too many choices

“I'm not sure what candy Y/N likes... I'll just get one of each.. oh dear..”

She would try making handmade gifts like sewing or knitting or crochet but she doesn't get them done til the last minute...

She dang near cries when you see the itchy, raggedy sweater she made you and you beam at her “I love it!!!” and you do! because she made it ♡

I feel like she likes peppermints and candy canes... just her vibe

You two make a gingerbread house together !!

Yes it falls apart a little, but it doesn't matter because you both had so much fun making it :) (and decorating it with all that candy she bought !!)

Bonus: She is a based eggnog drinker. And maybe she does spike her and Daisuke's eggnog at the office Christmas party ;D

Daisuke🎁

Ugly Christmas Sweater Party Winner 3 years in a row

(I like the popular headcannon that Daisuke likes thrifting, so) He loves going to the thrift to find ugly christmas sweaters (so you can match) and even finding cool antiques/retro items to give as gifts!

Always gives at least one prank gift, but otherwise he is pretty thoughtful! 

He doesn't get you a present unless it really reminds him of you! I feel like he gifts thrifted vinyls and jewelry, secondhand designer, like his gifts are honestly peak and they're always perfect for you

He's in charge of the Christmas party!! and he's committed to packing as many christmas themed activities into it as possible

Dedicated Christmas Movie Showing, gotta watch all the classics!

Hot chocolate bar, christmas cookie buffet, pin the nose on the reindeer, ALL OF IT 

Strategically ties mistletoe to ensure highest occurrence of Kissing You ;3 “Uh, oh, Y/N! Looks like we're caught under the mistletoe.. again! How unlucky.. guess we'll have to.. you knowww..” >:3c

Bonus: He would get tipsy at the office christmas party and would try to hug you or kiss you the whole time, and you’re like “plz ur embarrassing me”

Jimmy🎄

Jimmy is actually really good at getting gifts. Like, really good. Like, you mentioned this thing in passing 6 months ago, and he either remembered it or bought it for you and hid it for 6 months. He knows exactly what to get you!

He's not really a huge fan of the holidays

That being said: He enforces Mistletoe rules like it's his job

Everyone thinks he's a grinch, so he doesn't usually get the best presents from others. It doesn't help that he never makes a christmas list or tell anyone what he wants 

(mostly because he doesn't want to be disappointed when he asks for something and doesn't get it, or he's afraid to ask for something “dorky” that he actually really wants)

When you ask him what he wants for christmas, he just kind of shrugs and says he'll like whatever you get him

So it's extra special when you return the favor and get him a gift just as thoughtful as he gave you :) You get him the video game or album or band tee (idk what men like) that he offhandedly mentioned weeks ago :) He can't hold in his surprise that you remembered!

“Woah, babe! I can't believe you remembered.. This is perfect, thank you baby” And then he wraps you into a tight hug!

Bonus: Yea, Jimmy had to fill in as Santa one year when Curly was busy/sick....... He made a kid cry.

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know in the replies what you think, send an ask if you have a request, and rb if u liked! Thanks for reading!💚❤️

Merry Christmas!! ☃️💚🎄❤️❄️❤️🎄💚🎁☃️❄️❤️❄️❤️🎄💚

[silkenwinger]

would do crazy, unspeakable things to get TA Gaz's attention. he's just so nice. never playing favourites, necessarily: his attention is always divided evenly. after all, he is a tutor figure for an hard class, and all of you need help. and while you're scared shitless of price, you know you can count on gaz's calm tone to tell you what you wrote wrong. never judging. understanding. encouraging.

it's not just his behavior, of course. have you looked at him? he's top 10 most handsome men you've ever talked to. wait, more like top 5. okay realistically he's the best looking one. and you're not the only one to get lost in his eyes, either. you hear hushed whispers of fuck me behind you when he stretches mid hour. you telepathically send whoever said that a strong mental message of stay away from my man.

as for your relationship... well. you've been working really hard on building a particular rapport. by that you mean you sit in the first row, greet him immediately, and try to come up with at least one question per session. looking hard for things to ask him has led you to a vast amount of knowledge you really don't need to pass this class, to the point you know you're getting glares from the other students. it's hard to be more forthright: you wish you could, but you're still somewhat inhibited by everything about him. for christmas, you brought him some homemade cookies, saying you made them for all TAs (absolutely false). gaz had smiled that absolutely devastating smile that made you weak in the knees. your five attempts and hours wasted had given you something back!

you've convinced yourself what you've going on is special. gaz (and oh my god, the day he told you (aka the class) you could call him that instead of mr garrick was the highlight of the month) knows your name and asks how you're doing frequently, which has completely revolutioned your world. you spend two hours getting ready every time you have to see him. when you saw him in the distance while you were talking with another classmate from another course, you almost threw the poor guy from the corridor balcony to not be seen with him.

of course, your friends call you fucking delusional, short of telling you you have absolutely no chances with him, but hope never flees true warriors' hearts.

eventually, all good things come to an end. price's class ends, you submit your long ass essay, and you don't see gaz as frequently anymore. you almost cried the last session, with him telling you all that he was kinda sad to let you go and that he was sure your final would go well. he'd even touched your shoulder! it would have been hard not to hug him if you hadn't been paralyzed by his touch in the first place.

one day, checking your results, you see that alongside price's grade there is a considerably longer email. the professor is telling you that he's seriously impressed with your essay, and that his TA, recommending you, wants to work with you on a project related to the class.

a project.

with gaz.

alone!

(part 2 here)

a/n: for both mine and your peace of mind, please tell me if this is wildly inaccurate for british universities! i'm basing the TA role as it exists in my country: someone (usually freshly graduate or about to be) who leads a secondary course for a major class, that can deal with redoing what has been done in class, solving students' doubts, in depth discussion, etc. i think this blurb will stay this way anyway, but if i ever want to write something longer on the topic 👀, i'd like to know how stuff actually works in the country it is set in lol

[namism]

Request: Hi, I was wondering if you could write about Mihawk x civillian reader and about how their relationship would work with him being the world's strongest swordsman and the reader being an ordinary civillian with no fighting skills, no haki and no devil fruit? Thank you for taking the time for reading my message. 🙃

not a hero, lover | dracule mihawk

➳ categories: canonverse, gender neutral civilian reader, failed kidnapping scenario

➳ word count: 1.5k

➳ summary: Running into the face of danger is a price you pay for dating the world's strongest swordsman and Warlord of the Sea, Dracule Mihawk.

➳ notes: i wasn't too sure about this so i might write headcanons next time. thank you for requesting! 🍷

➳ cross-posted on ao3

Years after Mihawk was globally recognized as the "Strongest Swordsman in the World," he found himself getting bored.

There was no competition, no enemy who wanted to challenge him because everyone feared him (pirates, Marines, and civilians alike) beyond the perilous waters of the Grand Line. Even as he searched far and wide for an opponent worthy of fighting, no one ever came close.

So he took the peace that came with it, the solitude that came with being feared by all and many, as well as the privileges of a Warlord who was untouchable by the Marines and wandered out and about. He was vacationing in islands in the East Blue, sometimes the North, and regularly the Grand Line to find something that interested him. That was when he met you.

As a vineyard owner, you were popular among the locals of your town for cultivating a special cultivar of the common grapevine. You had hectares of land, and you sold the best wine. Mihawk was interested the moment he stumbled upon your stand at the bay market, and knowing himself, he couldn't resist purchasing a bottle.

Although one bottle became two, and two bottles became four. There was something about the wine you sold that made him come back for more, sailing off to your town on days when he needed to restock, until you decided one day that he was a loyal customer.

On his eighth visit, he realized he had a problem.

Or rather, problems. He had a drinking problem and a crush problem.

He was disgusted. Not by you, but with himself.

Mihawk had no business calling anyone a crush at his age. He was in his 40s and it revolted him every time he thought of having a "crush"—but unlike his drinking problem, it was an issue that could be resolved with a simple meeting, a simple question.

Mihawk took the liberty of visiting once more on a random evening. As you were closing down, he waited at the corner street until you were ready to settle for the night.

When you emerged, Mihawk caught you by surprise and introduced himself for the first time. He expected you to run amok and start a panic among the civilians, but you giggled to yourself and invited him over. The next thing he knew, he was looking into the horizon, admiring the stretch of land that housed rows and rows of the cultivar he loved. He was silent as he admired the sight, but he didn't tell you that.

Instead, he told you how good your wine tasted, that it tasted complex on his palate after he swallowed and waited for the aftertaste. Then he dropped the question.

"Would you like to go out sometime?" he asked.

You were surprised.

But you accepted.

It still feels like yesterday, even though a lot has changed. It has only been five months or so, yet Mihawk visits every week whenever he can, sometimes more when he's bored. He stays at your place on nights when you can't sleep alone, and you spend it on the hill overlooking your vineyard with some late-night wine. Mihawk has to be more careful now that he's committed to you, as he would be attracting criminals left and right. While his Warlord status keeps the Marines and weaker pirates at bay, he's positive that trouble will come regardless. If they aren't after him, they would be after you.

You suppose it's a price you pay for dating him. Although you hope to steer clear of danger, you wouldn't give up your lover for anything.

"I should teach you," Mihawk suggests one day as you walk across the vineyard, his fingers intertwined with yours.

"Teach me what?" you ask.

"How to hold a sword," he says. "How to fight. You live too close to the town that pirates roam often. You must learn how to protect yourself."

"Hmm. I'll think about it."

Born an ordinary human, you have not once faced danger in your life. Nothing ever called for the need for combat, swordsmanship, or the arcane power of the Haki unlike the pirates who sail the seas. You come from a place of privilege, but it soothes your nerves that your life is peaceful.

Mihawk warned you several times that he was going to bring trouble before dating you, yet it didn't bother you one bit despite your lacking abilities. You knew he was strong and you trusted him. He can protect you on his own just fine even if you aren't skilled at fighting.

Well, not quite.

Tonight is one of those nights when you can't sleep a wink, so you invited Mihawk over who didn't need much convincing to come. As you arrive at the hill where you spend most nights together in secret, you notice something strange.

A gust of wind blows west. The smell of fire wafts in the air, followed by the scent of burnt grass. You hold your lantern out in the dark. You're close to the hill's peak where no one rarely goes, yet something feels bizarre.

You sniff the air. The scent is awfully close. When you trudge up the hill and reach the very top, your eyes land on the remains of a campfire under a mahogany tree. Two cups of steel lay on the ground empty like someone was just here with another, the other cup knocked over like someone had just scampered away.

You shudder.

You and Mihawk never made a fire. No one else should even have access to this place besides you.

Suddenly, a man pounces on you from behind.

"Ahhh! Let go of me!" you wail as you struggle against his grip. A big man who can overpower you, he binds your hands together with a rope and throws you over his shoulder. "Ugh! Please—"

A second shadow emerges from your peripheral vision. Holding a rope, he binds your feet together and poorly stuffs a cloth in your mouth. Squirming, you spit out the cloth. He forces a hand on your face to still you, but you bite down on him, causing him to pull away.

"Why, you little—"

"Help!" you scream at the top of your lungs. The other man tries to suppress you, but you wrestle out of his clutch. "Mihawk! Someone, please— ew, don't touch me!"

"Just shut up already!" He slaps you across the face, and you quiet down. His accomplice snatches the cloth and ties it around your mouth.

"Shit at fighting, but amazing at biting." He grimaces as he looks down at his bleeding hand. "Stupid one! Couldn't get your man to teach you how to fight, so you bite people?!"

You thrash around and howl suppressed cries. He points downhill with a weak finger.

"Pack it up. We'll leave before anyone hears."

As they trek down the hill, you start to accept your fate. They're burglars. You've seen them in the newspaper a long time ago when they made it to the local news. They primarily targeted property owners and emporiums, but you were out of their radar because your vineyard was two blocks down the constabulary. Now that you're associated with Mihawk (and news of his frequent visits has spread among the island felons), they suppose they can get him by taking you hostage, even if it meant waking the constables in the middle of the night.

"Sorry, but hear what, exactly?"

In just a split second, the man holding you falls to his knees and lets you go. You stumble backward helplessly as he screams in agony. Blood seeps through his vest, a pool of liquid collecting on the grass under which he lays. Suddenly, a gust zips past you, and the man's accomplice gets down. Mihawk cuts across his chest and fluidly swings his sword to pierce through him.

Your eyes close in fear. You inch away from the man below you and fiddle with the knot that fastens your hands.

A few feet away, Mihawk scoffs.

"'Before anyone hears?' Anyone would have figured it out by now. You fools run around like mice."

"Mihawk!" you exclaim. He quickly runs over to you and helps you out of your plight. As your limbs break free, you untie the cloth around your mouth and lean into your lover. "Good god, I was so scared! I thought you wouldn't come, I—"

"I'm sorry," he says exasperatedly. He strokes your cheek softly with his fingers, eyes casting downward. "Were you hurt?"

You shake your head. "No. Just horrified."

He sighs.

"I'm afraid we can't stay here. If they find these two gone, they will look for you," he says. "Did you lock up the yard?"

"Yes," you say. "Why?"

"Come to Kuraigana with me."

"Like, where you live? I-I'll leave with you?"

He pats your head gently. "Just for tonight, my dear. We'll be back in the morning when it's safer."

You breathe out. Mihawk expects an answer.

"Fine. Take me with you."

Mihawk offers a hand and hoists you from the ground. At that moment, you lean into him for a hug as you look away from the lifeless bodies below your feet. A shudder runs through your back once again.

"Thank you for saving me, hero," you tease. Mihawk almost chokes on his spit as he cringes, but he keeps you close to his chest.

"Not a hero. Just your lover," he corrects. "Anyway, about that training I was telling you a month ago..."

"I'm in. Please, go and lead the way."

[machveil]

Today’s thought:

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas (except for our marriage that part is very much coming home with us) scenario:

Idk, just thinking about the various guys going out to party in Vegas (maybe after a lengthy job being successful, maybe a birthday or something) only to wake up married (like actually legally binding married, not just a joke wedding officiated by Elvis) to the person they’ve been eyeing for a while now, not having the slightest idea what happened the previous night.

-🐸

Also I saw that art, I need yall to know I almost shrieked in the middle of the very quiet lab I work in.

[post writing note: so many words… very sleepy now] oh, you know I have to include Horangi in a Vegas fic🎲ヽ(´▽`)/🃏✨

Vegas Wedding Bells

what’s the worse that can happen after celebrating in Vegas? going back to spend your honeymoon at base? Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, König, Kim “Horangi” Hong-jin CW: fem!reader, getting married while intoxicated, suggestive

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

the dull ache in his head was the first thing he noticed as he woke up, bright beams of light aggravating a headache as he groans. the body tucked against him was the second thing he noticed, bare skin warmed by bare skin. that caught his attention

when Johnny decided Simon - the birthday boy - needed to loosen up for his special day he scoffed, “‘M turnin’ thirty-two, Soap. I don’t do birthday parties.”. he thought that all the way to America, grumbling when the team boarded the plane. his two saving graces were getting an aisle seat and sitting next to you

“Ghost, it’s not that bad.”, you chuckle, watching as he crosses his arms - for a man that large and intimidating, he was acting like a pouting child. “Could be havin’ a beer at the pub.”, he remarks, eyebrows knit as someone’s carry-on bumps his shoulder, “Soap’s lucky I ‘aven’t wrung his neck.”

the flight itself wasn’t so bad, no crying children or loud snoring. by the time the flight landed at Harry Reid it was dark out, Johnny dragging everyone towards the hotel. you barely had time to shower and change before you were wrangled out to a casino. “Soap, m’not gamblin’.”, Simon huffed, looming next to the Scot as they passed row after row of slot machines

Simon held true to his word - he didn’t gamble. he got shitfaced

the night went by in slow motion, bleary eyes and drunken laughter ringing throughout the group. Simon didn’t know when it happened - when he got separated from the group, when he took your hand in his and left the building. he didn’t remember whisking you away to the nearest church - a real church, he didn’t remember gruffly asking for someone to officiate the sudden ceremony. he definitely didn’t remember shaking down some poor stranger on the street to be your witness, “Gotta— we gotta ‘ave someone watch… yeah? I’ll uh— I’ll grab someone, lovie.”

but, as you moved in his arms, the glint of a pretty little gem on your finger had his eyes widening. moving slowly, trying not to wake you, he lifts he own hand - a gold band snug against his ring finger. it’s not like you weren’t close to Simon, quite the opposite

he’d been meaning to ask you out for a few months, never quite working up the nerve to. now? he’s cussing himself out in his head - married before the first date, drunken vows. your back is to his chest, arms cradling a pillow as you sleep. it’s only when you yawn and shift in his arms does he completely freeze, your tired eyes looking up at him

it doesn’t help when you snuggle up to him, eyes closing as you tuck yourself against his chest. heart hammering, he wouldn’t be surprised if you heard it. at a loss for words, his gaze travels back to his ring adorned finger - fuck, would you be pissed when you realize? he’s liked you for so long and he blows it by marrying you in Vegas?

“Simon?”, you murmur, turning in his arms, chest to chest - still skin to skin, “What time is it?”, a groan leaving your throat as the sun peaks out from behind his hotel room’s curtains. he can’t bring himself to look down, your bare chest to his. when he tries to shift back a little, aiming to sit up, does he realize a third thing - when had he taken off his mask?

dirty blonde, close-cropped hair messy against his pillow. scarred skin bare for your view. nervous brown eyes looking down at your sleepy form

he doesn’t know what to say, too much information being realized all at once. it doesn’t help when you hum softly, rubbing the corner of your eye, soft-spoken words leaving your lips - his cheeks heating up and hands a little sweaty at your words

“S’not nice to ignore the missus, Simon.”, you say, voice raspy with exhaustion

John “Soap” MacTavish:

it was a short deployment, but it had TF141 scrambling to stay alive - practically a week in hell. a hail of gunfire on Tuesday, a close call Wednesday, the group getting separated for two days. it was a miracle that everyone made it back in one piece with just scrapes and bruises

it was a mumbled joke - you didn’t think it would be taken seriously, “We’re lucky as hell, should take a trip to Vegas, huh?”. despite the aching muscles the group sustained, bumps and bruises, you were swept away to an airport. it was too early for this, but it was too late to back out - Price and his need to get to the airport at four in the morning

“S’not that bad, bonnie.”, Johnny shrugged, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he tucked you against his side. between Johnny and Kyle’s chipper mood, Simon’s grumbling, and Price double checking passports and tickets, you were content to just go along, “Soap, I love you, but it’s too early for this.”

he laughed, a little too loud for the early morning crowd - you didn’t catch the way his cheeks heated up though. “Lighten up, mo ghaol.”, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips when he heard you confusingly mutter, “Mo ghaol?”, under your breath. he’d tell you what that meant in the future

the flight itself was fine, Johnny sat behind you. he made it a little game - passing notes up to you from between the chairs, giving the back of your seat a nudge every once in a while. when he passed out halfway through the flight you caught a couple hours of peace… if you could ignore his snoring

by the time the plane landed and everyone was settling down in the hotel, Johnny was raring to go. quick knocks on your door followed by him calling your name - a little too loud for this time of night

Kyle was busy unpacking while Simon and Price had retired to bed - poor John, all alone and left to his own devices. he already had a plan, taking your hand in his and dragging you out of the hotel. a fun night of bar hopping and getting tipsy, his treat

Johnny was confused when he woke up in a hotel room - definitely not the one either of you checked into with the group— wait, what’re you doing wedged against his side? he tried to sit up, the sharp pain in his temple making him stop. how much did he drink? he was at a bar with you, then he blinked and woke up here

bringing his hand up to rub his face, Johnny pauses when he feels cool metal touch his cheek. pulling his hand back a little, his eyebrows shoot up when he sees the ring on his finger - freezing when he remembers— oh no

he’s sitting up quickly, the pain in his head be damned. looking down at you, oh, you looked so peaceful, his breath hitches. there on your cute little ring finger, a matching gold band with a pretty little gemstone. “Ah— shit.”, he mumbles, mind a little fuzzy as snippets of the night come to the forefront of his mind

married - legally wed at the church around the corner. some dingy little say-the-vows wedding house wouldn’t do for you. Johnny, sweeping you both off in a drunken stupor, insisted that you deserved a real, good old fashioned church wedding… not before swinging into a jewelry shop

sloppy vows and dopey smiles exchanged, he was carrying you out the door. never made it back to the hotel Price booked - he couldn’t remember which way it was. instead, Johnny booked an overpriced honeymoon suite somewhere else - champagne bottle cracked open as he kissed your cheek

and now he’s looking down at you as you stir, tired eyes blinking open. it’s not like he regrets marrying you - he would love to marry you, he just wish he had gotten to the dating bit first. there was an awkward silence as you slowly took in the scene - Johnny, his shirt tossed somewhere in a forgotten corner, seated next to you in bed. an unfamiliar, albeit light, weight to your ring finger

when you finally meet his gaze, his grins - a slight, nervous glint in his eyes as you sit up too. “Ah— we— I mean, didnae think that—“, he coughs, stumbling over his words, trying to find something to say. married to one of his closest friends in Vegas of all places, he’s wracking his brain for a coherent sentence - eyes wide when you look down at your newly gilded finger

“Jumping the gun on getting married, huh?”, you smile, voice sleepy as you glance up at him. pausing, your eyebrows knit slightly as you glance around, “Where exactly are we, John?”

König:

König, for all his cockiness and bravado on duty as a Colonel, was less than thrilled to be flying to Vegas. was he proud of his teammates on their latest deployment? of course, did he want to be crammed in a small airplane seat with no leg room? absolutely not

being flown in and out of deployments is one thing, fitting himself in a seat meant for someone half his size was another. sniper hood replaced with a black medical mask and baseball cap, he was putting up with the flight for his friends - and you. was he going to spend money in Vegas? not if he could help it, “Nein, gambling is a waste of money. You can lose your own savings, Horangi.”, he scoffed, turning down the offer to bet when they landed

instead, König spent a majority of the night in a booth with you - drinking and watching your fellow teammates lose money. it wasn’t long before the multiple fruity cocktails got to König, a large hand on the small of your back as he ushered you outside the casino

the pounding in his head woke him up, throat dry and eyes bleary. the last thing he remembered was laughing with you on the streets of Vegas. as he moved to shift, to tug the covers up and hide against his pillow, he paused - registering the small hand on his chest, the warmth tucked against his side

swallowing, he glances down. he nearly chokes on his spit when he sees you sleeping against him, wedged between his body and the covers. headache suddenly forgotten, his mind swirls with different thoughts - had he slept with you? had you clung to him all night? are you going to be disgusted with him when you wake up? did you always have that ring on your finger—

wait. oh no

gaze glued to the ring on your finger - beautiful gem snug on the band - König’s mind suddenly goes blank. when he raises his own hand only to see a matching ring all those questions flood back as his chest tightens

surely you both hadn’t drank that much. he can barely remember leaving the casino though, he doesn’t remember whisking you away to a church - saying slurred vows and promises to each other. what’s worse? you weren’t together to begin with

sure, König has been pining for you, yearning to call you his and vice versa. to be married now? there’s butterflies in his stomach, but his chest is tight with anxiety. you were close colleagues, closer friends, and he carried you back to the hotel as his bride? you were going to kill him when you woke up, he was sure

when you mumbled something he froze, muscles tense as you hugged him closer. “Mm, König?”, sleepy voice coated with raspiness, it feels like the wind got knocked out of him, “König?”. his eyes darted down to meet yours, hands shaky as they clutch the sheets

“Ah— ja, Maus?”, voice strained, he awkwardly glances away. when he feels you cuddle up to his side, a small peck placed to his chest, he’s sure he’s died - or maybe he’s still asleep, blacked out from the booze. “You’re so warm.”, your voice, small and sweet, has him dizzy before he realizes what you’ve said

dead silent, he can’t help the flustered feeling in his heart, cheeks heating up. maybe everything can be normal? sure, you’re married, but— but what if you just ignored that? yeah, maybe König won’t lose you when you fully realize what’s happened… probably not, but the thought is nice

it’s a few minutes before you speak again, he’s sure the silence is comfortable for you - he’s overthinking what’s happened, what happens next, what happens on the flight back, what happens—

“Can’t wait to wake up every day like this.”, you sleepily murmur. it has König’s mind going silent - every day? you wanted to wake up with him every day—

Kim “Horangi” Hong-jin:

he really shouldn’t gamble. he’s shit at it, he doesn’t want to risk owing more than he can pay, but damnit! it’s Las Vegas - how can he not gamble? the city was practically made for him. lights, dice, cards, cash? like a moth to the flame, can you blame Horangi when he drags you there for his birthday?

sure, he’s been to the States before, but Sin City? he’s never had a reason to go to Nevada, but a weekend get away to celebrate? now that’s an excuse to call and bluff. it was a little hard to get everyone onboard with the idea - as much as the team enjoyed a poker night, flying to Vegas to lose money was definitely… eyebrow raising. but, when it’s for a birthday, they can suck it up and play along

the night went by quick, a mixture of card games and drinking as the group paraded behind Horangi, letting him lead them from table to table. at some point they stopped at a bar, liquor flowing and shots passed out - Horangi could hardly move when he woke up. the hangover that hit him was devastating, an uncomfortable ache behind his temple

grumbling curses as light peaked out from behind the curtains, Horangi found himself unable to move - someone wrapped snugly around him, an arm and leg draped over his body. he didn’t remember hooking up with anyone last night, then again, he didn’t remember a lot after the bar. so, when he looked down and saw you? his heart nearly stopped

“Mavsosa—“, voice strained as he freezes, his eyes flutter shut. you’re warm against him, pleasantly so, but he can’t help the guilt gnawing at his heart. did something happen? how did you two end up in his room?

but, light still streaming in from a crack in the curtains, when he opens his eyes he catches a glimmer on your ring finger. time slows down for him as he swallows - a pretty gold band with a cute little gem. when he eyes his own hand time starts flowing again, heart drumming in his chest. talk about a birthday present, he woke up with a wife

he would have been delighted to wake up as your boyfriend - maybe a tipsy confession after a shot of liquid courage, but waking up as your husband? it has his stomach twisting with nerves, but he can’t help the boyish smile that settles on his face. it seems like a silly joke, waking up wed to you

mind fuzzy as he recalls the chapel he ushered you into, hand in hand with goofy smiles, it didn’t seem too bad in the moment. while he might not be great at gambling, his charisma let him sweet talk the pastor into officiating - not his proudest moment in hindsight

and when you cling to him as you wake up, hand smoothing down his chest, he glances at you. you’ve been solid friends since he started serving, everyone knows that if you’re somewhere the other isn’t far behind. and he loves you, he really does, he just didn’t expect to see that ring on you, shiny band twinkling with the morning light

”Morning, dangsin.”, he quietly says, hoping you’ll be just as happy - maybe a little caught off guard - as him. it’s a gamble, his deep voice dripping with affection as he runs his hand through your hair, “Sleep well?”

charismatic man - while he tends to have terrible luck gambling, winning you over was easier than breathing, “Mhm, s’this our honeymoon, Kim?”, you mumble, eyeing the ring on his hand