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randombush3 · 21 days

Text

you're not sorry to go

ona batlle x reader

summary: ona and you are best friends, but it's a bit more complicated than that

words: 4.5k

notes: this one is based on true events x

also let's ignore the result of my poll because i want the next part to have smut and it wasn't fitting with the vibe of this part

oh and the title is a quote from 'this side of paradise' by f. scott fitzgerald

January, nine years ago.

Nothing about today has been out of the ordinary.

The weekend is starting, winter drags on, and Ona is all set to train later on in the evening, provided you confirm whether or not you are willing to accompany her to the local pitch.

Barcelona B usually allows for Fridays off, but Ona isn’t stupid. No one becomes the greatest footballer of all time by not playing more. School is beginning to bore Ona to death, and she knows that she wants what she always has: to go professional.

“I have a plan,” she tells you confidently, glad you don’t mind sitting on the uneven, grassy sideline as she sets up her cones with determination. You hold the ball between your hands, though Ona is amused by how foreign it looks to you, and you seem to be holding her prized possession hostage so that she spills. “It sounds simple and obvious out loud, but it’s that I am going to play for Barça while you go to the university. You can introduce me to your smart friends so I can meet my wife, and you’ll have all the boys after you anyway so–”

“Ona.” Her monologue has led her eyes to the ground, but your voice makes her head jerk upwards, not needing much authority to get her to look at you. “I’ve actually had a… realisation, of sorts,” you say with a bashful grin, chin jutting out the way it does when you are gearing up to tell her something that no one else will get to know. “Your cousin is really pretty.”

“I’ll tell her you said that.” It’s a nice thing to say, and you are partly aware that Ona’s cousin knows who you are because she doesn’t shut up about you ever, but you can’t help the frustration that begins to bubble up inside of you.

“No, Ona,” you try again, “she’s really pretty. Like, I would kiss her.”

Ona frowns, then. “Don’t be one of those.” She means the girls who experiment, who toe the line of liking girls but don’t, not really. She has been warned about them by her older teammates, the ones who go out for drinks and kiss girls in clubs. The budding footballer really admires them, because their advice is always good and she gets to explore her sexuality without feeling like a creep. No one in Vilassar de Mar cares much that Ona does like girls, but it doesn’t stop her from feeling judged all the same.

You are one of her best friends, but Ona isn’t sure she can forgive you if you become someone like that.

“I’m not! I wouldn’t do that.” Your offence is suspicious, and you have been so caught up in destroying her worries that the ball has been dropped and is now rolling towards Ona’s feet, where it is instinctively flicked upwards and caught. “I wouldn’t, Oni, because I know it’s unfair to you guys.”

“But you want to kiss my cousin? That makes you interested in girls in general too, you know.”

You bite your lip.

“Ona, I think I’m gay.”

The ball is dropped, along with her jaw, and you shift uncomfortably in your seated position, not enjoying how big of a deal she is making this out to be.

People realise that they’re gay all the time! Why should it be any different for you?

“Oh,” is all Ona can manage to breathe out, wondering what to do next. Although your friendship cracks the padlocks of most secrets, there is one that hasn’t ever been shared. One that now means substantially more than it did five minutes ago.

“Say something, please,” you groan in mock annoyance, moving aside your textbooks so that you can grab Ona’s hand and pull her down on top of you. She is much stronger – she trains every day – but something about your skin touching hers injects a surge of patheticness into her well-earned muscles, and she falls, of course she does, because she always falls for you.

…

A year passes.

You kiss Ona’s cousin, as intended, and Ona knows the breakup is going to be rough but nothing prepares her for when it comes.

She’s conflicted, and she’s older now. No longer left behind by her teammates, Ona gets to go out with them when they don’t have football; she gets to talk to the girls about their sex lives, she gets to be involved in it all. She has met Alexia Putellas and been treated like an equal, and she made out with her fourth ever girl last week, this time progressing past tongues and confidently letting her hands roam.

Ona would say that she has learnt a lot since you dropped your nuclear missile, and she has managed to forget the initial hope she had felt. The secret had been near-faded.

Until you are calling her, sending her a text when she doesn’t reach her phone quick enough.

‘Ona, I really need you.’

She hears nothing from her cousin – they were closer when they were younger – and that, she reasons, is why she is by your side in an instant, meeting you at the windy beach you go to when you are sad, hair damp from running and eyes a little wide as she tries to wake herself up.

“She said she can’t do it anymore,” you whisper, voice cracking under the strain your sobs had put on it. “She said that she really likes me but that it’s not enough, and she doesn’t want to break my heart but she knows she has to.”

Ona doesn’t get a chance to respond, because you have flung yourself into her chest before she can think of the right words to say.

Your shoulders shake as you cry, devastating howling joining the whistles of the wind and the thrash of the waves. The sand is unsteady beneath your feet and you stumble, but Ona holds you firmly, as though she has only ever trained to hold you up. Though you feel her biceps, hard and significantly larger than the last time she had held you this way, you are too caught up in your first heartbreak to acknowledge the tiny, tiny spark between you.

As you cry and cry and cry, Ona can’t help but feel a little bitter towards her cousin. Clearly, your affection wasn’t false and, though it was working towards the severance of your friendship, you actually cared quite a lot for her.

Ona chooses to abstain from her jealousy because she is embarrassed that it is possible.

She is there for you the next day, ensuring you have eaten and allowing you to sleep, but the sun soon sets and Ona vows one thing to herself: she will not take advantage of it.

“I’m going home,” you mumble when you wake from your restless nap, rolling over into the empty space in your best friend’s bed. The sheets there are cold and unused. Ona must not have moved a muscle since you fell asleep. “My parents must be a little confused, and we have people coming over for dinner. Thank you for looking after me.”

“No problem.” Ona nods and you awkwardly stand up. “I think I’m going out with the team tonight, but don’t hesitate to call me if… Well, if you feel sad again.”

“It’s going to feel shit with or without you.”

You are trying to distance her, to tell her that she can have fun. It might be an issue that your friendship only seems to work when the two of you discuss your recent conquests or latest flings, but it is not one that either of you wants to address for now.

“I’m just making sure you know I’m here,” she defends indignantly, rolling her eyes at the glimpse of your happier self making its return.

“Are you going to be drunk?” Your question is pointed and you should really cross your arms and tap your foot impatiently to match your tone. “Don’t you have training tomorrow?”

“Maybe, and not tomorrow, no. I’ve been asked to join the first team the day after so they’ve given me an alternative rest day.”

“Ona, if you get drunk, you won’t be there for me at all. You’ll have your tongue down some poor, poor girl’s throat and your phone will be dead.” You laugh from experience, having grown accustomed to how she behaves under the influence. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I swear that alcohol is what fuels your hormones. I’m not going to burden you with my fucking pathetic crying, and, well, you know me, I’ll just find a boy to talk to. I am going to be fine.”

No one in the room is convinced.

You swat the air between you two, telling her to get on with getting ready. “Now, enjoy your night, and tell me all about it tomorrow morning!”

Ona wonders if you are over-compensating by insisting to hear about whoever she has gotten off with, but you are practically flying out the door the minute you have said goodbye to her family and she is stumbling around her room trying to find a clean bra. Life goes on.

If time did not tick on its own, one of you would task yourselves with turning the hands of the clock manually.

You try to recover from how much it fucking kills to have a girl break your heart by reminding yourself of your worth in the best way possible: male attention. They hound you, but you enjoy it. You crave it, most of the time, even if the feelings are never quite believably reciprocated.

It annoys Ona to no end, the way you play with the boys chasing after you. She hates the push and pull, fed-up with the constant complaining from your end. Often, because Ona speaks her mind when she can, she tells you that it’s not fair on the ones who hand their hearts to you only to watch you pierce through them with sharp, I-was-never-a-lesbian nails.

You don’t talk about her cousin. At least, not to Ona because you have been informed by some other friend that blood is thicker than water.

Or maybe it’s because Ona begins to avoid you, begins to spend more time with her teammates, who don’t hide their sexuality and who like the things she likes. (Once, in a hateful frenzy, Ona thinks to herself that the only thing the two of you have in common nowadays is that she likes you and you like you too.)

“What happened to your best friend?” Laia Aleixandri asks thoughtfully once after training. Ona is helping her collect the water bottles the other girls had left lying around on the pitch. There have been more injuries than what’s comfortable within the first team, and maybe some of the reserves have forgotten that they are not yet professionals. “You’ve stopped talking about her.”

“We’ve fallen out,” Ona answers, settling on that because she doesn’t know how else to describe the shift in your relationship.

“Over what?” comes Laia’s obvious sequential question, more a due dalliance than genuine interest. Laia is one of those girls who plays to play and can sometimes be too busy to spend time with the team outside of training. Because of this, she is largely unaware of Ona’s growing reputation within the squad. As Ona has grown up, her confidence has increased. Girls like that, and they are in plentiful supply to her. She no longer needs to be drunk, but something almost certainly occurs if she is.

“She dated my cousin and, I don’t know, the way she acted in the fall-out was horrible. She likes girls, I know she likes girls, but I think she has been scarred and her ego has been bruised. No boy has ever made her cry like that, and I think she’s traumatised. And it’s valid! I understand, completely and totally, but she is acting as though she never had a thing with my cousin and it’s annoying. It’s as if being gay is a joke to her.”

Laia senses that Ona’s not done, and she is correct to think so.

The next wave is this: “Laia, I really don’t agree with it, and it is hurting me. It hurts to see my cousin be messed around by a straight girl, it hurts to see my best friend hate part of herself, and it hurts me because, well, it just– it just does! I can’t explain it.” She can; she doesn’t want to. Her secret is still heavily guarded and it is going to take more than Laia asking about you to get her to confess. “I just want peace for everyone involved,” she says after taking a deep, diplomatic breath.

“Peace,” Laia repeats with a giggle. “Ona, the things I have heard about you are the opposite of ‘peace’. Aita’s been keeping me in the loop, and she says that–”

“Okay, Laia, I don’t need a lecture.”

What probably would have been very helpful for Ona to know is lost to the devastating final blow of her eye-roll as she jogs to the water cooler to return the bottles and head home.

…

The reconciliation of a decade-old friendship is fast and natural. Things do not quite go back to normal, and the two of you are not as close as before, but your group of friends at school breathe out a collective sigh of relief when the ice thaws and Ona starts to turn up to their gatherings instead of the ones held by her beloved blaugranas.

It’s a camping trip.

Their first year of bach has ended, and someone – Ona doesn’t know who – has suggested a camping trip because her grandfather’s brother owns a farm and the farm has a field and the field is far-removed enough for the smell of cigarettes and red-label whiskey to dissolve before reaching the house.

“Are we really going?” Ona asks, making you all laugh as you haul your bags and tents along the tractor path.

“I do think we should’ve gotten in the tractor,” you agree. Ona nods at you, thanking you for your support.

Everyone else says it’s good fitness, and then hurls insults at Ona for the remainder of the trek because she should be the last to complain if she is going to become a professional athlete.

It’s not as far as it seems, and the tents are set up quickly, along with some chairs, a foldable table, and a hefty stash of various bottles of alcohol.

You start smoking the minute someone flashes their lighter, and Ona uses that as a reason to stay on the other side of the small campsite for a good hour or so.

She stays away from you no matter how much you stare, but you watch her all the same.

The boys you talk to are not satisfying. Some may have innocent intentions but the majority don’t, and you know that you are pretty but you are not shallow like that. You don’t even meet the boys half the time unless they corner you at school and demand a slot of your in-person attention.

The boys you talk to explain football and the gym and why they have to play FIFA until the sun rises because it will definitely help Barcelona win on the weekend. They take you for an idiot, and they hardly acknowledge that your best friend (sort of) plays for their darling club so of course you know the rules and the positions. You know that Ona is a defender, and that she is good at it. You don’t want to be patronised and you don’t care about this kind of thing unless it involves Ona.

Therein lies the issue, actually.

You don’t care about much unless it involves Ona. Ona, who sways to the music bursting out from the speakers just as stiffly as she always has, not exactly blessed with dancing talent but not for lack of trying. Ona, who declines alcohol tonight because she is following a summer strength and conditioning programme with the hopes of playing in the first team’s preseason matches. Ona, who looks beautiful. Always.

Smoke billows from your cigarette, right towards the point of your focus, and, suddenly, doe-like eyes are staring back at you with a small, small smirk. She waves, as if to say that she has caught you, and you lean back on the camping chair you are slouched in, pretending to laugh at whatever your friend has just said beside you.

Later, when everyone else is knocked out from the bad quality of the whiskey, snoring comfortably in the other tents, Ona and you kiss. And once you start kissing, you don’t stop.

Ona is good at this, you assume, because she knows exactly what to do. Contrary to popular belief, you are far more active in theory than in practice, and she surprises you a little bit. Or maybe she doesn’t, because it’s Ona and Ona is good at everything.

You strive to match her, and you do by the time you finish school.

Sporadic, non-committal, and in complete disregard for your friendship, the arrangement of hooking up when you feel like it sees you out of Catalonia, with Ona naturally in tow.

Madrid CFF is happy to have her, and you quite enjoy the challenge of the Spanish capital. It’s not Barcelona, it’s not ideal, but change is good and you need space to explore who you are without watchful eyes and nosy gossipers.

Homophobia isn’t quite a thing in your family. Your parents are not radically against gay people. In fact, you’d say they are relatively supportive. However, that doesn’t stop you from feeling some discomfort. You lived through Ona’s struggle to come out, and her parents are ever more care-free than yours.

Madrid is a brand-new place, and word about how you are doing is easily controlled. Updates come from either you or Ona, and that means there is a filter easily applied to all anecdotes.

Your friends know about the sex, more or less. They know, they don’t approve, but they let you guys sort it out yourselves because everyone agrees that that is just how you and Ona are. They won’t understand it and they have given up on trying to.

Both of you make half-hearted efforts to separate the arrangement from your friendship. You don’t talk much afterwards until the other has left the realm of I-am-in-love-with-you. It’s nice to be in Madrid together, but you find different social circles soon enough and then you are reaching out more for sex than friendly activities and… You stop sleeping with each other upon the footballer’s request. She wants to focus on her career, on her success. She tells you over the phone because she cannot bring herself to end whatever occurred over the last two years in person, knowing that she’d take back her decision in a heartbeat. Ona really, really likes football, and she knows that she has to become obsessed with it to get to the top; more obsessed than she is now. How can she do that if you are distracting her?

You’re disappointed, but you respect her wishes.

Girls in Madrid stop seeming as shiny. The world is a bit duller, because although there had been no exclusivity between you and your best friend, there had always been that guarantee that the other would be ready and waiting. Your growing misery makes studying boring, and you find answers for your emotions in a science textbook, desperately running away from the obvious truth. Less sex means that you are unhappier. It’s biology.

It’s not a crush.

Not on Ona.

No.

And it’s certainly not this not-realisation that flies you to Milan the minute a modelling agency inquires about whether you have ever thought of, well, modelling. They scout you someplace random, and your mother claims that she could have helped you start your career earlier if only you’d have been interested.

When you explain to your best friend what you are moving for, she is oddly unsurprised and uncaring. Her reaction is sickening, because you’d have rathered her get an ego boost from having slept with a model than be so fucking apathetic.

“I’m going to Milan, Ona,” you repeat, just in case she has not heard you. “I’m moving. We did the trial shoots last week, and they loved me. They want me to update my social media and work on building up a following, and they said that I should start learning English because I might end up in New York.”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.” She doesn’t sound like she means it, and you grow annoyed about how she is not even trying to sound enthusiastic.

“Can’t you be happy for me? Or is it only acceptable for you to have dreams?”

“I am happy for you, I just said that.”

“The words left your mouth, but they definitely did not come from your heart.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Ona rolls her eyes and the pent-up sexual tension builds and builds until the bottle it has been shoved into can no longer withstand the pressure. You haven’t argued since you moved to Madrid, which makes no sense considering you literally broke up – even if it absolutely wasn’t dating. Neither of you has processed your broken heart, and you’re pretty sure you are still too traumatised from the first girl you fell in love with to be capable of revisiting those kinds of emotions.

Ona hasn’t had sex in weeks, and it is affecting her performance. She can’t sleep if she has the energy she does, and she can’t get through her workouts because not sleeping makes her lose her appetite and then she does not have the energy to complete them. Her coaches are worried, but they know that she is young and though almost idiotic, they mostly assume that she is repulsed by the idea of playing for a club in Madrid. They get that a lot with the Catalans that come over from La Masia, whose dreams have been delayed because the first team had thought it necessary that they gained more experience elsewhere.

Ona has wanted to shout and scream every minute of every day, and so have you. Therefore, everything explodes.

…

You inhale deeply, exhaling when it feels as though some of the stress has dissipated. This casting is one of the more important ones of the week. It’s odd to be judged on your appearance, to be paid for it, but it has been almost a year since you moved to Milan and you are enjoying yourself.

You don’t miss university, and you don’t miss your parents. Your friends visit you lots, loving the idea of your career, loving the excuse to escape their dreary weekends in where they have always been.

Milan is great. You make friends with a few other models, though they come and go depending on work, and the more experience you get, the more your following count goes up. Brands send you things, nice things, and events start extending invites to lure you into the glamour of the industry.

Milan is great, you tell yourself on repeat.

Milan is great, but it would be better if Ona were here.

Milan is great, but you regret the way you left things and want to take it all back.

Milan is great but–

“Your fitting is tomorrow,” says the assistant, reading off her iPad. You suppress your wandering thoughts, nodding. You need this job, you need the money to pay for a flight. The agency has given you some advancements – an impressive thing, apparently – but not enough to cover the cost of the ticket to New York for the start of Fashion Week. This show will fluff out your experience, and increase your chances of walking at one of the bigger shows.

You’ve been told that you are quite a good model; attractive, funny, with just the right amount of personality to be both a mannequin and an interesting figure.

The lifestyle is different but good, and you realise that you’d never wanted the mundanity of studying and then working and selling your soul to some kind of tall office building. Not everyone gets the concept of living away from home, especially not those from your tight-knit community who think the city is stretching the distance slightly (the train works, you can live with your parents and have a good job – you’ve been told that a few times), but you don’t mind. You can explain it as much as you want and they would still be confused.

You stay in touch, but you don’t stay present.

As your career snowballs over the next two years, you pull away from your home, always on a flight, always busy. You go to LA and Paris and London, and you rent your flat in Milan out as an Airbnb whenever you’re not there. You love the city, you start to think of it as yours, and slowly but surely, everything else fades into the background.

Apart from Ona, of course. Your friends still visit, or you meet up with them if you ever find yourself in Barcelona, and they continue to affirm just how proud they are of you. They talk about her a lot, too; about where she’s playing now, about injuries and fame and representing Spain. They know you are too stubborn to search it up for yourself, but these are the people who have grown up with you: they know you would like to be informed.

When you hear that Ona has moved to Manchester, you don’t quite think your actions through.

You have had enough. You miss her terribly.

Her number has changed, but someone passes it onto you.

You: I saw that you’re playing Arsenal next week. I’ll be in London then. Do you want to get a coffee?

Ona takes her time replying, but that is only because she wants to delay the inevitable.

Her eyes shine and her hair is damp, but the kick-off had been early and you don’t have anything to do today. You meet her in the carpark, picking her up in a black BMW that’s sleek and shiny and 100% not yours. Her laugh is light and free as she knocks on the driver’s window and juts her thumb out, instructing you to swap.

“I’m not getting in a car that you’re driving,” she declares seriously, though you know she has forgiven you because she would not have agreed to meet if she hadn’t. “Come on, I checked on Maps and there’s a place not too far from here that looks nice. And it’s empty, so don’t worry about the paparazzi.”

“The paparazzi are not after me,” you shut down quickly, not wanting her to think you are a bigger deal than what you are. Successful, yes. Famous? Not so much. “One day it’ll be you worrying about them, when you’re all grown up.”

“I’m twenty-one!”

It comes out so whiny and childish that you burst into a fit of giggles. Ona is proud to have made you laugh.

You don’t kiss her, but you’d like to. Then again, maybe it’s better to just be friends.

#woso x reader #woso #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #barca femeni #randombush3 #pretend it's not all build up #but it is

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coryosbaby · 10 months

Note

Can you give me something with barry from obx x innocent!reader and she's like rafe's little Sister and he like tells rafe that she needs to stay with him until he gets ALL his money plsss girls I'm deprived of my word porn 😫 ( Add some smut pleaseeeeeeee )

Honey <🧡 >

Barry (Outer Banks)/reader

a/n: Barry is dark asf in this so if that’s not ur vibe u can request again 🫶🏻 but anyways he’s so hot + I’m picturing s3 Barry 🫦

Warning: slight dubcon, kidnapping, blackmail, mention of guns and drug use (reader gets high), slight age gap? But it’s not really important + the reader is of age // forced oral (m receiving), throatfucking, fingering, the word ‘bitch’ a lot, pussy slapping, p n v, dumbification, loss of virginity, sir kink, sub! Reader, dom! Barry

“Please let me go!”

Your voice is desperate, as Barry shoves you inside of his home. You almost trip over your Mary Jane platforms when your foot hits a step wrong, but Barry catches you with one of his strong arms and pulls you up.

“You know a deal’s a deal, sweet thing’.”

His voice has a slight southern drawl, and you squeak when he pushes you down onto the couch. “Now stay your ass right there.”

You don’t even know how you got into this situation. One minute you’re having drinks with a few friends from your private school, and then the next minute you’re getting dragged away by your brother’s drug dealer. You don’t know exactly what he means by deal. You had never made one with him.

You two had spoken a few times when he spent his time at the Cameron residence when everyone in your family besides you and Rafe were gone. Rafe, being the untrustworthy shit that he is, surprisingly doesn’t despise you like he does your other siblings. In fact, you’ve become his favorite and most important one.

But clearly not important enough, since he’s probably got you involved in his cocaine dealing stuff.

“Did Rafe…” you watch as Barry rummages around in his kitchen cabinets, clearly paying no mind as you speak. “Did Rafe make a deal with you? Or something? I-I have money, I have lot of it—“

“Thirty thousand?”

The number makes your eyebrows raise in surprise. Thirty thousand dollars.. for coke? A“few lines”, as Rafe had called it. Yeah right.

“I-I don’t—“

“Well until then, I’d advise you to keep that stupid little mouth shut.”

His demand scares you, a bit. In fact, this whole situation does. Barry had always been nice to you. Maybe a bit too nice, if anyone from outside the two of you saw the situation (Rafe certainly did). But regardless, you don’t know what’s going to happen if your brother doesn’t get that money.

Barry seems to finally find what he’s looking for inside a wooden drawer. When he pulls it out, it’s a gun.

Bile rises in your throat when you see the weapon, the safety off and, you assume, packed with bullets. He throws it down onto the table in front of you.

“See that?” He asks. You nod heavily, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“Yes sir.”

You say it dumbly. You don’t know what else to say. Barry’s grin is wide when the words leave your lips.

“You try to run,” Barry starts. His tone shouldn’t be so tantalizing, but it is. “And I’ll use it. So don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

You nod, numb with fear. Barry picks up the gun and moves around the table to sit beside you. He’s exponentially close, his shoulder touching yours as he leans back against the fabric of the couch.

You don’t know what to do, really. What exactly are you supposed to do when your brother’s drug dealer is holding you for ransom? But you play with the hem of your skirt as Barry reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a bag of shiny white powder.

Your face scrunches up and you shiver. He uses his fingers to make a sloppy trail of cocaine on the hilt of the gun. You expect him to do the line he had created, but instead he just shrugs and stares at you for a moment with a glazed look.

“Why don’t you take some?“

You don’t think it’s a request. Your bottom lip catches in between your teeth. You sniffle.

“I don’t want to.”

“Cmon, now,” his tone is like honey but you can hear the threat. “Be a good girl.”

You look down at the drug, stark white against the metal of the shiny weapon and back to him, but you figure you have no choice. You just hope and pray that the addict gene didn’t make its way to you like it did Rafe as you press your nose against the gun. It’s right over Barry’s lap; if you weren’t so plagued with innocence, you would notice how close your face is to his aching prick as you peer over his lap. You jump when you feel the man’s hands twist themselves in your hair.

“Atta girl.”

The drug isn’t something you’re used to. You’re definitely not the type to drink, let alone do coke; but snorting it doesn’t seem as hard as you expected. Your brain is a little fuzzy once you lift your head up.

Barry puts the gun down on the table, and pours some more coke onto the glass in front of him. He snorts up a line, and lets out a low groan. And then he moves back and his hands move to your neck. He twists your strands of hair with two long fingers.

“You’re a pretty little thing, you know that?”

You flush. All the while your high begins to kick in, and you exhale shakily. Your thighs clench together, and you don’t really understand why. “T-Thank you..”

Barry chuckles. His lips are really close to your ear and you notice that he smells really nice. It’s making you a bit dizzy.

“Such good manners for such a good girl.” He praises. You gulp, the feeling of his hand suddenly on your leg making you jump. The man notices, and frowns. “Cmon now, sweetness. I don’t bite.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You squeak out. He grins, his fingers inching up higher to ghost over the inner part of your thighs.

“Think we can keep ourselves a little busy before your brother gets here, don’t you think?”

You nod, dumbly, as his fingers ghost over your Cherry print panties underneath your skirt. It’s a new sensation; you’ve never been touched like this. You’ve heard it’s what people that are married do, people that love and care for each other. You don’t think this is how you’re supposed to do it.

“W-Wait, Barry—“

But it’s too late now, because his fingers are rubbing your clit in slow, soft circles. You let out a tiny moan, your legs automatically parting against your own will. You can feel an ache bubbling up in your core, your little button starting to throb.

“You’re so wet, goddamn.”

It comes out low and throaty, and when you look down at Barry’s hand you can see that he’s palming his cock through his basketball shorts. You don’t know why, exactly, but your mouth begins to water as you watch the outline of him through the fabric.

“W-Wet?”

Barry breathes out a laugh at your innocence, giving a teasing flick to the bud by thumping it with his thumb and forefinger. You squirm, a small noise of pleasure rippling out of you.

“You’re cunt, darlin’.” He says. “It’s wet. Happens when you start thinking about dirty things.”

You frown as your wetness drips on his hand. “‘M not… ‘m not dirty! I swear!”

“I think you’re lyin’ to me… I think you are.“ His fingertip teasingly ghosts over your hole. “— but that’s okay. I like dirty girls.”

His middle finger sinks inside you to the hilt. You gasp, the sensation making your hips lift off the couch when he curls it. You moan, breathy.

“That— that feels good..”

“I know, angel. And you’re gonna take another one for me, aren’t ya?”

“I-“ you hesitate, but another swipe against your clit with Barry’s thumb has you keening against the couch. “Yeah! Yes, yes, anything, I’ll take anything!”

His forefinger slips in, next. It’s tight fit, but nothing you can’t handle. And when Barry puts you into a chokehold with one of his strong arms, he drags your body into his lap. His bulge hits your ass and you let out a mewl, his fingers never leaving you. His pace increases, his other hand moving from your throat to your skirt. He lifts it up and pulls your underwear to the side so he can watch his fingers move in and out of you.

“These panties are so cute,” he whispers into your ear. Your eyes roll back when your sopping wet cunt begins to make harsh gushing noises. “It’s too bad they’re getting ruined, huh?”

You nod, not a single thought left in your hazy brain. Your ruffle socked feet accidentally kick the table from the pleasure making your body spasm. You barely even acknowledge it, but Barry’s unused arm goes to your neck again and he holds down on each side of your throat.

“Don’t break my shit, bitch,” he growls. “You and your brother owe me enough already.”

“I-I’m sorry!” It comes out choked, scared, and dripping of pleasure all at once. His thumb moves to your clit again. You can feel something inside you building up, a wad of tension threatening to release. Your brows furrow in confusion and you become worried. What if Barry gets mad at you for feeling this way?

“S-Sir—“ your hole throbs mercilessly, face scrunched up. “Barry— think ‘m gonna.. gonna pee! S-Stop!”

“No you’re not, baby,” He chuckles. “You’re gonna cum— only good girls cum. So wet my fuckin shorts, dollface.”

Your eyes roll back as your orgasm washes over you, all of your limbs seizing up with tension. Your mind becomes foggy, and you scream as you begin to squirt all over your panties and onto Barry’s thighs.

“That’s it, honey. Shit, look at you…”

You sob, overwhelmed from all the sensation flooding your psyche. You stay against Barry, the warmth of his body bringing you comfort as your eyes droop. But you know you can’t sleep yet; you won’t allow yourself to.

Barry presses a kiss to your neck, begins gesturing for you to get up. You move up on shaky legs. And as bad as it is, you frown when his body leaves yours.

“D-Did I do something wrong, sir?”

He doesn’t reply; he simply presses his lips to yours, harsh and full of want. His strong arms go around your waist and his fingers dance along the hem of your shirt. He moves the fabric up, and up, until your bra is the only thing left on your upper half. You let him do it.

He palms your breasts and you gasp at the sensation. You’ve always been a bit sensitive there.

“Take this off,” he says, gesturing to the cups holding your tits in place. You obey, shyly in clipping your bra and revealing your puffy nipples to him. His mouth goes down to suckle one of the buds into his mouth. He hums around it, scrapes his teeth against the sensitive nerves and then begins unzipping your skirt.

“Any guy ever touched you?” He asks, as your soaked panties become the only thing covering your body. You’re incredibly shy, now.

“No— no one has.”

“Good.” And then he’s taking your panties off, sliding them down your legs and leaving you completely in the nude. It’s invading, incredibly so, but your pussy begins to ache for another orgasm again.

“Sit back down.” Barry demands.

You obey and he sits down next to you. The material of the couch is cold against your skin as he grabs your hair and pulls you towards his body with a rough hand. You squirm, trying to find a position that makes you comfortable, and settling with facing him on your knees. He loosens the drawstring of his shorts as he looks down at you with lust glittering in his eyes. You aren’t sure where to put your hands, so you decide to rest one on Barry’s thigh and the other on the couch. He reaches into his now loosened shorts and pulls out his cock.

You gawk, the sight of a dick being an unfamiliar image to you. He’s girthy, perfectly thick and a bit long. Precum pearls at the head of him as he watches your pleading eyes. He grabs your hair, firm.

You gasp when he shoves your face against him. Your ass is up in the air now, your tits pressed flush against his thigh. His tip is wet against your cheek, smearing precum all over your nose and underneath your eyes.

“Feel that?” He purrs.

You nod, dazed. “Yeah..” your hand reaches to touch it, curiosity peaking your interest. “It’s— its really pretty.”

“Yeah?” He gathers a string of his pre onto his finger, brings it up to your face and rubs it teasingly against the opening of your lips while you busy yourself with playing with the base of him. “Get a taste, baby.”

Your face turns a deep cherry red as you shyly stick your tongue out. His arousal coats your tongue, and as disgusting as you feel you can’t help but love the taste of him.

“‘S good,” you murmur. “I— I wan’ more of it.”

“I bet you want my cum all inside, don’t you?”

Your bottom lip turns down and you cutely raise your eyebrows together. “What’s cum? You keep saying that…”

He laughs, genuinely laughs. Your stupidity is amusing to him.

“Dressing in all those short little skirts and lookin’ at me with those pouty lips and you still don’t understand what I’m saying? You really are dumb.”

You shake your head, the words “I’m not dumb” falling from your lips over and over as you lean down and lick up some more of his pre to satiate yourself. Barry’s tongue runs along his bottom lip as he watches you, a large hand going down to stroke your hair out of your face.

“Cum is the stuff that comes out when you get that really good feelin’. “ he explains. “You came earlier, so I bet that little pussy’s coated in it right now.”

You bite your lip, kitten licking his cock once more and then pulling back.

“I wanna make you cum.”

He grabs your hair and pulls you back down. “I know.”

You whine, and then he’s groaning and bucking his dripping length against your lips.

“God, I know that mouth is—“ he doesn’t even hesitate to find the opening of your mouth and slip his tip inside. The taste is odd to you, but not inherently unpleasant. He’s musky and you can smell the scent of his arousal radiating off of him. “—so goddamn good. Fuck yeah, that’s it.”

You moan around him, your mouth swallowing him up more as the weight of his aching prick makes you more and more turned on. You down him as much as you can, his girth making the corners of your glossed lips burn.

“Knew a little kook girl like you would be good at taking dick,” Barry drawls. His hips thrust against your intensely, heavy balls slapping against your chin and spit leaking down them from your gaping mouth. “Cock taste good, baby? Huh?”

The choked moan and the string of drool pooling out of your mouth and down your neck tells him all he needs to know. He chuckles. “Yeah, I bet it does. Drooling little bitch.”

You know he’s right. And as bad as it is, the humiliation that he’s bestowing upon you is pleasurable. Your wetness is dripping down your thighs at his words.

You moan, moving his hands off your head so you can move off of his cock and begin suckling his balls. He moans loud and his fingernails dig back into your scalp again. You’re desperate, desperate to feel his skin and his smell and his taste, and you’re whining while you lick his heavy sack with hard strokes of your tongue.

“God, such a sweet fuckin’ slut. You’re doin’ so good.”

You whimper, downing his cock again and gurgling around him. Your pussy is soaked, and you try to move it around on the material of the couch to get friction. Barry grins when he sees your desperation.

“Needa cum?”

You pull off of him with a pop, eyes looking up at him pleadingly. “Yes sir.”

His fingers touch your swollen clit. Teasingly, just to see you squirm as he shoves his cock in your mouth again. And when he begins to rub harshly, you begin to buck your hips against him. Your second orgasm is already nearing, and when it happens you shake and choke around his length. He gives your pussy a light slap and yanks you off of him. Your mascara is smeared, lipstick staining the edges of your mouth and your hair stuck to your forehead in messy strands. Barry pulls you up to give you another kiss. And then he pulls you onto his lap again.

And in the midst of your lips on his, you hear his phone ring.

It’s on the nightstand next to the couch. An easy reach for him, and as he grabs the phone you see the words ‘COUNTRY CLUB’ flash across the screen in bold white letters.

Your eyes widen, shaking your head as Barry chuckles out, “damn, sweetness. It’s your brother.”

“Please… d-don’t let him—“ you cry, exasperated, as Barry presses his bare cock to your entrance. “Don’t let him know what I did— please! He’ll be so mad at me…”

The older man grins as he holds you down onto his cock; not quite in just yet, but it makes you quiver thinking about him stretching you out. He mocks you with a bullying tone.

“Aww, don’t worry honey.” He coos. “I won’t tell your big brother you’ve been a bad girl. Just let me pick up this call.”

Relief almost washes over you, if it wasn’t for the fact that Barry is still pressed flush against you. It’s making it hard for you to concentrate. He presses the green button, signaling that he’s answered the call.

“Where is she.”

Rafe’s voice sounds on the other line, and he’s extremely pissed.

“Perfectly fine, country club. In fact, I think she’s having the time of her life right now” Barry quips, as if you’re not dripping down his cock with a look of shame on your face. “I just need my money..”

He pauses, watching as your eyes furrow closed and you begin to move against him. You’re lost in your own pleasure now. You can’t help it. The sensation of his cock rubbing against your clit has you clenching and aching to release. You bury your face in his neck, trying to contain your whimpers.

“Look, man,” Rafe starts. He doesn’t like the way those words spewed from Barry’s lips. It makes him uneasy.

“I’ll— I’ll get your money, okay? Just— promise me you won’t hurt her. Please.”

“Oh,” Barry lets out a laugh. “We’re far from that.”

He lifts your hips with one of his hands. His tip begins to probe your entrance You gasp as your walls sink down on him.

“In fact, I think I can drown out your little debt and set you up for another month.”

#Barry (obx)#Barry obx #Barry (obx) x reader #Barry (obx) x fem! reader #Barry (obx) x innocent! reader #Barry (obx) x Bimbo! reader #obx #outer banks #Barry outer banks #Barry obx fanfiction #Barry obx smut

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padfootagain · 20 days

Text

Only an Almost (I)

Chapter 1 : For the Best

Hello!! Here is a new series! I’ve already finished writing and proofreading it, and I’ll be posting two chapters per week! I hope you’ll like it!

Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 2739

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It was a logical decision.

That’s what Andrew kept telling himself. As he watched you pick up your clothes, scattered across his bedroom floor, he forced his mind to form the same thought over and over again.

This is for the best. There’s no choice.

It was part of the deal. You never stayed for the entire night, and he didn’t linger long enough to fall asleep in your arms. Made it easier. Avoiding getting attached, avoiding stepping into any type of complication. You had sex, and then you were gone. On the side, you were good friends.

Best friends.

Something like that. Something in between good and best, he would say. Good didn’t sound strong enough to describe your friendship. It explained why it all happened in the first place, why you started casually hooking up about three months ago. After your first kiss, you decided to establish a simple rule.

If we do this, it can’t be anything but sex. We can’t get attached like this.

Romantically, that’s what you meant by this. And Andrew got it, of course. He spent most of his time abroad, it was the only logical decision. Besides, he had tried before to have serious relationships, but every time the same scheme repeated itself: he would leave for tour, and everything would fall apart. The distance always extinguished the flame. That and the fact that he was so busy he barely had time to sleep, let alone dedicate quality time to anyone. And he understood, of course, he couldn’t complain about being dumped when he spent a grand total of 20 minutes on the phone with his partner in the span of a day, when he got lucky. He got it, the ghostly presence, the lingering pain of being apart, the estrangement that came with the oblivion of the other’s life. He knew what it felt like, and he understood that others were not ready to go through that for him. He wasn’t worthy of it. It was alright…

And he understood that you didn’t want to get dragged into his mess of a life. To be fair, he didn’t want to drag you into this either, and he agreed when you offered this arrangement. He didn’t feel like he had a choice that day, when you made him this offer so casually, in front of a cup of tea. He could have said no, but his feelings for you were way too strong for that. Better have a little bit of you than nothing at all…

Friends by day, sex by night, no romantic feelings. Sounded simple enough.

“Damn… where’s my other sock?”

You looked around frantically, searching for the tiny piece of garment. Andrew spotted it by the door. He didn’t say anything about it.

“You’re coming to Alex’s party tomorrow?” he asked instead, voice a little hoarse after the sounds you had torn from him tonight.

“Hmm… yeah, probably. He’ll have my head if I don’t, anyway.”

“Perhaps not your head, but definitely your sanity.”

“He does hold grudges like no one else…”

Andrew stared as you buttoned your jeans, still searching the room for your lost sock, the one he didn’t help you to find. He readjusted the blanket higher on his torso, feeling self-conscious now that he was the only one left naked.

“Want me to pick you up?” he offered, and you nodded with a grin.

“Yeah, that would be nice! That way I can get properly sloshed.”

He chuckled at that, bathing into the warmth of your laughter, smiling without a thought.

“Oh, and I need to go to your mother’s tomorrow!” you informed him, readjusting your shirt.

His shirt, as a matter of fact. His heart stumbled at the sight…

“Really?”

“Hmm… she wants to take pictures of several objects for her artwork. I’ve volunteered to go around Dublin with her tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you.”

“We both know I like Raine better than you. I’m only keeping you around to have her,” you teased, throwing Andrew a mischievous wink.

He tightened his hold on the sheets.

“Oh, I see. You’re only using me to get to her… and I thought you only used me for sex.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” but he noticed the way you bit your lip, refraining a smile, and how you averted your eyes in shyness, and he loved the sight…

Your eyes fell on the lost item, and you let out a victorious cry picking up your sock, while Andrew swallowed back the lump in his throat.

You sat down on the edge of the bed to put your socks on, and he didn’t think as he sat up, leaning into your form. He didn’t wrap his arms around you, merely rested his shoulder against yours, revelling in the warmth escaping your body.

He pressed his lips to your hair, felt you tensing, saw you stopping your movements.

“Ring me when you’re home, okay? It’s late. Are you too tired to drive?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not that tired,” you answered, voice weaker than before, but he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because the night was quiet but for the branches of trees singing in the wind outside, and it felt like the world had slowed down, like it was more peaceful than usual. Perhaps because you were uncomfortable. Hard to tell.

He moved away, just in case. Distance cutting your edges and his with cold. And yet Andrew remained but centimetres away.

“Alright. Still, tell me when you’re home, okay? Just to be safe.”

You seemed to relax, he didn’t know if he liked that reaction or not.

“I like it when you do that.”

It sounded like a confession, the words on your lips quiet and velvety, soft to the touch.

“Do what?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side a little.

“Get all worried about me.”

You gave him a smile, one that he offered back with ease.

“Hmm… don’t have a choice. You’re a menace behind the wheel.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! You almost killed us last month!”

“It wasn’t even my fault, there was a fucking sheep running across the road, coming out of nowhere!”

“Can’t believe you’re blaming the fauna for this…”

You both laughed at that, and when you grew quiet again, smile still lingering on your lips, you let your head fall to rest onto his shoulder, and it was Andrew’s time to relax. You lifted your hand to rest upon his chest, right over his heart. For a second, he felt embarrassed at the thought that you would feel how fast his heart was beating, but your palm was too warm against his skin, and he soon couldn’t care enough to worry.

He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close, but not too much, not as much as he would have wanted, too afraid you would push him away.

“I know that… that’s what friends are made for, but still… it’s nice. Thank you, Andy.”

He closed his eyes as he rested his lips against your hair; closed them too tightly, until it hurt.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he whispered into your skin, mouth drifting to press against your forehead. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You hummed, leaning into him even more, and he felt all your muscles relaxing as he rubbed your back, palm flat against your spine, the curve so familiar under his hand by now.

You heaved a sigh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Andrew answered without a second thought, not thinking about what he had planned. He would move his schedule around for you anyway.

You looked up at him again, blinked a few times, as if to fall back onto earth. There was something dreamy in your smile.

“Good night, Andy.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

That was another one of your rules: no affectionate pet names.

He leaned down to kiss you, but you turned your cheek to his lips instead, and acted like it was nothing, like he had never been aiming for your mouth in the first place.

Third rule: no kissing without sex.

The next second, you were standing, walking towards the door. He stared as you walked out, listened to the padding of your feet on the tiles, the creaking of his staircase. He waited until the front door closed, and he let himself fall back into his pillows.

It was a logical decision, he didn’t have a choice.

Andrew, you absolute fool…

His mother was worried, which meant that Andrew was worried.

She was smiling at you as if nothing was wrong, as if the sunny afternoon truly was as bright as the beams coming across the green leaves of his parents’ garden trees.

Andrew was not fooled though. He knew his mother too well not to see the signs, to be blind to her slight frown, to the drifting downwards of her gaze, to the worried lip she kept biting on.

Raine didn’t say a word while you were here though, and it only worried Andrew more. You were a friend of the family; almost part of the family at this point. You were close enough to Andrew’s parents and brother to spend time with them on your own, just to see them. And they invited you often as well. If Raine wasn’t saying anything in front of you, it ought to mean that this was serious, that something terrible was happening. His thoughts drifted to his father…

“Andy? You’re okay?”

He blinked up at you, soothing the frown he had not noticed across his brow. He gave you a reassuring smile.

“Sure, why?”

“I don’t know… you look… worried. Is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. I was just lost in thought.”

You narrowed your eyes a little at him, clearly unconvinced, but Andrew shot you a smile, asked a question to draw the conversation back to you, and you yielded.

It was such a sweet afternoon, after all. You had spent some time taking pictures for Raine, and somehow had found your way to her garden, with tea and biscuits, a little high on sunlight and laughter. It was lovely. It almost felt like you and Andrew were not friends, almost like you were in your own family home. He pushed that thought away quickly though, taking a sip of tea and regretting that there was no burning effect of alcohol when he swallowed.

When you left to go home, Andrew was aware that he held you too tightly, for too long, that he let his lips linger against your cheek for more than a mere peck. But you didn’t push him away, and so he leaned further, allowed himself to be close, just for a moment.

You hugged Raine, promising to come back the following week for an artsy afternoon, and left as the sun abandoned the sky.

Andrew was washing the teacups when he finally asked his mother what was bothering her.

“Nothing, honey,” she reassured him, but he shook his head and gave her a hard look.

“Come on. Don’t lie to me. I know there’s something on your mind. Are dad and you okay?”

“Oh, darling… of course, we are. Don’t worry about us, we’re both fine. No, it’s… it’s you I’m worried about.”

Andrew couldn’t refrain a laugh, a mixture of relief and surprise.

“Me? Why would you be worried about me? I’m good.”

“Are you, though?”

She gave him that look, the one that pierced him to his soul, the one he couldn’t run away from. The one he knew would claim the truth, in the end. He felt like a child when she looked at him like that, like he had just stolen a cookie from the jar and was caught red-handed as he tried to hide the proof of his crime.

“I’m fine, mom. Don’t worry about me, I’m okay. I really am.”

But her gaze only hardened. Not in a cold way, on the contrary. It was a gaze of steel in its firmness, but that held all the love she had for him. His heart sank at the sight.

“Don’t lie. I know there’s something off between you and Y/N.”

Andrew struggled to swallow, looked away, fleeing. He stared at his hands still holding a teacup, and he noticed it was yours. There were traces of your lipstick on the edge of the pale porcelain. He traced it with his fingers absent-mindedly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, but his lie was obvious, his voice too low, too weak. In the sink, his fingers pushed the cup into the water, disappearing under soapy bubbles, and he left them there, in the warmth of the water, staring at the flesh that had disappeared, at your trace that was gone but that he hadn’t erased yet.

“Andy… you know that you can tell me anything. I’m your mother. You can always tell me anything that bothers you. That’s my job to help you. And I’m great at it.”

Her joke made them both chuckle, but he didn’t look at her. He rubbed at the stained spot on the cup instead, but blindly so, unable to see the destruction of your lips over the edge of the porcelain.

“I don’t know… it’s a little weird,” he whispered, struggling to find the right words and hating that about himself. How it was so much easier to write things down than to speak out words. They felt heavy on his tongue, had a wrong taste in his mouth.

“Why? What happened? Did you two fight?”

“No… no, we didn’t fight.”

“What is it, then?”

“We… We’re sleeping together.”

Raine stared at her son with wide eyes, her mouth dropping open. He chuckled at her reaction; clearly, she hadn’t been expecting that…

“What? When? How? What?”

“You’ve asked that one twice.”

“Wait, I don’t understand… if you two are finally being intelligent and are together, why do you look so sad?”

“I’m not sad.”

She gave him a look that was silently saying ‘I’ve birthed you, do not lie to me’.

He looked away again, tried to ignore the finally part of her question.

“We’re sleeping together. We aren’t together.”

“Oh…”

She seemed disappointed, leaned her back against the counter.

“How long?” she asked, after a heavy and lingering silence.

“A few months.”

“And you’re not dating her?”

“No, we’re not dating.”

“But you’re hanging out with her during the day, and sleeping with her at night.”

“Yeah.”

He struggled to swallow, cheeks turned crimson.

“Why on earth would you want that?”

She was blunt, as usual, but there was so much love in her question. So much worry for her son. Andrew wasn’t fooled, she was direct because she cared too much to circle around the issue.

“I’ve never said that I wanted that,” Andrew admitted in a whisper, feeling tears rise to his eyes, but he blinked them away, clenching his jaw to hold them in check.

“Oh, honey…”

She rubbed his back, her movement soothing. He rolled his eyes.

“Mom, don’t… I’m okay.”

“Casually sleeping with your friend… that’s not a good idea, Andy. Of course, you’re free to do whatever you want. This is your life. And I’ll always be here to support you, no matter what. Still…”

She heaved a sigh, but her son remained silent, and so she went on.

“You are too generous when you love, Andy. Be careful. Take care of yourself. For once, take care of yourself, before you take care of her. Can you do that for me?”

He finally pulled your cup out of the water. Your lipstick was gone, there was only the perfect white of the porcelain left under his thumb.

“Don’t worry about me, mom. I’m okay.”

“I know how you feel for her. This kind of… arrangement… it won’t end well for you.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I agreed to this. I’m okay with us just being casual, with nothing serious happening between us.”

But one did not fool a mother so easily. She gave him a look that let him know she understood him better than he did himself. And he had no doubt she was right about that.

Still, he put down the cup by the side of the sink to dry, picked up another, and washed the tea away again.

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x fem!reader #hozier x y/n #hozier x you #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier series #series #writing #fanfiction #fanfic

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cheqorb · 1 month

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MER-LOVE, 1.1 ft. reo, isagi, bachira, chigiri, nagi

REQUEST: “Hi hi!! I decided to take you up on your offer and request a part two to the Mer-love fic. This time can you add in reo and what would they do if researcher!reader brought someone along with them, like a co-worker and they think it’s reader’s partner?”

NOTES: jealousy hcs are always fun to write, thanks for requesting!! also to the people not interested in this au, don’t worry i’ll be posting other stuff soon anyway. i just want to get people’s requests finished & completed before i start writing my own ideas again <3

mer-love! masterlist here!

on occasion, you see REO coming to drag nagi off your boat if he overstays his welcome there, or if he thinks the lazy bastard needs a swim break before he dries out in the sun. you don’t mind him, he’s very polite and as a first impression; you would say he’s a solid guy. the type you can rely on.

the merman initially presents himself as the epitome of confidence and elegance, but as you get to know him better, his playful and more down-to-earth nature shines through. while there’s not necessarily a huge gap between the two, he definitely felt like he was trying to keep up appearances as the former personality. you suppose it’s a good thing he came out of his shell, because he visits you a lot nowadays! sometimes, you think even a bit too often. he usually comes with a multitude of gifts in his arms: stuff like pearls and any other valuable treasures from the ocean depths, etc.

like isagi, he willingly engages in conversation and shows a genuine interest in your research (particularly the financial aspects…) so that’s definitely a plus. it’s very sweet of him regardless, so being a charmer must just be part of his personality.

as the days pass, your boat becomes a second home for not just one, but two mermen—reo and the ever-present nagi, albeit with varying levels of enthusiasm for most things. their banter is oddly nostalgic, it’s like your back at the lab, chatting with the colleagues who don’t piss you off (it gets a bit lonely without the mermaids to talk to).

unbeknownst to you however, during those quiet moments when nagi drifts off to sleep and the conversation wanes, reo's attention shifts to you. as he observes your funny mannerisms and habits, he can't help but find them endearing. from your animated hand gestures, to the way you absentmindedly twirl a strand of hair, every detail captures his attention and leaves him quite captivated.

all in all, reo’s quite the sweetheart once you’re closer to him! let’s hope it’ll last.

i imagine that you’d bring someone who you’d trust to keep this a secret from the higher ups, as well as a close friend of yours. so, what you consider innocent gestures like leaning over their shoulder, sitting together while eating, look quite misleading from a mermaid’s perspective. (especially if their love language was physical touch/in mermaid society or whatever, you’re only doing those types of things with your lover…)

REO would be mortified at the sight of them. who is this person? why the hell did they come along with you? why are you talking to them?? please (and i stress this) don’t tease him by saying, “oh, haha, they’re my s/o” as a joke, he would actually rather die. unlike the others, he seems openly irritated with your friend’s presence and isn’t scared to voice it. to the point your colleague is like ‘wtf did you tell this guy about me’.

ISAGI is the most ‘normal’, rationalising that they’re probably just a coworker that you know. he’d only get antsy if your partner decides to get a little too close to you. even as chill and unassuming as he may be, isagi’s still got a pretty nasty ego on him. may or may not curse your coworker’s entire generation for the rest of eternity.

BACHIRA would be friendly at first, acting all smiles and being his usual chatty self. but if your coworker decides to try anything the merman deems too…unprofessional, they’ve got another thing coming for them. he’ll snap at their fingers, or tear them off. jk, but he wouldn’t be thrilled by it for sure. kinda just sits on a rock, lost in his own thoughts for a while.

CHIGIRI would pretend not to care at first, but it’s obvious by the glares he throws their way and the way his sarcasm seems to triple when talking to them that he doesn’t like them. seriously, why this person? he simply tries to get your attention on him at first, until that doesn’t work and he decides to ‘accidentally’ chuck water onto their face.

NAGI couldn’t care less at first, key word: at first. but then you’re paying them more attention that you do him and his brain subconsciously makes up excuses to why he doesn’t like them, granted some of these could be plausible but others are just straight up mean. their voice is so grating he can’t sleep, their figure is blocking the sunlight shining on him, among other things. get them off your boat. now >:(

#submission #[ 𐙚 ] CHEQ. — writing #[ 𐙚 ] CHEQ. — bllk #[ 𐙚 ] CHEQ. — mer-love!#blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #blue lock x y/n #reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #reo x you #mikage reo x reader #isagi x reader #bachira x reader #chigiri x reader #nagi x reader

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pedgito · 1 year

Note

Thinking of an modern! Eddie fic idea where the fruity for and the reader are all hanging out (doesn’t matter where) and the reader is flirting with a guy over text, she decides to go to the restroom and take some nudes but instead of sending them to the guy shes talking to she sends them to her best friend Eddie Munson who is sitting across from her. Eventual smut.

author's note: i took some liberties here and excluded the fruity four scenario, it just wouldn't fit the way this idea came to me so i hope you don't mind!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), modern!eddie, slightly inexperienced!eddie, confident!reader, established friendship, mentions of reader having lots of casual sex/partners, a little bit on pining/unrequited crushes, handjobs, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 3.4k

You can’t help but feel a little regretful when your phone dings for the millionth time that night, screen light illuminating the darkness of the room, the only other light source being the television position in front of you both.

Eddie was, hands down, your closest friend. He was the person you came to for everything, even slow nights like this when you just wanted to be around each other. And it could, from an outside perspective, look too codependent. But, if either of you were ever feeling sad or upset you always seeked out the other without hesitation.

Eddie felt ridiculous, practically on his hands and knees after school in an effort to have you come over tonight—it’s mostly for show, hoping to make you laugh, but you can see how desperately he needed it.

Still, the notifications on your phone aren’t immune to Eddie’s senses, his eyes dragging toward the phone set atop the coffee table that his feet are resting on, a quick succession of messages in one go.

He clears his throat softly, angling himself away slightly as you reach for the phone, looking back at him apologetically.

You weren’t always this inconsiderate, but Eddie never seemed to mind, not initially anyways.

It was pointless too, some bland conversation with a boy who was much too desperate to get in your pants—but you couldn’t lie to yourself, you were being just as promiscuous as you wanted to be, so the flirting ensues.

It’s not bad either, but it starts to blend together, things you’ve seen time and time again. And Eddie looks like he’s on the brink of passing out, head slumped in his hand and his lip pouting out slightly.

“You don’t have to stay,” He says quietly, his free hand tucked under his shirt, pressing against the warmth of his skin, “I get it.”

Did he, though? Or was he just trying to be nice?

Either way, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him high and dry on a night that he really needed you. And usually you both would be cuddled up against each other, but that wasn’t how tonight was going. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or exhausted, maybe a mix of both.

“I’m not leaving,” You respond, half offended that he would even suggest it, “I just—I’m gonna deal with this so they’ll stop bothering me.”

Whatever that would entail.

“Okay,” He relents, his voice soft, “I’ll pause it if you want.”

The movie, pausing the movie—you glance at the screen and back at Eddie, shaking your head.

“I’ll be quick.” You assure him before fleeing down the hall to the tiny bathroom, unlocking your phone.

And while you don’t necessarily condone sending nude photos of yourself to people you barely knew, you weren’t exactly a stickler for following the rules. Plus, you were good about keeping any identifying marks out of the pictures, namely your face.

You can hear Eddie move around in the other room, his walls dangerously thin. The old couch creaks as he moves and then the front door is squeaking open and slamming shut a few seconds later.

Smoke break.

Well, that or he was giving you some privacy.

You get a text from Eddie a moment later confirming your suspicions.

‘Out front for a smoke if you want to join.’

Followed by another.

‘When you’re done.’

You sigh heavily, switching over to your camera and dealing with the pressing task at hand, lifting your shirt up just above your breasts, a thin and see-through material that gave the subtlest view of your nipples, the curve of your breasts pushed together deliciously—you had to give yourself some credit, they were absolutely picture-worthy.

You snap the picture quickly, fleeting before you overthink it.

But, it doesn’t feel like enough.

You reach your hands around to cup your tits, pulling them out of the material with ease so they sit perfectly on your chest, still slightly supported by the fabric bunched up underneath them.

Was it deserved? Maybe not. But, you couldn’t be bothered to second guess yourself, snapping the second picture and readjusting your clothes, phone scattering into the bowl of the sink as you set it down.

You did want to join Eddie, so you sent the pictures without checking, not realizing how detrimental of a mistake you made. The phone is shoved into your back pocket and you meet Eddie outside a few moments later, his back turned toward you as he puffed on the cigarette, nearly down to a stub.

You reach around him effortlessly, plucking it from his fingers and pressing it to your own mouth.

“You could’ve asked for your own,” He laughs lowly, a deep chuckle that makes you feel warm all over, “I was trying to finish that.”

“Too late,” You smile, pressing the cigarette to your lips and puffing it dead, “I never finish mine and you know it.”

Eddie smiles knowingly, twisting you gently to urge you inside.

“Quick, before we freeze.” He tells you, opening the door to lead you back inside, the butt of the cigarette falling from your fingers as Eddie snuffs it out with his boot.

“I really am sorry,” You apologize timidly, “I know this is supposed to be our time and—“

“Hey, it’s fine,” Eddie shrugs, poking at the frown line in your cheek as you look over at him, “you’re here, at least.”

Eddie grabs a few snacks and drinks to finish out the movie, letting you settle into the space between his legs on the floor, pillow pressed against his lap for you to lean against. He’s playing with your hair absently, your eyes drawn to the screen as he checks his phone, the insistent buzzing of an unchecked notification driving him crazy.

He could only guess it was Dustin bugging him about something only he and Eddie would understand, but it’s not.

It’s not that at all.

It’s your contact name: two pictures attached.

Eddie’s fingers freeze against your hair, but it’s lost on you.

He’s not an idiot, he knows. God, he fucking knows.

And because he loves nothing more than to torture himself, he braves the fear that riddles his body and unlocks his phone, faced with the last thing he could ever expect.

“Oh fuck.” He says quietly, mostly to himself.

“Hmm?” You inquire, not bothering to look back at him.

Eddie stammers, phone almost slipping from his hand.

It’s not the first pair of tits he’s been blessed to see in his lifetime, but it’s not like he’s being bombarded with them on a regular basis. He’s had sex once, seen a girl naked once, in person, not counting the porn he watches on a regular basis—and he’s still new to all of this. But, this feels invasive.

Yet, he couldn’t pull his eyes away.

The silence is digging at you and you turn slowly, hand pressed like a fire-hot brand against his knee that makes him jump, his eyes pulling up toward you.

They’re wide—shocked, lost, and the words that he wants to say are dead on his tongue.

“Eddie, is everything okay?” You ask, concerning flooding you at his state of emotion, “Is it Wayne?”

He could keep it to himself, never tell a soul and live with the fact that he’s a total creep, bound to jerk off to the pictures of you at some point—he’s never outwardly admitted his attraction toward you, but he doesn’t hide it either.

Eddie hasn’t tried to ruin the one good thing he has going on in his life because his dick is telling him so, it’s the one thing he prides himself over.

But, that’s quickly flying out the window.

“Hello,” You call out again, “earth to Eddie? You’re starting to freak me out now.”

Eddie rubs at his brow in exhaustion, forehead creasing as he flips his phone around, “I uh, don’t think these were meant for me.”

You look at him, confused, tearing the phone from his hands and suddenly your mouth is falling open, not a word to be spoken.

“I mean, I’m flattered but—I think it’s safe to assume I wasn’t supposed to see those,” Eddie rambles, “not that like, I wouldn’t want to, but I figured it’s probably better to tell you rather than you finding out later and thinking that I didn’t tell you for some other reason, not that there is…a reason.”

You smile widely at his dramatic rambling. He only ever did it when he was nervous, which was inherently clear now.

This was going…great, clearly.

“That’s–” You laugh uncomfortably, softly, “I’m so sorry, Eddie.”

“No, no—don’t be,” Eddie interjects, “I’m not like I’m bothered or anything—“

“God, I’m so stupid,” You reprimand yourself, tossing the phone back into his lap, his hand tensed tightly into the fabric of the pillow when you move, a small thing you wouldn’t have noticed without the cause of current situation, but you ignore it for now, “you text me—and I didn’t even think to switch it back to the other conversation and I just sent it, like an idiot.”

“I’ll delete it,” Eddie says, reaching for the phone, “I’m going to delete it right now.”

“You already saw it, I don’t think it really matters.”

And it’s the first inkling Eddie gets that maybe you don’t mind—it was a genuine mistake, but you’re more panicking for the sake of Eddie, rather than yourself. Seeing your friend naked wasn’t exactly an ideal situation, but it wasn’t one Eddie had a problem with, not with him harboring such a deep crush on you.

“It feels wrong,” Eddie says, trying to laugh off how awkward things felt, “I mean, not that they’re bad photos—I think I should delete them.”

He shifts slightly, sitting up further as you turn to face him fully, knelt on the carpet at his feet—and that stupid, fucking pillow.

It’s covering the painful hard-on pressing against his jeans. Eddie hasn’t dealt with a situation like this since…well, ever.

Your eyes connect their briefly, the skin around his rings going white from his forcefully he’s gripping it, almost like he’s trying to rut into it secretly, relieving that silent ache.

“Should? Because you want to, right?” You check in with him, his fingers hovering over the delete button, staring intensely back at you.

“Yeah, of course.” He nods jerkily, “Friends don’t–don’t keep pictures like that, do they?”

He’s never been in such an unorthodox situation, learning the rules as he went. He never cuddled with friends or played with their hair, spent nights sleeping next to them in bed because the other was too tired to drive home–it’s a line you both have been walking on for a while, all that unspoken about tension collapsing in on itself.

“Only if they want to,” You tell, “You can–if you want to.”

“They weren’t meant for me.”

There’s a long beat of silence that has his heart racing in his chest, his face heating up.

“They can be.”

“But, what about–”

You shrug lightly, the light from the television shadowing around your face in a way that has Eddie mesmerized, caught up in the way you’re staring straight through him, your hand creeping toward his own, pulling gently at the fingers gripping the pillow.

“They were boring,” You tell him honestly, “and this is...a lot less.”

Eddie resists the pull for a moment, embarrassed by how easily he’s given himself over. It’s far from where he expected the night to go, and his internal monologue is screaming for him to say:

No. This won’t work. This can’t work.

“Eddie.” You say his name once, the tone in your voice telling him everything he needs to know.

Regardless of if this was a one time thing, you wanted it. And if all of this happened purely by chance, he’s thankful for the best goddamn divine intervention he’s ever experienced.

Eddie’s still speechless when you climb into his lap, thighs spread out over his own and his hands reaching around to squeeze at the wedge behind your knee, settling you more comfortably.

This was normal, no different than any other time that you’ve sat in his lap, but your hands are hovering, pillow tossed to the side. You can see how painfully hard his dick is from where it’s pressed up against the thick fabric of his jeans.

“I’m really trying not to make shit weird,” Eddie admits with a clipped laugh, “my body just kinda reacted.”

You shrug again, nonchalant. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Eddie glances down briefly, his hands rising up your thighs slightly, soft skin against rough denim. They squeeze at your hips, his gaze tilting back up toward you.

“What are we doing?”

It’s a question with a million and one answers, but you settle for something simple. Something Eddie can grasp and figure out himself.

“Whatever feels good,” You smile softly, pushing his long tresses behind his ears, the skin stained a deep red, “or we can go back to watching the movie and act like this didn’t happen.”

Eddie grips you a little tighter, like he might lose you.

“I can…help you out,” You suggest, glancing down with a mischievous grin, hands dragging toward the waistband of his jeans and tugging at the belt, “no stipulations or anything, unless you think it’ll go away on its own.”

“Probably–probably not.” Eddie admits. His morning wood wasn’t nearly as bad as this, but it always ended in him tensed up against the shower wall, fucking messily into the tight grip of his hand until he can finally find some relief.

You eye him wordlessly–he can see it in the way you light up.

A silent ‘Then?’ hanging between you both.

Eddie makes the first movie, surprisingly. His hands reach for his belt, unbuckling it with anxious fingers and sweaty hands, fumbling with the zipper until he can finally get it far enough down that he can wiggle his jeans down a bit. You lift yourself slightly to allow the action before settling back down, hands smoothed out over your own thighs. The aggressive tent in his boxers is lingering still–

“I’ve never done this before,” Eddie admits, “Like, without all the other stuff.”

And kissing didn’t feel right, too intimate for the situation despite how badly you wanted to touch him.

“You jerk off, right?” You ask, knowing the question is a little redundant. Of course he does.

He nods.

“So, I’ll just help,” You tell him, “or just watch, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Uh, no—I want,” Eddie nods slowly, looking up at you timidly, “I want you to help.”

There was no sense in him being shy, not with you. But, you get it—it’s uncharted territory, nothing either of you prepared for, but neither of you were turning down the opportunity. So, facing it head on seemed like the best.

“Okay,” You reply easily, dipping your hand between both of you to stretch under the material of his boxers, gripping him firmly. He’s hard, but everything about him is soft. You don’t dare a look, not yet, his eyes connecting with you briefly at the touch, his lips parting. It’s a soundless gasp, eyes pleasing silently, “is that fine?”

Eddie nods again, nose scrunching as you squeezed lightly, fingers rubbing over the fat head of his cock, the heaviness of him resting wonderfully in your hands.

“Might—might be easier if you take it out.” Eddie suggests, lifting his hips slightly to do just that, freeing himself to allow more room for you to move, bare skin pressed against denim.

You peek a glance down in the poorly lit room, flushed pink head disappearing under your grip as you fist him tightly, his hips rocking every now and then to meet your movements, his hands squeezing tighter and tighter against your hips, subconsciously rocking them in time with his. There’s no friction for you, but you don’t need it—this was about Eddie.

For now, at least.

“God, that’s so good,” He whines softly, head dipping back against the cushion as his eyes squeeze shut, “yeah—like that.”

Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth, rubbing testingly over the tip for a prolonged amount of time, precum drenching your hand until it’s sticky with slick, making a horrendously hot sound as your hand sinks down to the base and squeezes.

Eddie breathes uneven, a mix of a sigh and groan wrapped into one, voice cracking in the middle.

“Fuck, what are we doing?” He rambled, a sudden moment of revelation. “This is so—fuck—“

“Feels good?” You tease, “I’m having fun, Eddie—and I think it’s safe to say you are too.”

If the sounds he was making were any indication.

“You had other plans—didn’t you?” Eddie asks curiously, pausing in between words when things get too intense, his fingers digging into your back. It’s not painful, but you can definitely feel it.

“Maybe,” You shrug, “but you’re my best friend, Eddie—I’d do anything for you.”

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice sounding higher than usual.

“Mhm,” You nod, leaning over him slightly until your arm is pressed flush against both of your chests, the ridge of his cock rubbing against the front of your jeans at this angle—he’s so close to where he desperately craved to be, but still far enough away that it hurts. “Anything.”

“Fuck, I’m almost there.” He warns, feeling ashamed at how easy it was to work himself up. “Don’t wanna make a mess.”

You’re quick, using your free hand to lift your shirt over your head, hand leaving him for a brief second—he almost pouts, the feeling flagging slightly as his orgasm approached, but then he’s got your breasts in full view, pressed tightly against the intricate lace of your bra.

He really can’t take it, his hand cupping over your own as you return your grip around his cock, just as furious and tight as before, guiding you down as he likes, bringing himself closer and closer.

“Can’t believe you,” He says aloud, not for any reason in particular, “—doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

You laugh softly, hand sifting into his long curls and gripping at the root gently, he moans softly, eyes boring into your own.

“Depends,” You start menacingly, “how much are you enjoying it?”

He snorts softly, “Too much.”

His eyes linger toward your breasts, follow the slow rise and fall of your chest, the thin gold chain that dips between your cleavage and holds a similar guitar pick to the one he wore, a gift for you after a year of friendship.

It wasn’t because he wanted to see you dawning a piece of himself, it wasn’t that at all. But, you wore it proudly.

You smirk knowingly, guiding him toward your chest encouragingly until his mouth latches into your skin, his hands sprawling out against your back.

It was the push he needed, confidence surging through him as he mouthed at the swell of your breasts, fingers dipping around the cups to stretch the material down, revealing the softened bud of your nipples as they harden in real time, the breeze hitting them immediately.

Eddie comes with his face buried against your chest, panting into your skin hotly as he stifles the lengthy groan that escapes him, rocking into your joined hands with the aftershocks as his come hits your stomach.

He lets out a weak noise, somewhere between surprise and disbelief, sprinkled with an astute feeling of real exhaustion.

“Fuck me,” He groans, reaching blindly for the shirt you hand him, wiping away the mess he’s made without question. He can only assume you don’t mind, given that you so freely handed it to him, “that was…intense.”

You chuckle, climbing off of his lap slowly, adjusting your breasts back into the confines of your bra.

“Still want to finish the movie?” You say jokingly, but he almost seemed pleased that you asked.

“If you don’t mind—“ Eddie laughs slightly, adjusting himself back into his pants, leaving his jeans undone, “I didn’t get on my hands and knees earlier for nothing, you know.”

“Fine, but—“ You point at his wrinkled shirt, yanking at the fabric gently, “I’m gonna need something to wear, since, well—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie waves you off slightly, a grin splitting over his features, “or?”

It’s a challenge, a brave question to propose in a situation like this.

“I’m not sure you can handle me, Munson.”

“Try me.”

It’s no surprise, Eddie knows you better than anyone. If there was anyone to take you on, it was him.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #my writing

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garoujo · 1 year

Text

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — nagi isn’t normally a drinker until he’s dragged out to karaoke with the rest of the team after a win.

warnings: sfw! tipsy nagi / alcohol mention, he’s a pro player, no other warnings just super soft! note: i’ve had this idea in my mind for a bit + i finally got round to writing it <;3

nagi seishiro is tipsy.

it was a rare occasion, he rarely drank never-mind to the extent of it actually having any effects, he thought the hangovers were bothersome and it wasn’t exactly recommended as a pro-athlete. but the team— specifically reo and isagi had roped him into a few celebratory beers with karaoke after their win before he’d text you a few hours later to pick him up early with a wanna come home now, ‘m sleepy :x

but you know he’s had enough when you watch nagi almost trip over his own two feet on his way back from the bathroom with a little “ow”, after denying just that before his looming stature was shuffling down the hallway and his head whips up to blink at you with drowsy, lidded eyes in the hopes you didn’t see.

but you did, and just when his lips part to grumble about it, you laugh—it’s warm and pretty and something that sounds so much like home, that it makes him consider trying to actually fall just so he can hear it again.

nagi makes it three steps into the living room before there’s a puffy cheeked pout on his face and his eyes are on you as he mumbles out a “hey, quit laughing at me.” his cheeks are painted red and his snowy hair is messier than usual but you’ve always thought he looked pretty in the glow from the kitchen. he softens, sighs sleepily and because you love him, you catch yourself sighing too, a content sort of sound.

“are you sleepy, sei?” you giggle, a little amused before you narrow your eyes at the striker as he fiddles around with him phone in his hand — rotating the screen clumsily as he tries to load up his game but the sound of your voice brings his sleepy gaze back to you. he rocks forward with a few slow blinks and another cute pout before he stumbles towards you again, and he really looks like he’s in love.

“mhm, ‘ts such a pain.” nagi drawls, low and a little slurred, the alcohol making his usual lazy tone of voice a little whinier before he stops just before you on the couch, slumping down between your legs to flop on top of you instead of returning to his previous seat next to you with a grumble. you hear his knees hit the hard floor beneath him as his arms wrap around your waist and you notice the slight fogginess that still lays over his lidded gaze when he blinks up at you from your stomach.

you giggle again, shuffling under him and scrunching your nose at his sudden weight “sei, move!” you grumble and he only allows his bottom lip to jut out into a makeshift pout as his arms around you tighten.

“don’t wanna, ‘ts comfier here.” he huffs, eyes dropping and he knows he’s probably going to complain about the ache in his neck tomorrow given the awkward positioning, but right now, he nuzzles into you anyway.

“you’re squishing me!” you add, voice lilting to a tease and nagi sighs, only moving slightly to guide one of your hands to smooth through his hair before he nuzzles into you.

“what a bother, gimme kisses and i’ll get up.” he sighs again and you’re surprised at the sudden straight forward request for affection from your usual lax boyfriend. but he hums when your fingers comb through his hair and you know it’s less because he’s tired and more because he’s home, watching him shoot you one of his more affectionate looks before he places a softer kind of kiss onto your skin through your clothes.

“do you wanna get up and go to bed?” you laugh, craning your head to lean forward and place a kiss to his forehead and nagi yawns before he nods his head and his arms around you seem to squeeze even tighter.

“nah, don’t wanna. wanna stay here a lil longer.” his words are quiet and you smile as he leans forward to place a sloppy kiss to your lips before he rests his chin on your chest.

“pretty thing.“ nagi mumbles a beat later, blinking up at you while his words still slightly slur and you can’t help the snort that leaves your lips when the sudden tender confession leaves his pouty lips. “how much did reo make you drink?” you reply, slightly teasing but you continue to scratch your nails through his messy hair anyway, just to watch him lean into your touch like he always does.

“hey, don’t be mean to me.“ nagi sighs, turning to place a tender kiss to your wrist before his eyes close again, his voice smoother when it sounds once more like he was steadying himself “alcohol ‘s such a pain, i just wanna play video games.“ he groans at the realisation of what’s coming when he wakes up tomorrow, but he hiccups before breathing deep and softening, mumbling this time when he blinks up at you “you gotta carry me to bed now, can’t get up.”

you soften, lean in, press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose and you giggle at the way his eyes close, feeling his fingers squeeze at the dip of your waist when you pull away “no fair, wasn’t done yet.” he breathes, and by the tone of his voice you can tell clarity is slowly getting a grip on him again.

you nod your head, amused and lean in again when he meets you half way with a pout, because nagi taught you that happiness is just as simple as this — him nuzzling into your stomach between slurred words and stolen kisses as your fingers smooth through his hair.

nagi seishiro is tipsy, but he loves you everyday, just the same as always.

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#blue lock fluff #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #bllk x you #nagi x reader #nagi fluff #nagi x you #nagi seishiro fluff #nagi seishiro x you #nagi seishiro x reader

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thegoblinboy · 11 months

Text

Never Say Die [2]

| Part one | you are here | part 3 | part 4

Everyone seemed to want a part two… so here’s another part! (Also name title comes from a Black Sabbath song lol)

Steve took a few steps in the house. His hands shook as he barely could see through the shirt that was over his face. Concealing his identity from the neighbors. He knows that Hopper and Joyce’s intentions were positive, but his mind was playing tricks on him. For a split second he was back in Russia, blind fold over his eyes as he’s being dragged from a van. Still in his sailer suit. Blood all over his face, the ashes of star-court still lingering on him. Not even given the chance to wash them off on the flight here.

Though When the blindfold is pulled off he’s in the doorway of a very nice home, not in the middle of a Russian cell. He can feel his body shaking a bit from the memory. Before he takes a shaky breath, closing his eyes. All of this seemed a little to easy. What if he was making it all up in his head? What if he was currently in a cell right now losing his mind. He wouldn’t put it past himself. He has had dreams so real about returning home before, to only wake up and get the shit beat out of him.

Hoppers quick to stand in front of him. Protecting him. Steve’s eyes snap open quickly, tears slowly forming in his eyes when he realizes what the older man is doing. It’s been a while since someone’s protected him, and not the other way around. Sure, once upon a time in the prison someone did protect him. But that barely lasted a couple of days before the guy disappeared in the middle of the night. Now Steve knew he fought a demogorgan and lost.

“Mom, what’s going on?” It’s Will’s turn to voice his concern. Steve can’t see him through Hoppers back but he knows how his face is pinched up. Joyce, who was currently standing next to Steve smiles shakily. Tears in her eyes, light footsteps moving fast across the wooden floor start to come in their direction.

“Will, everything’s fine. It’s just.. a surprise guest dropped in. A good surprise. “ Joyce explains putting her hand up. Gesturing for the other to stop. Which is what immediately happens. “Why don’t you go back and tell everyone to go gather in the living room. Let them know we’ll be out in a second.” Joyce instructs. Moving forward out of Steve’s sight. Who can already picture her smoothing the boys hair, wrapping her arms around Will in a comforting manner. Something he’s seen thousands of times and has always envied.

“And tell them, if any of them even think about stepping out of that living room I’ll make sure no one’s allowed to play that Dogs and Donuts game.” Hoppers voice is stern. Steve was standing behind him and it was bringing the fear of god into him. Though he has to hold back laughter because he knows the guy was purposely getting the name wrong.

A few footsteps and seconds past and he can hear Will in the living room. Voices starting to echo through the walls as both of the adults. Who were very concerned, pull Steve into the kitchen. Joyce is already pulling food out for him. Setting a plate on the table within seconds. He hesitates, before he’s moving and awkwardly sitting down. Eyes skimming the room. A habit of his that he’s picked up. Within seconds he already knows where he can exit quickly if it was needed.

“How are you alive?” Hopper asks first, getting straight to the point. Moving and leaning on the table as he looks at Steve with that serious expression again. The same one he held in interrogation rooms.

Steve chuckles shakily, “Russian Prison.” He answers simply before he’s wolfing down his food. He’s sure he was going to throw it up in a little bit anyway. It’s been a long time since he’s had home cooked food. His stomach was already shifting uncomfortably from how much he was eating. “I didn’t die during the explosion thingy, I hopped down and well. Here I am. Woke up in a van in the middle of Russia later on and found my way back home. In quick summary.” Steve explains quickly. Body tense at even the mention of the prison. Thankful for the fact Hopper knew when to back down from something like this. Eyes filled with concern.

“How do you want to do this?” He asks changing the subject.

“We can pull them one at a time in here and have them see you?” Joyce tosses the idea out there.

“No. Just want to rip it off like a bandaid. Get it all done and over with. I cant-” Steve says shakily. Dropping the fork on the plate as he stares down at the table. “I can’t choose who I want to see first. I want to see them all at once or none at all.” He admits. Moving his eyes up to challenge Hopper. Unsure whether or not they were going to allow him to see them. There shouldn’t be doubt in his mind, but there was just a smidge. Hard to trust anyone anymore. He barely knew the two adults in front of him. Only a few awkward conversations in the past.

“Alright… you ready?” Hopper asks. Moving to stand properly. Not even bothering to battle whatever imaginary war that was in Steve’s head. Steve was not ready, he never would be. He moves standing up. Left arm holding his side as he nods his head. Moving to follow the other. Hearing the hushed panicked voices in the living room. A couple curse words following along with them.

Before Steve can get a step in Joyce is stopping him. “Hold on, let me give them a warning.” She smiles softly before turning and moving into the living room. That was still mostly bare from the move in. Steve shakily crosses his arms over his chest as he tries to focus on breathing. He didn’t want to freak out to much while everyone was. He had to be the emotional rock. He looks down at the floor, not wanting to look up at Hopper. Faintly listening to Joyce begin to ramble right behind him.

“So… this wasn’t planned at all. It’s news to me.” She sounded like she was crying already. “But- this person. You aren’t expecting him and I know some of you are going to be excited to see him but he has some injuries. So maybe try not to jump him or overwhelm him.” Joyce warns. Everyone’s already starting to ask questions all at once. “I’m serious guys. He came from god knows where, doing god knows what.” She says finally hushing the crowd down.

Steve finally gets his signal from Hopper. His hands were shaking as he moves. Carefully limping a bit to the doorway. One hand on his side as he leans on it. Eyes landing on everyone in the room. Searching for Dustin and Robin. “Where’s Henderson?” Is his first question. Eyes squinting trying to see, his vision wasn’t nearly as good as what it used to be. Along with the fact he could barely hear out of his right ear. But thanks to the amazing government he was able to get a hearing aid fitted.

He knew that everyone was going to be shocked, but the way everyone’s faces go white makes a shiver go up his spine. All color leaving the room with the acceptation of Eddie and the boy with long silky hair. Both who didn’t know him. Steve’s looking around the group, to many faces and reactions overwhelming him before he sees Dustin throwing himself at him. Moving away from Eddie, who was stunned by how fast the kid could move.

Before he could tackle Steve, Hoppers catching him as says something. Dustin’s already in tears as he moves more carefully as he still hugs him. Steve’s hands shakily wrapping themselves around him, only taking a second before he’s tightly hugging the boy. Squeezing his eyes shut as he feels like one of the numerous missing pieces was just placed in his heart. He didn’t realize how much he missed the little shit until now.

“I watched you die.” Dustin sobs, body shaking in Steve’s arms. Steve feels like a leaf, he’s close to falling from the effort to keep them both up. He’s in tears himself, when he catches the green of his letterman jacket walking in from the other side of the room. Coming from the bathroom most likely.

“What’s happening?” Robins voice is loud and clear as she looks at everyone. Not given a chance to process Steve standing in the walkway.

“Didn’t figure you to be a basketball jock there buck.” Steve laughs softly. Watching as it all hits her as well. And she’s already sprinting, squirming out of Hoppers reach as she nearly tackles Steve and Dustin.

“Ow ow ow, I think you guys just turned my lungs to dust.” He gasps in pain. Both of them stepping back from him as he nearly falls. Holding his side, as he try’s to steady his breathing.

“Here let’s get you sitting.”

Steve nods his head as he moves to Joyce, who’s concern was only peaking. Leaning on her a bit as she helps him to the empty spot on the couch. Which was right next to Eddie. He’s coughing a little, lungs burning from the pain in his side. A shaky inhale of air as he looks at the other curiously. Before his eyes move to land over on the boy with silky hair who was watching him confused.

“Hey.” He chuckles awkwardly lifting his hand up as the boy smiles waving back at him.

“This- this is Argyle.” Jonathan pops in. Looking anxious at the sight of him. Nancy looked like she was a goldfish.

“Hey wheeler.” Steve chuckles, not caring about her what’s so ever. Who he cared about the most were both standing in front of him now. Nearly hyperventilating. He opens his arms out a bit, “come on you dorks. Be careful of the stitches though. I am not redoing them again.” He laughs as they both move carefully. Robin in his lap curling in on his chest. He moves getting comfortable, the exhaustion getting the best of him as he offers a arm for Dustin who was also seeking some comfort. His eyes and nose were burning from the effort of holding back tears.

“No offense but you look like shit, and I can barely see.” Max tosses in. Standing up now to get a better look at him.

Steve snorts, “I can barely see or hear and you sound and look like shit kid.” He says amused. Earning a snort. “What happened to you?” He asks curiously.

“Vecna.”

He freezes. Everybody was looking at him as he glances around, “wait the big cone head looking dude with the ET fingers?” Steve asks. He hadn’t realized that he had made it to Hawkins within the time he was away. He’s gotten hints, even seen him once. Drawings of what he looked like up on the Russian walls. From his understanding he created a portal, to trade demogorgans for the life of the prisoners. Which was apparently how he got so strong to be able to finally reach his way to Hawkins and use his powers without needing the person physically in the upside down.

“You know who Vecna is?” Eddie asks, speaking for the first time. His voice is wavering a bit as he does.

“Well that’s not what me and the prisoners called him. But yeah. We were wondering why he stopped… well snapping our bones like twigs for.” He admits.

“Prisoners?” Is the question everybody all say at once. He winces as he tries to stay relaxed. He was starting to get overwhelmed. As much as it was a relief to see all of them it was getting a little to much.

“Yeah, Russians don’t take to kindly to someone ruining one of their bases.” He chuckles dryly. “Can we- um change the subject.” He winces as he moves a hand up to his head. Feeling a migraine forming. His head hasn’t been the same since he was near that radiation shit in the mall. He blinks as he feels a random nose bleed starting to hit him. Feeling dizzy Robin and Dustin hop off from him when he starts to shake more while underneath them. El moving and offering him a tissue with a knowing look. His hands shakily take the paper, confused as to why she would be looking at him like that. It was just a random nose bleed, he wouldn’t be shocked if he got radiation poison or something.

He moves back into the couch after a second of wiping his nose, completely worn out. Blinking at the effort it was taking him just to stay here mentally. His eyes meet Joyce’s who was already getting Hopper on it. “You look exhausted hon, why don’t you go get some rest in our room.” She smiles as he nods. Moving, his legs begin to shake as he holds the bloody tissue to his nose. Walking the way Hopper wanted him to.

Unaware but fully aware at the same time of the amount of eyes that were on him.

So… I only had a few scenes that I really wanted to write for this. This was one of them. The next part I also really wanted, and I don’t know how I’m separating each part. I’m used to writing 10k word chapters so this is kind of like fresh air lmao. So I’m just writing to relief some stress as I graduate in less then a week 🥳 I just didn’t expect so many people to also want to read this.

Though, I would like to say if you like the idea of Steve disappearing and coming back out of nowhere I do have another fic called Bark at the moon! (Sorry self plug) it’s on a pined post on my account and the link leads you to ao3! (It’s werewolf steve fic and he does disapear😉) ok self plug over. Thank you guys for showing so much interest! It means the world to me!

Tag list; I tagged everyone who seemed interested! Let me know If you want to be added :)

@totallynotagoraphobic @flustratedcas @shunna @spookednsaucy @steddie-as-they-go @estrellami-1 @xxbottlecapx @gregre369 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thing-a-ling @radioactiveartz @bestwifehaver @idkwwhatimmdoiing @goodolefashionedloverboi @bringmethelow @thescribblerdragon @starman-jpg @lilaclilyroses @resident-gay-bitch @wolfscreations @adhdsummer @victor-thee-corvid @happymediummm @decadentworld @sidebarre @foundintheshallows @jamieweasley13 @yellowdevilkitten @catlovesfandoms @gryffindorsareidiots @thephantomhood

#next part will have more Steddie interaction #promise #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #bxb #steveharrington #steveddie #eddie stranger things #steve and eddie #Steve harrington was the Russian prisoner instead #Steve harrington needs a hug #don’t you ever take Steve from Robin #Dustin and Steve are like brothers #everyone feels so awkward and in shock about the jock being back #is it obvious

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horrorhot-line · 11 months

Text

metanoia

(n.) the journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self or way of life.

➵ pairing: saiki kusuo/reader

➵ word count: 12k

➵ genre: fluff with humour here and there

➵ warnings: none

➵ summary: for the life of you, you couldn’t understand why your peaceful life had been turned upside down. no matter what you did, you always found yourself dragged into saiki’s problems. worst of all? at first you wanted nothing to do with him, and slowly, without even realising it, you didn’t mind being around him as much.

➵ masterlist (requests are open)

➵ previous part - serendipity

I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING POSTED BY ANYONE ELSE ON ANY PLATFORM

before you read:

‘saiki telepathically communicating with reader.’

‘reader thinking or interacting with saiki through thoughts.’

“saiki talking without moving his mouth.”

“saiki talking using his mouth.”

notes: i know you guys were looking forward to him but i kid you not i can’t seem to get it right. ever heard of writers block? think writer’s boulder. anywho, it was either i worked on other pieces on the side like this on or stop updating for a year like i did last time. so enjoy this, and i promise i’ll get ‘for him’ out as soon as possible. this oneshot is based on s1 ep3. thank you for waitingggg!

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

It all started when you ran into Saiki at the park. He just happened to be there because your paths intertwined on the way home from school. You had taken a different route on purpose to avoid getting involved with the man, only to find yourself in the same crowd as him, watching a magic show.

You had decided from your first encounter with Saiki that you would do everything in your power to keep your distance, especially after you found out he was the most powerful psychic in the world. You had promised not to tell anyone his secret and made sure not to be caught near him, yet it happened anyway.

Truth be told, you were terrified of him. You didn't have enough fingers to count the times you noticed him in your peripherals, following you to make sure you held up your end of the bargain and didn't tell anyone of his powers.

"Who's ready for another très bien trick by me? Master illusionist Uryoko Chono!" The magician performing the show asked, and you moved swiftly to the side so confetti wouldn't land in your hair. You didn't have the time to stand idly by and watch- you needed to be home for the new soap opera that would launch that day!

That, and you didn't want to get caught in any situation that involved a particular psychic. You had decided to do a U-turn when you saw Saiki's pink hair in the crowd until the magician addressed you.

"Hey, student! Why don't you stay and join the fun? You too, pink hair! I'll do a trick to put a smile on those faces!" Chono exclaimed, leaning on the table before him and putting a hand out to stop the two of you. There was little chance of that happening; you were sure Saiki didn't even know how to stretch the corners of his mouth.

You sighed, turning on your heel to come face to face with the crowd of people staring at you expectantly. Great! Now you had to stay. It seemed like Saiki felt the same way, shooting a side glance your way before staring at the green-haired magician.

You deadpanned at the magician. "Oh! I see you're a sceptic." No, that wasn't it. It was more of the fact that you could think of a million other things that could use your attention, and this magic show wasn't one of them. "Well, once you see my show, you will become a believer in my powers to amaze." You could only purse your lips at the statement; you weren't buying it.

All magicians were hacks and used the ability of misdirection to achieve their illusions. That, and after finding out about Saiki and how vast his powers were, nothing this man had to offer would phase you. Yet, you watched anyway because walking away would be too awkward.

Saiki walked towards the crowd, joining it at your side. How had this caught his attention, you wondered. Did the magician really have supernatural powers? 'No, I'm watching, so he leaves me alone.' Saiki had yet to think something at you in weeks, and when he did, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

You were sure you'd never get used to his voice echoing inside your brain. At least he had cleared up your misunderstanding, you thought to yourself before moving away slightly, so the boy wasn't too close to you. From where you stood before, you could practically feel his body heat.

The magician pulled out a box with a cartoon-like shooting star on it. "Right. I hold here an ordinary cardboard box." Chono stated, holding it up for the crowd to see. 'Nope, there's nothing ordinary about it.' Saiki thought at you, his expression dead, as always. You still couldn't understand why Saiki was talking to you. You replied back, anyway, 'What do you mean by that?'

"As you can see, it's empty inside." The magician tilted the box, opening it so you could see, and he was right. 'At that angle, you can't tell there's a partition.' So that's how performers did it; you always wondered how they accomplished tricks like that. You were right- this guy was a hack.

"But, watch! Just a couple taps and it's party time." Chono said as he tapped his cane on the box before opening it, only for birds to shoot out and fly away into the distance. "Aren't they amazing, folks?"

The crowd cheered and clapped for the magician, not knowing what you and Saiki did. "Hey there kids! Très bien, am I right?" The magician asked as he pointed a finger at the both of you. Not to you, they weren't, but the trick probably would have garnered your praise if it wasn't for Saiki telling you how the box worked.

'It's not très bien. If anything, I'm worried about that dove.' Saiki remarked, and you turned to look at him questioningly. 'What dove?' You inquired, confused as to what he meant. 'He has a dove under that hat, but I think he forgot about it.' You examined the magician's maroon hat, guessing Saiki could see through it with his x-ray vision.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, please turn your attention here for the main event of our show, my super illusion!" Where had Chono pulled out those massive boxes from? His hat, you mused, chuckling quietly to yourself, stopping only when you noticed Saiki shoot a look of dismay your way. "Magically teleporting from one box to another will be lovely assistant, Michael."

Chono snapped his fingers before looking to his right, and you followed his line of sight only to see an old man with a straw hat on his unruly grey hair. 'Lovely is a stretch.' You grimaced, were those flies buzzing around him, and what was that foul odour he was emanating? You had to agree with Saiki on that one, 'I don't think you can class him as lovely.'

"The beautiful Michael is entering the box." The assistant was definitely not beautiful, either. Maybe Chono was blind? Now if that were true- it might’ve gotten a clap out of you. The magician narrated as you watched the old man get in before he shut the lid behind him. Chono snapped his fingers again, "And, drum roll." He said before doing some weird dance and making sound effects with his mouth to raise the level of excitement. You were expecting to be amazed. 'This is so sad.'

You nodded at Saiki's thought, 'It's almost painful to watch.' This had better be worth it; you did not waste 20 minutes of the airing of the new soap just to be disappointed. The crowd murmured in anticipation. 'What expression am I supposed to be making right now?'

Even you couldn't tell Saiki the answer to that, 'A smile maybe?' You mused, only for him to shoot a glare at you. Chono released the ball of confetti in his hand, and you watched as it fell to the ground. 'His overconfidence makes me cringe.' Your face scrunched at the scene; the whole thing was becoming near unbearable. 'You and me both.'

'And I'm still worried about that dove. Does that hat have air holes?' From what you could tell, no, it didn't. At least Saiki cared about the well-being of animals. 'I'm not. I just don't wanna be around to see a bird die.' You rolled your eyes as you folded your arms over your chest. Of course, he was the type to deny it. God forbid he actually had the ability to express concern for something.

"Alright, let's open the box!" Chono said as he walked over to the other box, putting his hand on top. 'Uh oh, lovely Mike isn't done teleporting yet.' You were beyond confused, turning to Saiki, who was still facing the stage. 'He's under the table.' Your eyebrows unfurrowed as realisation washed over you. That made sense, so the trick was to use the table to go to and from the box.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, dreading what was to come. "3, 2, 1... It's party time!" Chono exclaimed, a huge grin on his face, and Michael came out alright, just not from the box. He emerged from underneath the table and raised his hands as if he had completed a feat. Chono stood with his back to Michael, his hand gesturing at the empty box.

A comical sweat bead formed on your forehead, and you cringed internally. You bit your fist as if that would help ease how uncomfortable you felt. Was it too late to make a run for it?

The crowd was deathly silent, and it was no wonder why. 'Now I really don't know what expression to make, maybe this one?' Saiki remarked as he observed the magician. You watched as Chono's expression fell, becoming a hideous grimace. 'Yeah, that seems appropriate', Saiki confirmed, and you were glad his unintentional comedy saved you from the awkwardness.

The crowd dispersed shortly after that, and you stayed behind with Saiki to witness the aftermath.

"Why should I pay you for ruining the illusion?!" Chono exclaimed at Michael, who only retorted. "I moved at the normal speed- it was your darn pattern that got too fast. Now, you hand over that 500 yen." The assistant put his hand out, expecting his payment.

"No one tipped me for this performance, so I couldn't pay you even if I wanted to," Chono stated before he noticed yours and Saiki's presence. "Hey, why are you two hanging around?" The magician said as he turned his back to Michael. Saiki wordlessly raised his finger to his head and bent it repeatedly.

"What, oh, you wanna give me a tip? Haha, I could never take money from a kid. The look of joy on your face-" Chono cut himself off when he looked down at the hat he took off his head. "-PICO!" That poor bird, you couldn't help but think.

"I completely forgot she was up there," Chono said, now sitting down as he stroked the dove. So that's why Saiki chose to linger even after the show had ended- he was worried about the bird. 'How can you forget there's a dove on your head?' Saiki stood at Chono's side as he looked down at the white creature.

You questioned the same thing- surely the animal had rustled and moved around up there. "So, you weren't trying to tip me; you were trying to remind me. Wait- does that mean... That you're a magician? That's how you knew she was up there." Saiki clenched his fist, a frown forming on his face. No, he was an esper. 'I should've kept walking.' Saiki lamented.

"With instincts that good, you must have hated my show." At least the green-haired man was right about one thing, Saiki had, in fact, hated his show, but he only had his powers to blame for that. "Maybe, I'm not cut out for the magician game after all." Cue the sad music in the background- where did the sound even come from? Was there a hidden speaker somewhere in the park?

You were sure the universe had some sort of playlist, like a version of a 90s tv show's laughing track, the one that went off at the right moments. "Until a few months ago, I was your average office drone," Chono told the two of you, bowing his head as he sat on the park bench. Hold it. You did not agree to listen to whatever existential crisis he had going on. "Then, I made a small mistake."

Of course, you'd have to hear his sob story anyway. 'Oh, boy.' You sighed, waiting for the magician to get it all off his chest. "Corporate fat cats laid me off. Then, my wife skipped town." Damn, homeboy was really going through it, alright. 'Is it too late to walk away?' Saiki questioned no one in particular, but you answered anyway. 'It is.'

"With no job, I couldn't pay the mortgage anymore. One little mistake and my career, wife and home had all disappeared- and then it dawned on me, I should become an illusionist." That was heart breaking and all, but you had to wonder where he was going with this story. “Wait- what?” Was it you, or was Saiki's voice hot- No! Now was not the time for this!

"Because so many things had vanished from my life, I thought it must mean that disappearing them was my talent!" You nearly choked on your spit. Well that took a turn. The plot twist nearly gave you whip lash. Oh, dear. This poor man... somebody help slap some sense into him. “Your only talent is self-delusion,” Saiki was right- the man needed a reality check.

"So, even though I had been offered another office job, I turned it down to start my new life doing street magic." At least Chono looked pumped about it all. “Again, what?” You were just as bewildered as Saiki was, questioning the green-haired man's logic. "If I can save up 1 million yen, I can buy the sawing a body in half trick- then, my wife is sure to come back!"

You shook your head in disappointment; the man had lost the plot. “Don't be so sure.” Why would his wife come back if he did that? And how did Chono plan on raising that kind of cash when he had just lost his assistant? "But then I wonder if I chose the wrong path."

At least the magician was finally seeing clarity and the error of his ways. 'Yes, yes you did.' Saiki thought bluntly, and you agreed mentally. 'He needs to quit street magic and get a real job.' You thought back. "Sorry, didn't mean to get so gloomy." Chono apologised, looking up at the two of you.

'What'll it take for him to give up?' You pondered at Saiki's question, bringing your hand up to your chin to think. Maybe showing him an impossible illusion? "Let's get back to your background as an illusionist and how you knew I had a dove up there." Chono gestured at his hat and you watched realisation dawn on Saiki. Over what, you had no idea. 'That's it.'

You observed as Saiki wordlessly walked to stand directly parallel to Chono and you, pulling his school bag off his shoulders to hold it in front of him. "Whoa! Gonna pull something out of your bag?" Chono commented as you watched on. Saiki held up his other hand as his eyes widened. You raised an eyebrow; this was the most expressive he had ever been.

'I'll do a trick so beyond his ability, he'll realise how far gone he is and give up.' So that's why... Saiki had taken your advice.

"You're gonna pull out... a dove!" Chono guessed before stating he could pull out bowling balls himself. 'Hmph.' Saiki's stoic expression remained, and your eyes widened when he pulled out the hand that was rummaging inside his bag. Nothing could have prepared you for what the psychic did.

He pulled out Michael by the hat on his head, though the man looked like a scrunched-up piece of paper. Saiki placed the old man on the floor, and you watched Chono's eyes bulge from his socket as he gasped. Surely, that would be enough to get the aspiring magician to stop his foolish ways.

"That's impossible!" Chono exclaimed as he fell to his knees, his jaw still slacking. 'Aren't you supposed to say très bien? At least this will make him give up.' Saiki stated as he walked away and turned his back to Chono. You tried not to stare at Saiki's ass- but failed.

"Thank you. Now I can see. If your talent was hair, it'd be a flowing mane, while mine is just an eyelash." You stifled a laugh at the example Chono stated. 'I don't quite understand using hair for that metaphor, but at least he's finally-' Saiki didn't get to finish that thought when he turned his head; Chono had already left your side to kneel behind the psychic.

"Make me your apprentice." The scene reminded you of One punch man, where Genos asked Saitama to make him a disciple. 'Should've seen it coming.' You only gazed over Saiki's shoulder to watch Michael hold up a 500 yen coin, talking about how he was going to eat a hot cup of soup.

Maybe sticking around and missing the airing of that soap opera was worth it- this was far more entertaining.

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Saiki may have walked the same way home as you, but his house came before yours. After the whole fiasco with the magician happened, and you realised your goal of not bumping into said psychic had failed, you chose not to take a detour, but walk with the pink-haired man instead.

No point wasting more time, you had reasoned. Your original plan to go home in hopes of catching the last few minutes of the tv show you wanted to watch was a bust because when you neared the Saiki household, you noticed Mrs Saiki stood outside the house in the front yard trimming bushes with gardening scissors.

Before you had a chance to make your getaway after greeting her, she exclaimed that it was far too late in the afternoon to walk home without eating, and even though you found her caring demeanour sweet, you weren't grateful for the sentiment when it meant being near Saiki.

Sure he hadn't done anything, but the boy did threaten to smite you off this earth the last time you were in his house. Could anyone really blame you for wanting to keep your distance? Try as you might, though, you couldn't say no to the lovely woman who was Saiki's mother. Her smile threatened to blind you, and you didn't want to make her upset by refusing.

Dinner with the Saikis was eventful, to say the least.

Mrs Saiki had ushered you inside quickly, but her son hadn't followed the two of you in. You didn't question it when she locked the front door. When he did step into the kitchen minutes later, he was followed by his dad. Mr Saiki didn't say anything to you- instead, he rushed over to his wife. "I can't believe you changed the locks on me again!" He complained, and you felt in that moment that you chose the wrong day to come over.

Were they having marital issues? You swore that the last time you were here they were getting along just fine. What had happened? "I hope you're hungry Ku-Ku. I'm making you breaded pork chops for dinner!" Mrs Saiki chose to ignore her husband, talking to her son instead as if the angry man behind her didn't exist.

"Hang on, now you're choosing to ignore me? Besides, I told you I wanted to have steak tonight!" Mr Saiki pointed his finger at his wife before raising his arm up and down as if he was throwing a tantrum - which he was. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot- but I can boil you a leather shoe." Mrs Saiki replied in a sickly sweet tone, turning back to her cooking. "I don't want a shoe, leather or not!"

You wanted to laugh but thought it wasn't the right time; you chose to snicker to yourself quietly. 'I wonder when it went wrong for them. they used to be so passionate.' You watched on as Mr Saiki claimed his hate for his wife was as wide and deep as the pacific ocean, and she retorted by saying she hated him like a fish hated air. Why did you have to be caught in the middle of this?

'Well, they're still passionate now, but it's a little different.'

When the food was ready, you sat down next to Saiki, staying silent as you dug into the rice with your chopsticks. "Gorge yourself, guys- I made a ton!" Mrs Saiki said with a smile on her face. "Hey, hey, hey! Hey!" Mr Saiki stood up from his seat at the dining table, slapping his hand on the surface like an angry restaurant customer.

You couldn't blame the guy, you and Saiki had gotten pork chops for dinner, but Mr Saiki had received a leather shoe garnished with gravy on top, filled with rice and had chopsticks placed inside it. "Is it good, Ku? Y/n- Oh, honey, would you like something else?" Mrs Saiki gave a closed-eyed grin to her husband, who stood in front of her. "No, because I bet it's just the other shoe."

"Bon Appetit!" Saiki's dad had guessed right, it was another shoe, but it was a blue sneaker. "That's not even from the same pair!" You watched steam flow out of the shoe, wondering how this situation was real. You felt like you had been sucked into some comedy show. 'They've been going at each other for a year.' Your eyebrows shot up at Saiki's revelation, watching on as the couple argued.

Mr Saiki gave up on trying to get his partner to be civil, turning to the psychic with the cooked leather shoe in his hand. "Hey, Kusuo- use your powers to turn this old shoe into a steak for daddy." Saiki's thoughts flooded into your brain, stopping you from hearing his dad's rambling.

'So, in case you forgot, this pathetic dude's my dad, Kuniharu Saiki. He's lazy and irresponsible- and asks for help with everything in his life. But surprise, surprise, the more I help, the more useless he gets. So, lately, I've stopped doing him any favours.' Wow, Saiki sure was cold, dissing his father like it was nothing.

'I already know all that- Who are you talking to?'

'The audience.'

'Stop breaking the fourth wall, please.'

You observed as Mr Saiki stopped rambling as he realised his son wasn't going to listen to him. "What?! How dare you take your mother's side in this?! Do you have any idea how many shoes I have to lick each day to buy that food you're eating now?!!" Mr Saiki shouted, and you watched as Saiki continued to eat his food quietly with no change in his expression.

"So, you do like to eat shoes?"

You guessed that much was enough for his father to realise his son wasn't going to lift a finger to help. Mr Saiki gave in, "Alright, I'll eat it-" He shovelled the rice into his mouth when he picked up the plate only to shoot up out of his seat seconds later, "-It stinks! What did you do to this shoe?! Are you trying to poison your father?!" Mr Saiki exclaimed at his son.

"I'm pretty sure that's how they always smell, dummy," Saiki commented, still eating his rice. You watched as Mrs Saiki addressed her son when he put his bowl down, a shining bright aura around her. Where did that bright light come from? "Hey, Ku? Now, just remember what I've always said. Please don't use your powers for evil."

'This is my mom, Kurumi Saiki.' Mrs Saiki clasped her hand around her son's, "You must only use your powers to help those in need. Or those people who you're certain are genuinely nice-"

'She's a big reason why I haven't let my gifts turn me to the dark side.'

'Is that a star wars reference?'

Saiki ignored your question- continuing his not-so-inner monologue, 'She's a caring soul- well, to me.' You were taken aback when the sweet air around Mrs Saiki changed to something dimmer. "-But, feel free to use your powers to hurt daddy." This whole situation was getting more and more preposterous. 'She kinda has a dark side herself.' You could see that.

Mrs Saiki seemed to notice her husband scoffing down Saiki's food when she was distracted around the same time you did, and you watched her expression shift from a smile to a cold glare after she slowly turned. "Stop eating Kusuo's dinner, you thieving son of bitch!" Mrs Saiki looked extremely pissed off, a tick mark appearing on her face. Hang on, she knew how to swear?!

You felt sorry for Mr Saiki, but there was no way you'd get involved, you didn't want his wife to aim her anger at you instead. "That's it! We're taking this outside!" She shouted, and you had to admit the situation was getting interesting. Who would win? 'In truth, I could break up this fight whenever I feel like it, but this is something they're going to have to work out themselves.'

Did he think things at you on purpose even though he could just not talk to you? You didn't want to admit it, but the idea made something inside you churn. Were the two of you closer than you realised?

You watched Saiki's attention shift from the brawl to the dessert that was placed near him. 'Hm? Coffee-flavoured jelly? Hmm, doesn't taste bad- earthy with a slightly citrus finish. Don't let the name fool you- this jelly is a mature dignified treat.'

You couldn't pay attention to Saiki fangirling over the dessert, too busy watching Mrs Saiki handle her husband like she was some WWE fighter and he was her opponent. She put him in all types of chokeholds before raising him over her head, preparing to throw him. Was now a good time to take your chance and sneak away?

'Better still, when you add just a splash of whole milk, it becomes an entirely new flavoured sensation,' Saiki continued to eat the coffee jelly, turning away from his parents to take another bite, '-and that hint of decadence is everything I ask for in my dessert.' You realised that was the first time you had seen Saiki smile. It suited him.

Saiki didn't get to eat any more of his treat, because when he raised his hand up to his mouth to consume another spoonful, Mrs Saiki launched her husband and he crashed into his son, which forced the spoon out of the pink-haired boy's hand. You watched the jelly fall from the psychic's hand in slow motion until you saw a flash of pink.

Saiki had managed to catch the dessert in his mouth before it fell to the floor. He was now on the floor and you couldn't help but think about what you had done for the universe to force you to stay at the Saiki household during the whole fiasco.

"You wanted to eat jelly that bad?" Mr Saiki had gotten up, whereas Saiki was still on his stomach on the floor, chewing what was in his mouth. "Forget the jelly- We got bigger problems! Your mothers turned into a monster!" Your eyes travelled to where Mr Saiki was pointing, thinking he was exaggerating.

He wasn't, Mrs Saiki's face had transformed into what looked like a Japanese Onii mask from folklore. "Stop running from me, you coward." Even her voice had changed as if she had been possessed. Oh, dear. "You've got to stop her! You're my only hope to stop her reign of terror. Do it! Slay the demon!" You wanted to run your hands down your face in exasperation, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away.

Mrs Saiki let out a demonic laugh as she grabbed onto the dining table. "You're not leaving 'til I say so!" She exclaimed before she raised the furniture above her head to throw it at her husband- how had the food not slid off? You wanted to leave but didn't want to incur Mrs Saiki's wrath. Mr Saiki tried to shield himself by bringing his arms up to cover his face as he closed his eyes. "Ahhh! Oh god! Ah- Huh?"

When he opened his eyes, Mr Saiki realised the table was floating above his head, all thanks to Saiki using his psychokinesis. "Hey, Kusuo!" Saiki's father went from shocked to smug, smirking as he realised he had been saved. 'I've got the weirdest parents, I don't really care about stopping another pointless fight, but I can't help myself.' At least Saiki had stepped in, lest the house gets trashed and you get dragged into the war.

"So now you're on your dad's side? I even made you pork chops!" Mrs Saiki's face was finally back to normal, and you let out a sigh of relief. You were still confused by Saiki's comment. 'Why do I say it's pointless? Just wait.'

"I want nothing to do with either of you again!" When Mrs Saiki's voice flooded into your brain, you nearly jumped. 'That's a lie. Truth is, I love them!' Your head whipped to look at Saiki's back, guessing he must have used forced telepathy on you. At least he had helped clear your confusion.

You couldn't help but wonder why she was lying, why she wasn't honest about her true feelings. What was the point of this fight again? 'No matter how hard they try, the voices in their hearts always bubble up. In other words, all these fights they have- are a sham.'

Your brain hurt- because trying to wrap your head around why the couple was acting like they despised each other when they didn't was nothing short of difficult. You rubbed at your temples, Saiki using another power you weren't used to had gotten to you. When Mr Saiki claimed he hated his wife and son, his inner thoughts told you he just wanted to snuggle.

They fought on the surface, but their voices in your head told you that they were just complimenting each other internally. 'Like I said, another pointless fight. There is one person here who has real reason to be upset, me-'

'Don't forget me. I didn't ask to be dragged into this.'

'-Those weirdos interrupted my dessert. I guess only a psychic can fix this.'

Mr and Mrs Saiki stopped arguing when they started saying they loved each other telepathically. You watched in amusement as they started blushing, getting confused why they could hear each other. Realisation dawned on them as they turned to their son, "Kusuo!" They both exclaimed.

'Forced shared telepathy. I used my psychic powers to link their minds at the neural level. In other words, thanks to me, they can now hear each other's thoughts.' You were somewhat grateful he explained to you how you could hear what his parents were thinking.

Mr and Mrs Saiki told their son to stop his powers because they didn't want the other to realise they were still in love. What a disaster. At least the fighting had stopped. You watched the psychic's parents go from being embarrassed to pronouncing their adoration for each other.

With a hand on his wife's waist, Mr Saiki declared that he loved her, and she did the same. Where had the flowers surrounding them come from? 'Cool. The end.' Saiki deadpanned.

'It's finally over.'

While his parents apologised to each other profusely, the pink-haired boy took a seat at the dining table to finish his dessert. You sat across from him, relieved that the war in his living room had passed. 'What a pain. Normal people are complicated. At least now I can finish my dessert in peace.' This time around, when Saiki smiled, you had the chance to properly observe it.

He looked handsome, you had to admit. You knew the boy was attractive but he looked 100x better when he was showing normal emotions. It was over a sweet dish- but still! Did Saiki have a sweet tooth? Would he smile again if you got him something from the bakery? You shook your head, choosing to find interest in the furniture around the psychic's house.

You didn't know how to feel when you found out that the fight started when Mrs Saiki ate her husband's coffee jelly. All of that was because of some dish? This was ridiculous. You watched Saiki's expression fall when Saiki's mom twirled over to her son and snatched the coffee jelly the psychic was eating right out of his hand so she could present it to Mr Saiki.

You watched Saiki's small smile fall, replaced by a dark expression as he stared at his hand where his snack used to be. Oh, no... You ignored the boy's father claiming the dessert was a mature dignified treat, rummaging through your school bag to find what you needed.

The rumbling of the windows in the Saiki household stopped when you placed the bag on the floor beside your seat and used your hand to slide the coffee jelly you fished out onto Saiki's side of the table. It took the psychic a moment to realise what was in front of him, and you smiled.

What could you say? The guy looked cute when he was confused. Due to how powerful he was, you sometimes forgot that the boy was human. After a beat, he made eye contact with you and you swore you saw his eyes sparkle. Your smile dropped in slight shock, your lips parting.

'Coffee jelly?'

You gulped, catching your bearings.

'Yeah, I forgot to eat it at lunch- you can have it, Kusuo.'

When you called him by his first name without thinking, you thought he'd complain. Instead, Saiki grabbed the treat and gingerly peeled back the seal before digging in, a soft smile gracing his face again. You ignored the weird feeling that washed over your heart.

Maybe the psychic wasn't all that bad.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

When night fell, you headed up to Saiki's room. The psychic knew of your inner turmoil of not being able to catch the show you wanted to watch and said his mom had most likely recorded the pilot episode before you two had reached his house. 'I'm only doing this because I don't want to owe you for that coffee jelly,' is what he had said.

Grabbing the cassette from his living room, Saiki walked past you up the stairs. When you stood there in confusion, he turned around to tilt his head in the direction of his bedroom as if telling you to follow him.

'Hurry up. Before I change my mind.'

That is how you found yourself seated on Saiki's bed, with him sitting in the chair he had pulled from his desk- so it was right in front of the television.

He had left the room earlier to change into more suitable clothes, a sweatshirt with brown pants. You had to admit even though he didn't have an eye for colour coordination, he still managed to pull it off.

Truth be told, you were disappointed. The show didn't live up to the promotions you had seen all over social media. You were expecting a love story starring Mikoto Teruhashi. Was it you or was that name familiar? What you got was some twisted joke of a romance.

The female lead's family died in a car crash, she got cheated on, and she got married to a stranger only to find out that her boyfriend didn't sleep with another woman; she had walked in on his long-lost twin brother instead. All in one episode.

You felt like you had whiplash with all those plot twists. What a let down. You sighed, shifting on Saiki's bed when you felt pins and needles assault your thighs. You chose to cross your legs, yawning into your hand. Was now a good time to go home?

"Is binge-watching shows your favourite pastime?" You asked, trying to make conversation in between the infomercials. "I like watching tv. It's one of the few things that can surprise me. Because I can't hear the actor's thoughts, I don't know what's coming next." The psychic replied.

"Makes sense." You shrugged, not really knowing what to say next. "Speaking of next, that new mystery show's supposed to start soon." Saiki sat with one leg on his chair, his arm resting on his knee for support. When he used his index finger to change the channel, you nearly lost your mind.

Oh, yeah- he's a psychic, of course, he can do that, you thought to yourself, ignoring the fact that your brain had decided to short-circuit on you. "Tonight, you will witness a miracle!" You heard the narrator on the tv show talk, but his words didn't quite reach you.

No way... that man in the distance looked way too familiar for your liking. It couldn't be. "What." Saiki mirrored your shock, his eyes widening. "A stupendous amazing illusion performed by the former homeless man turned master magician, Uryoko Chono!" The narrator on tv continued.

"Now that's Très Bien!" Chono said through the screen, and you watched Saiki's face deadpan. "What did I tell you about tv surprising me?" You didn't have a witty reply for him this time, too shocked at the fact that the magician from that afternoon had managed to get his own segment on live tv- hours after you met him.

Was that even possible? "After losing it all, he became a street magician and mastered tricks that others can only dream of!" The narrator came into view- a mic in his hand, as he praised the green-haired man beside him. You brought a hand up to your forehead in incredulousness.

"But this isn't just a surprise; it's unbelievable. How is a man who almost killed his dove, good enough to be on tv?" Even you didn't know the answer to that. You watched as Saiki stared at the screen, gobsmacked. "You might wanna close your mouth- flies will get in. Never mind that, we just saw him before. How's he gotten on tv so soon?"

"Blame the author; it's for plot convenience." You exhaled in exasperation, a new headache forming in your skull. "There you go, breaking the fourth wall again." You commented, shaking your head as you tutted at him. "What I'm attempting tonight is the most dangerous escape you'll ever see!" Chono's voice coming from the tv filled the room.

Your face slowly lost its colour as they showed snippets of what was to come. A box, chains, then knives, followed by a drop, fire and- was that a bulldozer?! You were sure of it now; the green-haired magician was toast. "No way he's this good." Saiki had taken your advice and shut his mouth; it was no longer hanging open. "He's a goner."

"But live or not, they'd never put someone on tv that might get hurt, right?" You shook your head to yourself; they would- they had. "Don't be too sure. If he dies, the show's view count will skyrocket." The camera panned to the magician in question. "As you can see, folks, Chono's hands and feet are both shackled. As he makes his way to the crate- Oh no, he fell!" You observed as Chono faceplanted and kissed the floor. Was this second-hand embarrassment you felt? "Just a trip; he should be fine."

"He's safely inside the box. And now, Mr Micheal- Chono's formerly homeless assistant- will lock him in." You could only watch in horror as realisation dawned over the magician's face, and he exclaimed to wait- that he wasn't ready. You didn't like where this was going. From the tricks you had seen that afternoon, you highly doubted that the green-haired man could pull this off. He wasn't going to make it.

"Him screaming isn't a good sign. Neither is all that banging he's doing." Saiki's face lost its colour. "No shit, Sherlock." The psychic only glared at you, and you were too busy watching the tv while biting your fist to notice. The narrator told the audience that Chono only had 5 minutes to escape or the box would be destroyed with him in it. The camera cut to a shot of the timer counting down.

"I'm sceptical he can do this." So were you. There was only 3 minutes left. "Should I help? I don't even think I can. I'm not close enough to jump in and save him without being seen." You were on the edge of your seat. Two minutes left. "Then again, if he fails, he dies, and I can't have that happen." You imagined what was to come, the tv announcing that Chono was burning alive inside the crate.

"It would ruin my night." You swore the psychic was just talking to himself at that point. At least Saiki cared; the boy did have a heart, after all. The pink-haired boy stood up from where he was sitting on the chair. "If he fails, the footage would cut into my mystery show-" You took your statement back; he was heartless. "Is there a way to teleport in without getting on tv? Yes. The one place the camera can't find me- inside the box itself."

With that, Saiki was gone. He vanished into thin air, and you guessed he was now inside the box. All alone in the room, the only thing you could do was keep your eyes glued to the screen, waiting with bated breath. 'Kusuo?' You hoped he could hear you over everyone else's thoughts, hoped he was within range. He did, and he was.

'He's not here.'

You breathed a sigh of relief at hearing his voice reverberate in your head. Then, his words hit you.

'What do you mean he's not there?!'

'He really has gotten better. The banging was coming from a CD player.'

So Chono hadn't even been inside the box when they chained it up? Why wasn't Saiki back then? There was no point in him staying there. The 5-minute timer was up, and you watched Michael come into view, struggling to hold the swords he was about to pierce the crate with.

'Hurry, Kusuo- you need to come back.' You said, hoping he didn't hear the genuine concern and worry that filled your voice.

'I can't. I have to think fast; I can't just teleport back out. That power needs to be recharged for 3 minutes before I can use it again.'

You watched as the magician's assistant started to put the swords in one by one. 'Oh, crap.' 17 more to go.

'You there?'

How did Saiki plan on surviving this one? You couldn't help but stress.

'Yeah. No one could- except me. I dislocated almost every joint in my body.'

Dread pooled inside your stomach at his words.

'Are you okay?!'

'I'm not gonna lie- it hurts.'

You wracked your brain to try and find a way to help him, coming up empty. Sure, you wanted nothing to do with him, but you weren't comfortable knowing he was in pain. Why? You had no idea. You chose to blame it on common human decency but the feeling of your heart sinking suggested otherwise.

You watched as the tv crew hooked a line to the crate before it was announced that a crane would lift it and drop it 30 metres. You raised your hands to cover your face, moving your fingers so you could peer at the screen. 'The only way to avoid certain death... is...' You watched the crate collide with the floor, the bottom of it crumpling from the impact. '...To jump. Flawless timing.'

You stopped tensing, visibly relaxing, when you heard Saiki again. He had managed to save himself again. After the dust from the crash settled, the narrator on tv announced that the box would be set on fire. You furrowed your eyebrows- did they really need to go that far?

'Didn't even get a chance to catch my breath. At least with all the hot weather lately, I've been able to hone my psychic powers over temperature.' You really didn't know how to feel when the support crew lit a match and set the box alight. A steam roller came into view, and you watched on in horror.

'There's more?'

The pink-haired boy hadn't passed his 3-minute limitation over teleportation, so how on earth would he get out in time? Wait- how had the crew managed to do so much damage in that window of time? You knew what they would do; they planned to run over the box and flatten it completely, with Saiki still inside.

You watched the stream roller drive over the box, effectively crushing it under its wheels. You watched in silence, your heart practically beating out of your chest in worry. The narrator asked the audience how anyone could survive inside the box until lights turned on behind him, showcasing Chono.

"Hold on, who is that I see? It's the miraculous illusionist himself, Uryoko Chono! He's alive!" The crowd went wild, applauding and screaming at the trick. You could care less! Where was Saiki?! Was he okay?!!

'How annoying. His wasn't the only great escape, but I got lucky. The soil was extra soft.'

'...Did you dig a hole like some groundhog?'

You were just happy he was safe. God forbid you had to live with the fact that Saiki died and you had witnessed it. Then again, he was an all-powerful psychic- what did you expect? Of course, he'd make it out alive.

'I know. I said I liked tv because it can still surprise me- but this is too much.' Saiki was right; the amount of turmoil that today involved was not something you had mentally prepared yourself to handle. Exhaustion took over you, and you let yourself fall back onto Saiki's bed.

Was Saiki's life always like this? Downright disastrous to the point where it was funny? "Tres Bien, right?" Chono exclaimed when the narrator stated that the escape was great. You exhaled, placing your hands on your stomach and trying to relax.

"Hey, stick around for what's next-" Your head shot up, recognising the voice from the countless trailers you had seen for months plastered every time you opened up an app. It was the male lead of the new mystery show everyone was looking forward to.

Your mind worked at a million miles per hour, and you were sure there were drawings of algebra floating around you. Saiki was a psychic, and if he was near the new show's star, he'd no doubt hear spoilers from the actor.

'Kusuo, come back.'

'I can't; I still have 13 seconds to go.'

Great. The show he was looking forward to, the very reason he went to save Chono, was going to be spoilt because he chose to be a good human being. All because the lead actor was around, and of course, the guy knew what was to come- he had just finished filming it, after all.

You made a decision, one you knew you'd regret. Concentrating on getting your breathing under absolute control, you forced your mind to go blank. Then you imagined Saiki at the park he had transported to so he could save a certain magician.

You clenched your jaw. Saiki wasn't too far away, and if you used your immunity on him, it'd work, right? You reached out your hand in your mind, and when it came into contact with his shoulder, you saw what you were looking for.

Thin white strings, hundreds of thousands of them, that shot off in all different directions and disappeared into the distance when your eyes followed them. You had no doubt they were the strings that connected Saiki's mind to anyone in a 200-metre radius.

With your hand still on Saiki, you imagined the actor who starred in the show's premiere, the love interest. That's when you found the thin line connecting the two.

"The world premiere of a mystery called, 'Love Fantasy.' My character will try to uncover the mystery of his girlfriend's death." You ignored the faint voice of the actor; he sounded like he was speaking from within a tumble dryer.

You clenched your jaw at the pain invading your skull, ignoring it as you reached out, using your index and middle finger as make-shift scissors, closing the two to cut the string. All the while, you questioned why you had chosen to use your talents for the psychic. Oh, yeah, it was because you felt bad for the guy.

The moment you opened your eyes, the headache that you experienced for the better half of the day skyrocketed. Fuck, it hurt. You wished you had stayed on Saiki's bed.

Your vision began to swim, a familiar wave of nausea hitting you. You felt the ground shift beneath you, unable to do anything as you realised you would fall face-first into Saiki's table. You hoped it wouldn't bruise. You closed your eyes to brace for impact, expecting pain.

When it didn't come, you opened your eyes, using the last of your energy to do so. Why did they have to feel so heavy? You still couldn't see clearly, but what you could tell was that someone had caught you before you fell.

Your body was limp; try as you might, you couldn't get your limbs to listen to you. It hurt to breathe; the sharp pain in your ribs made sure of that. You couldn't even raise your head to see who had caught you. Saiki's dad?

"...od grief... what happene..." You strained your ears to hear whoever was talking to you, to no avail. You scrunched your eyes shut as another wave of nausea hit you. You felt yourself being picked up before being placed on something soft. The bed?

You took in sharp breaths, trying to ease the pain. No such luck. When you felt a hand on your forehead, you opened and squinted your eyes to see. Even with your fuzzy vision, you knew you recognised the pink you saw.

'Kusuo?' You thought at the psychic, hoping you had guessed right. 'Yes?' The relief that filled you, when the pain seemed to ease at the sound of Saiki's voice in your head- was incomparable.

'Is that you?' A brief pause followed, and he answered before you could think of anything else. 'Who else? How did this happen?' You closed your eyes again, assuming he was asking about your deteriorating condition. 'I used nullification on you.'

Silence followed for a few seconds, and you found yourself missing the sound of Saiki's voice inside your brain. 'Why?' Was all he had asked, and you looked at him. You could see his face clearly now, and if you weren't feeling like you were going to throw up the food Mrs Saiki had made for you earlier, you were sure you'd be flushed.

He was so close, you could feel his breath fan your face. You noticed the faint wrinkle in between his eyebrows, surmising it was due to worry. 'Because you were looking forward to watching the show, and that actor would have spoilt it by accident.'

You felt sheepish admitting it to him; it wasn't like it was your job to care to begin with. But you did, and you couldn't understand why. That question would have to wait; first, you had to get better.

'Good grief. Stop doing troublesome things.' Was all he replied with, and you had half a mind to furrow your eyebrows at him incredulousness. Your lips parted to shoot a retort at him, and that's when you saw it.

The corners of his mouth twitched. You were shell-shocked, your mouth gaping open at the sight. Was Saiki smiling at you? It was gone with a flash, replaced by his iconic deadpan. 'I was not.'

He totally was! What a tsundere, not even able to admit that some part of him was low-key touched that you had done something for him out of consideration. 'I'm not touched; what you did was stupid. You have a fever.' You could only huff at Saiki's statement with the last of your energy.

'Yeah, that's normal. I haven't used my abilities on someone as strong as you before.' Using your skills to turn off your immunity compared to using your nullification to sever a connection between two people was a huge leap.

Especially when it involved the world's most potent psychic to ever live. So, it was no surprise that the fevers you experienced as a child when Saiki was running around changing human biology with crazy hair colours- would make a comeback.

You were in no position to retaliate when Saiki picked you up and transported the two of you into your bedroom. The familiar feeling of your mattress helped relax your body.

'I'm leaving the second I can transport again.'

You said nothing as the pink-haired boy made quick work of tucking you under the covers and placed a cold compress on your forehead.

You half expected him to place a kiss on your forehead like you had seen in all the romance mangas you had read- where the female lead got sick, and the male lead took care of her. No kiss was exchanged. To your disappointment.

'Thank you.' That was all you could think at him. He turned his back to you, and then he was gone. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. The day had been nothing short of a disaster.

That's when you realised- Saiki had stayed longer than 3 minutes.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

The next day at school, nothing had changed. Something you were semi-glad for. You had thought things between you and Saiki would be awkward.

They weren't; when he saw you that morning, all he had done was nod at you, acknowledging your existence before he turned to face the blackboard at the front of the class. You ignored the disappointment you felt.

When the school bell signalled the end of the academic day, you got ready to pack your things and leave. That was until you noticed a light blue-haired boy walk up to Saiki, who was in front of you, ready to leave the classroom.

"Guess what? I've been summoned." You deadpanned at Kaidou's statement, something you were sure you picked up off of Saiki. Was he rubbing off on you? Nah, no way. Not possible. "If I told you why, I'd have to kill you both."

Your expression relaxed when Kaidou's eyes met yours, and you gave him a confused smile, signalling one thing. 'I don't know what the fuck you're on about.' You watched as the blue-haired boy puffed his chest like some peacock.

"But for now, let's just say the world's in store for some pretty big changes." With that, Kaidou waddled away like some penguin. What was with that walk, and why was his ass swaying side to side as he continued down the hallway?

"What? Did he make a friend?" Saiki asked, and you were surprised when he turned his head to the right to make eye contact with you. You looked back at him, still leaning half your body out of the classroom with your hands on the door frame. You simply shrugged your shoulders before the both of you gazed at where Kaidou had turned the corner.

When Saiki moved forward, going in the same direction, you took a step toward him. "Where are you going?" Saiki looked over his shoulder at you, "I'm going after him because I'm curious." He stated before continuing down the hallway. You decided you were too, so you followed in tow.

The two of you spotted Kaidou walk up to the doors leading to the storage room on the second floor. He whipped his head around to see if anyone else was about. You were caught off guard when Saiki pulled on your arm to hide the two of you behind a wall.

You were brought face to face with the pink hair's chest, and when you looked up, you realised he was staring down at you. Damn, he had a sharp jawline. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Saiki was sculpted by the likes of Micheal Angelo. You felt your ears burn and chose to ignore them. Why the fuck was he so close, and why was he caging you against the wall?

"It'll be troublesome if he sees us," Saiki stated as he stepped away from you. You shook your head to get rid of the thoughts that had been going through your mind before the two of you peered at the blue-haired boy from your hidden spot. "Thurisaz, isaz, hagalaz, sowilo, gebo, fehu." You couldn't help but think Kaidou sounded like he was summoning a demon. He must've taken his role as the Jet Black Wings very seriously.

When the door opened, the light blue-haired boy walked in. Saiki left your side and started to walk over to the door where Kaidou had been moments later. You followed soon after, and you strained your ears to hear what was happening in the room.

The following 5 minutes were nothing but painful. You heard two voices; one was Kiadou's, and the other, you guessed, was a student who must have been his friend. You and Saiki listened as the blue-haired boy claimed it was hard to believe that he used to be part of the Dark Reuinion before he figured out that the organisation was evil, went rogue, performed some technique when he got cornered and managed to transmigrate into Shun Kaidou's body when he was unborn.

Was this some sort of weird realistic roleplay? Sure, it was nice to have his fantasies come true through acting, but you weren't sure it was a good idea to spur on his delusions. Kaidou was too far gone already. His 'friend' told him that they would do anything to help Kaidou get his memories back because his power was needed.

Who was 'they'? You couldn't help but question the whole situation. Something about it felt sketchy. Kaidou seemed to have the same thought in mind, wondering who 'they' were. Apparently, there were four other phantoms in the room. It got weirder and weirder. The 'friend' claimed Kaidou couldn't see them, and that meant he could never help.

Kaidou jumped to try and save face, saying he could see the phantoms. What a joke. You weren't so curious anymore; now you just wanted to leave. You stopped paying attention to the conversation until you heard the 'friend' exclaim, "Stop!" followed by, "Mannaz, ingwaz, wunjo!"

Great, someone else that liked to blurt gibberish. You cringed when you heard Kaidou's friend state that the Dark Reunion had gotten into the room and killed the four phantoms. Since when could phantoms die? Wasn't all of this too much? You had to commend the 'friend' for staying in character so long; if it was you- you would have burst out laughing by then.

The friend stated that they needed to create a barrier to protect them before telling Kaidou to place all metal objects into the bag since it would interfere. Now things were just getting ridiculous. When Kaidou asked if the change had to be given as well, and that's when the realisation hit you.

The whole thing was a scam. That kid was trying to steal all of Kaidou's money under the guise of roleplay! What was worse- was that the poor blue-haired boy believed the whole thing was real. The only thing Kaidou actually got out of the entire thing was losing his wallet. Poor guy didn't even get to take his train pass back. This new friend of his was pure evil.

'Good grief.' You heard Saiki think at you, 'Good grief, indeed.'

The 'friend' told Kaidou that the Jet Black Wings was a saviour and to come back at the same time tomorrow. Something about not forgetting to do the sworn ally absolution. Panic resurfaced inside you when you heard the doorknob turn.

Looking left to right hurriedly, you barely had a chance to notice that Saiki wrapped a hand around your waist and teleported you inside the room. When your gaze refocused, you realised you were behind some sort of curtain. You had no idea why Saiki didn't decide to handle things on his own, instead opting to take you with him.

'Why couldn't you have just left me out there? I don't want to get involved-' You stopped mid-thought when Saiki looked down at you and glared. The audacity he had- to not only drag you into this mess but make you feel like you were in the wrong for complaining. You huffed to yourself in annoyance but stayed quiet non the less.

You proceeded to fold your arms over your chest, only for you to realise that, in your exasperation, you hadn't noticed that Saiki was still holding onto you. He stepped away, putting distance between you two the second the thought crossed your mind, something you tried not to be hurt over. Why? You didn't quite understand yourself.

You didn't have time to dwell on it; the guy who scammed Kaidou stole your attention when he spoke up. "That guy and his stupid fantasies are the best thing ever. He couldn't tell the absolution was my homework. All I had to do was play along with him. I even got the idiot to give me his wallet!" What a disaster. Poor Kaidou got ripped off and taken advantage of, all because of his Chuunibyu complex.

'What a pain. Kaidou, as your one friend, I'm telling you- do a better job choosing your other friends.' The exasperation in Saiki's voice was palpable. How would you break the news to the poor blue-haired boy? That his new friend was a good-for-nothing liar.

The sad excuse of a swindler was still gushing over how he had tricked Kaidou, and you could only shake your head. Would dumping the truth work better? Or hinting at it? Saiki already had a plan in mind, you realised, as the lights turned off in the room. "What the? Who did that?" The scammer asked.

“Dark reunion.”

What happened to the guy in glasses next was not spoken of after.

When Kaidou dragged the both of you to the same room the day after, the whole place was trashed, and the words dark reunion were plastered on the wall. The latter was your handiwork.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

"Hey buddy, ready for the beach? I was walking by, and I saw the last name Saiki on the mailbox, so I figured this must be where ol' Kusuo lives." Nendou stood in the doorway, explaining himself as he pointed at the mailbox, a blow-up dolphin in his other hand. He was dressed for the day, clad in a red shirt with floral patterns and shorts.

You made eye contact with Saiki only to get a glare back. You looked off to the side, feeling like you were in trouble. 'Why are you here?' That was an excellent question, indeed. If only you had stayed home, Nendou wouldn't have spotted you on the streets and dragged you along for a day by the seaside. You looked to Saiki again, 'I didn't choose to come here of my own free will.'

You were still somewhat peeved that you didn't get a say in the matter. Nendou had assumed a yes from you and decided for himself that you would accompany him.

"Ku-Ku-Kusuo, is this your friend?" For a second, you thought Mrs Saiki was terrified of Nendou. Something you wouldn't fault her for; he did look like a gangster, after all. "He's not my friend." Saiki's comment fell on deaf ears as Mrs Saiki burst into tears, a handkerchief manifesting into her hands out of nowhere. "Oh, dear! My little boy finally has a friend. I'm so happy!"

This was definitely one of the reasons why you loved Saiki's mom; she was just too precious. "Sorry girly girl, but me and him ain't friends- we're best buddies!" Mrs Saiki burst into tears again, "Oh, dear! My little boy's finally getting a normal life!"

"I never knew you had a sister, pal." That comment practically made Mrs Saiki putty in Nendou's hands. She gushed about how the wannabe gangster thought she was young enough to look like Saiki's sister. You couldn't tell if Nendou was buttering her up or if he was being serious. Knowing him, it was probably the latter.

'How many times is he going to maker her cry?' Saiki wondered from next to you. 'At least they're tears of joy.' A warm smile stretched on your lips; the woman needed to be protected at all costs. Movement in your peripherals broke you from your thoughts. You turned to Saiki, who was stood beside you, looking up at him when you felt his stare on you.

His lips parted as if he was about to say something when Saiki's mom commented that Nendou taking Saiki to the beach sounded like fun. "Uh, yeah, I'm not going." The smile on Mrs Saiki's face disappeared in an instant, and the glare she shot Saiki's way sent chills down your spine. "Your best buddy went out of his way to ask you in person. You're going to the beach, Kusuo."

"Oh, dear."

A snicker fell out your lips, and you immediately covered your mouth with your hand so as to not draw attention to yourself. By then, it was too late; your plans to quietly try and slip away from the group were foiled by your own hands. Mrs Saiki started to gush over you instead, and the plan to spend a lazy day indoors seemed to be further and further away.

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That's how you and Saiki ended up going to the beach. Kaidou had joined the group as well, something you pitied when you observed how much Nendou teased him about being afraid of the water. You watched from your seat on the blanket next to Saiki as Kaidou denied it all, fresh tears in his eyes. "N-no. Th-that's not true. I know how to swim, jerk. I-I'm not afraid of the water." You almost felt bad for him; why was he here again?

'Well, he's turned on the waterworks.' Ironic. Saiki's comment nearly made you choke on your drink, and you coughed. The psychic's hand on your back, patting lightly, surprised you, to say the least, but you welcomed it. Anything to clear your airways. You chalked up the help to him feeling guilty.

You watched as Kaidou proceeded to enter the sea, only to slip and start drowning in inch-deep water. That's when you decided the second-hand embarrassment was too much to handle, standing up to take off your top so you could go swimming.

You stopped in the middle of your task, your crossed hands still clasped around the ends of your top as you turned to Saiki, who stared you down. 'Yes, I'm leaving you here. You're on your own, nerd.' You thought at him, glancing between Saiki and his book. He stayed silent, only glaring at you over his glasses. You could tell what he was thinking already; how could you just leave him?

You looked from Saiki to Hairo, whose pants had slipped when he ran to save Kaidou from drowning, Nendou- who stared at the other girls on the beach, then back to the psychic.

'Yeah, I'm not about to watch any more of their shenanigans; I'm out of here.'

You greeted Hairo briefly and walked towards the water in time to overhear that the red-haired boy had decided to volunteer as a lifeguard over the summer.

You walked further into the water until you couldn't feel the sand underneath your feet and started to swim further out until the voices of your classmates sounded distant.

Sighing, you floated on your back and stared up at the sun. The weather was way too warm, and you hated the heat because of how it caused you to sweat. At least now you could have some peace and quiet; your social battery had run out a while back.

The silence didn't last long, you felt a ripple in the water, and you opened one eye, only to realise the cause was Saiki. He sat on a blue swimming ring that had sun patterns on it. That's when you noticed he was shirtless, only wearing his yellow swimming trunks, and you tried not to stare, opting to look at the beach instead, coughing awkwardly.

You watched as a group of girls ran across the sand, Nendou not far behind, chasing them. "I don't want people knowing I'm with him." You had to agree with Saiki; being associated with Nendou was never a good thing. Looking away from the girls running away in terror on the beach, you looked back at the young esper.

'I get that- but why did you have to come here?'

'I draw less attention when I'm with you than when I'm by myself.'

'So, you're using me?'

‘Don’t make it weird.’

There was a brief pause before Saiki looked back at the beach. He sighed, closed his eyes, and then tilted sideways until his body crashed against the water. You shot up, no longer floating on your back. You kicked your legs to stay above the waves and looked around to see if you could spot Saiki.

'You won't find me. I'm on the seabed. When I want to be alone or get some serious thinking done, I come down here. I find the seafloor relaxing.'

You jumped in your skin at the sound of his voice in your head. You raised an eyebrow to yourself when your brain registered what he had said. You didn't get the chance to reply to him, the sound of Nendou shouting stealing your attention.

"Saiki! You going pee-pee?!"

'Oh man, next time, I'll have to go deeper. Better go back before they start looking.'

You stopped paying attention to what Saiki was thinking at you when you noticed a girl in the water. Was she... She was drowning! Your body moved before you could think. The water around you splashed violently as you started swimming, trying to get to her as fast as you could.

You heard Nendou and Kaidou in the distance. Now hang on a minute, you swore the blue-haired boy had no idea how to swim- how had he made it this far out? As if on cue, Kaidou started drowning as well. You relaxed somewhat when you watched Nendou save the idiot, carrying him on his back.

By then, you had made it to the girl, the other two boys still making their way towards you. You tried to grab onto her to save her, only for her to jump on you in her panic. You realised then that both of you were screwed. "Calm down-" You don't get to finish your sentence as you felt your body give way under her weight.

You ended up underwater along with the girl, your legs spent and tired. Surely, this wasn't how things ended. You had so much left to do! So many sites to see! Your mind went into overdrive as you sank deeper.

When you felt something brush against your feet under the water, you nearly lost all your composure; the safety of your classmates and the random girl next to you was no longer your priority. You calmed down when you recognised the pink underneath the clear waves.

'What a pain. Everyone around me is so needy.'

Saiki placed his hands on your waist and effortlessly lifted you until your head was above water. Your fight or flight kicked in, adrenaline pumping through your veins, and your legs started kicking lightly to keep you afloat. You looked around until your eyes landed on Nendou, who was standing on the water as if it was a solid surface, with Hairo, Kaidou and the drowning girl from earlier on his back.

"What? Nendou, you're walking on water!" Hairo exclaimed as he looked down. "When'd you learn how to do that?!" Kaidou chimed in, and you already knew the answer. It was Saiki, using his strength to lift them all up so they wouldn't drown. You watched as all four of them sped off towards the sand.

'See? I told him he'd have more luck walking on water than picking up girls.'

You snorted to yourself at Saiki's comment before tilting your body so you were on your back, letting the waves carry you as you caught your breath. You closed your eyes, exhaustion kicking in as the adrenaline ran out. Your eyes opened when you felt the water move, making you slightly lose your balance.

You opened your eyes, squinting as the sun invaded your gaze, only for you to see Saiki. He turned around in the water, showing you his back, "Get on. I'll carry you to the beach." His closed statement left no room for discussion, and even if it had you, you were too tired to argue.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, mindful not to squeeze too hard and rested your head on him as he swam you back to the beach. You tried not to pay attention to how close the two of you were or how you could feel his body heat since he didn't have a top on.

After throwing your top back on, you watched as the girl who nearly drowned you apologised to Nendou. "Sorry I joked about how ugly your face is." She said and you guessed it was her way of thanking him for saving her. "Hmph, I'm glad you didn't ask for her number in return for your heroics," Kaidou said, giving the wannabe gangster a nod of approval.

"Heh, I try to be a gentleman, but if that hottie fell in love with me, I'm not gonna turn her down," Nendou replied, closing his eyes as if he was proud. You had to give it to him, the man had confidence. You walked alongside Saiki as you left Hairo and the girl.

"She wouldn't," Kaidou whispered under his breath, a smirk on his face. Nendou whipped his head around to shout at him. "What'd you say?!" The day at the beach ended and finally, you could go home.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

bonus:

After the four of you got back in town, Nendou and Kaidou split off so they could head home, Truth be told, that was the plan for you as well until Saiki stopped you.

"Do you want to come back to my house?" You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow at him at the suggestion. You were sure he thought of you as a nuisance like everyone else, yet here he was inviting you to his place.

"Don't get any weird ideas. Mom told me to bring you back for dinner. She likes having you around." Mrs Saiki hadn't specifically told him to bring you back, but Saiki did know that she liked your company. A small smile graced your face at the sentiment. Being liked by someone else's parents was a different type of validation. You shrugged and walked beside him back to the Saiki Household.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

next part - alexithymia

general taglist:

@biscuit-buddy @gvthic-gvrl @dunnieko @milkierei @kyrasworld @baby-unidorn @moonflowerpetals @the-mellokid @bangtxnbby @alexiswheeze @tanzaniiite @mo0o0milk @omilkandhoneyteao @turntechsquishy @gukkarchive @peachesuck @hartbeat-art @franko-pop @ima-attention-whore @ola-is-dead @daisysinadarkmedow @froppysgirl @xjaelee @beanst0ck @llamaavocado @tanakassimp @kooksmono @loving-is-the-antidote @toebios @tvwhoresblog @delta-698 @victory-is-here @chuchaycha @saeranoppa @erinbing @draco-kasai @nocturnalcreature998 @just-snog-already @sunnsettee @saikikslut @juju-la-tortue @plutoneu @womanizerbucky @bakugohoex @thatasiandumbass @krazyotakunerd @totallyinlovewithsaiki @kenmascockwarmer @squishiyy @choridion @memorableminds @kyrah-williams @animeboysimppp @soft-levi-girl-blog @aunty-grandma @mindofess @beccawinter @valeriasannchez @unlimitedsimping @bigdumbobsessedbi @tanzaniiite @introvertatitsfinest @windex-princess-ami @knighted-princess @vernon-dursley @emeraldbluexxxx @iwachanslove @skelingtonfreak @dora-the-grownup @peachymichu @amaranth-fuchsia @strawberryjam8 @notaroyal @chaeyal @kuntent-t @heyitsmelilly @mango-bear @sugaamykookies @mrs-todo-roki @joyidonuts @hxney-lemcn @prlan @quiescentelle @alexloveskili @subtropicace @hoshi4k @echothepuff @kindalollipop @ameliabs-world @babyshoyo @animedweeb333 @celamoon @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @froggi666 @loser-keiji @lucilleifer @lunachelly @kaylenn @queenof-saigon @dudufodd @multifandomcat @fresa-luna @kohi-zeri @anyaswrld @saltandapepper @scar8o @where-i-do-things @potatochic2003 @fishfetus @chaotic-fangirl-blog @acidicloveee @noodlenerd101 @aurorakingsley @crystalgman25 @healpeony @chims-kookies @track5enthusiast @mommymi1kers @aboveasphodel @strawberriesareprettycool @princeizuku @mythical-mushrooms13 @stellalorelei @cole-silas @queenof-saigon @thecupcakezombie @dudufodd @multifandomcat @multifandoms99 @skylarmoon119 @hyejoolips @soggyxfroggy @imkumichan @honeyyslvt @theawkwardspork @gabile18 @magikmina @ampheenix @siriusly1 @elwasheree @itsskyvoltage @luna-astro @r4td0lll

#saiki #saiki kusuo #the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki x reader #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #Nendou Riki #Kaidou Shun #uryoko chono #kurumi saiki #saiki kuniharu #hairo kineshi #fluff #crack

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goldenempyrean · 4 months

Text

Making Amends

« Day 18: Making Up »

« Pairing: Lena Luthor x Reader »

« Notes: sorry this is a little late, I’ve been busy and just needed a little time to polish it up! I’ll fix the title in the morning ;) »

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙〘 Advent 2023 Masterlist! 〙

“Lena I don’t want to hear it!” You growled the words as your girlfriend tried to explain why she had been home so late. This wasn’t the first time it had happened. You knew how she struggled with communicating or losing track of her work sometimes but this was different. She had promised go be home on time. She had promised to share the evening together with you, like you’d planned. She had promised to make the anniversary of your relationship special.

It didn’t matter now anyway. The dinner you’d made sat untouched on the table, stone cold. You didn’t even want to hear her reasoning for being late. You already knew in at heart. She’d gotten caught up in her work and had simply forgotten. Thats how it always went.

In the tense silence that followed, Lena's eyes pleaded for understanding, but you couldn't bring yourself to soften. Frustration and disappointment lingered in the air, wrapping around both of you like an unwelcome shroud. As you stood there, the weight of unmet expectations pressed on your shoulders. The room felt like it was growing hotter. Getting smaller. Everything seemed to sway and swoon as your vision hazed in and you out of focus. You needed some fresh air and you needed it now.

You stormed out of the apartment, the door slamming shut behind you - not even bothering to grab a jacket. The cool night air hit your face, providing a momentary relief from the stifling tension inside. Your mind raced with a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion. As you walked the dimly lit streets, you found yourself at a nearby park, seeking solace under the stars. Looking up at the unknown was always something that relaxed you. The endless possibilities of space. At heart you knew it wasn’t Lena’s fault entirely. She’d come home exhausted just last week as a result of the stress work had been causing her but it just hurt when her work got in the way of your personal lives.

The distant rumble of thunder interrupted your thoughts, and as you looked up at the night sky, raindrops began to fall. The gentle drizzle soon turned into a steady rain, drenching you in seconds. The cool water on your face felt strangely soothing. It was a good kind of cold.

However even the rain seemed to turn on you as you shivered involuntarily and giving a reluctant sigh, you decided to finally head back home. The rain soaked through your clothes as you hurried back, each step feeling heavier than the last. By the time you reached your apartment, you were drenched and exhausted. The door creaked open, revealing the aftermath of your heated argument. It was quiet inside. Lena had most likely retreated to the bedroom into the bedroom. But you were unwilling to face the bedroom just yet, so instead you settled on the living room sofa. It wasn’t warm nor did you have a blanket but sneaking into the bedroom to grab a change of clothes wasn’t exactly something you were eager to do.

Instead you curled up on the sofa, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of the wet clothes against your cold skin. Turning over you let your head fall onto one of the pillows and you shut your eyes, hoping to slip into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning, you awoke with a heavy head and a throat that felt like it had been scraped with sandpaper. The remnants of last night's argument lingered in your mind, but they were overshadowed by the unmistakable signs of an impending illness. Stupid rain. Stupid cold. Stupid lack of a jacket! With a groan, you dragged yourself out of the makeshift bed on the sofa, your body protesting every movement as forced yourself to get dressed for work.

Despite the creeping heat of an uncoming fever seeping through your body, you trudged into the DEO, determined to fulfill your responsibilities as a agent there.

Colleagues shot concerned glances your way, but you brushed them off with a forced smile. The familiar hum of the high-tech agency felt louder than usual, pounding against your throbbing head.

As you attempted to focus on your tasks, the overhead intercom crackled to life. "Agent Y/L/N, report to Director Danvers' office immediately," the stern voice echoed through the facility causing you to grumble in annoyance as you pushed yourself up stumbled towards Alex's office.

Upon entering, you found yourself friend sitting at her drsk, concern etched across her face. "You look terrible," she remarked, her voice a mix of sympathy and scolding. "I've already called Lena. She'll pick you up. You need to go home and rest. You can’t work like this.”

“Ale-“ You couldn’t even begin to sigh her name before you were interrupted with a rough throat scraping cough, “Why did you-“

She raised a stern eyebrow before pulling a bottle of water out from her drawer and sliding it over the desk towards you, “That’s exactly why. I’m not just telling you this as your boss but as your friend. You’re sick. You need to go home. This is not an option.” You knew Alex’s stern voice and this was definitely it. There really was no point arguing with her, she was the director after all.

Lena didn’t take long to arrive. Less than 10 minutes which was very impressive given the traffic at this hour. All it took was one look at you sitting slumped in Alex’s office, your exhausted drooping eyes looking up at her as a box of tissues sat open in your lap to make her heart melt.

Your girlfriend was by your side in an instant, concern etched across her face. "How did this happen?" She crouched down, brushing a gentle hand over your forehead, her keen eyes not missing the subtle way you tensed beneath her touch.

The weight of the previous night's argument lingered in the air, but the genuine worry in Lena's expression softened the edges of the tension between you. She spoke with a gentle tone, "You should have told me you weren't feeling well, darling. I hate seeing you like this."

You managed a weak smile, appreciating Lena's concern despite the strained circumstances. "I didn't want to bother you. Besides, we had enough on our plates with everything - last night - already."

Lena shook her head, her fingers brushing through your hair comfortingly. "You're never a bother to me. We're in this together, remember?" She glanced up at Alex, who had been pretending to make herself busy in order to not intrude on your conversation, "I'll take her home, Thanks for looking out for her."

Alex nodded, her stern facade softening. "Always. Now you two ake care of each other. And Y/N, don't come back until you're fully recovered. That’s an order. I’ll come round tomorrow to check in if you’re feeling up to it.” She smiled over at you.

Lena helped you up, offering a supportive arm as you made your way out of the DEO. The car ride home was quiet at first, both of you lost in your thoughts. Lena finally spoke, breaking the silence, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I know I messed up last night, and I should have been there for you."

You sighed, leaning your head against the car window. The cool glass working wonders to soothe your pounding temples. “I overreacted, Lena. It wasn't just about last night. It's this constant struggle with your work taking precedence over us. I miss us, Lena, and I just want to find a balance." You sniffled.

Lena's grip on the steering wheel tightened, and she took a deep breath. "I promise, Y/N, I'll make it up to you. We'll figure this out together. I love you, and I don't want us to keep hurting each other like this."

As she parked the car, you both sat in almost silence for a moment. The rain from the previous night was still pattering down, drumming against the windows as it filled the car with its steady thrum. Lena turned to you, her eyes sincere, "Let's take care of you first. We can talk about this more later, okay? You’re the most important thing to me right now and right now what you need to be is looked after. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗 @natashamaximoff69 @lovelyy-moonlight @santana1437 @kljhsong @inluvwithfictionalwomen @shamelessbearunknown @kathleenmikaelson @bloomingflowersthings @observeowl @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @somber-sapphic @lexasaurs634 @nayarianna1302 @itsarandomblog @scarlettssub @villaneve4life @demonicbaby666 @wandanats-goodgirl @nuianced-tck-enby @maomaoincomming @anne-lister

#lena luthor #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x y/n #lena luthor x fem!reader #lena luthor x you #lena luthor imagine #supergirl #lena luthor whump #lena luthor sickfic #lena luthor angst #lena luthor fluff #fluff #comfort #caretaking #angst #whump #supergirl sickfic #empyrean's advent 2023

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noforkingclue · 2 months

Note

I hope you don’t mind me coming in with another request — you’re reblogging amazing prompt lists and I can’t help myself!!

Would you be willing to do something for Carmy Berzatto with this prompt: giving their honest opinion when it's asked ?

Thanks so much! 🧡

Of course! Come in with as many requests as you want :D

I know right! The people who make those lists are fucking incredible!!!

Anyway, hope you like the fic :)

Title: Taste Test

Prompt list: link

Everything tag list: greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

“Hey, are you busy?”

You glanced up from your work at a nervous looking Carmy. Well, Carmy always seemed nervous but this seemed different. He was more on edge than normal.

“If you are that’s fine,” he said quickly, “I can always-”

“I’m always free for you.” you interrupted

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Colour rose on Carmy’s cheeks and you smiled softly at him. You stood up from your desk and approached him and took his hands, squeezing them gently.

“What can I help you with?” you asked

“Well there’s a new dish I’m creating…”

“Oh?”

“And I was wondering-”

Carmy cut himself off and shook his head before looking away.

“Doesn’t fucking matter.”

You cupped his cheek and turned his head so he was looking back at you. You could see the nerves in his eyes and you said,

“If you’re worried about it then it matters. What do you want me to do.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to…”

“Yes?”

“Taste it for me?”

You beamed at him and nodded enthusiastically.

“Of course!” you said

“Really?”

“Yep!”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“Of course not.”

You practically dragged Carmy into your dining room and sat down at the table. You could still see the uncertainty in Carmy’s eyes but you could also see the fondness coming through. The two of you had been dating for almost a year, you could still see the uncertainty when it came to asking your opinion on things. He was opening up more to you but it was a slow process but you didn’t care. You loved Carmy either way.

“Here it is,” a dish was placed in front of you, “and I want you to be honest with me.”

“I’m always honest with you.”

“As honest as you fucking want,” Carmy sat down opposite you, “I guarantee that I’ve heard worse.”

He gave you what he probably thought was a reassuring smile but you could still see the nerves in his eyes. Slowly you picked up a fork and took a bite of the food.

“Wow,” you said, mouth still full, “fucking wow.”

“You like it?”

“That’s fucking incredible.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“You’re not just saying that? I can handle the criticism.”

“I don’t have any.”

“You sure? It’s not too salty. I was worried that I added a bit too much.”

“It’s perfect. Are you going to add this to the menu?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“I think you should.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“But-”

Again he cut himself off. Carmy rested his hands on the table and linked his fingers together. He rested his forehead against them and you gave him a sad smile. You reached across the table and tapped the top of his head. He looked up and you put your hands on top of his.

“The others are going to love it.” you said

“How did- are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Because I do and if they have anything to say against it then they’ll have to answer to me. Now, let me finish this and I’ll help with the dishes.”

#fanfiction #the bear #reader insert #request #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader

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itsgodepi · 1 month

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If I lose my mind | Ch. 9

Series summary: When life has given you more than enough lemons and you cannot figure out how to make a lemonade, the only way to make it work is to get rid of the whole basket. But was it neccesary to send you to a whole different dimension for that? A juicer would have done the job, really. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 2.7k Also on AO3

You recognize his laugh now. Not the one recorded by the nosy photographers or the overstepping interviewers, but the real one. The way he leans his head to the side and his eyes turn into beautiful crescent moons. Those low chuckles as well, so carefree and sweet, resounding in your head and bringing you back to the hundreds of videos saved in your camera roll, the ones you have been watching for nights on end since you found that phone.

It is difficult to decipher if the goosebumps raising in your skin come from the happiness the mere sound induces inside you, or the fear of realizing how deep you have been dragged into this nightmare.

After landing in Belgium, Daniel’s first instinct had been to send you a message, an invite out for dinner which he admitted was long overdue. Two months had already gone by since you fainted in Austria —or better said, the day you woke up surrounded by a whole Formula 1 team in an unknow place—, two months since he fought with Nick in the middle of the track and promised to ‘talk later’. Two months.

Safe to say you were surprised enough to ignore the hundreds of messages higher on the chat. It’s better to take in this kind of news one by one.

“My friend said the steak tartare was amazing, you should have a look at it” Daniel offers when you lower your eyes to the menu, skimming over the dishes as if that could help you ignore the tingling on your stomach

Pursing your lips, you finally focus your gaze on the words written before you. “I don’t know if…” you begin to show your doubts about the raw dish, trying to locate it on the menu among the rest of unrecognizable food names.

Daniel can see the exact second you find it.

“Don’t you dare look at the price,” the driver threatens when your eyes widen at the quantity, eyebrows furrowed as you wonder if the meat is wrapped in gold or something “You’re not paying again, I’m telling you!”

“What do you mean again?” you ask through a chuckle, scanning the rest of the menu for a more reasonable option. After all, it is always Daniel who passes you gummies and other unhealthy treats under Nick’s nose when you are on the track, and not the other way around. It would have been impossible anyway, it’s only recently that you have acquired some form of payment.

Daniel calls for the waiter after a shake of his head, a smirk falling of his lips “Yeah, sure, I’ll let you play dumb now... gave them my card already, so no use in sneaking to the bathroom and paying behind my back”

To be fair, although you doubt you could have invited Daniel to more than a sip of coffee in the short time you’ve know him —you absolutely do not have the kind of money needed to invite a Formula One driver out, that’s become obvious, those kinds of antics do ring a bell or two.

After all, you may have picked them up from the best at that type of tricks: your father.

On your time away from home, you have found yourself holding onto the little pieces of your family which have so easily become a part of your personality over the years. Your father’s silent gestures of love, your mother’s caring nature, and honestly, being unable to talk to them had taken a toll on you. Probably, that is why you had melt into a poodle of tears when you heard your dad’s voice on the phone.

“¿A ti te parece normal estar dos meses sin llamar a tus padres? (Does it seem normal to you to go two months without calling your parents?) "

Even hearing his scoldings felt like the most precious moment of your life.

Charles had come crashing into the room as soon as he heard your cries, kneeling beside you on the floor thinking you might have hurt yourself with how fast you had run away to your room. His concerned look rapidly turning into one of confusion when you firmly held his hand and whispered between sobs “It’s my dad!”

The discovery of this new device had not only opened a channel of communication with your family, which had both been a blessing and a curse, but also brough an infinity of unanswered questions. Although the first few minutes of your conversation had been centered around your mother’s question about your wellbeing and if you had been eating well, it had not taken long until that precious moment was broken. After checking that you had been doing alright and apologizing for not talking to them, your father could not hold it any longer and started gushing about the amazing few races you had had before the break.

A reality check so sudden that it takes your breath away.

Their happiness and eagerness to congratulate you on the highest place of your career, managed to sober you up completely. You heart sinking with every compliment they threw at you, their desire to see you climb up in the sport, to see you win one day. “It will come” your mother says, as if any of this was real. As if they were real.

When you finally found your voice again, you had cut the conversation short with promises to call them soon —even if the mere thought of it made you nauseous.

This encounter only renewed your desire to break free from what had become you own personal prison, and that device was a new key for your escape. While the phone you had been carrying since the start of this journey only had a couple numbers from the team members saved on it, this one was filled to the brim with messages, photos,... a whole life encased in such a small object. Your life?

And somehow a main character in a large part of them was the man in front of you.

“You sure you don’t want to taste it?” Daniel queries with a half-smile, having clearly caught the way your eyes followed the delicious looking cake as the waiter placed it on the table

The colors rise to your cheeks in shyness, looking to the side while you jokingly sigh “Daniel, I won’t fit in the car if I keep eating...”

“You’ll drive mine then” he quickly resolves, taking a huge piece of the treat and offering the spoon to you. Honestly, you had swapped the list of amazingly sounding desserts for a simple tea because you felt too full to even think of eating anything else, but a spoonful of cake can’t hurt, right? “Have to wear the McLaren suit though”

Although you do it unconsciously, the look you give Daniel over the mouthful of cake, tells him everything he needs to know regarding your opinion on the bright orange race suit. The driver lets out a loud laugh, putting on his disbelieving facade as if that hadn’t been his intention in the first place.

“So nice hearing you criticize my team’s color, really, I don’t know why we stopped having lunch together. Yeah, not a clue...” Daniel scoffs, digging into his plate to drown his fabricated sorrows. So dramatic.

“I didn’t even talk!” you quip back to his amusement, just now having managed to get through the enormous bite of cake. Daniel only response is a disapproving shake of his head, and you let him have this one as you stir your tea. You are more interested in the second part of his grumbles “Why did we stop though?”

“Don’t know... I guess with the whole start of the season, new team and everything” Daniel relays with a frown, gesturing to the air as if to explain that life had gotten in between what seemed to be a tradition the two of you had. “And also, that fucking diet...” the driver snickers with a roll of his eyes, having thrown that last jab as joke to lighten up the mood after such serious turn of the conversation.

However, a soon as your eyes meet, he knows it’s been a misstep —even if it is just a coincidence that what he thinks is your how dare you say that? look is more of a what diet are you talking about? Look.

“Sorry, ‘shouldn't have said that” Daniel apologizes straight away, leaning back into his seat with a sigh and the last piece of the cake. The time it takes him to munch on the treat is enough for him to debate whether or not he should make his opinion on such an important cmatter. Finally, he opts for a more conservative approach “It’s just... you already know what I think about it. Nick too”

The mention of your Formula One trainer’s name makes all the alarms go off in your head, more so when the last time you saw them together, they were having a pretty heated conversation in the middle of a Grand Prix “Is that why you fought with Nick?”

You try to appear outwardly calm about the situation, swirling what’s left of your tea as if your hands weren’t trembling in anticipation. This is it, at last, some real information. Not some meaningless clues which do nothing but mess with your poorly constructed theories.

Your grandmother’s necklace burns against your chest, the feeling grounding you against all the thoughts brimming on your head. After all, the piece of jewelry is still the only fragment of an ever-distant reality, one you have kept safe and close to your heart ever since you found. You rest your hand over the pendant, sensing the heat even through the fabric of your blouse, as you wait for the response.

He brushes a hand over his curls, looking everywhere but at you. “Yeah, kind of... I mean,” he accepts, clicking his tongue and taking in a big breath, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it plain and clear. Daniel takes a second to reorganize his thoughts, straightening up in his chair and leaning his arms over the table in deep thought. However, when you think he’s managed to make up his mind and talk, the only words that come out his lips are “Look, we shouldn't talk about this now”

A frown instantly forms on your expression at the premise, jaw set as you prepare yourself to most likely yell at Daniel everything that’s been on your mind thorough your time trapped here —whatever here means. You were finally going to clear one of the millions of unknowns surrounding this dream or whatever this is, and the man has the audacity to want to leave this incredibly important conversation for later. Oh, hell no.

“No, listen” Daniel tries to settle your worries, having perfectly recognized the signs of what was about to come for him, from the slight closing of you hand over the table to the uncredulous grin lightly lifting the side of your lips “We’ll talk in the ride back to the track. C’mon, I’ll drive you”

The soft sound of the radio fills the silence on the way out of the parking, a ballad which does absolutely not fit the speed at what your mind is running. Daniel can probably feel the weight of your stare, trying to let him have some space since it seems to be a sensitive topic for him, but so eager to learn what transpired between the two of them.

The driver decides to preface his explanation with a “Don't get mad at me, okay?”, a strained smile pulling at his lips. For starters, that sentence does sound familiar. “I know I should stay out of it, and I think... well, no, I know! I know you’ve been really stressed out lately, that everything’s different now and all of that. I mean, they won't shut up about the fucking ‘second year in F1’ or whatever”

Daniel tries to check your reaction out of the corner of his eye, his thoughts, although disorganized, always careful of your feelings. Yet, you can only regard him with a confused look.

“What I’m trying to say is... I think you’ve been pushing yourself too hard” the driver lets out, the words flowing out of him like they have been weighting him for too long. His urge to explain his intentions straight away, showing how much of a push back he was expecting from your part "Again, I’m not trying to start an argument, I’m just worried about you! I’ve seen you training, seen that diet... this is not good for you”

You’ve kept your eyes in the road in front thorough the conversation, taking in how concerned he has been about you. You had never seen this side of Daniel, he has always seen friendly and eager to help whenever you needed, but nothing had ever seen this deep. Still, you don’t understand what any of this has to do with his fight with Nick.

“I understand that...” you acknowledge his worries, making a mental note to check everything he said later. In the time you had spent following this professional motorsport driver schedule, none of it had seemed as harsh to you as he had mentioned. Maybe something changed? Why though? “So, Nick and you talked about that? Is that it?”

“Well, yes, Nick and I kind of had a... disagreement, yeah, we can call it that. About this new training plan you had going on. We had already talked about it like, back in Canada, and obviously nothing came out of it. But after Austria...” Daniel lets a second go while he enters the road, a harder grip on the steering wheel than needed. “Listen, I know we haven’t talked about it at all, I don’t know if you and Nick did?”

You almost want to laugh at the supposition, your trainer had shut down any attempts of talking about it the day after the incident, so you had eventually given up “No, nothing”

“I didn’t want to pressure you into talking about it but... We got really scared that day. I went to celebrate your qualy and, suddenly, you started panicking and freaking out! I didn’t know what to do, and then you fell unconscious. Do you remember any of it?” the driver wonders, his voice showcasing the whirlwind of emotions he went through despite the fact that he might be giving you a diluted version of what went down. You can only nod at him, the memories fresh on your mind “When they took you to the hospital, I thought, they for sure won’t let her race tomorrow, right? And then I see you on the track, all dressed up again, I couldn’t believe it...”

“Didn’t Nick say he sent you a text?” you try to fill in, fingers fiddling with your own phone. Two months might have passed, but the images of that day keep replaying in your mind every single night.

Daniel clicks his tongue in disbelief, eyes still focused on the road “Yes, he sent me two fucking lines saying the doctor discharged you, that you were fine and that’s literally it. You can take my phone and see it for yourself! I kept blowing up his phone but that’s the only thing he would say: exhaustion, she’s alright”

That would explain the way Daniel approached you in Austria, how furious he had been with Nick after the secrecy with which the incident had been treated. The first thing he asked you that day was if you were alright, after the pre-race activities had finished and as away from the public as he could knowing you were in the middle of a Grand Prix. That is why he pounced at Nick when he mentioned the exhaustion diagnosis, fed up with the discourse. The distrust he had in your trainer’s statement clear in his words.

Yet another thread to be pulled.

Author's note: Hey, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It's been a while! My masters is clearly kicking my ass and I didn't have a single second to write, but here it is. Thank you all so much for reading, any kind of interaction is greatly appreciated!

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin @kyuupidwrites @raevyng @lazybot @gills-lounge @hiraethrhapsody @jjkclub @darleneslane @therealcap @aespie

#daniel ricciardo x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one x you #f1 imagine

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