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diz-eaze · 1 month ago

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thinking of yandere modern au shenanigans with other genshin characters too <33 teehee

; (characters included; alhaitham, ayato, lumine, furina, emilie, albedo, childe, kinich, chasca, xilonen)

; inspired by the deranged scara chronicles

; I AM SO SORRY. yandere, half serious half silly, dark content,I'm being so fr when I say these are degenerates, they are GOONERS ok, some nsfw content/mention in some parts (marked by a <3), not proofread i wrote this in the middle of class, depraved beings :(, fem reader for the women but otherwise gn, more specific warnings are listed below their names! it got short in the end bc this is just word vomit okay

alhaitham:

(subtle manipulation, stealing papers, mentioned masturbation, cyberbullying (?))

alhaitham gets unreasonably jealous when you seek out other tutors that aren't him. oh, you like the way the organic chemistry teacher explains calculus to you? ok...! I guess you want him to kill himself, then! :))) he tries so hard to win the idgaf war everytime he sees you watching said channel on youtube during your shared study sessions, but he slides down the door in utter agony the moment he enters his dorm. that should have been him !! he deserves to have a slowburn, academic rivals to lovers (excluding the part where he is batshit insane <3) 204k words love story with you where in the end you willingly become his captive in his basement !! and he can't even be normal for once and just approach like a sane being to say, "hey, I can tutor you instead, lol." NO. he obtains an olympic medal from the amount of mental gymnastics he does just to nudge your mind into considering the idea of him tutoring you.

he begins to schedule your study sessions back at his dorm wherein instead of pulling out the lecture slides and listening to the organic chemistry tutor on youtube, you're forced to resort to the medieval method of pulling out a textbook while you're forced to listen to alhaitham drone on because for some mysterious reason, the wifi in his dorm stopped working. you grumble and verbally complain about his probable broke ass forgetting to pay the bills but really, he just cut the wires off just for this moment :/. kaveh's gonna have a meltdown when he comes home to no wifi, too. and all this for what? blockussy (blockmate ussy)? alhaitham, listen to your friends you're being unreasonable right now. alhaitham !!

he's always always ALWAYS partnered up with you in duo works or at the very least, placed in the same groups. he'd always act like it happened because of pure chance but if you take a glimpse at his phone's dms you'd see the death threats he's been sending to his peers and professors alike :/. and it's not even typed in a fed up way with incorrect punctuations nor does it include any slangs - it reads as an email. formal and straight to the point. yeesh.

<3: after every written midterm or final exam, your sheet of paper always go mysteriously missing and you always shrug it off because who gaf about a damned piece of paper that only caused you misery. but alhaitham does. he always collects your exam papers so that he can paste it on the walls of his room, and it'll be the first thing that his eyes settle on the moment he enters. it makes him incredibly proud to see your high marks every single time, he can't help but feel pride in his chest (he thinks he's part of the team 😭😭), especially if it was a subject he tutored you on. but more than anything, he just loves the way intellect looks so good on you. and it would be somewhat sweet if he didn't take your exam papers without your knowledge and if he stopped nutting on them every time he gets worked up :/.

ayato:

(coercion)

ayato traps you into a relationship within less than a month of knowing him 😞💔. your first meeting was probably preconstructed, too. maybe you two stumbled into each other amidst a busy street or reached for the same book in a secluded store - a supposed meet-cute in your eyes but it quickly becomes a horror story because he has your routine and behavioral pattern memorized and noted down in his phone just so he can plan ahead. he manages to coerce you into a date the same day you two met, and you're left wondering if it's his charisma or you've just been intimidated into giving him a chance. either way, you end up having more casual dates in the span of two (2) weeks until one day a friend of yours sends you an article link. your blood runs cold when you see the headline and a familiar picture of a date with him underneath it - what do you mean conglomerate heir??? ayato?? relationship???? in a fit of panic, you end up spamming his dms and he'd have the gall to try and act sad, saying shit like, "oh, wow :(((. that's crazy :(( so sorry this happened to you because of me! might as well commit, right? :<" but secretly giggling twirling his hair and kicking feet from the fruition of his plan. asshole.

loves sharing his boba drink with you to have his indirect kisses. what's yours is his and what's his is yours, or whatever he droned on about. plus, it's a combination of two of his favorite things, after all - boba tea and you <33. he'd just bring the straw near your lips and look at you with his signature close-eyed smile as he gently tells you to try out this new boba tea flavor (a lie, it's always the same flavor) he got. he'd insist and insist, causing you to crumble under the pressure of him as you reluctantly sip from the straw. and he always looks so euphoric after sipping the same straw you just done seconds prior. freaky. his day is genuinely ruined if you don't drink from his boba tea at least once.

ayato detests it when he has to have people keep tabs on you, so he tries to prevent this by just... making you stick to him 24/7 :). it's so, so awkward when he's in a board meeting and you're literally next to him playing fuckass blockblast on your phone, all uninterested in their businesspilled businessmaxxing strategies. you'd rather be anywhere but here, sigh. you often catch middle-aged men eyeing you from the corner of their eyes probably wondering who got your random ass here (they don't know it's ayato kamisato </3).

lumine:

(non-consensual touching, freakazoid lumine, taking advantage of someone under the influence of alcohol, spit)

oh brother, someone get her off the stage !!!! wherever you go, she follows, or whatever that bruno mars song says, but she takes it literally. whenever you're enlisting your college subjects for the term, trust she'll be all up in your messages begging and begging for you to send your schedule so she can match yours to a T. it's practically an unspoken rule in your college that the seat next to you is lumine's seat and the other side has to remain empty or else she'll tweak the fuck out. should the lectures end early, lumine will drag you to spend your free time in the campus cafe or library while waiting for your next class. she literally hounds you like a guard dog to ensure no one will approach you.

<3: lumine always goads you into joining her in sorority parties just for two (2) reasons: to kiss you silly while you're inebriated enough to not remember it the following day and to spit in your alcoholic drink while you're unaware. the night starts off fun despite your initial refusal - beer pong, shot tricks with lumine, playing uno, watching that hu tao girl do a cannonball from the house's roof - it's all so.. amusing. you've just survived your finals. lumine and you deserve this night of enjoying your youth, even more so when she brings out the hard liquor with no chaser provided to soothe the burning sensation of alcohol. so it's no wonder how and why you got so drunk in just a few shots in. it's no wonder, too, when you end up in a secluded bathroom away from the life of the party with someone's tongue being shoved down your throat all while grinding into you - aiming to devour you whole with the hunger of a starving beast. you don't remember much; you never do. but particular honey eyes are starting to become familiar for reasons you don't want to entertain... lumine would never, right? but this happens again and again and again until you're left with no choice but to stop going to parties altogether.

lumine and her big fuckass bug eyes love to stare. that's all she did when she met you the first time during freshman year - stare. Ever since then, she'd shown her more extroverted, loud, silly nature, but sometimes she reverts back to her old habits and just stares at you for hours on end with not a single word uttered. admittedly, it's unnerving at times since the only thing (err, person) she stares at when she gets quiet is you. her eyes trail after your every movement, her gaze lapping up every visible inch of you. you get fed up and jokingly slap her back, and she snaps out of her trance with a sheepish chuckle. how silly of her!

<3: whenever lumine visits your dorm, she'd make sure your roommate is out for the night (if lumine had it her way, she'd be your roommate) and that she conveniently forgot to check the weather because now it's pouring outside and shows no signs of stopping soon. oh, woe is her! she looks so stressed and sad, too - how will she get home at this rate!? and with the kindness in your heart, you step in to offer sharing your bed with her. you don't even get to finish your sentence before she's enthusiastically agreeing with your offer. in the wake of the night, nestled in your cramped bed with no space left between the two of you, lumine patiently waits until you are lulled into the embrace of slumber. when she sees the slow rise and fall of your chest is when she reaches out a tentative hand to grope your breast through the thin fabric of your tank top. you're not wearing any bra. lumine bites her lip to prevent a moan from escaping. this is always her favorite part when she stays the night. she gropes, fondles, and squeezes - lumine just can't enough. she literally never sleeps because she's too busy gooning over you all night.

furina:

( manipulation, s*lf-harm, guilt-tripping, unhealthy relationships, dependency)

when you're in a cringefail losergirl yet still clinically insane competition but your opponent is furina de fontaine, global superstar of teyvat, with 60 million followers across all platforms who also happens to be a massive freak when no one's looking: :(

furina is deranged in a way that's akin to rising tides. you let her get away with miniscule, inconspicuous acts at the beginning until slowly but surely, as the water reaches your knees, you're now actively enabling her toxic tendencies under the guise of not wanting to upset sweet, sweet furina. she attaches quick. a week ago, she'd be subtly overstaying her welcome in your cozy apartment, then the following week, you just open your door to see her with bags packed, fully expecting you to accommodate her out of the blue. it's scary living alone, she'd explain, with stalkers and whatnot. but bitch, what about YOUUUU?? you're literally inviting THEE stalker into your house; wake up !!! if she has stalkers, and you (unknowingly) have a stalker.... then who's driving the bus? 😳😳

furina's admittedly a bad roommate when it comes to chores due to her status and schedule as a celebrity. oftentimes, when it's her schedule to wash the dishes or vacuum the living room, there's an 80% chance it's unfulfilled because of how busy it is. it's various small accumulations of errors until an incident happens that breaks the camel's back. you get fed up, and you two have a massive fight because of it, which ends in you walking out of the apartment, and in a fit of anger, telling her to pack her bags to move out. furina's knees buckle to the floor and just starts spiraling, genuinely. you come back to bloody floors and furina's wrists sliced repeatedly all while crying hysterically with a knife in her hands. your blood runs ice cold, burning the flames of what was once anger as you rush to her aid. 'i'm so, so sorry', you'd whisper out as you rock her back and forth. through garbled words, furina would then tell you, 'it won't happen again, I promise. just don't make me leave you, please.' because it's a fate worse than death in her eyes.

emilie:

(murder, mentioned masturbation, minor implication of s*icide, armpit, smell kink...)

<3: you once slept over at emilie's house and brought over your perfume since she was curious about what brand you use. while you were showering, emilie took the limited time she had to masturbate and, to the best of her abilities, shoved her bodily fluids into your favorite perfume :(( like girl, where's the decorum... you come out of the shower and don't even bat an eye to the unusual subtle flush on her cheeks (oh wow, is that a new blush shade on you, emilie? adorbs!) or how your perfume moved to a completely different location from where you put it. pure of heart, dumb of ass. you're dying first in a horror movie.

on a similar note, emilie eventually convinces you into letting her make your perfumes for you. it starts off in small mentions and passing comments of, 'oh, I can easily replicate this perfume's scent, you know?' or, 'hmm, try this sample I made instead.' until you're dragged into her perfume hole and now you must wear the perfumes she specially concocted herself and avoid brands like the plague OR ELSE you'll find her lodging a pistol up to her mouth because what's the point of living if you don't even like the most intimate form of love she can express - scents and perfumes.

<3: SHE HAS A SMELL KINK OKAY.... 😭😭 hear me out.. or don't, damn... but she loves sniffing every part of your body, it's genuinely her biggest turn on which is why she steals your panties for the sole purpose of huffing them like drugs. this is the chanel coco mademoiselle of her world !! she'll even take the bras and t-shirts you've worn because that means it has your body scent on it, awww! <3 and should she be given the chance, she'd definitely huff at your armpits. :(

emilie has definitely killed for you before, and yes, she did get away with it. with her other profession as a forensic cleaner and her connection with chevreuse in the police force, it's practically like taking candy from a baby - unbearably easy. she would lament the corrupt justice system of her country, butttt it benefits her as of this moment so :/ winners love winning. rip bozo, though!

albedo:

(fantasies, mention of dr*gs, smoking, and alcohol)

his biggest fantasy is you ruining his life. the thought of him, an up-and-coming prodigal STEM college student who's predicted to create research breakthroughs the moment he graduates - for all that potential to be thrown away just because of a singular person is actually his favorite thing. he wants the two of you to be dragged down together to rock bottom until there's no way up. but then you could be a fellow honor student too, so like, how can you even ruin his life? in cases like these wherein you're more of a good influence than bad, the downfall moreso lies in the existence of you rather than the actions that you do. just... being next to you poisons albedo's mind and slowly drives him to do crazy, unhinged things. it could be in a fit of want when he impulsively knocks your head over with an object to trap you inside his cramped one-bedroom apartment or in a moment of rage where he ends up stabbing someone who got too close to you. it's in drastic actions done that takes a while for albedo to realize that he fucked himself and his studies over. and... there's a part of him that wants that. to love you so much he ruins his life in the name of you, is that not romance?

but in the event that you are indeed a perceptively bad influence on him, oh. he takes joy in joining you in activities that knowingly destroy your and your health. smoking cigarettes? teach him how to inhale without coughing it up. drinking alcohol to a concerning degree? be sure to bring some for him next time. skipping classes and neglecting your academics? he can do it for you if you want :)

he loves it. ruining his life is a joint effort between you and him.

childe:

(situationship victim childe, universe where childe isn't that freaky.. woah. i will remedy this with my next post (jk...... i think.))

<3: this man literally never fails to piss you off but the dick is too good so you put up with his trashfire attitude on a daily basis just to get laid :(. he's not even horrible in a 'jock, douchebag' way but more of a 'dog who can't leave you alone' way - he attaches himself to your side like superglue and no matter how hard you try to nudge him off, he. will. not. leave!! it's cute at first, but sometimes you turn your phone off just for an hour to be free from his spam texts. he's literally your toxic, manipulative girlfriend, I fear. you don't respond to his texts in 0.0234304 seconds, and now he can't help but worry if you're having an affair behind his back (delusion final boss). he tags you in his Instagram stories and facebook posts when the dms doesn't work and yes, you do end up responding because being outed in public because of CHILDE out of all people puts you in aura debt.

he's def your childhood friend who literally gatekeeps you from anyone that shows even a smidgen of an interest in you :(. when someone taps his shoulder the moment you're out of sight to ask for your number, childe's giving them his and when they hit 'you' up - they get insta-blocked. should an event happens where they do manage to get your number, childe will be the one to terrorize them in messages to leave you the fuck alone, they're spoken for !! even if they may not have a label on their relationship.... it's still a relationship, nonetheless !!!

childe loves cooking for you, and he genuinely crashes out if you eat takeout or try someone else's cooking. fuck off with the wanmin takeout xingqiu, that's probably poisoned. ugh, go away escoffier with your filet mignon doodoo. no, yoimiya, (y/n) doesn't want your fuckass onigiri because childe already packed them lunch !!!!!!! why is everyone so hellbent on feeding you??? childe is actually so close to bringing a pistol to college. he views them all as the ugly hag queen giving snow white the poisoned apple btw.

tells everyone around him, family and friends alike, that he's your boyfriend, which greatly contradicts your given statement because you tell everyone instead that your relationship with him is, 'just complicated'. ouch. he laughs it off outside, but he's throwing up and seething the moment he's alone. he's playing the long game here, people !! it's okay if he's not your boyfriend because he knows he'll be your husband :))) it's all in the mindset. he'll show them all when he inevitably mails them invitations to his wedding with you in a few years. yup.

kinich:

(masturbation, lowk delusion)

kinich... kinich makes a version of you and him in the sims :(. he saw it on tiktok once, and really liked the idea. and he becomes so ingrained in the sims-world version of you and him who are married, woohoos every 10 seconds, have 10 children together with a lizard named ajaw that when he attends his first class next semester he gets a whiplash at seeing you in the flesh. like, oh! he forgot that you weren't dating him and that everything was just a figment of his fantasies for a second there :)

<3: definitely used his real-life pet lizard ajaw to lure you into visiting his room, thanks ajaw! he infodumps about lizards his way into bed with you and he hits it raw with no condom whatsoever for his first time, too. #nolongervirgin. like woah... they were not familiar with kinich's game at awl.... and you end up coming back the next day because he told you he'd explain his PC specs in detail and where he got his gaming chair from like GET UP 😭😭😭

<3: HE JERKS OFF TO YOUR IN-GAME AVATARS. PUT HIM DOWN. like this isn't funny anymore, kinich is so depraved that when he plays online games with you and sees your character model, he starts masturbating while the two of you grind to defeat the enderdragon or try to escape the roblox obby. what's so sexy about 8bit pixels kinich..... and if he's this horrendous with your avatars then don't imagine how hard he's jerking off when you VC on discord with him. yikes.

chasca:

(panty stealing, mention of period and discharge)

<3: chasca loves stealing your panties whenever she manages to find an excuse to visit your house. what you don't know won't hurt you. and trust me, she loves all types of panties that you've worn, but her favorite has to be the used panties stained with either your vaginal discharge or period blood. she can never be grossed out, not when it came from your body - which is exactly why she'll reverently clean it up using her tongue as she inevitably soaks her own panties from the sheer arousal she's experiencing. listen, emilie steals your panties to sniff them - chasca steals your panties to taste your fluids; they are not twins !!

<3: on the topic of pussy... she loves eating your pussy. do not shoot the messenger. she has a oral fixation and just loves tonguing you for hours on end on the days when college isn't demanding your blood and soul. you always end up overstimulated by the time night comes, and you're just begging her to lay off your pussy and look at the fucking tiktoks you sent her !!

chasca, gatekeeper extraordinaire, always waits for you after lectures as a silent stake of claim to you. no one really bothers chasca because of quiet nature and intimidating stance which then extends to you.

xilonen:

(no warnings this is tame, there's more I want to say but-[REDACTED])

if ifa pet-traps you, then xilonen definitely parent-traps you. she just shows up to one of your scheduled hangouts with nepecha hiding behind her legs, explaining how the little girl came from a house of abuse, and expects you to agree in co-parenting her like???? i mean, yeah, you do give in but but but !!! parenting is a serious commitment, xilonen !! what if your friendship with her falls out which will then force you to stop visiting nepecha due to the awkwardness !! xilonen will look at you straight and then say in an exasperated manner, "then just, don't make it happen? ugh, stop overcomplicating things." and well... yeah, she's right actually :(. so now you're obligated to invest time and energy on your newly appointed daughter, nepecha, alongside xilonen. okay happy family.

<3: xilonen loves your tits and it's serious business for her. she worships them like a newfound religion and she even kneads your boobs like a cat and loves laying in between them when it's time to sleep while tv plays in the background. should you complain about your boobs getting sore from all her abuse and wanting the position to be switched for once, then xilonen will gladly offer hers. like, just ask :/ It's literally not that deep because she's still winning either way.

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diminuel · 10 months ago

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This was kind of my Stinky Child AU concept.

(It was first supposed to be part of the Kuja Empress comics so Croc was supposed to go by "Vanille" in this AU, the transition to Sir Crocodile happening much later. But I changed my mind at the last moment before posting the Ace meeting Luffy comic I guess X'D Who knows if I might change my mind again as this is a Work in Progress and some of you might have good input into it too. But this is where my mind's at now:)

Crocodile makes a sharp distinction between who he is as a pirate and who he thinks he has to be to safely raise Luffy. Nobody can know who he is. I imagine that actually raising Luffy was an unexpected decisions because he simply couldn't let him go so he and Dragon changed plans.

Crocodile tries hard to present in a certain way in Windmill Village, which is why we see him with make up and feminine clothes when he's interacting with Dadan and Makino. When it's just Dragon his clothing is more gender neutral (I guess?? he's definitely not wearing a push up bra, not that boobs in One Piece obey the laws of gravity) and he doesn't wear make up.

He'll gradually stop trying so hard when he learns that the people of Windmill Village don't judge if he doesn't conform to the idea he has about how a woman/ mother should present and they especially keep quiet about the most wanted man living among them. They'll do the same about a Warlord. He'll eventually be "baba" to the kids and not mom.

(Also, I don't know what Iva's involvement is. Since it's a gradual process, Iva might just help along a little bit? I don't know~

Additional note: I don't think Crocodile really struggles with dysphoria in this AU. That doesn't mean he's at ease with the concepts of womanhood and motherhood he attempts to live up to.)

Thoughts, input, objections, tomatoes?

(Edit: alright!! I gave him his fur coat back! *lol* Here's a little comic about why he might not have a coat!)

#One Piece #Sir Crocodile #genderbending #maybe #I don't know how to tag this #One Piece Fanart #Stinky Child AU

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totallyxtaurus · 3 months ago

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Depollute me, gentle angel

Summary: Sylus is away on a business trip while you sink deeper into your depressive episode. Pairing: Sylus x gn reader Genre: Angst (I guess, I'm not sure lol) Trigger Warnings: depression, mental health struggles, anxiety, self-neglect, and hints of suicide A/N: Soo I was going to make a fluffy/smutty story but my PMDD hit me hard af and then BOOM, this. This was super hard yet easy to write at the same time probably because it's a self insert lol like this is literally me. Sylus' "perfect" persona does intimidate me and I grappled with the thoughts of "what if Sylus was real, could he actually handle this?" I hope everyone enjoys and please please please remember to take care of yourselves! 💗

When was the last time you crawled out of bed today? Your stomach twisting, hunger pangs turn into nausea. But the thought of forcing your limbs to carry you into the kitchen for food feels insufferable. So, you stay buried in the tangle of unmade, unwashed sheets. A hint of fabric softener desperately clinging to the fibers, the stale scent of sweat and skin already taking over. Earlier, you pressed your nose into your shoulder, checking. The sweet floral deodorant from days ago (you think) has spoiled into something sour.

Each day and sleepless night blend together. They become hard to tell apart, except when the phone rings. Work is calling again—probably to ask when you’ll be back in or to terminate you. You know you should care—you do care! Well, you used to. You liked your job; you were good at it. But does it bring you joy? Right now, does anything?

Everything feels like a chore that you can’t be bothered to attempt. Showering? The thought alone is exhausting. But thinking about the steps that come before the shower is enough to make you sit in your own filth. You reach up absently. Your fingers get lost in the greasy roots and tangle in the mess below. Dandruff flakes dust your pillow. You picked at your scalp while scrolling for hours. Anything to pull you out of this pit you’ve fallen into, for a moment of relief. Your stomach churns each time your tongue touches the slimy coating that has built up on your teeth. Panic spikes at the thought of cavities—the decay, a reminder of neglect. Yet, there you lie, paralyzed by your own anxieties. God, you want to move. You really do. But then you tell yourself, I’ll brush them after I eat, for sure. You know it’s a lie. But it makes the guilt easier to swallow.

These bouts come and go, pulled in by a force you can’t escape—because you are the force. Like the moon dragging in the tides, summoning waves too strong to withstand. When you’re up, you trick yourself into thinking that you have it all together, like you’ve cracked some secret code. You throw yourself into work, into people, an endless loop on performance mode. Blissfully numb. Until the crash. The tide swells too high, knocking you under and swallowing you whole. Then you’re here, again. Bedridden. Isolated. Time slips through your fingers. Days, weeks—who knows how long. Until someone notices your absence. Usually, him. Then you have to explain why you vanished and begin to collect the pieces of you that have washed back ashore.

“You should trust Sylus more," your therapist had said, voice gentle but firm. “Let him in during these episodes. He wants to help you.”

You nodded, pretending to consider it, not missing the way they emphasized the "want to help you" part. But the idea was absurd, laughable. Let Sylus see you like this? No, it’s better this way. You can keep your dignity and him, a win-win situation.

This episode—as your therapist calls it—came at the perfect time. Sylus is away on a business trip, conveniently absent when you’ve sunk to your lowest. He gives you roughly three days of no contact before the constant calls start rolling in. This time, luck was on your side, a twisted kind of luck, but still one that was to your advantage. You can’t even begin to imagine the horror that he’d feel if he saw you like this.

Undeserving. That’s the only word that comes to mind when you think of Sylus, especially in moments like these.

Sylus, the man who has everything—and if he doesn’t, he simply acquires it. Always composed, always in control. He’s the kind of person who seems to glide through life, untouchable. You can’t imagine him unraveling, not like this. No, if he ever stumbled, he’d just power through it. There are no obstacles he can’t overcome.

Until you.

You are the only thing he can’t fix. A threat to the pristine world he’s built. Thankfully, he hasn’t seen you like this, and he never will. He can’t.

Your therapist says your way of thinking is the problem. You don’t let him in. You don’t give him a chance to understand. Your therapist doesn’t know Sylus like you do. What if he does understand—but secretly believes you’re too much? And knowing Sylus, what if he doesn’t leave, but worse—stays out of obligation? Out of pity?

Your chest begins to tighten at the thought, your heartbeat picking up. You’d rather disappear completely than let him see you like this.

But before you can spiral any further, the doorbell rings.

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calocreek · 9 months ago

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OK here it is, a ton of 'production' stuff for the Hot Guy Comic Zine! I've never been part of a project like this. Even though I was working on my comic mostly solo (shout-out to my editor Violet!), the world-building and story arc planning was completely collaborative. For example:

We started out on the world-building by voting on character's superpowers! Plenty of powers were almost unanimously agreed on, but Cuteguy was a HUGE campaign. We were pretty much 50/50 split between can fly/can't fly. Propaganda was exchanged LOL, like this piece where I campaigned for limited flying capabilities 😂 And thats what we ended up settling on!

From there we worked on a ton of brainstorming/world-building that I mostly spectated with an occasional doodle like these haha. I'm new to such elaborate AUs!

Pitch time!! I had pitches for each era and they were all pretty light and banter-y, so my year 1 pitch ended up fitting the vibe the best. My original pitch was 'HG + CG learn some key things about each other and plan to set up a base they can use together.' But when I started my script, I got really caught up in how they were navigating a partnership without knowing each others identities. The more I wrote through that, the more I wanted my story to be ABOUT that! So thats where my script started coming together.

Designs! I'm definitely not a confident costume designer. I was trying to go for low-tech + practical since it was early in their careers, and of course, easy to draw 😂

Process went more or less like this! Full color comics take a LONG TIME but it was a total labor of love. I had the graffiti bgs in mind from the very start since I knew it was dialogue heavy, I wanted to make sure the art was interesting and worth spending time looking at. Oh lord did I get carried away. I'm OBSESSED with the symbolism the fandom has put to the life series and so I tried to sneak in as much meaningful symbolism as possible. AND THE RESULT:

Guess I did pretty well! 😂😂😂

Anyway, I can't overstate how proud I feel to have gotten to work on this project. My whole goal as a hobbyist is to get to work with other artists I look up to and respect so this was a dream come true! Thank you everyone for reading, for 15k downloads (!!!), and for just being an awesomely creative fandom space to make art in! I hope to do more stuff like this again some day 💕

#hgcz #hotguy comics zine #hotguy au #gtws #grian #hermitcraft #hgcz spoilers #wip #calocraft #fanart

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pbaz7 · 3 months ago

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FLIGHT 2136: PART 9

paige x azzi

word count: 7.3k

A/N: I don’t even know. I’m real iffy about this (i hate it) but a lot of people wanted it so here we are lol. This is honestly a random ass chapter and it’s a little all over the place. There’s at least a common theme throughout the chapter which is good I guess! Let me know what you think :)

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Paige has been chronically offline since the accident. Of course she still scrolls on her accounts but her social media presence was almost nonexistent—just a collection of sponsored ads and the occasional basketball dump that, knowingly to fans, was usually Azzi’s doing these days. If it weren’t for her teammates tagging her in posts, some people joked they’d forget she even had social media.

Because Paige was so inactive online, fans paid extra attention to her whenever she did show up. Every glimpse of her—whether it was a blurry background appearance in someone’s TikTok or a split-second cameo in an Instagram story—became something to dissect. It wasn’t just about what she was doing, but who she was always with.

Azzi wasn’t much better when it came to social media. She posted more than Paige, but that wasn’t saying much. Her feed was mostly basketball, occasional glimpses into her workouts, and sometimes a rare photo dump. But what fans noticed most was that, when she did post anything remotely fun or glimpses of her life, Paige was often in the videos.

It started subtly—Azzi posting TikTok trends with the team, Paige reluctantly included but always standing closest to Azzi. Then, she’d randomly post duets of them. Ones where Paige didn’t even try to hide her smile when Azzi pulled her into frame, or where she’d roll her eyes but still play along, because it was Azzi. Fans ate it up, stitching their videos with captions like Azzi is the only one who can make Paige do anything.

Then there were the off-the-court moments. Paige and Azzi getting caught whispering on the bench regardless of who was sitting in between them. The way Azzi’s hand would linger on Paige’s arm after huddles, or how Paige always seemed to turn to Azzi first when she was talking.

None of it was concrete. But to fans who had been paying attention, it was enough to start putting the pieces together.

The suspicion grew more on a random night after a game. KK, Aubrey, and Ice were piled in one of the team suites, Ice’s phone was propped up on live. They weren’t talking about anything in specific—just answering questions, talking about the game, and laughing about something they were trying to explain they saw from the bench.

In the background, Paige was in her own world, sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone like she didn’t even know the live was happening. Which wasn’t unusual. Paige was rarely the one front and center in these kinds of things, and the fans knew it.

But that didn’t stop them from trying.

The comments flooding in.

Pls get Paige in the camera!

Can Paige come say hi???

Ice glanced over her shoulder. “Yo, they’re asking for you,” she told Paige, shifting the camera slightly to show the fans her reaction.

Paige didn’t even look up from her phone. She just shook her head, laughing. “Nah, I’m good.”

The comments started flying in:

SHE LAUGHED OMG

She always does this 😭

Why is Paige allergic to cameras but will be in every single Azzi TikTok?

KK snickered, reading the comments in her head but not saying anything out loud. She, Ice, and Aubrey went back to talking about what happened on the bench during the game, reenacting the moment that had them in tears. The chat kept moving at full speed, fans still begging for Paige to come into frame, but the three ignored it, too caught up in their conversation.

After about 15 minutes the door to the suite opened, and Azzi walked in with Jana.

When they stepped in, Ice perked up. “Look who it is!” she said, grinning.

“Come say hi to the live real quick,” KK said, motioning for them to get in frame.

Jana, always down, strolled right over and leaned into the camera. “What are y’all doing?” she said, reading some of the comments as they flooded in.

Azzi, on the other hand, didn’t fully step in. She just popped her head into frame, flashing a quick smile. “Hey, guys,” she said casually before popping back out.

With the addition of Jana, the energy in the room picked up again. Ice, KK, and Aubrey focused on interacting with fans. The chat was flying, a mix of people laughing along and still—relentlessly—begging for Paige to get in the camera.

KK was the first to notice. She shook her head and nudged Aubrey, who glanced at what KK was pointing at and laughing. Jana and Ice caught on next, and within a few seconds, the four of them silently reached an agreement.

They all turned toward Paige simultaneously, eyes wide, lips jutted out in exaggerated pouts.

Paige, still lounging on the couch, didn’t even have to look up to know something was off. They had gotten way too quiet. With a small sigh, she lifted her head—only to be met with four identical, pleading expressions staring directly at her.

She blinked. “That looks like a scene from a horror movie.”

KK snorted, but no one broke character.

Paige let out a long sigh before pushing herself off the couch. “Alright, alright, chill,” she mumbled, as she walked toward them.

The live chat exploded:

NO WAY SHE ACTUALLY GOT UP THE POWER THEY HAVE

We finally won 😭

She stepped into the frame and forced a tight smile. “Hello,” she said simply.

She looks like she’s being held hostage 💀

Someone check if she blinked twice

Paige glanced down at the screen, reading through a few of them which were definitely inappropriate and shook her head. “Y’all are crazy,” she mumbled.

Then, her attention shifted slightly—just past the camera.

Her lips curled into a small grin, subtle at first, but it grew when her ears tinged a faint shade of red. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked. Her voice was softer, more familiar, like she had completely forgotten they were on live.

The chat instantly reacted.

WHO IS SHE TALKING TO??

Wait, what’s happening?

Y’all saw that shift in energy?? HELLO???

Just then, another voice mumbled something from behind the camera. "You look cute when you’re all shy like that."

Paige’s smile deepened as she shook her head, a small huff escaping her lips. “Did I say I was shy?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow.

WHO JUST SAID THAT??

Was that Azzi???

NAH WHOEVER THAT IS HAS HER FLUSTERED

Paige is actually blushing. I’m sick, it's not me.

Azzi’s voice came again, a little clearer this time, but still low enough that it wasn’t obvious who was speaking. "You don’t have to say it. I can see it."

Paige bit her lip, eyes flickering downward for a second before shaking her head again. “Mhm,” she hummed, her amusement clear. “That’s crazy.”

Now the fans were in full meltdown mode, scrambling to piece it together.

HELLO???

WHAT IS HAPPENING.

WHO IS SHE TALKING TO??

KK glanced down at the comments, but she hadn’t been following the chaos leading up to them. All she saw was "Who’s behind the camera?"

“Oh,” she said, reaching for the phone. “It’s just Azzi Fudd Fudd.”

She turned the camera toward Azzi, who barely had time to blink before being on the live. Azzi gave a small smile, waving before KK propped the phone back in its original spot.

OH. MY. GOD.

IT WAS AZZI LMAOOO

THE WAY SHE WAS JUST STANDING THERE?? HELLO??

Paige, babe, be so real with us right now. Like be fr.

Paige, for her part, had already retreated back to the couch, stretching out with an arm over the backrest.

Eventually, Azzi wandered over, standing in front of Paige, who tilted her head up to look at her. The fans couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t matter because Paige had that goofy grin on her face—the one she only ever gave Azzi.

Paige picked up her phone, holding it out in front of her as she showed something to Azzi. Azzi took it, leaning down just a little closer, her eyebrows furrowing as she examined the screen. The fans could see her jaw drop in mock disbelief.

“Absolutely not,” Azzi said, shaking her head with a playful, incredulous tone.

Paige looked shocked. “Wait, what?” she asked, but before Azzi responded, she was turning to walk off frame, clearly trying to hide a grin.

Paige jumped up from the couch to follow her. The camera caught her moving quickly, her hand still holding her phone as she trailed behind Azzi, just as the two disappeared off-camera.

A moment later, a playful squeal is heard, followed by Azzi’s laughter. “Paige, stop!” she yells through her laugh.

There’s a bit of shuffling—movement that suggests a playful struggle—before Paige’s voice comes through. “You act like you don’t like it.”

After that there was a soft thud, like someone bumping into furniture, then the distant click of a door shutting.

KK glances toward the door before turning back to the screen, eyebrows raised.

As time passed and Paige and Azzi still hadn’t returned, the live became chaotic, with Ice and KK taking over, entertaining fans the best way they knew how—by arguing.

“Bro, you literally just said the opposite like five minutes ago,” Ice argued, pointing at KK.

“Girl boo. No, I didn’t,” KK shot back.

“Oh my God bro yes you did,” Ice insisted, shaking her head. “Somebody roll the tape.”

Then, someone finally asked:

Where did Paige and Azzi go???

KK glanced at the chat. “Prolly with they boyfriends.”

Ice turned her head, eyes widening before she let out a snicker, barely holding back her laugh.

GIRL BE SO FR RIGHT NOW.

WITH WHO???? NAME NAMES.

ICE LAUGHING CAUSE SHE KNOWS.

Paige and Azzi somewhere laughing at us rn.

KK YOU’RE NOT FUNNY (yes you are but still).

After that live, it seemed like the fans were watching their every move. It wasn’t like Paige and Azzi were hiding anything—it was more that they weren’t about to make any official announcements, nor were they ever planning on doing anything overt in front of the cameras.

Still, the speculation never stopped. Fans were divided—some adamantly claimed the two of them weren’t even gay, others argued they were just best friends, while a small group swore up and down that something was definitely happening between them. Despite all the chatter, Paige and Azzi never commented on it. And that, in itself, said enough.

There were no denials, no confirmations, just the two of them continuing on with their lives, the bond between them only becoming more obvious with time. It was clear to anyone who paid close enough attention that Paige and Azzi were something more than just teammates, more than just friends. But until they decided otherwise, everyone would have to keep guessing.

…

The podcast started, and the two of them were settled in front of the mics, the cameras already rolling. Paige looked a little stiff at first, clearly still not quite used to the whole “podcast” thing, while Azzi was a little more relaxed.

The Overtime WBB manager gave them a thumbs up, signaling for them to just start talking, telling them they’d chime in if they needed anything..

Azzi leaned into the mic first. "Hi, I’m Azzi Fudd."

Paige raised a hand, half-waving at the camera. "Paige Bueckers."

Azzi flashed a grin. "Um so, we’re partnering with Overtime WBB for a few podcast episodes, and honestly, it’s just gonna be a yap session. Nothing too serious. Just us talking and they’re going to clip whichever parts they like."

Paige chuckled at that. "Yap session? That’s one way to put it."

Azzi turned to her with her grin still in place. "Basically what it is. And yes, you have to participate."

Paige huffed as she leaned back in her chair. "I don’t know why I got picked for this.”

"You know exactly why you got picked for this."

Paige just shakes her head, picking up some of the cards they had in front of her, flipping through them absentmindedly. She wasn’t quite sure where to start.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, glancing at the cards in Paige’s hands. "So, how do you wanna do this?"

Paige looked up, smiling softly. "You can start."

Azzi leaned forward, giving Paige a look. "Just so you know I’m not running this whole thing. I’ll let you sit there being mysterious for a little bit though."

Paige laughed. "I’m not tryna be mysterious. I’m just… tryna figure out how to talk into a mic without sounding awkward."

Azzi laughed softly. "Just act like we're on the phone or FaceTime or something."

Paige gave her a look—one silently saying, you definitely don’t want us doing that.

Azzi caught the look and rolled her eyes slightly, laughing again. "Okay, maybe let’s not do that."

Paige nodded with a grin on her face. "Exactly."

Azzi shook her head, picking up the cards in front of her. She scanned through a few trying to find one that she knew would relax Paige a little bit. After a second she turned back to Paige with a grin. “Who's the best shooter on the team?"

Paige snorted. "Me."

Azzi raised an eyebrow "So, we're starting off the first episode with lying, huh?"

"Azzi, I’m a better shooter than you."

"Really? Do we wanna tell everybody what happened yesterday after practice?"

Paige sat up in her chair as she squinted her eyes at Azzi. "You mean when you cheated and threw your ball in the air on my last shot?"

Azzi grinned. "You still missed. Meaning you lost."

Paige shook her head. "You cheated.

Azzi’s grin only grew as she shrugged nonchalantly. "You're just a sore loser."

Paige shot her a glare. "I’m a sore loser? You still can't admit I beat you in a one-on-one."

"Because you didn’t win."

Paige threw her hands up. "Bro, I was up 18-17!"

Azzi’s grin only grew when she saw Paige getting riled up. "Exactly. It was win by two. So, no, you didn’t win."

Paige let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head. "Whatever."

Azzi laughed, leaning back in her chair. "I’ll let you be delusional today but we both know what's good."

Paige smirked a little at this but didn't say anything back. Just raised her eyebrows at Azzi before she looked down at her cards. After a moment, she picked one out and glanced up at Azzi.

"Would you rather be stuck in a room with me or Coach for 24 hours?"

Azzi snorted, her face lighting up with amusement. She pretended to think for a moment, tapping her chin dramatically before glancing at Paige with a grin. "I don’t know man...that’s a tough one...you’d get a little annoying after like hour ten."

Paige dropped her jaw in disbelief, looking at Azzi like she’d just been betrayed. "Wowww."

Azzi's eyes sparkled as she looked back at Paige. "Still…I’d rather be stuck in a room with you, Paige."

The way she said it and the way she looked at Paige as she tilted her head slightly, made the words hang in the air for a moment. There was a beat of silence, the slight tension between them clear to everyone in the room. Paige held Azzi’s gaze, and for just a second, neither of them said anything—too caught up in the weight of the moment.

Paige’s smile faded slightly, her heartbeat a little louder in her ears. Azzi blinked, breaking the spell, and leaned back casually in her chair, her grin returning like nothing had happened.

Azzi flipped to the next card, reading it over before glancing at Paige with a curious expression. “Who's the hardest player to guard in college basketball?”

Paige barely hesitated before answering, her voice smooth in the mic. “You.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard for a split second before a slow smirk spread across her face. “Oh?” she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Go on.”

Paige rolled her eyes at Azzi’s reaction but continued. “You’re shifty, your release time is basically nonexistent, you can get to the rim, and you never stop moving. It’s annoying.”

Azzi grinned, clearly pleased. “Annoying, huh?”

Paige nodded. “Very.”

“So what I’m hearing is, I give you problems.”

Paige scoffed, shaking her head. “Alright I never said allat.”

Azzi turned to the camera, her smile still present. “You hear that, everybody? Paige Bueckers just admitted that I’m the toughest player she’s had to guard. Basically said she can’t guard me.”

Paige groaned, rubbing her temples. “See, this is why I don’t say nice things. Your head gets bigger than it already is.”

Azzi laughed, clearly enjoying every second of Paige’s frustration, before turning back to the camera. "I swear she’s a lot nicer to me when she isn’t in front of a camera."

Paige scoffed, tilting her head slightly. "That’s funny, ’cause I was just thinking the same thing about you."

Azzi smirked. "Oh yeah?"

Paige nodded, her eyes locked on Azzi. "Mhm. You act all innocent in front of people, but when it’s just us? Whole different person."

Azzi raised an eyebrow. "What kinda different we talkin'?"

Paige leaned forward, a smile forming on her face. "The kinda different when you’re all over me."

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. "You’re wild for saying that on camera."

Paige shrugged, her smile growing. "What? It’s not like I’m lying."

Azzi tilted her head, pretending to consider if she was going to play into this with Paige. "You’re the one who gets all soft when we’re alone. Acting like you don’t melt the second I touch you."

Paige let out a soft laugh. "I don’t melt."

Azzi smirked. "You do."

Paige and Azzi exchanged a look before breaking into quiet laughter, clearly amused by how quickly their conversation had derailed.

"Now look who's flirting on camera," Paige teased.

Azzi shook her head, feigning innocence. "They can cut it out."

Both of them instinctively glanced to the side where the Overtime WBB crew stood, watching. One of the staff members, who had been jotting down notes, simply nodded. "Say no more," she mumbled, scribbling something down—probably making a note to edit out that part.

The staff member finished jotting down notes and looked up at them. "Alright, we’re going to do a speed round of questions to see how well you two know each other which should give us enough to wrap it up for today."

Paige and Azzi both nodded, settling in. Paige glanced at the paper, huffing out a laugh when she saw the question. "What’s my go-to order?"

Azzi snorted. "Chicken tenders and fries."

Paige grinned, satisfied with the answer, but Azzi wasn’t done as she adds, "She eats like a toddler."

Paige gasped. "No, I don’t! They’ve just never failed me. Gotta stick with ole-reliable when I go to new places."

Azzi shook her head, laughing, before reading the next question. "What’s my pregame ritual?"

"You always have to poop right before the game."

"This is true."

Paige continued easily, describing Azzi’s pregame routine as if she had been Azzi’s teammate for years. "But other than that, we both listen to the playlist I made, you tie your shoes a certain way, right first then left, and then you stretch longer than everybody else so you can pretend like—"

Azzi cut her off, eyes widening. "Alright, alright, let’s not spill all my secrets!"

Paige chuckled saying, “What you got opps?”

Azzi mumbles out, “Probably.”

Paige just laughed, shaking her head. She glanced down at her paper again. "What’s one of my pet peeves?"

Azzi didn’t hesitate. "When people chew too loud."

Paige pointed at her. "Facts."

Azzi looked slightly toward the camera before turning back to Paige. "Any time somebody chews loudly, she physically looks like she’s in pain. She’s too nice to say anything, though."

Paige rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, she moved on. "Alright, what’s something I always say on the court?"

Azzi laughed instantly. "‘That’s off’—you used to only do it when you shot and knew it was about to miss but you’ve started doing it when I shoot now too."

Paige laughed. "Cause you gotta rebound more so I’m tryna help you out."

"Yeah whatever."

Paige gestured for Azzi to go next.

Azzi glanced down at the paper in front of her, skimming a few of them before asking, "What’s my guilty pleasure TV show?"

Paige leaned back in her chair confidently. "Any Bachelor or Love Island spinoff. You swear you don’t care, but then you get way too invested every time."

Azzi playfully rolled her eyes but grinned. "Okay, fair."

Paige wasn’t done. "Then you force me to watch it with you every night and start asking questions like, ‘Why did he pick her over the other girl?’"

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. "Alright you’re just adding all the extra details to these questions. "

Paige gave her Azzi smile and shrugged. "That’s the game, right?"

Azzi exhaled, looking down to hide her blush before picking her next question. "What’s something random I love?"

Paige didn’t even blink. "The smell of fresh laundry. You always say it’s one of the best smells in the world."

Azzi raised an impressed eyebrow. "I’m surprised you got that one so quick."

Paige shrugged like it was obvious. "That’s because every time you do laundry, you take a deep breath and say, ‘That’s elite’ before you make me fold em."

Azzi covered her face laughing. "Okay, stop exposing me!"

Paige just grinned before asking the next question. "What’s something that instantly annoys me?"

Azzi hummed. "When people take too long to tell a story."

Paige pointed at her again. "Oh my god bro! If you have a five-minute story, please don’t take twenty minutes to tell it."

Azzi shook her head, smiling. "She gets so impatient when people don’t get to the point. I can literally see it on her face. Then she starts fidgeting around like a child."

Paige let out a dramatic sigh. "Because why are you dragging it? Just get to the point!"

Azzi laughed, nodding before glancing at her next question. "What’s one of my biggest fears?"

Paige’s smirk faded slightly as she answered the question softly. "Not reaching your full potential."

Azzi blinked, the playful air between them shifting just for a moment. Paige held her gaze, the answer coming too naturally—reflecting the long conversations and late nights the two of them shared talking about things like that.

Azzi nodded slowly. "Yeah," she said softly before clearing her throat and forcing a smirk. "That and spiders."

Paige let the moment pass and grinned. "Yeah, those too. You basically crawled up my back when there was a spider in my bathroom once"

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. "Alright, next question."

Paige smirked. It was clear she was enjoying herself. "What’s something I do when I’m overthinking?"

Azzi exhaled, already knowing the answer. "You play with your ring on your finger and if you’re trying to not be too obvious because I’m around you bite the inside of your cheek."

Paige stared at her for a moment before grinning because of course Azzi had picked up on the second one "Okay, stalker."

"I just pay attention to you."

Paige didn’t say anything for a second, just held her gaze with that small smirk of hers.

After a beat of silence—just the two of them smiling at each other—the staff member cleared her throat. "Alright guys thank you. I think that’s good for today."

Azzi turned toward them, flashing a polite smile. "Sounds good, thank you."

Paige, however, was still looking at her, that smirk lingering like she knew something Azzi didn’t.

Azzi stood up, stretching her arms above her head before mumbling under her breath, "Stop staring at me creep."

Paige leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms—eyes never leaving Azzi. "Not my fault you’re in my line of sight."

Azzi rolled her eyes but glanced over her shoulder, seeing which staff members were still lingering around. After a second, she seemed satisfied with what she saw and then turned her attention back to Paige.

She moved closer, standing between Paige’s legs, her presence drawing Paige's gaze upward. The smirk on Paige’s face never faltered.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, a glint in her eyes as she reached out to take Paige’s hand, fingers casually playing with hers. "What?" she asked.

Paige tugged gently at Azzi’s hand, pulling her down into her lap. "I like your hair like that," she said softly, her fingers playing with the ends of Azzi's curls as she settled her more comfortably.

Paige glanced up at Azzi, smiling up at her softly. "This okay pretty?"

Azzi looked around again, checking the room before her gaze returned to Paige. She nodded, her voice quiet. "Yeah," she replied, settling into Paige's lap.

As soon as she got confirmation Paige pulled Azzi into a kiss by her jaw. Azzi’s hand instinctively found its way to Paige's cheek, her fingers tracing her face as she kissed back, both of them losing themselves in the moment for a while.

When they broke apart, Azzi whispered softly, her breath still warm against Paige’s lips, "You did well. I’m proud of you baby."

Paige chuckled, her smirk returning as she leaned back slightly. "Thank you."

Azzi raised an eyebrow at Paige’s demeanor, her tone teasing as she asked, "Did you like it?"

Paige, still with that same smirk, shook her head playfully. "Nope."

Azzi laughed, her fingers gently running through Paige's hair as she leaned in again, clearly enjoying the playful tension between them. "You're cute," she mumbled affectionately, her lips brushing Paige's temple.

Azzi’s fingers gently continued to play with Paige’s hair, a soft rhythm as they both relaxed into the moment. Paige let her head fall back against the chair completely, closing her eyes, letting the peace of the moment wash over her. The warmth of Azzi’s presence beside her always felt grounding.

Azzi, always attuned to Paige’s needs, let her take the brief moment of quiet. She shifted slightly, resting her head against Paige's shoulder, her hand still lightly grazing Paige’s hair as she hummed softly when she smelt Paige’s cologne, content to simply be there.

But the stillness didn’t last for long. A soft voice broke the moment. "Hey, sorry to bother you guys."

Azzi blinked, her eyes opening to see a staff member standing nearby. She straightened up, offering a polite smile, though there was still a relaxed air about her. "No problem," Azzi said.

The staff member looked at both of them. "Just wanted to check in to see if there's anything else from the podcast you want to be taken out, besides that one portion we already talked about?"

Paige opened her eyes, glancing over at Azzi showing she fully expected her to answer it for them.

"I think we're good," Azzi said, giving Paige a quick look to silently confirm. "Just that one part...everything else should be fine."

Paige simply nodded in agreement before closing her eyes again.

The staff member made a quick note on her clipboard. "Alright, cool. Just wanted to check in before we wrap up. You can just message us if anything else comes up."

As the staff member walked off, Azzi shifted back into a more relaxed position, her fingers resuming their movements through Paige’s hair. She mumbled, "Kinda crazy how we spent our off day working."

Paige mumbled in response—her eyes still shut. "Tell me about it."

Azzi huffed out a soft laugh, amused by Paige’s tired tone. She leaned in and kissed Paige’s neck gently, the brief contact making Paige grin.

Pulling away just enough, Azzi sat up, looking down at Paige with a small smile. "Let’s get you back to the room before you pass out sleepyhead," she said softly as she helped Paige sit up.

Paige stretched slowly, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she finally met Azzi’s eyes, still smiling. "I’m not sleepy… just...happy I don’t have to talk."

Azzi grinned, raising an eyebrow. "Whatever you say," she replied. Her eyes softened when she noticed the way Paige’s eyes were starting to droop. "You’re gonna pass out the second we get back to the room, aren’t you?"

Paige didn’t answer right away, but the lazy smile on her face and the way she leaned slightly on Azzi as they began to walk was enough of an answer. Azzi shook her head in amusement, offering her a gentle nudge as she led the way toward the door. "I knew it," she mumbled with a grin.

Once small clips of the podcast were released, the attention on Paige and Azzi only grew. The fans were watching more closely if possible, dissecting every interaction, every glance, every touch.

The two of them didn’t mind. Paige who was still reacclimating to the overwhelming attention, was more reserved around fans in general. But one thing she never did was change how she acted with Azzi. Whether cameras were on them or not, Azzi remained within reach—adjusting Paige’s hoodie strings, fixing her chain, brushing something off her sleeve. Small gestures that didn’t go unnoticed because there was no one else on the team doing them.

It was ironic, really. Fans remembered Paige playfully yelling at Ice during a livestream, claiming she hated being touched after Ice bear hugged her. Yet, with Azzi, she never seemed to mind.

Some of the more in-tune fans noticed subtle shifts in their demeanor when they were in public versus when they were on lives or behind the scenes. Paige was usually the protective one—shooting glares at the team when they bothered Azzi, draping an arm around her when she was pouring about something. But when they were at games or events, surrounded by fans, the roles seemed to reverse. Azzi subtly became the protective one.

She was the one gently guiding Paige away from crowded situations, standing just slightly in front of her when fans ran over to them too quickly, placing a hand on her lower back when the attention became too much. People other than just fans were starting to notice.

"Have y’all realized that Paige acts all big and bad with the team but the second they’re in public, Azzi’s the one protecting her???"

"No, let's talk about it bc Azzi is always making sure Paige is comfortable in crowded spaces and I think I’m gonna cry."

…

The event was supposed to be simple—meet fans, take pictures, sign a few autographs. And if this had been two years ago, it probably would have been much calmer. But things had changed.

With the rise in popularity, the number of fans crowding the venue had grown, completely filling the space with excited chatter and eager energy. People called out players' names, some holding jerseys and posters, others just wanting a quick interaction. Paige, despite being a transfer, had been welcomed with open arms. And if there was any doubt before the event, it was clear now—these fans completely adored her.

Azzi was caught up in conversation, taking pictures, signing things, flashing smiles when she needed to, but every so often, her eyes drifted toward Paige.

At first, it was just out of habit—glancing over to check in, to get a quick glimpse of her girlfriend.

But then, the crowd around Paige continued to grow.

Azzi’s stomach tensed as she watched more people press in, everyone trying to get a moment of her attention. At first, Paige didn’t seem to mind. She was still smiling, still quietly answering questions.

But Azzi knew better.

She remembered one night, months ago, when Paige had admitted, almost offhandedly, “Since the accident I get really claustrophobic sometimes. Not all the time, but when too many people are around me, and I can’t move the way I want or go where I want, it just…gets to me I guess.”

Azzi hadn’t forgotten.

Which was why she kept glancing over now, watching the way Paige’s shoulders stiffened just slightly, the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes anymore. The way she was playing with the ring on her finger was always a clear sign of discomfort.

Azzi didn’t hesitate to make her way towards her after that. She didn’t rush, didn’t make it obvious—just started subtly making her way toward the crowd, offering a few more smiles, taking a couple more pictures along the way.

Azzi was nearly there when she saw Paige tensing as a fan wrapped an arm around her waist for a picture. It might have looked normal to anyone else, just a casual pose for the picture but the fan's arm was pressed securely around Paige’s torso, right where her scar was.

Paige didn’t say anything. She just offered a tight smile, her fingers still idly twisting the ring on her finger relentlessly.

Sliding smoothly into the group, Azzi greeted the fans with her usual warmth, her voice light. “Hey guys, how’s it going?”

The distraction was enough. The fan instinctively loosened her hold as she turned toward her, and in that split second, Azzi slid in. “Mind if I hop in for one?” she asked, flashing her grin. Before the fan could fully process it, Azzi gently moved their arm away from Paige, positioning herself in the middle instead. The way she did it was subtle—done so effortlessly that no one would think twice about it.

The picture was taken, and Azzi smiled at the fan before signing something for her.

After that she turned toward the group smiling as she said, “Sorry, guys, I need to steal her for a second,” already reaching for Paige’s hand to tug her away from the group.

Azzi guided Paige toward the exit, her hand resting lightly on Paige’s back as they weaved through the maze of people. As they neared the door, Azzi caught CD’s questioning look from nearby. With a simple glance, CD silently asked where they were going.

Azzi mouthed, Just taking a quick break.

CD gave a small nod of approval, trusting them both, before turning back to the chaos of the event.

Azzi led Paige toward the team's coach bus, still parked out front. The cool air was a welcome contrast to the heat of the packed venue, and the moment they stepped onto the empty bus, Paige exhaled deeply. They slid into a random seat, and as soon as she was sitting, Paige dragged her hands down her face, finally letting herself breathe.

Azzi didn’t say anything at first. She knew Paige needed a moment to gather herself. Instead, she just sat beside her, letting the quietness settle between them.

But when she noticed Paige starting to zone out, her eyes becoming unfocused, her fingers idly twisting the ring on her hand again, Azzi reached over and gently took her hand.

“What’s going on in that pretty head?” she asked her softly.

Paige let out a quiet breath, giving Azzi a small, appreciative smile before shaking her head. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she admitted, “I don’t know if I can do this, Az.”

Azzi’s brows knitted together as she turned toward Paige. “What do you mean?”

Paige let out a slow exhale, her fingers still playing with the ring on her finger. "I don’t know how to do this whole public figure thing anymore," she admitted, her voice quiet. "Before the accident, it was easier. Even though it was hectic, I could handle it—I loved it. But now… everything’s just harder. Social media, interactions, all of it."

Azzi frowned slightly, wanting to ease her worries. "You don’t need to be a public figure to be a basketball player P."

Paige simply gave her a look—one that silently told Azzi they both knew that wasn’t true.

Paige took a deep breath before continuing, her tone filled with frustration. "How am I supposed to be a face of a league team when I can’t even handle a crowd at a damn bowling alley?"

Azzi sighed softly before adjusting, hooking her arm through Paige’s and leaning her head against her shoulder. She reached down, replacing Paige’s hand with her own as she began absentmindedly playing with the ring on Paige’s finger, both of them staring ahead in silence for a moment.

Then, after gathering her thoughts, Azzi finally spoke. "You’re going to be perfectly fine, baby."

She paused, knowing she needed to explain why in a way that made sense to Paige. After a brief moment, she continued, her head still resting against Paige’s shoulder. "You’re so easy for people to love, to root for, to gravitate to."

Azzi lifted her head slightly, glancing at Paige before leaning down and continuing. "The moment you announced you were transferring to UConn, your name was everywhere. Every sports outlet, every social media page—everyone was talking about the return of Paige Bueckers." She paused, her fingers still gently twisting the ring. "You didn’t even have a social media presence and brands still threw the craziest deals at you."

Paige listened quietly, her chest rising and falling steadily as she took in Azzi’s words.

"You went from not being mentioned on draft boards to jumping into the first round after what…four games?" Azzi tilted her head slightly before laughing at herself. "I started rambling and kinda lost my train of thought."

Paige chuckled softly, the sound warm as she kissed Azzi’s head before leaning her own against Azzi’s.

Azzi smiled before letting out a quiet breath. "I guess my point was, I’m saying all of this to remind you that despite everything you went through, despite how much it still weighs on you. How much you still want to work on…you’re a light for everyone else. You’re a genuine person, you have the sweetest soul of anyone I’ve ever met. You’re talented, honest, and just…” Azzi pauses to gather her thoughts, silently thanking the universe for giving her someone like Paige. She continues saying, “You’re just an amazing human baby. And people don’t see that a lot in public figures these days."

Paige closed her eyes for a moment, letting the words settle.

"You could never post on social media again, you could hire a social media manager to handle everything, and people would still love you," Azzi continued. "They love you even when you don’t interact with them. Just being in the same room as you is enough for some of them. Just getting a glimpse of you—I don’t know if I’m cut out to make the decisions but if I was a GM that sounds like a damn great person to build my team around.”

Paige swallowed, her fingers curling around Azzi’s. She didn’t say anything right away, but the tension in her shoulders slowly began to ease.

Azzi squeezed Paige’s hand gently, grounding her before she continued. "No, you might not be the same Paige from high school—the one who filmed TikToks with kids after games and didn’t mind when hundreds of people waited for her and warmed her." She glanced up, making sure Paige was listening. "But this version of you? This perfect version of you that I love more than anything in this world. You still find time to make people’s day, even when you don’t realize it."

Paige exhaled softly, her body relaxing against Azzi.

"It’s gonna take time to get used to it again," Azzi admitted. "And that’s perfectly fine. Until then, just doing it in small bursts is enough." She played with the ring on Paige’s finger again. "And just so we’re clear—you are not obligated to give your time to anyone."

Paige let out a quiet huff of laughter, shaking her head slightly.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a smile forming. "What?"

Paige turned to her, her blue eyes soft and filled with something Azzi recognized instantly. "I just love you," she whispered. "And I’m so thankful that God brought you into my life."

While Paige was saying this, Azzi's brown eyes were locked onto Paige’s blue ones the entire time. Her heart swelled, a slow smile forming as she whispered, "I love you too beautiful."

Azzi held Paige’s gaze for a moment before suddenly perking up. “One sec,” she said, standing up before Paige could question her.

Paige watched in confusion as Azzi walked toward her actual seat on the bus, rummaging through her bag. “What are you doing?” she said, brows furrowing.

“Hold on,” Azzi replied, focused as she finally pulled something out. She turned back, making her way toward Paige again, a small box now in her hand.

When she reached her, she held it out. “Here,” she said. “Open it.”

Paige looked at the box, then back at Azzi, suspicion flickering across her features. “Azzi…”

Azzi groaned, already anticipating the resistance. “Don’t be difficult.”

Paige huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head before finally lifting the lid. Her breath hitched when she saw the delicate silver necklace inside, a heart-shaped locket resting in the center. She blinked, stunned, before looking back up at Azzi, who was watching her with a soft smile.

“Open the locket,” Azzi said gently.

Paige carefully lifted the necklace from the box, her fingers grazing the cool metal as she unclasped the locket. Inside there was a small picture staring back at her—one of the first pictures they’d taken together. The memory was still so clear even though it seemed like two different versions of them.

A lump formed in Paige’s throat as her fingers trembled slightly, tracing the edge of the locket. No one had ever given her something like this before—something so thoughtful.

Azzi shifted beside her, watching her reaction closely. “You always say I make crowds and things like that easier,” she rambled. “So, I wanted to give you that—so you know I’m always there, even when I can’t be physically next to you.”

Paige took a long exhale, her chest tightening in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Slowly, she looked back up at Azzi, her blue eyes glistening.

“Baby…this is beautiful,” she whispered, her voice almost lost in the empty bus.

Azzi smiled and reached for the locket. “Here, let me put it on.”

Paige turned slightly, pulling her hair to the side as Azzi unclasped the necklace and carefully fastened it around her neck. Her fingers lingered for a moment, rubbing the back of Paige’s neck gently which only made her chest fill with more warmth.

When Paige let her hair fall back into place, her fingers found the locket resting against her shirt. She held it lightly, rubbing her thumb over the surface. “I love it,” she admitted, her voice softer than before, more vulnerable. “I love you.”

Azzi grinned, nudging Paige’s knee with her own. “I know.”

Paige rolled her eyes, a chuckle escaping her lips. “Bro you’re annoying.”

Azzi laughed, nudging her one more time. “I love you too, big head.”

They sat there for a moment in comfortable silence, both knowing they needed to head back inside. With a shared sigh, they stood, their fingers brushing briefly before Azzi stepped toward the door.

Just before they stepped off the bus, Paige gently grabbed Azzi’s wrist, stopping her in place. Azzi turned, a silent question in her eyes, but before she could say anything, Paige tugged her in, pressing a delicate kiss to her lips.

Azzi, of course, kissed her back, her hand resting on Paige’s hip, rubbing a few circles against her skin before she pulled away slightly. “You ready to go back to the chaos?”

Paige huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. “Not really,” she admitted.

Azzi grinned. “Too bad. I gotta go be the people’s princess.” With that, she grabbed Paige’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze before pulling her off the bus. As they neared the entrance, they made sure to drop their hands, slipping seamlessly back into the world that was waiting for them.

This time, though, Paige felt much better about everything.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

361 notes · View notes

miabebe · 7 months ago

Text

The Intruder's Eye (CSC)

Was it really love if it didn't include just a little madness? What was love if it didn't cross the line? And how was it love if it didn't make one want to keep an eye at all times?

Pairing - Afab!reader x Choi Seungcheol

Word count - 6K (I failed the below 5k challenge T.T)

Genre - Oof buckle up my friends. This is a halloween special so I tried not hold back - its a psycho-thriller, there's smut and a whole lot of pyscho-ness whelp Warnings under the cut!

A/n - It's the week leading up to Halloween folks! Unfortunately I'm not the biggest fan of clowns and ghosts and vampires etc, but I do love me a good dose of psychos (who I think are scarier btw) so here you goooo! You can also check out Jeonghan's and Joshua's!

Again @tusswrites and @tomodachiii - what would I do without y'all 🫂 this piece is basically all you guys!

warnings - intruder in the house, mentions of stalking, medications, deranged characters, triggering descriptions of a home intrusion, smut, homemade porn (lol), bondage (mouth and hands), blowjobs, cum eating, riding, rough sex, mentions of toys and anal, manhandling, psycho behaviour, please forgive me I can only allow myself to be this unhinged during spooky season

It was the soft pitter patter of the rain against the car window that woke you up.

Slowly fluttering your eyes open, you looked out down the dark, lonely road on the other side, at the street lights were still obscured by the downpour. It's not as torrential as it was when you stepped out of the grocery store a while ago. It was too heavy for you to even drive then so you settled in your car for a while, waiting for the rain to get less harsh. You didn't realise when you fell asleep.

Looking at the 8pm flashing on your phone screen and the way darkness had engulfed everything around, a strange panic rose in you. You weren't really afraid of staying out too late but given the things that had been happening around you recently - you didn't want to take the risk.

Turning on the engine and shifting the gears, you took a deep breath, and started driving towards home.

The street was empty for the most part - not many cars were on the road given the warnings for the incoming storm earlier that day. You didn't have a choice but to leave - you were suddenly running low on supplies, the shopping list in your hand was almost a page long. You glanced at the groceries at the backseat with a satisfied sigh - guess the newfound cardio routine was doing a good job in working up your appetite.

As you neared your house, the streets became more illuminated, much to your relief. Unlike the rest of the town, your neighbourhood was a much safer space - there were streetlights, surveillance cameras and disguised cops always patrolling the area. Most people who resided here didn't know but many of the inhabitants of these row houses were in fact people placed on witness protection. You knew because you were one of them.

One year ago, your testimony in a high profile case had led to some very bad people finding themselves behind bars. In exchange, you were promised protection, leading to your identity being morphed and your life being relocated to this locality. You were promised that nothing would happen to you here, that you would be very safe. You believed it then, but not so much now - not when you turned into your street and noticed the camera at the end of it was short circuited. Perhaps the storms over the last few days had a hand in it.

You didn’t think much of it.

But maybe you should.

Because as you grabbed your groceries and ran to the door, fishing for your keys, you realised you didn't need them. The door was not locked.

You racked your brains to remember if you had locked the door before you left or if you were in too much of a hurry to beat the incoming rain. Your memory is a little fuzzy, it has been like that for awhile, but you were too cold and aching to just get inside to give it any further thought.

You must've forgotten to lock it - what other explanation could there possibly be?

Balancing the bags in one hand, you slowly pushed the door open as you stepped in, flipping the switches with bated breath.

Everything seemed fine, nothing felt out of place. Releasing a breath you tell yourself that everything is fine - you were clearly overthinking things. Paranoia had been a part of your life ever since the proceedings of that case - you were always wary, always suspicious, always scared. Though, you shouldn't be feeling that way anymore, you had taken your medication - you should be fine.

But how were you supposed to feel fine when every small thing made the hair on your skin stand. Like the curtains in the living room being open for example. You never kept the curtains open, especially not since your new neighbour moved in a few months ago.

He called himself Choi Seungcheolwhen he knocked on the door to offer an introduction. You didn't know if that was his real name or the one the cops had given him as a part of the programme. Either way you didn't ask him lest he might ask you yours in return - you didn't need your identity compromised, not when the gang of those convicts was still actively looking for you. You had simply nodded and shut the door.

Since then, you’ve always had the curtains closed. You had to, because somehow every time you looked out, Seungcheol was by his window, watching you. If you were being honest, Seungcheol was hot as fuck and a year ago, if a man like that was interested in you, you wouldn't have let him go. But things were different now - you couldn't trust anyone anymore.

Walking up to the window, you stumbled over the dumbbell in the way as you glanced at the neighbouring house. The two of your houses were the only ones on the street that weren't covered in Halloween decorations. It made sense - you were both single and did not have to deal with whining, crying, demanding children so there was no need for this facade.

But you weren’t that lackluster, you did buy and keep some candy for the trick or treaters though you wouldn’t know if Seungcheol had done the same - he didn't seem too particularly fond of children. He never let them near the house. In fact he never let anyone into his house. You had never seen a woman or a friendly face from town or even a family member step into his place - he pretty much always kept to himself. It’s not like anyone else in this neighborhood had the luxury for such anyway.

At present, there was no sight of him or even his silhouette, with how the curtains of his house were drawn but all the lights were still on. Sighing a little in relief, you do the same, shutting the blinds. Still feeling the weight of the dumbbell against your foot, you pushed it out of the way, wondering how it had displaced itself from the rest of the workout equipment in the first place. You hadn’t even used those in a while now.

Still lost in thought, you walked into the kitchen and as you turned the lights on, a shiver ran down your spine.

Something was off, something did not seem right.

At first glance everything seemed fine, but looking again carefully–nothing seemed right. The apron wasn't in its usual place by the spice rack, you don’t recall leaving out a glass of water on the counter, or leaving a packet of corn chips open. You never leave things out when you leave, you always put them away.

But things like this had been happening ever since you started your medication. You were more forgetful, and that was inconvenient but without your daily dosage it was like a fight between your nerves and caution - anything that moved invoked fear in you, every small sound made you shiver. There was no choice but to take those pills everyday. It was the only think keeping you sane.

Shaking your head, you organized everything back in place again. Everything was fine. You had taken an extra dosage right before you left the house, you were just a little fazed from all the chemicals. Surely it was just your imagination, it wasn't like anyone could have entered the house in your absence….right?

But there was a half eaten bowl of cereal in the sink and you… you were lactose intolerant, you didn't drink milk - that couldn't be yours. Hands shaking, you took a step back.

Someone was in this house.

Quickly opening the drawer, you grabbed a knife, gripping the handle hard and tight. The only question was, were they still in the house?

Wiping the sweat off your face, you took a small careful step out of the kitchen.

It was quiet, deadly quiet, there was not a sound to be heard, but the hum of the electrical appliances and the soft patter of the rain outside. Then you heard it, ears sharp and sensitive to the sound of water dripping. Slowly you moved towards the washroom, holding your weapon out, breath shaking.

When you cautiously pushed the door open you noticed the floor was wet, water leaking from the shower head, drop after drop. You've never had this problem before, did you have a plumbing issue?

Stepping in, you tried to fix the faucet with your free hand. But no matter how many times you adjusted the hardware, water continued to drip, rendering you unsuccessful in your attempts. It felt like a really strong hand had broken the tap which was silly because you were definitely careful with how you handled your things? Neither could have broken this nor clearly, could you fix it. Annoyed by your failure and the thought of calling maintenance, you stepped out of the shower, catching sight of yourself in the mirror.

There was a strange tiredness etched all over your features, hiding a stranger something behind it. Your eyes had sunken further into their sockets, thin wisps of hair framing your face - You’ve definitely had better days and was… was that a knife in your hand?

You glanced at it quizzically. Why did you step into the shower with a knife?

Softly smacking your head at your silliness, you walked back into the living room, leaving the tap for another day. Half yawning with tiredness were ready to retire for the night when your eyes fell on the grocery bags still waiting for you on the table - you had forgotten about it. Groaning at the thought of having to put everything away, you set the knife on the dining table and grabbed your purchases instead, taking them into the pantry. Perhaps it was because you were too deeply immersed in your organisation, but your otherwise sharp ears missed the rustling of the leaves outside, crunching under someone’s footsteps.

Going through the grocery checklist scribbled in horrible handwriting to make sure you had gotten everything, you swiftly began putting them all in their place. The pastas in the jars, the fruits in the baskets, the sauces in the tray. The heaviest thing you bought was perhaps those huge jars of protein powder. You weren't really sure why you decided to buy it - sure your doctor said you were too weak and needed to exercise to build strength but you didn't need to buy all of the products the Internet recommended to you.

Telling yourself you'll find use for it later, you pushed them onto the shelves and turned to the meat instead, throwing them into the fridge. You didn't really know how to cook meat too well but you wanted to try. Seungcheol had once grilled some meat in his backyard and came over to offer you a few bites. When you tried to take it from him at the door, he pulled his hand back and cocked his head.

“Are you not going to invite me inside?”

He was always trying to make a move on you like that. You knew what he wanted, you knew what he had his eyes on but the answer was, no. You could take the deliciously cooked meat from him but couldn't let him into the house. It was too soon to trust him.

But Seungcheol was relentless.

It was evident with how he was the only one in town who turned up at the video store where you worked. And he came everyday. Normal people didn't borrow a new movie everyday, right? Clearly he was flirting with you. Or at least he was trying to. You only ever behaved professionally with him . Except sometimes, when he asked for movie recommendations of a very specific genre. You didn't really know many serial killer documentaries or crime podcasts to suggest, so you would simply ask a colleague to take over. Over the days, you watched him consume every last bit of thrillers available in the store and distantly wondered if he had a life outside of this consumption.

Perhaps not. Seungcheol seemed a bit odd like that.

He talked to everyone in town but didn't really seem to have any friends. He wasn't home for days together sometimes - you didn't really know the nature of his job so you couldn't tell why his absence was so frequent. He always drove that tiny pickup truck of his with some weird boxes and bags hidden under big blue plastic sheets in the trunk. .

The whole deal about him was just not right. You knew something about him was not right. Even though he was incredibly pleasant on the eye, you had to be wary of him.

You had to be wary of everything. .

But maybe you weren't always as alert as you should be. Because it was only as you were putting away the last of the snacks that you heard that sound - the thumping.

It seemed like it was coming from outside…. Or was it upstairs? It felt like it was coming from right above, like the sound of someone's feet.

And just like that,, you remembered the intruder again - the one who might still be in your home.

Quickly you rushed to grab the knife from the table once more and held it out in defense. Whoever came to the house was most definitely still here, you could feel it in your bones.

As you slowly made your way towards the stairs, trying to maintain a soft footfall to avoid the creaking of the stairs, another sound took you aback.

No, not your racing heart - The doorbell.

Turning sharply, you glanced at the door with wide eyes. Who could it possibly be? At this late hour?

The ringing only became more persistent, morphing into knocks while you inched towards the door, grip on the knife tightening.

As you slowly pressed down the handle and slightly opened the door, you were met with cheerful voices, much to your relief.

“Happy Halloween!”

Before you was a tiny ghost, a pirate, a couple of princesses and a buzz lightyear, all half your height, looking at you surprised.

“Ms. L/n!”

“Hey kiddos.”

“Where's Mr. Choi?” The pirate pouted. “We thought we could finally get him to be nice to us, hand us some treats.”

“Aw.” You pinched his cheek with your free hand. The one that was not hiding the knife behind the door. “Mr. Choi isn't in town sadly.”

The little kid looked at you quizzically. “Then what are you doing in his house?”

Oh.

You blinked at him while he looked up at you expectantly.

Then your lips split into a sweet, saccharine smile.

“He asked me to look after it while he was gone.”

“When will Mr. Choi be back?”

You glanced at the inquisitive little ghost, fiddling with the knife in your hand.

Please, please don't make me use this.

“Do you want an answer or candy?” You cocked your head cheekily. “I'm only giving out one.”

“Candy!” They screamed as you laughed and reached for the packet you had just bought, ripping it open with the knife.

They watched excitedly as you dropped handfuls of chocolate into their little baskets and plastic pumpkins. With a scream of “Ms. L/N is the best!” they scurried away to their next target of the night. And so did you, tossing the knife onto the table once again.

You clutched your head and released a low hiss of irritation at the dull throb.Those stupid medicines were really getting to your head now, you were forgetting too many important things. Thank fuck for the children, otherwise you would have never remembered what really had to be done.

Locking the door behind you, you quickly made your way up the stairs. There was no need to head softly - the stairs had a tendency to creak in your house, not in Seungcheol’s.

The thumping from earlier was more pronounced now as your senses slowly cleared up, much like how the light flooded from underneath the bedroom door. The soft thumps are getting louder and louder as you neared it. With a twist of the knob and swing of the door, you tilt your head with a smile.

Light flooded from underneath the bedroom door, the soft thumping sound getting louder and louder as you neared it. Opening it wide, you cocked your head with a smile.

There he was.

Sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, Seungcheol was looking gorgeous as ever. He was dressed in just his grey sweatpants, the thick muscles of his shoulders and pecs bared before you. His biceps too were popping on either side thanks to the fact that his hands were tied at the back of the chair. Oh and his mouth was gagged shut, his words turning into muffled whimpers as he looked at you wide eyed, halting the stomping of his feet.

“I know, I know, I'm sorry.” You raised your hands apologetically. “I meant to be back soon but you know how I am, forgetful little me. I'm sorry baby.” You neared him, walking around his chair, bending to whisper in his ear. “But I see you're having your fun.”

Your eyes flickered from the tent in his pants to the laptop you left on for his entertainment, right in the line of his vision. You see yourself on the screen, dressed in the hottest lingerie you owned, looking right in the camera with the vibrator held just where you needed him and only one name spilling from your mouth - Seungcheol.

This wasn't the video you played from him before you left for the grocery store - perhaps they were auto playing, lucky him. You had hours of such footage of yourself - in all kinds of positions, with every possible toy, in role play costumes, in every possible color of lingerie, you had an unmatchable variety. The only thing common among all of them was his name. Choi Seungcheol.

Could you be blamed? The man was unbelievably attractive. It wasn't like you didn't try to avoid him, to repel all that magnetism. You were well aware of your nature - it hadn't been long since you had gotten a chance to start afresh and you didn't want to spiral again. You really really didn't.

But Seungcheol was persistent. He wouldn't stop flirting with you at any given chance, he kept trying to invite himself home, he was consistently intrusive. You kept him at bay for the longest time, at least until the day you had to return the box he had left with you, the one in which he gave you the grilled meat.

You didn't expect him to open the door with his shirt off, slick with sweat, flushed and half panting. When you caught sight of the dumbbells behind him, could tell he was working out but somehow you couldn't help but think this was probably how he looked when he fucked and god did that make your mouth water.

That day he shouldn't have invited you in. Then you wouldn't have found your resolve crumbling so weakly. You wouldn't have found yourself under him being pounded like there was no tomorrow. You wouldn't have crossed the line like this.

What started that day set off a cascade of events. Sleeping with Seungcheol became quite a regular act - there was no part of you that he had left unexplored, untouched. He was in every crevice, every cell, you were entirely consumed by him. When you were at work, all you could think about was how well he fucked you the day before. When you were on the way home, all you could think about was how well he was going fuck you today. Even after you reached, you always made it a point to immediately wash up, wear your nicest underwear and knock on his door. You always did it at his house.

He did try to come to your place a couple of times but you consistently steered the two of you back to his house somehow. It was one thing to let him cum in you but to come into your house? You couldn’t have that happening, he’d ask too many questions - why do you never use the garage Y/n? Why was it always locked Y/n? Why did you have a ridiculous number of gardening tools in your house when you don’t even grow any plants Y/n? You knew the questions wouldn't seize and the answers weren’t good for him. They weren't good for anyone who's heard them all these years.

Another reason you didn't want him home was because you didn't want to ruin the surprise.

Now, Seungcheol was a self-sufficient man. He was happy with himself, his life, his home, his solitude. It was evident all he was looking for in you was a good fuck - afterall, he would never ask you to stay the night or to be his girlfriend even though you'd been seeing each other for months. You were okay with that….. for now. The two of you were still exploring, still understanding each other's bodies and limits. You didn't mind him taking his time, you needed your time as well.

You see, Seungcheol loved his home. He loved every piece of furniture, every bowl, every mat - he was incredibly fond of his space, taking all the time and effort in the world to curate it. You, on the other hand, didn't really care much for your house. As long as it could fulfill basic needs and keep you safe, you were good - it wasn't like you stayed for long in one place anyways. But your heart knew that you wanted to stay with Seungcheol for the rest of your life. There was something dark about him too that told you he belonged with you the way you belonged to him. You wanted him to feel like he belonged to you too, you wanted him to feel at home with you. You wanted to be his home.

That's why you took months together to design and turn your house into an identical replica of Seungcheol’s.

And when you say replica you mean down to the T. Everything was the same. You made sure it was the same. All those times he was away for days together thanks to his job, you found yourself slipping into his house taking detailed notes of every object, every piece. You would only see, not touch or take anything away. Come on, you were no thief, thieves are bad people..

After that you had spent all your time online or going from store to store, finding originals and duplicates of his belongings. Given that he loved to have really exclusive pieces in his house they were not easy to procure but with a little sweet talk, a little threatening and a little unspeakable things, you had somehow managed to bring them all home. To the home you were making for him.

Earlier this week, you had gotten hold of the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle - a childhood photo of Seungcheol's family, framed and hung on the wall. It was the hardest thing to get your hands on. His estranged sister would not leave her house for long enough - it took a major occupational accident at her husband's construction site to finally get her moving.

With everything finally in place today, just as the sun began to set, you went over to Seungcheol's house to bring him over at last, to show him what you had done for him. Seeing how his front door was unlocked you stepped in, curiously looking around for him. But that feeling evaporated the moment you heard that sound - the sound of a woman moaning.

It felt like the ground under your feet had slipped. Perhaps that was why you grabbed the baseball bat leaning against the wall, to give your shaking hands something to hold on to as you made your way to his bedroom…. He didn't even bother to shut the door.

There he was, sitting on the bed with his laptop open before him, frantically getting himself off to the video of some pizza delivery girl getting her “payment”.

Porn. He was watching porn.

The moment his eyes fell on you by the door, he quickly tucked his length into his sweats and jumped off the bed, looking at you like you were crazy. Oh no Choi Seungcheol. He didn't just do that. He shouldn't have. Maybe then you wouldn't have swung the bat and knocked him out cold. Maybe he wouldn't have found himself in the middle of the room all tied up when he came around.

You just couldn't understand him. What was the need for him to look at other women or even think of one when you were right there? Was he bored of you? Were you not enough? You did everything you could to keep him - every depraved fantasy, every humiliating act, every time he was rough to bruise you for days together, you took it all, you begged for more. Then why was he doing this?

When he finally opened his eyes, he didn't answer your questions, he was simply screaming to set free. Well of course the only thing you could do was to shut his mouth in some way and with him unable to speak, you had to find other ways to get answers. You needed to find out if Seungcheol was just not attracted to you anymore.

That's why you brought out your video collection, little films you had taken of yourself back when you were still pushing him away, all while wondering what it was like to get fucked by him. His mouth may say whatever but anatomy couldn't lie right? There was something else that could stand up and answer you.

You had meant to stay and watch, afterall, you were proud of the quality of your content but the flashes of thunder outside told you that perhaps it was wiser for you to go to the store first. You knew whatever was going to transpire wouldn't be over any time soon, you had to stock up before the storm locked you in. Besides, it was Halloween night, all the cute little kids would be coming around for candy, you didn't want to miss out on that.

You didn't and thanks to them, you didn't succumb to your forgetfulness and miss out on this either.

“There there.” You cooed, removing his gag and he coughed, unable to regain his ability to speak just yet. You waited for him to come around, walking back to sit on the edge of the bed as he looked at you meekly.

“Water.” He whispered, voice just a little horse.

You raised your eyebrow. How did he manage to sound so sexy all the time?

“Thirsty are we?” You smiled. “I thought my gift might have helped.”

“Y/n please.” He groaned. “What kind of sick joke is this?”

Oh. He thinks it's a joke. A little Halloween scare perhaps. A prank gone overboard. Oh he has no idea.

“I think it's me who you take for a joke.” You glanced down at his raging boner. “Or not, considering how excited you are.”

You got up, leaning over him, hand gripping the back of his chair.

“I'll help you.” You licked your lips. “Either I'll untie you, take my little collection and get out of here. Or I'll help with your not so little predicament with any and every hole I have…. Pick your poison.”

Seungcheol looked at you wide eyed. His breath was shaking, lips were quivering and a hundred and one things seemed to be running behind those pretty eyes.

Slowly gulping, his Adams apple moving with a bob, he shut his eyes.

“It's unbearable.” He mumbled. “It's just…. Please help me.”

And you knew exactly what he wanted you to do.

Sliding off the bed, you got on your knees, crawling up to him, slotting yourself between his legs. Seungcheol’s eyes flew open when your hands found his thigh, a soft sigh tumbling out of his mouth. He loved to fuck your mouth. He loved how eager to please you always were, always trying to take in more of him, always trying to do better. God he loved it.

He watched as you pulled his sweats down the best you could and wrapped your tiny hand around his dick. He was raging hard, the tip flushed in an angry red, precum smeared all over. You were lucky he was in your control now. If he were allowed to have his way, he might just break you.

Stroking him agonisingly slowly, you inched closer to place a small kiss on his tip, the softest interaction that had ever happened between the two of you. Before Seungcheol could even relish that moment you wrapped your lips around his length and took him all the way in. Fucking hell. Seungcheol thought he was going to pass out with how intensely you were blowing him. He wished you'd untie his hands. He'd go anything to just push your head down his dick and feel himself in your throat. That was a sureshot at making him come, these shallow and fast bobs of your head were only aggravating him.

Maybe that's what you wanted. Because the moment he let out his tell tale groan, letting you know he was close, you pulled away with a pop and wrapped your hand around his cock instead. Before he could complain about losing the warmth of your mouth you began stroking him fast thanks to the wetness of your spit and before you knew it, he felt himself reaching that high, meaningless words leaving his mouth. With a few more jerks, he came all over himself in spurts, ropes of white coating his abdomen.

As he tried to battle his feelings of relief after finding a much needed release, disappointment for not coming in your mouth, and slight fear, not understanding what the hell was going on, you slowly let him go, wiping your hand on his sweats. Looking straight into his eyes, you leaned forward, gathering the cum all over his skin with your tongue and showing it to him before you swallowed it. Fuck, Seungcheol felt the blood rushing down there again. He was far from done tonight.

Getting up you looked at him questioningly though you were well aware of the answer.

“Do you need more?”

Unable to do anything else, he nodded slowly, whispering please.

Smirking, you quickly stripped yourself out of your clothes. You would have made a show out of it, tease him slowly but you were equally desperate to fuck him so you quickly abandoned that idea. Throwing your garments somewhere, you clambered onto his lap, aligning yourself over his dick. You didn't need any prep or lube, you were practically dripping from just blowing him.

Slowly sinking onto his length you threw your head back, finally feeling full. Seungcheol moaned too, burying his face between your boobs as you bottomed out, your grip like a vice. Holding onto his shoulders you began fucking yourself on his length, snapping your hips relentlessly. You could tell the feeling was too much for Seungcheol too as he bit on the soft skin of your breasts. It stung painfully but you let him - you always let him do whatever he wanted to you anyways.

“Tired?” He looked up at you with a triumphant smirk as your pace began to falter thanks to the not so comfortable position of your legs. “Are you finally going to ask me for help?”

You shook your head. You didn't want him to have the upper hand anymore.

“Don't be stubborn, doll. You know it's better when I have my hands on you.” He ran his tongue along your breast, relishing the sweet and salty taste of you. “Untie my hands and we can make this better y/n. I know how much you love my fingers up your ass, and how much you like the grip on my hands all over you and how much you want me . Come on baby, untie me.”

You didn't want to, you really didn't want to but a part of you knew he was right. He could make you feel so good.

Reaching over you pulled on the knot holding his hands together and in a flash his hands gripped the bottom on your thighs and with the sheer strength of his that you loved, he got up, lifting you along with him. Immediately pinning you to the wall, he began thrusting into you, drawing out the most exquisite moans from you as he hit the spot again and again and again. When unable to hold it anymore, you came around him, he tossed you onto the bed, pounding into you mercilessly, making you cum around him one more time before he painted your ass and back with his own release. Even then the night was far from over.

After that he fucked you almost till dawn, pushing you to the limit as he made you cum so many times, you couldn't even keep count anymore. All you knew was that every bit of your body was screaming and creaming in pleasure - it was confirmed, you had to have Seungcheol for life, you had to do whatever it took to keep this insane man forever. You didn't know how but you could think about that later. For now, as day break approached, the two of you passed out in his bed.

Seungcheol looked at you under the afternoon sun streaming into his room. You were fast asleep - he tried waking you up a couple of times but you just would not budge. Finally giving up he resorted to just staring at you.

Last night was…. better than Seungcheol’s wildest dreams. He always knew he was a bit of a freak, but he didn't think he'd find someone to match it in this quiet town he had been reluctant to relocate to. Even when he first met you, he thought you'd be one sweet love making session at most but you took him completely by surprise. You were as wild as he was - you were down for anything he asked, you never said no and most importantly, you enjoyed it all. Seungcheol thought he had hit the jackpot with you.

But yesterday was most definitely not normal. At that time he was thinking with his dick because all the blood in his body was clearly there but as he looked back at what happened, nothing about it was right. You had knocked him out, tied and gagged him up before you left him. You had hours of footage of you pleasuring yourself to the thought of him…

Seungcheol had noticed the dates. It was way before the two of you had begun your little arrangement and he didn't know what to think about that. There were tiny sirens going off in his head telling him to run as fast as he could but Seungcheol couldn't stop staring at you. You were ridiculously beautiful and he just had the best sex of his life last night.

When you whined softly and turned over in your sleep, Seungcheol finally rolled off the bed and dressed himself. Finding your scattered clothes on the floor he gathered them, looking at them with a frown. He couldn't have you wear these again and his clothes were far too big for your tiny frame. Maybe it was time to start making room in his closet for a few of your clothes.

Knowing how tired you must be given last night's events, he silently fished out the keys from the pocket of your pants and decided to bring you a fresh pair from your house.

He shouldn't have gone over. He never should have stepped into your house. Maybe then the tiny sirens in his head wouldn't have become a full blown ringing.

If he had never discovered the truth of your house, if he wasn’t staring at an exact replica of his space, maybe he would've never come to terms that last night was indeed extremely abnormal.

You were not normal.

Something was very very wrong with you, the dozens of medications on the dining table were a testament of that. Seungcheol knew he had to go. He had to leave you and that house and this town. He needed to run away from this madness.

But when he turned to leave, he felt his heart stop just for a second.

There you were, right at the door, dressed in yesterday's clothes, looking at him expressionlessly. Your eyes ran over his face as he felt the hair on his skin stand.

He had to go, he had to get the hell out of here.

“Oh baby.”

You cocked your head at him, leaning against the frame with a small smile.

This was an expression you had never seen on Seungcheol's face before - a mix of shock and fear and repulsion. You could tell he wanted to run. You knew he would end things now, you knew it was over but alas, it was too late to let him go.

You couldn't let him go.

Taking a step ahead, you slowly closed the door behind you, inching closer to him, yesterday’s knife stashed safely in the back pocket of your pants.

“Do you want to see what's in my garage?”

A/n - As usual, comments and reblogs are much appreciated - I'd love to hear your thoughts, it really helps :) You can also read Jeonghan's and Joshua's :)

537 notes · View notes

heyimkana · 13 days ago

Note

Hey Kana... I just saw my crush hugging another girl (it hurt me) because I've liked him for about 10 years. Can you make a short scenario about Jinwoo comforting a crying Reader?💔❤️‍🩹

omg babe 😭 i'm so sorry to hear that 😭 I hope you're doing much better now 🥺 i'm sorry this took me a while but i wanted to make sure i wrote something decent enough to cheer you up hehe

(i tried to keep the mood light and fluffy cause i figured you already cried enough afjslddsfsdf 😭. Also, to make it easier to read, I changed your crush's name to Kihoon LOL I hope that's okay!)

It’s late evening. Jinwoo’s apartment is dimly lit, wrapped in the soft glow of a few scattered lamps and the pale light bleeding through the curtains from the streetlamps outside. He sits on the couch, a stack of Hunter Association documents spread across the coffee table in front of him—urgent, of course—but his pen stills mid-sentence when a knock echoes through the apartment.

He already knows who it is. That familiar heartbeat. That unmistakable presence.

“Coming,” he calls, setting the pen aside as he stands.

When he opens the door, there you are—his childhood friend. The one he’s secretly loved for years. But tonight, you're not smiling. You look like the world cracked open beneath your feet.

“Hey, what happe—” Before he can finish, your voice slices through the silence.

“Oppa, you know how I always see you as a big brother, right?”

His brows pull together at the suddenness of your words, but his expression stays gentle. “Yeah, of course. What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Can I be really childish and annoying for a minute?”

He can’t help the corner of his mouth from twitching. “You’re annoying every day, so I’m kind of used to it.”

You take a deep breath. And then—

“LOVE SUCKS!”

Jinwoo flinches at the sudden outburst, eyes wide. He glances down the hallway, half-expecting a neighbor to peek out, then looks back at you, ears still ringing. “That’s… a very loud opinion.”

“Oh, I’ve got opinions, alright!” you rant, unstoppable. “Love is overrated. Relationships are overrated. Anyone in love is either an idiot or a masochist! No matter how much you love someone, they’ll always fall for someone else. Someone prettier. With a nicer smile, or a better nose, or who can sing or cook or do stupid backflips or—ugh! BEING IN LOVE IS SO STUPID!”

Jinwoo stands quietly, watching you unravel—equal parts surprised and quietly amused. You’re fiery. Heartbreakingly endearing, even when furious.

“…And what brought this on?”

“No reason,” you say, waving your hands like you’re swatting the truth away. “I just think love is stupid. Don’t you agree?”

He sighs and steps aside to let you stomp in properly. “Alright, drama queen. Come in before you wake up my neighbors.” With a soft chuckle, he closes the door behind you.

“I told you I was going to be childish,” you mutter, collapsing onto the couch.

He follows, settling beside you, his voice gentler now. “Okay. So what really happened?”

Guided by that gentleness, that sincere concern laced with curiosity, your facade shatters, revealing a frail, doleful girl underneath. “I saw... Son Kihoon hugging Han Semi today. I guess they’re together now.” The exhale that escapes you carries a piece of a broken heart, your voice softening, cracking on the edges. “I know it's just a crush, but… I've liked him for ten years now. It hurts.”

His heart clenches. Seeing you like this—so raw, so wounded—makes something ache deep in his chest. He wants to pull you into his arms, to soothe you with his warmth, to kiss your temple to make you realize you’re not as alone and unloved as you think you are. But he doesn’t. He never does. Doesn’t allow himself to.

“I get it,” he says softly. “Ten years is a long time."

You tighten your fists, your teeth sinking into your quivering lip. "I-if I cry, will you laugh at me?"

Jinwoo hates it. Hates that there's someone out there who makes you cry, and he can't do anything about it. Hates that you're crying over something that he can't help recover. He sighs, all due to the disappointment he holds toward himself. "No," he says, his smile tender. "No, I won't."

And with that, he strips you bare. You break down into tears, your nails sinking into your thighs before he pulls you close with one hand, letting you rest your face in the curve of his shoulder. He just sits there and wait, his fingers threading carefully through your strands, pacifying you without a word. But that's the comfort you desperately need. You didn't seek for advice, didn't want to be told white lies, you just needed a shoulder to cry on and he gave it to you, broad and warm with a calming, pleasant scent that soothes you to your bone.

He still hates it. If only he was the one you were in love with. He would've never made you feel this way. And he would've held your hand, and kissed your tears away, one by one, replacing them with silent affection.

After a while, you finally regain the strength to pull away. He smiles softly, fingers itching to brush away the tears. "Better now?"

"Yeah." You sniffle. "Sorry, I... got my snots all over your jacket. I've never seen you worn this before. Is it brand new?"

"Yes."

"Sorry."

"It's all right."

You look at each other and you find yourself trading chuckles. "God, I feel so much better now. Screw Kihoon. I don't need him. Not when I have you, right, Oppa?" You beam, bumping your shoulders together.

Jinwoo's lips tighten into a line but he forces them to curve. "You knew from the start, didn't you? That he didn’t feel the same way?”

You nod, your heart still aching over the thought. “Well, yeah… but it doesn’t stop the pain.”

Jinwoo watches as your lower lip trembles and you quickly turn your face away, blinking back the tears that threaten to emerge again. He stays silent, hands clenched in his lap. He wants to reach out. He always does. But he shouldn't.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” he says, sympathy in his eyes. “At least now you can move on.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never fallen for someone who didn’t like you back, have you? I mean, look at you—if you liked someone, she’d be insane not to like you back. You wouldn’t get how this feels, Oppa.”

The words hit harder than they should.

He looks at you, lips parting as if to speak, but then—he hesitates. He wants to tell you. How wrong you are. That he knows exactly how it feels. That he lives it every day you smile at him and call him Oppa.

“You’d be surprised how wrong you are,” he says quietly.

You blink. “What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Jinwoo rises to his feet, trying to shake the weight in his chest. “Well... I’ve got ice cream. Want some?”

“Oppa…” Your voice is small, fragile, but there’s a shimmer in your eyes, a hint of gratitude, and a quite joy amidst the sadness. “Yes, please.”

A tender, affectionate smile adorns his lips. “Okay.” He ruffles your hair, like how a caring brother would, then heads into the kitchen. When he returns, he has a pint of ice cream and two spoons. Without a word, he sits beside you again, sets the ice cream between you both, and offers you one of the spoons. “All right, dig in.”

You grab the spoon with a sniff. “If I get fat, I’m blaming both Son Kihoon and you.”

Jinwoo chuckles, the sound low and warm. “If you get fat, that’s on you. I’m just here being a supportive friend in your time of crisis.”

You shoot him a look, lips twitching upward. “Couldn’t you have supported me in a way that didn’t involve ruining my waistline?”

He leans back slightly, teasing. “And how exactly should I have supported you, then?”

You tap your spoon against your chin, thinking aloud. “Hmm… What could the great S-Rank Hunter Sung Jinwoo do to make a girl happy?”

He hums to himself, playing along. “I could punch Son Kihoon for you.”

You gasp dramatically, hand to your chest. “Don’t you dare! He’s my precious one.”

He rolls his eyes, but his smile falters for half a second. That word—precious—burns just a little too much when it’s meant for someone else. Jinwoo pokes your side again, light and playful. “You say ‘precious.’ I say… ‘punchable.’”

You laugh, finally. A real, full laugh. “You know, Oppa, you don’t act like this around anyone else, do you? In public, you’re always so serious. The stoic, silent type. But here you are, being a complete dork.”

“I see your mood’s improving,” he scoffs. “That sharp tongue of yours is back.” He shrugs then, more quietly. “I guess it just means I’m more myself around you.”

“Oh, I’m still upset, don’t get me wrong. But this ice cream is doing wonders.” When you glance at him, the impish gleam in your eyes softens. You brush your shoulder gently against his, eyes warm. “I’m glad you can be yourself around me. I feel the same way, too. That’s why I came here, you know? The moment I felt awful, my feet just… brought me here. Because I knew you’d somehow make it better. I always feel at ease with you, Oppa.”

His heart clenches. Every word you say is exactly what he wants to hear—just not like this. Not while he’s still just the “safe” one. The “comfort” one. The friend. But he swallows that ache down.

“Of course. Anytime,” he murmurs, forcing out a smile. “What are friends for?”

You pause, eyes a little hesitant when you stare at him. “Hey, can I… be completely honest for a second? It’s gonna sound really sappy. Maybe even cringe. Just warning you.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Go ahead. I’ll try not to cringe too hard.”

You set the ice cream on your lap and let out a slow breath. “You know how people say you can’t choose who you love?” You tarry, watching his face carefully. “Sometimes I think… if I could choose—if I could forget Kihoon for even a second—and choose someone to fall for… I’d choose you, Oppa.”

He turns still.

It hits him like a quiet earthquake, everything shifting beneath his feet. It’s both everything he’s wanted to hear… and the most painful hypothetical he’s ever been handed.

He looks down, struggling to keep his expression neutral. “And… why would you choose me?”

“A thousand reasons,” you answer instantly with a smile, tender yet radiant. “You’re kind. You’ve always been there when I needed someone. You protect me—even when you’re not physically there, I still feel protected. You’re blunt sometimes, but never cruel. You tell the truth when everyone else feeds me sweet lies. You’re strong, stronger than anyone I know. And I always feel safe around you. Comforted. Like being at home, surrounded by the people I love.” You slow down for a bit, voice quieter now. “You respect people—women, especially. You take good care of your family. I’ve watched you carry burdens most people wouldn’t survive, and you never ask for anything in return. Meanwhile, here I am sobbing over a guy who barely saw me. You’re everything I aim to be. I admire you so much, Oppa.”

He swallows hard. The lump in his throat is stubborn. “I… see.”

Jinwoo fixates his gaze on his lap before it slowly travels back to you. You’re smiling, relaxed, completely unaware of how deeply you’ve just wounded and uplifted him all at once.

“I don’t think I deserve all that,” he says. “I’m just… me.”

You nudge his knee with yours. “Exactly. That’s why I admire you. You don’t pretend to be anyone else. You’re just you.” Your grin stretches on your face, brighter than the sun. “You’re cool, Oppa. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

He wants to scream. Or laugh. Or just hold you and tell you the truth—that the girl who’s “lucky” enough to have him already exists. She’s sitting right here. And she doesn’t want him.

“Really?” he says instead, a little dry. “Any girl?”

You hum, scooping another spoonful. “Why? Do you have someone in mind?”

He tries to laugh it off. “No. Just surprised. You make it sound like I could have anyone I wanted.”

You tilt your head, chewing thoughtfully. “I can’t imagine anyone turning you down, honestly. She’d have to be insane.”

Every word is another twist of the blade. Jinwoo smiles—because he always does—but inside, his heart’s bleeding.

He watches you enjoy your ice cream, your expression soft and cheerful again. “How long are you going to keep eating that?”

“Shut up,” you grumble around another spoonful. “I’m eating my feelings, thank you very much. Also, I feel super embarrassed after that whole confession, so I need to distract myself with sugar and denial.”

He laughs softly, watching you avoid the conversation with spoonfuls of ice cream. You’re so cute when you’re flustered, and something about seeing you like this—curled on his couch, eating the comfort food he brought—makes his chest feel warm. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?" You tilt your head to the side. "Sure.”

He draws in a breath. The question is simple, but the answer might ruin him. Still, he has to know. “Hypothetically… if I told you I liked someone, what would you say?”

You blink, taken aback. “Hmm… I’d ask who the lucky girl is. You’ve never talked to me about girls before—so I don’t even know your type. But if you told me her name and she was, like, the worst person alive, I’d have to slap some sense into you.” Your body shakes lightly with mirth at the thought.

He smiles at that. It’s comforting knowing you'd be honest, even if it hurt. “But what if she’s not the worst? What if she’s actually… a really good person?”

That makes you pause. He notices your smile falter just a bit, your fingers stilling against your cup. “Well… I guess I’d be happy for you then.” You glance away. “And maybe a little jealous. You got to be in a relationship before me. But yeah… I’d be glad.”

His gaze lingers on your face. He should feel relieved—but all he feels is a sharp ache in his chest. “Yeah? You’d be happy for me?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” You toss him a small, earnest smile. “You’re like a brother to me, Oppa. If someone out there makes you happy, that’s a good thing.”

The word brother hits harder than it should. He swallows, hard. “Right. Of course.”

“So… who is she?”

“What?”

“Come on, you’ve never asked things like this before. There must be someone in your mind. Who is it?”

His lips curve into a mischievous smile, a shield for the storm inside. “Not telling.”

You narrow your eyes. “That doesn’t sound fair. I told you everything about Kihoon.”

He shrugs with exaggerated indifference. “Welcome to a one-sided conversation.”

“You jerk. I take back every nice thing I said about you earlier. You’re annoying.” But you’re smiling, leaning toward him with that same stubborn determination that always gets him in trouble. “C’mon, Oppa. Just a hint?”

He chuckles at how relentless you are. “You’re such a pain in the ass, you know that?”

You pout. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll guess. You just nod if I get it right.”

“You’re turning this into a game now?” he says, trying not to laugh.

“I have to, don’t I? Cause you’re being a pain in my ass.” You finish your last drop of ice cream, setting the cup aside. “Okay, first guess—Cha Hae-In.”

He bursts into a soft chuckle. “Wrong.”

You gape. “Seriously? Not her? But she’s gorgeous!”

“She is,” he agrees, shaking his head, “but nope.”

You frown, deep in thought. “Uhh… Park Heejin?”

It amuses him further. You’re just naming all of the attractive girls now. “Nope.”

“Ugh. Who is it then?” You tap your chin, fully invested now. “I’ve got one guess left, right?”

He leans forward slightly, intrigued despite himself. “Mm. Make it count.”

You squint at him, ruminating for a moment, before your eyes brighten with enlightment. “Oh, I know. It’s been obvious this whole time. I’m a genius. The answer was right in front of me.”

His breath catches. Your confidence makes his heart hammer in his chest.

You beam, your chin tilted upward in confidence. “It’s Joohee. Lee Joohee.”

Silence. Then—“What?”

“Joohee! You guys used to be super close. She liked you even back when you were still an E-rank. She’s the only one that makes sense.”

He stares at you, then bursts into laughter—half in disbelief, half in agony. “You… You think I’m in love with Joohee?”

You frown. “Why is that so funny?”

“God, you’re ridiculous,” he mutters through chuckles, shaking his head. “So, so stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

He finally calms down, meeting your glare with a gaze filled with both fondness and exasperation. “It's not Johee."

"Who, then?"

"I can’t tell you,” he says softly, his smile fading into something gentler, more vulnerable.

“Why not?” You pout again, more serious this time. “I thought we told each other everything…”

He hesitates. He’s standing on the edge of a precipice, heart pounding. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he says quietly. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with a mix of longing and fear. “If I told you… would you be mad?”

Your brows furrow. “Why would I be mad?”

“Just promise me you won’t be,” he says, his voice rougher now, almost pleading. “Whatever I say… just listen, okay? Don’t… walk away. Don’t hate me.”

You look a little unsettled, but you nod. “You’re scaring me, but… Okay. I promise.”

He exhales slowly, gathering every ounce of courage he has. “There’s something I’ve never told you. I’ve carried it for a long time… and I kept quiet, thinking it was better that way.” His voice is shaking now, his gaze locked to yours. “But being around you tonight, hearing the things you said… I just—” He breaks a little, his next line slipping out in a breathy whisper. “I don’t think I can hide it anymore.”

You’re silent, watching him. Listening.

“I… I’m in love with you,” he says at last and your breath hitches in your throat.

"What...?"

“I'm in love with you," he repeats, firmly this time, holding your gaze even though his own wavers, terrified of rejection. "I've been in love with you for a while and I’ve been trying not to be. But every time you walk into a room, everything else just... fades. You’re so important to me, more than anyone—more than anything—else. You drive me crazy, you’re stubborn, you’re impatient, and you’re loud—so loud—and you’re messy with your ice cream, and you call me annoying—but—” He stops for air, his heart thrumming, his voice reducing to almost a murmur. “I’d take all of that if it meant I got to stay by your side.”

You’re frozen in place, barely breathing. “Oppa—”

“And I know you don’t feel the same way,” he rushes, his head falling forward as he clasps his hands together, his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping himself, trying to maintain control. “I know I’m just a friend to you. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t care more than that.” His voice nearly shatters. “You’re everything to me. And it fucking kills me because… I can’t have you.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, lips parted in surprise. He searches your face, waiting—dreading—your response. Every second feels like an eternity, like a pair of hands clasping tight around his throat.

And then, quietly, you say, “I… I’ve never noticed that you... feel that way about me.”

He lets out a short, humorless laugh, something brittle and small. “You’ve never noticed that I don’t talk to other girls the way I talk to you? That I don't treat them the way I treat you?” His heart races, every word scraped from the rawest part of him.

Your stomach flips. “No, I—” The words catch in your throat and you surrender with your shoulders sagging. “Since… Since when…?”

Jinwoo draws in a shaky breath, his gaze never leaving yours. “Years. I’ve been in love with you for years.”

If your heart hadn’t broken before, it’s crumbling to pieces now. “Y-years…?”

He looks away. “I always knew you didn’t feel the same. That’s why I never said anything. I was going to take it to my grave, but...” His voice falters, thick with emotion. You can hear the vulnerability trembling at the edges of each word.

You’re perched still on your seat. Your heart beats like a drum. “I... I don’t know what to say…”

He closes his eyes briefly, collecting himself. When he opens them again, he wears an expression that breaks your heart—so calm, so gentle, and yet unmistakably pained.

“It’s fine. Like I said, I know you don’t feel the same. I know this probably changes things between us, but… It doesn’t have to. If all you want is for us to stay friends... I’ll understand. I’ll… We’ll stay that way. I promise.” His voice is careful, low, hushed—like he’s offering something fragile that’s already starting to crack.

Your jaw tightens. Taking a breath, you steel yourself and capture his gaze. “Oppa, I... I’ve only ever thought of you as a brother and—”

“I know,” he cuts you off, quietly. He doesn’t flinch, but you can feel the weight in his voice. “You don’t have to say it. I get it.”

You bite your lip, guilt twisting in your chest. There’s something else you want to confess, something that you’ve been buried deep down, too, just like his feelings, but you’re unsure if you should say it. No, he's not letting you say it. “I’m sorry…” It’s all you manage to say for now as your feelings are still in disarray.

He shakes his head, trying to soften the ache with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. “Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one being stupid—confessing when I should’ve just kept being your friend.”

Your heart plummets to your stomach. “Oppa, that’s not—”

But Jinwoo stands abruptly, not wanting to prolong the conversation. His disappointment hangs heavy in the air. His gaze everywhere but your face. “It’s already late. I should take you home.”

“You... You want me to leave?”

He hesitates, visibly torn. He wants to stay, to talk, to hope—but also to run. “It’s… for the best. We both need some space.”

His voice is flat. Controlled. It’s the only way he knows how to survive this.

You watch him, eyes shaking both in incredulity and heartbreak. He’s just going to end the conversation like this?

It doesn’t matter what you think. He’s already made his decision. Jinwoo snatches his keys, grabs you another jacket to protect you from the cold night air, and walks to the door, holding it open for you like he’s holding open the end of something you never thought would end.

You return to your feet, feeling like they’re shackled. And with every step you take, your heart begs you to stay. Begs him to turn around, and see you, and smile at you the way he always does.

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t look at you, not anymore.

***

The car ride is suffocating.

Silence presses down like fog. Jinwoo’s hands are white-knuckled on the steering wheel, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed forward. He doesn’t acknowledge you, not even with a glance.

When he pulls up in front of your apartment, he shuts off the engine. The car goes still, painfully quiet. “We’re here,” he says, voice taut.

And it snaps, the patience and the self-control that have been thinning into a thread. “Oppa—”

He stops you with a call of your name. His voice is sharp, not angry—just strained, leaving your lips parted with nothing to say. “It’s… It’s really late. Just go inside and take a rest. I’ll see you around.”

Your chest tightens. It feels like rejection, like the door to your friendship is quietly closing. The words you had been composing all the way here crumble into dust. You step out of the car, still too rattled to say good night, and drag your feet toward the building, your heart aching.

Behind you, Jinwoo watches with every cell in his body begging him to reach out. To apologize. To talk. To run toward you and hug you and stroke your hair and explain why he doesn’t have the strength to look at you just yet. His hands tremble, itching to do just that, but he doesn’t move.

When you disappear from view, he drops his head into his hands.

“Fuck.”

He presses his forehead to the steering wheel, breathing hard, every breath an effort to stay in one piece. After a long moment, he gets out of the car and sucks in the night air. The cold air bites at him, but it’s nothing compared to the ache inside.

Then, out of nowhere, he hears it.

“Oppa!”

Your voice cuts through the night like a blade. His eyes snap open. You’re running toward him, eyes brimming with tears.

“What—” His voice catches. “Why are you here? I thought you went inside—”

“I hate you!” you cry, storming up to him. Your fists hit his chest as tears spill over. “You’re so unfair!”

He stumbles back, against the car, stunned. Your name tumbles off his lips but you don’t give him a chance to follow that with anything else.

“Years!” you shout, hitting him again, clouds of your hot breath painting the frosty night. “You’ve been in love with me for years and only now you decided to tell me?!”

His mouth opens, but no words come out. He braces himself, overwhelmed by your emotion, by you.

“Why?” you choke out. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you just tell me the truth? If you had done just that, I would’ve... I would've...” Your voice breaks, and the rest falls into a sob.

His heart cracks with yours. He wants to hold you. God, he wants to. But he can't. He shouldn't. He clenches his fists at his sides, trying to stay strong, trying to understand what caused your emotions to flare like this. “Please don’t cry—”

“And whose fault is that, you idiot?!” you shout with no bite in your voice, only shivers. “You told me you loved me, and then you just assumed everything on your own. You didn’t even look me in the eyes. And then you drove me home without saying anything, told me we needed some space when all I wanted to do was to talk it out with you. Do you understand how you make me feel right now?”

He’s speechless. Your words hit like thunder, like truth. “I… didn’t think you’d want to talk to me after that,” he admits, his eyes downcast. “I assumed you felt awkward.”

“Yes, it was awkward! Of course it was!” you cry out. “It feels suffocating just to be with you right now but I don’t want it to end like this. I don’t want you to act cold or pretend like nothing happened. And I don't want you to look at me like that. Like you're breaking apart and you won't let me in, you won't let me help, and I—” You whimper. "I don't want to make you feel sad... And I don’t want you to avoid me..."

He exhales sharply, jaw clenched. “I don’t want to avoid you either, I just… I didn’t think you’d be this upset. I thought you hated knowing how I feel about you.”

“Why the hell would I hate knowing that you’re in love with me?”

He looks at you then, and the look in his eyes is almost unbearable. “Because you don’t love me back. You see me as a friend. As a brother. You don’t see me the way I see you.”

Your lip quivers. Your chest feels like it’s going to shatter from the pressure. “Idiot,” you whisper. Then you start pounding your fists against his chest again. “You’re such an idiot, Oppa!”

He lets you shove him. Lets you push him until his back hits the side of the car with a soft thud. He doesn’t resist—he just takes it. Takes every ounce of your anger and frustration, every fist pounding against his chest. His eyes never leave your face. They stay locked on your expression, your trembling lips, the tears slipping down your cheeks.

It hurts. Every strike is a dagger, not because of your strength, but the emotions you put in every pound. But Jinwoo doesn’t raise a hand to stop you. He accepts it all, as if your pain is the only thing anchoring him to this moment. And somehow, beneath the ache, he feels relief. Because you’re not indifferent. You're feeling—burning. And maybe, just maybe, that means there’s still something left between you.

Each word you throw at him, every tear, every blow, it sparks something reckless inside him. Hope.

He welcomes the pain, drinks it in. Needs it. It’s proof that you still feel something. He wants to believe that behind all the fury and heartbreak, there’s still a corner of your heart that beats for him.

So he stays still and takes it.

Because if there’s even a sliver of affection, no matter how small, it’s enough. He clings to it—your words, your tears, your touch. He needs to believe he doesn’t have to let go of you. Not yet.

He can’t stop himself, he can’t stop the flood of affection and love for you that’s rising up in his chest. His hand cups your face, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, his touch gentle and tender. He’s holding you as if you’re going to disappear if he isn’t in complete physical contact with you. His expression is soft, gentle, filled with tender emotion, while his eyes show the pain he’s in, the pain he feels in his chest.

He pulls you in, cradling you against his chest. He wraps his arms around you tightly, like you’re a lifeline, like he’s holding his world together by sheer force of will. His face buries into your hair, breathing you in. You soothe him, even in the middle of the storm.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers, voice thick with emotion. His heart hammers in his chest as he holds you. This moment, fragile and fleeting, feels like a miracle. “I’m so sorry…”

“For what..?” you sob, burying your face in his chest.

“For everything,” he chokes. “For loving you in silence. For keeping it all in. For making you cry. For making you angry. I’m sorry for all of it.”

You don’t answer at first. You just hold him tighter, your own emotions unraveling, too raw to speak.

He holds you like you might slip away if he loosens his grip. Your warmth is a balm, your presence a blessing. He tightens his hold. His heart is a mess, barely stitched together.

Then you whisper, voice quivering, “Oppa… Can I be... completely honest with you for a second?”

His breath catches. He nods slowly, head still resting against yours, every nerve attuned to you.

“I… When you told me you loved me… I didn’t hate it. I felt—happy.”

He freezes. His heart stutters, then races. He tries to stay calm, tries to tether himself, but your words crash over him like a wave. “What… what do you mean?”

You lean back, just enough to look into his eyes. “A part of me, a huge part of me felt like I was the luckiest girl in the world to have a man like you say those things to me. I felt grateful. And I felt so happy, and there’s… a side of me that wants to say it back. To tell you I love you, to let you know that there’s always been a part of me who sees you as something more than a friend. But we’ve been friends for years, and all this time, you never told me anything, never showed that you’d want us to be more than friends. So I shut it down, and I taught myself to move on, to find someone else. And I found Kihoon. Even though he doesn’t feel the same way about me, half of my heart still beats for him. The same way the other half did for you when you told me you loved me.”

His heart lurches. Her words both uplift and devastate. To know that you felt something—anything—for him in the past, ignites a radiant spark of hope. But Kihoon… the name lands like a stone in his chest.

Still, he swallows the pain. He doesn't let it consume him. He doesn't beg. He just breathes, slow and steady.

His hands lift again, cupping your face with devotion in each fingertips. “You say part of you loves me… Then why not give me that part?”

Your voice breaks. “Because I don’t want to give you a part of it—I want to give you everything. But I can’t, not right now. I don’t want to sound shallow, and I don’t want you to start doubting my feelings later on. I don’t want you to think that the reason why I accept your feelings is because I can’t be with Kihoon. I don’t want to make you feel like I’m settling for second best, or worse, because I feel sorry for you. If I gave you my heart—when I give you my heart, I want you to believe that you own it. Completely.”

He feels the breath catch in his throat at your words. He wants you. All of you. But that honesty—that clarity—is exactly why he loves you.

He nods, eyes glistening. “I know. I know you’re right.” His voice shakes. He presses his forehead to yours, trying to ground himself. “But… it’s so hard to be patient.”

You almost give in, just from the way he’s begging silently with his eyes. “I don’t want you to doubt my feelings,” you repeat softly.

“I don’t,” he breathes. “I’ll never doubt your feelings, but if you want to wait then... I will. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

The words are a vow, whispered through lips trembling with restraint. He wants to kiss you—God, he wants it more than anything. But he stays still. Barely holding on.

He opens his eyes, gazing at you beneath heavy lashes. You’re so close. One small move, and his lips would brush yours.

You swallow, your breathing turns heavy. You can feel his gaze cascading to your lips. “I just… need time to sort out my feelings…”

He’s burning inside. The need to hold you, to taste you, it roars inside him like wildfire. But he doesn’t move. “How long…” he murmurs, barely audible. “How long do I have to wait?”

The pain in your face breaks him. “I’m not sure.” In a moment of weakness, of surrender, your eyes flicker to his lips, too. “I need to forget about Kihoon and… focus on my feelings for you.”

He catches your drifting gaze and his heart slams against his ribs.

Your fingers clutch his shirt tighter, anchoring yourself to him. And that small gesture—so intimate, so telling—sets him ablaze.

You’re looking at his mouth, breath shallow. You want him, too. He can feel it. It’s driving him mad.

He leans in, just enough that your noses brush. His breath dances across your lips.

"Please..." Jinwoo whispers, barely knowing what he’s asking. It’s a prayer, a plea for something he can’t even name. A kiss. Your heart. A promise.

He’s barely holding it together, his breath is coming in short pants. “You should... push me away...”

“I know…” You murmur back, your eyes tracing his lips, still.

His eyes are locked onto your face, his head tilted to hover over yours. You’re so close he can almost feel your breath against his skin. This is torture, this is pure torture. “Then why don’t you…?”

“I don’t know…” Your voice trembles, your strength ebbing as you clutch him tighter.

He sees the moment you stop fighting. The moment you lean into him, soft and yielding.

And he almost breaks.

But even now, even in the center of the storm, he waits. He won’t take what you’re not ready to give. He can’t. Not like this.

He breathes you in, dizzy with want. Still, he waits.

“Can I…” He starts, shivers in his voice. “Can I be completely honest with you for a second?”

You nod slowly, eyes half-lidded, lost in him. “Yes…”

He wets his lips, eyes flicking down to your mouth for just a moment—barely a heartbeat—but it’s enough. He’s trying to focus. Trying so damn hard. Because if he doesn’t, he knows he’ll lose control. And he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on.

“I’ve… I’ve dreamed about this,” Jinwoo breathes, voice low and close—so close that if you leaned in even a fraction, you'll taste the vibration on your lips.

“About… what?” you whisper, barely audible.

“You and me,” he murmurs, the words slipping into the silence between you like a secret. His gaze drops again, hungry and haunted. “I’ve dreamed about kissing you for so long.”

You lick your lips, and his eyes track the movement like he’s memorizing it. “You… you have…?”

He exhales, shaky and raw, the sound more confession than breath. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about it. About holding you… kissing you… tasting you.”

He’s trembling with restraint, every muscle taut, breath hot against your skin. But still—still—he doesn’t close the gap.

“Can I…?” he asks, voice rough, frayed with need. “Can I kiss you?”

It’s a plea. A prayer. He’s hanging on by a thread, and your answer is the only thing holding him back.

You know you should say no. You made him promise to wait. And you made the same promise to yourself—to let go of Kihoon before giving your heart to someone else. But in this moment, that promise cracks.

Because when his thumb brushes your bottom lip, tugging it down with the gentlest touch, your resolve slips.

He’s so close. You can taste him in the air.

“Ye—”

You don’t get the word out.

His lips crash against yours.

One hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. The other wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His kiss is desperate—starved. He pours years of longing, pain, and buried passion into it, kissing you like he’s trying to reclaim time itself.

Jinwoo deepens the kiss, pressing closer, tasting you like he’s been parched. He doesn’t want to stop. He can’t.

A soft whimper escapes you, and something in him snaps. He lifts you effortlessly, pinning you against the car, his hips pressing between your legs. His tongue finds yours, the kiss turning urgent, demanding—devouring.

He only pulls back when the need for air forces him to, gasping, breath ragged. But even then, he doesn’t stray far. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth and nips—gently, but possessively.

You break apart, panting, your chest rising and falling against his. You don’t move far, your legs shaking as you return to the ground. Your foreheads almost touch, the air between you charged, crackling with the weight of everything unsaid.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his voice rough with emotion. “Sorry… I got a little carried away...”

You shake your head, still breathless. “It’s… it’s okay...”

He closes his eyes, trying to collect himself. That kiss—you—are more than he ever let himself imagine. Every fantasy pales in comparison to this.

“You should go,” he murmurs, resting his forehead lightly against yours. “It’s getting late. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You hesitate. “Promise you won’t avoid me?”

He opens his eyes, smiling softly. “I promise," he carves the word with his lips, pressing them right against your temple.

He steps back, like it physically hurts to create that space, hands clenched as if to keep from reaching for you again. He watches you slowly move toward the entrance door of your building, gaze drinking in every detail of you like he’s trying to etch the moment into memory.

Then, just before you slip inside, he calls out. “Wait.”

You turn, heart pounding. “Y-yes?”

He stuffs his hands into the pockets, trying to look composed. Steady. But his voice wavers. “Can I be completely honest with you for a second?”

You give a nervous little laugh. “Sure.”

He watches you for a beat too long, garnering all the feelings he holds for you, trying to find a way to place them into sentences. He draws a breath.

“I love you,” he says, followed by your name, softly, but with unshakable clarity. “I love you more than anything. I love you more than I think I could. And I know I will always love you even if you don't love me back. So stop looking at me like I’m just a friend… or an older brother. Start looking at me like a man. A man who wants you, who needs you. I’ll be waiting. No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here, waiting for you to come back to me.”

You stiffen, face flushed, lips parted—but no words come. It’s just… impossible to say anything when he speaks so sincerely, when he gazes at you so fondly, when he loves you so ardently.

Jinwoo smiles again, gentler now, relieved that he’s spoken everything he’d been bottling up for so long. “Good night.”

“G-good night,” you whisper back, as it is all you can manage.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He tosses you one last gaze, one full of longing, before he slips inside his car and drives off.

You stand there, your face heating up, your mind spinning, your world suddenly tilted on its axis. There’s only one name swirling inside your brain, and it doesn’t belong to the same man who broke your heart earlier today. It belongs to the man who mended it. Who took care of it, then shattered it, healed it, burned it, and kissed it with so much passion, it left your nerves tingling long after he’s gone.

Tomorrow….

What's going to happen tomorrow?

***

A/N: I don't know how to end this and i've dragged it too long lsadfskdflsd I SWEAR I WANTED IT TO BE JUST A DRABBLE IDK WHAT HAPPENED

ANYWAY I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT BYE I'M RUNNING

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thegreatimpersonator · 4 months ago

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Heeey, if u dont wanna answer this that's fine! But just wondering what's Travis done? (Im not a fan or anything lol, legit curious). Now that i think about it, i think he's irl friends (like, outside of work) with that mahommes guy whose brother... well, trigerring topic but ye his brother's a piece of shit and that guy's wife im pretty sure defended the brother + is a trumpie💀. But i dont follow them/usamerican football so ive just heard about these things casually. I think there were also some weird tweets from years back? Guess i answered my own question lol. Wild the kcc also have that "women should stay home" at a uni graduation speech guy...

welcome to the materpost.

im making this so i can always have something to refer back to when people ask, and this isnt gonna include personal opinions as facts (like how i just find him very attention-seeking and annoying, that's just personal opinion) but it will cover all the main terrible things he's done as well as the bad stuff people he (and now taylor) voluntarily choose to associate with.

don't know where to begin so i'll just start from where i remember

people found his old tweets where he was ableist (making fun of autism and saying the r slur), fatphobic towards women, misogynistic and homophobic.

him along with the chiefs decided to visit trump at the white house in 2020, after many teams declined bc they didnt want to publicly associate with a fascist, but travis was down!

he then also got caught liking an instagram post about trump

he has said recently he would be going to visit trump again in the white house if they win the superbowl.

when asked about how he felt about Trump going to the Super Bowl and playing in front of him, he said it was “pretty cool” and “an honor”.

he also made a r*pe joke, (first part in the clip) he was asked what word turned him on and he said when women say 'no' and then laughed and he was "kidding".

in the second part of that same clip in the previous bullet point, he's also xenophobic! on a podcast he said "if you dont speak english, then what are you doing here (in america)" and then proceeded to laugh when the host says he tells them the wrong directions on purpose.

he also 'jokingly' (no one laughed) called women "breeders" when discussing what women he was interested in.

he, alongside the chiefs, stood in solidarity with Israel by doing a ‘moment of silence’ before a game. i know people are gonna try and find excuses for him by saying ‘he was just doing what his team did, what was he supposed to do, etc’ nonsense, but that implies he was forced and had no choice; which he did. he also could have spoken up about the genocide/palestine afterwards but he stood in solidarity with Israel and has silent ever since.

he has a history of violent temper tantrums, and no him being a football player isnt an excuse. men using violence to get through their emotions isnt something to be normalized. he has had multiple instances of extreme aggression, including a screaming match with his couch at last years Superbowl, screamed at a ref and threw his helmet, also punching his own teammate during practice, and punching opposing players during games.

he's best friends with machine gun kelly, they grew up together and have remained close to this day. MGK has been openly racist, misogynistic, has said he sees nothing wrong with sleeping with minors, etc.

he defended his teammate, harrison butker (who was the guy who gave the viral problematic commencement speech, saying "women should be most excited about their marriage and the children they will bring into this world" and "things like abortion, IVF, surrogacy, euthanasia, as well as a growing support for degenerate cultural values and media all stem from pervasiveness of disorder,” and called Pride Month “the deadly sin sort of pride,” and specifically criticized the LGBTQ community, which he claimed promotes “dangerous gender ideologies.").... anyway travis defended THAT guy, saying he cherishes him as a teammate and said "he is every bit of a great person and a great teammate." and said harrison treats everyone with "nothing but respect and kindness, we’re not always going to agree … but I understand the person that he is and he’s trying to do whatever he can to lead people in the right direction." Travis then said 'everyone has different opinions and that's what's great about this country'. he flat out said hating gay people and women are what make this country great.

travis is also besties with known racist, morgan wallen (who got caught saying the n word, promised to donate money to charities fighting for racial justice and then just didnt), and joined him on stage last august. oh and travis was also wearing a harrison butker jersey during the concert... supporting him once again, just 3 months after his bigoted speech.

travis is also besties with the mahomes, now lets talk about him and taylors new besties they voluntarily love spending time with.

the main issue isnt really patrick mahomes (another player on the chiefs), it's brittany (his wife) and jackson (his brother)

jackson sexually assaulted a woman at a restaurant by grabbing her and forcibly kissing her. she reported the assault and he reportedly tried to bribe her into shutting up, but then she faced such harassment from his fans that the restaurant shut down and the case was dismissed despite video evidence of it happening.

brittany defended jackson and became a vocal assault apologist by saying "he is a human just trying to live his life and find his way and until you walk a day in his shoes (which no one ever will) you have no right to say shit about him".

last summer, brittany got called out for liking a post by trump where he outlined his plans for being president in 2025, including starting the largest deportation operation in history, zionist propaganda, and transphobic rhetoric about not wanting trans women in women's sports. she then defended it and doubled down vocalizing her supprt for trump.

brittany being transphobic about not wanting trans women in women's sports is deeply concerning due to the fact she is the co-owner of Kansas City Current, a team in the American professional top-division National Women's Soccer League.

#answered #anonymous #tw assault #travis kelce #brittany mahomes #jackson mahomes

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shadowkoo · 1 month ago

Text

Very Bad Behavior

→ Summary: Tall, dark, and dangerous. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. They say bad things come in threes, and you’ve spent your entire life steering clear of every troublesome temptation. But when a familiar stranger catches your eye one night at work, resisting suddenly feels impossible. You might just start to wonder how bad can indulging in a little bad behavior really be? Especially when it feels so good…

↠ seokjin x f.reader | 6.9k words | 18+ ↠ genre: rockstar au, one night stand, famous guitarist!seokjin x oblivious/non-fan bartender!reader, smut, strangers to lovers

→ Warnings: explicit sex, protected sex, rough sex, strong language, drug usage, alcohol consumption, praise kink, hair pulling, biting, mutual masturbation, manhandling, nipple play, breast play, begging, dirty talk, heavy teasing, spanking, multiple orgasms, grinding, exhibitionism, doggy, deep dicking, size kink, Seokjin is (rightfully) cocky about his huge dong, belly bulge, getting off from the vibrations created by jin’s motorcycle 👀, cocky dom!seokjin, oh and i almost forgot… jin’s got a magic cross dick piercing 😈

→ Networks: @ksmutsociety @k-vanity @keopihaus @lapydiaries @bangtanwritershq

→ Author Note: This is long overdue (me and collab deadlines don’t have the best relationship lol), here’s my part of the Can’t Be Tamed collab hosted by Sav @jeonjcngkook. Also a big thank you to Ley @pars-ley for beta reading this for me, I adore you!!!! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3 divider credit

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˙⟡˙ the new insane — counterfeit ˙⟡˙ what do you want from me? — bad omens ˙⟡˙ antimatter — silent planet ˙⟡˙ (pls) set me on fire — enter shikari ˙⟡˙ code mistake — corpse x bring me the horizon ˙⟡˙ bang bang — revnoir ˙⟡˙ instead — xdinary heroes, yoon do hyun ˙⟡˙ apathy — windwaker ˙⟡˙ die mf die — dope ˙⟡˙ self sacrifice — wage war ˙⟡˙

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“What can I get you?” you holler over your shoulder to the new body sitting on an open stool. Quickly stuffing the cash into the register, you turn around with your usual customer-service smile and hand the remaining change to the couple as they gather their things, preparing to leave.

It’s been busy all day, with waves of customers coming and going, but now you’re in that brief lull after the dinner rush, just before the night crowd starts to fill the room. With the peak of the summer season in full swing, business has been non-stop. And tonight should be even more hectic as it’s Friday night.

Walking toward the new guy waiting, you look him over while trying to get a good read. You first notice his glazed-over and slightly red eyes, a trait you easily recognize as a bartender at a popular downtown dive bar. He has a half-smoked blunt hanging between his fingers, somehow making himself look even more attractive.

Next, your vision trails along the black ink covering his tanned skin; a lightning bolt at the corner of his right eye, Fearless scribbled below his left, and a large piece with skulls and roses took up most of the space on his neck. And even though he’s wearing a leather jacket, it’s not hard to guess that his arms and other places are most likely covered by tattoos too.

“Surprise me, gorgeous,” he says, leaning forward with a dangerous smile.

Rolling your eyes at the overused line, you reach for the ingredients you need to mix something this pretentious guy would never order for himself. You do your best to hide your smirk as you grab the bottle of peach schnapps from the sea of other liquors and the orange juice from the cooler near your waist.

His gaze wanders from your curvaceous backside to what you’re making. “Ah, Sex on a Beach,” he notes, as you hand over the cherry-colored drink, with the umbrella and all. “My favorite.” His sparkling eyes lock with yours when your hands touch during the exchange.

“Really? Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Well, that’s fair. Would it be more believable if I said I’m usually more of a Jack and Coke guy?”

“Oh wow, now that is surprising,” you tease. “Who would’ve guessed?”

“Alright, what’s your go-to then? What do you recommend?”

You lean against the counter, pretending to ponder deeply, “I would have to say peanut butter flavored whiskey has my attention at the moment.”

“Fuck that,” he says with another grin that shows off his perfectly white teeth.

Who is this man, and why is he such a stunner?!

“You can’t be serious?”

A smirk grows on your lips as you grab two shot glasses and the bottle of Skrewball. You fill them without looking, a fun bartender trick of yours, keeping your eyes locked onto his. You pass one to him, keeping the other for yourself and lifting it to cheers, “Bottoms up.”

He lets out a sigh, “Here goes nothin’...” His face immediately twists up in disgust, and he sputters after swallowing. “Oh my god,” he clears his throat. “That has to be the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure nastier things have found their way between your lips,” you joke, laughing while he finishes the glass of water you also set out for him.

“You have no idea…” he says, playing along.

“So, what brings you to town?” And more importantly, how long are you here for?

“Ah, I’m just here for the weekend with my buddies,” he smiles, before taking a sip of his sex on the beach.

The front door opening interrupts your conversation, and a group of college-aged guys walk in, who immediately wave you down to get their drinks.

“Hold that thought,” you say, eyes drifting back to the door as it opens again for the next group that struts in and joins the guys who are now whistling for your attention. “I’ll be right back, gotta take care of these assholes.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. When I need another I’ll just whistle for ya.” He smirks, and your insides heat up while you walk away. You don’t know him, but you like him.

Unfortunately, that lovely group kept you busier than you would have liked. By the time you can satisfy them and the girls whose drinks they also bought, the handsome stranger is long gone.

All that remains is an empty glass sitting on top of a napkin with the words, “Thanks for the chat and the amazing sex (on the beach), See you around!” scribbled along with a crisp hundred-dollar bill.

You wonder if you'll ever see him again. The odds are slim, and you try not to let that sting.

The rest of the night flies by, and before you know it, it’s approaching 3 a.m. Much to no one's surprise, you’ve made your entire month’s rent in tips tonight, which is why you love working closing shifts when everyone else would prefer to already be home and in bed.

Bartending is typically an easy job if you like being social. Drunk men are easy to flirt with and the money flows if you can bullshit with them for long enough.

“Have a good night, guys,” you say, waving goodbye to Jenny, the other bartender working with you tonight, and her boyfriend Dino, who also happens to be the bar’s bouncer.

They wave back and say goodnight before turning to walk home together, leaving you to finish locking up.

Your loud yawn is hidden by the low rumbles of a nearby motorcycle, and the exhaustion of the busy night finally hits you. Dropping your keys into your purse, you turn in the opposite direction to head home.

“Calling it a night this early?” a familiar voice says from the darkness surrounding you. You freeze in place, trying to make out the shadowed figure.

“Oh,” you say in relief, after taking a couple of steps closer and seeing the hot guy from earlier. “It's you.”

“I was wondering when you’d get off,” he says, his smooth voice making your skin shiver.

“Aww, have you been waiting this whole time?” you ask, a slight tease in your tone.

He leans casually against his bike, the city lights flickering in his eyes. “Nah, I met up with my friends for a bit. Then realized I forgot to give you something.”

You tilt your head, with a playful smirk on your lips. “Let me guess, your number? Or your name?” Heat curls in your stomach; either one would be a win.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his gaze trailing over you like a slow caress. “But you gotta work for it.” He swings a leg over his motorcycle and taps the empty space in front of him. “Sit.”

You raise a brow but obey, straddling the bike backward so you're facing him. It’s not like you’re going for a ride, so what does it matter? He doesn’t complain about your positioning. His hands quickly find your thighs, his thumbs tracing slow, intoxicating circles into your skin.

“So…” you exhale, pulse quickening under his touch. “What did you forget?”

His smile turns cocky, and without warning he leans in, his lips a breath away from yours.

“This,” he whispers before kissing you. He claims your mouth with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt and certainly no space for air. His hands tighten on your thighs, pulling you closer until there’s nothing between you.

You can’t believe this is happening, you’re practically straddling a hot stranger’s lap, tangled in a very heated kiss. Even the cool night air does nothing to tame the fire licking at your skin.

Threading your fingers through his thick hair, you tug just enough to draw a low groan from him. Your hips shift instinctively, and the moment you do, a gasp slips from your lips. The deep purr of the motorcycle beneath you vibrates through every inch of your body, teasing that sensitive bundle of nerves through your jean shorts.

He pulls back just enough to smirk, his breath hot against your lips. “Does that feel good, gorgeous?” His voice is low, dripping with sin. “Are you a needy little whore who just has to get off?”

Before you can respond, his strong hand presses against your lower back, guiding you down against the hard metal of his bike. The vibrations intensify, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Grind those hips, baby,” he purrs, his other hand still gripping your thigh. “Show me how needy you are.”

A whimper escapes you as your hips obey, moving with desperate friction, chasing that delicious edge. He leans in, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers filth that only makes the ache worse.

“You’re such a pretty little whore,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “But I think you need to show a little more skin for me.”

He tugs down the scoop neckline of your shirt, exposing the delicate lace of your bra. His eyes darken, admiration flickering in them as he takes in the sight of you.

He leans in, his warm breath ghosting over the fabric before he presses his mouth against it. Leaving a teasing kiss, then another. His tongue traces over the lace, dampening it, before he tugs it down, both layers of fabric pushing your breasts up enticingly. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, and he grins devilishly as he watches them bounce in time with your desperate movements.

Without warning, his lips latch onto the soft peak of your flesh, sucking greedily before biting down just enough to make you gasp. The sharp pleasure sends another jolt of heat pooling low in your stomach. He moves to the other nipple, his tongue teasing you and savoring this moment.

He doesn’t need to hear you say that you’re close; he can feel it in the way your hips stutter against his bike. Your movements growing erratic, more desperate.

He groans against your skin, voice thick with satisfaction. “Come undone for me,” he commands, his grip tightening. His voice is possessive and downright dangerous. “Right now.”

Your body shatters, pleasure ripping through you in the form of an uncontrollable moan spilling from your lips. He holds you close, his lips brushing against your temple as he chuckles, satisfied.

“Good girl,” he murmurs smugly, his voice laced with approval. “That’s it.” He pulls your bra and shirt back up, covering your exposed skin just before a car drives by.

You’re still catching your breath, pulse hammering, when reality crashes back in. “Oh my god,” you whisper, pressing a hand to your face. “I cannot believe that just happened.”

He grins, tilting his head. “Oh, you better believe it, sweetheart.” He lets his fingers trail over your thigh before reaching into his leather jacket, pulling out a small envelope.

“Here.” He holds it out to you, his smirk sinful. “Save a little of that bad behavior for me tomorrow.”

You take the envelope, raising an eyebrow. “What is this?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Open it later and find out.”

You roll your eyes, but the teasing glint in your gaze betrays your curiosity. “Mysterious and cocky. Dangerous combo.”

“You’re into it,” he counters smoothly, reaching around your body and revving the engine beneath you. The vibrations send a wicked aftershock through your overstimulated body, making you shiver. His pleased smirk deepens. “Time to hop off, baby.”

You bite your lip, still breathless. “All that, and you’re still not going to tell me your name?”

He shakes his head, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “Show up tomorrow, and maybe I will.”

With one last lingering glance, you slide off his bike, your legs still unsteady as you head back to your car.

He watches you with that devilish smirk, like he already knows you’ll meet him damn near anywhere tomorrow. Just for a repeat of something similar to tonight.

And dammit, he’s probably right.

Everyone told Seokjin that bringing his motorcycle on tour was a bad idea.

It’ll take up too much space. It might get damaged. Some unhinged fan could steal it and sell it for a million dollars.

But none of those reasons had been enough to stop him. Especially when the pro list included making you come undone last night, riding the vibrations of his engine like a damn symphony.

That memory alone? Worth every logistical nightmare.

He smirks to himself, leaning against a wall backstage, eyes scanning the slowly filling venue. Doors had opened thirty minutes ago, and the first opener is about to hit the stage.

But so far…there’s no sign of the pretty brunette that he’s been unable to stop thinking about.

“There you are,” a deep voice says from behind.

Startled, Seokjin turns slightly to find Yoongi, one of the band’s other guitarists, watching him with mild amusement.

“Didn’t think you were the crowd-watching type,” Yoongi adds with a raised eyebrow, stepping beside him.

Seokjin shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Just scoping the energy.”

“Uh-huh. Seems like you’re looking for someone?”

Jin manages to dodge the question when Taehyung, their lead singer, bursts out of the dressing room with a parade of barely-dressed women behind him.

“Dude,” Taehyung groans dramatically, “Where’s the fucking booze? The dressing room’s already dry. Can you believe that shit?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Yoongi deadpans.

The two immediately fall into their usual back-and-forth, trading sarcastic barbs and wild theories about who drank the last bottle of whiskey. But Seokjin tunes them out.

His gaze is still locked on the crowd, his fingers tapping nervously against his thigh. You’d never confirmed that you were coming tonight, despite him counting on it.

Did you look up the band after opening that envelope? The one he slipped into your hands right before you walked away, while you were still flushed and a little breathless after your little exhibitionist act? The one containing a ticket to tonight’s sold out show, with an all-access pass that gets you the best view inside the barricade, plus allows you backstage.

He wonders if you pieced it together, if you made the connection about who he was.

You two hit it off instantly. It was far more than he ever expected when he stopped by that bar for a quick drink, barely an hour after their tour bus pulled into the venue lot. He’d debated it. Going out without security wasn’t exactly recommended, not with how massive their fanbase is. But it was still early enough in the night before it would be too busy, and surprisingly, no one recognized him.

Not even you. That was the most refreshing part.

You didn’t look at him like he was Seokjin, popular rhythm guitarist of Dark & Wild, the notoriously reckless band that had carved its name into rock history with more scandals than awards. You weren’t starry-eyed over the media headlines, the platinum records, or the chaos they left behind in every city.

You looked at him like he was just a man.

Not a musician, not a rockstar. Just a stranger with a sharp jaw, a dirty mouth, and a bike that made you blush.

You didn’t know he was in the middle of the Can’t Be Tamed world tour, one of the most anticipated events in music, already dubbed by critics as legendary, unfiltered, and unforgettable.

And that’s what made last night feel so real. It was raw and unscripted. Something he hasn’t had the pleasure of enjoying in quite some time.

Now, with adrenaline in the air and the crowd getting louder, he’s wondering if you'll stand out from the sea of faces. Or if you’ll remain hidden at the back of the crowd. He hopes you’ll use your advantage and be right up front. Right below his spot on stage, so he can tower over your pretty frame and show off.

God, he really hopes that’s the case.

As the bass echoes off the walls and stage lights flash when the first band takes the stage, Seokjin can’t help but wonder if last night was the last time he’ll ever see you?

With a quiet sigh, he turns away from the crowd and heads back to the dressing room to finish putting on his makeup and stage outfit. Still, his mind keeps drifting back to you.

His lips curl into a smirk at the memory of your face last night. How gorgeous you looked as you came undone in front of him, bold and unfiltered, grinding against the vibrations of his bike like you had nothing to prove. Damn, you were daring. Something refreshing that he found sexy as hell.

Jin chuckles under his breath, the memory fading as another wave of uninteresting women spills into the room with the company of his other bandmates.

A concert ticket… and an all-access pass? Is this what he’s in town for?

You turn the items over in your hands, reading the details printed in bold ink. Dark & Wild – Can’t Be Tamed World Tour. Your eyes widen slightly. That’s tonight.

You bite your lip, thinking it over.

Dark & Wild. Is that his favorite band? It would make sense, he definitely looks like the type who enjoys heavy guitar riffs and screaming fans. And he did mention he was only in town for the weekend.

But how the hell did he manage to score tickets? You remember hearing on the radio at work that the concert had completely sold out weeks ago.

Maybe he works for the band? A roadie, perhaps? He did have that confident, edgy energy. Like someone who thrives in the chaos of tour life, all the late nights and loud music.

Whatever his connection is, it doesn’t really matter. You’re just excited to see him again for your date tonight. Sure, it was technically just an invitation…but in your head, it counts as a date. And the butterflies in your stomach haven’t stopped fluttering since you opened the envelope earlier.

You can’t even remember the last time you were this excited for something. It’s been forever since a guy made your heart race. And, if you’re being honest, even longer since someone made you come like that.

So yeah, you’re definitely going.

You even decide to dress up more than you normally would for a concert. Not that you like to try hard, but hey, you’ve got someone to impress. Slipping into a black mini skirt that hugs your hips just right, you pair it with a black and white leopard print corset that cinches your waist and shows just enough cleavage to tempt. Then come the knee-high red leather boots that make your legs look a mile long and are impossible to ignore.

You twist your dark hair up into a messy-but-intentional style, securing it with a sharp chrome hair clip that glints under the light. With a swipe of eyeliner and a touch of red lipstick, you take one last glance in the mirror. Perfect timing, because your phone buzzes soon after.

Grabbing your purse, you sigh in an attempt to calm the nerves glittering beneath the surface as your Uber pulls up. The ride is short, or perhaps your mind is just preoccupied with the possibilities of tonight.

After getting dropped off, your heart flutters with each step you make toward the venue doors. The closer you get, the more real it feels.

Once the staff member waves you through after scanning your ticket, your pulse quickens. You’re about to see him again. The mysterious stranger who took one ordinary night and turned it into something wild. You wonder if he’s already arrived, if he’s waiting for you. If his face will light up when you walk toward him.

An hour later, your excitement slowly starts to unravel. The second act is about to finish their set, and there’s still no sign of him. You’ve been scanning the crowd nonstop, but the faces blur together under pulsing lights and stage fog. Though you know you’d be able to sense him.

But he’s not here.

Your stomach knots a little tighter with each passing minute. Maybe he got caught up. Maybe he’s still on the way. Maybe he’s at the bar. Maybe–

You chew your bottom lip, clutching your purse a little tighter.

Maybe he changed his mind.

As a last resort, you make your way toward the security guards stationed at the far left side of the barricade, right by the emergency exit doors.

You’ve been quietly watching from afar as a couple of crew members flash their passes before slipping past security like it’s no big deal. You hadn’t wanted to go that route unless you had to. But now, with no sign of him in the crowd and your hope thinning by the minute, it feels like your only shot.

You hesitate; the idea of being so close to the stage makes you uneasy. Especially when you barely know anything about the headliners who are about to run out. You don’t want to look out of place, like someone who doesn’t belong.

Still, you have to do it. You internally groan as you approach the guards, trying to look casual as you hold out your pass. They barely glance at it before nodding and letting you through. You step past the barricade and find a spot that hugs the left side of the stage, doing your best to stay out of the spotlight.

This side of the barrier is mostly empty. A few photographers are positioned with heavy cameras and media badges dangling from their necks. Past them and off to the right, you spot a small group of women. Probably girlfriends, or maybe groupies, laughing amongst themselves, already at ease.

He’s not here either.

You scan again, just to be sure.

Still, there’s no sign of the handsome stranger.

You’re about to give up and leave, heavy disappointment beginning to settle in. Of all the people to get stood up by, it had to be someone who was really nice, actually funny, and insanely attractive.

Boy, do you know how to pick them.

Just when you’re ready to call it a night, you catch yourself and halt your mood from worsening. Fuck it. Why should you miss out on the show? It’s free, after all. Now that the popular band is about to take the stage, you might as well stay and enjoy the music. It sure as hell beats going home to another lonely evening.

Suddenly, the stage lights dim, and the crowd roars as members start stepping into their places. As the intro of their first song begins, the lights flash back on and the screaming intensifies. That’s when your heart does a little flip, as your eyes fall on him.

Wait.

Holy shit.

It takes a moment for it to sink in, but when it does, you inhale rapidly. Your stranger isn’t a fan or roadie…he’s in the band.

His eyes lock onto yours across the stage, and you freeze, completely stunned by this new information. He smiles, pleased to see you, and then bam. That familiar smirk spreads across his face. He winks next, which makes your stomach flip as the barricade of fangirls behind you scream even louder.

What a fucking tease.

The roar of the crowd, the pounding beat of the drums, and the electrifying guitar riffs all hit you at once. You feel the vibrations from the amps in your chest. As they dive further into their set, something clicks, you actually know some of these songs; sometimes they’d play over the radio at the bar during your shifts. Catchy enough to hum along to, sure, but never quite playlist-worthy. At least, not until now.

Because hearing them live? It’s something else entirely. The sound wraps around you, enveloping you in heat and haze, and you don’t even try to fight it as the music pulls you under its spell.

Your motorcycle-riding, guitar-playing, dangerously handsome stranger moves across the stage like he owns it. Every step, every strum, is perfectly in sync with the rhythm. There’s a swagger to the way he plays, like he knows exactly how good he is. And how good he looks doing it.

Seokjin knows you’re watching him. He loves that your eyes trail him no matter where he moves on stage. He’s an entertainer, after all. He’s used to having thousands of women’s eyes on him. But tonight he only cares about yours.

He sneaks another glance at you.

You’ve let go completely, swaying your hips and dancing without a care. He smiles, he’s maybe even a little awestruck, as he takes in how much fun you’re having. He can’t help but stare like you’re the only person in the room.

And every time your gaze flicks back up to him, he’s already looking.

You lock eyes again and again, holding each other’s stare until he breaks it to look out over the crowd or exchange a nod with another band member. The smoldering glances you share make your stomach do flips and your knees feel a little weaker than you'd like to admit.

You came to this show expecting just to see him. Now you’re not sure how the hell you’re supposed to walk away without wanting more. Without needing to know what it would be like to have one night with him.

Last night was just the preview.

He and another member run off stage, prob to get a water or something, you don’t think anything of it because not even a minute later they're back on stage and starting the next song.

It’s a ballad, and you sway along to the romantic lyrics, when someone suddenly taps on your shoulder.

“Hey, Seokjin sent me down here. Do you have the pass he gave you?”

Seokjin. That’s his name.

You nod and lift it off your neck.

"Perfect. Once the band comes back out for their two encore songs, head over there,” he points toward the other end of the stage, “And show your pass to the security by the stairs. They’ll let you through so you can watch from side stage until the set's over."

Jin can’t help the satisfied grin that spreads across his face the moment he spots you standing side stage, tucked behind a couple of crew members. The lighting casts a soft glow on your face, and for a second, the chaos of the show fades into the background.

He still can’t believe that you’re here.

The band powers through the final encore, leaving the crowd screaming for more as they belt out the last note. After one final strum, Jin tosses a few guitar picks into the sea of fans, flashing a wink to the front row before stepping off stage, adrenaline still buzzing through his veins.

He heads toward you, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair, only stopping when the rest of the guys crowd around him. Peering over their shoulders, he catches your eye and waves you over.

"Come here, I want you to meet everyone," he says, without any hesitation. He gestures to the group of men, each in various states of post-show chaos, shirtless, sweaty, all grinning. “This is Yoongi and Jimin, our other guitarists. Joon plays bass. Hobi and Tae are our lead vocalists—”

“And that,” a new, cockier voice says, cuting off Jin, “Leaves the best for last.”

A tall, inked-up guy with loose dark curls and a smirk that screams trouble steps forward. He extends a hand toward you, “I’m Jungkook. I slam the shit out of the drums…among other things.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Jin rolls his eyes so hard it’s almost audible. Jungkook enjoys riling him up, especially in front of a gorgeous girl. His grin only widens when Seokjin shoots him a warning look.

“Don’t mind him,” Jin mutters under his breath, his hand grazing your lower back possessively. “He’s still trying to figure out how to flirt without being a menace.”

You laugh when Jungkook winks at you. “What can I say? I’m a crowd favorite.”

Jin snorts. “Sure, dude.”

The guys chuckle before greeting the other women who walk up to the group. But Jin lingers beside you, eyes never quite leaving your face.

“You looked good out there,” you say, still buzzing from the show.

He smirks. “You looked better.”

“You guys ready to party?” Jimin hollers, already halfway toward the exit with a couple of girls on his arms.

Jin doesn’t answer right away. His hand slides lower, fingers brushing over the bare sliver of skin between your corset top and your skirt. The light touch sends a trail of goosebumps up your spine.

“We’ll meet you there,” he finally says, not breaking eye contact with you.

He hadn’t fully registered what you were wearing earlier. He’d been so caught up in the fact that you were here, he missed the finer details. Now he’s taking in every inch of you; the curve of your hips, the way your corset hugs your curves, especially the flash of thigh above those red boots.

And all he can think about is how badly he wants enjoy you.

Jimin catches the look on Jin’s face and raises an eyebrow knowingly, but he doesn’t say a word. Just smirks, wraps his arms around two women like the rockstar he is, and calls out, “Alright ladies, let’s get the fuck outta here.”

He disappears, leaving you and Jin in your little bubble while the crew begins to pack up around you.

“Come on,” Jin murmurs, leaning closer to your ear, his hand still on your back, “I want you all to myself for just a little longer.”

He pulls you into the dressing room, the door slamming shut behind you before he swiftly locks it. In the next second, your back hits the door with a soft thud, his body pressed against yours.

“So…Seokjin,” you tease, lips curling into a wicked little smile. “Any other secrets you’re keeping from me?”

He chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leans in. “Mmm, no secrets,” he murmurs, eyes dark with need. “But say my name again.”

You obey, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Seokjin.”

He groans softly, like the sound of his name on your lips is something filthy and divine all at once. “Shit, baby. It sounds so good coming from you.”

His hands roam your waist, gripping the curve of your hips like he’s already imagining what they’ll feel like wrapped around him.

“Now that you know who I am,” he breathes, brushing his lips along your jaw, “You understand this can only be a one-time thing.”

You meet his eyes, unbothered by that fact, and your breath hitches as his fingers play with the hemline of your miniskirt.

“So fucking worth it,” you whisper, before crashing your mouth against his, your hands tangling in his hair.

It’s all heat and hunger, there’s no hesitation between either of you.

He presses you harder into the door, pinning you between the solid wood and his firm body. Without warning, he lifts you, and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist.

Jin’s mouth is everywhere; your neck, your collarbone, the soft swell of your chest. His hands slide over the curve of your ass, kneading possessively, before one dips lower. His fingers curl inward, teasing your aching core through the thin fabric of your panties.

You gasp against his lips, moaning softly as his fingers graze right where you need him the most. But just as you start to roll your hips into his hand, he pulls away.

The sound of your whimper is swallowed by his deep groan as he grinds his hips into you. The thick, hard length of him presses right against your center, and you swear your body trembles at the contact.

“Oh my god,” you mewl, head falling back as you feel just how big he is, even through layers of clothing. Your body clenches in anticipation.

“I can’t wait to sink into you,” he growls against your throat, his voice deliciously rough. “You ready for me, baby? Think you can handle all of me?”

He thrusts his hips again, making your breath hitch.

“I bet you can’t wait for me to split you open,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “Stretch you so fucking wide, you’ll feel me for days. Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Seokjin, please,” you beg shamelessly.

That’s all he needs to hear.

He turns, carrying you across the room like you weigh nothing, and tosses you down onto the leather sofa. You land with a bounce, your heart pounding and thighs clenching.

He stands over you for a second, his dark eyes raking over your body below, savoring the way you look spread out and desperate for him.

“Take off your panties,” he commands, “I want to watch.”

You don’t hesitate. Slipping your fingers beneath the fabric, you begin to slide the soaked lace down your thighs. They snag slightly on your boots, but he’s already kneeling to help, tugging them the rest of the way off with a growl of frustration and want.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, eyes darkening as he takes in the slick glistening between your thighs. “You’re already dripping for me.”

He rises and takes a few steps away, grabbing a condom from a torn-open box on the counter, clearly left out by someone else’s pre-show indulgences. But when he turns back around, what he sees nearly sends him to his knees.

You’ve leaned back into the couch, one arm propped behind you, the other between your thighs. Your legs are spread wide, shameless, your skirt hiked up around your waist as your fingers slowly circle your clit before slipping lower, dipping into your soaked entrance.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, hand moving to palm himself as you moan and bite your lip, teasing him with a second finger. Your eyes meet his, heavy with lust, and the raw hunger between you thickens.

He pulls his cock free from his pants, and your gaze drops instantly—only to widen at the shimmer of something silver catching the overhead light.

He strokes himself with the same speed as your fingers, letting you see every inch of what you’re about to take. The thick, veined length of him is beautiful, but it’s the four tiny silver beads at the crown of his cockhead, encircling his tip in a perfect ring of piercings, that leave you breathless.

Your core clenches around your fingers at the sight.

He sees your reaction and smirks, lazily making his way back toward you with that same infuriating, devastating confidence, and still pumping his cock as if he has all the time in the world.

“Curious?” he rasps, towering over you.

You nod, lips parted, breath shallow with anticipation.

He strokes the head of his cock once, collecting the bead of precum glistening at the tip. Without taking his eyes off yours, he brings his thumb down to your mouth.

“You’ll find out what they do soon enough,” he murmurs.

Your lips close around his thumb without hesitation, sucking softly. Tasting him, teasing him.

That last thread of Seokjin’s composure snaps. He swears under his breath, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he tears open the condom with his teeth before swiftly rolling it on over his thick, pierced length.

Then, without warning, he grabs your hips and slams into you in one devastating thrust.

The force rocks you back into the cushions, a sharp cry escaping your lips. If it weren’t for the vice grip he had on you, you might’ve been launched right off the damn couch.

“Fuck,” he growls, head falling forward for a moment as he adjusts to your tight, wet heat. “You feel better than I imagined.”

You’re breathless, body arching to take him deeper as the metal beads drag against your inner walls with every slow pull back, sending sparks shooting through your entire core.

Your hands clutch at the edge of the sofa, eyes rolling back as he thrusts hard again.

And just like that, you're ruined.

“You love how I split your pretty little pussy open, don’t you?” he growls against your neck, voice dark and possessive. “No one else is ever gonna compare to me. No one else is gonna fuck you like this. This deep, this hard.”

You let out a broken moan, your entire body trembling beneath him. Words are useless now, your brain is too foggy, too overloaded with pleasure to even form a sentence. All you can do is gasp and cling to him like your life depends on it.

“Look at how much of me you take,” he grunts, pulling back just enough to force your gaze downward.

The sight between your thighs is obscene. His thick, pierced cock driving into you over and over, glistening with your slick. You can see the slight swell in your lower belly every time he bottoms out, a bulge pressing up under your skin.

“Oh my god,” you whimper.

“I don’t even know how I fit,” he teases, panting now, a wild smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s like a goddamn magic trick, huh?”

Then he shifts, just a slight change in angle, but the second those cool metal beads drag across your sweet spot, everything inside you unravels.

Your body arches, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave. You clamp down around him, shaking, gasping, crying out his name as he fucks you through it.

“That’s it,” he growls, losing his rhythm just a little as you tighten around him. “That’s my good fucking girl.”

Before your body even has a chance to recover, he flips you over onto your hands and knees, your limbs still trembling from your last orgasm.

His grip is firm, one hand wrapped around your waist to steady your quivering body. You barely have time to brace yourself before you feel the sharp sting of his teeth sinking into the plush of your ass, followed by the loud crack of his palm slapping the other cheek.

“Fuck, look at that,” he groans, admiring the fresh red print blooming beneath his hand and the indents of his teeth on your skin. “You wear me so well.”

And then he’s sliding back in, fucking you from behind with bruising force. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes off the walls, mingling with your breathless moans and desperate cries of his name.

“Seokjin!” you scream, back arching as overwhelming pleasure rips through you.

He fists a handful of your hair and yanks your head back, hard. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp.

“Take it,” he snarls, his hips slamming into yours with punishing rhythm. “You love it rough like this, don’t you? Getting ruined like a fucking cock whore. Getting treated like the nasty girl you are.”

The pain and pleasure blur into one intoxicating haze as he brings his hand down on your ass again, another sharp spank that makes your legs shake and your core leak.

Just when you think you can't take any more, you feel his thumb press against your tightest hole, teasing as his cock drives into your soaked center. You whimper, your head dropping forward.

“Gonna fall apart for me again?” he pants behind you, voice strained with the effort of holding back.

You nod frantically, unable to speak, your walls already fluttering around him.

Then it hits you, your second orgasm tearing through your body, wave after wave of overwhelming ecstasy leaving you breathless and undone. Your vision goes hazy, your mouth falls open in a silent scream, and your entire body quakes under the weight of it.

You collapse forward, barely holding yourself up as your slick walls flutter wildly around him, clenching down like a vice.

“Jesus,” he grits out, his control unraveling in the heat of your orgasm. The way your body grips him, so fucking wet and perfect, drives him straight to the edge.

With a deep growl, he slams into you one final time, hips flush against your ass as he spills into the condom. Pulse after pulse of release torn from his body, as he holds you there, buried deep, his head thrown back as you milk every last drop from him with your trembling cunt.

You’re both breathless, your bodies slick with sweat and every nerve on fire from the intensity of it all.

For a moment, neither of you move, slowly coming down from something so fucking feral it barely feels real.

“So,” he says with a lazy grin, still catching his breath, “If I leave tickets for you next time we’re in town…you want a repeat?”

You stretch out beneath him, lips curling into a playful smirk. “Only if you promise to bring your motorcycle again.”

His eyes darken instantly, with a wicked glint. “Mmm, that’s a damn good idea.” He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Next time, I’m making you come twice before we even think about getting off that bike.”

You bite your lip, pulse quickening. “Sounds like a plan.”

He grins smugly. “Nah, baby…that sounds like a date.”

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idlerin · 11 months ago

Text

CAN I CALL YOU MINE?

celebrity!sakusa kiyoomi x f!reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

the ikarus incident (band au)

+ word count: 9.3k

content — you're the miya twins younger sister yes, essentially brothers bsf (thats if sakusa treats atsumu as a bff, tsumu says yes, still up for debate), in this au inarizaki is based in tokyo!, as usual can be read as a stand-alone despite it being part of a mini series :3, uhh light angst for now, reader has had a crush on sakusa since childhood, she has a fan acc dedicated to him and he knows abt it too lol. oh and four year age gap.

it seemed like everyone (well, mostly your brothers) was against the idea of you liking sakusa, even sakusa himself. although you'd do everything you can to reach him, impossible it may be.

“IKARUS’ SAKUSA KIYOOMI and Haiba Alisa dating rumors heat up after viral video claims evidence of lovestagrams,” you read out loud, eyebrows furrowing, “What the hell are lovestagrams?”

Despite knowing this was more than likely a case of false assumptions made by story-starved journalists, you continued to read the article trending in your circle.

Fans express a mixture of dread and joy for a potential romance between Haiba Alisa and Sakusa Kiyoomi as a trending tiktok video compiles ‘dating evidence’ of the pair’s relationship. The video meticulously pieces together videos and clips of the past three years of Haiba and Sakusa’s interactions that seem to hint at a deeper relationship between the model and the music artist. The account also pieces together instagram posts of the pair that insinuate that they were near or at the same place, sharing similar poses reminiscent of ‘lovestagrams’ shared by couples.

That was when you stopped reading. You clicked out of the tab to quote the tweet the article was attached to. Words such as ‘when has sakusa ever seemed like the type to plan an ig layout?’ and ‘isn’t it weird to say that two people are dating just because they looked at each other or breathed at the same place’ that you both deleted in place of saying ‘i’d be happy if this were true’—you would not—‘only if sakusa announces it. like he’s said so many times that if he were to ever be in a relationship he’d tell the media himself’. A couple of seconds pass before you get a notification.

leia @keijisrealgf · 1m Replying to @kiyominiscient ur so real oomf. sakusa hates gossip pages byeee 7:04 PM · Jul 3, 20XX

[name] | kiyo’s future wife (real) @kiyominiscient · 36s Replying to @keijisrealgf he’s like their worst enemy lol 7:04 PM · Jul 3, 20XX

leia @keijisrealgf · 6s Replying to @kiyominiscient hes more likely to date atsumu !!! 7:04 PM · Jul 3, 20XX

In the middle of typing out a reply, your door slams open harshly, “Oi, you better be ready, we’re leaving in thirty minutes,” the sight of your older brother, Osamu, in a plain shirt and jeans (which eerily reminds you of your father) makes you turn your attention to him, “You better still not be in pajamas.”

“Is it true that Kiyo’s dating Haiba?” you ask instead, tone in slight distress, rising from your lounge on the bed. Despite your reassurance for Sakusa’s other fans, you were more than less assured of anything. The last time you had a proper conversation with the man even through text was over a week ago, and he would never tell you if he was seeing anyone.

Osamu raised a brow, “How would I know if Kiyoomi was dating anyone? And Haiba? The model?”

“Yes, the model and I don’t know, does Atsumu not tell you or something? He would tell you if that were to ever happen, right? Right?” you were insistent. You knew your twin brothers had gossip sessions without you because of their weekly calls you walk into now that you’re temporarily staying with Osamu. You wouldn’t have wanted to sit through Atsumu’s girl problems anyway, he’d ask you directly for advice (he does this a lot) if he needed it.

“I guess so?” Osamu affirms, kind of.

“You didn’t notice anything when you visited their studio two weeks ago?” you ask, looking back at the dreaded day you scheduled a pilates class because you wanted to try it out and Osamu told you last minute when he dropped you off at the gym that he was going to the studio because Atsumu paid him to make food. You stood there, mouth agape, watching as your brother drove away, missing the chance to see the love of your life—what’s worse was Osamu did that because you would have asked to come with him, “Cause ‘Tsumu would never let him be! He’d be all up in his ass about it.”

Osamu contemplates your judgment of Atsumu, “Fair, he would do that. But I didn’t notice anyone acting differently last time I went.”

You sigh in relief, “Oh oka—”

“But doesn’t that mean if Kiyoomi were to get a girlfriend he would never tell ‘Tsumu?” Osamu thinks out loud, you froze at his glaringly correct answer, “Anyways, it’s none of our business. You’ve got to get over your silly crush on the guy. Now get up, you lazy bum.”

You frown before putting your laptop to the side after shutting it down—not forgetting to hit post on the reply—you stand up, patting down the white layered maxi skirt you were wearing and fixing the sides of your top before showing him your palms to show you were all ready before he starts to nag you, “Why would I ever be lazy with an opportunity to see Kiyo? I’ll just do my hair for a bit.”

Osamu blinks at you before sighing, already used to your comments about Sakusa, “Okay just do it quickly,” he says before leaving. You were staying with him while on vacation from university because you had nothing to do if you went back to your house. Your parents were currently on a three-month-long trip touring Europe, they should be back in a month or so, and you’d hate to be stuck in the dormitory without any company (your roommate and most of your other friends went back to their hometowns or abroad), so what was left was bothering one of your older brothers.

Your other brother, Atsumu, was too busy being a famous celebrity to house you. Alright, he’s not that mean, the reality was he was too busy moving out of his old condominium and moving into his shiny new penthouse to offer you a place to stay. Even if he did make an offer, you would choose to stay at Osamu’s any day because it meant you didn’t have to cook for yourself. As much as you were interested in Atsumu’s band activities, or more specifically, bandmate, you would not suffer through the horrors of living with him again even for only two months, you’ve had plenty of experience in that field. It’s not like Osamu wasn’t the same kind of horror, he is, just in a different font, but again, he can cook!

Securing the last strand of your hair and smiling at yourself in the mirror, you put your essentials in your handbag. Grabbing the bouquet of blue dahlias made out of paper you decided to make on a whim the past week once you found out Atsumu was hosting a housewarming party and Sakusa would most definitely be attending. You eye the three flowers you spent hours perfecting, you were badly hoping Sakusa would keep them this time. Unreachable. The meaning of the flower coincided with how you felt for him. You’ve had a slight obsession with flowers and their hidden meanings since you gave him a rose on his birthday a year ago.

You skip out of the guest room to see Osamu by the counter twirling his keys, he looks at the bouquet in your arms, you asked him if it looked pretty and he replied by muttering a ‘when the hell did you even get the time to do that’ before leading you out of his cozy apartment and heading to the parking lot. The drive didn’t feel like it was forty minutes, you were humming in excitement as you clutched your hand-made bouquet to your stomach on one hand as it sat daintily on your lap and scrolled through your phone on the other to read through the latest antics on twitter.

Soon enough you were thrown in to face the security check in at Atsumu’s new place, you kind of didn’t get it when Osamu was asked to show his ID when he said that he was Atsumu’s brother. Isn’t looking at his face already enough proof? But of course you get that it’s for security reasons, it was just funny to think about since they were literally carbon copies of each other.

You continued your humming until you were in front of Atsumu’s door, you quickly faced your brother, “Samu do I look okay?”

Osamu grunted out a yes (very unhelpful) as he told Atsumu through the phone to let you guys in. You stayed fiddling with the hem of your top when the door opened and you were greeted by Atsumu, his platinum blonde dyed hair one of the only clear distinctions he had with Osamu.

“Well if it isn’t my dearest beloved sibli—” you ducked under Atsumu mid-sentence, patting his back and absentmindedly saying a ‘yeah yeah love you too’. You were faced by nothingness, portraits and paintings but no sign of people, you do admit that his marble floors facing the skyline did pose a pretty view.

“If you’d let me finish my sentence, you would’ve known everyone’s out at the patio,” an arm was lurched on your shoulder, the same arm twisted you and angled you to the direction of open glass doors leading out to a private terrace where you spot familiar silhouettes. You heard Osamu’s footfalls follow behind you two. You couldn’t escape Atsumu’s hold and was forced to be etched at his side as he stood still on his main living area with no plans of moving anytime soon.

“She’s been restless for the past hour,” Osamu quips, sitting comfortably on a sofa chair and stretching, the comment makes you the subject of Atsumu’s jabs.

“Was it because you were excited to see me?” Atsumu grins down at you, using his free hand to murder the top of your head. You made a sound similar to a hiss as you tried to shoo his hand away.

You display your displeasure with a large frown, “I see you all the time through Samu,” you grumble.

“Gross!” Atsumu’s face scrunches and Osamu raises a threatening fist from his resting position, eyes closed and completely relaxed, “I meant seeing me, I raised you!”

“You were four when I was born,” you scrutinize, trying to get his arm off your shoulder and fail again, you kept glancing behind you where you would very much like to be at the moment, “And I do see you. On the trending page on youtube, tsu-tsu,” you chuckle at the latest nickname your brother was given because of his recent performance wearing a pink tutu. That specific performance of the band went to every corner of the internet because of the ridiculousness of their costumes (well mostly because of the ridiculousness of your brother too). You couldn’t help but think Sakusa still looked attractive wearing a colorful zebra print jumpsuit.

“I rocked that, didn’t I?” Atsumu smirked, unfazed by your obvious mockery.

“Can we go out now? Shouldn’t you be accommodating your guests or something, I’m hungry,” you groan, saying the last bit as an excuse, eyes drifting out again. You spot a head of wavy strands standing from the settee and going deeper into the corner of the patio, making your eyes widen, clutching your bouquet even tighter in anticipation.

Atsumu ignores you and glances down at your flowers, “My guests are just the guys and some other old friends, they can serve themselves,” he scoffs, giving Osamu a look, “And I’m hoping those flowers are for me.”

You made a noncommittal sound, taking the bouquet in your hands away from his view, “It’s not.”

Your brothers have always been unsupportive of your feelings for Sakusa ever since you voiced it out when you turned eighteen, hoping that confessing your feelings at that age would make them more accepting of it (spoiler: it did not). They kept acting as if it was just some phase because Sakusa was one of the first guys you’ve ever known, but you knew it was deeper than that. It wasn’t like your feelings showed up overnight, you’ve liked him ever since you were eleven and moved in the house next to the Sakusas. Your family moved because your father’s job required him to stay in Tokyo, it was a difficult decision moving so far away from Hyogo and everything familiar to you, adjusting took a while.

As an eleven year old, you were upset that you had to move away from all of your friends. You sulked for days and your brothers had to use petty tricks to get you to talk to them. Teasing and annoying you were their way to get you to respond, it was torture. They did what they did because you weren’t yourself for weeks, they were worried and didn’t know how to express it properly as stupid teenage boys.

Until one day your brothers annoyed you enough that you stormed out of the house, tears brimming in your eyes as you ran and ran till you tired yourself out. You saw a bench nearby and decided to sulk even more there. You were missing your friends and was frustrated because of your brothers, you cried your heart out for what felt like hours but were really just minutes. You were sniffling to yourself and wallowing in self pity when a handkerchief was suddenly in your blurry view. You look up at the owner holding it out to you, seeing an older boy looking awkwardly to the side, you observe what you can and the most you can make of him was his wavy hair and lean figure.

“This is my second lap in the area and you’re still sitting there looking pitiful,” his words were sharp and shouldn’t have been something said to a total stranger, you knew that much at your age, your shock from his attitude momentarily made the tears stop flowing.

“So? Aren’t you going to take it?” the stranger nudges the cloth to you again as you reluctantly take it to wipe your tears. You felt a bit better knowing a stranger cared enough to approach you, even if he was a bit rude.

You watch as the stranger starts to walk away, you inhale a sharp breath and with your quavering voice you manage to utter, “Uhm stay, please,” it was so soft that you thought he didn’t hear you for a moment.

But the stranger does stop in his tracks and looks back at you with a pointed gaze that should have been intimidating, he just stood there and you realized that he was waiting for what you had to say. Now with your less blurry gaze, you observed him more objectively. Noting how he was what you and your friends would say was a cute boy, you guessed he was around your brothers’ age.

Before you could say anything else, loud, obnoxious voices started shouting your name and running towards you. You watch in horror as your brothers approach and in your surprise, you hide behind the boy you just met. It took minutes of your brothers shouting their worry and claiming how stupid you were for running around in an unfamiliar place (which you wouldn’t have done if they weren’t being so mean in the first place!). That’s why you refused to go back with them, still using the stranger as your shield. The boy was obviously starting to get more and more irritated with each second that passed, he never asked to be in this situation when he was just doing a good deed for once.

That was when the twins finally acknowledged his presence and started questioning him, the stranger explained that he saw you crying at the bench and approached you to give you something so you would stop (he said this in an annoyed tone), and that he was about to leave when they showed up. The twins, especially Atsumu, were relentless and kept drilling him with stupid accusations like ‘Were you planning to kidnap her?! Huh!?’ when Sakusa at the time barely looked like he cared.

“Stop it!” you finally intervened, stepping out from your human shield, “Stop being so mean to him! You’re already mean enough to me,” you huffed, dramatically crossing your arms and glaring at your brothers. This made Atsumu quiet down, looking at you with a large pout on his face as if that would make you start thinking he deserved forgiveness.

“Hey, you know we didn’t mean it like that,” Osamu began, stepping forward and reaching a hand towards you—a supposed comforting invitation, “We’re sorry, so let’s go home.”

“I don’t want to,” your glare was still set, your stubbornness evident as you placed your foot down. It made both of your brothers groan, knowing when you were in your mood, you were in your mood, meaning, it’s going to take them a lot of convincing and bargaining.

“Hey,” the voice from behind you caught your attention, the chilly air was making a mess of his hair, “I don’t know whatever it is that happened but you should go home. It’s getting dark and you wouldn’t want to stay out here so late,” the stranger looks at his watch.

You contemplate it because he did have a point, and you were missing the comfort of your bed… “You’re right,” your shoulders slump and you mumble a small, “Fine.”

Atsumu cheers and you glare at him again before looking at the stranger who really looks like he wanted to leave, “What’s your name?” you finally ask.

Your brothers took your calm tone as a sign that they could approach you and they flocked to your sides as if making sure you wouldn’t run away again, they also waited in curiosity for the stranger to introduce himself.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” he says, “And you guys are…?” The twins introduced themselves, their guard down after deducing that Sakusa wasn’t a threat at all. You were a bit more shy when saying your name, you suddenly felt bashful because it was now just sinking in that this stranger-no-more saw you crying your eyes out like a baby.

Sakusa was saying his long-awaited farewell when Atsumu asked him if he lived around here and Sakusa said he was ten blocks ahead to the right, Atsumu’s exact words were ‘No way?! Us too!’. It turned into you guys walking towards your homes together with Atsumu leading the conversation with Sakusa, it turns out he was dead-set on making this guy his friend. You stepped back with Osamu and just watched as Sakusa pointedly shot down a lot of Atsumu’s statements, it made you laugh.

A couple of minutes later you guys find out that you lived right next to each other, another ‘No way?!’ from Atsumu. Osamu had to push his twin back into the house to get him—metaphorically—off Sakusa in his excitement.

You stayed out as the raven-haired opened his door, you exclaimed, “I’ll give you back your handkerchief after I wash it!”

Sakusa waved his hand as an answer, the action made another grin slip through your lips.

That began a series of countless encounters and moments with the family living next door and Atsumu successfully making Sakusa his friend (still up to debate, although he successfully roped him into forming a band with two other friends so that’s a success in making him a lifetime friend for sure). You’ve had off-hand conversations with Sakusa here and there but as the days passed you grew more and more self-conscious around the teen, until one day you found yourself looking in the mirror and admitting to your reflection that you have a huge crush on Sakusa Kiyoomi.

“I thought liking Sakusa was just a phase,” Atsumu sounded baffled, this brought you back to reality, “How many times do we have to tell you he’s too old for you?”

“He is not,” you defended, four years was practically nothing! You were twenty this year! Sure you’ve liked him since you were a kid and it was just a stupid crush back then but you weren’t a kid anymore and you still like him. Doesn’t that mean something?

“He’s practically ancient,” Atsumu says as if the person he was talking about wasn’t a few feet away. The heavy weight on your shoulders makes its presence known, you look at Osamu for help but he just stares at you because he agrees with Atsumu.

You grunt, “You’re literally the same age, are you calling yourself ancient?”

“What’s the hold up?” another voice joins, you all turn to look at Suna Rintarou holding a plate with pepperoni pizza, “Atsumu you need to buy more food, and before you say anything else Akaashi and Kita agreed that we do need more food. Oh! It’s little Miya, long time no see.”

You frown at the nickname, Suna insists on calling you that even though you’ve told him countless times that you had a proper name. He’s part of the same band Atsumu and Sakusa were in, he’s also the twins’ former schoolmate at Inarizaki High which was how they met in the first place, “Hi Suna,” you greet blandly, looking defeated.

“You’re looking more and more like the twins every day,” the corner of Suna’s lips raise in a smirk as your face contorts to an expression that could only be described as disgust.

“I will start crying, tell me you don’t mean that,” you use your free hand to cover your face in exasperation at your situation. You just wanted to see and talk to Sakusa! You don’t understand why your brothers were being such a pain by keeping you away from him (which they didn’t do before, they only started with this weird intervention when you confessed your feelings for Sakusa a year ago). It wasn’t like you were going to pounce on the guy as soon as you saw him! You still had some decency and respected his space.

“I give you a part of your allowance, little brat,” Atsumu sneers. Your extra meals and clothes you were only able to buy because Atsumu spoiled you with his music money flash before your eyes.

“Tell me you didn’t mean it as a joke,” you add to remedy your previous statement. It seemed to appease Atsumu enough but it didn’t warrant him setting you free.

“This is starting to get tedious, I think it’s been enough. Let her loose,” Osamu states, standing up with his hands crossed against his chest. In his words, you scowl even as Atsumu finally lets you go, you massage the part of your shoulder where Atsumu’s weight was pressed using your free hand.

“I’m not your little pet,” you point using your handmade blue flowers in the air, dragging them from Atsumu to Osamu, as if making the statement ‘I’m going to do whatever I want’. You huff as you turn your heels to see Suna’s amused face which you glare at as well before practically running towards Atsumu’s fancy terrace.

Not before faintly hearing Suna badgering Atsumu about more food as you slide out the glass doors and are greeted by the chill of the evening air. You made eye contact and greeted the three people seated around the gray L-shaped sofa. Akaashi on the furthest to the left—the main vocalist of their band, the one most of your friends had a crush on—and Atsumu’s closest former seniors back in high school, Kita and Aran, if you remembered correctly. You knew this housewarming party would only consist of a few people because Atsumu wasn’t exactly sociable, despite his obnoxious and loud demeanor. You were surprised to not see another face though, you briefly wondered if they had another fight. You shake those thoughts away and focus on what’s important. Greeting Sakusa.

His tall figure was leaning on the edge of the patio, keeping to himself as usual. You walked around the small table displayed in the middle, sidestepping the decorative plants. You were careful as you approached, not knowing what reaction you would get. Would he act again as if he didn’t know you had feelings for him? Ignore you? Treat you coldly? But you know Sakusa wasn’t like that, despite everything, you practically grew up together. You could never be a stranger, you hoped you’d never be a stranger.

“Miya,” you almost jump in surprise at him acknowledging you first. He’s always called you by your last name, you didn’t know why when he could call the twins by their first name just fine. It’s not like he doesn’t say your name or nickname sometimes too, he just chooses to call you Miya for some reason. It improved in some way, he used to call you ‘Little Miya’ like Suna did back when you were sixteen, and you complained enough about it that he stopped.

“Were you waiting for me?” you gave him a sheepish smile, braver, stepping closer until you were standing beside him. You didn’t wait for his response in case your heart gets crushed by his answer and instead showed him the blue dahlias, “I made these for you.”

Sakusa gives one glance at the paper flowers before meeting your gaze, you wait with bated breath for his response, “You didn’t get poisoned by the rotten apple fruit shake, then?”

You almost didn’t understand what he meant, then you remembered the series of texts you sent him a few days ago which he never replied to, so you thought he hadn’t read it. You almost pout at the thought that he just didn’t want to reply, but that was typical of him already, “It looked normal on the outside okay? I told you it was Samu’s fault, who in their right mind would keep those lying around in their homes—and you’re distracting me!” you accuse once you realized he was trying to change the topic.

The corners of his lips twitch and if you hadn’t grown up with him you wouldn’t have noticed that little change in his otherwise deadpan expression, you place emphasis on your gift once again by lightly shaking it. He takes another glance, a hand reaching out to gently nudge the delicate paper-made petals with his fingers, “How long did it take you to make these?” “Around three days,” you answer dismissively, waiting patiently for him to take it, “I chose to make a nonexistent flower eternal,” you boast, proud of yourself.

“You could’ve used that time for other things, enjoy your summer break,” Sakusa says offhandedly, turning to look at the view, “Don’t waste it making gifts for me.”

“Making gifts for you is not a waste, this is the only way I can show you that what I feel for you is sincere,” your brows furrow, “And I am enjoying summer break, I’ve done a lot of things already.”

“I know,” Sakusa sighs, you didn’t know what he was referring to. Your sincerity? Or that you’ve been spending your break to the fullest? You do update him through texts from time to time, you make sure not to bother him too much for fear that he starts finding you annoying like a lot of other aspects of his life.

To your happiness, he plucks the bouquet from your hands. You were then overcome with the irrational fear that he would drop it, which was silly, “Keep it in a vase, okay?” you ask, “Preferably somewhere like your countertop or in the lobby,” you began to suggest the most visible ways he could display it, your own little way of putting bits and pieces of you in his life.

“Why didn’t you come with Osamu when he delivered Atsumu’s food?” Sakusa asks instead, changing the conversation.

A small pout forms on your lips, “He left me,” you complain, “They’re on some weird pact trying to keep me away from you.”

“They mean well,” Sakusa says, a glint of amusement in his eyes, probably imagining the twins doing everything so you wouldn’t be able to make any advances on him, “You’re their only baby sister, of course they would be protective.”

You lean against the stone railing, looking out on the view, slightly upset, “I know they mean well, that makes it worse. It’s not like I can’t think for myself, I know what I’m doing.” “Do you?” Sakusa asks, adjusting his body to look at you properly.

“You said you’d let me try,” you mumble, looking back at the time you confessed to him and declared you would try to win his heart, that he should give you a chance. At the time, Sakusa looked surprised, never thinking of the possibility that you would develop feelings for him deeper than anything platonic.

“Because I thought you’d find some other guy your age you’d focus on more when you start university,” Sakusa lets out a breath, “I’m not the one for you, Miya.”

His statement stabs you directly in the heart.

“You don’t…” you gulp, a lump stuck in your throat, “...have to like me back,” you bit down on your lower lip, “Can’t you just let me like you?”

“You mean a lot to me,” ‘just not in the way you want me to’, you could almost hear Sakusa’s train of thought, “You’re young—”

“You are not that much older,” you practically groaned, that was always their excuse.

“And yet I’ve known and experienced more in life than you,” Sakusa states bluntly, “Be serious, Miya. What you want isn’t going to work, so get over me,” talking down on you.

Your jaw clenches and you raise your chin at him, even with his frame towering over you, “It’s not that easy, Sakusa,” it was petty, not using the nickname you’ve called him since you were a kid. Being petty by using his last name as if that would put more distance between you two. It wasn’t wise letting your emotions control you, and perhaps it was proving to him more that you were still too childish for someone who already presents himself to be so mature. Though it did give the point across, that you were seriously upset, watching as something flickers in his eyes as you turn on your heels away from him.

You decide to sit in between Osamu and Akaashi, Osamu was splayed on the couch talking to Suna who was on his left about stuff you hardly care about. Even if your brother does notice your foul mood, he doesn’t point it out. Atsumu walks in holding three more boxes of pizza with a delivery guy trailing behind him holding more drinks. Which consisted mostly of alcohol and a few juices, which was most likely for your benefit. You were allowed to drink but you never liked the taste of alcohol. You watch as Atsumu directs the guy to put it on the side and that’s when you lose interest, choosing to listen in on Osamu and Suna instead.

You were catching in on their topic, but you were mostly just confused. It looks like they’re talking about Osamu’s planned business. You know this one, the onigiri franchise he wants to start. He’s working a corporate job right now to save up for his restaurant-ish (you didn’t really know what to call it), he didn’t want to risk focusing on that immediately after graduating. You know he’s near his goal, you’ve been hearing talks about finding the right building and stuff. All this business talk almost distracts you from your previous state of anger.

“Can I sit there, Akaashi?” you don’t look up to see the one person you’ve wanted to see all night. You knew he was blunt, that was just the kind of person he is, and you were used to it. Doesn’t mean just because you were used to it and you liked him, that you were immune to getting your feelings hurt.

“Sure,” Akaashi says nonchalantly, he was just on his phone the whole time you sat here, he also probably noticed you weren’t in the mood which was why he didn’t attempt conversation. You see in your peripheral vision Akaashi offering to help Atsumu with arranging the food.

You continued to listen in on Osamu’s conversation, it was beginning to be difficult to ignore the presence next to you. Your body was always hyper-aware when he was settling down, it betrays your need for indifference.

In your view, a bottle of juice was presented, it was one of your favorite flavors, “Your drink,” his voice was closer, closer than you were when you were together on the ledge. It was so difficult to stay mad at him. This was his way of making amends, you knew, and it was hard to act like you didn’t like it when he paid special attention to you. When you take no action to take the drink, he places it on the table top in front of you.

“I’ll get you food,” he says, standing up and leaving the space beside you empty. It was natural, his knowledge of knowing exactly how to appease you. It makes you feel even more devastated knowing he’s just doing this because of his years spent on familiarness with you and your habits, usually, he’d be doing this after Atsumu or Osamu (or even both of them) did something to upset you. To him, you were still the shell of the child you used to be and that meant he still wouldn’t be taking you seriously.

That was partially your fault, you were still so… emotional and childish. You knew that, you were trying to work on it, really. Based on the way you acted just a few minutes ago, you’d have to work harder. Your gaze lands on the spot at the empty seat he was in where your blue dahlias rested, he decided to keep them after all. Your chest tightens in even more fondness. Osamu glances once back at you and you shove him away.

When Sakusa came back, you took the food he offered with no complaints and drank the juice he placed in front of you, murmuring a soft, “Thank you.”

“I heard you still have that fan account up, Rika says you play pretend there,” Sakusa mentions once he settles down beside you again, gauging that you were in the mood again to talk to him properly.

You were still a bit ashamed because of how you acted, which is why you replied hesitantly, “It’s not playing pretend, I’m genuinely a fan.”

“Rika says she saw some of your tweets acting like you didn’t know Atsumu,” Sakusa seemed amused at this notion which distracted you enough that you didn’t care Rika was technically stalking you. Komori Rika was Sakusa’s cousin who works for him as his assistant, you’ve met her a couple of times and you text her whenever you want to know if Sakusa was busy or not (so you would know if it was okay to message him). She was very sweet to you so you didn’t mind it that much.

“It’s not just online, I don’t tell anyone he’s my brother—mostly because they don’t ask. And my friends would start acting differently if they knew I was directly related to ‘Tsumu,” your nose scrunches. It does disgust you when one of your friends starts gushing over him, it is probably better that you never say that fact about your family relations because your friends would start being mortified remembering all the things they said about these guys.

Sakusa hummed, knowing that part of the reason why you don’t tell people you knew Ikarus and was related to one of the band members was because of your worry that people would start befriending you because of that. He was there when your high school friendships fell apart, after all.

“What’cha guys talking about?” Atsumu intrudes by sitting between you and Sakusa, your face contorts into another unpleasant expression as Atsumu makes his presence very known and very unwanted.

You give a look at Sakusa, silently saying ‘See? I told you so’ which he responds by giving Atsumu a once-over, “You’re half-sitting on my thigh,” Sakusa grunts at him, moving to the side to be free of your brother.

“Omi-omi my guy, you know our connection transcends beyond the naked eye,” Atsumu threw an arm around Sakusa’s shoulder as you rolled your eyes and took a bite of your pizza.

For the rest of the night, you never got the chance to talk to Sakusa one-on-one again. You’d try to start a conversation with him and Atsumu butts in with his own smart-ass answer unrelated to your question in the first place. Eventually, you gave up because you knew Atsumu wouldn’t back down. You stood up from your seat, earning a few glances from the men around you. When Atsumu asks where you’re going, you say you planned to raid his house. He lets you be and you take one look back at Sakusa who was getting bothered by Atsumu before stepping inside the living room again.

First, you walked aimlessly but your feet led you to the kitchen. You started opening Atsumu’s cupboards only to find them disappointedly empty. The fridge was your next stop, you open the freezer and find chocolate bars you gladly steal. You sat on one of the countertop stools, distantly hearing Suna and Atsumu’s laughter.

What can you do for Sakusa to take you seriously? Maybe you should distance yourself for a bit, make him miss you. You chuckle at the absurd thought, in your dreams. Though it would be okay to get some space away, you’re not giving up, not by a long shot. But you’ve never really given much thought to what Sakusa’s type was since he’s never dated anyone—no one that you know of—for the past almost decade of knowing him. During high school, he only cared about his studies and the band. Then in college—where you started seeing him less—you don’t know of him dating anyone. Maybe you should ask Rika? Or maybe Motoya? Since they’re the same age.

Having a plan decided, you hum to yourself, satisfied. Biting off the last piece of chocolate, you threw the wrapper in a trash can. Then you found that the drums Atsumu had displayed in the living room interested you, spotting a pair of drumsticks lazily thrown on a desk. You take these sticks and put one experimental hit on the cymbals. A stinging ring echoed in the room.

“Oi! You better be careful with that!” Atsumu shouts from the patio, but doesn’t storm in to take them from you so that must be a good sign.

When you were younger, he never even let you near his instruments. That made playing with his instruments even more desirable. Music has always been Atsumu’s thing—well, the playing instruments part, he wasn’t very blessed vocally, Osamu used to take lessons too but stopped because it didn’t interest him enough. Your parents tried to put you through music lessons, but after accidentally plucking off the strings of your guitar one by one, they decided that for your own safety, you weren’t allowed to touch instruments.

You can still clearly remember the day Atsumu brought the three other boys home and declared he was going to start a band with them. The only person that interested you back then was Sakusa, because you didn’t know he was musically inclined. You would sneak into their practices in the extra room in your house and would stay even when Atsumu would screech at you to leave. There were days when they went to Akaashi’s house to practice so you were left pouty because you were unable to come with.

Sometimes, Sakusa was the only one who would come to your house because Atsumu begged him enough to play with him. Those were the days you enjoyed the most because Sakusa let you stay with him and watch him play the guitar. You asked him once why he didn’t play the electric guitar in the band, he said that he preferred playing the bass because it was a more reserved position, they weren’t too loud but they were a vital part of giving soul to the art (his words, not yours). That made you respect bassists even though you knew nothing about the music industry.

It was the first time you saw Sakusa with that expression on his face—at peace—it made you think that this path really must be something he loved. You were overjoyed when his and the band’s efforts paved off, even though it meant seeing him and your brother even less. They became busy, too busy for you, but you’ve learned that it was nice seeing them trending and going viral. Your social circles began to talk about them and they fawned over you too for being Atsumu’s sister.

Of course, all good things come to an end and people who you thought were your closest friends just used you to get close to them. Sakusa was there during the fallout, he checked in on you and asked if you were okay. He even took you out to distract you in place of Atsumu, who had a brand deal scheduled at the time outside the city, and Osamu, who was also out of the district for an internship. Sakusa stayed with you as you cried and cared for you more than you could ever ask. Before that, you began to think your childhood crush on him was fading but that experience when you were seventeen was when you realized that your feelings for Sakusa never left even with the distance life took him, and it probably never will.

“I’m hopeless,” you mumble to yourself, letting go of Atsumu’s drumsticks.

It only took a few minutes for Osamu to call you saying you’re going because he still had work early the following morning, all the guys say their farewells to you two. Atsumu was a tad bit over-dramatic because he was a tad bit drunk. Osamu had to pull you away from Atsumu’s embrace. You met eyes with Sakusa, giving a smile reserved just for him before Osamu completely dragged you out, noticing you were quote en quote ‘making goo-goo eyes at the poor guy’.

The rest of your summer break was uneventful.

You managed to beg Osamu to take you to a pottery class on his day off, it was fun at first but Osamu showed extraordinary skill in pottery that made your work pale in comparison. You sent a picture of you two to the group chat you had with Atsumu and the latter spammed crying emojis and threatening gifs. On Atsumu’s day off you went to a bake-your-own cake store with him, his platinum blonde hair begged for attention so you forced him to wear a beanie the whole time.

The end of break was nearing and in your last week, your parents had gone back so you had a nice complete family dinner for once. The next few days you started to pack your things again because you had to move back into your dorm, were three suitcases and a large shoulder bag a bit excessive for a two-month stay? You’d like to think not.

You were posed with another problem though, Osamu couldn’t take you back to your university because he had some three-day team building thing he was going to a day before you were supposed to go back. You thought it would be okay because you asked Atsumu and he was free that afternoon, he said that he just had a promotional shoot in the morning but he would be able to pick you up, so you thought you were all settled.

On the day itself, you stood in the lobby of Osamu’s building when Atsumu sent a message. You were starting to get irritated because he was supposed to be here by four, he promised to be here by four.

annoying blonde brother 4:00 PM I CANT MAKE IT IM SO SORRY :<< I TRIED TO I SWEAR THE SHOOT IS STILL GOING ON I THOUGHT IT WOULD FINISH EARLY BUT WE APPARENTLY HAD SOLO SHOTS???

you 4:01 PM why do u hate me :(

annoying blonde brother 4:01 PM I DONT IM SORRY IM SO SORRY :<<<< HB U WAIT IN OSAMUS APT FOR A BIT?? ITLL ONLY TAKE AN HOUR MORE I THINK

you 4:02 PM i cant i alr locked the door and left the keys inside because you were supposed to be here by now.

annoying blonde brother 4:03 PM I KNOW I KNOW IM SORRY OK WAIT THERE IN THE LOBBY ILL GET SOMEONE TO PICK YOU UP

You frown as you sit on one of the lobby chairs, alone with the receptionist. You pull your two suitcases against your legs and hug your shoulder bag, having nothing better to do. You scroll aimlessly on your feed, it wasn’t like you could do anything but wait as patiently as you possibly can in your irritable state for this ‘someone’ Atsumu is roping in to help you.

annoying blonde brother 4:11 PM he’s on his way

Atsumu neglects to tell you who this ‘he’ is. How were you supposed to know who it was? You don’t question it further, not replying back, your own form of rebellion. How could he promise to pick you up and then tell you at the last minute that he couldn’t? He had major making up to do, that’s for sure, you were not going to let him off easily. With that final thought, you were already browsing for links to clothes you’d make him buy for you.

Thirty minutes passed and you were already getting bored out of your mind. You had your head buried in your bag when your phone buzzed, signaling that it received a notification. You almost dropped your phone when you saw who it was from.

kiyo <3 4:43 PM I’m outside Osamu’s building

Sakusa? Sakusa was the one Atsumu asked to pick you up? Unbelievable. Was it his way of making up to you? What? Huh? That doesn’t seem like something Atsumu would do. What? You were puzzled, but oddly happy.

Once you got yourself together you stood up, making sure to fix yourself up, looking at your reflection on the walls. You hurriedly gather your suitcases, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You talk yourself into calming down, since this was the first time you’d be talking to him in a while. You refrained from messaging him, practicing your self-restraint, but you missed talking to him so much, even when his replies barely held any substance.

Walking towards the pavement, your heels creating a clicking sound. You held your breath as you finally saw his familiar figure leaning against his sleek black ride, was it a new car? You’ve never seen it before. His hair was styled from their usual free curls and he wore a classy white button up that hugged his body nicely. He looked straight out of a magazine—which was probably exactly where he came from. He looked up at you and your luggage.

He started walking closer to you and all you could say was a breathless, “Hi.”

Sakusa reaches for your suitcases and you gladly let him take them, “Straight to your dormitory?”

“Atsumu asked you?” you asked once you got your thoughts organized coherently, it was a spectacle you still couldn’t comprehend.

You saw that same ghost of a smile on Sakusa’s face again, “He asked Akaashi and Suna first, but they were still doing their solo shots. He even tried asking our manager. I was the last person he asked, even though I was the first one to finish, he looked pained doing it too.”

That sounded more like Atsumu, a smile plastered on your face, “Even better, fate wants us to be together.”

Sakusa shook his head as he got your shoulder bag. You followed him as he put your luggage in the back of his car, he told you to get in and you complied, walking over to the passenger seat. Happy to use this as a way to spend more time with him, and catch up with what you’ve missed in the month and a half you made yourself Sakusa-free (that didn’t mean you had to stay away from the media though, he posted exactly one instagram post that you liked immediately), that was technically abiding by being contactless.

The seatbelt clicks into place and you wait for Sakusa to get inside, you are silent as he starts to drive.

“Thank you for picking me up,” you say, hoping to start a conversation. Your university wasn’t that far from Osamu’s, probably around thirty to forty minutes away, but you didn’t know how to drive and you didn’t want to take the train with all of your necessities.

“Do you need help bringing your luggage up once we’re there?” Sakusa asks, steering, your eyes following the movement of his hands. “Uhm,” you wanted to lie and say yes, “No, I don’t think so. We have an elevator, and it would be more troublesome for you because you’d have to sign a sheet to go in. You might run into a fan too, you might see your name trending again.”

“Okay,” was his only reply. He continued to drive silently as you moped while thinking of a way to start another conversation. Time was ticking and you hadn’t realized almost an hour drive could feel this fast, does the world hate you after all?

Your brain cells were saved when Sakusa spoke next, “Have you thought about it?”

“About what?” you rubbed your palms to keep warmth, confused by what he meant.

“Dating guys in your university,” he states plainly. Your mouth hung slightly as you were struck by the memory of your conversation out at Atsumu’s patio.

You purse your lips, gripping the edge of your leather seat, “Absolutely not.”

Sakusa surprised you yet again with what he said next, “I thought that was the reason why you weren’t messaging me.”

You gaped at him, disbelieving. You didn’t even think he would notice! Suddenly you were overcome with a burst of joy, “You missed me?” you sounded way too happy for your own good.

Sakusa went completely silent. You knew you weren’t going to get an answer out of him but you were still happy with the thought of him waiting for a message from you. It was likely enough to keep you happy to be simply looking out the window on the whole way to your dormitory. But of course, you don’t miss the chance to talk to him more. You asked him a few questions here and there like how the new album was holding up and the shoots and other important marketing stuff the band needed to attend to. He answered in short one-word answers and if you were lucky, a full sentence.

Your good mood toned down when you were on the street that led to your dormitory, knowing you’d have to say goodbye to him again soon.

“Why don’t you consider it?” Sakusa asks as he stops the car in front of your building, “Seeing other guys?”

It was a bit funny how your mood went completely sour, when you were brimming with happiness a few minutes ago. Your expression was passive as you say, “I told you, you’re the only one I like,” he was bringing this up again. He couldn’t get it through his head that you would only ever like him.

“You started liking me when you were barely a teen,” Sakusa references your confession to him, where you admitted that you’ve liked him ever since you met him, “You should give yourself a chance to look at other people.”

“You won’t even look at me,” your shoulders curled, you felt like your chest was caving in on you with how loud it beat. You wondered if he could hear it.

“You’re better off with another guy,” Sakusa insists, leaning against his seat, exasperated, as if you were draining the life out of him.

“So you keep saying,” you say in almost a whisper, “Is it because you’re already seeing someone?” you ask, your mind thinking of other possible reasons as to why he didn’t even seem to want to let you like him. If he were to say that he was, you’d stop. Even though it would hurt.

“No,” Sakusa sighs, completely turning off the engine.

“Then why can’t you even let me like you?” your voice almost cracks at the end. Your nails dug in your palm.

“Stop being stubborn, Miya,” Sakusa faces you completely, his jaw set, his eyes, the only tell for his actual emotions.

“Am I not pretty enough?” it was out before you could control yourself, you couldn’t even look him in the eye because of how ashamed you were at your question, “Sorry, I know you’re not the type to be shallow about appearances. But, of course you still have standards and that… might not… be me,” your voice getting fainter the more you talk.

There was a ringing in your ear, you felt lightheaded. Thinking of ways to remedy the situation, a sour situation you turned even more dour. You started feeling anxious in your seat, too bare, too exposed.

A touch was what got you out of your blinded stupor. A touch that was cold against your warmth.

“That’s not it at all,” a gentle hand raised your chin so you could meet his gaze, “You’re getting it all wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again, guilty you were letting him in your emotional frenzy.

“Don’t… apologize,” Sakusa began looking frustrated, his jaw ticking and his eyes shaky, “You’re beautiful, okay?”

You blinked, once, twice.

Despite all the signs that you weren’t dreaming, you still weren’t convinced this was your reality. Sakusa just called you beautiful. Sakusa told you, you were beautiful. Sakusa called you beautiful. No matter how many times you rephrase it in your head, it still felt unreal. You dumbly stared back, not knowing what to reply.

“I, uhm, o-okay?” you embarrassingly stutter out. Sakusa found you beautiful.

“I’m only looking out for you,” the hand still on your chin caressed your cheek. His words brought your senses back. You were afraid he was going on another tirade about how your affection shouldn’t be directed at him. That you should find some other guy to pour your heart out to. That no matter what you do, he would never be the one for you.

You nibbled on your lower lip, observing as his gaze fell down to it and back up to meet your unsteady stare.

“But…” you began, thinking of comebacks, reasons, anything, “I like you,” your eyes fluttered, in the end, that was the only thing that mattered to you, “So much,” your voice was fragile, and you could barely look at him straight.

You watched as his gaze sharpened, you waited seconds for a frustrated remark but it never happened. Instead, it looked like he was contemplating something. You waited, patient, willing to take whatever it was that he was willing to give you. And then finally, as if he couldn’t resist it, he tilted your head to the side and slowly, softly, lips barely grazing your cheek. Like his touch, it was cool, yet it gave you warmth all the same as heat rose to your face.

It was quick, and abrupt, and he let go of you immediately after as if your skin gave him burns.

Sakusa was tense as he opened the door and stepped out of the car. You gulped, your heart wanted to escape your chest, and you could hardly remember how to breathe.

Steadily—as steady as you can manage in your current state—and carefully, a hand went up to hold your cheek where Sakusa kissed you.

a/n — alright so i went a lil crazy with this one BUT MY EXCUSE IS i am in love with sakusa kiyoomi HES SO UGH mine

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