#COLOR+FULL=[AWARD]

[bulentfilms]

BRAWLER - Martial Arts Action Short Film (4k)

[rogerdeakinsdp]

Academy Award Winners for Best Cinematography: 2001 — Peter Pau, HKSC 臥虎藏龍 / Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) Directed by Ang Lee Aspect Ratio: 2.39 : 1

"We make a lot of period action films in Hong Kong, and we generally use hard light and a full range of colors. We control them very carefully, often using extreme blacks and pure whites and mixing deep reds and blues with lots of fog and smoke effects. But that dynamic approach did not work for Crouching Tiger, because the storytelling approach was very dramatic; using those techniques would have overdramatized the film and taken the audience out of the story and away from the characters. Instead, we wanted a look that was realistic and comfortable, so the first thing I discussed with Ang was using a low-contrast visual approach with desaturated colors."— Peter Pau for The American Society of Cinematographers, January 2001

[irisintheafterglow]

bsf!shoto doesn't understand when being punctual went out of style.

when you swing open your front door the instant he was about to knock, you startle backward like you'd seen a ghost.

"oh, wow." your eyes are wide open and your mouth gapes before snapping shut. "you're, uh, here very early," you manage to say, turning back inside and kicking the door the rest of the way open with your foot. he follows behind you as you hurry back to your bathroom, your makeup halfway done and seven possible outfits laid on your bed. he follows you through the hallway, stopping only a moment to glance at a baby photo of you on the wall. he'd seen the photos hundreds of times, but he found it amusing that you made the same face of surprise when you were little.

"i am ten minutes before our agreed upon meeting time, is that distressing?"

"not distressing, just surprising. in my experience," you continue while patting glitter on the inside corner of your eyelid, "guys don't usually show up on time for dates."

"well, it's a good thing i'm not other guys, then," he smirks and you roll your eyes with a poorly hidden grin. "i also didn't need to waste time picking you flowers--"

"since most of the stuff makes me sneeze anyway," you finish for him, your cheeks warm under the dusting of powder blush. you had known shoto for nearly three quarters of your life, yet it still caught you off guard every time he said something that told you he'd been paying attention to you. "very thoughtful of you." your eyes meet his in the mirror, flicking to his broad shoulder leaning against the doorframe. "staring is rude."

"then you're a hypocrite," he immediately counters with no change in tone, the only indication of his smugness the slightest narrowing of his eyes. his expression turns thoughtful, fond almost. he smiles softly and the endearment makes your cheeks warm even more. "i like that color. the one on your eyes."

"mmm, i know it's your favorite," you reply coyly. shoto's eyes drag from your face down the rest of your body, something different flickering across his face. "something wrong?"

"no, you just...you look beautiful," he manages to say.

"i'm wearing pajamas and all might socks that have at least three holes. in each sock," you chuckle, turning to him over your shoulder. "i certainly don't feel beautiful."

"i can fix that."

"what?"

"what?" he blinks at you, dumbfounded, and you giggle at his slip-up. "who said that?"

"you're funny, sho." you try to ignore the way his eyes follow every movement of your hands as they swipe color over your lips and make last adjustments to your lashes. when you're done, he steps out of your way so you can take your numerous outfit choices to the bathroom, settling down next to your bed to help you decide like he'd done before. "this is a little different, you know," you say through the crack in bathroom door as you tug on your first arrangement. "before, you were helping me decide what to wear for school award ceremonies and stuff like that."

"i could still do that, if you want," he replies with complete sincerity. "i do still want to do that."

"it's a little weird to be dating your best friend, since i feel like you already know all the things that would make me a terrible person to date," you continue and he falls silent on the other side of the door, prompting you to peek out of the bathroom. "sho? is everything okay?"

"yes, everything is fine." there's the slightest dip in his perfect eyebrows that tell you otherwise.

"the 'no lying' rule carries over from friendship to dating, you know," you remind him casually and step out completely, turning in a circle for the full effect. "what do you think?"

"i think that's a bit...warm," he states bluntly. you blink at him and half expect him to laugh, but he doesn't. he's dead serious about you being too warm.

"i am a little warm, yes," you admit in your thick sweater and fleece stockings. "but, i'd also like to dress warmer than i need to because it's so much easier to cool off than it is to warm up."

"i can do both of those things for you," shoto declares. "why wouldn't i do both of those things for you?"

"i don't want you to hassle and need to use your quirk on date night." your voice trails off but he's having none of it.

"is this what you mean by 'things that make you a terrible person to date?' planning ahead so you're not a burden?" you shift your weight uncomfortably under his gaze and can't muster any other answer but shrugging.

"i just...i don't want you to need to change to accommodate me, now that we're together," you explain quietly. he stands and takes your hands in his, lacing your fingers together without a second thought. "if it's easier for me to be uncomfortable and you to be comfortable--"

"why is both of us being comfortable not a possibility?" he asks, tilting his head forward slightly. "why can you prioritize me but i cannot prioritize you?" you have no further argument but his point is hammered home. "do you love me as you wish to?"

"wholeheartedly."

"then let me love you as i wish to. wholeheartedly."

[wonderjanga]

Pageants

Billy Mary and Freddy were minding their own business. They were all walking down the street, chilling, when all of a sudden, three flyers flew out of nowhere and smacked each of them in the face.

Mary: *peels it off* “What’s this?”

Billy: *peels his own off* “It’s a flyer for a pageant.”

Freddy: *pulls his off* “Woah! The award for winning 200 dollars!”

Billy and Mary: *gasp*

Billy: “Mary, you did pageants with the Bromfield’s right?”

Mary: *actually takes the time to read her flyer* “Yeah? But wait, it’s a duo pageant circuit… and it’s for girls only.”

Billy: “Aw darn it. Where are we gonna find another girl?”

Freddy and Mary: *slowly turn to Billy in unison*

Billy: “Why’re you guys looking at me like that?”

Mary: “Well, Billy, you and I are twins.”

Billy: “So?”

Freddy: “So we just need to slap a little make up on you and you can probably pass off as a girl!”

Billy: “What?! No! I don’t wanna dress up as a girl!”

Freddy: “Billy, think of the moolah. Imagine not having to worry about food for months!”

Mary: “Yeah, or we could save the money for later, or rent, or something.”

Billy: “I…” *sighs* “Alright.” *sounds super resigned*

That’s how Mary and Billy ended up entering a beauty pageant with Freddy as their manager. That’s also why Billy was stuffed into a ruffly dress, along with his sister. As for how they procured the dress, neither of the twins know. (Freddy swiped two from a rack that had the same design, but were two different colors.)

Announcer: “And next we have contestants 34 and 35. What an adorable pair of twins!”

Mary and Billy: *holding hands as they walk across the stage and giving their best little kid smiles*

Freddy coached them long and hard about acting like, his words, not theirs, frilly little empty-headed girls, whatever that meant. Mary gave him an Indian burn for saying that. She then promptly took over the coaching.

It was mostly thanks to Mary that they practically breezed through the competition. Billy now, really really wants to ask if it was this easy for her when she was doing these things on her own.

Announcer: “And the winners are… the Batsons!”

Other contestants: *start crying*

Mary: *immediately drops her pageant girl act* “Yeah! Suck it!”

Billy: *just following his sister’s example* “What she said!”

Mary and Billy: *run over and grab the check from the guy*

Audience: *confused at the sudden flip in personality*

Mary and Billy: *run off to go find Freddy*

With their new money, they did the first thing they thought of, which was go to a diner and gorge themselves. They’ve never been so full.

Freddy: *patting his stomach* “I could get used to the high life. You guys should totally participate in more pageants.”

Billy and Mary: *shrug*

[evandorkin]

Once again plugging the BEASTS OF BURDEN OMNIBUS in the hopes of selling a copy or two. In this modern comics world a book comes out and disappears like a pebble tossed in a lake. There's a few ripples and then it's forgotten. I keep taking this pebble out and drying it. I don't think that metaphor really works but fuck it.

BUY THIS BOOK. DON'T POSTPONE JOY.

The Beasts of Burden Omnibus is available at full-line comic shops and bookstores that support stuff like this. It's also available from online book and comic shops and sellers. Published by Dark Horse Comics, the same folks who published The Eltingville Club, Dork and Milk & Cheese (and will once again in the future).

Almost 600 color pages of story and extras for only $30. Dogs and cats versus the supernatural. Includes every story done so far including the crossover with Mike Mignola's Hellboy. Art by co-creator Jill Thompson and Benjamin Dewey. Lettering by Nate Piekos and Jason Arthur. Scripts by e, with several stories co-written with Sarah Dyer. Winner of eight Eisner Awards and a Harvey Award. We lost some other things we were nominated for.

It's a good comic.

End of plug.

[jeonstellate]

the best day

carlos keeps a watchful eye on his daughter [first name] as she explores the paddock.

★ᝰ carlos sainz jr x toddler!daughter!reader

★ᝰ no warnings available — fluff!

★ᝰ paragraph format — 1.3K words

masterlist

[pic’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

★ᝰ title from taylor swift’s the best day.

★ᝰ all the spanish — and toddler talk — in this are from google, unfortunately.

★ᝰ the random inspo for this was those vids of toddlers in fluffy onesies. it prompted the idea of toddler!yn in a stitch onesie who refuses to answer to any name other than ‘stitch.’ alas, to my astonishment, that idea didn’t even fit *insert person standing emoji here*

With the Spanish Grand Prix underway, the paddock is [first name] Sainz’s to conquer. She toddles along pass the motorhomes as fast as her little legs can, one squeaky step at a time.

Her father, Carlos Sainz Jr., follows her a step behind, eyes simultaneously soft and focused. [First name] may be wearing an outfit that covers the entirety of her legs, but he doesn’t really trust that it’ll save her from scraping them if she falls.

In his humblest opinion, his daughter is a little too young to refuse to walk next to him and hold his hand, but alas. What [first name] wants, [first name] gets.

Carlos almost bumps into [first name] when she suddenly stops and pivots to face the motorhome on her right. "Papa, ca!" She exclaims, pointing excitedly upwards. "Ca! Iiiih!"

He turns to see for himself, only to be hit with the proud and overly familiar Ferrari red. His darling daughter, as it turns out, is captivated by the prancing horse above the door.

He squats next to her. And, like an instinct or another, she moves closer to stand between his bended legs. "Bien hecho, mi amor," he praises, "es un caballo." ["Well done, my love, that is a horse."]

She giggles as he presses a kiss on her cheek. It’s always been the best sound he’s heard, especially when he’s the one who elicits it from her. "Itch too, Papa," she says, moving her stuffie closer for him to kiss.

Naturally, he obliges. "Claro, no podemos olvidarnos de Stitch." ["Of course, we can’t forget about Stitch."] In a fit of inspired parenting, he returns her attention to the building in front of them. He points towards the red walls. "¿Qué color es ese?" ["What color is that?"]

[First name] unconsciously crunches her nose as she thinks. "Jojo," she eventually answers, still not quite able to say rojo properly.

"¿Y Stitch? ¿Qué color es?" ["And Stitch? What color is he?"]

"Asu!" She replies rather quicker — and notably more excitedly. "Bwoo!"

Carlos awards his daughter with another affectionate kiss on her cheek. "Muy bien, mi amor!" ["Very good, my love!"]

She kisses her Stitch plushie this time, very reminiscent of what he just did to her. "Itch es asu."

"Sí, Stitch es azul. Bien hecho!" ["Yes, Stitch is blue. Well done!"]

He sneaks a look at his watch. An idea forms as soon as he sees he still has plenty of time to spare before the team meeting. He scoops [first name] on his way up to straighten his legs. "C’mon, [First name]. We can get some practice in before we have to go back."

In lieu of answering, his daughter makes herself comfortable in his arms. Her own are securely around her precious stuffie.

Her eyes wander as he proceeds their parade across the paddock.

He stops directly in front of the green accents on the Aston Martin motorhome’s wall. "Venga, mi amor." ["Alright, my love."] He points to the green, "¿Qué color es este?" ["What color is this?"]

"Be’de," she mumbles.

"Eso es. Muy bien, mi amor." ["That’s right. Very good, my love."] He praises. "You’re a genius!"

In response, she giggles once more. His Mamá says she got that from him, but he doesn’t really believe that. But, then again, he doesn’t remember being her age.

Before he can say anything else, [first name] starts wiggling out of his hold. "Down, Papa."

Carlos’ thirty-three months of experience has taught him a lot of things, including his daughter’s cues. "¿Quieres andar?" ["You want to walk?"] He asks for confirmation.

"Sí." ["Yes."]

He obliges, but not before he plants another kiss on her cheek.

And like any other toddler who has mastered the art of walking, [first name] zooms as soon as both of her feet touch the concrete. She doesn’t even give him a chance to ask if she wants to hold his hand while she explores the rest of the paddock.

And, of course, like any other toddler parent, he’s hot on her tail — laser-focused on not losing her in the slowly increasing chaos. He’s starting to regret forgetting the safety tether backpack Nico gifted him when he heard his daughter has learned how to walk.

Her resumed fast toddling eventually leads them to the Red Bull motorhome — exactly in front of the halved Red Bull insignia. "Muuu!"

Carlos can’t stop himself from laughing. The mental image of Red Bull’s infamous bulls being replaced with cows is somehow funnier than it really should. "Mi amor, eso no es una vaca." ["My love, that is not a cow."] He miraculously manages to correct between his laugh. "Es un toro." ["That’s a bull."]

To her part, [first name] looks up at him with utter confusion. "Muuu?" She says again, but with less confidence this time — almost as if she’s asking a question.

He wraps up his laughs to make sure she can actually understand him. "No," he starts the correction gently. "Es un toro. Un toro." ["That’s a bull. A bull."] He repeats slowly, carefully pronouncing each syllable on ‘toro.’

She hesitates before following. "Do’o?"

"Sí, eso es. Muy bien!" ["Yes, that’s right. Very good!"] For good measure, he repeats the word — slowly, still. "Toro." ["Bull."]

"Do’o," she copies with more confidence. And more thoughtfully, somehow. He watches as she plays with her Stitch plush’s ear almost absentmindedly. "No muuu."

"No muuu," he echoes in agreement.

[First name] doesn’t seem to like that, based on how she hmphs and turns her back on the painted red bull. Suddenly, she’s no longer captivated — as if her attention is solely dependent on the fact that she thought it’s a cow.

Her small back simultaneously looks disappointed and offended as she waddles away. She doesn’t even spare the Red Bull motorhome another glance.

Carlos follows with an amused shake of his head. His daughter can sure be dramatic at times.

Contrast to how she stopped in her tracks and ran toward the Ferrari and Red Bull motorhomes respectively, [First name] walks by the McLaren motorhome like she doesn’t see it. He can’t really blame her for doing so, as McLaren doesn’t have an animal in its insignia like Ferrari and Red Bull do, but it’s a little funny considering he can see Lando watching from the other side of the glass walls.

He waves to his former teammate before calling her back. "[First name]." He gestures for her to walk back towards him as soon as she responds to her name and looks back, "come."

[First name] turns her whole body around, but stays planted on a spot. She tilts her head slightly. "Why?"

"Tío Lala’s inside."

"Tío Lala?" She echoes. Lando’s name almost becomes a magic word, except she appears to have thought better about her excitement for seeing her uncle again. She ultimately shakes her head. "No."

"No?" He echoes this time, but for a completely different reason than hers: Utter disbelief. "Why not?"

She points behind her, towards the section of the paddock she hasn’t explored, "Itch quiere allí." ["Stitch wants there."]

Carlos makes a conscious effort to ignore the slight pout of her mouth. He hasn’t quite built an immunity to it yet. "¿Stitch no quiere ver a Tío Lala?" ["Does Stitch not want to see Uncle Lala?"]

She makes a sound of realization. It’s clear she didn’t think of it until he asked. It’s further proven when she takes a moment to consider his question.

Unfortunately, her contemplation doesn’t end with his unconsciously desired response. "Des-pués." ["Later."] As it seems, her desire to explore her new environment exceeds her usual excitement about her ‘favorite’ uncle (or so Lando claims he is).

He knows he can very well just usher [first name] into McLaren or carry her in. She’ll only fuss in the beginning, but she’ll ultimately forget about it most likely once she sees her uncle.

But, again: What [first name] wants, [first name] gets.

And he really has nothing against her wishes to explore. His Mamá told him it’s better for her to move a lot so her muscles develop strong.

So he just turns back to Lando to mouth "We’ll come back" before he promptly follows her already retreating form. "Wait for Papá, [first name]."

Carlos should’ve known that only encourages her to toddle away faster.

[thanosscross]

Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x english speaking reader who try to learn korean for him but fails at first cause learning knew language is hard ?

Yess! I love this idea!! I just hope you don't mind a little twist added! This was just too cute and I just had to make it into a series!!<333 So with Reader also being a performer, just think along the lines of Brittney Spears vibes, just younger :0

All for show 1/? - Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x Amercian! Pop-Star! Reader

Summary: After meeting at an award show, Seung Hyun notices international pop-star, Y/n L/n was mainly all for show in the spotlight.

Warnings: Your manager is 100% a dick in this, him trying to sexualize the reader before Seung Hyun fixes it for you <3

Whenever you were invited to guest perform at a music awards show, you were excited to accept the offer, you were in your off year from tours, and shows, so you were itching to get back on stage. You always loved being on stage, it wasn't that you loved attention, or were fame hungry, quite the opposite, actually. You just loved doing what you found fun, and that was dancing and singing, while also having fun with fans during your shows, your agency, just liked to make it look like you were hungry for the attention and male gaze.

Flying to America for one of their award shows, was odd for the boys, not knowing they had actually been nominated for one of the 'highest streaming' awards, The four were excited, practically bouncing around in their seats as they went over show plans and the line-up for the award show. "Holy shit, They're going to have the one girl there, uh!..Shit! Seung Hyun's favorite person to dance to while drunk!" Tae-Yang shouted, trying his best to think of your name "Y/n L/n!" Ji-Yong smiled, having multiple of your songs in his playlist, he didn't care if your choreography and songs didn't fit into the usual K-pop female music, yours diving way more into sexual topics and themes, but you weren't in K-pop, you were an American singer, meaning you could get away with a lot more. "I bet she's awesome in person! Have you seen her on stage!?" Dae-Sung gasped, leaning over the first class seat, looking at the line-up that Tae-Yang had pulled up.

As you walked into the giant room, you'd be performing and rehearsing in, you smiled brightly "I'm so excited! I just hope management approved the outfits I submitted" You said excitedly, holding your best friend's hand tightly, she was actually your assistant, but who cared? You were around each other enough to be considered best friends. "I'm sorry, Y/n..." She whispered, motioning to your dressing room, you sighed walking back to see the clothing rack sitting proudly in the center of the room, of course they wouldn't approve it, why would you ever be allowed to wear pants? You pouted walking over to the rack, your face twisting with disgust as you saw the extremely short spandex shorts, rhinestones and colored jewels covering the cheap fabric underneath, paired with nothing but basically a bra covered in the same rhinestones and jewels. Moving it to the side, you felt a little better, seeing somewhat of a bodysuit, the only difference being, the pant legs of it being cut off into the same shortness as the shorts from before, at least this time you would have more coverage up top.

Making your way to your rehearsals, you waved to the sound workers, making sure your microphone was taped down on your cheek securely, before making your way onto the stage, nodding your head to the intro of your song "Are we doing full effort? Or just running through?" You asked softly, looking towards the stage manager and your manager "Let's just do full effort, You haven't performed in over six months? You're rusty" He replied, you just shot him a glare, rolling your eyes before starting your choreography, singing softly with your backtrack that played through the speakers at the side of the stage.

The boys tried their best to calmly walk inside, jumping up and down for a moment in excitement as they heard music echoing from down the hall, as they made their way closer, following the stage tech to the giant room, Seung Hyun's eyes immediately landing on you as you made your way down to the edge of the stage. You were more breathtaking in person, even in a loose hoodie and sweatpants, you still danced and dropped to the ground like it was absolutely nothing for you. As the music played in the background, allowing you a moment to catch your breath, you just continued to jump along to it, throwing your arms up as the beat faded out. The four boys quickly clapped loudly, bowing towards you as you turned your attention to them "Oh my god! I didn't know other people were here! I'm so sorry! I knew we should've just ran through it like usual" You apologized before turning to scold your manager, the boys just chuckled and protested "No! No! You're okay! That was amazing!" Seung Hyun argued, Dae-Sung smiling and nodding in agreement "Yea, we just got here! We're big fans!" He smiled, causing Seung Hyun to lightly smack his arm, not wanting to blow his cover of acting cool around you. "Awe! Thank you! I've heard your guys' music too, I have it in all of my workout playlists" You giggled, stepping down off of the stage, ignoring your managers protests that you still had one more song to run before you could run off. "BigBang right? Ji-Yong...Dae-Sung, Tae-Yang, and....Do you prefer Top or Seung Hyun?" You giggled, recalling their names the best you could, watching as each boy blushed brightly as your name fell from their lips. Each boy had their own crush on you for different reasons, but all of them fell almost under the same category, your confidence, especially whenever it came to your music videos and performances.

"U-Um..You can call me Seung Hyun" He smiled softly, watching as you smiled brightly, covering your cheeks slightly as you blushed slightly, his smile was even cuter in person. "Nice to meet you boys, I'm Y/n..as you know.." You giggled awkwardly, groaning as you heard the beginning of your song start to play, turning to flip your manager off before walking back to the stage. You two had a love-hate relationship, mainly hate, but with you being the biggest pop-star under your manager's contracts, he couldn't afford to lose you, and you were too big of a people pleaser to leave. Strutting around the stage to the music, you nodded your head lazily, it was your biggest song, so you had done the song and choreography a million times before. "Y/n." Your manager warned, you just rolled your eyes towards him before moving your arms, dragging your hands across your chest before flicking your hands with the beat of the music. As you kneeled down, you shot a glare to your manager, knowing damn well your ass would be on full view during this part if you wore either outfit you had, you rolled onto your hands and knees, crawling towards the edge of the stage for a few counts of the song, before rolling onto your back, bending on knee up as you rested a hand in your hair, panting loudly "I'm not doing that, and you can't force me, Christopher" You demanded, popping up to your feet "You will, or you can be on hiatus for another year" He threatened, narrowing your eyes as you marched towards him, you felt your blood boiling, how dare he threaten that? Whenever you've given the last eight years of your life to him, signing on with him at sixteen, and still staying at 24, even if you were tired of his shit. "You have me half naked on stage and on national television!" You shouted, jabbing his chest quickly, he was quick to catch your finger, holding it as he glared you down.

Seung Hyun clenched his fists, not liking the way your interaction seemed to be going, but Ji-Yong just stopped him from moving forward any "We have our arguments with YG, she has hers" He whispered, watching from afar as you yanked your hand away from your managers huffing loudly "It always responds better with audiences if you're dressed more revealing" You manager smirked, trying to keep his voice low as more of the artists started showing up, you just felt yourself become more angry, of course he was going to make it like you were the problem now. "I'm not wearing it, or I'm not doing the choreography." You snapped before storming towards your dressing room, feeling like you needed to leave before you ended up punching his stupid face. As you sat on your sofa, you glared harshly at the two outfits hanging on the rack, and then the one you had in your bag as a spare, the one you originally wanted. It was nothing special, just a pair of jeans and a crop-top that had come from your merch line that you had customized to be one of a kind by adding rips and adding pieces of your own Jewlery to it, along with a loose oversized flannel to go over.

You never noticed the knocking on your door, or your assistant letting in the tall K-pop star "If you keep glaring that hard, you might be lucky enough to cause them to catch fire" Seung Hyun noted, causing you to jump, turning your attention towards him as you caught your breath from the slight scare "Sorry! I'm so sorry, Aein!" He apologized quickly, he didn't mean to frighten you, he just wanted to make sure you were alright, and didn't need a teammate to kick your managers ass. "A..en?" You questioned, tilting your head as you continued to try and repeat the word, you weren't sure if he had just forgotten your name, or if it was some type of insult or compliment in Korean "Aein, It's um..Sweetheart" He replied, suddenly becoming flustered by his own flirty nickname for you "Oh...Ain" You tried, letting your head fall as you giggled "That's still not right is it?" You asked giggling, watching as Seung Hyun shook his head smiling "Aein.." He said slower this time, sounding out each syllable, watching as you nodded closely, excited to learn a new way to speak to others, and your fans from Korea. "Aein..You're an Aein too?" You questioned, he just laughed softly as your attempt, nodding as you finally somewhat pronounced it right "Very close, so, what's going on with grandpa out there?" He asked playfully, sitting on the chair across from you, you sighed looking at him "I'm sure you don't want to hear about all of that" You sighed, glancing at your watch, four hours until show time, Seung Hyun just shook his head sighing "Maybe I do?" He questioned, smiling a bit as you tilted your head "You know..I don't..sleep with other artists right?..That was a rumor-" Seung Hyun was quick to cut your nervous tone off "No! Aein, I just want to make sure you're alright!" He smiled, watching as you tilted your head even more before slowly sitting back on the couch "That's my manager, Chris, he's a good guy, just a man" You huffed before turning to look at the K-pop Idol that sat in front of you "No offense, I just mean, he fits that stereotypical, womanizer, asshole" You explained watching as he giggled and nodded at your cautiousness, whatever training agency you went through must've trained you for PR well especially if you were cautious around other celebrities in private. "He's got me in those outfits, dancing like I was, and everybody will see everything and It's going on tv so it will always be out there" You huffed, resting your head in your hands as you tried your best not to cry, you weren't really ever this emotional, but you felt trapped, like you had no options.

"Hey, hey, it's okay" Seung Hyun replied, moving quickly to sit next to you, rubbing your back gently as you tried your best to not cry. "I don't know what to do, and I'm crying to a man I just met" You huffed, laughing at yourself softly, glancing up to your vanity mirror huffing loudly "I look so fucking stupid" You whispered, trying to wipe the tears and makeup off of your face, that's whenever Seung Hyun first noticed that whenever you were on stage, it was all for show, while you might've been confident, you didn't seem as confident as you were. "You don't, I think you're just, stressed right now" He whispered, growing frustrated as he tried to think of the words to explain that you were alright and all idols get like that, but his mind was blanking, only thinking of them in his own language. You took a deep breath, giving Seung Hyun a soft smile "That's sweet, but there's nothing shaking my opinion, anyways, what're you doing in here?" You asked, realizing as your emotions started to calm, Seung Hyun never really stated why he was there "Well, at first I was just checking on you, but now, after hearing your outfit situation, I think I have an idea" He smirked playfully, standing up as he grabbed your drink off of your vanity walking over to your outfits before raising his eyebrows “ready?” He asked, trying to hide his smile as you giggled evilly, knowing this was going to piss your manager off “do ittt!” You shouted watching as he pretended to trip in order to spill your drink on your performing outfits “oh nooo! You can’t wear them anymore!” He said sarcastically, laughing, watching as you giggled loudly standing up “I guess I’ll just have to wear my spare then" You laughed playfully, getting your spare outfit, laying it over the back of the couch, smiling as Seung Hyun set the cup back down turning to face you.

"That was really sweet" You smiled softly, nudging his arm gently as you nodded towards the speaker that sat installed in the ceiling as it chimed in to let you know they were calling someone on stage for rehearsals "BigBang members, please make your way to the stage" The speaker said, before repeating the phrase one more time, Seung Hyun smiling sadly at you "See you later?" He asked softly, you giggled a bit, acting like you were thinking hard "I don't know...I don't normally let fans in my dressing rooms" You giggled softly, Seung Hyun gasped looking at you in shock "I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Yes, You'll see me later" You giggled softly, holding onto the door as you watched Seung Hyun take a slight step out before looking at you "Got it..and Y/n?...No matter what you wear?..I think you're yeppeo" He whispered softly, smiling softly as you gave him the same confused expression as before "I'm..awesome?" You giggled playfully, watching as he chuckled softly, a blush rising to his cheeks "It means...pretty or beautiful" He replied, doing his best to translate for you, giggling softly you covered your face "See you later, Seung Hyun" You whispered, watching as he waved goodbye, before walking towards stage with his friends.

As you sat on the couch, in your dressing room, you wondered why you were so suddenly drawn to the K-pop star, he was tall, and very attractive, but there was just something else about him. Maybe it was the fact, that everybody in the world was sure that you were full of yourself and had an ego bigger than the universe, but Seung Hyun seemed to see straight through that, seeing you for who you really were. A stuck, insecure, sweet, shy 24 year old, that just wanted to do best for your fans, not worrying about anything other than that. As you tilted your head slightly, you decided to try your best to learn some common lines in Korean, wanting to be able to communicate better with the boys while you're here, especially Seung Hyun. As Seung Hyun finally entered your dressing room again, he laughed, noticing your state, that was the exact same as last time, except your glare was set on your laptop. "Aein? I can't pour a drink on that" He joked playfully, you just let yourself fall back "Well, I'm trying to learn this, but I can't seem to fucking pronounce that" You huffed loudly, handing your laptop over to the taller man, Seung Hyun couldn't contain his blush as he noticed the phrase you had typed out in English, Korean, and the pronunciations for each word. 'You guys did amazing, best rapper I've ever met'

You both ended up sitting there for the rest of the three hours you had before the show started, Seung Hyun helping you learn different phrases in Korean, even some of their songs, so you could follow along with them as they performed. You would all be rushed from the red carpet, straight to performing, you knew you were the last to perform, before you and the boys announced the winners, you both being the biggest names there. As you watched the boys perform, your eyes were trained on Seung Hyun, watching in awe as he moved around the stage, his deep voice echoing through the microphone as he rapped quickly, his eyes catching yours for a moment as he passed. He could feel his heart flutter whenever he caught your gaze, seeing how amazed you looked, while only looking at him. As you swapped places, and did your set, you smiled at Seung Hyun, looking at him, any chance you got as your manager was silently raging from the side of the stage at your outfit change. As your performance ended, and you all wrapped up the awards show, you smiled at Seung Hyun "Going back home, Aein?" You smiled, proud of yourself for properly pronouncing the nickname, Seung Hyun gave you a similar proud smile "That was perfect! And yea...we are" He whispered softly, grabbing your hands gently, moving to bid you a farewell before you were quick to wrap your arms around him in a hug. "Thank you for helping me tonight, Seung Hyun, You're a good person, and I hope I get the chance to see you again" You whispered, squeezing him slightly as he hugged you back "Anytime, Aein, Seriously, I'm sure I can spill a lot more drinks, especially if it means more of the Y/n, I saw tonight. You seemed so happy, about everything" He smiled playfully, rubbing your back before pulling away, you smiled a bit rocking on your feet, never had you ever had someone read you so well, so quickly, yet here Seung Hyun was, reading you like every secret and insecurity was exposed for him to see, without you ever saying a word.

"I'm always happy to perform.. I just, Don't want to show off my body in order to feel loved and accepted" You shrugged softly before sighing "But, that's show-biz, is it not?" You joked, watching as Seung Hyun sighed softly "There are people who love and accept you for exactly who you are, Y/n, you've just got to hold out and wait" He whispered, cupping your cheek gently before giving you a soft smile "I had my manager contact your manager, so you should be getting my number soon" He smiled softly, bidding you one last goodbye before his manager pulled him away so they could make their flight back home. Seung Hyun could feel his heart drop, and his chest feel heavier as he walked away, he wanted to stay with you longer, just a few hours, wasn't enough for him, he wanted to hear you talk forever, learn everything about you. As he went to get into the car they had to take them to the airport, you stopped him for one last hug "Be safe.. Okay?" You whispered, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away "I will, Aein, just for you" He whispered, smiling as he watched you covered your blush quickly with your hands, giggling softly, you swatted at his arm gently "Are you flirting with me?" You giggled as he climbed into the car "Only if you want me too" Seung Hyun joked playfully, you just giggled loudly, shaking your head playfully as you sighed "You're too cute, Seung Hyun, message me whenever you land, please?" You whispered, standing back so the other boys could file into the car "I will, Aein, get inside before you freeze" He replied sweetly, his tone slightly demanding as you shivered from the chilly fall breeze. Nodding as you laughed softly, moving back towards the doors, waving the boys goodbye as the car pulled away.

"You like him!~" Your assistant sang out, approaching from behind, you just blushed brightly as you turned around "He's so charming! It's like he knows me without knowing me! He even invited me to an art show in a few months!" You squealed excitedly, your assistant squealing with you, happy to see you this excited again, especially since your off year started. "Ooo~ Y/n L/n and K-Pop Idol, T.O.P, I like it" Your manager cheered as he approached "Noo! Keep your grimy little PR fingers away from him! Private life things!" You groaned, watching as he laughed as your actions "Honey nothing is a private life in the Music industry" He replied, causing your assistant and you both to roll your eyes, your assistant quick to step forward "Christopher, So help me, if you interfere with this, or ruin it for our girl, I will kill you, sound good?" She threatened lowly, you nodded your head as he glanced at you, sighing as he sent over a forwarded message of Seung Hyun's number "There, if anything I helped her" He sassed, you just giggled excitedly, pulling your phone out, knowing exactly what he meant as you immediately started to message your new friend, and growing crush.

'Hey! <3 It's Y/n, It's going to be about 10k for those outfits :)'

'10K!? What were they made out of?'

'I'm kidding! <33 Miss you already, bestie, hanging out isn't fun whenever you're not here'

'Aww Aein, you're too kind <3'

You giggled reading his message, carrying your phone close to your chest as you made your way out to the car, your driver taking you back home as you patiently waited for a message from Seung Hyun saying he landed. Excited to hear from again, even if it was just through text messages, he still managed to make you feel more seen than everybody ever has.

--

What do you think lovelies? <333 I'm definitely doing a part two because this is just too cute! <3 Excited to hear from you!!

--

Taglist!!!

@onyxmango

@ag02212023

@acehasmyheart

@mitchko11

@learninglinesintherainn

@seunghyunwifey

@alexandralibbre

@jajabro

@heartsforseo

@lilou-0401

@maenoakasuna

@ericityyy

@alexandralibbre

@jajabro

@heartsforseo

@frangiipanii

@seunghyunwifey

@sturnioloslut-b

@isssaaaa2111

@goodnight-n-go-home

@skzdreamz

@enhasrii

@sunhyeswife

@ilovethe141

@saraaisfree

@cheese10001

@sassyyoyo

@live-laugh-lovef1

@c1delight

[lazysoulwriter]

little clues in polish. - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ content: pure fluff, soft launch fun, social media/fan speculation, teasing, affection, subtle intimacy.

---

It starts with a star.

Just one. A tiny, silver thing sitting on Pedro’s pinky nail, barely the size of a freckle. You almost miss it entirely until he slides into the booth beside you at the little diner your friends frequent post-premiere.

Your hand is on the table already, freshly manicured — a galaxy theme this time. Deep navy blue with scattered constellations, starbursts on every nail, some shimmer catching the light. He sees it, nudges your elbow, and grins when you finally catch the match.

“You noticed,” he says, like it’s nothing. Like his heart’s not beating wildly because he picked that little star with you in mind.

You smile. “It’s cute.”

He shrugs. “Felt right.”

And that’s how it begins.

No Instagram stories. No red carpet hand-holding. Just a trail of quiet matching details — fingerprints of affection only the two of you know to look for.

You start getting playful with it.

He shows up to a press junket with a thin line of gold wrapping the tip of his thumb — the same gold that outlines the marble design on your nails in a photo you'd posted earlier that day. Fans notice.

“Okay but why is Pedro’s nail giving the same vibes as [Y/N]’s???” “Matching... again?? Coincidence or coded??” “Is this… a nail soft launch?????”

Threads start popping up. Nail art theories. Timelines. People making little charts with circles and arrows, zooming in on blurry pap pics where you’re both walking five steps apart — but your nail colors are suspiciously complementary.

Pedro finds them one night while you're curled up on his couch, legs over his lap, popcorn between you. He scrolls through the fan theories, chuckling, eyes gleaming.

“They’re obsessed,” he says. “They think I’m trying to launch you like a Marvel movie.”

You snort. “Soft-launch you like a Sephora collab.”

He grins. “You are my favorite limited edition.”

He kisses you after that — slow, sweet. Like he doesn’t mind the build-up. Like he’s savoring the soft part before it gets loud.

The first time it gets close to loud is when you go to an awards afterparty. You’ve kept it lowkey, arriving separately. But you're both seated together inside, and your nails — well. There’s no denying it now.

You’re wearing pink. Pale, glossy, with tiny white hearts on every nail.

Pedro’s hand wraps around his drink, and there it is again — the same heart, tucked neatly onto his ring finger. A different base color, sure. Matte instead of glossy. But unmistakably a match.

The internet explodes.

You scroll through the tweets later with a giggle, curled into his chest. He watches you with that sleepy smile — like he’s been waiting for this moment. Like he’d match your nails a hundred more times if it meant he got to hold you like this.

“You know,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple, “if they’re gonna analyze our hands so much, might as well give them something to really talk about.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

He shrugs. “Thinking next set — matching and we post them. Together.”

You blink. “A full launch?”

He kisses your shoulder. “Let’s give ‘em a reason to finally stop guessing.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[flemingology]

business casual ─ alexia putellas x reader

in which: alexia dresses up the ballon d'or

warnings: nothing, slightly suggestive at the end

wc: 1.9K

a/n: wrote this in an hour or two. saw alexia's look and couldn't resist it lol. first piece for her! hope you enjoy :)

Ballon d'Or night. One of the most anticipated nights of the year. Especially for your girlfriend. Having won two of the awards herself, she was well acquainted with the prestige that came with the event.

Just like last year, though, the ceremony took place right in the middle of Alexia's international break. She'd cursed the people in charge for the ridiculous planning last year, but seemingly it hadn't gone any better this time around. Flying out from their national camp wasn't the most ideal situation, but Alexia thanked her lucky stars that the RFEF were quite loose around the whole ordeal – allowing her and her national teammates the time and space to fly over to Paris.

Despite her best efforts, Alexia knew she wasn't going to win it this year. She'd put her bets on Aitana or Caroline, who both had an incredibly year of football under their belt. The Spanish midfielder, who had still been struggling with niggles throughout the past season, wasn't tipped as one of the favorites for the award this year. Not that she minded, though. She'd won the award twice and was more than happy for her teammates to be showered in the praise that they deserved. All in all, Alexia always enjoyed her nights at the ceremony, winning an award or not.

Just like every year, though, the Spaniard wasn't planning on giving you any insight on what she was going to wear. Everybody knew that one of the big things about the Ballon d'Or – footballers and awards aside – was all about the stars rocking up the red carpet in quite the glamorous outfits. Alexia had tried to convince you a couple times to come with her to Paris, but you weren't the one for all the media attention. You much rather stayed on your couch back in Barcelona, watching the live stream like a hawk, attentively eyeing the arriving taxis to try and catch a glimpse of your girlfriend.

A quick glance at your watch told you the time was nearing 7, so you knew she had to be about done with the preparations of her look. You decided to send her a text.

To: Amor ❤️ "Go have a good time tonight, baby. Orgulloso de ti. I love you ❤️"

You knew how much Alexia adored it when you mixed your usual English with some Spanish, forever a sucker for you speaking her mother tongue. You'd gone out of your way to try and master the language, knowing how much it meant to her if you'd be able to communicate to the part of her family that didn't know the English language as well as she did. You hadn't anticipated a text back at all, but you were pleasantly surprised at the buzz of your phone a couple moments later.

From: Amor ❤️"Eres el mejor. Thinking about you. I'll call you later 😘"

A little over an hour had passed when Alexia finally emerged on the livestream. You were caught up with cooking dinner, your laptop stood on the counter behind you while you were prepping your vegetables. You turned around, planning to throw the diced tomatoes in a different bowl, but your actions got cut short when you caught a glimpse of your girlfriend on the screen.

"My God," you breathed out silently. Vegetables completely forgotten about, you quickly put your cutting board back down and turned your full attention towards your laptop. She was wearing a striped, charcoal-colored pair of trousers, combined with nothing but a suit vest that tied at her waist. The vest showed the perfect amount of cleavage and chest, leaving just enough to the imagination. She wasn't wearing loads of make-up, but it was visible, just as you knew she liked it. Her hair was perfectly slicked back into a bun, her ears adorning a pair of sparkling earrings that perfectly accentuated the simplicity of the look. She looked incredible. You weren't expecting anything less, but she never failed to take your breath away in moments like these.

You watched her pose for the cameras on the red carpet, accompanied by all her Barcelona teammates, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from her. Now it was your turn to scold the decision to hold the event during international break, mourning the opportunity for her to come home to you and you to admire her look in the flesh. Before long, the camera panned away from her and caught a bunch of new arrivals, which you took as your cue to try and continue your dinner preparations.

As much as you were distracted by her and her look, and she clouded your thoughts at any given moment, you managed to cook yourself a meal. The ceremony well underway by now, you plopped down on the couch and watched the rest. Barcelona were crowned as Team of the Year, Alexia receiving the award in name of her team. You decided to try your luck and send the Spaniard another text. You knew she didn't keep her phone on her during events like these, but maybe you'd get lucky and get a response from her within a couple hours when she was in her hotel room.

To: Amor ❤️ "Ale, you look amazing. You've outdone yourself. I'm so in love with you. Me dejas sin aliento cada vez."

As the night went on, the camera kept panning towards your girlfriend. As one of the biggest stars in the room, it was expected for her to have quite some time on air, but it was starting to have its toll on you. Your girlfriend looked incredible but here you were, at home, hours away from your lover. You wanted nothing more than to be there with her, to be able to see her after the ceremony and really show her how much you liked her outfit.

A dull ache started forming between your legs and you knew it was only going to get worse throughout the evening. Without the prospect of having your girlfriend around, you knew it was going to be a long night.

Before long, the ceremony ended and you decided to make your way upstairs. It was quite late already, the event stretching out into the late hours of the night, so you decided it would be best for you to try and get some rest before Alexia inevitably called you up deeper in the night.

You'd managed to get a couple hours of sleep before your body got abruptly woken by the shrill noice of Alexia's ringtone blaring through your bedroom. You had put your volume to the maximum, knowing you were quite the deep sleeper, and you were glad that it had worked. You palmed your nightstand with one eye open looking for your phone, nearly declining her call before you managed to get it with you on the mattress, accepting her call and putting her on speaker.

"Hola, amor," Alexia quipped, her voice still quite energetic despite the late hour she called at. You glanced at the clock on your night stand, reading 1:36am. "Hi, baby," you replied, a small smile creeping up your face upon hearing the voice of your girlfriend. "How are you?"

"Mhm, good. Thank you. How are you?" you heard rustling in the background, assuming she was getting into bed. "Good. A little tired, though", you didn't want to make Alexia feel bad but her response seemed like you did. "Lo siento, amor. Do you want me to let you sleep? I know it's late," you shook your head at that but quickly verbally disagreed, realizing she couldn't see you through the phone. "No, no. I've missed you and I'm glad I'm speaking to you."

"Did you watch?" a slight chuckle escaped your lips, Alexia's question almost felt like mockery. "Of course I did, Ale. You never let me know what you're going to wear beforehand, so I have to find out through the stream!"

You didn't have to see her face to know that she had a shit-eating grin on her face now. "Mhm, I guess you're right. What did you think?" you rolled your eyes as a slight smile tugged on the corner of your lips. "What did I think? I told you through text, no?" you decided you could tease her a little before giving her what she wanted.

You heard a faint groan on the other side of the call. "Si, you did."

"Kidding, bébé. You looked perfect, honestly. You know how much I love it when you wear a suit vest. It accentuates your chest perfectly," you finished, your mind already thinking back about how good your girlfriend looked in her outfit tonight. "I knew you'd like it. Nice surprise?" you thought about how the way she looked left a throbbing between your legs throughout the rest of the night. "Very nice surprise. Just a shame that I can't get to show you just how much I appreciated the way you looked tonight."

Alexia hummed, an amused lilt seeping through. "Anything specific on your mind?" you didn't know how to approach this, not knowing whether Alexia was feeling a change of mood at this time of the night. "Well, let's say that you had me thinking about all the things I would do to you if you'd let me take that suit off you," Alexia let out a deep breath. "Dios mio, amor. You know there's nothing I would've wanted more than to come home to you tonight and let you take it off me."

Alexia's words did nothing to soothe the aching between your legs, if anything it only spurred you on further. "Ale," you started, taking a deep breath trying to ground yourself. "You have to stop right now," you tried to sound deterministic. "Why?" she quipped back, clearly enjoying the way she was working you up. "Because I'm already worked up, and you're not here, so you can't do anything about it. If I want to be able to get some sleep later, you need to turn it down a little."

"Who says I can't help you?" Alexia's words were spoken softly, almost as if she was unsure about what she was proposing. You frowned before speaking up. "Hmm? What do you mean?" a couple moments passed before the Spaniard spoke again. "I don't know, maybe we could be on the phone while you,..." Alexia trailed off, but you remained silent, wanting her to voice what she wanted. "...while you take care of what I started."

Your cheeks turned a deeper shade of red at the proposition she just made. "You want to talk me through it... over the phone?" you tried, wanting to make sure that the both of you were on the same page. "Sí, si quieres?"

"Yeah," you breathed out nervously, feeling the thrill of the newness of the situation. You and Alexia hadn't done anything like this before. You'd shared a couple pictures and videos with each other while the midfielder was at camp, trying to bridge the couple weeks that she was away, but you had never thought about phone sex. It wasn't something that had been brought up yet and you hadn't deemed it as something either of you two needed, the both of you more than satisfied with your sex life at was, but you couldn't deny the pang of arousal that shot towards your core every time you thought about Alexia talking you through your orgasm over the phone.

"Yeah, I want this." "Perfecto, corazón. Now spread your legs and let me make you feel good."

[skinnyhmhas]

deserved ᮫࣭﹆ֹ b.e

fluff & iheart radio awards btw guys i haven't written anything in a long time so sorry if it's horrible

you could spend all afternoon writing about what your girlfriend's last album had done emotionally to everyone, but you'd never be able to finish. from the moment they told you that you would be able to present her with the award for album of the year, you could do nothing but try to keep your mouth shut and not say a word to billie.

you wrote your words to present to her in an old notebook, which you knew billie wouldn't see. it took you an entire night; it was so difficult to put all that majesty into simple words.

on the day of the ceremony you wore a simple black dress, with a chain elegantly decorating your neck. your girlfriend, on the other hand, wore the complete opposite, baggy and comfortable clothing, yet she wore a small suit to sing.

"you're going to do fantastic!" you exclaimed to her, excited to hear her sing wildflower.

billie's performance was fantastic, it was a true demonstration that no matter if she took home an award or not, nothing would change the fact that this woman touched souls deeply. she kissed your lips, standing on her tiptoes as she left the stage and you grabbed her hand to run off and get to her dressing room.

"how can you run in heels!?" she raised her voice so you could hear her, you both laughed.

"i have superpowers, baby."

you joked. you and billie entered the dressing room, quickly changing billie's clothes as they paused and named other winners. you two left the room kissing, returning to the event. you two sat next to maggie, patrick, claudia, and finneas. the table was filled with compliments for billie and finneas, emphasizing how talented they were. a member of the event staff came to you; it was your turn to speak.

"wait, babe! where are you going?" your girlfriend asked quickly, almost standing to follow you.

"i'll be right back, bils. stay here." you smiled reassuringly.

billie let go of your hand and you walked backstage. there were only two minutes left until you came out and announced the winner of album of the year.

"okay, go." said a robust man, guiding you to the stage.

you stood there, the lights came on, and you noticed billie's surprised look. you smiled with foreknowledge. the applause rose when they saw your recognized figure.

"f'me hit me hard and soft is more than just an album. is the album of the year, the one of the best created in the entired history of music. it moves you like nothing else ever done, it resonates in your soul and helps you heal it. it's a work of art that doesn't usually receive the praise it deserves because there are no words to describe the wonderful majesty it offers, it is ineffable."

everyone listens to your words, some people nodding, others with their hands on their chest, eyes full of tears and smiles of confirmation.

but billie's eyes were glued to your body, listening to every word you said. the words traveled through her veins, reaching her heart and piercing her soul. her eyes became teary. her lips pouted, turning to look at finneas and holding his hand.

"and i have the good luck to know the two people who made this album possible. a talented young man who adds color to everything he touches, finneas." everyone applauded once more. "and also to the most perfectly real and human soul, the most beautiful girl in the world billie eilish."

billie's trembling hands made her let go of finneas's hands, biting her lip to keep her tears from falling.

"thank you for making our album of the year: hit me hard and soft."

now they stood up from their seats, the award in their hands, and thousands of people cheering all over the place. they came to the stage, still not believing what was happening. finneas was the first to hug you, whispering a small "thank you."

now your girlfriend, whimpering a little at your kind words, hugged you by the waist, burying her head in your chest, jumping with excitement.

"you made me cry like a fucking bitch." you both laughed. "i love you, mama."

"i love you more, love." it was the last thing you said to billie, now in front of the microphone and with eyes full of tears, she thanked all the people who were in the process of making the album along with finneas.

you stood to the side of the stage, admiring how beautiful billie looked, as always, and you couldn't wipe the smile off your face.

"and you!" she turned around, looking at you with a smile. "you're like fucking amazing, you're beautiful, and i can't believe i'm with you—it's like, whoa. you know?"

the whole place laughed at billie's nervousness, her cheeks red and her words escaping her lips.

"okay, sorry. i love you. i love you all, bye!"

she came back to your side, hugging you very excited. finneas joined in the hug, and the three of you happily walked off the stage.

after a few moments and when you were all in your places at the table, everyone was congratulating billie, but she kept a hand on yours, squeezing it whenever she needed to relax. on the way home, in her car, she couldn't help but look at you when the traffic light turned red.

"did you really write all that for me and finn?" her voice was soft, almost unwilling to get her hopes up.

she turned to look at you once more, placing her hand on your lap, looking at you with those eyes that expressed love and gratitude.

"yes, of course baby." you responded instantly.

"you're so gorgeous, my girl." she kissed your shoulder.

"yours." you whispered.

and the traffic light was now green.

[twilightsumu]

drunk running | s. geto

chapter three: sex money feelings die

synopsis: yn ln and suguru geto reunite after three years.

warnings/genre: smau, modern au, alcohol use, cursing, geto being down bad, gojo being an instigator, arson (joke), and me writing 4k+ words (sorry)

a/n: i’ll stfu one day, just not today apparently. #yearneroftheyear sugurito geto 🥇

suguru’s back is leaning on the vibrating wall. pressing his full weight into it, trying to become one with the establishment. no need to do anything else but watch. possibly listen, but the music is too loud and he is sure he’s heard gojo tell every person that came in that today is his birthday.. as if no one is aware that you’re at his birthday party. 

the beer in his hand is lukewarm at best. it was placed in his hand possibly an hour ago. just being used as a placeholder. something else for his eyes to watch so that he could stop watching the door. stop eyeing every person who walks in, doing quick scans to find the face he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to see. 

did you grow your hair out? do you still have the same laugh? did you go through your ‘adult’ puberty and grow that extra inch you would complain about back in college? is gojo sure that you’re coming? and are you thinking of him as much as he is thinking of you? 

and because suguru forgot that the universe sometimes listens to him so intently. like a mother listens to their son. the front door of the dark club room opens and along with a flutter of snowflakes, the chilling wind from outside, and the quiet of a winter filled night — your face is amongst the group entering. 

the sounds stop, his hands feel all sweaty, and it is becoming uncomfortably cramped in here. and he’s pretty sure the flickering lights in the club shine on you as if a personal spotlight. like you're walking up to get an award:

here’s to the girl who even after three years runs marathons in suguru geto’s mind. 

gojo runs to your group, and all suguru could do at the moment is watch. wishing he could find the strength to move his legs. but he isn't sure if he will use them to run out the club and finally wipe his hands of the situation or run to you. 

nanami and you are walking behind shoko. nanami most likely complaining about something to you, causing you to laugh. and despite basically hiding from you, the music being way too loud, and his heart possibly beating harder, he hears it. and he wants to kiss it out of you and inject it into his body so that he’ll never forget it. as if he ever would. 

as you guys continue to walk in, your eyes search the room and suguru subconsciously leans deeper into the wall. hoping it would swallow him whole. hyper aware of his movements, wanting the plaster to eat them so that they won’t be thrown into your line of vision. at least not at the moment. 

a mischievous smile appears on your face and it immediately reminds him of college. the good times, before suguru didn’t know how to shut up. 

your eyes haven’t changed. they’re still wide and filled with a playful tint. the color so ingrained in his head, they seem like his memories made sure to never forget a thing about you. 

your eyes are sweeping through the faces surrounding them, not necessarily looking for anyone, just calculating what’s in front of you. taking your sweet time to take everything in. 

with how stupid and self deprecating it may be, he realizes he’ll wait forever for your eyes to sweep on to him. even if it’s a fluttering look away. even if you stare so hard, everything he’s been holding on to would be given to you. like a mugger mugging an old lady. easy, and most definitely cruel. 

your hair has gotten longer. waving in the middle of your back. the color looks the same, maybe even brighter since the memories he has of them seemed to have dulled over time. dulling your hair color, your laugh, even the way your hand feels on his back. dulling everything but your eyes.

and maybe just maybe, the universe listened to you. because you seem taller. that one inch being given to you like a gift, one that he thinks you maybe didn’t deserve. or maybe he is just being harsh. 

“where is the bathroom suguru?” he hears someone yell from the right side of him and he almost wants to strangle and kiss the person at the same time. thank the person for causing him to take his eyes off you but also hate them for messing with his moment. 

he throws his thumb behind him. forgetting that he wall is not actually absorbing his movements, he almost curses himself. especially when he realizes that gojo has pointed him out, his best friend’s long limp pointed towards his body being one with the wall. shoko, nanami, and your stare on him. he almost feels like crawling out of his skin. 

and he swears he’s getting the same treatment that you did when you walked in. the club lights stay on him a little longer than they are supposed to. every sound that was filling the room has stopped (this isn’t true). your eyes haven’t left him and he feels the hands of the wall pushing him to get his legs moving. he just isn't sure if the wall is pushing him to the front door. or to the pit in front of him, the one that consists of your stare that hasn't left him and the softest hint of your smile. 

and just like the feelings he had for the guy that caused him to break his vow of moving as little as possible — suguru doesn’t know if he should block gojo on every social media platform and not talk to him for three weeks or throw him a bigger party next week. of course gojo was going to be the one to seek him out. instead of paying attention to where your eyes were landing, suguru should’ve paid attention to his best friend. 

and because suguru geto is a weak man (when it comes to you), or possibly the strongest — depends on who you ask. and he is aware that the next thing gojo would do is bring you to his wall of refuge, he walks towards the pit. and he isn't sure if its the magnetic pull that he is so sure flows between the two of you, the one that you ignore. or gojo’s still floating arm being his life line as he trudges forward. 

as he comes closer, haibara has now joined the group. multiple bodies of the partygoers bumping into him as he squeezes into the circle you guys have created right in the middle of the busy party. 

he’s standing directly across from you, rubbing shoulders with his roommates. hoping and praying that the contact of them could ground him like the wall did back there. 

your eyes aren’t on him anymore. you’re looking at shoko as she leans in to tell you something. and when you move your lips to respond, he tries to block out the music so that he could hear your voice. 

“look who it is,” gojo leans into him to whisper over the music. suguru rolls his eyes and holds his hand back so that he wouldn’t use it to punch gojo. not here, at his birthday party. 

“geto, hey!” shoko calls out once she realizes he joined. she reaches over to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. welcoming and solid. 

“hey,” suguru yells over the music into the group. nanami sends him a polite smile and light nod, nanami’s eyes quickly averting from him to you. 

you’re standing by your friends. right in the middle of them. suguru almost wants to make himself believe that you’re using them to ground yourself too. 

he knows that isn’t true. you’re always cool under pressure. you’re most likely under zero pressure right now. it’s just a regular day for you, seeing someone you used to know. 

you look at him, simple and straight. he can’t read where you’re at and he feels like he’s being watched by a hawk and he is scurrying to find shelter. 

your hands folded in front of you. as if you were waiting for your chai latte at the cafe by the science hall. 

“so,” gojo yells, his eyes wide and suguru could just tell he’s about to do something so fucking ridiculous. even with the warning, because he knows his best friend, he’s still on edge for what it may be. 

“shoko, come with me,” gojo huffs, grabbing shoko’s arm as she’s standing closer to him. “i will show you the bar.” 

as he starts to drag her away, the circle inventively becomes smaller. the partygoers, or that fucking magnetic pull pushing the circle in.

you’re now standing next to him and he’s trying his hardest to ignore the way he just wants to link his hand into yours. the way he wants to turn to you and just study you after these three years. but he stays looking down at his feet. 

“nanami, i’ll take you to the bar as well,” haibara yells. and he doesn’t have to look up to know that they’re gone. your presence, with a mix of the pushy partygoers are the only ones near him. 

“hi, yn,” suguru swallows the lump in his throat. and because he’s strong and the wall pushed him here for a reason, and he has to find some middle ground from this. because, if not he’s going to kill his best friend in the middle of his own birthday party.

he moves his eyes from the floor and on to yours. 

your eyes are already on him. your glance is soft and confident. like you’re reading everything happening in his mind just from his body language alone. 

“hi, geto,” he tries to ignore how foreign his last name sounds coming from your lips. he almost wants to turn away and get sucked into the wall. 

but the sound of your voice makes him stay put. he wants to hear it some more. wants to create a playlist of the words you tell him tonight to replace the ones he’s been listening to for the last three years. 

he leans a little lower. your perfume filling his air stream. it's not the same one that used to live on his bedsheets, even after you guys stopped seeing each other. 

it’s cleaner, mature. it’s intoxicating. he wonders if it’ll be weird if he asks you which perfume you’re wearing so that he could buy a bottle of it tomorrow. just to see if the smell still compares when it isn’t on you. 

“how are you?” 

“great, thanks,” you reply. your voice is straightforward, but there’s a hint of something he can’t read yet. like you want more to escape, but like him you’re not sure how much you could let seek through. 

“how are you? long time no speak,” you hum. and as if on purpose, you don’t speak louder than you have too. causing suguru to lean in a little more so that he could hear you better. 

suguru chooses to ignore the little dig, stuffing one of his empty hands into his pocket. and looking you over. 

under his stare, you stare back. still confident as ever. still so beautiful. 

“i’m doing okay,” suguru shrugs, quickly looking away. he’s not sure himself if he’s lying so he doesn’t want to give you space to figure it out before him. 

you lean back a bit, your eyes assessing his face. suguru starts to feel a little hot under your stare and he thinks back to the wall. how comfortable it was. how safe it would be right now. 

“glad to know your brooding is still in top shape,” you send a teasing grin, like you’re testing the waters. just to see how much you can take. how much of suguru he’ll be willing to give you. 

as if suguru wouldn’t give you all of him. 

“i tried to keep it sharp,” he jokes back. “in case you showed up and asked for it,” he chuckles. from the corner of his eye, he watches you watch him. 

and you laugh. a breathy laugh that finds its way into his bones and he wants to stay planted right here. erase the last three years from his mind and yours. fight the urge of saying those stupid three words. and maybe just maybe he would’ve heard this laugh whenever he was lucky enough to pull it out of you. 

still smiling up at him, he feels a smile creep onto his face as well. and he could just imagine how fucking stupid gojo looks if he’s watching them right now. 

“i was worried, so good to know,” you shrug back. your eyes still lighten by your laughter. he wants to hear it again. he wants to live in it. 

“no need to be worried about me,” the hand that was in his pocket leaves and runs through his hair. he watches your eyes follow his hand and he hides a smile. 

“satoru would find some way to make sure i’m okay.” 

you laugh again and he wants to run to the dj and tell him to record it and email it to him later. 

“i’m sure of that,” you look over your shoulder, as if looking for him. suguru immediately regrets bringing him up because he wants your full undivided attention. even if it makes him a little unnerved. 

you both stand there. no awkwardness creeping around the sound of music dancing around your heads. just an air of unknowing pushing against your bodies like the partygoers pushing to get around you both. 

“do you want a drink?” he points his chin down to the beer that he almost forgot was still in his hand. you turned back towards him. your eyes on the room temperature beer in his hand as if you was just realizing it was there. 

“i could get my own,” you say, a flirty smile peeking at the corner of your lips. a smile that he has been at the receiving end of years ago. the one he misses. the one that he believes is the gift that satoru was talking about giving him. 

“and what is it going to be? a tequila redbull?” suguru jokes while he ignores how cringey it is that he’s giving you insight into how much he remembers about you. like he’s giving you a flashlight that you’re going push into his brain, giving you full access to the yn ln file cabinet in there. 

“no,” you smile, a genuine one. but instead of it being flirty, or being followed with a laugh — it’s almost sorry. “a lot has changed in three years huh,” you finish. and you turn your back to walk towards the bar. 

with a final look over your shoulder, as if you’re waiting to see if he’ll follow. you smile again before swimming in the partygoers to make it to the bar. 

suguru takes a swig of the warm beer and debates if he should head back to the wall or follow you. like he knows that he wants too.

you instantly regret not listening to nanami earlier about bringing a jacket. the chill in the winter air is brutal, the few drinks you had were not doing their job to bring some warmth into your shivering body. and then to make it even worse, the light flurries of snow have turned into aggressive freezing rain. 

you internally groan, wrapping your arms around yourself a little tighter and squeezing under the club's awning to find some refuge from the crying sky, rain still finding its way to splatter on you. goosebumps liter your arm and you almost curse at the sky for once again giving you more reason to tell nanami that he was right. 

“fucking rain,” you mutter. and you almost feel stupid — one, getting mad at the rain. two, talking to yourself in said rain. 

but saying that you don’t feel like yourself would be a lie. with only two glasses of red wine dancing in your bloodstream and the ghost of geto’s stare still etched into your skin, you feel like you’re going crazy. like you haven’t had time to find your balance since stepping into this party. 

and you have to tell nanami that’s he’s correct for a second fucking time because maybe, just maybe he was correct when saying all the men you hooked up with after looks like geto. 

actually, you’ll keep that to yourself. because that’ll open another conversation you don’t want to be pulled into. and a kento nanami that’s proven correct is the most annoying kento nanami the earth could conjure. lovingly of course. 

to ignore your thoughts and the cold biting you in the ass, you look back at your phone. 

toji fushiguro (4.3 stars) 

toyota camry hybrid, (D1LF)

7 minutes away 

you sigh, ignoring the sound of the door opening behind you and closing your eyes. you did appreciate the warmth that slipped out and danced on your back. 

but then you don’t feel rain anymore. and you feel the warmth and presence from the only person that makes the pit of your stomach feel all fuzzy.

“it was good to see you,” his voice cuts through the sound of the rain pelting on the concrete in front of you. 

you open your eyes, unwillingly of course (a lie). and a red umbrella is being held over your head by suguru geto himself. 

he’s looking out at the street in front of you. as if he knows that toji fushiguro is picking you up and he’s on lookout for his car. 

“hm, was it really?” you hum, your eyes tracing his jawline. 

“it’s always good to see you,” he says and his voice is genuine. it’s kind. 

unlike his voice the last time you guys talked. and for some reason, this makes you a little angry. 

“we both know that’s not true, geto,” you roll your eyes, now looking out at the street too. you wrap your arms around yourself some more. this time out of protectiveness, since geto is sharing his warmth by being so close to you right now. 

“stop calling me that,” he huffs, no real annoyance swimming in his voice. you look up at him and there your eyes finally meet. 

a cold chill sweeps by, bringing raindrops so hard that they sound like stones hitting the umbrella. his cologne swims with the breeze and it hugs you so tightly you can’t help but let out a little sigh. 

“geto sounds weird coming from you.” he runs his hand not holding the umbrella through his hair and the movement is so slow and inviting all you could do is stare. 

“that’s your name, no?” you chuckle, and you ignore how he slightly leans more into you. like he’s dying to know where the chuckle comes from within your body. 

“you know you don’t call me that,” he hums. his shoulder is brushing against yours and you almost step away but that means you won’t be protected by his warmth or the umbrella he’s holding. you stay put. 

“i don’t call you anything.”

and because toji fushiguro most likely knew this conversation was getting a little too serious for your liking, his car pulled up. honking a few times to get your attention. 

“this is me,” you say, walking from under his umbrella. sending him a light wave as you walk away from him. 

but one second under the rain and once again you’re covered. geto matching his steps with yours, keeping the red umbrella over your head. his own head getting pelted with raindrops. the drops effortlessly making patterns on his shirt. 

“you don’t have to walk me to my uber,” you say, ignoring how you like the sound of his footsteps with yours. your steps, his steps, the stone size raindrops, and toji’s engine humming. 

“i want to,” he hums. his empty hand finding its way into his pocket. 

“well, thank you,” you watch his smile grow from the corner of your eye and you want to smile too. 

you're opening the car door, your back to him as you greet toji and relish in the warmth of the heater from his car. 

“yn, it was nice to see you.” your head snaps back and geto is staring at you so intently, you're sure your driver could feel it too. 

“maybe we could see each other again soon?” 

“with or without clothes on?” the joke flies out of your mouth before you even had a chance to think it through. you silently (this time) curse at yourself for not thinking straight.

you never felt so unnerved before and you need to get it the fuck together. 

“with,” he says, smiling at you. once again, a genuine smile. but one that tells you that he caught on to the joke. he probably thought about it too. 

“because we’re friends.” his voice is nervous, and you almost believe that if he could he probably would have taken it back. 

with your body halfway into the car again, you pause at the statement. you want to turn around and check his temperature, with his face in your hands. try to figure out what the hell is his deal. 

toji lets out a grunt. it's impatient and you resist the urge to jump out, shut his door and let him drive away. so that you could stay here. with suguru geto. 

“well, my number is the same,” you say as you fully get into the car. the umbrella is still not over his own head, but over the spot you were just walking. as if he’s holding space for your body. as if he too knows you want to stay here, with him. 

“good night suguru,” and the smile he sends you makes you clench your thighs and you almost jump into toji’s lap and drive the car yourself. 

“night yn,” and he shuts the door for you. 

and because you're weak, or an idiot – whichever nanami and shoko would call you after hearing about this in the groupchat; you look out the window as the car turns the corner.

suguru geto still there. the umbrella still over where you stood.

taglist: @re-tired-succubus, @luvvcho, @iluvujt, @smolcooki33, @candy-s72, @starmapz, @shokosbunny, @emlient, @loveyislost, @whatismatildethinkingabout, @shibataimu, @11thlife02, @se-phi-roth, @frootloopscos, @risagichi, @sttaejoon-blog, @vampshxde, @corvid007, @marsavie, @vorfreudevortex

[makingqueerhistory]

Wash Day Diaries

Jamila Rowser, Robyn Smith

Wash Day Diaries tells the story of four best friends--Kim, Tanisha, Davene, and Cookie--through five connected short story comics that follow these young women through the ups and downs of their daily lives in the Bronx. The book takes its title from the wash day experience shared by Black women everywhere of setting aside all plans and responsibilities for a full day of washing, conditioning, and nourishing their hair. Each short story uses hair routines as a window into these four characters' everyday lives and how they care for each other. Jamila Rowser and Robyn Smith originally kickstarted their critically acclaimed, award-winning slice of life mini comic, Wash Day, inspired by Rowser's own wash day ritual and their shared desire to see more comics featuring the daily lived experiences of young Black women. Wash Day Diaries includes an updated, full color version of this original comic--which follows Kim, a 26-year-old woman living in the Bronx--as the book's first chapter and expands into a graphic novel with short stories about these vibrant and relatable new characters. In expanding the story of Kim and her friends, the authors pay tribute to Black sisterhood through portraits of shared, yet deeply personal experiences of Black hair care. From self-care to spilling the tea at an hours-long salon appointment to healing family rifts, the stories are brought to life through beautifully drawn characters and different color palettes reflecting the mood in each story. At times touching, quiet, triumphant, and laugh out loud funny, the stories of Wash Day Diaries pay a loving tribute to Black joy and the resilience of Black women.

(Affiliate link above)

[pazzispizookies]

— — Guarded — —

Hey y’all!!1 Please give live reacts and feedback!!! It inspires me to keep writing if I know that people like it. I love you guys and thank you for reading!!

Pairing: Paige x Azzi

Paige could’ve guessed a few people that could walk onto her team but Azzi fucking Fudd was not one of them.

I mean she was from the DMV why would she be in Minnesota? At Hopkins?

She was viral to say the least, videos of her shifty skills and her perfect copy of Steph curry’s shooting form were everywhere. She had tons of awards and championships and was on multiple USA teams at the age of 16. Not to mention she had dabbled in some modeling for Nike and other sports brands, which Paige may or may not have looked at the photos a few (hundred) times.

But the worst thing about it was that her worries were right, Azzi Fudd was a threat, she was a star, maybe even bigger than Paige.

**

The crowd was still roaring as Azzi walked in, she placed one foot in front of the other smoothly, she looked pretty smooth too; she had her full, long curly hair down-the front braided back, with a small touch of makeup on. She shined in the elertic blue color of the uniform, a perfect contrast against her tan skin.

She was effortlessly beautiful, her smile would make anyone fall in love and propose on the spot.

As she neared the group of baksetball players- her soon to be teammates, her eyes fell on one person in particular.

Paige Beuckers.

She had known about Paige, She was everywhere.

Gatorade’s Athlete of the year, overtime’s star player, viral highlights of her shooting and passing skills.

She was going to be fun to play with, great to play with.

But the look on her face told another story.

It was filled with something cold, unlike the rest of the teams eyes all filled with joy and recognition, they weren’t inviting, even if they were pretty.

Azzi finally took her place in line, she was on the oppisite side of Paige, but she couldn’t figure out why Page wasn’t excited. They were both guards yes, but that didn’t mean they had to fight? They had some plays where two guards were on the court, its not like Azzi being there would cut back on her playing time.

her new coach came to stand next to he whispering something under his breath, “Seems like the people already know you, huh?”

Azzi chuckled lightly as she looked around at the screaming fans, well I guess not fans, but her classmates.

She wasn’t a stranger to people fawning over her, but she didn’t let it get to her. Her parents reminded her everyday that if she’s not a good person, her skills won’t matter in the end.

And that was something she listened too, she was humble and proud of that.

But that didn’t mean sometimes seeing people go crazy over you didn’t feel insanely good.

***

The pep rally continued, starting with men’s soccer and going on women’s. The crowd was still excited but it was clear they cared most about basketball. No one was a national star on the other teams.

But as the football team came to an end, after what felt like 40 years, the crowd started to die out.

There was only 10 minutes of school left so teachers and staff were packing it up, the girls stood there, only now Azzi realized all of them were taking in a huddle, without her.

It stung but it was going to happen, she was new and-

“Azzi? Come over here!” A voice called out from the huddle waving her over.

Relived but still weary Azzi walked over, she always carried herself with confidence even though 90% of the time it was fake.

She walked up to the girls with a smile, “Hi guys, I’m Azzi, its nice to meet you all”

“Girl….we know. I think everyone in the state knows. No wait, everyone who’s heard of basketball knows.” A tall tanned girl said,

Azzi bushed slightly, still keeping her confidence, “Yeah, I guess, but I didn’t have time to go over the roaster…. So I still don’t know most of you..” She trailed off looking around at the girls,

“Oh girl-I gotchu, “ a girl, she’s pretty sure is named Kk says coming up and holding her shoulder, she starts pointing at teammates naming them and giving a silly side fact about them.

Azzi takes it seriously to focus and learn all her teammates, she’s good at reading people so she can almost immediately tell who is a possible friend on the team and whose gonna take some warming up too.

But then Kk points at the very last person, Paige;

“And this is well, I’m sure you know”

“Paige Beuckers, sophomore right?” Azzi cuts in making eye contact with Paige,

Paige wasn’t like anyone on the team, she glowed with confidence, so much so that it almost seemed cocky. But the way she played wasn’t selfish at all, she had the top number of assits every game, so maybe she just didn’t the same mindset as her.

“Yeah, nice to meet you or whatever.” Paige said crossing her arms around her chest,

Well that was rude.

“Paige, stop it right now.” A girl Azzi had learned was named Nika said, she had a heavy accent and only came to the states a year ago, but apparently she was close to Paige by the was the blonde immediately listened.

“Sooooo um anyways girl boo, are you any good? We got practice after this so I guess we finally find out right!” Kk said in a way that made her whole team forget about Paiges comment and focus back on Azzi,

Hopeful that the conversation was changing she turned around to reply when she felt a tap on her shoulder,

“Umm Azzi? Sorry this is weird but we’re such big fans! We watch your highlights with Steph like at least 20 times a day, do you think we could get a picture?” A girl said, speaking for the other 2 along with herself.

This wasn’t uncommon; getting asked for a picture with fans. But she didn’t think it would happen at her school.

Despite this she didn’t wanna be rude, “Yeah sure!”

Azzi leaned in and flashed her dimpled smile, and the girls looked back up and said there thanks as they left,

But as this was happpenig she had heard a scoff from behind her, one she knew could only belong to a certain person on the team,

She turned back around to Kk, “sorry what were you saying?” Azzi asked trying to focus back into the conversation,

As Kk was going to speak again another voice; Nikas, came through from the other side of the group.

“Paige stop it! She was being nice,”

“I just didn’t know she was that famous” Paige sneered, eyeing Azzi to make sure she heard it.

Azzi just pushed down her wave of sadness at this comment, she knew Paige had some anger issues from a few of her viral videos, but this was more, she didn’t even know Azzi and already hated her,

“Just ignore her, she’s cool I promise just yknow, territorial.” Ice said blocking Paige from Azzis view,

“Uh yeah, I get it. Maybe she’ll warm up to me later,” She replied smiling once again no matter how bad she wanted to run away and call her mom,

“Your like…..really nice for yknow-a person like you.” Caroline said looking at Azzi.

“What do you mean?”

“Yknow….like your the number one recruit in your class, just thought you’d be more, ‘im a star!’ But your not, your really sweet from the looks of it,” the tall burnette added sincerely,

Azzis heart skipped a beat at the compliment, feeling like maybe she was going to make some friends on the team,

“Thank you, that’s really kind of you to say.” She said giving a warm smile from her heart.

“See that’s what I mean!! She’s like a freaking princess.” Caroline said gesturing towards Azzi,

“Ohhh your right, Wait!! We should totally call her that! ‘Azzi Fudd; the princess!’” Kk said bouncing yet again, it seemed to be something she did quite often.

“Noooo ‘The People’s Princess!” Yknow cuz the people clearly love her!” Jana interrupted,

The other girls all agreed, making her heart swell,

She felt in place, she felt loved by these girls she had only known for a few minutes.

***

Paige had enough of Azzi already, she didn’t know why she hated her but she just did.

And when people came up to her asking for a picture, she could feel her blood boil. It was so stupid! She was just a basketball player, yeah maybe a good one… but she wasn’t Lebron James.

“Paige…” Nika warned knowlingly,

Nika always knew how to get to Paige, and even though the blonde knew she was being unreasonable, she was too mad to fix it.

“still just annoying, I mean shes a freshman! We haven’t even seen her play yet, what if she sucks.”

“Paige. She’s the Azzi Fudd, you know damn well that girl is going pro.” Nika scoffed.

she was right, and Paige hated it. Azzi was going to be good. But Paige was also good, great even. She didn’t have to worry.

“We’ll see at practice.” She said before turning away walking into the parking lot.

***

Paige sat in her car, she had a good 15 mintues before practice started to be by herself.

She closed the door and plugged in her phone to the aux. Sounds of Frank Ocean’s voice filled the car.

She let out a breath and closed her eyes, but her peace was interrupted by a the sound of a car door opening next to her.

She looks over and saw a jeep, looked like it just came from the dealers. It was black and sleek and expensive.

But she had never seen this car before, and the reason became clear once the door opened again,

Out walked Azzi, her hair now pulled up and her jersey traded for a pair of Nike shorts and a team USA shirt.

Of course Azzi had a perfect car, Paige let out a groan.

A little too loud apparently, because Azzi glanced up at her car. She caught a glimpse of Paige before awkwardly walking away.

“Oh my god kill me” Paige said throwing her head in her hands, embarrassed of being caught starring,

But cmon, Azzi just turned 16 like a week ago, which Paige hated that she knew. And she already had a great new car. She just seemed to have every fucking thing. Talent, fame, scholarships, looks. She was the worst.

Paiges alarm ringed telling her to go back into the gym, she threw off her jersey top, leaving her dark blue Nike compression shirt on and her uniform shorts, she really didn’t care to change, she just wanted this practice over with.

She started to stroll into the gym and sat down on the bleachers to put her shoes on.

“You better now? Azzi’s hitting it off with the team, you should really go talk to her.” Nika said sliding next her, putting her shoes on as well.

“I’d rather not, I come here to practice, not socialize.” Paige said tying her laces a little tighter then normal.

She stood up and walked over to get a ball for some shots before practice started,

“Hey Paige, can you hand me a ball?” a sweet voice said from behind her, one that could only belong to azzi,

Rolling her eyes Paige tossed a ball rough at her, not making eye contact,

“Um thanks,” She said walking away,

Paige let herself watch Azzi walk away for some reason, but she caught a glimpse of something that made her mad all over again.

Azzi was wearing team issued UConn Kobe’s, the ones you find on the players, they probably were only gifted to the players by the coaches.

Paige should have those shoes on, not her.

“your starring bueckers.” Caroline said appearing next to her,

Paige felt a slight blush creep up her neck, “I am not!”

“Mhm sure, just don’t be too much a bitch, the rest of the team wants her here.” She said picking up a ball and dribbling away.

It seemed like everyone loves stupid Fudd already. Great.

**

“ladies, ladies, Huddle up!” Their coach shouted blowing the whistle.

The girls all pulled towards her, balls in hand.

“So today as we all know is the first day of practice. You’ve all made the team, but that doesn’t mean we have our starters yet, play hard and play like you want to be here. Hit the line!”

The girls all groaned at the last few words, jogging over to the line.

“All right girls! We’re gonna start out with some running, I know you a want to play some basketball, but for now we wanna see whos in shape and ready to be apart of the starting 5. You’ll be running back and forth at the whistle in pairs, the last pair standing…well let’s just say they don’t have to worry about fighting for a spot in the 5. You all want this bad, so give it your all. if your partner falls behind; stay with them. Teamwork wins games. Let’s get started!”

Paige put her hands on her hips, she was ready for this. she was an all around athlete.

she ran almost everyday in the summer, she had worked her ass off with full court layups and sucideds.

But she wasn’t worried about herself, what if she got paired with some kid who couldn’t run half a mile?

She knew teamwork was important, but sometimes it held her back.

Her coach started pairing people up from the varsity roster, kk and ice, Caroline and Aubrey, Jana and Kaitlyn, Sarah and Morgan, and Nika with Allie,

Paige was too busy laughing at Nika getting paired up with the freshman who looked scared shitless to realize who there was left,

her coaches voice rang through, “Paige and Azzi!” Before moving on to the jv girls.

……..Really?

She had to get paired with the one person she didn’t even want to look at?

Azzi started to walk towards her and then she caught Paige off guard by speaking. “listen I know you hate me for no reason, i’m not stupid. But I want to be here, and i’m not gonna let you bitch me out. So can you please suck it up and work with me?”

Paiges breath caught, she was expecting Azzi to just be kind of a pushover, but I guess not.

“I’m not being bitchy, just making sure your good enough for my team Princess”

“Oh i’m good enough, and you know that Bueckers.”

Maybe Paige had read her wrong, but that wasn’t even the worst thing.

Now that she looked at Azzi right next to her, she was fucking beautiful.

She was nothing like the girls Paige had dated, and there had been a lot. She kinda had a reputation at the school, but that was expected with her fame.

But Azzi was tall, athletic, toned and tanned. She had her hair up in a messy bun with strands of curls falling out of it, and her smile could kill an army.

Maybe Paige should have some fun.

Azzi seemed to be straight, thinking back; there was a few rumors about her and this one D1 commit dating when they did a shoot for Adidas.

Paige had looked at that shoot a little less then the ones Azzi did before, she didn’t know why.

But with this, she pushed those thoughts down, she still had to prove she was better than this stupid, perfect person.

“All right girls, link arms with your partner and get ready!” Their coach shouted, clipboard and stop-watch in hand.

Paige was ready, she was prepared to run a freaking mile in the gym, and Azzi was locked in.

She knew Paige was intimated by her, it was kind of cute. But that doesn’t mean she gets to be bitchy, Azzi earned her spot here, hell—she was offered by IMG academy, she belonged anywhere basketball was.

so she knew she had to give it her all. she eyed Paige and stepped closer,

Fuck she smells good.

But whatever, she was still a bitch for no reason, no mater how intoxicating her presence was.

“I don’t bite, what are you waiting for Paige?” Azzi said holding her arm out,

“Really you don’t? I’m surprised. But I guess that wouldn’t be very princess like huh?”

“Shut up, I didn’t chose that nickname,” She didn’t, but she didn’t mind Paige saying it.

Paige scoffs and took Azzis arm into her own, linked by the elbows.

“This too close for you? Maybe I might bite Bueckers,” Azzi teased, her voice droppping slightly and meeting Paiges eyes,

“nah, just don’t fall in love with me, I know its a lot to handle being this close.” Paige said back, her eye contact unwavering.

There was an unspoken energy flowing between them, like they had just started a battle.

Azzi wasn’t used to teasing, but something about Paige made her want to push her buttons, but Paige did it right back.

The teasing was charged though, something else happening deep down,

A whistle blew hard and loud, “All right ladies, let’s see what you got!”

All the girls linked in pairs stepped up to the line, all ready to run. No one was going to back down, everyone had fought for there spots during tryouts, the group going from 80 girls down to just 2 teams of 12.

The whistle blew.

The girls jogged to the other side of the court, easy. They waited for the next whistle which came a second later,

The jogged back down, the whistle came again. A little faster this time, they ran once again.

“How about we speed it up?” Paige asked to Azzi, arms still linked,

Azzi scoffed, “Are you stupid, why would we burn energy?”

“what? You cant run a little?”

The whistle blew again 4th time down the court,

But this time Azzi took off sprinting, Paige didn’t expect this so she stumbled a little at first before catching up with Azzi who was basically pulling her,

“You could’ve warned me!” Paige said throwing her free hand up.

“I like to surprise, what can I say?” Azzi slid back, flashing her dimpled smile.

Paiges heart skipped a beat at the sight, she was stupidly pretty, and know she started to realize maybe not as sweet she presented.

The whistle blew again, this time Paige took off, fully sprinting as hard as she could, but Azzi expected this, causally keeping up with her,

Because they were sprinting and the other girls were jogging to the lines, they had an extra second to watch and wait for the rest of them to hit the line.

They were on their 6th stretch of the court, which was nothing to the varsity girls, but down the line it seemed that 2 pairs of JV girls had already dropped out, getting some bad stares from the coaches,

Paige nudged Azzi “Hey, looks like there’s only 10 more groups to beat.”

Azzi looked over and huffed, “we’ve run for maybe a total of 60 seconds, how did they make the team?”

The whistle blew for the 7th time,

Paige and Azzi took off sprinting once more,

a little out of breath Paige responded, “i don’t know, but I’m gonna tell you right now; I can do this all day.”

“oh really? Lets see when your the one begging me to stop, once I had to run 100 lines.” Azzi said, not out of breath unlike Paige,

Paige felt some anger creep back in, she had to last longer then stupid Azzi who didn’t even look like she had run one time.

The whistle blew for the 8th time, they sprinted in silence,

After a few seconds it blew again, they sprinted yet again.

“All right girls! I’m glad to see there’s 10 pairs still left, but we’re gonna speed it up. Get ready.” The coach yelled, and blew his whistle again.

Paige glanced at Azzi as their coach talked, silently asking a question which Azzi seemed to understand, because this time they didn’t sprint, they just jogged with the rest of the girls to the line, then the whistle blew again almost immediately.

After the 18th whistle blow, the time in between the lines was getting less and less. 3 more groups had dropped out, leaving one JV pair and Varisty.

Paige was out of breath, it getting a little harder to run, but the worst thing was that Azzi was still fucking fine.

she wasn’t showing any signs of breathlessness, looking as causal as ever.

The whistle blew for the 19th time, they ran to the other end barley touching it before the 20th blow came through, they ran back to the line,

“You okay there Bueckers?” Azzi said glancing over before the next whistle, which came right after she spoke,

Once they hit the other side the blonde responded, “just fine Princess, like I said; all day”

after the 30th whistle, it was hard to breathe, the JV pair had dropped out, lasting longer then anyone expected them to.

But it seemed like Azzi only gained energy with every step, which was the most annoying thing ever.

40th whistle came though. The first Varisty pair dropped out; Sarah and Morgan who sat on the floor panting.

50th whistle, KK and Ice dropped out,

“You hanging in there?” Azzi said, only now starting to pant.

“All day.” Paige responded simply, not even looking at her.

55th whistle, Jana and Kaitlyn.

60th whistle, Allie and Nika.

By the 70th whistle Caroline and Aubrey were barely making it to line in time.

There was only 2 pairs left, the rest of the girls were watching intently along with the coaches, who clearly didn’t expect them to last this long.

Paige was barley breathing, hair ponytail slicked to her neck in sweat,

Azzi on the other hand was still standing straight up, breathing heavily but she was focused, not letting her exhaustion get to her.

82nd whistle. They had run the court 82 times.

Aubrey and Caroline both collapsed onto the floor, barely breathing.

Paige and Azzi looked at each other, both extremely done with running, they had done it.

“all right very good ladies, but Azzi and Paige, separate and stay on the line, the two guards need to see whos gonna start.”

Paige groaned, everything hurt.

Her and Azzi unlinked arms, slick with sweat, Azzi whispered under her breath, “good luck Bueckers, and don’t get distracted.”

distracted? By what?

The whole blew, Azzi jogged with perfect posture down the other side, where Paige met her quickly.

Paige wasn’t gonna just let her win, she’d rather die then loose, especially to Azzi.

The rest of the team was chanting for different girls, taking bets on who would win,

The whistle blew: number 90.

There was a stabbing pain under Paiges chest, she couldn’t think or breathe. Only powered by her competitive nature.

100.

They had run the court 100 times.

Paige whipped her sweat with her shirt, the sheen glinting on her abs,

Azzi looked over just as she doing this, too be honest, Paige was attractive. She wasn’t afraid to admit it. But she was a bitch, but a hot one.

And Azzi was smart, and self aware, knowing she was attractive too, and that Paige sure wasn’t hiding her flirting very well.

With the 110th whistle she decided to push her luck. Seeing if she was right about her suspicions.

she leaning against the wall and pulled her sweat soaked shirt over her head. Leaving her in a sports bra.

a few of the girls clapped at this, Nika loudly whislted.

She had defined abs from the years of hard workouts, she knew they only looked more impressive in the light of the gym while sweat was dripping off them, her messy bun had dropped slightly, and more curls came out framing her face.

Paige looked over, her eyes dragged over her frame, not even hiding it, she mouthed “Not gonna work” before the whistle blew again.

The 115th whistle blew, they had officially run a little over 2 miles straight.

But with the constant changing of directions and the heat from the gym, it felt a lot more like a marathon.

Azzi looked over at Paige, she wasn’t looking like she could last much longer, but she was way too stubborn to give up. Azzi mouthed “you done?”

Paige responded by sprinting down the court at the whistle.

By the 120th whistle Azzi was done, she could barley keep her head up,

Paige was even more done, seemingly running on stubbornness.

As the 130th blew, Azzi legs started giving out, almost at the same time she could see Paige stumble slightly before running again.

Azzi didn’t know why. But she didn’t want to beat Paige.

Hell-one of the reasons she came here was to play with Paige.

So with that, when the 131st whistle blew and Paige didn’t move, Azzi didn’t either, instead she stumbled onto the ground.

Paige collapsed next to her, out of breath and barley alive,

The girls on the beach all burst out in cheers,

“Well I guess its a tie- good job both of you… that was unexpected. Girls on the bench! I expect more, a lot more running will be coming your way, grab a ball and start shooting. Bueckers, Fudd, Just hit the showers, and don’t throw up on anything important.”

Azzi hummed in acknowledgment, Paige just groaned.

After a few more seconds, Paige stood up slowly, wobbling walking towards Azzi extending a hand out.

Azzi looked up confused, but she quickly masked it with a smirk, “A real gentlewomen huh?”

Paige rolled her eyes, “Just shut up and take my hand,”

Azzi reached out and grabbed Paiges hand.

she was forcefully pulled onto her ground catching a glimpse of Paiges toned Biceps flexing, clearly she lifted. A lot.

Paige smirked catching what Azzi was looking at, “You starring at something you like Princess?”

“shut up, don’t flatter yourself, there’s barley anything there, noodle arms,” Azzi responded, a little flustered from getting caught.

“Really hm? What’s this then?” Paige said flexing her arm fully looking down at Azzi with a cocky smile,

Azzi scoffed and pushed past her,

Paige called out as Azzi walked past, “You can feel it if you want!”

Azzi didn’t turn around because if she did, Paige would fully be able to her stupidly big smile.

[luvseisagi]

— two years late.

read part 1 here.

ft. itoshi sae x reader. wc. 5.7k

summary. after two years apart, the call you thought would never come finally did. content. gn!reader, no pronouns used, reader wears makeup. even more angst and even less comfort (sorry), right person wrong time, childhood friends to strangers, miscommunication. aged up characters (sae and reader are 20, rin is 18). sae might be ooc and has issues. author's note. there was like a FULL power outage in my country today i was isolated completely alone in my house with no light no cooked food no electricity no internet connection for HOURS. SUFFERING.. so i wrote this - it was actually supposed to be shorter than the first one?? and it's twice as long?? i like writing angst too much i fear.

𝜗𝜚 english isnt my first language, so any corrections or advice are highly appreciated, as well as feedback (please) ! enjoy

rin

did u arrive alr? mom says u have to pack everything u wanna keep before we come back give it two hours or so

sae sighs, the messages on his phone too bright for his liking. he has just arrived home from a twelve-hour-long flight and a painfully slow ride from the airport. the last thing he wants to do right now is start packing his old room’s things.

“sure” he types back, before shutting off his phone and throwing it onto the bed. his relationship with his little brother isn’t as bad now —sae is twenty and rin eighteen—, but he still gets slightly annoyed when they talk over text. only it isn’t exactly annoyance, but a cluster of unpacked feelings and regrets he never learned to express. 

not to his brother, at least. not to anyone in his life, since —well. since you and him weren’t friends anymore.

sae shakes his head in annoyance, as if a physical movement could somehow make the thoughts disappear. he leaves his suitcase in a corner of his room, still closed, near the window whose blinds he hasn’t bothered to raise yet. the jacket is lost somewhere in the pile of clothes cluttering the messy living room —it isn’t usually like this, his family has someone help with the cleaning daily. however, since they’re moving to a bigger house, his parents didn’t care at all if the common rooms stayed untidy. they just wanted to move out as fast as possible.

at first, he hadn’t understood why. sure, it was a matter of time before they bought a bigger, more expensive house —specially now that sae had just turned twenty and gotten signed for the actual re al team, and not the u20 one, and rin was considered the star of his generation, next to his always friend-and-rival isagi yoichi—, but why the rush? 

he had just come back from spain, again, and they were already pushing him to pack up and leave the only place where he had lived the memories he actually treasured.

it was unfair for him to think that way, though —him, who had been the first to abandon said place, and said memories, not once but twice. 

and that’s why now, standing alone in the gloom of his old room, he understands. because he isn’t the type of getting attached to things, people, places, or anything that has nothing to do with football, and he doesn’t really care about living in a big apartment or even a bigger house, but he feels the urge to run away from the moment he sets foot inside his old room.

instead of a bunk bed, there is now a big double bed his parents had ordered when he came back from spain the first time, two years ago. next to it, there’s a wide closet that takes up almost the entire left wall. and in the corner near the window, there’s the custom-made glass shelf they gave him when he was younger —which quickly filled up with trophies and awards from his high school years—. 

right beside it, there’s a dark wood desk he never really used —he didn’t like studying—, that would be empty if not for the pile of colorful envelopes sitting on top of it. 

his thought process is fast: if he lies down on the bed now, he will fall asleep for more than the two hours their parents are going to take before coming home. the trophies are valuable for him, but he isn’t on the mood to remember all the matches and competitions that they carry, and there are too many memories stuffed inside his closet that he doesn't want to dig up now.

so he walks to his desk, and he sits on the chair in front of the pile of letters.

they’re letters from fans, he remembers. his manager had dropped them off two years ago, a few days after rin left for the blue lock project. when he was younger, he would usually read all —or almost all, at least until he got bored— of the letters he received. his favorites were always the ones written by little kids telling him how he inspired them. 

he never really thought he could ever make an actual impact in japan’s football scene, but those kind of letters reminded him of his little brother, so he did appreciate receiving them.

it’s weird he hadn’t read these, considering most of the envelopes are pink, blue, or orange, and his manager’s address —the one published for receiving fan mail— is adorned with little hearts, flowers, and football balls. it’s pretty obvious most of them were written by kids.

he’s just about to open the first envelope —a dark pink one, similar to the color of his hair, adorned with little spirals, hearts, and a doodle he thinks it’s supposed to resemble him— when he remembers why he didn’t read them back then.

reality hits him like a punch straight to the stomach, and his chest feels suddenly so heavy he needs to close his eyes and focus on breathing. 

the shouting. the blame. the unanswered questions. he remembers everything, second by second.

the regrets. the indifference. the anger and the sadness. and you, crying so loudly you couldn’t even talk, sitting in the same chair he’s sitting in now.

he had been about to read the letters right before your argument —the first and last time you came to his house, after four years separated by thousands of kilometers, two continents and one ocean —, and he hadn’t had the strength to read anything after you left.

because the first thing you had said to him was “why did you say all those awful things to rin?”

not i missed you, or i’m really happy to see you. not even a hi, sae, but a question about his brother —which he knew he was important for you too, of course, but you were his best friend, not rin’s. sae should had been your first priority, not his brother.

the next thing he knew, you were shouting at him, blaming him for something he wasn’t even aware he had done. rin had a full breakdown because of their silly encounter that first day? he had just been being a big brother, telling him the truth —it was better if it was him, and not the big world outside, who taught him a lesson. 

but rin hadn’t understood that, apparently. and neither had you.

he had entered the autopilot mode —the same one he used while in interviews, or irrelevant social events in madrid— right after you mentioned rin. he barely even remembers what he told you now, what he answered or what he tried to explain. back then, the only thought of his mind was that you were standing right in front of him —taller, your features more mature, and somehow even prettier than you already were— and you hand’t even brought yourself to hug him yet. 

sae opens his eyes. 

yn’s not here. he thinks, repeating it to himself as a prayer, as if his words could make your ghost disappear from the room. there’s no one but me here. i’m alone.

again.

he lifts his head, feeling slightly dizzy after nearly choking in the waterfall of memories that just flooded him. i’m here alone, he tells himself once more, knowing full well he must look insane right now.

because he’s lying. you’re there. you’re everywhere.

you’re lying on his bed, even though you never actually had time to sleep in there —back when the old bunk bed he shared with Rin still stood in the room—, and you’re laughing in whispers while trying to decipher what rin’s dreaming about. 

you’re sitting on the floor, struggling to explain him a math problem for the twelfth time, annoyed because he insists on kicking a ball instead of paying attention to you. 

you’re almost drowning in a mountain of clothes, his room a runway while you try on his football jersey with a long skirt you stole from his mother. 

and you’re standing in front of the shelf, pretending to ask about each trophy —even though you knew exactly which belonged to which victory, because you had been there for every single one.

you’re also where he is now, sitting by the desk, your trembling hands playing with the colorful envelopes, fighting your urge to cry. 

but your voice —it sounds broken; and he knows he lost you way before you slammed the door and left his house forever, your jacket sleeve stained with the makeup you tried to wipe away and your lips pressed tight as if you were about to throw up your heart.

and still, everything on his room is so him he doesn't even understand why it's reminding him of you.

the only thing that anchors him to the real world right now, he thinks, are the envelopes on top of his desk. he tries to control his breathing, he tries to focus his gaze, and his hands are nearly shaking when he plunges his hand in the pile of letters. he doesn’t know why he clings to one, but he pulls it out of the pile and stares at it, the tips of his fingers brushing over the messy star drawn on the paper.

and suddenly he stops.

then he wonders.

he wonders why there's a letter on his hands, and why does it have your handwriting in it. 

for sae, and nothing else. there’s no address, which means no one sent it to his manager, and he knows it's yours, because he still recognizes your handwriting —and because even though all his fan letters have hearts drawn around his name and brightly colored envelopes, you're the only one who would have chosen the exact shade of teal of his eyes and the drawing of a star instead of the a in his name. 

he can't understand why his hands are practically shaking when he frantically tears the flap open, and he can't swallow the lump that forms in his throat as he reads the sentences written in black ink by a hand that seems unsure of itself. 

your handwriting is so familiar that his heart skips a beat, and now he doesn’t know if it’s because of sadness, regret, nostalgia or the excitement of having a piece of you in his hands again. 

as he reads, sae realizes when exactly you wrote that letter —since there’s no date to be seen anywhere. it looks like you had been trying to start writing something to him more than once, but your words never felt natural enough to express everything you wanted to tell him. not until he came back, and had an argument with rin.

in the letter, you tell him you expect a reasonable answer as for what happened with his brother, but that’s everything you mention about him. the rest of the message —three full pages of messy handwriting and some mistakes you crossed out with the pen—, talks about everything he wanted to hear that day. 

you wondered about his life in spain, you told him some stories he knew already —because you always went to him when you wanted to talk about your day—, and you kept telling him, over and over, how much you had missed for the past four years.

sae chuckles, reading every word with your sometimes excited, sometimes bored, sometimes indignant voice in his head. you are so cute, he thinks, caressing the sheet of paper without realizing it. 

“by the way,” the letter said, halfway through second page “do you remember that time you played against that other team of spain while i was in a sleepover, and i stayed awake just to congratulate you for scoring the winning goal? i was in a friend’s house, and everyone was asleep already but i watched the end of the match on my phone under the blankets.”

a small smile grows on his face. of course he remembers, your friends’ complaints were the background noise of the audios you had sent him after the match. you were, what, fifteen years back then? sixteen, maybe?

“well, the conversation was a bit embarrassing so i’m not going to tell you, but basically, i realized that i like you that night.”

sae stops reading for a second.

what?

the words resonate in his mind, unearthing a feeling whose funeral had already been celebrated years ago. 

he takes a deep breath before continuing to read, but the letter only gets heavier. 

you’re telling him how you realized it, what you liked about him, why you felt this weird feeling —one you would later learn was jealousy—, whenever you saw your friends happy in their relationships. for two whole years before you wrote that letter, you had been carrying the weight of discovering what a first love felt like.

and said first love was him.

sae’s world falls down. 

he doesn’t cry just yet, but he feels himself on the verge of tears right after reading your last sentence. 

“ps: for the sake of my dignity, i really hope you’re reading this in the airplane back to spain, or in your apartment in madrid, ‘cause i don’t think i could stand looking at you in your eyes knowing that you read this. however, please, call me when you read it —it doesn’t matter if you feel the same way or not, you don’t need to mention it. just call me, tell me how your flight was, complain about your manager and everything he’s making you do, if you must. but tell me something, please. 

i missed you, and i love you. and no ocean could ever drown that.”

sae freezes for three long seconds, his body static from pure shock, before practically throwing himself onto his bed, searching for his phone. he feels like he’s dying during the time it takes for the device to turn on, and he types his passwords as fast as his fingers allow before clicking on the contacts app. 

your name shines so bright in his screen he swears he could go blind, but this doesn’t stop him from staring. he gulps, nervous, and presses the call button under your profile pic —still you, when you were seventeen and asleep on his bed with his jersey as a pajamas.

the phone rings three times before someone picks up on the other end.

he doesn’t say anything at first, waiting for you to talk. his heart is beating so hard he can hear it, so loud it’s deafening, but the silence on the other side is even deeper, pushing the sound of his heart to the background. his expectations have never been higher, as well as his anxiety —creeping from his legs to his stomach, his chest, his arms and finally reaching the hand holding the phone.

“hello?”

he almost jumps when a voice that is definitely not yours comes through the phone.

sae hangs up so fast his mind barely processes it before he's staring at your name and your profile picture again. could you have changed your number? no, unlikely. as far as he knows, you still keep in touch with his parents, and his mother would have messaged him in an instant to give him your new number, even if she knew he wouldn’t use it. —she loved you like family; as she used to say when you were younger, you would definitely end up part of it if one of her sons was smart enough to wife you up.

so why did a man’s voice answer his call?

grabbing his phone with both hands, staring so hard it might break from it, sae lets his body fall back onto the bed. he stays there for a few seconds, your peaceful, sleeping face on the screen almost seeming to blame him for disturbing the peace you always had when you were together —by calling a number that was forgotten, forbidden.

when his brother had sent him that picture back then, he had felt a very weird, very unusual feeling forming in his chest. 

jealousy, maybe, because there was nothing he wanted more than being with you and rin right now. hurt, probably, since he had been living in spain for almost three whole years now, and he missed you two a lot. 

love, he concludes now, because he realized long ago that he loved you — he just never let himself think about it long enough to understand those feelings.

you were too far away, he told himself every time he thought of you like that — and there was no point in trying to tie you down when you were living your best life, being everyone's crush, having normal teen experiences with your new friends.

but how did he not know you loved him too?

before letting himself get lost inside his memories and regrets again, his thumb presses the call button once more. this is your number, he’s sure of it, and if he the guy that answered was with you in any kind of way… well, that’s something you would have to tell him yourself.

“hi? yn?”

he finally gathers the courage to be the one to do the talking first, but his voice is almost a whisper when he pronounces your name, each syllable soft after leaving his lips. 

it’s the first time he’s said it out loud in two years.

“hi, uh, sae?”

sae sighs, relieved, and he closes his eyes as he hears your voice. his head rests on one of the pillows, one hand holding the phone, the other on his chest, now breathing at a normal pace. he can’t stop the small grin spreading on his face.

then he remembers: you answered the phone, so it’s his turn to talk.

i missed you, he wants to say first, but discards it —might be too much. i’m happy to hear your voice, is another option, but perhaps too straightforward. how are you? seems right, or so he believes —no one taught him how to start a conversation with his lost childhood best friend before. he wants to appear casual, yes, but he also wants to show that he cares.

he has it all so clear in his head, he surprises himself when he suddenly speaks, his brain too slow to process his words before they spill from his mouth.

“i read your letter.” is what he says instead.

on the other side of the line, you frown, not expecting a call from him at all. not now, at least.

“what letter?” you ask, genuinely confused. you don’t remember sending anyone a letter, much less sending one to itoshi sae. 

he is so famous now, much more than what he was back when you two were still friends. even if you tried to send him something, you doubt he would have ever receive it.

you could have given it to him through his parents, though. through rin, now that their relationship was back to normal —you think, at least. ever since he was signed in the japan’s u20 team, you barely kept in touch.

a little smile grows on your face, not sweet, but bitter. nostalgia tracing your lips, and memories invading your chest.

sae speaks again.

"the one you wrote me two years ago. i never read it until now.”

reality hits you then. oh, that letter. the one you poured your soul and heart into at seventeen, when you thought your life would end if he read it. 

sure thing, you were wrong. your life didn’t end because he read it — it ended because he never did.

you stay quiet, half-hoping your silence is torturous for him. you have no words, anyway —how could you expect to receive the call you dreamed of, the one that kept you up at nights and anxious every morning, two years later?

so sae, desperate to fill the silence, starts talking again —words rushing out so fast you wonder if you’ll even be able to keep up.

"i thought you hated me and thats why you didn’t call or come back to my house after the argument" he says. his voice sounds weird, raspy, like he’s choking in his words —on his feelings, really, the guilt twisting him up inside.

"i thought you got on rin's side after we argued, and i thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore after you left my house crying.” still laying on the bed, his posture the same as minutes ago, sae feels his chest tighten with every word he says. a whirlwind of memories, regrets and nostalgia, and unsaid feelings tearing him apart, from his heart to his head —his rationality, too, as he seems to be unable to stop talking.

“i never took your letter to spain and i never read it till now —didn’t even know it was yours, it got messed up with some of the fan mail. i found it today, in my desk—, and i was so angry back then, because you didn’t come to say goodbye before i went back to madrid after the u20 match.” he speaks in a rush, thoughts unfiltered, pouring straight from his heart to his mouth “it felt unfair, having strangers write me letters, tell me they would miss me, when the only person I wanted to hear it from was you.”

he falls silent after that, expecting an answer.

since you are saying nothing back, he keeps talking. 

meanwhile, you can only think it is so not sae, speaking this much, having the need to explain himself —no one had, never in his life, asked him to justify his actions. so why is he so desperate for you to understand him? 

he feels the urge to say sorry —worse, even. he feels the need for you to forgive him.

so he doesn’t stop.

“i… i’m sorry for not taking your letter to spain. and i’m sorry for not reading it, and not calling you.” he exhales, voice breaking slightly “i expected you to reach out first, but since you didn’t, i thought…”

“that is not your fault” you finally say, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

you hate hearing him like that —so vulnerable, so hurt. you had dreamed of this call for a long time, wanting it, for a while, to be this dramatic and intense. but not anymore. two long years have passed, and your mourning had ended a while ago. 

“i was the foolish one” you say softly “for thinking you would read all the letters and find mine there. but that’s fine now, i was a dumb teenager, in love with a famous football player who lived on the other side of the planet. it sounds like a cliché fanfic trope” you chuckle “what was i expecting?” 

your voice is calm, and even your posture, sitting in the sofa on your living room, is composed too. you are able to control the lump of feelings forming in your throat —you are not lying when saying you were the naive one. yes, it was the most hurtful heartbreak of your life, but you had gotten over it already.

“i am really sorry, yn.” sae sighed, his eyes closed again, tightly pressed together as if afraid of letting a rebellious tear scape. “i’m sorry i disappointed you.” 

and when you hear these words, you know he’s hurting. you know he is because, even though he never got the courage to say it out loud, that’s always been his biggest fear—disappointing people. 

he was scared of not being good enough at football —he was a prodigy in japan, but he had to train for what he thought it would be natural for him once he started playing in spain—. he was terrified of failing at being a good older brother —he had always taken good care of rin. why, when he was just trying to protect him, did he make his relationship worse? 

and deep down, he hated the thought of not being good for you, too —which, he thinks bitterly, he wasn’t, either. he waited for you to come to him and tell him goodbye, waited for you to text him or call him or tell him you missed him instead of doing it himself, when he was the one dying to hear your voice again.

“look, sae, i…” 

you don’t know what else to say, anyway, because he did disappoint you, but you can’t just tell him the truth. he would not be able to handle it —you had always thought that he would, but you weren’t so sure right now.

“it might be a bit late for the call” he says, swallowing hard. the words taste metallic on his tongue, just like blood, and he’s saying them out loud before he can bite his lips and shut up “but i think you have the right to know that i loved you t-“

you cut him off in an instant.

“sae” 

his name in your mouth sounds like a warning, a plea, and a cry all at once. however, you don’t give yourself enough time to analyze each of them —he has, finally, nothing else to say. he’s run out of excuses to tell you, to fix a huge mistake he had made without even realizing it.

you summon the courage to keep talking.

“i have a boyfriend now” 

sae’s chest freezes for a second, his breath getting stuck in his throat after hearing your words. he mutters an oh, but he can’t bring himself to say nothing else.

“that guy from maths, in high school.” you tell him, as if talking could somehow fix the awkward silence between you two “the one who had a crush on me when we shared that class. he’s studying the same degree as i am, and we got paired up for a group project not so long ago. i guess he never gave up liking me, and, well, when he asked me again, there was nothing stopping me from dating him.”

it is not until you finish your last sentence that you realize how cruel you have just been —until now, the only thing stopping your for dating him was precisely sae. and he knows that.

you haven’t said it on purpose, really, but for a moment, you wonder if sae is feeling what you felt the day you two argued. if he is now discovering the effect he has on people when he’s being rude. unintentionally, but rude anyway.

you stay in silence a while longer, waiting for him to say something —it’s not like you don’t care about what he was saying, or feeling, when you interrupted him; but two years later, really? a lot has happened since you two were eighteen, and it is true you have a boyfriend. it doesn’t really matter what he tells you now.

"i'm sorry, yn.” he finally says, voice soft under his, for some reason, shaky and uneven breath —could it be that this conversation is actually affecting him? “i’m sorry for not reading your letter. and for saying sorry now. and for not telling you that i loved you when i should have." 

those last words make you feel your heart break, just a bit, just a crack —only enough for a tear to fall from it through your eyes and down your cheek. 

"im sorry too, sae. but you are late for that”

then there’s silence again. neither of you says nothing for a while, but neither of you hangs up. for a few seconds, him laying on his bed and you sitting on your sofa, it feels like you are together again. rin’s superhero cartoons in the television, sae’s arm over your shoulders and your head against his neck. he would say something about his practice, and you would detangle his dark pink bangs from his long black eyelashes, then laugh at the face he made whenever you touched his hair.

everything was so easy when you were still kids, practically living in the same house three days a week —when his brother and you shared first place on things he loved, alongside football, not after it.

you sigh, escaping the bubble you had gotten in. you couldn’t blame football, practice, or matches at all —it was what distanced sae and rin, but it had nothing to with you. 

it was loving him what changed everything for you two, you think. or, at least, being such a coward you were never able to tell him. or maybe it was nostalgia. or anger. or lack of communication.

you would never know now.

the silence is mortifying. sae is the one who breaks it.

"nothing would have changed, though.” he whispers suddenly. you’re sure he’s holding the phone close to his face, for how his voice sounds, and you are right —still lying on his bed, sae lays on his side, one hand under the pillow and the other loosely playing with the sheets. the phone is on the pillow too, near to his lips, which talk very softly. “you know that, right?” 

you wonder if he’s aware he’s sounding a bit mean again, even if he’s whispering.

“i mean, you were just about to start your dream degree at college and i was centered in my football career in spain, so even if i had read the letter before and i had called you, probably nothing would have changed at all” he’s biting his lip now, curled upon his bed, as if you were kids again, telling each other secrets under the blankets. “maybe it was for the better.”

you can’t help it but chuckle. this is so sae, trying to fix something with the right intentions but the wrong words. 

he was never good at comforting people, honestly, but no one, not even you, had ever told him that —the fact that his words are always true doesn't mean they can't hurt, and that’s something he never understood.

maybe he thinks you are immune to them now, now that you have a new boyfriend and, apparently, your dream life. but it does hurt anyway.

"i would have waited for you" you confess, throwing another sharp truth to him. you hear him swallow the lump in his throat "but it doesn’t matter now, does it?” 

on the other side of the line, sae presses his lips together, and sighs silently. he doesn’t even react to your sarcasm —of course you would have waited for him. of course he would have waited for you, too. 

and well, you have a boyfriend now, but it’s the guy you had been complaining about for weeks on facetime when you were younger, at very late hours in japan and very early hours in spain. and it might be selfish for sae to think this, but you couldn’t like your boyfriend that much if it had taken him more than four years to get a yes from you.

so maybe, after clearing the feelings between you two, you could fix the friendship you had —and had lost— during his time in spain. maybe he could... 

“would you like to hang out sometime?” he asked boldly, voice now louder and less of a whisper. his idea had potential, he thought “my family's moving out, you could come and visit the old house before we sell it, to say your goodbyes —you have memories here too.” 

your heart shrinks a little bit again,

“no, sae, i told you already. it's too late.” you try to portray a composed image, voice calm, but the distress is noticeable in your voice anyway. maybe sae hasn’t done it on purpose, but nostalgia is your weak point, and he knows that. “you are too late.”

so you don’t wait for him to say anything more before hanging up the phone. you were on edge already, a knot tightening more and more around your heart, tears piling up under your lashes. 

he has no idea how hard it was for you to move on, not just because of the distance, but because of the silence. the silence he had left when he left, and which stopped being a painful void only to become a wall between you two.

you throw your phone to the carpet of the living room; your boyfriend, still inside the bathroom, completely unaware of the state you are in —tears falling uncontrollably down your cheeks, breath uncoordinated and hard to swallow, hand covering your mouth as if, just like in a very vivid memory, you were about to throw up your heart.

of course you had spent two whole years trying to get over your first love just because itoshi sae had not recognized the envelope you’d left on his desk the last time you went to his house, and he had mixed it up with his fan’s letters. of course he hadn’t read any of them at all, because he didn’t care about his fans’ thoughts of him the way he cared about your goodbye, which he thought he would never get.

of course he hadn’t forgotten about you, and he didn’t hate you —he loved you, how could he not? and he had been scared of telling you because he thought you were the one angry at him. 

your trembling lips exhale a long sigh, and you wipe away your tears, staining your hoodie with your now-smudged makeup. you can’t help it but laugh at the irony.

of course you forgive him for everything, because you still love him. 

at least a little bit. even if you have a new boyfriend and a new whole life and you've spent drunken nights trying to forget him and rainy evenings missing him like crazy. 

in the end, seems like he loved you, too. you wonder if it was fate what didn’t allow you to be together —sae was right, though, distance was difficult and your lives way too different for a relationship to have worked. but who knows, you think. you had believed, religiously, for so many years, that sae was the one made for you —it doesn’t feel real realizing that he might have thought that about you before, too.

you sigh, closing your eyes and hugging one of your cushions. you have no more tears to cry.

if only he hadn’t read the letter two years late.

masterlist.

tags ౨ৎ @princesssae .ᐟ

pls lmk what u think in the comments, reblogging, through messages, asks or wtv!! feedback is important to me in these first posts and i'd appreciate it a lot 🤲🏼

﹫luvseisagi, april 2025.

[lazysoulwriter]

strung up on you. - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ content: Pedro Pascal x musician!reader, established relationship, guitar lessons, Joel prep, praise-heavy, chaotic student behavior, soft domestic vibes, lots of love.

---

“I wanna learn ‘Blackbird.’”

You looked up from your tuning, blinking slowly. “Pedro.”

“Yes?”

“You can’t start with ‘Blackbird.’”

He blinked back at you, completely serious. “Why not?”

“Because that’s not beginner level. That’s like… intermediate-to-soul-crushing.”

Pedro scoffed. “I’m emotionally prepared. I’ve seen things.”

“Have you seen your pinky reach that far down the fretboard?” you quipped, and his expression turned sheepish.

“…No.”

“Exactly.”

He pouted, looking devastatingly adorable in his hoodie, glasses sliding down his nose as he plopped beside you on the couch. The new guitar — a beautiful, walnut-colored acoustic — rested carefully between you both.

“So no Beatles?” he asked, voice soft.

“Not yet. But we’ll get there, I promise.”

That was all it took for his grin to return, wide and boyish, as he leaned forward eagerly. “Okay. Teach me everything. I wanna impress Bella, make Craig cry, and Joel the most believable sad dad on TV.”

You giggled, handing him the guitar. “Let’s just get you to pluck clean notes first, cowboy.”

And so it began — Pedro Pascal, award-winning actor, world’s most dramatic man… reduced to grunting every time his fingers betrayed him and the strings buzzed instead of sang.

He was so determined though. Furrowed brows, lips pursed, mumbling to himself: “fifth fret… skip the string… what the hell kind of chord is this?” You couldn’t help but fall in love with him all over again.

Eventually, he got it. Enough to finger-pick a simple progression, his eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas. “Wait. Wait. Did I just—? Baby, did you hear that?!”

“I did!” you clapped. “That sounded amazing!”

He put the guitar down and tackled you into the pillows like a golden retriever. “You’re the best teacher ever. I mean, seriously. You’re like—guitar goddess. My muse. My six-string siren.”

“Stop,” you laughed, hiding your face in his chest.

“No. I won’t. Everyone’s gonna know. I’ll be doing interviews for season two like, ‘Yeah, I play guitar now. My girlfriend taught me. She’s incredible, by the way. Did I mention she plays better than John Mayer? Because she does.’”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“And so in love.”

Later that week, on set:

Pedro: “Hey, uh… just so you all know — I’m doing this whole scene using the technique my girlfriend taught me. So if it sounds good, it’s because of her.”

Bella: “We know. You’ve said it three times already.”

Pedro: “I just think people should appreciate talent when they see it!”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

---

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @kellyxo1 @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure @barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512

[cocobeanncteez]

Song Series One-shot: Choi San — Into You

Genre: SMUT (MDNI / 18+), fluff, idol au, fwb to lovers au

Pairing: ateez San x idol!reader (fem)

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings/content: heavy making out, dry humping, breast play, oral sex (f receiving) / cunnilingus, clit play, fingering, hand job, cum eating (f), vaginal penetration, protected sex (pill), multiple orgasms, aftercare, pet names (sweetheart, baby, good girl, pretty girl), praising, sorry if I missed anything!

Disclaimer: Please note that my Song Series One-shots are purely based on how I personally interpret the lyrics of the songs I chose for this series. It is not based on the music video (if it has one).

Song Inspiration: Into You by Ariana Grande

You watched the stage lights dim, casting a soft glow over the bustling, cheering crowd, various colored lightsticks twinkling like little stars. Your group stepped into the backstage area, and a familiar rush of adrenaline coursed through you while a staff member helped you take your in-ear monitors off.

Tonight’s performance at a major music festival had been electric, your voice carrying through the venue like a siren’s call. Your group had been practicing very hard for this festival, and your body was begging for some well-deserved rest and some food.

But now, amidst the crowd of technicians, staff, and fellow artists backstage, you searched for one person: Choi San.

“Good job out there, Y/N,” your group's leader said and pats you on the shoulder. You offered her a quick smile in return, but your eyes continued scanning the area. She smirked at you and left you alone, knowing exactly who you were searching for.

Then you spot him, leaning against the far wall, his gaze already fixed on you. San’s dark eyes glittered with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. He straightened up, pushing away from the wall. He strides towards you, his eyes scanning you from head to toe, mentally thanking your stylists for putting you in such a great outfit that really highlighted your beautiful features and hugged your body.

“Y/N,” he greets, his voice a low rumble. You bowed to him as he was your senior in this industry, knowing that there are people around that could be observing the two of you very closely. “You were incredible out there," he complimented.

San looked visibly exhausted as Ateez had performed right before your group did. He wanted to lie down and close his eyes, but he would never miss the uncommon opportunity to watch you perform on stage. Despite the tiredness, he still looked like he was going for a magazine photoshoot.

You laughed lightly, though the sound is tinged with nervous excitement from seeing him after weeks. “Thanks, San. You weren’t so bad yourself." Your eyes couldn't help but scan his muscular arms, marveling at how built he was. He seemed to have gained more muscle from the last time you saw him weeks ago.

He smirked, a teasing glint in his eye. “Just not bad, huh?”

“You know what I mean,” you replied, rolling your eyes playfully. “What’s up?”

San’s expression turns serious, his gaze piercing. He looked at his surroundings before shifting his gaze back to you. “Can we talk somewhere private?”

Your heart skips a beat. “Sure, follow me, I know a place.”

It hadn’t always been this way—the two of you lost in each other’s orbit. In fact, the first time you met San was far from the intense, passionate moment you now shared. It was at an after-party of an awards show a year ago, a glitzy affair full of laughter, music, and mingling with fellow idols.

You were standing by the bar, nursing a drink and chatting with some fellow idol friends when you felt a presence beside you. Turning, you found San leaning casually against the counter of a bar, a mischievous smile on his lips.

When the bartender approached him, he gently cleared his throat. "One chocolate martini with extra chocolate liqueur, please," he ordered, and you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, utterly fascinated by his choice of cocktail.

“Y/N, right?” he asked when he noticed he caught your attention, his voice smooth.

You nodded, intrigued. “And you’re San. Your group's been killing it lately.”

He chuckled, a low, warm sound, and you noticed his cute dimples. “Thanks, that's kind of you to say," he said, "I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I’m a fan of your work.”

You felt a flush of pleasure at his words, and your heart was beating rapidly. “Thank you, and I'm a big fan of your work too," you said, taking a sip of your drink. "So, what brings you here?”

“Just looking to unwind a bit,” he replied, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Maybe meet some interesting people.”

The night had flowed effortlessly from there. You found yourselves in deep conversation, talking about everything from music to dreams and fears. There was an undeniable chemistry, a pull that neither of you could ignore.

It was no surprise when, later that night, you ended up in a quiet, secluded corner of the party's venue, lips locked in a fervent kiss. The taste of him, the chocolate you could taste on his lips, the feel of his hands on your skin—it was intoxicating.

That night had been the first of many. Whenever your groups crossed paths, you found yourselves drawn to each other, sneaking away for stolen moments of passion and connection. Each encounter only deepened the bond between you two, making it harder to deny the feelings that had grown.

Presently, you led him to a secluded corner of the venue, away from prying eyes and eager ears, no cameras in sight; this was a place you found when you had a mental breakdown during an awards show and needed a place to cry.

The muffled sounds of the ongoing concert created a bubble of intimacy around you two. San steps closer, his presence overwhelming.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallow hard, your pulse quickening. “Yeah?”

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours while he stepped even closer to you. “I can barely breathe when you’re around, Y/N. It’s like you’ve got this hold on me, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “San...” He was so close, and you realized that he indeed got bigger since the last time you saw him. The new haircut and dyed navy blue hair made his features look sharper. Half his abs were covered by the black leather crop top he was wearing, and his pants seemed to be hanging a little lower than what you saw on the screen when he was performing before. You wanted to get even closer to him; you wanted to cross the line.

San’s voice broke through your little reverie. “Remember the first time we met?”

You smiled, nodding. “At that party. You were so confident.”

He laughed softly. “I was nervous as hell. But there was something about you, Y/N. I couldn’t stay away.”

“And now we’re here,” you murmured, your hand reaching out to his face, fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “And I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

The temperature in the area seemed to rise, the air thick with anticipation. You knew that this was a turning point, a moment that would define whatever came next. And you were ready, ready to take that leap with San.

He takes your hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. “I don’t want to play games anymore. I need to know if this is real, if we’re real.”

You squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. “It feels real to me, San. But it’s dangerous, you know that. With everyone watching us…” One mistake and a scandal could ruin both your careers.

San steps even closer, placing a finger under your chin to tilt your head back, his lips just inches from yours. “A little danger never scared me, Y/N. What scares me is not knowing what we could be.”

Your heart races as his words sink in. The air between you crackles with unspoken desire. “So, what do we do?”

His eyes darken with determination. “We take a chance. No more waiting, no more hiding.”

You nod, your decision made. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

San’s lips curve into a slow, confident smile. “Then come here.”

When you finally pull away at the interruption of the crowd's cheering when another group finished performing, both of you are breathless. San’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes closed in bliss. "Come over tomorrow?" he mumbled.

He pulls you into his arms, the world fading away as your lips meet in a kiss that’s been weeks in the making. The passion between you is undeniable, a fire that’s been waiting to ignite. You lose yourself in the moment, the taste of him, the feel of his body against yours. This was dangerous. This was scandalous.

And oddly, that's how you wanted it.

You didn't catch what he said. "Huh?"

Checking your appearance in your bathroom mirror one last time, you shoved your wallet, keys, and your phone into your bag. You switched your bedroom lights off before you tip-toed to your apartment door.

He moved to place a kiss below your ear. "Come over tomorrow night... my apartment," he whispered. "I'll pick you up."

"Going somewhere, honey?" you heard a familiar voice behind you, and you gasped in shock. "God! Maya, you scared me," you said to your fellow band mate and noticed she seemed to be going somewhere as well. "Where are you going?"

She giggled, "With you, of course." You raised an eyebrow. "I wanted to see Seonghwa, so he's coming with San to get us," she elaborates and you smirk at her. "Anyway, lets go, Y/N, they're here."

The two of you put your face masks and hats on before making your way downstairs to the parking lot.

"So you and Seonghwa... since when?" you ask and she blushes.

"Right before their Europe tour," you says and your eyes widened.

"That's like, what, five months now?"

She nodded. "We're keeping it secret. You and San are the only ones that know now."

The familiar black car came into view and you and Maya quickly got into the backseat. You greet both the boys and notice how Seonghwa's eyes sparkled when he saw Maya. You were genuinely surprised they managed to keep this a secret.

San began driving, and thankfully there was barely any traffic on the road, so you reached earlier than expected. The security system in this apartment complex was incredible, so you felt at ease.

The four of you made small conversation in the elevator when you reached, and as soon as you entered San's apartment, he was pulling you away to his room.

"There's cake in the fridge, Y/N," Seonghwa called out behind you. You yell out a quick thanks before San shut his bedroom door and pinned you against the door. He took your mask and hat off, tossing it aside on the little table by the door, his own mask following.

San placed his arms on the door on either side of you, trapping you in between his arms. "Hi," he says, dimples showing, causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach. God, you're so into him.

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You're so cute, Sannie," you say, pecking his lips. He giggles in response, returning a peck on your lips.

"What do you wanna do?" he asks, dragging you further in his room and making you sit down on his bed. San's room wasn't unfamiliar to you, having been here at least ten times already. You always loved how clean and tidy his room was, and how it was laced with his scent.

"Hmm, anything you want," you reply.

"How about a movie? Sounds good?" You nodded and San moved to get under the sheets, pulling you into his arms, putting the blanket over you both. He reached for the TV remote on his bedside table with one arm, while the other was still around you. You watched his arms flex, and you thanked god that he was wearing a tank top right now.

While he scrolled through the list of movies, you were stroking his arm, marveling at the bigger muscles. His bicep looked so juicy, you couldn't help the thought of wanting to bite it.

And your impulsive thoughts won.

Realizing what you did, you slowly turned to look at San who had an eyebrow raised at your actions. Before you could explain yourself, he moved to hover on top of you, capturing your lips with his own, kissing you hard. You arch your legs and pull him closer to you by his back so that he was now in between your legs, his chest pressed against yours. You moan softly when you felt his boner rub against your clothed clit.

The temperature seemed to be rising the more you kissed, and San pulled away to catch his breath— except, his way of catching his breath was trailing kisses from your lips to your neck.

"Look what you started," he whispered against your neck, placing open mouthed kisses, being very careful to not leave marks on your skin despite how desperately he wanted to.

He pulled away to look at you. "I was waiting for you to make the first move before I did," you say, your tongue poking out slightly to wet your lips, catching San's attention.

You moved your hands down the sides of his body, stopping at the waistband of his sweatpants. You slip a finger inside to hook it under the band of his underwear, pulling it away from his skin and then letting it go so that it slapped against his skin.

"Y/N," he starts, but you push him by the shoulder so his back was against the bed, and you straddle his lap. Your fingers grasp the ends of your t-shirt before you lift it up and over your head, tossing it to the floor. Your chest was covered by a lacey bra, and San could see the color of your nipples through it. You leaned down to kiss him, hungrier and hotter. His hands explored the exposed skin of your back while you slowly grinded on his hard cock, earning a low moan from him.

San sucked in a breath at your bold actions. He wanted you. He wanted you so bad. He's held himself back so much. The two of you still haven't crossed the line, keeping it strictly to making out.

And you wanted to change that. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

San's hand hovered over the hook of your bra, and he pulled away from the kiss to look at you. "Can I?" he asks and you instantly nod, letting him unhook your bra and toss it aside.

"God, you're so pretty," he says, leaning forward to place a kiss in the valley of your chest, and goosebumps erupted on your skin.

San trailed open mouthed kisses to your nipple, taking it in his mouth, tongue darting out to flick the bud, while one of his hands cupped your other boob, massaging it gently.

"San..." you moaned, hands moving to play with his hair while he repeated his actions on your other boob.

You rolled your hips back and forth on his hard cock and he pulled away to look at you with hooded eyes. "Y/N... baby, you're driving me crazy," he mumbles, his hands moving to the waistband of your sweatpants. "Tell me what you want, sweetheart."

"San, I want you," you moan when his hands at your waist press you down on him. "Fuck, I just... I need you right now, San. I want you to fuck me, fill me up with your cock." You wanted a little less conversation and a little more of him touching your body.

San flipped you onto your back and hovered over your body. "Are you sure, baby?" he asks and you hum in response. "Use your words, sweetheart."

"Yes, Sannie, please..." you beg and that was all it took for San to take your sweatpants off along with your panties, shedding his own clothes right after.

And god was naked San truly a marvelous sight. Your hands glided up his arms to his shoulders, before dipping down to his chest and then his hard abs. You maintained eye contact when your hand wrapped around his hard length, slowly pumping his cock.

Only for him to swiftly lay in between your legs, taking your clit in his mouth, his fingers still maintaining the same pumping pace. "What a pretty pussy," he compliments, sucking on your clit, "And it's all mine."

San sucked in a breath while his own hand moved to cup your pussy, his finger swiping along your slit to collect the wetness there, rubbing it on your clit for some lubrication. He leaned down to capture your lips with kiss while his finger moved on your clit in circular motions, your toes curling in the process.

After working on your clit, he finally slipped a finger inside your dripping hole, and you moaned at the stretch. He pumped his fingers to match the pace you kept while pumping his cock, and a second finger joined the first. The stretch made your hips buck up while you moaned, and you were starting to lose your senses. Your walls were practically sucking his fingers, and San pulled away from kissing you.

"San, fuck, please don't stop!" you moaned loudly, your thighs squeezed his head while he lapped at your clit, his wet tongue pressing harder on you. He hummed, the vibration giving you an extra push towards your building orgasm. You were so close to coming, and he seemed to notice that. His hand and tongue worked faster on you, and seconds later, you were releasing all over his fingers. He lapped at your throbbing clit once more before pulling his fingers out, sucking them clean, eyes closing at your sweet taste.

"Are you ready for me, sweetheart?" He asks, lining himself up with your wet entrance.

"W-wait San, let me..." you reached for his cock to return the favor, but he stopped you.

"No, baby, that's okay," he says softly with a smile. "I'll cum too quickly otherwise, and I'd rather cum in you. Is that okay, pretty girl?"

"Yes, Sannie..." He pumps his cock one more time before sliding his tip into your warm hole, sucking in a breath through his teeth.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm not even fully in and you're already so fucking tight," he moans, slowing pushing himself fully in, finally crossing the line.

His cock stretched you out so well, and your eyes closed shut, your body feeling like it was on fire. You were clenching around his length, and San swore he was going to bust right then and there. He leaned down to kiss you softly. "I'm going to start moving, okay?" he whispered against your lips. Once you hum in approval, San goes back to kissing you while rolling his hips, pushing in and out of you in a steady, slow pace, wanting to take his time to familiarize the way you felt around his cock.

But you were growing slightly impatient. You pulled away from kissing him. "Sannie, baby, please... faster please..." you moan, and he chuckles in response. "Please, Sannie."

"So impatient," he murmurs and he goes even slower to tease you, making you whine.

And then he pushes hard into you, knocking the air out of your lungs before thrusting into you faster like you asked.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you cried out, clawing at the sheets beneath you. San's hands gripped the black headboard of his bed, his arm muscles tightly flexing. "God, it- it feels so good, fuck."

You feel the coil of pleasure get tighter in your stomach, and you could tell San was close too. "You're taking my cock so well, fuck, Y/N, you're so pretty," he says, and wets his thumb in his mouth before reaching down to rub your clit, all while maintaining his pace, and you felt your pussy spasm.

"Are you close baby?" he grunts, "You gonna cum all over this dick? Hmm?"

You tried to respond to him, but your words were all jumbled and incoherent. San rubbed faster on your clit, and the coil in your stomach finally snapped. Your orgasm hits you in waves, your body shaking beneath him.

"Such a good girl for me," he cooed, chasing his own high. "Hold on, sweetheart, I'm a-almost... almost there," San says, thrusting even faster before he groans, his cock pulsing, indicating that he came, his cum painting your walls white. He thrusts two more times to milk himself dry, before collapsing onto you, being careful to not put all his weight on you.

You stroke his back and he kisses your collarbone before pulling out and lying down beside you. The room was filled with the sound of both you breathing heavily, heartbeats moving at a rapid pace.

San got off the bed to get some wet wipes before he wiped your dripping pussy, and you whined when the tissue touched your sensitive clit.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" San asks, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Hmm, sensitive," you mumble. "Can't feel my legs." He chuckles and leans down to kiss your head before disposing the wipes in his bathroom.

You got off the bed to head to the bathroom to pee and clean up a little more. While you were washing your hands, San wrapped his arms around you, turning you around to face him when you were done drying your hands on the hand towel. He gently pressed you against the sink, leaning in to kiss you oh so gently.

"I love you," you say against his lips. "I want to be with you, San."

"I love you too," he says, his heart swelling with happiness to finally hear the words he's been longing to hear. "I know you're scared, Y/N, and honestly I am too. This is dangerous and scandalous in our lives... but I love you a lot," he reaches out to cup your cheek, stroking your skin with the pad of his thumb. "We're humans before we're idols. We deserve to fall in love too. There's nothing I want more than to be your boyfriend, Y/N."

Tears well up in your eyes and you nod at his words. "I'd like that," you whisper, pulling him into a tight hug. San held you for a bit, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

"How about we shower, and then I'll make you some ramen?" he suggests, and you instantly agree, not wanting to waste any precious time you have with him.

San smiles widely, his cute dimples popping out while he kisses you all over your face, and you've never felt happier before.

God, you were so into him.