#keep the questions coming yo

[swordmaid]

still thinking about the haikaveh 13 going on 30 inspired au .. like imagine kaveh going home drunk and upset after a bad meeting with a client. he’s presented his 8th draft of the project and there’s still something wrong with it. kaveh doesn’t want to compromise his own vision, and the client is adamant with his own, so they ended up just arguing instead of working on a compromise. then he goes to the tavern to cheer himself up but after a few drinks the bartender refused to serve him anymore since he still hasn’t paid his last tab and the bartender had been putting his current one under alhaitham’s. so kaveh goes home, drunk and upset at his client and also at the thought that he’ll owe alhaitham even more.

and when kaveh goes home alhaitham is lounging on a sofa and the books kaveh asked for him to clean isn’t put away yet. that little detail ticked him off - here’s alhaitham who doesn’t have any work to do at home and yet he doesn’t even bother to do the one thing kaveh asks him for. meanwhile kaveh has to go home late from a meeting that didn’t earn him anything and he’s even more in debt after alhaitham finds out about his tab. so, kaveh’s already drunk and upset and NOW annoyed he starts to argue with alhaitham. first it’s the fact that alhaitham hasn’t cleared away his books yet. then, alhaitham points out that he’s over-exerting himself for a client that’s not even paying him (he doesn’t need to be reminded of that!) then, kaveh argues that instead of trying to point out his failings why can’t he just console his clearly upset and stressed roommate like everyone else and if he was more compassionate about other people, maybe he’ll get along with other people better!! then cue the petty argument exploding into something bitter. kaveh is upset, drunk, and rambling, going on and on about how he doesn’t want to keep sacrificing his artistic integrity, and why can’t people just appreciate his art, and it would’ve been better if he never met alhaitham to begin with so he won’t be indebted to him and maybe his life wouldn’t turn out so badly. the argument only ends after alhaitham goes into his room clearly upset – the kind of upset kaveh was all too familiar with all those years ago — and now kaveh feels shitty and hurt and drunk and he wants to vomit so he passes out on the couch.

then, he wakes up in a room clearly different from their house.

the architectural style of the room is a marriage between the tumbling vines and glass windows of sumeru and the rigid structures and flow of fontaine’s. the couch he’s sleeping on isn’t the green divan alhaitham is fond of ; it’s a blue chaise with velour fabric that’s half as soft.

kaveh panics, looks around the room, then finds achievements displayed on the wall: articles and papers praising his name, pictures with the liyue qixing infront of a renovated and expanded golden house, one next to the fontaine archon besides an opulent theatre. there are articles of his latest creations, interviews with the man himself headlining the steambird, written papers and thesis about architecture published in the akademiya. kaveh learns that he’s not the light of kreshrarewar anymore ; he’s the most famous and accomplished architect in all of teyvat.

but alhaitham is not here anymore.

[sunni-stuff]

You, the butchers daughter, end up stalking your father's new hire.

The first time you see him, he’s hauling a side of beef off the truck like it weighs nothing, muscles taut beneath his apron. His broad shoulders stretch the fabric, veins running thick down his forearms as he grips the meat hook. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, revealing strong arms marred with faded scars—some thin and clean, others jagged, stories you’ll never hear. His hands, wrapped in black gloves, are steady as he works, but you wonder what they’d feel like bare.

Then there’s the mask. Black, snug, covering everything from the bridge of his nose down, leaving only his sharp, calculating eyes visible. Dark and unreadable, they barely glance your way. You’ve tried to catch him slipping, maybe when he wipes sweat from his forehead or adjusts the apron strings that crisscross his powerful back, but he’s careful—never lets you see too much.

The tattoos peek out beneath his sleeves and creep along his collarbones where his shirt dips. Flames coil around his wrists, swallowing skulls with hollow eyes. A soldier, masked like him, grips a rifle among the chaos. A bomb mid-fall, grinning shark teeth, dog tags suspended in ink—each piece a fragment of something unspoken. You’ve glimpsed ink curling over the tendons of his neck, bold lines, and intricate designs that hint at a past you aren’t meant to know. It’s all war, death, and destruction, an unspoken story carved into his flesh. When he moves, the shadows shift over the ink, making it seem alive. You want to ask, to pry, but he’s as unreadable as the art on his skin

He doesn’t talk much, just nods when your father gives orders. The others joke around, laugh, make noise—but he’s silent, methodical, unsettling in the way he moves like he’s done this before. Like butchering meat is nothing new to him.

But what frustrates you the most? He never looks at you for more than a second. Never lingers, never smirks, never acknowledges the way you watch him. As if you’re invisible. And that, more than anything, makes you want to figure him out.

At first, it was just curiosity. No man had ever outright ignored you before—not when you batted your lashes, not when you "accidentally" brushed too close, not when you lingered just a little too long in his space.

But him? He barely acknowledged you. A nod if you were lucky. A grunt if you spoke directly to him. Most of the time, he just kept working, muscles flexing under his apron, strong hands wielding a cleaver with practiced ease.

The others—your father’s old hands, the regulars who came in for their weekly cuts—would’ve tripped over their feet to get your attention. They always had. You were used to the lingering stares, the awkward compliments, the way men fumbled through conversations just to keep you talking. So why didn't he?

It was maddening.

So, you did what any sane young woman would do.

You prodded. You poked. You tested.

You stood too close, pretending to inspect the marbled meat he was slicing, only for him to shift away without a word. You asked him pointless questions, just to hear his voice—low, rough, with an accent you couldn’t quite place—only for him to answer in as few words as possible before returning to work.

It became a game. You knocked things over in his path just to see if he’d catch them (he always did). You “forgot” something near his station just to have a reason to come back. You even tried teasing, playfully calling him mystery man under your breath.

Nothing.

Not a flinch, not a smirk, not even a flicker of amusement.

That should have been the end of it.

But then you started watching. Not just at work—no, you started watching him.

The way he left every night at the same time. The way he took the same route, never straying, never rushing. The way his head tilted slightly whenever he passed certain corners, as if he was listening.

It fascinated you. And when fascination turns to obsession, well…

That’s when you started following him.

You followed him—never too far, never too close—always careful, watching him move through the streets with an air of confidence that seemed to thrive in the quiet of the night. For weeks, this had become a routine, one that started innocently enough. Just a few blocks at first, just enough to ensure that he was who you thought he was. But over time, the habit deepened. Each night, you followed him further, until it became something you couldn’t help but do.

Yet, despite your best efforts, he never made any stops, never took any detours. He just kept walking, heading toward some destination that only he knew. And every time you reached the point where you would turn around, you still didn’t have any answers—no clue what he was up to or where he was going. Just that he moved through the night like someone who belonged there. Unfazed, untouchable.

Then one night, the weather turned.

The rain hit hard, cold droplets splattering against your skin, soaking through your jacket in seconds. You’d stopped for a split second—just long enough to get the damn zipper up, to pull the hood over your head—but in that moment, he'd vanished.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you cursed under your breath, glancing quickly down the wet street, searching for the familiar outline of his tall frame. But there was nothing. No sign of him.

“What the hell?” you muttered to yourself, your voice drowned out by the downpour. You couldn’t let him slip away. Not now, not after all this time.

You started to jog, your boots splashing in the puddles as your eyes darted left and right, scanning the alleyways and storefronts. Your breath came faster as you pushed yourself harder, frustration building. You weren’t going to lose him now.

Then, suddenly, your body was jerked backward, your breath caught in your throat as a strong hand pressed over your mouth. The air around you was thick with the scent of rain-soaked pavement and something darker, something more familiar.

Before you could even react, you were shoved hard against the cold brick of an alleyway wall, your back colliding with the rough surface, your head snapping back slightly from the impact. Your pulse spiked in your ears as panic started to claw at your chest, but the firm grip on your mouth held you silent, still.

For a second, everything went still. The rain beat against your jacket, heavy and relentless, but there was no sound, no movement—just the suffocating pressure of his hand over your mouth and the close proximity of his body.

You felt the heat radiating off him, the sheer strength of his presence as if the space between you was no longer your own. The tension in his arm, holding you against the wall, was undeniable. He was in control.

Your heart raced, but it wasn’t from fear. It was from the frustration, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the urge to finally break the silence between you. You had followed him, hunted him, and now here he was—this close. The tension was suffocating, and you couldn’t decide if you were going to scream or say something sharp.

But before you could gather your thoughts, his voice broke through the storm. Low, smooth, with an edge of something dark. “Thought you’d lost me, didn’t you?” His words came muffled through the mask, but the tone was unmistakable.

He didn’t seem in a rush, like he knew you were trapped in the moment. You didn’t even know how long he’d been standing there, or how he’d managed to close the distance between you so quickly. The rain drummed relentlessly on the alley’s pavement, but his eyes, those sharp, dark eyes, never wavered from you.

“Can’t say I’m impressed by your little game,” he murmured, fingers brushing against your cheek in a movement so deliberate it made your breath catch. “You follow me for weeks, but never thought of what might happen when you get too close.”

“Were you hoping to catch me doing something interesting?" he asked, his breath a warm tickle on your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. There was a calmness in his voice, like he was in complete command, and the way his body molded against yours told you he was used to people being in positions like this.

“I…” You swallowed, struggling to free your voice. “I wanted to see if you’d… notice me.” You hadn’t thought this far ahead. Why had you been following him? What had you hoped to find? You were just a silly girl who wanted the attention of a man who wanted nothing to do with you.

Simon’s laugh was low, almost quiet, but it carried a weight to it that you didn’t expect. It was rich with amusement, deep and rough, and it rumbled against the tension hanging between you both. The sudden sound caught you off guard, your breath catching in your throat as you tried to make sense of it.

For a moment, you were frozen, not sure whether to be annoyed or confused. Had you just made a fool of yourself in front of him? Why was he laughing?

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your nerves, but it didn’t work. His laughter still echoed in your head, and your voice came out shaky. "W-what’s so funny?"

He didn’t immediately answer. Instead, you could feel him shift slightly, his hand easing off your wrist but still close enough to make you aware of the power he held. Simon took a breath, the rain still pouring around you both, but his presence was like a shield, solid and immovable.

"You," he finally said, his voice quieter now, but the amusement was still there, like a shadow in his tone. "You think I didn’t notice you? You’ve been practically waving a flag." His fingers brushed lightly over your wrist, tracing the spot where he’d gripped you, his touch soft now, almost teasing.

"I wasn’t… I wasn’t obvious," you managed to protest, though it came out weaker than you’d like. You could feel your cheeks heating, your frustration mixing with something else you weren’t ready to admit.

"All this time, and you still think I didn’t know?" He shook his head, though you couldn't see his face behind that damn mask. “Sweetheart, you’ve been following me around like a lost puppy, and I was just waiting to see when you'd finally stop pretending.”

For a moment, you stood there, silence pressing in between you both, broken only by the sound of the rain pelting the alley around you. Simon’s words lingered, his laugh still echoing in your mind. You weren’t sure if you were frustrated or flustered or both, but you knew one thing for sure—he had misunderstood what you asked.

Finally, you spoke, your voice clear despite the uncertainty brewing inside you. “That’s not what I meant,” you muttered, taking a step back, shaking your head. You weren’t sure why, but you needed to ask, needed to get to the bottom of it. “Do you have a girlfriend?” you asked bluntly, your eyes never leaving his face.

Simon’s expression didn’t change much, his gaze still sharp but unbothered. “No,” he replied simply.

That answer made something inside you tighten, though you couldn’t quite pinpoint why. But you weren’t done. You shifted your weight, suddenly daring to ask the next question, the one you knew would make him uncomfortable. “Do you find me attractive?”

His eyes flickered for a split second, the usual guarded look breaking, but he nodded, his voice low. “Yes.”

The answer hung in the air like a challenge. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning, trying to connect the dots between what he said and what he did. “So why,” you demanded, “don’t you ever look at me? In the shop, I mean. Why don’t you notice me like the other guys do? They stare, flirt, and… well, pay attention.”

For the first time since you’d started this strange back-and-forth, Simon looked genuinely confused. He stepped back slightly, brows furrowing as he regarded you. “I don’t understand,” he said slowly. “I do pay attention.”

You blinked, taken aback by his response. “What do you mean?”

Simon’s gaze softened just a fraction as he tilted his head. “During lunch... I cut your deli the way you like it—slices thin enough you can stack ‘em. And when I’m working, I stay in your section. Always have.” He paused, his expression almost apologetic. “Flirting with my boss’s daughter at work isn’t exactly the best move. But…”

You stared at him, your mind trying to make sense of his words.

He stepped closer, his presence filling the space between you both, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “But work’s over now, lass. And here we are.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, the real meaning of his words sinking in, and suddenly, the whole night felt like it had shifted, like the game you were playing had just changed.

You opened your mouth, about to say something—anything—to break the silence, to clarify what had just happened, but before you could speak, Simon moved with startling speed.

One moment, you were standing there, staring up at him, and the next, he had lifted you effortlessly into his arms. Your breath caught in your throat as his strong hands gripped you, pulling you flush against his chest, his heat seeping into your bones despite the chill of the rain.

“Your house or mine?”

[monstersholygrail]

Home Workouts

Half-orc bf x fem!reader— groping, delicious sloppy sex, riding that dick, and some niiice after care

You honestly didn’t know what life would be like living with your half-Orc, half-Giant, boyfriend. The two of you have been together for so long but never shared your space for more than a week long vacation or a weekend sleepover at each other’s houses.

Of course, every part of his house was a little too big for you given his tall stature. But ever since the very first time you’ve slept over at his place he’s had an abundance of step stools and other little tools to help you move around the place with ease.

It’s been an adjustment but he’s done everything he can to make it an easy one for you.

There are many things you love about living your boyfriend but your favorite one is by easily by far watching him workout in his home gym. He has it all set up in the garage so it’s not exactly in the way of anything in the house. But accessible enough that even you can hear him in there if you’re downstairs.

At the first sign of his loud grunting your face brightens into an excited smile. You practically throw yourself off the couch and scramble your way through the house. Racing toward the doorway to the garage which always just so happens to be left open. Almost as if a certain someone wants you to hear him, wants you to watch him.

When you reach the doorway he’s right where you expect him to be, at the bench press machine looking way too good to handle. Your knees go weak at the sight of him and you have to lean against the door just to keep upright.

His large muscles ripple under the weight he’s pressing and saliva pools in your mouth, freaking drooling for your sexy hunk of a boyfriend. He grunts softly each time he lifts the weight and it does something to your insides. Making you hot and tingly all over, arousal gushing out of your pussy and soaking your panties.

You watch him work through his sets, your body growing hotter with each new machine he uses. You know he knows you’re there. And you know that he’s making all his work outs look even sexier because he’s trying to get you all hot and bothered. You hate how much it’s working. You’re practically itching to jump his bones.

It’s useless to try and fight it. The more he works out the more his light green skin glistens with sweat. You imagine yourself falling to your knees to lap it up, to kiss down his dark happy trail, and inhale deeply at that scent that’s specifically his and his alone. Fuck, you wanna devour him and he knows it.

He’s purposefully taunting you, egging you on, wanting to make a mess of you before he even gets his hands on your burning needy skin. You may be growing hazy with lust but you don’t miss the sly glances he keeps throwing your way or that stupidly smug smirk he’s been sporting since he was curling those weights. It shouldn’t make you hornier than you already are but it is.

Just as you think your pussy is throbbing so bad you’re about to cum untouched, he finally turns toward you with a raised brow and a classic ‘come hither’ look.

“Come over here and help me with these hip thrusts, pretty,” he says and you know it’s not a question. It’s a demand. Letting you know he’s been wanting you just as badly as you want him.

Walking closer to him in the gym you can see just how true that is. The thick outline of his cock pushing against the fabric of his sweats and just begging to be released. Even seeing it twitch once you finally reach him.

“I said c’mere,” he growls, claws gripping at your plush waist and dragging you against his sweaty stomach with a light smack.

The tension between the two of you is boiling as he swoops down and captures your lips in a ravenous kiss. You both groan as your lips meet in a sloppy needy dance, stumbling back until he’s lying down on the mat covered floor with you straddling his waist.

You press against him as hard as you can, hips already rocking, needing to grind against any part of him you can. He moans into the kiss, tongue dipping into your mouth just to get another taste of you. Claws run over your skin, making you shiver with anticipation as they dip lower and lower. Slowly pushing off all your clothes as they go.

“Look at you, humping me like a bitch in heat,” your bf rasps against your lips, pushing off your panties with a single claw and leaving your delicious curves open to him.

You gasp as your dripping folds are exposed to the cool air. He pushes you back down on top of him, his hands guiding you, rolling his abs all over your clit and causing your head to spin. He’s just so much bigger than you that he can easily jerk you around like his own personal fuck doll. Your toes curl at how damn good it feels and your jaw drops in a silent moan.

“Don’t act like you didn’t do this on purpose,” you accuse.

He chuckles, watching you get wrecked before he’s had a chance to really touch you. You don’t even realize when his hands drift off of you, too caught up in the pleasure rolling through your clit. He makes quick work of skillfully pulling his sweats down just enough to release his cock. It springs out of its confines, hitting your back with a fat smack.

“I can’t help it that you’re such a fuckin’ slut for me…” he purrs and you prove him right as you start grinding your ass along his length.

But it seems like it’s just enough to snap him into action. A feral glint passes over his eyes and his hands are on you in the next second. He pushes his massive pulsing tip through your folds, letting your slick coat his entire monster cock till he’s dripping with you.

He can’t seem to look away from it. Mesmerized by the image of your arousal soaking him. He doesn’t even care he just seems to want more and more of you. Low groans leaving him every time you flutter around his twitching head and make a bigger mess.

“God, you’re so wet f’me. So needy for my cock, you should be ashamed,” he scolds playfully, his smirk widening at your gasp.

You know you should actually scold him and you totally plan on it to. Mouth gaping at him like you’re really trying. But he just doesn’t give you the chance. On the next roll of his hips he catches his tip against your entrance, silencing you instantly.

After one more gloating chuckle your bf pushes you down and you go sinking onto his cock, letting out a pretty mewl as he stretches you to your limits. His cock splitting you open till you can’t even think. You’re a puddle by the time he bottoms out, your core squeezing him so tight like you never want him to leave.

“Baby— nngh— yes. Your pussy is being so good, sucking my cock in like she’s missed it. Show me how much, ride me hard,” he demands again and you’re in no state of mind to refuse.

The two of you work in total sync, starting at a frantic pace as you ride his cock like it’s been days since you’ve last got a taste instead of the hours it’s been. Meanwhile your boyfriend stays true to his workout, his hips thrusting out and plunging into your depths.

Your bf is entranced by the sight of you, completely lost in your pleasure. Head rolling back, your fucking perfect tits jiggling with the force of each thrust. His eyes trail down to where your bodies meet and his cock instantly jolts at the obscene way your fat cunt stretches around his giant cock. It’s a miracle you’re able to take him.

As your sweet pussy throbs and flutters around his girth he groans, his claws tightening around the soft rolls of your hips. His hips then move on their own, picking up pace and ramming his hard pulsing dick as deep inside your core as he can go, swirling you around his length and rearranging your guts.

Your loud shrieks of pleasure fuel him to fuck up into even harder, barely giving you a moment to adjust to each new sensation. You try and lift up to take a moment to breathe but he growls and slams you back down on his shaft, making you scream.

“Ah ah ah, don’t run from my cock. You’ve been droolin’ for it so be the good slut I know you are and take it.”

His hips are a blur as they pound into your messy cunt. Obscene noises fill the room with every snap of his hips, the loud squelch of your bodies meeting only sends you closer to your peak. It only takes one brush of his finger over your clit and your orgasm crashes into you.

Your bf groans at the feeling of you clamping down on his cock and suddenly he’s shooting spurt after spurt of hot cum straight into your needy womb. Grinding his length as deep inside you he works you through it till you both sag on the mats in total exhaustion.

His hands caress your back, smirking as aftershocks wrack through your spent form. He grabs handfuls of you, loving how you fill out his big hands and he drags you closer to him.

“What a workout, huh?” He asks with a big sigh, feeling very pleased with himself for getting you so fucked out.

The room stills and your bf fails to stifle his laughter, which only grows as you soon join him. Your happy and sated laughter rings between you both and at this moment you swear there’s nothing better than living with your bf.

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° sniper, sniper, sniper ♡ wifey, wifey, wifey

( bllk boys showing you off )

♡ a/n — i just love the tiktok trend so :) ( was going to attach a link to a tiktok showing what i was talking abt but it wouldn't work. just look up sniper sniper sniper wifey wifey marines and you'll see what i meant :) )

♡ content — all characters are 18+ !!, mentions of tiktok & instagram, slight cursing, tbh bad writing, nicknames like 'love' , 'wifey' , and 'my girl' used, probably ooc characters

♡ synopsis — blue lock boys showing off their girlfriend :)

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' oh that's your wifey ? ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...tiktok maker

if there was anyone you would really and truly call chronically online, it would be him. every day he'd come to you with some new word he learned from tiktok, or a meme that would plague your house for weeks until it went away.

so when he pulled out his phone to show you a video, you weren't expecting it to be a couples trend.

" please, please, pleaseee, love? you'd look so cute in my arms like that ! " and he had just won a big game...how could you say no to him?

so here you were, being carried like a bride in your lovely boyfriend's arms. if it were anyone else, you'd be too worried about how long they could hold you, but since it was him you didn't worry.

it took a few tries, each of you messing up a part at least once and you accidentally dropping the phone a few times, but after you figured it out, the video was practically perfect.

they posted it to their public tiktok account with the caption

' not my wifey yet, but soon ;) '

and to say all the notifications were making his phone glitch would be an understatement.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ BACHIRA MEGURU, hiori yo, SHIDOU RYUSEI, chigiri hyoma, OTOYA EITA, isagi yoichi

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...instagram poster

maybe, just maybe it was wrong of him.

wrong of him to want to post these pictures the two of you had taken on your date to the aquarium?

if he were any other, normal, person this wouldn't have seemed like a big deal, but since he had at least a million followers and some were a bit more obsessed than others, it was.

you'd told him multiple times that you were okay with him posting you, really if he was happy, you were happy. maybe it was the egoist in him, but he wanted to keep you to himself.

fuck it.

if you wanted to be posted, he was going to post you. who cared what anyone else thought? their opinions didn't mean anything to him.

he selected a few of the pictures the two of you had taken at the aquarium, sneaking one of a lipstick stain on his neck in the middle of the slides.

if he was going to announce his relationship to the public, why not let the world know how utterly whipped he was for you?

the caption was a simple

' gotta love my girl ♡ '

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ YUKIMIYA KENYU, karasu tobito, REO MIKAGE, alexis ness, RANZE KURONA, gin gagamaru

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...national television?!

the ever illusive pro soccer player. that's what every press agency called your boyfriend.

his ability to somehow dodge any paparazzi and answer very short questions during press conferences made every view into his personal life shine like gold.

based on an instagram story ( that was taken down in less than 10 minutes ) where a picture of him with his arms around a woman in a bathroom mirror, the media could assume he was in a relationship. in that photo, however, the woman's face was not visible, so the questioned still remained...

what woman could capture this mans heart?

he hadn't cared, not really. a photo was nothing to him, but you were everything. he tried really hard to keep your identity private, he didn't want you to be absorbed into a world of cameras always in your face.

but after he made the game winning goal of a very important game...all he wanted to do was see you.

maybe it was the way he could see you in the section you'd always sat, or maybe it was his ego wanting to tell everyone "yeah i'm the best soccer player, and yeah i have the best girl, what about it?"

as all of the adoring fans rushed the field, including you, he just wanted to see you. he knew, realistically, he should just go back to the locker room and come meet you afterwards like he usually did, but not today.

he shrugged off ever reporter and fan that wanted to talk to him, which was nothing new, but instead of leaving to the locker room, they watched as he walked over to you

he knew all eyes were on him, the world still watching...but he couldn't find it in himself to care. he wrapped his arms around your waist

" made that goal for you, ya know? "

you were a little surprised at his appearance, but if he didn't care neither than you.

" i know. "

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, rensuke kunigami, RIN ITOSHI, shidou ryusei, ZANTETSU TSURUGI, sae itoshi

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' i think i like her . ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

this was a midnight brain dump so it's pretty bad, but i hope yall liked it :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[prael]

Day 1: Scandal

Aespa Karina x male reader smut

words: 4,260 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

They're calling it the scandal of the century. A downright disaster. People scrambled in the aftermath, but the damage had been done, the proverbial milk spilt. And oh, did the milk spill alright. It sounds like everyone had tuned in right around the country. Hell, right around the world.

If they didn't catch it live, then they certainly caught the post-game replays.

There are a lot of those going around.

No amount of damage control could have prevented it from exploding all over the Internet and into every gossip rag imaginable. But damn it if her PR team hadn't tried to stop it anyway. They had gone on the offence—attacking everyone and anyone who had even so much as hinted at the incident. Filing every legal document they could just get it removed.

It doesn't matter. The damage is done. The ties are cut and you're both hung out to dry.

Well before it happened, there had been warnings. Karina was still fresh off the back of her first Dispatch leak. The two of them weren't even really dating. Two young, rich and hot adults were just fooling around, so once it hit the press and the online articles came in, she took the axe to that relationship right away. She could always find another dick to ride on.

That she did; your dick, and damn did she ride it.

It was a friend of a friend thing. You know one of those 'I showed this girl your picture and she wants to get to know you' things. To be honest, you thought it was a joke. Of course, you did. How often does some K-pop starlet want to have dinner with you?

Anyway, three months down the line and you're two and half months deep into, well, being deep into her.

Her apartment is nice. Her bed is nicer, or at least it is with her in it.

You spent night after night together doing every nasty, carnal thing she wanted. She loves it. You would come to realise she's a bit of a nymphomaniac—and you fucking love it. But, even still, you kept it casual. Kept it quiet.

Didn't work too well.

There was a close call, once.

You put it down to getting a little too comfortable. The guard slipped for just the briefest moment of weakness. Though, if anything, you would at least put part of the blame on the whole system. See, Karina can't catch a flight without the entire thing being documented. She arrives at the airport and they're all there waiting with cameras in hand to get the latest snap of her airport fashion as she comes out of the van. They know what flight she's on and the exact departure time, and then when she lands there's another group of fans waiting.

So it goes without saying, you two can't just waltz in there hand-in-hand. So you book the same flight, seated far enough away from her that no one would question a thing. You shouldn't speak, not until you're safely at the other end and in the privacy of the hotel room, but Karina is Karina.

So she texted you, this one time in the departure lounge. A twenty-minute window and directions to the toilets of the private lounge. There, in the small cubicle, you slipped down her jeans, turned her around, bent her over and made her feel good.

It was quick and messy. Nothing like how the sex would be in her hotel later that night. You had her cheek pressed against the door of the cubicle, your hand covering her mouth to stifle the noise, and your dick going balls deep in her hot pussy while her hand rubbed away at her clit. It was desperate and hungry—more the need to release the sexual tension than to enjoy it.

But damn was it fun.

She deepened the arch of her back and presented herself just that bit more for you and you watched every inch go inside her with each thrust. Watched as your cock spread apart those soft pussy lips of hers and vanished into the warm embrace of her body. Her ass shook as your hips slapped against it and eventually, her legs trembled so much that you had to wrap your arm around her waist to keep her up.

But when you came—and you came deep—someone entered the bathroom. Their presence was unknown until you heard the faucet run. For a brief, horrifying moment you thought it might be someone waiting to bust you.

A security guard or maybe a tabloid reporter ready to get their story. The scandal of the century? Not quite.

Just another passenger. They didn't even realise who they were next to as they washed their hands. But the idea that you both could've been caught, had Karina let that moan slip or if you hadn't just stopped pounding her against the door so hard that it rattled the hinges.

Afterwards, with your spent dick sliding out from between her tight thighs, it was something Karina whispered in your ear. She said, "That was close. We'll have to be more careful."

If only you knew just how careless she was about to be...

See, it was a pretty normal evening. She texted you a time to come over, and you took all the usual precautions. (There's a side door into the block and a service elevator that Karina made sure to get the passcode for.) Admittedly, you got there five minutes early, but it wasn't the first time it had happened, and since the first time, Karina made sure to leave a sock on the bedroom door just in case it happened again. She was streaming, you see, an Instagram live session. One of those things where the adoring fans get to listen to their idols talk about themselves, or their day, or sometimes with Karina, something a little out of the ordinary.

So you waited. A drink of water, sitting on her couch, and letting curiosity take over. You opened up her Instagram, watched her for a few minutes, and smiled to yourself because, as usual, she was simply being Karina. No topic, just rambling, but there were thousands watching anyway, because well, why wouldn't they?

A smile crept onto your face as you watched, knowing that she was in the next room, just looking that good, and soon enough you would be in there ravishing her. There were thousands upon thousands of other people, jealous of you without even realising you existed, who would give almost anything to be in your shoes—to be able to do the things you do to Karina. Fuck, some of them would probably sell everything they owned.

Then she started saying goodbye to people. Signing off, wishing them a good night, whatever. So you locked the phone and waited until she came down the hallway.

She was moving quickly, right towards you. Bare feet hitting the wooden floor in hurried little slaps. She jumped right into your lap without so much as a 'Hello', and she clamped her legs, clad in tight yoga pants, around your waist. She grabbed either side of your face and kissed you, a hand reaching back and pulling on the hair at the base of your skull as she did.

And it wasn't soft either.

It was fierce and aggressive. Her tongue forced its way into your mouth, pushing against your own, flicking over your teeth. She ground herself against the erection growing beneath her and breathed hot breath against your lips while biting down on the lower one.

"You," she gasped. "Take me to the bedroom... Now."

"Hi to you too," you joked, putting your arms under her butt.

She was so very easy to carry. Maybe because you had done it so many times before. But she had always been a light little thing, so slender apart from exactly the places you would want her to be big. It always made it so easy to pin her against the wall with her leg over your shoulder, to press her up against the shower and bounce her up and down on your cock while steam filled the bathroom. But mostly it was great because you could easily throw her down on the bed.

Tonight wasn't going to be any different.

Except it was, wasn't it? But neither of you knew that just yet.

As you walked toward her room, holding her gorgeous body up with nothing but a firm grasp on her ass, she kept whispering things to you. Whispered them right against your ear, her voice low and husky as she did. She told you about all the things that she wanted you to do to her. The things that she wanted to do to you. Like some raw, filthy script of a play long overdue to be performed.

"...and then I want you to put it right back in my pussy and cum in me again and again," she said it right as you pushed through the door. Look, Karina's room isn't that huge, but when you're dying to get your cock into her, going all the way to the bed seemed like such a pain when there was a perfectly good wall right there. You turned and pinned her against it.

There you two stayed for a while, locked in that embrace, kissing and nibbling. She wrestled your shirt off over your head while you peeled up her sports bra. You bent your head down to her chest and kissed along the valley between her breasts. Her soft skin warm against your lips, and you kept pressing them down on her, leaving faint wet marks until you reached one of those pert pink nipples. You cupped her tit and you sucked. Hard.

A little whimper of appreciation followed by a slight tremble through her body was the response.

You went from one to the other. Fingers caressing one and your mouth on the other, switching between them, never fully committing to either, keeping her guessing as to which nipple would feel the bliss next. Karina knew what she wanted, and she simply wouldn't wait. Maybe the rush to get fucked could be blamed for all of this.

See, while you sucked her tits, she pulled down her leggings and her underwear. Maybe it was desperation, maybe it was convenience, but she didn't even pull them past her knees. Instead, as you continued your adoration, she unbuckled your belt and let your trousers fall to the floor. Your underwear didn't last long either. She gave a couple of lazy strokes up the length of your cock, just enough for her to feel it getting hard. Enough for her to know you could give her what she needs.

She twisted between you and the wall and leaned against it; her tits pressing against the white paintwork, and she stuck out her ass. "Don't hold back," she instructed. "I need it."

For all the focus you gave her tits, Karina does have a hell of an ass.

So with her arms up above her head and grasping high, she looked perfect. The swell of her hips, the curve of her ass—it was just to be grabbed and slapped. Those legs looked fucking perfect, slightly muscled from hours of dance practice but still so thin and lean. And between them... fuck. If there's such a thing as a pussy so good it should win awards then Karina better prepare her speech.

You weren't gentle.

Gentle doesn't work for her. Gentle is boring. Normal. Vanilla. Karina's tasted it all before and she's bored. You won't remember the first time she said those words to you. She made you promise not to judge her but she told you exactly how depraved and slutty she really wants to be in bed.

So when she said, "Fuck me hard," you did exactly that.

Spit on your cock was enough to get it slick. You stroked the tip up and down across her waiting pussy a couple of times and found the right place. Then you slid it right inside her, letting it rest buried for just a moment before you pulled back. You didn't even go halfway before you thrust it right back into her. Right down to the balls. Deep as you can go.

A pleasured hiss passed over clenched teeth as her cheek pressed against the wall and she nodded, just once, telling you that she wanted more. You fucked her harder, feeling her hot insides clench at your cock. Her hips smacked against the wall with each thrust, the room echoing with the sounds of your flesh coming together. The squelch of her wet hole was barely audible over her cries. Cries that steadily increased in volume the longer you held her against the wall, the more aggressively you bucked your hips against her, the harder you drove your dick into her body.

"Don't stop!" she cried out as her legs shivered.

No danger of that.

Maybe you should have.

Karina was struggling. To not fall apart in your hands, to hold herself against the wall, but also just to keep breathing as the intensity of your deep pounding washed over her, making her shudder and shake in front of you. One of her hands flew down to between her legs. The tips of her fingers went in a circle around her clit.

But as much fun as taking her against the wall was, she would fall if you continued.

So you did what you knew you could so easily do, just threw her. Her quivering body collapsed onto her bed after a small stumble. Right into the one place in the room, she shouldn't be.

See, Karina was sitting just here, maybe ten minutes earlier. You were watching, on your phone. She had chatted and joked and waved goodbye, just where you were about to fuck her.

She clambered up the bed and onto all fours, looking back at you with lust-drunk eyes, urging you on, needing to be fucked some more. So you crawled right up behind her, took a grip of those beautiful hips and you slipped your cock back inside her.

One stroke and you bottomed out within her.

Two strokes and she began moaning again.

By the third, you were slamming her forward with each push.

The bed creaked in protest as you hammered yourself into Karina, keeping up with what she wanted as she pushed back at you, meeting every buck of your hips with equal force and speed. At least one orgasm tore through her body. You felt it in the way her body contracted around your thick shaft as you drove it deep inside her, but also heard it in the way she screeched through gritted teeth. Saw it as she clawed at the blankets, grabbing handfuls of material and pulling at them as her body tensed up.

"Cum," she pleaded with just the one word.

And that's what you did. Her little pussy made sure of it. Feeling her spasm around you, squeezing your throbbing cock so tightly that you couldn't resist but join her in ecstasy. So you flooded her sweet cunt, sending ropes of cum into her waiting body, painting her walls, feeling every inch of her pussy pulse as her body urged yours to give her everything it had. Her cries mingled with the heavy panting as you emptied your balls within her.

You couldn't keep it up. Fucking Karina sometimes feels too intense, takes so much energy out of you, makes your muscles burn. So you had to withdraw from her and rest back on your haunches, catching your breath, your heart racing. But Karina is Karina.

She turned around and before you could move, she had taken hold of your thighs and moved forward. Her lips wrapped around the tip of your glistening cock and began sucking on it. As her tongue rolled across the slit and along the underside, tasting your seed and her own juices combined. Her cheeks hollowed, eyes staring up at you from behind damp hair and you felt her moans reverberating through you.

How can she do this every time? How can she make you recover so quickly? Because you did. No sooner had Karina placed her head in your lap than you grew hard again. You were left fighting that war against conflicting desires: whether to push her off and have her again or keep the pleasure of having her mouth on you. Every swirl of her tongue across the sensitive parts of your cock, the feeling of her lips gliding along its length, her throat opening and the tightness taking your crown.

"Oh shit..." you groaned. "Are you trying to kill me?"

She didn't answer but you noticed her hips wiggle slowly side-to-side.

It wasn't long before she relinquished the grasp she had on your thighs and let you pull her into position. A roll onto her back. A pillow under her lower back. You hooked one leg over your shoulder while she held the other out wide, laying right on the edge of the bed. You sank into her again and again, rocking the entire bed with each thrust.

And how you only wish now that you had at literally any point taken a look to your right. Maybe you would have questioned why her phone was still there. Maybe you would have made her check the thing was actually off.

Of course, you know now the mistake that Karina made.

You pushed her down into the bed, pressing her leg against her chest as you fucked her. Fucked her deeply. You had changed the tempo now, switched to something slower, more powerful and purposeful. That load you left in her cunt made the whole thing a mess. You pounded into her and it spilt between you, running down her ass and soaking her bedding. Karina gasped as her second climax crashed through her.

Her phone caught it all.

Every minute.

When Karina came, so loud, so hard, so intense that she didn't know who or where she was, people were watching. Her fans watched. When she said your name as she stared up into your eyes with such gratitude, they were listening. And when you came for the second time, she made sure everyone could hear.

"I feel it," she whispered, her fingers digging into your arms. "I feel it. All of it. Give me more. Fill me."

She pulled at her thighs, spreading herself open and making you groan into the crook of her neck as your throbbing dick pulsed, unleashing another load of thick cum deep within her body, making another wonderful mess. Leaving her already soaked cunt saturated. Together you lay like that, two exhausted bodies wrapped in an embrace, your cock twitching, occasionally releasing a few drops inside her. Karina giggled.

"There's nothing better than that feeling," she groaned. "Nothing... better."

She looked right into your eyes as she said it.

"It's my favourite thing in the world."

So you kissed her, both of you falling into the tangled mass of sweat-soaked blankets while you stayed on top of her. She didn't want to let go, not yet, not while the closeness and warmth were shared. Your bodies pressed together with your softening cock still inside her until eventually you slipped out and came to lie beside her. She nestled up against your chest.

In the silence that proceeded, there was a vibration across the room. Your phone is still in your pocket, somewhere on the floor. You let it ring out, while you lay there, breathing heavily. Again it vibrated. "Ugh," you groaned, "Leave me alone."

"Is someone missing you?" Karina teased.

"Doubt it," you replied.

Karina let her hand trace patterns across your chest, moving slowly towards your hip. You knew the game. Get you hard again, and ride you into the middle of next week. It worked, too. Even though you protested, her hand wrapping around your shaft soon brought it back to life. Sensitive strokes had you squirming and groaning.

"Well, whoever it is will just have to deal with the fact you're mine tonight," she purred.

Then you heard an unusual noise. Another buzz. But not your phone. From somewhere else. But you paid it no attention as Karina got up from your chest, swung her leg over you and began lowering herself down onto you. What started as slow gentle fucking quickly progressed back to something far hungrier and desperate. Her nails dragged lines across your torso, your hands gripping tightly at her waist to steady her. You watched as your cum leaked out of her cunt and onto you as she rode.

You reached between her legs and scooped up a blob, bringing it to her lips.

"Lick it," you told her. "Taste it."

And she opened wide for your fingers and cleaned them up. "That's what you wanted?"

"Yeah. Tell me what it tastes like."

"Tastes like us," she moaned, fucking you faster, pushing you deeper.

Then she leaned back, making a show of the way she rolled her hips against you. Bouncing as she impaled herself on you. Her head rolled back and her eyes closed as another orgasm approached. It built slowly, the intensity growing higher and higher until she teetered on the edge, balanced between bliss and rapture. The way her tits bounced had you hypnotised. Focus locked on her. Ignoring the phone that continued to ring.

She was close. Really close. Riding you frantically. Her moans turned into short desperate gasps until she had no voice left. You heard the scream before and saw how hard she came, but now you had front-row seats to watch it all again. Her muscles tightened and spasmed. Her rhythm faltered.

Your phone rang.

"Shit. Oh fuck!" she screamed, throwing her head back, arching her spine and freezing mid-thrust.

Her cunt gripped you tightly. Squeezing, milking. Urging you to release within her once more and give her that final gift. You felt her leak over you. Watched as her pussy throbbed as she rode out those final moments, struggling to continue as her strength failed. You grabbed her hips and did the work. Thrusting up into her repeatedly. Feeling her cum dribbling down your shaft and over your balls. Fuck, she's messy.

She panted desperately and let her arms drop by her side, staying arched and leaning back. You helped her balance. She needed it.

Your phone kept ringing.

You ignored it. You fucked up into her, wanting nothing more than to cum inside her again. Your muscles burned. You clenched your teeth. The pressure in your lower abdomen was unbearable. But you pounded up into Karina, making her call out with each thrust, while your grip on her probably turned her hips purple. The pleasure in you rose and rose, so fast, so intense, and without warning it broke.

You came again.

Holding her down and shooting your cum deep inside her. Gasping for air as you did, flooding her body with rope after rope until her insides dripped. Her thighs became glazed in the evidence of your passion.

Then you lowered her down to lie against your chest and you held her close. Until her breathing settled and you could hear her purr, "I think you've outdone yourself this time."

"I think you'll kill me," you joked in return.

"But imagine how happy I'd be if you died from giving me too many orgasms."

A laugh. Another vibration. "Whoever that is must really need me," you grumbled.

"Fuck them," she laughed.

"Why, when I can keep fucking you?"

Karina bit her lip. She seemed pleased with that answer. Then you realised that even as you softened within her, she hadn't stopped grinding against you. Making those slow circles, keeping herself stimulated and trying to get you hard again.

"You're relentless," you marvelled.

"And you love it."

"I love-"

There's a bang at the door and then a bell.

Karina groaned. She sighed. She relented.

Then she rolled off your spent cock, letting it slip from her swollen cunt and you both stared at the ceiling. "Maybe they'll go away?" you mused. They didn't.

"Come on," she huffed. "Stay there. Let me get rid of them."

You listened to her walk across the hardwood floor in her bare feet. Unstable steps courtesy of your enthusiastic rutting.

She pulled on a robe and left the room. Your phone vibrated again as she left, so finally you rolled out of the bed, crawled to find your pants and pulled the damn thing out.

More missed calls and messages than you could count, and not just one person. Your friends, Karina's friends, and... Karina's manager? Face recognition kicked in and the phone unlocked. You're staring at Karina's messy bed.

You're staring at Karina's messy bed on your screen.

The icon has the word 'live' beside it.

You're staring at Karina's messy bed on Instagram Live.

Your heart stops beating. Your breath catches in your throat. You swallow nothing. Wait. One. Two. Three.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" is the scream from across the apartment. You look at the phone again. Karina's messy bed, on Instagram Live, with millions of viewers.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

That was when the realisation of your combined carelessness struck you both—separated by a wall, finding out from two different sources.

Now, they're calling it the scandal of the century. A downright disaster.

[sloaneispunk]

“betrayal at its cost”

dark!frontman (hwang in-ho) x you

when in-ho could no longer keep up with his facade, he had to choose between gi-hun or you

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

part one

“i think the control room is right above us! we just need to push past the guards, can you buy us some time?!” gi-hun shouted over the roar of gunfires.

“are you sure? what if you can’t find it?” you asked, slumping behind a wall as you reloaded your gun with the last bit of ammunition you had.

in-ho watched closely as you carefully held the now fully loaded gun. he noticed your entire being trembling, shaking even, with adrenaline or fear, your eyes were filled with regret as the team fought hard against the guards.

“jung-bae! come with me, the rest of you should stay here and help y/n and in-ho!”

“but we’re almost out of ammunition! they’re going to notice soon!” hyun-ju stated, noticing the last few rounds everyone had.

everyone sat in silence for a brief moment. it was as though the reality of the situation had just hit. nobody had any idea how they were going to outsmart the guards, let alone the front man.

just then, you leaned forward towards a guards motionless body not too far away. in-ho instinctively shielded your body from the guards which somehow stopped firing their guns at that exact moment.

it was strange, but there was no time to argue.

you reached inside the pocket of the guard, fumbling around before you pulled your hand out, just one round of ammunition for the guns in hand.

“i think they all have an extra round in their jackets! we just have to head to the room where we came from, get the ammo and we’ll be able to push them further back enough to reach the control room.” you said as everyone nodded.

in-ho however, looked at you with a small glimmer in his eyes. maybe you were smarter than he thought, he loved it. but then again came a question, how will he deceive you when the time comes for him to be the frontman again?

“i’ll go!” dae-ho exclaimed, raising his hand high in the air.

“i’ll go with yo-”

“no. you’re staying here.” in-ho cut you off.

“but-”

“no, dae-ho will be okay. you should stay and help us.” in-ho argued, making you frown in confusion.

“come back as soon as you can dae-ho, we’re all counting on you.” player 246 said as dae-ho nodded.

with that, dae-ho, gi-hun and jung-bae were off, leaving you panting heavily as the gunfires refused to cease.

“you’re shaking.” in-ho stated, taking your hand.

“i’m okay, it’s just the adrenaline.” you tried to play it off, pulling your hand away when a bullet shot right past your shoulder.

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

part two

what gi-hun wasn’t expecting was the number of guards who were expecting them. he and jung-bae had no choice but to take over behind walls of a staircase where they had nowhere else to go.

“what do we do, gi-hun? we’re running out of ammo!” jung-bae shouted, sweat dripping from his forehead.

“we wait for dae-ho to come back. he’ll give us the ammo we need and we can get to the control room!” gi-hun replied as he picked up the walkie talkie. “in-ho! as soon as dae-ho gets back, get him to come give us the ammo, we don’t have much time!”

“got it.” in-ho replied.

“i don’t think they can last! i’ll go up and help them, you guys wait for dae-ho!” he instructed the group. “y/n and you come with me.” he said, pointing to another player.

the three of you grabbed your guns and headed up the way gi-hun went. somehow, in-ho didn’t look like he was afraid at all. he didn’t bother inspecting each corner to check if it was safe and he knew where every turn was.

something was definitely wrong with this and you knew it.

when you found gi-hun and jung-bae, they were hanging on for dear life. there were way too many guards up on the staircase for them to take down alone.

“in-ho, you’re here! where’s the ammo?” gi-hun asked.

“dae-ho hasn’t came back, i figured we come help you in the meantime.” he replied, easily shaking off the fact that he had just abandoned the plan.

“i think i saw another way behind on the way here, we should check it out. we might be able to take the guards down from there.” you explained as gi-hun nodded.

“stay safe, keep the walkie’s on… in-ho, take this.”gi-hun took his last round of ammo he had, giving it to in-ho.

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

part three

“you sure you know the way?” in-ho asked as you led the way as you insisted. “i don’t think it’s that way, my dear.”

“i swear it is!” you insisted, turning the corner but again, you were met with a wall.

“you’re cute. it’s this way.” in-ho said, pulling you back from the way you came from.

“how do you know?”

“i’m just more observant than you.” he shrugged.

believe or not, in-ho was somehow right. he led you right behind the guards that threatened gi-hun and jung-bae.

you took your place carefully behind a wall, aiming your gun, so did in-ho and the other guy.

but just as you were about to take a shot, an even louder one rang loudly. you dropped your gun and dropped to the floor, your back slamming against the wall as you covered your ears. the shot was near, it wasn’t something aimed at the guards further up.

when the ringing came to a stop, you checked yourself, seeing if it was a shot that hit you. when you were clear you looked at in-ho.

his demeanour had changed, he had a cold look on his face, the same cheerful in-ho gone. looking down, you saw his hand…

the gun in hand, pointed straight at your fellow player while now laid on the floor in a puddle of blood, choking.

“in-ho?” you managed to utter out, body growing cold in fear of the man standing in front of you.

“yes?” he replied, drawing back his gun, eyes not meeting yours.

“w-what… did someone shoot-? how?” tears were now forming in your eyes as you crawled towards the body, pressing your hand against the man’s wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

“y/n, please step away from him.” in-ho asked, voice calmer than ever.

when you didn’t budge, he asked once more, extending his hand out to you. “please y/n?”

you slowly moved away from the body, taking his hand.

it was so wrong, you knew that he did it. he had double-crossed you, but why were you still being drawn in by him? you couldn’t help but follow whatever he asked you to.

“good girl, now come here.” in-ho smiled, wrapping his hands around you, holding you tightly in a hug. he kissed the top of your head as you let out shorts breaths.

he took the walkie talkie from his pocket, bringing it up, slightly pulling away from you.

you took a step back, but in-ho held on tightly to your arm.

“young-il? what’s going on? did you take them down?” you heard gi-hun over the walkie.

you opened your mouth to call for help but in-ho moved quickly, bringing his hand from your arm to your mouth.

“gi-hun…” in-ho said into the walkie, faking an exasperated voice. “…they got us, i’m sorry… it’s over.”

he then leaned down towards the poor player choking on the ground on his own blood. the gurgles of his blood sounded so ghastly.

“no! young-il! young-il? what’s going on?! what do you mean?!” gi-hun shouted, his voice being echoed throughout the stairway.

then in-ho changed the channel of the walkie talkie.

‘wrap it up.’

you struggled under his grip. you weren’t sure what to do, but you knew in-ho was not the man he was anymore. this man was a monster, a betrayer at it’s finest.

“are you scared?” in-ho asked, cocking his head to the side.

you nodded.

“but i’m still the same young-il. the young-il you trust, the one you love.” he smiled. “let’s go, we have so much to do together!”

[tobeholyistobeempty]

“here’s what’s gonna’ happen.” he mutters, kissing the gun up your neck, leaning an elbow on your thigh. “m’gonna answer this call, you’re gonna’ talk. be honest for daddy. tell em’ you’re tied up.”

so fucking obsessed with the idea of a you x ghost lovers-turned-enemies who just can’t stay the fuck away from eachother. it’s gross and it’s toxic and it’s brutal and it’s probably more insane than it should be but with all the war around you it’s one of the only fucking things left that makes you actually feel alive, so inevitably you end up back under him in new inventive ways each time you cross paths.

maybe you’re working for shadow company during the time graves decides to betray 141 - perhaps you didn’t know it was going to happen because you weren’t directly involved with that mission, after all, but with your rank, ghost has a hard goddamn time believing anything otherwise - no matter how many times he turns it over in his head.

so when he sees you - rather, when you all too conveniently find yourselves in the same map dot city, some shithole for some hellscape intel search while graves and his team are still actively after them - it’s all a little too much for him.

ghost doesn’t know who you’re serving, what your loyalty is, and decides that maybe he’ll just have to get that information out of you himself.

but that’s all little to your knowledge - because you don’t even know the fucker knows you’re here. it’s been a long fucking day. you’re already exhausted, graves has all but sent you to deathrow to chase dead end leads in circles, and everything just keeps getting worse with each passing day. but it’s late, and the motel that you’re staying in has a decent bar that you think you’d like to take advantage of.

you decide one quick drink can’t hurt, can it?

ha.

about as famous last words as any. because, turns out, it can. yes, it can hurt.

it can actually hurt real fucking good when the living embodiment of every mortal man’s nightmares decides (at the most convenient of times, because just so happens you left your gun back in your room) that he’s got questions for you, and isn’t too fucking keen on waiting for answers.

he strikes when the lights have gone out and the bar has closed. when the motel has fallen silent and the only noise is your footsteps as you creep down the hallway that leads to your door. you, however foolishly, drop your guard, thinking you have fuck all to worry about at this point - when suddenly the shadows by your door shift, and the owner of the hand that has the muzzle of a fucking gun pressed to the back of your head tells you that your mistake was waiting until so late, coming here so alone, and not realizing that the shadows in this place are not empty but instead filled with men that can see you just a little bit better than you can see them.

but when the voice sinks in, and you merely smile - dread subsiding as you ask him what took him so damn long to find you - he decides he isn’t too fond of the response. you’re inside your decrepit room only in a few moments after that, tied to a chair, and he’s just looking at you like he can’t quite figure out what’s so damn funny.

you let him have the win, you always do. you know that despite it all, when he’s infront of you like this, it’s never as ghost.

simon riley could never hurt you. not truly.

“who knows you’re here?” he husks, pale eyes surveying the room in a quick sweep. for show, you’re sure. he mapped every inch of this room before he’d even stepped foot inside.

you suck your teeth, fighting to let that shit-eating grin spread. “you mean like, my mom? dad? sister—“

“watch it.” he cuts you off, and the muzzle made of cool steel is pressed at the side of your jaw, shifting your head, turning it away from his. “y’know how i feel about tha’ smart fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

“stupid questions get stupid answers.” you reply back sweetly, tilting your head a little so the steel digs in harder, amplifying the ache for the hell of it. “you’ve got a gun at my jaw, LT. talk to me straight.”

there’s silence, until there’s a hum - he shifts then, crouching beside your chair, stalling at eye level with you. “talk t’ya straight, huh.”

“you act like i don’t know why you’re here.” your chest feels tight, with the way he’s looking at you. it’s a battle with an army of its own to push it down. “you’re looking for the big man, aren’t you? graves. heard he—“

the press of his gun softens momentarily as his free hand finds the other side of your jaw, tilting your eyes back to him, forcing you to look him right in that dead fuckin stare of his.

“y’best be real careful about lying t’me, princess.”

“you can kiss my ass.” you smile thinly, and in the darkness you think you see his eyes gleam, but whether it’s out of irritation or out of something else entirely, you can’t be sure. you exhale. “i had nothing to do with graves’ little villain arc. i don’t know fuck all about it, or where he currently is. you’re wasting your breath.”

the muzzle of his gun trails down, down along your jaw and throat, sparking gooseflesh to life.

“liar.” he rasps, and despite all your moral instincts screaming at you that this is all but a shade off insane, when it comes to this behemoth of a man before you your depraved instincts are just a tad stronger. and when your thighs tense, he notices. “what’s it gonna take, mm? t’get ya talkin.”

you exhale a breath you didn’t even know you were holding - and ghost smiles. you see it through the crease in his mask - but just when he goes to speak again, your fucking cellphone, buried in your jacket pocket, starts to ring.

“well if that ain’t just my fucking luck.” you don’t need to see it to know who’s calling. you ignored check in twice already. too busy at the bar, drowning your sorrows. “ghost, listen—“

oh, he’s listening, alright. listening to the sound of that fucking ringtone filling the space between your words. you can’t tell he’s cocking an eyebrow at you, his eyes not leaving yours as he shifts a hand, reaching for your pocket. you open your mouth, but he’s already withdrawing your phone, snorting after a fleeting glance at the name lit up on it.

he turns it to you, and you try to fight it - but you can’t stop the deadpan. no matter how much you’d already known it would be him.

graves.

“here’s what’s gonna’ happen.” he mutters, kissing the gun up your neck, leaning an elbow on your thigh. “m’gonna answer this call, you’re gonna’ talk. be honest for daddy. tell em’ you’re tied up.”

oh, dear go—

“this your fucking idea of a loyalty test?” you hiss, and you can suddenly feel your blood roaring in your ears, your heart hammering. “are you insane?”

that’s a redundant question, you think, and ghost must agree, because his only answer is to shift the gun in a way that allows him to press a fingertip against your pulse.

you swallow - he’s checking for pulse leaps like a fucking lie detector.

“mhm.” he purrs, absolutely loving this - before pressing a button on your phone, and a low rumble of anticipation rocks through you.

he’s put it on speaker - and the second it connects, graves is talking.

“sergeant.” he all but barks, and you tense, closing your eyes at the sound of his voice. he’s pissed. “where the fuck are you? you missed two of—“

“sorry, sir.” you say through your teeth, flicking your eyes to ghost. he just tilts his head, as if he’s saying go on, show me that you’re still mine. christ. “i uh, got a little…tied up.”

there’s a brief silence, presumably as graves just stands there (you can envision it in your head, crease in his eyebrows, hand clutching his phone - trying to determine what the fuck that means) before he eventually clears his throat.

“and what could you possibly have gotten yourself so tied up with that you can’t report in on time?” he asks, and you want to laugh, because if only he knew. your hands tense against the ropes, and he speaks again. “that was a rhetorical question, sergeant. you’d better have a damn good excuse for this.”

oh, you definitely have a good excuse, though you’re pretty sure that if you were to tell graves who it was that had you so very busy right now, he might just turn into fairy dust and transport himself through the phone to try and kill you both. (keyword, try.)

you open your mouth to answer but words disintegrate as ghost shifts, standing to his full height.

you look up at him, and the blood that rushes to your stomach is something catastrophic - so disarming that you almost forget graves is still on the goddamn line. you blink, and you’re about to say something, when ghost does something you don’t expect; he tucks the gun back into his holster, before moving to the buckle of his belt.

oh - oh.

“christ,” you breathe out, before you even realize it. and when ghost shoves the phone closer to your face, you realize you couldn’t give less of a fuck about graves at this moment. “sir—graves, i was fucking busy, okay? i had shit to do. you’re the one who sent me out here, into this goddamn nightmare, to do your grunt work. should i be really sitting around waiting for your call while you’re out sucking off the general?” the silence that answers you is deafening. and so is the rage you can suddenly feel permeating the air. you suck your teeth when he doesn’t answer. “right, well. if you don’t mind, i’d like to go the fuck to bed. i’ll call in first thing tomorrow.”

ghost’s fingers drift, starting to undo the latch and you know, with your heart and bloodied soul - that he’s smiling right now.

you hear a low, rumbling growl coming over the other end of the line - it takes you a moment to realize it’s coming from graves - and the next thing you hear is the dial tone as he hangs up, presumably plotting the ways he’s going to make your life hell for the next unforeseeable future.

but then, the belt buckle of ghost’s belt is undone, your phone is tossed somewhere behind him, and you find yourself smirking up at him with glistening lips.

“now, look what you made me do.” you whisper, a lazy drawl. “always doubting me, huh. insane fuck.”

and ghost just snorts at the insult, before taking off one of his gloves with his teeth and shoving it into your mouth. you groan at the sudden taste of leather and dust that touches your tongue - but when he leans over you, lips at your ear, it’s a little too easily forgotten.

“quiet now.” he murmurs, with an audible smile. your eyes close at the sound, and his breath against your neck makes you want to scream. “no more talkin’ less you’re good n’ beggin’ f’me put that mouth to proper use.”

you want to spit at him, just for the fun of it, but settle for biting down on the glove as you shift, trying to bring your legs together. but then he’s crouching between them again, pushing them back open with his bulk, and you can only groan as he rips the leather from your mouth.

“if he finds out,” the words spill out without much thought - as you stare into his eyes. “he’ll—“

“mmm.” he hums, leaning in to press his teeth against your jaw. “he’ll what.”

oh, the things your mouth should say. but if you’re being honest, the only thing you want your mouth to say right now is please.

“i’ll - i’ll be the next one getting shot at.” you hiss out as his hands find your thighs. “christ. untie me, asshole.”

“y’jus told the boss you’re tied up.” he mutters back, and from the heat of his breath alone, you know he’s smiling again. “wouldn’t’ wanna’ make a liar outta’ y’self now, would ya?”

————————————-

a/n: the way i would let this man ruin me is concerning.

[delugyu]

okay, i relent, here’s part two for the beomgyu drabble, you insatiable freaks!!!!

(wc: 3.2k / warnings: absolutely no jealousy anywhere at all, beomgyu being mega pathetic, oral (m rec.), masturbation, virgin!reader, okay maybe a smidge of jealousy)

beomgyu can’t lie and say that he didn’t jump a little when he got your text. who knew that a simple can i come over? would be enough to stir his cock to life. he’s thought about you every day this week with his hand shoved down his pants, playing back the memories over and over again of kissing you and having you touch him. you’ve become the fog inside his brain, haunting him and keeping him from ever being normal.

his legs bounce in anxiety and impatience as he waits for you. if it didn’t make him look like a pathetic bitch, he’d be kneeling by the front door, ready to tend to you from the moment you come in. you wouldn’t even be able to get two steps into his place before his head would be between your thighs.

he waits on his bed instead, still trying to convince himself he’s tougher than he is. he feels the way he jitters though—he’s not fooling himself. his body reacts before his brain does when he hears his apartment door open. he tenses and swipes his phone into his hands, so when you open the door he doesn’t look like he’s been sitting here waiting.

his eyes dart to you the second you’re entering his room. he’s never seen you in a skirt this short before. are you doing this on purpose? did you want to make him snap? your perfume fills the air, that sweet and warm fragrance that suddenly has beomgyu feeling like some dog.

“hi,” you say, closing the door behind you and standing politely by his bed. beomgyu shuts his phone off to give you his full attention—you already had it anyway, but he just wanted to look cool. he smiles at you and makes room for you on the bed, patting the space next to him.

“what’s up?” his eyes linger on your skirt as you situate yourself on the bed. the expanse of your thighs start looking like uncharted territory for him to mark up. his gaze returns to your face once he realizes how pervy he must look, not wanting to look like some freak.

“not much,” you answer. you look away from him, and he thinks maybe he was staring too hard.

“no? what brings you here then?” he can’t hide his grin, he just thinks it’s so cute when you try to hide your motives. you both know why you’re here.

you look at him with a bit of surprise when his hand falls on your thigh. it’s at a respectable distance from your core—it’s really not even close enough to seem raunchy—but it’s still enough to have you looking all scandalized. beomgyu bites his tongue to hold back a laugh; he doesn’t want to be mean and embarrass you.

“i wanted some advice,” you say, shifting a bit in place.

beomgyu raises a brow. “advice?” you nod. “on what?” he asks.

you hesitate for a second. “taehyun,” you answer. beomgyu has to fight the immature instinct to roll his eyes. he takes his hand off your thigh, and he tells himself that it’s definitely not because he’s bitter.

“okay. what about him?” it’s not jealousy burning in the pit of his stomach. he doesn't care that you’re thinking of taehyun when you’re sitting right next to him. he hopes taehyun’s the best fucking thing in your life, that he’ll want you even half as much as beomgyu does.

so no, it’s not jealousy. beomgyu’s perfectly content with only getting secret, stolen moments with you, while taehyun gets to flaunt you on his arm like some accessory anywhere he wants.

“i was wondering, how do you give a blowjob?” your question cuts through him like a knife. you want to give taehyun a blowjob?!

he hates how his dick strains in his pants when you say that. he’s been hard before you even got here. he spent his nights fisting his cock, milking himself dry thinking about you, and here you are doing all this for some other guy.

your eyes hold all the brightness they always do, and it works to at least melt him enough to get over himself. he gives you a smile and leans in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “i’ll show you. get on the floor for me, okay?” he brushes your hair back with a considerate hand, then gives you one more lingering kiss.

watching you kneel before him makes beomgyu feel feral. he has to stop himself from whipping out his cock now and using your pretty mouth like some toy. he stands in front of you, looking down at you with a grin. he pats your head, thinking that you look so adorable when you look up at him like this.

he thinks he could cum just from this—you kneeling in front of him, listening to him so well—it makes him ache. you’re so eager, so willing, so trusting. he wonders if you’d still trust him if you knew all the things he wants to do with you. would you still let him teach you everything if you knew he wanted to take you in front of taehyun, make him listen to you moan out beomgyu’s name? or how he wants to steal your panties and shoot load after load into them, using them until he’s spent and the lacy material is useless?

your fingers linger at the hem of his sweatpants, blinking up at him for permission. he’s not sure why it makes his heart skip a beat—he’s kind of more focused on the way it makes his cock jump.

“you can take them off,” he says, watching as you slide his sweatpants down. he tries not to get too heady or let some power rush get to him, but it’s a hard task when you look so perfectly usable right now. he hisses when you lay your hand over his erection, still confined by his boxers. he rakes his fingers through your hair and smiles down at you.

you peel his boxers off slowly, and beomgyu might’ve thought you were teasing him if he didn’t know you’re a virgin. he wonders if you’re nervous. you’ve never sucked a dick before, so he knows not to expect you to be a pro. he’s honored enough to be the one who gets to teach you this.

you bring a hand to his cock when it springs free, just holding it and staring at it for some time. you take a deep breath like you’re stressed and preparing yourself.

“you okay?” beomgyu asks, searching your eyes for any discomfort. you send him a small smile.

“sorry, i’m still getting ready,” you say. you jerk him a little, letting your thumb spread the precum at his tip. it makes him groan and throw his head back. where the hell did you learn that?

“take your time, we’ll go at your pace,” beomgyu says, keeping his voice as still as he can, focusing hard to not stutter or trip over his words. you continue to slowly stroke him, and it’s taking all of beomgyu’s self control to not push his hips forward and fuck your fist as he pleases.

your lips are in a pout now, and beomgyu suppresses the urge to coo at you. “what’s wrong?” he asks, looking down at you with pitiful eyes. you look like you’re deep in contemplation.

“i don’t know if it will fit,” you say as you stare at his cock. it kills beomgyu how you don’t know what your words do to him, unless you register the way his dick twitches in your hand.

“just take what you can,” he says, running a hand down your face and brushing your cheek with his thumb. he really, really wants to feel your mouth around him, but he’ll let you do that when you’re ready. he reminds himself over and over again to not go too far, no matter how bad he wants to use you like his own little doll.

you shift closer to him, face right by his tip now, and it makes beomgyu bite his lip in anticipation. he nearly feels his legs shaking. fuck, he’s been thinking about this all week, he needed this for so long.

“y-you can start with just licking, if you want,” beomgyu offers. your tongue meets his tip the next second, swirling around it and making him whine. holy shit. he bites his tongue until he almost tastes blood. that was so embarrassing. he needs to keep his cool.

you hold up his dick by the base to lick a stripe down his shaft, looking up at him for approval. god, beomgyu wishes he was sitting down. he feels weak in the knees.

“doing so good, keep going,” beomgyu praises, stomach clenched tight at the pleasure. he won’t be able to last if you put your mouth around him. he almost hopes you save that for another day, when he actually has enough willpower to not cum immediately from it.

you run your tongue back up to his tip, pressing kitten licks to his slit. his fist tightens in your hair, needing to grip onto something and keep his legs from giving in. not even biting his lip can hold back his moans when you just barely wrap your lips around his tip, sucking experimentally.

“t-take it slow, baby,” he says, moreso for his sake than yours. he’ll be blowing his load in an embarrassingly short amount of time if you keep this up. he swears he’s not a minute man usually, he doesn’t know why he keeps making himself look like one with you.

you go back to licking his cock, looking so delicious that beomgyu’s having trouble keeping his eyes on you without his balls tightening. he wonders if your panties are slick with your arousal, if they’re sticking to your folds, if he’d see a nice wet outline your pussy if he just pushed your skirt a little higher. he’s feeling dizzy at the thought.

you make matters worse when your mouth envelops his cock again, going down a little further this time. “fuck!” he moans out, fist returning to your hair. he’s almost shaking from how hard he’s holding back. you pull back after a few seconds to catch your breath, granting him enough of a reprieve to collect himself.

you continue to take him just a little further each time, but never quite getting that far. he doesn’t even want to give you advice, too scared of cumming and having this all be over with. he’ll let you figure it out; you seem really receptive to what makes him moan and shake anyway.

when you pull off again, a string of saliva connects his tip to your lips. it’s so crude and dirty—he burns the image into his mind to use for later. your hand works over his cock, spreading your saliva down to the base so it’s all slick.

“how is it?” you ask, seeking his approval yet again. something about it makes beomgyu feel insane.

“perfect,” he says breathlessly, appreciating the winning smile that spreads across your face at that. you place a cute little kiss at his slit, making beomgyu swoon.

you return your lips around him, getting almost halfway down now. your mouth is so wet and warm around him, and he thinks you might’ve been made for him. you’re learning so well, doing everything just right. you’re so good—too good to let go, too good to let run back to taehyun.

you moan around his cock, the vibrations sending a shiver down beomgyu’s spine. his brain stops working completely when he sees your hand move between your legs, rubbing your fingers against your clothed pussy for some relief. his grip on your hair tightens, and his hips jolt forward to thrust further into your mouth. he assesses you to make sure you’re okay before he keeps going, letting himself fuck into your welcoming little mouth. he can be selfish this one time.

“shit—suck a little harder, baby,” he says, panting as he continues fucking into you. the extra suction almost makes his knees buckle. watching your fingers circle desperately and clumsily against your clit is making him spiral; he thinks about pulling you up and showing you how it’s done. your pussy must be aching so bad for him.

your tongue swirls against his tip, and he cums before he can stop himself. his hips buck further into your mouth as he lets out a moan, cock twitching as he feels himself hit the back of your throat. he knows he should pull back and let you breathe, but he’s out of his mind and barely thinking straight.

“fuck, take it, god, you’re so good,” he rambles as he soothes his hand through your hair. you look up at him with watery eyes, and he can’t believe how good you’re being for him. for being a virgin, you really do make for a pretty little slut.

once he’s emptied, he pulls out, catching his breath and staring at your fucked out face. you remove your hands from between your thighs, suddenly looking all shy.

“why’d you stop?” he asks, urging your thighs back open with his foot. he has enough decency to not drop to the floor and stare at the junction of your thighs, even if that’s all he wants to do right now.

“i—you finished,” you explain, looking up at him with a confused pout. beomgyu thinks he might be feral. you have him acting like a dog.

he pulls you up and sits you on the bed, kneeling in front of you on the floor. adrenaline rushes through his veins, unable to take it anymore. he really needs to see your cunt.

“will you let me touch you this time? please?” beomgyu finds out today that he’s a begging man—something he previously considered himself above being. you look at him with wide eyes that scan him like he’s lost his mind.

his head rests on your thigh, eyes flitting to your skirt to see if he can see beneath it, to no avail. he looks at you with all the hope and urgency he could possibly convey, trying to make you see how serious this is for him.

“can you at least touch yourself for me?” he asks. you gasp, scandalized at his words, and he can’t act like he cares how perverted he’s being. he’ll do anything for just a peek. his hands find your thighs, ready to pry them open whenever you let him.

“why?” you ask. beomgyu doesn’t have a good reason. this isn’t to teach you anything. he’s just being selfish.

“cause i need it,” he answers. you bring a hesitant hand back to your center. “yes, thank you,” beomgyu says, watching with diligent eyes as he spreads your legs open to invite your hand in. he could almost cry when he sees your ruined panties. they’re soaked through, practically useless now. he wants to lean forward and run his tongue over it.

“like this..?” your voice is so shaky, hand so uncertain as it rubs down your slit. beomgyu can’t rip his gaze from your cunt, eyes blown out with lust as they follow your fingers through your folds.

“a little harder,” he instructs, unblinking as he watches you obey. you press down with more force, and beomgyu feels it when your thighs start to tremble. he thinks about pushing your panties aside and dipping his finger in knuckle deep. you must be wet enough to accommodate that easily. he’d do everything right, touch you just like you want.

you gasp and run your fingers on your clit, and beomgyu can’t help it when his hands start inching up your thighs. he wants more, he needs to be the reason why you cum. he’s getting greedy, squeezing your thighs and kissing your legs. it’s all he can do to keep himself from pushing your hand away and showing you how it’s done.

“can’t i do this for you?” he asks, inching his hand up even further. his fingertip grazes the hem of your panties, tracing it lightly. he thinks he’s being amazingly patient for how desperate he is.

you bring a fingertip to tease your clothed entrance, palm resting on your clit. beomgyu whines at the sight. you’re going to cum before he even gets his hands on you. how is this fair?!

you don’t even answer him, you’re too far off in your own world, pleasuring your virgin pussy like he’s not even here. he licks your thighs, kisses a trail that gets dangerously close to your cunt, holds your legs open with a grip that’s a little too forceful, but none of it gets your attention.

he doesn’t want to be bitter. he doesn’t want to be mad. the words just leave him before he can stop himself. “i bet you let taehyun touch you.”

your eyes finally open, and a part of him is glad to have your attention back. “i don’t,” you answer. his words only seemed to deter you for a second, because you fall back into your rhythm before beomgyu could do anything with the three seconds of attention you spared him.

he nips your thigh, licks up and up and up until he can smell your arousal, nose practically touching your busy hand. he can tell immediately when you cum—your thighs fight against his grip, moans roll off your tongue shamelessly, your hips roll up into your hand.

this is so stupid. he would’ve had your thighs shaking way more, would’ve had you spewing out nonsense as he fucked you into the best orgasm of your life. you should have tears rolling down your cheeks. you should be worn out and exhausted. you shouldn’t be able to just get up and go like it’s nothing. beomgyu watches with a pout as you readjust yourself in the mirror.

“thanks again, gyu,” you say when you turn back to him with a smile. he’s sitting on the bed now, and you press a kiss to his cheek. he wishes it didn’t make his heart flutter. he still wants to be mad at you.

“when are you coming over again?” he asks as he grabs your hand.

“why?” you giggle.

“there’s more i want to show you.” he’ll think of whatever excuse he can. he just needs more of you.

“like what?”

shit. how does he word this without making it about him? “like what to do when a guy goes down on you.”

you laugh at his words, then look down to check your phone. “maybe next time,” you say. “i’ll see you, gyu.” you’re gone before he can stop you.

this is some cosmic joke. when the hell is ‘next time’ gonna be?! you’re testing beomgyu’s patience here. he holds onto hope that you mean it when you say that, reeling at the idea of getting to eat you out. he prays the universe doesn’t torment him again with fantasies of you in your absence. he doesn’t think he can handle another week of this.

[aealzx]

As Sonic slammed through the enemy’s weapons Knuckles slid to a stop next to Shadow and threw his body protectively over the black hedgehog’s smaller form, a hand resting on Shadow’s head, and face turning to snarl at the soldiers. Only when significant damage had been done did Sonic skid to a stop, standing between the soldiers and Shadow with his arms spread wide, blue lightning rippling off his form. The quiet that fell over the field wasn’t complete, but it was still numbing. “Stay down, new hedgehog. I’ll keep you safe,” Knuckles spoke quietly to Shadow when he tried to push himself up despite the form over him. He smelled of blood mixed with ash, and Knuckles could hear the slight wheeze in his painfully heavy breaths. It was a simple command, but Knuckles was uncertain if the way Shadow’s form relaxed after a moment was a good thing or not. He seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes open.

____________

“Mr. Wachowski. Care to enlighten me why you’re here?” Commander Walters returned the greeting. “Well, I live here,” Tom answered with a brief smile. “Green Hills is right over there, in case you weren’t aware. We’d appreciate it if the military wasn’t firing off weapons so close to town.” “A minor incident. We have it under control, and will be leaving shortly.” Sonic snorted and opened his mouth to shoot a bitter reply, but Tom stopped him with a hand. “Great! Well then, I’ll just pick up my kids, and we’ll pretend this never happened. We can tell the town you were cleaning up a rogue Eggman drone?” Tom suggested brightly. That got Commander Walters to crack a fake smile. “Ah. Yes, that should do nicely.” “Cool! Keeping it simple. I like it,” Tom breathed, clapping his hands together and turning slightly. “Honey, is kid number four safe to move?” “Four?” Commander Walters spoke in mildly confused protest. “Uhhhhh yeah. Two right here, and then two over there with Maddie makes four,” Tom returned easily, pointing to Sonic and Tails near him, and then Knuckles and Shadow as Maddie reached them. Commander Walters cleared his throat. “I’m sorry Mr. Wachowski, there seems to be a misunderstanding. Project Shadow is property of G.U.N.. I can’t allow you to take it.” “Huh,” Tom voiced, forcing a pause. “That’s strange. I thought slavery was illegal in the United States.” “You know what I mean.” “No, I actually don’t. Care to enlighten me how kidnapping a lost child and subjecting him to experimentation and indefinite imprisonment is something the government does?” Commander Walters’ expression twitched, and Tom started nodding his head. “Yeah, we figured some things out,” Tom confirmed the unspoken, possible question. It prompted Commander Walters to change tactics, shifting his shoulders and drawing a breath for a new conversation. “We’re simply containing a dangerous weapon. It’s standard procedure.” “Excuse me? The only dangerous weapon we’ve had to deal with recently was that moon slicing cannon your people built. The one that my kids stopped, because some nutcase stole it from you. Remember that?” “Didn’t he almost kill you in the process?” “Because he thought I was you!” Tom snapped. ”And seeing what you've done to him now I can see why his first reaction to seeing you was to fight!” “He's dangerous-” “He is a child!” Tom bellowed. “And if you would treat him as one, as a person, instead of a weapon he may have come to like you instead of wanting to kill you the moment he saw you! Now are you going to take my suggestion and get the hell out of here without a fuss, or are we going to have to do this the hard way?”

____________________

“I think he passed out.” Maddie faltered for a moment, but then pushed through, somewhat reassured since they were already in the clinic. “Alright. That’s okay, bring him over here,” Maddie directed, pointing to a shallow bathing station. “We need to get him clean. Can you get his gloves and shoes off?” she gave for further instruction before turning to her three boys. “Knuckles, take your brothers to the front room and call Uncle Wade to come help watch you three.” “But I wanna help!” Sonic protested, already having been dancing around their feet staying out of the way but also trying to stay as close as he could. “I know, but this is a little more intense than I’d like you to have to deal with,” Maddie assured, running her hand over his head. “I’ll be good, I’ll listen.” “No, Sonic,” Maddie stressed. “I’m gonna have to do surgery to fix his ribs, and I don’t want any of you to see that. Okay?” Sonic’s eyes went wide, and Maddie raised her hands to steady him if needed. It was a little blunt, but she didn’t have time to keep trying to convince him. “It’ll be okay, boys. I’ll take care of it. So just be good for Wade, alright?” “I’ll watch over them, mother,” Knuckles assured, moving forward with Tails already clinging to him and putting a hand around Sonic. “Come. Let us contact our Uncle, then construct a plan to welcome Shadow home.”

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Iiiiiii have a lot of scattered incoherent thoughts about Shadow getting adopted that I cannot figure out how to string together in a straight story, so I'm just doodling and writing the lil bits that pop into my head. 8 |

Something about Shadow trying to find his inhibitor rings again, but he only gets the 2 for his legs and G.U.N. finds the other 2 first, which leads to Shadow trying to steal them back but inevitably getting worn down by them and his own chaos energy beating him up. So he gives in and goes to Green Hills to find Sonic for help because "I thought that...since you wouldn't kill me… even after all I did, all I said, I thought that maybe…. maybe… you could help me"

This all took long enough that the Wachowski fam had enough time to talk things over about everything.

This also might be the 'I may have beat Shadow up a lil too much haha whoops' headspace 'cause he ended up with this list of injuries by the time the fam got him:

2 displaced broken ribs on the right (stabilized by Maddie with pins to be removed later)

broken right arm

broken left leg

injured right lung (causes wheezing mostly)

large laceration on right torso and right thigh

I'm still not sure if I want Walters to be the one there chasing Shadow or if it should be the other military lady and Walters helps stop them and let Tom and Maddie take Shadow 8 |

anyway post is getting way long so * finger guns and leaves ya'll with this *

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 4

paige x azzi

warning: fighting, blood

word count: 9.7k

a/n: honestly only got this out because i barely slept a lick last night so here’s to delusional writing at 3am! this chapter has the long awaited fight. let me know what you think or leave a comment if you can, i love reading them honestly. thank you for always reading 🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

The door of Paige’s gym creaked open with the sharp jingle of the bell Cam annoyingly put up that Paige still hadn’t bothered to take down. Paige didn’t look up at the sound, her gloves continued to thud into the heavy bag in sharp, rhythmic bursts.

“Yo,” Cam said, her voice echoing through the mostly dark gym. “You live in here these days?”

Paige kept her same rhythm for a few more hits before she stopped, breathing heavily as she grabbed her towel that was thrown to the side. “What do you want?”

Rickea offered her usual input saying, “Wow. You’re so warm tonight.”

“It’s late,” Paige mumbled, rubbing her forearm across her forehead.

Rae wandered toward the wall of gloves and pads, curious about the gym she had never seen before. “This your little batcave?”

“Something like that,” Paige said, eyes flicking toward what she was messing with on the back wall before looking away.

Cam looked back at Paige. “We were at the facility late. Figured we’d come check on you before your fight.”

“You checked. I’m alive,” Paige said flatly, taking off her gloves with a quick tug.

Azzi trails in just them, seemingly having finished handling a phone call. She held the door long enough to keep it from slamming behind her and she didn’t say anything at first. She just walked in quietly, her eyes drifting to Paige as she did.

Paige’s eyes flicked to her for a second, lingering just slightly before she looked away.

Rickea wandered past Paige, picking up a mitt and making a show of putting it on like she was going to do something with it. “You actually training or just stress-punching?”

“Both,” Paige replied dryly.

“You need a target? Rae’s here.” Cam playfully offered.

“No.”

Azzi stayed quiet, but Paige glanced back toward her again, longer this time.

Azzi didn’t say anything, she tilted her head to the side slightly and gave her a look. Paige mirrored it without much expression somehow.

Cam interrupted the moment without realizing it when walked over and stood in front of Paige giving her a once-over. “You look lighter.”

“I lose anymore and I’ll disappear,” Paige mumbled.

The others started to wander around the space—Rickea trying on gloves and Rae asking Cam a million questions. Azzi leaned against the far wall, just watching Paige mess with her hand wraps again.

“You sleep at all?” Azzi asked, quietly, just enough for her to hear.

Paige’s hands didn’t pause, but she answered with a small shrug. “Some.”

“Eat?”

“Some.”

Azzi squinted her eyes at her. “Lie better.”

Paige’s mouth twitched at this, almost a smile, a tiny smirk maybe. Paige didn’t respond instantly, but when she finally glanced up, her eyes held a softness.

“I’m alright, forreal,” she said.

Once her wrap was suitable to her liking she slipped her gloves back on and started hitting the bag again. It wasn’t with the same force, but seemed more controlled and the gym echoed with each snap of her gloves to the bag.

The others continued to mill around, talking quietly between themselves, occasionally throwing out a comment toward Paige that she barely acknowledged.

After about 10 minutes Paige’s fists slowed again and she walked over to her water that was sitting on a bench, her gaze landing on Azzi first before anywhere else.

She stood slightly to the side of where Azzi was standing. “Ready for your game?”

Azzi nodded, shifting her weight against the wall. “Yeah. It’s Golden State, so…”

Paige unscrewed the bottle, taking a long drink, before glancing at her again with a faint smirk. “Easy win?”

Azzi laughed. “Should be. If we don’t fuck around.”

Paige’s eyes lingered on her before she looked down, screwing the cap back on her bottle.

“You weigh in tomorrow, right?” Azzi asked.

Paige nodded. “Yeah like 10AM.”

“You close?”

“1 or two pounds out,” Paige replied. “Water cut’ll handle it.”

Azzi smiled at her a little before saying, “You say that like it’s casual.”

Paige shrugged, wiping her hands down her thighs. “It is. Just part of it.”

Azzi didn’t press the topic, just gave her a look that said she wasn’t entirely buying it, but she'd let her have it for now. Paige looked back toward the bag, then back at Azzi. “Appreciate you checking, though.”

Azzi smiled again saying, “Of course.”

After their short conversation the gym settled into a quietness, Rae was scrolling on her phone near the cage, Rickea was recording a TikTok, and Cam was eyeing the small fridge Paige had in there like she was trying to will actually food into it.

“So what time’s weigh-in?” Cam called across the gym.

“Ten,” Paige answered without looking up, her response clipped.

“That’s lowkey nasty,” Rickea muttered. “You really just gotta let people stare at you while you stand on a scale in your underwear.”

Paige nodded saying, “Pretty much.”

“You into that?” Rae asked, teasing her a little.

“No.”

Cam changed the subject saying, “You ever think about trying to get them to let you fight somewhere fun? Like in Miami or something? I’d fly in like three days early for that.”

Paige didn’t look up from her phone. “Great.”

Cam narrowed her eyes at Paige’s answer. “Okay, so we don’t get real sentences tonight, noted.”

“No.”

Rickea’s mouth dropped open. “You didn’t even pretend to be nice.”

Azzi, still leaning against the wall with her arms folded, smiled behind the water bottle she had grabbed. Paige passed by her, dropping her phone on the bench, and Azzi waited a second before asking, “When are you heading to Vegas?”

Paige paused, then said, “Early tomorrow. It’s a short flight. Forty-five minutes maybe.”

Her tone was different—more open, barely noticeable but enough that Cam, who’s known her since they were kids, looked up like she’d caught something worth noting.

“Why only go the day before?” Azzi asked.

“If I go too early, I overthink. Just wanna keep my rhythm and stay in my gym as long as I can.”

“That’s smart,” Azzi said.

Cam blinked and mumbled to Rickea, “Why do we only get grunts but Azzi gets full sentences?”

Rickea crossed her arms. “I didn’t even get a hello today.”

Rae didn’t look up from her phone. “Y’all ever think maybe she just doesn’t like us?”

“Definitely feels personal,” Cam added, squinting toward Paige and Azzi.

“You already packed?” Azzi asked.

Paige shook her head. “Nah. I’ll toss some stuff together when I go in the house.”

“That’s bold,” Azzi responded, a little amused by Paige’s disorganization.

“I like pressure.”

“Clearly.”

Rickea watched the exchange. “Is she flirting? I feel like she’s flirting.”

Cam squinted toward them, her arms crossed as she watched. “I can’t tell.”

Rae let out a mock sigh, fake pouting. “She’s never flirted with me.”

Rickea turned towards her. “That’s ‘cause you probably actually like her. Don’t think she’s interested bookie.”

Rae looked offended. “Me and Azzi look alike.”

Both Rickea and Cam replied at the exact same time, “No you don’t.” But it was Paige, still across the gym, who also said it dryly, like it slipped out before she could catch it, that got a reaction out of everyone. “No, you don’t.”

Cam and Rickea laughed, Azzi smiled, and Rae mumbled, “Rude,” under her breath.

Paige didn’t even blink. “Just being honest.”

Rae narrowed her eyes at Paige. “You’re lucky you hit people for a living.”

“I’m sure I am,” Paige said plainly, finally looking over with the faintest trace of amusement on her face.

Rickea laughed and leaned into Rae. “Don’t worry, I still think you’re pretty Rae Rae.”

“That makes one of you,” Rae grumbled.

Cam shook her head and laughed before she clapped her hands together once. “Alright, we should leave the scary girl alone now.”

“Thank God,” Paige mumbled, putting her gloves back on.

Cam rolled her eyes as they turned to leave. “See you on fight day, Paigey.”

Paige ignored her completely. As the four of them made their way to the door, Azzi hung back just half a step, glancing over her shoulder. “Bye, Paige.”

Paige’s hands paused for a moment before she looked up. “Bye.”

Then she dropped her gaze again, flexing her fingers before throwing another punch into the bag like none of them had ever been there. But Azzi smiled to herself all the way out the door.

…

On the day of the fight the plane ride to Nevada was smooth. Between some of the LA Sparks players and Paige’s family, Paige’s jet felt full. Small conversations came and went in pockets, laughter from Rae here and there, quiet murmurs between Azzi and Cam, Rickea sharing a row with Paige’s younger brother Drew, the two of them playfully arguing about who knows what.

By the time they arrived in Las Vegas, there wasn’t any time for wandering around or settling in besides dropping their bags off at the hotel. The venue the slated fights were scheduled in was already pulsing with life, every corridor buzzing with preparation. When they got there security ushered them through the back entrance, down a narrow hallway that led to the fighter’s wing.

When they got to Paige’s room she was in the far corner of the room, her legs wide, forearms resting on her knees as she focused on the wrap in her lap. Her headphones were in her ears. She didn’t look up and acknowledge anyone when they entered.

Not her dad, who had his arms crossed near the door. Not her mom, who excitedly moved toward her before hesitating when her daughter didn’t even glance up. Not her younger siblings who were wide-eyed but staying close to one another.

Paige was threading wrap around her left hand with practiced efficiency and the wrap unrolled in clean pulls. Her knuckles already tight underneath. Her mouth moved slightly, like maybe she was counting, maybe repeating something to herself.

There wasn’t an ounce of anything playful in her energy tonight. No dry humor. No clipped sarcasm.

The door swung open with a sharp creak before a loud, animated voice cut through the quietness of the room. “Alright, who missed me?”

Paige’s trainer, Marcus, stepped in like he owned the place, slapping a hand against the doorframe as he walked in. His outgoing energy filled the space immediately, his sneakers squeaking slightly as he made his way in with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and mitts hanging from his hands.

Paige gave him the briefest glance before looking right back down, finishing the final wrap on her right hand.

“She locked in?” Marcus grinned to himself. “Good. It’s what I like to see.”

The others gave him small nods, acknowledging his presence, but no one tried to break the energy Paige had centered herself in. Her family had gathered near the corner of the room, speaking in hushed tones. Cam, Rae, and Rickea stood closer to the wall, watching the card before Paige’s play out on the TV screen bolted in the corner. Azzi lingered by the wall as well, her arms folded. Every so often her eyes would move between Paige and the broadcast.

When Paige finally tied off the wrap and flexed her hand, she stood up and grabbed her gloves. Her neck rolled to the side, left, then right, until a soft pop echoed in the room. She put on her gloves then crossed the floor until she was near Marcus who was already slipping the mitts on.

“You look calm,” he said, nodding in approval.

“I am.”

“You’ve seen the tape. You know what she’s coming in with.”

“She’s coming in hot,” Paige said, nodding. “Gonna try to take my head off in the first two minutes.”

“And you?”

“Imma let her.”

Marcus raised his eyebrow.

“Wear herself out a little. If she swings like I think she will, she’ll gas out before the third.”

He nodded at her thought process. “Smart. But if it gets ugly—if I don’t like what I’m seeing—I’m pulling you.”

Paige shook her head. “You pull me and you’ll need a new job before I step outta the cage.”

He paused his movements.

“I’m serious,” Paige said. “Don’t throw the towel. I know what I can handle and I’ll pull myself if I need to.”

Marcus, always needing to be the practical one on fight days, stared at her. His eyes tracking her demeanor for a few seconds he let out a slight exhale and mumbled, “Alright.” He brought his hands up. “Let’s move.”

Paige nodded her focus shifting as her first punch snapped against the mitt.

…

The muffled yelling of the crowd seeped through the walls as the fight before Paige’s ended. People in the room stirred a little. Her family stood, stretching their limbs that had grown stiff from sitting. Cam, Rae, and Rickea lingered exchanging glances before following the usher out toward their reserved seating.

Marcus gave Paige’s shoulder a brief squeeze before he grabbed a towel and followed them out knowing she liked to have a few minutes alone before the fight, leaving only her and Azzi by the door.

Azzi hesitated for a second longer, not in a rush like the others. Paige hadn’t stopped moving, throwing punches into the air, moving around the room, a routine that was rooted deep in her brain. As the door creaked slightly as Azzi moved to leave Paige glanced up briefly and their eyes met.

Azzi didn’t say anything, just offered a small smile before she turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind her.

Paige stood there for a second longer, her eyes lingering on the space Azzi had just left. Then she started moving again.

The lights outside the tunnel were blinding and hot like always. Paige barely registered them, her body was ahead of her mind as she walked out and stepped into the cage, the cheers from the crowd melting into static.

Across from her, her opponent was pacing in the challenging corner, bouncing lightly on her toes with her chin tucked, fingers flexing.

Paige moved to sit in her corner and closed her eyes for a breath. Then another. Slower. Deeper. Easing her heart rate in the midst of the chaos like she’d done a thousand times before. The world outside the cage faded, replaced by the thrum of blood in her ears, the scrape of her feet on floor, the feel of her pulse settling into something steady.

Behind her, Marcus leaned in quietly. “Breathe. Don’t give her more credit than she deserves. You know how to win this.”

Paige gave him a tight nod.

The fabric of her shirt pulled across her shoulders as she took it off, handing it to Marcus. She rolled her neck, shook her arms loose, then stepped forward toward the center.

The referee stood between them, rattling off the final rules and instructions. His voice was quick and practiced, but Paige barely heard him. She nodded when she knew she was supposed to but other than that she just stared in front of her blankly.

Everything was just noise now.

Round 1

The moment the bell rang, the girl from Houston exploded forward like she had something to prove to everybody in attendance. Paige of course expected it—had counted on it, really.

She didn’t move around much at first. She let her come.

The first few seconds were just noise and flash. A wild overhand right that whistled past Paige’s head, followed by a front kick aimed at her body. Paige leaned just enough to the left, the kick brushing past her ribs without real contact.

She’s fast, Paige thought. Not too sharp right now though.

Her opponent kept pressing, jabs flying in quick succession, combos that were more about the speed than actual substance. Paige kept her guard high and her footwork was calm, letting each strike graze her forearms or miss altogether. Her body easily flowed just outside each blow’s range.

She felt the girl’s rhythm. It was impatient, rushed even. She was throwing hard too early. Paige kept her own hands mostly holstered, throwing a jab here and there, not to actually connect, but to measure distance. To poke at the pace and figure out her angles.

Her opponent threw a spinning backfist next. It was reckless and flashy. Got the crowd a little excited but Paige dipped under it easily.

Arrogant, Paige thought, her eyes tracking the way her opponent’s feet reset sloppily after the spin. She’s trying to finish this too early. Too much ego.

Midway through the round, the crowd started to shift slightly. The early momentum hadn’t done any damage. Paige could feel the shift in energy. Confusion at her lack of output from newcomers in the crowd.

The Houston fighter threw a hook that Paige blocked with her elbow, rolling her shoulder forward as she absorbed the impact. A second later came a right hand straight down the middle. It was telegraphed and Paige slid back, just out of reach.

Paige’s thoughts started connecting. She’s overreaching. Her left side drops when she resets. She leads with the same combo every time. Gets predictable after the second one.

The bell rang, and Paige backed into her corner.

Round 2

The bell sounded again, and this time, the energy changed before a single strike was thrown.

The girl from Houston didn’t charge like before. Her footwork slowed, became more methodical, her hands were tighter, eyes a little sharper. Paige noticed the change immediately.

Someone told her to calm down, Paige thought, adjusting her stance slightly.

The first jab that came Paige’s way wasn’t rushed this time, but it snapped quickly and for the first time in the fight, made direct contact with Paige’s cheekbone. Just enough to sting.

Paige’s head turned slightly with the hit, absorbing it without panicking. She stepped back once, regrouping and her eyes were brighter now.

Her opponent moved forward, throwing another combination. Paige blocked high, checked the kick, then slipped inside the next right hand to answer with a heavy body shot that landed just under the ribs.

That one got a reaction.

From the crowd. From her opponent. From Azzi, who leaned forward in her seat.

“Oof,” Cam muttered next to her. “I know that shit hurt.”

Paige was already adjusting to her opponents new tactics. She felt the girl trying to tie up, wrap her arms around her waist, pull her into the clinch. Paige let her, just for a second, then she broke it.

After she broke it Paige took a quick step back and threw a sharp elbow that clipped her opponent’s lip before disengaging. Blood began to pool there, just barely visible.

Her opponent was tough, though. After a brief reset, she shot low, driving into Paige’s legs and pushing her against the cage. The crowd yelled at the quick shift in momentum, some jumping to their feet as they battled for control inside the octagon.

Paige’s back hit the chain-link, but she didn’t panic. She got an underhook, her forearm pressed hard against the girl’s collarbone. She twisted her hips and reversed the pressure, pinning her instead. Her knee drove into the thigh, once, then another time. Then she threw a quick right hook to the temple before she broke free.

The crowd surged again.

Rickea looked truly entertained by the fight.

“She’s bleeding,” Rae said, pointing toward the girl.

Paige wasn’t unscathed either. A short elbow thrown while in the clinch had opened a nick beneath her left eye. She wiped it with the back of her glove and moved forward again.

Another exchange came and it was more calculated from both ends now. Hooks, low kicks, faint level changes. Both women landed clean a few times. Paige caught a stiff jab. Her opponent took a clean left cross that made her stumble back.

They locked up again, their arms tangling, legs moving for leverage. The Houston fighter tried a trip. Paige stuffed it, twisting and almost getting her own takedown before time ran out.

The bell sounded and a scattered cheer rang from Paige’s section, mixed with nervous murmurs and impressed whistles from everyone else in the crowd. Everyone was on their feet now.

In the break, Paige’s cut man crouched in front of her, pressing a cold swab under her eye.

“You good?” he asked. She nodded once.

Across the cage, her opponent’s team was tending to her lip, now clearly split and swelling. The blood was thicker now, dripping as she spat into a towel.

Round 3

By the time the third round was about to begin, the energy in the arena was more charged. Everyone was excited about the show the two women in the cage were putting on. Both of them finally having an opponent to go rounds with.

Cam was leaned forward on the guardrail, her arms pressed against the rail. Rae stood silently, her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes darted between the cage and the screen above. Rickea mumbled something that no one heard. Azzi stood to the side of them all, her gaze fixed on the cage the entire time. The bell hadn’t even rung for the third round yet but she couldn’t look away.

Inside the cage, Paige stood in her corner, her hands on her hips. Her chest was rising and falling slowly. Her face was glistening with sweat and maybe a little blood and the area under her left eye had begun to swell slightly, the skin around it softening and tinting purple.

Across from her, the younger fighter bounced on her toes. The blood from her lip was stianing the top of her mouth guard, and one eye had started to redden slightly.

The bell sounded.

Paige stepped forward with her chin tucked, breathing steady.

Her opponent came forward a little faster than before. Not wild anymore, but definitely not timid in her movements. She looked coached and calibrated. There was a sting in her throws now. They were more selective and therefore more successful. The first jab touched Paige’s jaw and a follow-up kick slapped against her thigh. Paige checked the second one but didn’t respond, just absorbed the pace.

She was reading again trying to feel out the rhythm that seemed to constantly change. Then she responded with a tight right hand that found the other girl’s cheekbone, and the sound of the glove landing landed over the excitement of the crowd.

The girl answered with a knee that caught Paige’s side.

It stung but Paige didn’t shift much.

They clinched near the cage and for a few seconds, it became less about hits and more about finding control. Paige’s arms locked around the back, trying to angle her opponent’s hips. The girl countered, dragging Paige slightly sideways. Their feet scraped, and one of Paige’s gloves pushed up into the girl’s jaw, forcing space before she threw a quick elbow.

The girl stumbled back and Paige followed, another elbow aimed higher but this time the girl ducked and answered with a right hook that landed across Paige’s face.

Paige’s head turned slightly, and for the first time in the fight, a flash of blood sprayed into the air from her nose and cheek.

Cam winced.

Rae let out a breath. “She’s fine right?”

“She’s fine,” Paige’s dad confirmed calmly, his arms crossed as he watched his daughter. His eyes never left the cage. “Let her work. She’s got it.”

Inside the cage, blood was dripping into Paige’s mouth now. Not too much, just enough for her to taste the metallic taste. Enough to push her forward a little.

The next exchange was ugly and messy. Strikes and elbows thrown, knees and shoves. The crowd had stopped analyzing and just started yelling. Some of them leaned over the front barriers, screaming names, muffled by the yelling around them. Blood was on both fighters’ bodies. It slid across their gloves, making clinches harder to hold and strikes harder to gauge.

Both of them were tired now and their breathing was heavier than it was in the rounds prior.

Paige felt the welt rising along her cheekbone and her body ached. She could feel the bruises forming, the scrape on her ribs from the cage, the faint pulse of pain in her shoulder. But she kept pressing.

A right elbow split the air and landed causing the girl to reel back. Then came a left throw from her opponent. Paige ducked and responded with a throw to the body; then again to the ribs.

Paige’s opponent grabbed her, dragged her back into the fence. Grappling now a little clumsily.

Ten seconds left.

Azzi leaned forward slightly, just as Paige got enough room to throw a final punch over the top that landed. The bell rang, singling the end of the round.

They didn’t move for a second before they slowly separated. Both of them were sweating and panting and blood was mixed into the chaos and was dotting the floors of the cage.

Paige turned and walked to her corner. Her cut man met her halfway, towel already in hand. “Hold still,” he muttered, wiping around her cheek and nose. There was blood across her neck and chest. Some hers. Some not.

“Yours isn’t the worst,” he said, brushing beneath her eye. “She’s leaking.”

Her trainer leaned in close. “Talk to me. You okay out there?”

Paige didn’t even sit down. “I’m good,” she said. When she said it her voice was rough, clipped.

He studied her, his eyes scanning her face. Blood was still sliding down her cheek and her breathing was heavy, but her stare was in the distance.

“You sure? We can slow this down if you need to…pull back until–-”

Paige cut him off. “I said I’m good Marcus.”

He gave a short nod, slipping the towel from her shoulder and dabbing near the swelling under her eye. “Alright. Keep your lead hand up. You’re letting her crowd you when you drop it.”

“She’s sloppy,” Paige said, absentmindedly. “She’s never fought this long, getting desperate.”

“Exactly,” he responded, stepping back to give her space. “She’s frazzled. Never experienced anything like this before you got that on your side.”

Paige’s jaw tightened.

“All you gotta do is finish it.”

She nodded once and he tapped her on the back.

Round Four

The bell rang, and Paige stepped forward again, the wear of the previous rounds visible in her shoulders, the rhythm of her breathing. Her opponent mirrored the fatigue, but there was a new wildness in her eyes, a last-ditch hunger to end it this round.

They circled.

The first few exchanges were calculated: a leg kick from Paige that was checked cleanly; a body shot from her opponent that landed with a thud; a jab from Paige that snapped the girl’s head back. They were both moving trying to find the right moment.

But then a left hook landed harshly against the side of Paige’s head, just above the temple. Her body staggered from the impact, legs briefly unsure beneath her as her brain fought to analyze what was happening. The lights blurred for a second and her ears rang. She blinked, trying to get everything back into focus.

From the seating section, Cam shot up halfway from her chair. “Shit,” she muttered.

Paige’s father shook his head. “She’s fine,” he said. “She’s still in it.”

Paige shook the daze off, just enough to reset her stance. Her opponent charged in, eager to capitalize on Paige’s haziness, but Paige ducked a looping right and grappled, locking her arms under the girl’s and forcing her against the cage. The two fought for leverage with their sharp knees. Blood poured from a fresh cut just above Paige’s eyebrow, leaking down the side of her face and blurring the corner of her vision.

They broke apart and reset. Then in another flurry a jab-cross from Paige, and a clinch, her opponent trying to muscle her into a takedown that Paige blocked with experience.

Off a failed swing from her opponent, Paige slipped under and shot for the hips, driving through and dragging her down. In a blur of motion, she transitioned from half-guard to mount, then sliding behind as her opponent rolled in slight panic.

Paige had her hooks in and arms around her neck. The crowd erupted as Paige cinched a choke tightly.

A few seconds passed and Paige prayed to God that this girl wasn’t stupid enough to risk brain damage for a fight. To her relief Paige felt frantic tapping after a few more seconds.

The ref dove in, pulling her off as Paige released her immediately and sat back with blood pooling from her eyebrow. Her opponent was on her knees coughing against the mat in front of her, blood dripping down her face as she shook her head.

Paige sat there for a moment, still on the mat, her knees bent, forearms resting on them as her chest rose and fell unevenly. Her ears were still ringing with a sharp, high-pitched sound that was driving her crazy on top of the crowd’s yelling. She blinked a few times, trying to force the haze from her head but the lights above her were blurred. Her vision sharpened, dulled, and sharpened again.

The ref moved beside her, gripping her wrist and tugging her upward, announcing the win. She barely registered it as her head spinned.

Her cut man appeared almost immediately, reaching out with a towel to stop the flow across her face, but Paige brushed him off with a slight shove, not roughly just her being resistant. Silently telling him not now.

Her head was down as she walked out of the cage and instantly moved to the back toward her assigned room. The sound of the arena faded behind her with each step and it was replaced by the echo of her footsteps and the relentless ringing in her ears.

All she could do when she got to the back was grab a towel, pressing it to the side of her face as she slid down against the nearest wall. Her legs giving out without much of a fight. Blood was smeared across her cheek and neck as she wiped at it with shaking hands, but it kept coming.

The ringing in her ears felt sharper now, pulsing in rhythm with the headache that pounded behind her eyes under the harsh lights of the room. She closed them tightly just to breathe. Just to exist in the darkness and silence for a second.

The door opened followed by footsteps and excited voices.

Cam was in first, trying to bring her usual energy as she walked in with a grin. “Let’s fucking go! Paige, that was—”

“Not right now, Cam,” Paige mumbled, her voice strained enough to stop Cam mid-sentence. She raised her hands in surrender, backing off immediately. But her family followed, trailing in excitedly behind her. Their voices were full of pride, relief and adrenaline. Way too loud.

Paige winced and her face contorted in pain as her head throbbed. The room spun slightly as the noise closed in on her.

“I need everybody to get the fuck out,” she said suddenly.

Her family was completely stunned. Some of them blinked like she personally insulted them with the statement. Her mom opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself when she saw Paige’s face.

“Somebody has to stay with you, P,” a voice said softly. Maybe Cam, Paige couldn’t tell.

She didn’t even bother to look over. Her head stayed resting against the wall with her eyes shut tight. “Whoever’s gonna sit here and shut the fuck up can stay,” she mumbled.

There was a moment of hesitation before Rickea pressed her hand lightly to Azzi’s back, pushing her forward.

“You heard her,” Rickea said softly, glancing at the others. “Let’s go.”

Azzi hesitated for just a second before walking fully into the room while the others shuffled out.

Azzi eased the door shut behind them and stood still for a moment. Paige hadn’t moved from her spot on the floor. Her legs were stretched out in front of her and the towel in her lap was stained with smears of red. Even without looking over, she seemed to know who was there.

“You still here?” Paige questioned.

Azzi whispered softly, “Yeah.”

“Figured it was you. Everyone else talks too damn much and doesn’t listen.”

Azzi didn’t answer, she just stepped further inside Paige adjusted her position still not opening her eyes. “Can you turn off the lights for me?”

Azzi walked over and flicked off the switch and the room sank into darkness. The only light coming from the hallway slipping in under the door. Paige exhaled quietly at the instant relief. Azzi let her eyes adjust to the slight darkness before making her way toward the corner where she spotted the ice bin. She scooped some of it into a bag and wrapped it tightly with a towel.

Just as she was finishing up a knock sounded. It was gentle, but loud enough to make Paige flinch slightly.

Azzi crossed to the door and cracked it open.

Paige’s cut man was standing there holding a small vial and a long large cotton swab in his hands. He looked past Azzi at Paige on the floor then handed her both items. “She won’t let me near her again tonight,” He said. “She knows what to do. But just in case, clean the blood off first. Pour this on the swab—not too much—then roll it gently over the cut.”

Azzi gave him a quick nod as she took the items and quietly shut the door again.

When she turned back around, Paige was still in the same exact spot and the towel she was using was useless now, covered in red more than white at this point.

Azzi moved quietly as she sat down beside her. “Can I help you?”

Paige didn’t answer. She just let her head roll to the side, eyes cracking open to look at her. Even in the low light, Azzi could see the exhaustion etched into every part of her face. Her jaw was tight, her cheek was bruised and the cut over her eyebrow still bleeding in a stubborn line down the side of her face.

Paige gave the smallest shrug. “Haven’t gotten an ass whooping like this in a while,” she mumbled.

Azzi let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she reached for a fresh towel. “Yeah, well…you still won.”

“Barely,” Paige mumbled, letting her eyes fall closed again.

Azzi shifted, her knees brushing against Paige’s thigh as she gently tilted Paige’s chin toward the light. Paige’s jaw clenched and she drew in a sharp breath but she didn’t stop her.

Azzi began to wipe her face slowly despite the amount of blood. She grimaced here and there as she worked. The smears across Paige’s temple, the streak down her neck, dried and fresh blood all blending together.

Paige caught the expression and cracked a barely there smile. “Squeamish?”

Azzi smiled, her eyes flicking up for just a second. “Maybe a little.”

Paige lifted her hand to take the towel, but Azzi caught her wrist and pushed it back down. “I got it.” She said it softly, but firmly enough that Paige didn’t argue. She just dropped her hand back to her lap, and she let her head rest against the wall again. Azzi wiped away the last of the blood. When the towel did all it could, Azzi reached for the cotton swab and the vial. She didn’t say anything about it, just soaked the tip and leaned in.

The moment the antiseptic touched the gash over Paige’s eyebrow, her body got rigid. Her jaw clenched and her eyes squeezed shut, a sharp breath hissing through her teeth.

Azzi whispered, “Sorry,” but didn’t stop rolling it over the cut.

Paige didn’t respond, just exhaled hard again as Azzi moved to the cut beneath her eye, rolling the soaked cotton along the split. Paige winced again, but didn’t move.

Once she was done Azzi paused and let her hand linger near Paige’s cheek just a moment longer than necessary. She grabbed the towel-wrapped ice from earlier and pressed it gently to the side of her head. Paige’s hand came up to take it from her and hold it in place.

“You have a concussion.”

Paige nodded once. “Yeah, I know.”

“You’re taking this better than I thought you would.”

Paige let out a quiet scoff. “I’m not,” she mumbled. “I just don’t have the energy to be pissed out loud right now.”

Azzi responded with a small, almost sympathetic laugh, leaning back against the wall beside her. “Fair enough.” She sat with her knees pulled up, glancing over at Paige every so often. After a minute, she asked, “Was it worth it?”

“Ask me again when the ringing stops.”

Azzi add’s, “At least you didn’t tap, that's a little embarrassing.”

Paige gave a tired breath that might’ve been a laugh. “Yeah, well. Pride’s a hell of a drug.”

They sat there quietly for a few moments then Azzi nudged Paige’s leg gently with her foot. “You know,” she said casually, “I don’t think I’ve ever been attracted to somebody covered in someone else’s blood until today.”

Paige’s lips twitched, and before she could stop it, a small smile cracked through. Just for a second.

Azzi’s eyes lit up. “I did it.”

Paige blinked. “Did what?”

Azzi grinned. “I got a smile.”

Paige shook her head, still smiling faintly. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late,” Azzi said, leaning back like she’d just won something important. “I’m remembering this moment.”

Paige shook her head, the smile still hanging on her face even as she sighed and mumbled, “I need to shower.”

“Okay, come on.” Azzi stood and reached out her hand.

Paige grabbed it, groaning softly as Azzi helped her to her feet. Her body protested with every movement, and a sharp twinge in her side made her wince. “Jesus Christ,” she mumbled under her breath as she walked toward the bathroom.

As the door closed and the sound of the shower running steadily Azzi sat down in one of the chairs pulling out her phone to send a quick text to Cam. A few minutes later everyone cautiously trickled back into the room silently.

Cam looked toward the bathroom, then turned to Azzi who was still seated in the chair by the wall, towel and gauze discarded beside her.

“How’s she doing?” Cam asked gently.

Azzi glanced toward the closed door, then back at them. “Pretty sure she’s got a concussion,” she said, keeping her voice low, “but other than that…she seems pretty ok.”

Rickea exhaled, shaking her head. “That shit was crazy.”

Paige’s dad stood near the back, replaying the fight in his head. “She’ll be alright. Always is.”

“Still,” Cam said, “that was a lot. You could see it in her face, especially in the third.”

They all nodded in agreement, the low conversation filling the room just as the bathroom door opened.

Steam came out first, followed by the slow steps of Paige herself. Her wet hair was down and her skin was still flush from the heat of the shower. She had on a pair of dark sweats that hung a little low on her hips and a plain sports bra that revealed the fresh bruises starting to bloom along her side and shoulder. She was moving like every joint ached, like gravity had doubled just for her tonight.

The room quieted again.

“You alright?” Cam asked gently.

Paige’s eyes moved to her, and she gave a tired thumbs up before walking toward the chair near the wall that had her bag in it.

Paige slipped her hoodie on over her sports bra, tugging the hood low enough to shield her eyes from the fluorescent lights she knew was in the hall. Even the bit of brightness flowing in from the cracked door made her blink a few times, her temples throbbing in sync with the buzz of every overhead fixture. The sound of voices around her felt amplified, like her skull couldn’t contain the noise.

She brought a hand up to her temple, rubbing it a few times.

“You mind driving the car I got?” Paige said to Azzi. “I can’t deal with all this right now.”

Azzi nodded. “Of course.”

Just behind them, Rickea made a dramatic gagging sound, sticking her tongue out and jabbing her index finger toward it like she was about to puke. “God, you’re actually disgusting.”

Paige turned her head just enough to throw Rickea a look, but even that shift made her grimace slightly. She mumbled, “You’re lucky I can’t feel my legs right now.”

Rickea snorted and lifted both hands like she was surrendering. Whispering, “Love you Paigey.”

Azzi just chuckled, looping the keys around her finger.

The walk to the car wasn’t long, but every step was a reminder of how fucked up Paige’s body felt. Every sharp laugh or car engine in the distance made her jaw clench. She kept her head down, her hoodie a weak but welcome shield against the chaos of the world.

Azzi stayed next to her, guiding her through the parking lot. When they reached the car, Azzi unlocked it and opened the passenger side for her. Paige slid in with a soft grunt as Azzi put her bag in the backseat before she rounded to the driver’s side and started the engine. Paige immediately leaned her head back and shut her eyes. For the first time all night, she let out a breath that sounded almost like relief.

Azzi kept her eyes on the road, one hand loosely gripping the steering wheel while the other rested on her thigh. The sound of the tires on pavement and the occasional sound of passing cars were the only sounds filling the vehicle. Paige was slumped back in the passenger seat and the faint blue light from the dashboard cast shadows across her bruised face.

That silence lasted almost the entire drive until the car’s Bluetooth kicked in and Paige’s phone started ringing abruptly. Paige let out a long loud groan.

“Jesus Christ,” she mumbled, squinting one eye open. The name on the screen read CUT MAN. She sighed and answered it. “I should fire you.”

Her cut man laughed on the other end of the line. “I got a physician heading to your hotel room before you call it a night.”

Paige blinked slowly. “Why,” she asked flatly, not even trying to hide her exhaustion.

“Shut up and just let me do what you pay me for.”

She didn’t bother responding. She just let her hand drop to her lap and ended the call.

From the driver’s seat, Azzi glanced over. “Everything—”

“Sshh no talking,” Paige cut her off gently, her eyes already drifting shut again as her head leaned back against the window.

Azzi nodded, lips twitching into a quiet smile at Paige’s bossiness as she let the silence settle again.

Once Azzi pulled into the hotel parking lot, she slipped the car into park and glanced over.

Paige didn’t move.

Azzi let a few seconds pass before gently saying her name. “Paige?”

Paige still didn’t move. Just the slow rise and fall of her chest as her cheek leaned against the cool window.

Azzi reached over and nudged her arm lightly. “Hey.”

Paige shifted, and a tired mumble escaped her lips. “Wassup…”

Azzi smirked. “We’re here, princess.”

Paige didn’t move, from her position in the seat. “Your parents clearly failed…didn’t teach you not to insult someone who could beat your ass,” she whispered.

“I’m pretty sure I could take you right now, honestly.”

That got a huff of amusement from Paige, her lips twitching upward as she slowly peeled her eyes open. They were glassy, heavy-lidded, but there was a small glint of life in them again.

She turned her head, and Azzi was already looking at her, a soft smile on her face.

For a moment, they just sat there, the engine clicking softly as it cooled, the hotel looming behind them, and the world feeling a little quieter inside the car.

Then Azzi tilted her head, grinning wider. “I know I’m pretty, but we should probably get you upstairs.”

Paige just shook her head slowly, the ghost of a smile still on her face as she reached for the door handle.

The walk up to Paige’s room was slow—Paige leaning a bit into the wall every few steps and almost falling asleep again in the elevator, but they made it without much fuss. When they reached her hotel room, she fished the keycard from her pocket. “You coming in?”

Azzi didn’t answer, she just followed her silently.

The room was modest, just big enough. A king bed sat in the center of the room, with a set of tall windows next to it overlooking the city lights of a city that never sleeped. Paige didn’t bother with pleasantries; she tugged her hoodie off the second the door shut and tossed it onto a chair before stumbling toward the bed. The mattress gave under her weight as she dropped onto it and she exhaled like she’d been holding her breath all night.

Azzi, meanwhile, wandered over to the other side of the room and reached for the bathroom light, flipping it on just enough to cast a glow into the room without overwhelming Paige. She walked to the large windows and stared out at the city below.

She stayed by the window for a moment, the city lights painting her silhouette in soft golds and blues. Then, her gaze drifted to the bed where Paige was stretched out like she’d melted into the mattress. “You look real cozy over there,” Azzi said quietly, walking back toward the center of the room. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you brought me here just to watch you sleep.”

Paige didn’t open her eyes, but the corners of her mouth tilted up slightly. “I bring you around to boost morale.”

Azzi smiled, sinking onto the foot of the bed. “You sure you don’t just like having me close?”

“I’m concussed,” Paige said but it came out muffled against the pillow. “Flirt with me when my brain isn’t soup ight?”

Azzi laughed at this and turned a little, watching Paige’s breathing slow. The silence stretched comfortably between them but then Paige’s breaths started to even out a little too much, her body beginning to relax into sleep.

“Hey,” Azzi said gently, scooting a little closer. “Don’t pass out yet.”

A groggy grunt came in response.

“You got a physician coming to check on you, remember?”

Paige groaned into the pillow like the words personally offended her. “I hate my life.”

Azzi laughed under her breath. “Yeah, well, hate it with your eyes open for ten more minutes.”

Paige waved her off before her hand flopped back to the bed. “You’re the worst.”

Azzi grinned. “I thought I boosted morale?”

“I take it back,” Paige said dryly, her face still buried in the pillow.

The room fell quiet again, the sound of the AC humming in the background filling the space perfectly. Azzi took the moment to pull out her phone, scrolling through notifications before opening the group chat with Cam, Rickea, and Rae.

Azzi [11:49 PM]: we’re back at the hotel. they have a physician coming to check on her.

Cam hearted the message. And a second later, Rickea responded.

Rickea [11:51 PM]: you in the telly? 😏

Azzi held back a laugh and quickly typed out:

Azzi [11:51 PM]: GOODNIGHT.

She was barely able to hit send when there was a knock at the door.

Paige once again groaned and pressed herself deeper into the mattress like she could disappear into it and make everybody go away.

Azzi stood up and was already moving toward the door when she said, “Physician’s here, princess. She opened the door and greeted the woman quietly.

The physician stepped inside, hesitating slightly as her eyes adjusted to the dim room. “It’s a little dark in here.”

Azzi gestured toward the lump of Paige on the bed. “If I turned on the lights, she probably would've tried to kill me.”

From across the room, muffled by the pillow, Paige said, “Still will.”

“Unfortunately, I need some light to actually see her.”

With a resigned sigh, Azzi walked over and turned on the two bedside lamps. A warm glow lit up the room just enough to make Paige wince.

“Paige, I’m gonna need you to sit up for me.”

Paige exhaled slowly, pushing herself upright with one hand while the other braced her sore side. She moved like her body weighed twice as much, before she finally settled on the edge of the bed.

The physician set her bag down on the nearby dresser, pulling on a pair of gloves before crouching in front of Paige.

“Alright let’s take a quick look at these cuts first,” she said, inspecting the one along Paige’s eyebrow and just beneath her eye. She leaned in, carefully tilting Paige’s chin with two fingers. “Clean. No stitches needed. Just keep them clean and apply this.” She reached back and grabbed something from her bag before holding up a small tube of ointment, setting it on the nightstand. “Twice a day.”

Paige gave a slow nod, her eyes half-closed. “Cool.”

Then the physician moved to her ribs where she gently pressed at one of the darker bruises on Paige’s side, and Paige’s whole body tensed as she tried to breathe through it.

“Bruising’s not bad, not too deep” the physician murmured, more to herself than anyone.

Paige gave a bitter laugh under her breath. “Not bad my ass.”

Azzi, who was sitting near the window, cracked a faint smile but stayed quiet.

“Alright,” the physician said, stepping back slightly and reaching into her bag again. “Time to check on the concussion.”

When she pulled out the small flashlight, Paige’s eyes barely cracked open before she grimaced. “Yeah…that’s not happening.”

“I need to check pupil dilation sweetheart,” the physician said calmly.

Paige just shook her head, shifting slightly as she leaned her elbows onto her knees. “You can guess. Just go with your gut. I trust you.”

The physician laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I’d be out of a job if I did that.”

Paige let out a slow breath. “I can offer you a job. Problem solved.”

That earned a genuine laugh from both the physician and Azzi. The moment settled lightly, but Paige eventually resigned and opened her eyes again muttering, “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

The physician raised the penlight and gently swiped it past Paige’s eyes. Paige immediately flinched, her face tightening as she shut her eyes again.

“Sorry,” the physician said softly, giving her a moment. She waited patiently until Paige blinked her eyes open again, and this time she managed to keep them open long enough for the exam.

“Did you lose consciousness at any point?” she asked, clicking the light off and slipping it into her coat pocket.

“No.”

The physician nodded, peeling off her gloves. “It’s a Grade I concussion. You’ll have some light and noise sensitivity for a few days, but it shouldn't last longer than a week. If it does, schedule a follow-up with your physician.”

“Mhmm. Thanks,” Paige mumbled, already shifting back toward the pillows as she lowered herself onto the bed again.

The physician turned toward Azzi as she packed up her bag. “Acetaminophen only for the first 30 hours or so. After that, if it’s not doing enough, you can switch to naproxen.”

Azzi nodded, trying to lock the instructions into memory.

But the physician kept going, her tone professional, “And I wouldn’t recommend any sexual intercourse for at least—”

“I’m not—you know, I mean…we’re not—” Azzi quickly stammered, cutting her off mid-sentence, eyes going wide as she stumbled over her words.

From the bed, Paige let out a low laugh, her voice muffled by the pillow. “Real smooth.”

Azzi shot her a glare, but even the physician cracked a small smile as she zipped her bag closed.

The physician gave a polite smile as she hoisted her bag over her shoulder. “Rest, hydrate, and no blue light for a while unless it’s absolutely necessary. If anything feels off, call your trainer or head straight to urgent care, okay?”

Paige gave a lazy thumbs-up without lifting her head. “Noted.”

Azzi followed the physician to the door, holding it open for her. “Thanks again,” she said, a bit sheepishly.

The woman nodded at Azzi before glancing back at Paige one more time. “Take care of yourself, champ.”

“Tryin’,” Paige mumbled.

Once the door clicked shut behind her, Azzi turned back toward the room, sighing as she leaned against the wall. “I panicked,” she said.

Paige cracked one eye open. “Couldn’t tell.”

Azzi walked over and lightly tapped her on the leg. “I was trying to protect our virtue.”

“My virtue was gone the second I stepped in the ring tonight,” Paige mumbled, shifting slightly on the bed. “You hear the part where I’m not allowed to look at screens because I got hit so hard?”

“Yeah,” Azzi said, pulling out her phone. “So I guess that means no checking Twitter to see if they’re already fantasizing about you.”

Paige groaned at the thought and turned her face into the pillow. “Jesus Christ.”

Azzi smiled, “On the bright side, I’ve now officially been mistaken for your girlfriend and given the role of your nurse. We’re really hitting milestones tonight.”

Paige reached blindly to grab a pillow and toss it in Azzi’s direction—but it barely made it halfway before falling on the floor. “I have no strength.”

“I noticed,” Azzi said, already picking it up and placing it back by Paige’s head.

Azzi grabbed a water bottle from the nearby counter and handed it to Paige. “Here. Drink. And no sarcasm until you’re at least 60 percent.”

Paige took the bottle, her fingers brushing Azzi’s. “You sticking around?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You want me to?”

Paige didn’t answer right away—just unscrewed the cap and took a long sip. When she set the bottle down on the nightstand, she said, “Wouldn’t hate it.”

Azzi shook her head at the nonanswer. “Do you have clothes?”

Paige vaguely motioned toward the corner of the room without fully lifting her arm. Azzi followed her gesture to a half-zipped suitcase.

She walked over, rummaging through the bag until she pulled out a large t-shirt and a pair of soft cotton shorts. She disappeared into the bathroom and she took a few minutes to freshen up, throwing her hair into a bun.

When she stepped back into the room, the only light still coming from the side lamps now that she turned off the bathroom light, she grabbed the extra blanket draped over the chair. “Scoot over, drama queen.”

Paige let out a theatrical sigh as she sluggishly moved to one side of the large bed.

Azzi climbed in the bed, careful not to jostle the mattress too much as she settled beside her. Not too close, but close enough that Paige would know she was there if she moved in the middle of the night. She fluffed the blanket over herself and looked at the ceiling for a second before glancing at Paige again and saying, “Wow. She listens.”

“Only ‘cause I can’t argue right now,” Paige mumbled into the pillow.

“Yeah, yeah. Save the threats for when your eyes don’t look like a sad puppy when you open them.”

Paige opens her eyes at this, and Azzi immediately regrets her wording. Not because they were wrong, but because they were too right. Her blue eyes, rimmed with exhaustion and they were dull from the headache, but they still held a beautifulness, soft and glassy like she was seeing the world through crystalline water.

Azzi held her gaze for way longer than she meant to before clearing her throat and looking away. “Okay, maybe a cute puppy,” she said.

Paige gave a weak smirk, her eyes fluttering shut again. “Nice save.”

They settled into a nice quietness, the tension slowly draining from Paige’s body. The buzz of life outside their door fading into the background.

Azzi adjusted the blanket over her legs, glancing at Paige who was curled loosely on her side now, facing her. “Hey,” she said softly, almost hesitant to say something. “You did good tonight, y’know.”

Paige didn’t respond right away, but her lip twitched like she heard her.

Azzi kept going anyway. “I know it sucked, and I know you probably feel like shit, but you kept your head in it and you won.”

There was a pause. Just long enough to make Azzi think maybe Paige had drifted to sleep. But then, Paige responded, “Don’t think I’ve ever been so appreciative of a concussion.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the random comment. “Why?”

“If I wasn’t, I’d be too pissed. Too in my head,” Paige said with her raspy voice. “I probably wouldn’t be able to talk to you…definitely would've been an ass. Probably pissed you off or sum.”

“Don’t worry. I like it when you’re an ass.”

Paige let out a small laugh with her eyes still closed. “Yeah?”

“Mmm. Real sexy,” Azzi replied with a smile of her own, her voice dropping playfully.

That made Paige laugh again.

A comfortable silence settled in for another moment before Paige said, “Don’t let me sleep through breakfast…feels like I haven’t eaten in years.”

“I’ll have you up bright and early.”

“Not before nine,” Paige said, already half asleep.

“8:59,” Azzi said smugly as she leaned over and turned off the lamps.

She settled back beside Paige in the dark, a tiny smile still on her lips. “Goodnight, Paige.”

There was a pause before Paige’s barely-there voice responded back, “’Night, Azzi.”

Just as Azzi’s eyes were fluttering closed, Paige spoke again.

“You won the bet, by the way.”

Azzi smiled in the dark. “I know,” she whispered back.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Don’t Mess with My Girl

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You come home from work and you make the mistake of telling Bucky that a guy has been harassing you at work.

Warning: harassment from a male coworker

A/N: the snippets of Bucky in the Thunderbolts trailer have ignited my love for him again omfg.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky's already home when you arrive from work. You let out an exhausted sigh as you place your things on the kitchen island and kiss Bucky's cheek, "Hi, lovey."

He hums and looks at your slumped figure, "What's wrong?" he asks with furrowed brows, concern written all over his face.

"Just a rough day at work," you reply, opening up the dishwasher to grab a cup and snort as you see Bucky's metal prosthetic resting inside.

You turn back to him, "Explain," you say pointing at his arm.

He gives a sheepish grin and shrugs, "Today was a bit messy, is all." You chuckle and roll your eyes. You grab a cup from the top rack of the dishwasher and grab Bucky's arm, laying it on the counter.

"What happened today?" you ask as you fill your cup with water from the fridge.

Bucky shakes his head, "Nope. I asked you a question first," he walks over to you and cups your face with his right hand, "What's made my girl all upset?"

You groan, "A new hire, Noah. He's very...persistent."

"Persistent how?"

You shrug, "He just keeps asking me out, getting a little too close-"

"Fire him," Bucky immediately says.

You groan, "But he's a good employee!"

"Doesn't matter if he keeps harassing you."

"I wouldn't say he's harassing me..."

Bucky cocks a brow and places his hand on his hip in a very intimidating manner, "Does he get aggressive when you reject him?"

"...yes."

"Is he constantly berating you and not taking no for an answer?"

"...yeah."

"Does he scare you?"

"A little bit."

"Baby, that's harassment," he says as he walks over to his metal arm, placing it onto the notch and locking it in. He looks down and flexes his arm, "I can take care of him for you, easily. The fellas and I can grab him and-"

You immediately wave your hands and shake your head, "No, no, no. No! Don't hurt him! I'll-I'll handle it. I'll talk to Joan and let her know what's been going on."

"Good and if that doesn't stop him then, I'll pay him a visit," you give him a playful shove and he chuckles, "What? No one messes with my girl and gets away with it!"

____________________________

As soon as you got into the bookshop the next day, you immediately tell Joan of Noah's behavior. When he comes in, Joan pulled him aside to talk to him. You thought that everything would be good after that...but you were wrong.

When you were in the back, putting books away, Noah corners you, "Did you really have to tell Joan our business?"

You can't help but scoff at his audacity, "Well you wouldn't stop asking me out after I said no and reminding you that I have a boyfriend."

It's Noah's turn to scoff, "Oh yeah, your boyfriend," he says with air quotes, "You say you have one but you don't have him as your lockscreen and you haven't showed any pictures of him."

"He's a private person, but that's not the point! I told you 'no'! You should've stopped after that."

Noah rolls his eyes, "Oh just because someone says 'no', doesn't mean they mean it! Means they want you to try harder."

"Actually, it just means 'no' and you fuck off," a deep voice cuts in-between the confrontation between you and Noah.

Both of you turn to see Bucky standing there with a hard glare on his face.

You gulp, "Bucky, what're you doing here?"

He holds up your lunch bag, "You forgot your lunch at home," he holds it out and you rush over to him, grabbing the bag and remaining at his side.

Noah looks at Bucky with wide eyes and then at you. His face loses color as he realizes, "W-Wait, you-you're dating the White Wolf of Brooklyn?"

Bucky smirks at his nickname, "Yeah, she is. And my girl told me you wouldn't leave her alone. Sounds like even with your job on the line, you still don't seem to get the hint." He slips off his blazer, handing it off to Steve. He then starts rolling up the sleeve of his metal arm, the dim lighting of the book shop reflecting off its metal plates.

"I can definitely figure out a way to get the message through to you."

Noah stutters out a response, "N-No. Th-That's not necessary, s-sir. I-I won't bother, Y/N again, I promise."

Bucky hums, "If I see or hear you harassing my girl or anyone else, I'll make sure your body will never be found again. Scum like you don't deserve second chances, but I'm feeling a little gracious today."

Noah nods, "Thank you. I-I won't behave like that ever again."

"Good. Now apologize to Y/N," he nods to you.

Noah gulps and stutters out an apology. You simply reply with a nod and Noah scurries away.

You let out a deep breath that you didn't know you were holding. You look at Bucky, "Thanks."

He shrugs, "Anyone gives you a problem, they have to go through me," he mumbles pecking your lips.

"Y/N, do you know why Noah suddenly qui-ah," Joan turns the corner to see you and Bucky. The older woman puts her hands on her hips and gives Bucky a scolding look, "Barnes, what did you do?"

Bucky shrugs, "Just gave him a warning, ma'am. He shouldn't have been treatin' my girl like that!"

"Very true, but you know I don't condone violence in my shop."

He holds his hands up, "No violence happened, ma'am. Just a little threatenin'." Joan looks to you for confirmation and you nod.

She sighs, "Very well. Guess I need to look for another employee again."

An idea came to mind, "Actually, I know someone!"

______________

"Seriously, Y/N, I owe you one for this!" the young brunette exclaims as he follows you with a box of books in his arms.

You chuckle, "It's no problem, Peter. Besides, we both get something out of this. You're doing a much safer job like your Aunt May and Tony wanted and you get to keep an eye on me for Bucky. It's a win-win situation."

The bell above the shop's door rings and Peter immediately places the box of books down, "I got it!" he rushes to the front, "Hi, welcome to-oh! Y/N!" Peter's voice echoes through the store.

You shelf a book and head to the front, "Yeah?" you break out into a smile as you see Bucky there.

"Hey!" you approach him, giving a little wave to Steve, who stands behind him. Steve waves back, but says nothing else. You wrap your arms around Bucky and peck his lips, "What's up?"

"Had a meeting at Wanda's shop, brought some pastries for you, Joan, and the kid," he hands over the maroon pastry box with Wanda's logo on it.

"Yay! Here, Peter," you hand it off to the young man and he jaw drops, "Oh, sweet! Thanks, Mr. Barnes!" and he heads into the back to share the pastries with Joan.

Bucky places his hands on your waist, "How's he doin'?"

You chuckle, "Fine. He's very enthusiastic and a hard worker. Plus, he doesn't hit on me because he's in love with MJ."

Bucky's brows shoot up in surprise, "Jones' kid? Pft. Good luck, Parker."

You giggle and then back away, "Alright, big mob boss, I need to get back to work."

"Fine. But seriously though, you feel better? Safer?"

You nod, "I do. Thank you," you kiss his cheek and he softens, "Like I said, no one messes with my girl," he gives you a wink and wave as he exits the book shop.

[meowdei]

Sukuna hates your job. He also hates early mornings. If you put them both together, he hates the fact that your job requires you to wake up early in the morning—and by default, it wakes him, too.

“Sukuna,” you sigh. It’s the same back and forth every day. A nonstop battle of push and pull as you try to leave your (sadly comfortable) bed while he stubbornly keeps his arm draped around your body. “C’mon, we do this every day.”

“Yeah, so then stop,” he grumbles. 

“I meant you,” you purse your lips. “We wouldn’t do this every day if you would just let go.”

“We wouldn’t do this every day if you’d quit wakin’ me up.”

You let out an exasperated exhale as his arms curl around your waist tighter, pulling you closer so he can bury his face into your chest. You don’t like to admit that you somewhat encourage his difficult behavior by letting your fingers weave into his messy hair, raking your nails along his scalp while he shivers lightly. 

“I can’t cuddle you forever, you know,” you hum, smiling softly despite the absurdity of it all. “We have bills to pay.”

“I don’t need cuddles,” he grunts. It’s a ridiculously blatant lie—you’re getting dangerously close to running late because he won’t let you leave the bed, and the only reason for that is because he stubbornly refuses to let your body disentangle from his.

You expect nothing less from him, of course. You’re not naive enough to think Sukuna would admit that he appreciates having your body pressed close against his, but the evidence of his rather grumpy frown is enough that you’re contently able to assume. Gently, you pinch his cheek, grinning as you murmur, “You’re pretty clingy in the mornings.”

“Be quiet.”

“Not even going to deny it, huh?” You tease, giggling softly as he cracks open an eye and glares through sleepy, bleary pupils. “You’re down bad.”

You like to think you and Sukuna have come a long way. It’s hard to break through walls and navigate how far you can push through his exterior when it’s as tough of an exterior as it is. The first time you dare to reach between your bodies and hold his hand, yours is clammy from overthinking his reaction. What if he pulls away? Or swats your hand away? Or gets annoyed? Or weirded out? What if he realizes he doesn’t like you like that? Your brain runs a mile a minute, coming up with every worst possible outcome for ages before you have the nerve to close the gap.

(It was all for nothing in the end. He’d casually tightened his grip, of course, so your inner pep talk in your head was a pointless fit of anxiety, but you don’t think you can be blamed. He’s not exactly the most emotionally available individual.)

Now, you think fondly, he never lets go. There’s always a hand on your body. The ones that rest on your hips as he stands from behind. The one that grabs your wrist to tug you along so you keep up. The one casually laid across your thigh as you sit. The one that hikes up your shirt when he’s particularly shameless. 

He clicks his teeth with a scowl as he glances up at you and grunts, “I’m not down bad. I barely even tolerate you.”

“You seem pretty obsessed to me. I guess being this beautiful is hard to ignore, huh?”

You can practically feel the smile he’s fighting back, grinning down at him as he tries to keep his scowl painted firmly on. “It’s too early for this, brat. Get back in bed.”

“Baby, I’d love to. But I have work,” you argue, pouting.

He pretends he doesn’t hear you. You scoff incredulously as he simply pulls the blankets tighter over his shoulders and settles against your body, trying to fall back asleep as if you’re not behind schedule and risking an angry questioning from your manager. And as aggravated as you should be, you’re not.

You can’t be. (Because, really, who else has the luxury of witnessing Sukuna be clingy? Certainly no one else but you. What sort of fool would you be not to take advantage of it from time to time?)

“I know you can hear me,” you roll your eyes.

“Then you’re perfectly aware I’m ignoring you,” he huffs.

“Don’t be stubborn—I’ll be back before you know it,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He melts a bit, but his grip only gets tighter if anything. “You’re not leaving at all. Now let me sleep.”

You slump back against your pillows in defeat, letting him smugly doze off again as he presses half of his body weight over you, just to be sure you don’t try to escape. You watch the rise and fall of every steady breath. The way the usual crinkles on his face from his almost permanent frown are smoothed out. The way his lips are parted and soft puffs of air exhale every few moments. You can’t help but think how far you and Sukuna have come. How easily it is to love him and feel loved—how impossible it seemed at one point to know if he even cared.

And if you end up sending a quick text to lie about being too sick to come in just to cuddle some more, you think there are worse things to lie about.

[screampied]

‘ ONE OF HIS GIRLSSSS ! ,

ᡴꪫ‎ sum. toji ends up finding out maybe his best friend's daughter isn’t so innocent after all once he walks in on you and your precious 12k viewers. he grows amused by your little side hustle as a cam girl. but actually, maybe having him as a special guest wasn’t so bad. (girl it was)

wc. 6k

warnings. fem! reader, vōyerism, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), unprotected, praise, dirty talk, squírting, cunnílingus, slight dumbification, impact play, size kink, spit.

dbf! toji masterlist

“guys, i’m serious,” you’d utter, your monitor staring right back at you — a full live audience of over twelve thousand eyes listening to you speak. you were cooped up in your room, slouching on your chair with your legs pressed together. “he’s totally real. we even almost got caught one time.”

you were referring to your dad’s best friend, toji…

just muttering his name aloud made you feel all sorts of tingles. oh, to think how that 'one time' was just about three days ago. you still remember everything like it just happened, the intoxicating taste of toji’s lips, his unforgettable loud cologne scent, how fucking mean he was, you missed him, who were you even kidding. last time you checked, him and your father went out somewhere. you didn’t bother to care where, probably fishing or something.

skimming through the plethora of donations with filthy questions, thirsty provocative questions that desperately craved your attention, you read one, “how is he in bed, oh—well,” and you squeeze your thighs before re-adjusting your screen. “he’s okay. i had to fake my orgasms a few times though, figures ‘cause he’s kinda old.”

“oh yeah?”

as if on cue, there toji stood—right outside your doorway, hands buried in his deep roots of pockets and that same unreadable expression. he’s sending you straight daggers, you crane your neck to glance at him before you panic, “uh, i’ll talk to you guys later.”

“nah keep that shit on, girl,” he shakes his head, trodding his bare feet towards you. you mentally face palm. you could have sworn he was out somewhere with your father. “just when i thought ya couldn’t get even freakier,” he mutters, and he’s now behind you—green irises peering at your monitor. the chat suddenly spams with some of your audience lusting over toji, wondering if he’s a special guest. “heyyy,” he says to the screen, his voice was a pitchy low and then you gasp once he throws an arm around you. “is he a special guest?” and then he turns to you with a sly grin. “i don’t know, princess . . am i?”

“. . . i mean i guess,” you speak, not even realizing how your tone softens a bit. this always happened, whenever you were just a few feet away from toji, you’d feel so tense. it’s officially been a week since the two of you were screwing around—you hadn’t gotten caught, at least you think you haven’t gotten caught. the thrill of it all though, it was enticing. he eyes your little set up and he’s amused more than anything. “this is the guy i was telling you guys about,” you avert your dilated pupils back towards the bright screen. “this is . . . toji.”

“heh yo,” he scoffs at the screen with a greet, seeing how your confidence fades the moment he’s in the room with you. toji leans beside you, eyeing the lewd comments before one catches his eye. “tell him to turn around. what for?”

you sheepishly grin at the webcam, knowing some of your aroused fans wanted to take a quick peek at toji’s ass. to be fair, you couldn’t exactly blame them. you stare a bit yourself, and it was definitely. . . something.

three new tips from mod gojoclitoru: girl bye he looks like he doesn’t shower

wormfucker69: he looks like the guy who works @ my cleaners lol

shokostrapdestroyer: Where’s Shoko ?????

kanyeastinfection: Soooo hawt ;)

iloveosamudazai: i miss nanamin

“how come y’er all shy? i heard what you’ve been saying ‘bout me, y’know,” toji mumbles. he stands tall, cracking his neck towards the left. his entire frame, he was always so handsome. you take a moment to glance up at him, his perfectly chiseled physique. he looked like he was about to head to the gym, he had on a simple wife beater with dingy grey sweats. his gaze he had towards you was purely tantalizing. “. . ah,” he inches closer towards you, bending down as you sat on the office chair, getting right up close to your face. “why don’t you repeat that last bit for me. you fake your orgasms with this old man?”

“i didn’t ….” you trail off, trying to come up with some excuse. suddenly, it felt hot. you felt hot.

your heart starts to race the more he stared you down. the chat was going at a much more rapid speed, it’s like your viewer count doubled the moment toji entered. then you thought—maybe this would do you some good, having him as a special guest didn’t seem so bad.

he lightly grabs your chin, making you peer straight into his eyes. “i stay away from you for three days ‘n it seems like you forgot how to act.”

toji did have a point precisely, for the last three days you basically had the entire house to yourself. him and your father went out to some business trip, you missed him though.

of course, if you tagged along you’d be sure you’d both get caught so you just offered to watch over the house. it was as if the more time you spent with toji, the more you started to feel something.

you didn’t know what it was, it was hard to put into detail, put into pure words—but you knew for certain, you didn’t wanna stop seeing him. it was spring break after all…

“i meant what i said,” you mutter.

while returning his gaze, toji’s eyes widen for a bit, off guard by your sudden switch of attitude. you had a bit of a plan, you decided if you played along, your sweet thousands of fans would eat it up. and they were, the repetitive high-pitch sounds of constant donations rang through your ears before you continue to speak. “i faked everything, toji.”

his eyes linger into you for a long time before he drags a thumb down your lip. “well shit. that so?” and his voice—it pitches a dangerous tune. you already start to feel your thighs squeeze together more tightly. “mhm,” he grunts, watching you nod your head in response. he scoffs to himself before grumbling. “maybe i should make it more real for you then.”

with such simple words, trust and believe he does.

toji’s way of making it more real was to simply have you ride his face, all in front of your audience too.

for some reason, you felt burning up coming to the sheer realization that literally all eyes were simply on you. a quick glance at your blue light monitor and the viewer count displayed a hefty whopping amount of 12,295. all you could think about it was the hefty bank you were about to make.

your legs quaver as toji’s laid flat on your old bed, having you take your seat right on his face — his breath is hot as he runs his tongue alongside your inner thighs before giving you a stare. “eyes down here, not them,” he snarls, and you moan once he spanks your pre-soaked clit, your panties still attached. “they aren’t about to fuckin’ eat you out, are they?”

“n—no,” you murmur out, looking down back at him and he slowly runs a fat thumb down your slit.

oh, you were soaked alright.

a cute little damp spot between the middle part of your underwear makes an appearance and he slides his tongue all against it. he’s so slow with it all, making sure to take his time to make you pout out for him. “toji,” you mumble, feeling your tummy sink in before you huff out a single breath. he’s still so attractive, even underneath you—a little yet nice amount of facial hair scatters near certain parts of his face. scattered specks of brief darkened hair near his sharp jaw paint his face like an empty canvas. you run a finger against his chin and he shoots you a sleazy grin. “hurry up, toji.”

dark eyes flicker back towards you before he gifts your sopping pussy a mean spank. “hurry up toji,” he mocks your tone. you melodically whimper, watching as he licks a single stripe between your covered slit. “shut the fuck up. ‘m gonna take my time with you since apparently you ‘fake’ everything.”

you couldn’t help but merely slip out a giggle, your comment really offended him in some way. obviously, you were joking though—you and toji both knew he knew how to snatch multiple orgasms out of you at once. he was quite a skilled man without question, with his tongue—his dick, literally anything.

although, you snap out of your salacious thoughts the moment you feel him latch his tongue against your folds. it took you a minute to realize your panties were already off, he practically ripped them off and he was already digging in. you whimper, hovering your weight over his face before staring at the lit up monitor.

BIGDICKKUNA: Even my domain has better camera quality than this

gojoclitoru: here sukuna go…

FOXYKITTEN2940: clean up aisle my pants >.<

you’re starting to grind against his face, a hand combing through his hair before your bite your lip. toji stares at you, dragging a thumb down your puffy slit before leaning back to spit on it. he was always such a sloppy man—no shame in the world. you’d feel yourself pulsate whenever he did that, departing his lips away from your cunt before collecting a good wad of saliva to coat your folds with such a sheeny translucent color.

squelch after squelch, undeniably you were sopping. his nose briefly prods against your nub and you whine once he finally starts to actually eat you out.

���f-fuckkk.” you’d breathe, intaking a sharp breath. sudden dizziness overtook you—a thrum escapes from your sheeny lips as you rock your hips forward. it was hypnotic, the way you move against his mouth. toji looked so pretty underneath you too. his eyes, so hooded and half lidded—such a hungry gaze, a starved animal. he starts tantalizingly slow at first, making sure to lay the flat of his tongue against your entrance before simply digging in.

side—to—side, his head continues to swiftly shift and move as he’s devouring his meal, a thumb continues to strum against your slick arousal before he starts to suck, suck, suck.

candy, a perfect way to describe your taste in toji’s humblest opinion. he could never get enough, a few long strands of his hair tickles against your thighs as he resumes his sloppy eating. “mhm. pull on it.” he says between hot breaths, and you feel a sudden fire ignite inside of you. you knew immediately he was referring to his hair. such ruffled, messy strands desperately awaiting to be tugged by your fingers.

so you do—you take a good grab, lightly yanking him forward and he grunts.

“. . harder,” he rasps, and he’s already starting to look blissed out. eyes all glazed over, you wriggle over his face before you feel a sudden shiver overtake you. you pull harder and his face goes right against your cunt. you sloppily swipe against his nose like a credit card and he smirks at you. “that’s what ‘m talking about. ride my face, girl.”

his words, his filthy vulgarly words guide you through it all.

each pulse makes you twitch even more—each breath that runs out your mouth feels like it’s going to be your last, especially with a tongue like toji’s. he makes sure not to miss a drop, slurping quite everything out of you. he was a man—not necessarily a clean one, but he was never scared of a little mess. you start to coat the bottom part of his chin with your slit, it’s glistening so much.

after a while, toji’s already drunk off of your sweetened taste. every few flicks of his tongue against your nub makes cute whimpers coo out your throat and you only tighten the grip against his hair.

“r-right there, ‘s good when you suck there, toji.”

“cause i know what the fuck ‘m doing.” he grumbles back, bringing his same thumb to slide down your slit. he repeats it again and again. smearing your own mess right back on you, only to clean it up. he was a messy man, and with a tasty pussy that you had—you only made him ten times messier.

he was never one to complain though, toji’s the type to never say thank you—he shows you how grateful he is, it involves with being between your legs.

toji fushiguro…

a sleazy man without a single care in the word, maybe messing around his with best friend’s daughter slash colleague was a bit taboo. but did he care—no, was he gonna stop doing it—no, was he perhaps catching feelings for you the more time he spends with you? were you catching feelings?

. . .

unanswered questions, even if you asked yourself that question, you honestly couldn’t even know how to reply. the two of you never really labeled anything, so this was just a simple spring break fling right?

once courses resume and you go back to your well prestige university your father got you into due to connections, that’d probably be the last you’d see of him. toji fushiguro, the man you’ve been screwing around with for the past almost two weeks. it’s almost safe to say that you started to get attached to his presence—sometimes it’s like the two of you didn’t even care if you got caught. there was literally a time where toji fingered you under the table during dinner.

that was . . embarrassing.

the way you were trying to withhold a conversation with your father—he’s just rambling you about what a boring day he had at the office and you’re over here gushing on his best friend’s fingers. you find yourself thinking about that specific moment all too well—as well as the various other ones, him fucking you on the hood of his car, in the living room, and even the bathroom—which your panties ended up getting found.

oops.

“told you to keep those fuckin’ eyes on me,” he hoarsely rasps—snapping you out of your lewd reminiscing fantasm. his tongue, it’s swirling all against your clit as you focus your attention back towards him. with two big hands, he holds your jerky hips steady—feeling you rut against his mouth before he feels you pulse right in his mouth. “yeah.” he mutters, bringing two digits to prod towards your slick entrance. you whine, feeling him slowly insert them with ease—so wet, he was almost in awe at how you were dripping like a faucet. not even a faucet could compare nor describe how sodden your sweet cunt was. each lap he makes with his tongue gets more filthy, it turns into sucking before you’re practically spasming all over again.

you moan, hands still tight and rigidly tangled within his strands before you take a quick peek at your laptop. so many eyes were on you—so many more eyes now, the count was steadily doubling, the donations you were receiving made your mouth nearly water. tip after tip, your pupils turned into green dollar signs. this was probably the most viewers you had in the entirety of your little cam girl side hustle.

all thanks to toji.

you’re getting close, it’s inevitable—especially with the way your hips continue to rock back and forth. a cute rhythm he got accustomed to, toji brings two rough hands towards the fat mounds of your ass before squeezing it. he was always a handsy man, feeling all over your body. green pools of eyes stare right at you as you’re intaking each staggering breath that escapes your spit-glossed lips. “c-close, toji,” you’d babble out, your knees almost buckle—a sudden twinge pouring into your lower abdomen before you mewl. “gonna—cum, gonna—”

“baby hold it,” he says sternly, the base in his voice never failing to make you wet. he breaks his lips away for a moment before he glances at the screen—an upside down position. “hm. chat, should the pretty girl finish early?”

your heart drops—you knew how many trolls you had in your audience, and before you could cutely tell him to just let you climax, he hums in amusement at the incoming flood of comments.

chososbootylicker29: Petition to have Toji oiled and cheeked up

zorosballswallower: NOOOOO

anonymoususer: dad?

gojoclitoru: lol no.

and with many others the comments continue to flood.

majority of the answers being no—you hated being edged, loathed it. especially with toji because he was so damn mean. he snickers, reading the responses upside down before you feel the two tips of his fingers shove way deep inside you. your back arches and you whine ore he holds your hips in place with a single hand. “looks like y’er little fans want you to wait pretty girl,” and you look down at him with a cute glare—his lips depart and his entire mouth from the very bottom of his chin was damp. even still, he looked so attractive. “cute. a glare ain’t gonna change nothing though,” and a pout shortly stretched against your lips as he runs his tongue near your frantic pulsing clit. he brings a spank to it and it makes you whine. “be a good girl ‘n wait a little longer.”

“i can’t,” you frown out, and that only earns another sharp spank towards your folds.

“yes you fuckin’ can,” and you start to whine once he stops eating you out. it felt so warm, all of a sudden the cold air wafts against your skin and you shudder. toji loves more than anything to spank your pussy whilst staring right into your eyes. “if i tell my girl to wait, she’s gonna wait.”

my girl…

for some reason, that made your pulsing ten times worse, a plethora of butterflies arise inside your stomach and you’re still just hovering over his face.

he palpates his fingers—not his tongue to rummage all inside your cunt, you frown cutely. you wanted his tongue, not his stubby thick fingers. although, the thing you wanted most was to finish. as you grind against his face, you feel his infamous scar run against your pussy and it tickles. it tickles in such a way that it drags out a sweet crying moan from you.

“t—toji,” you start to grow impatient. he’s just teasing you, blowing against your folds with warm breath, swiping his nose alongside your sopping entrance, anything but tasting you again. he likes seeing you like this, on the brink of tears because you got denied a climax. it started to come closer and closer until once it was finally there—you puff up your cheeks for a split second before moaning. “g-god, i can’t hold it. ‘m gonna cummm.”

“wait,” he utters in a husky rasp, watching as you quaveringly hover over his face—chin just soaked with your arousal, he licks the bottom of his lip before tittering at you. “you finish when i’m ready.”

“f-fuck you,” you whimper, and you end up cumming anyway—he’s taken aback but it only arouses him even more. the brat, oh the brat that you were. one of the many things he liked about you, you were submissive but not entirely—you had a backbone, you talked back to him, you even had the nerve to roll those pretty eyes at him.

it hits you like a semi-truck.

illegal full speed, the brakes were had to step on and you feel it just strike right into you at full force. your orgasm, you scoot your hips forward against his mouth and now he’s the one glaring at you. toji laps up all of you, two fingers spreading your clit apart before he spits on it again. “you just don’t listen, huh,” and his voice was even lower than it was before—a rich baritone lingering underneath it. you’re riding out your climax when he lightly shoves you on the bed.

in your mind, you’re thinking . .

finally, the good part.

toji grimaces at the cute smile that goes against your lips. you’re eager just as him— not to mention, it’s been three days since he’s touched you. “don’t get too excited, brat,” he grumbles with a scowl tugging the corners of his mouth. he plops onto the bed before staring down at you. “bend the fuck over for me. fake orgasm my ass.”

so blunt, you immensely comply—so impatient for him to just be inside of you.

the piles of donations triple by this point, and you try to take a peep at your screen before he spanks your ass. “ass up, face down little girl. don’t got all day.”

“sorryyy,” you giggle with a mere eye roll.

testing toji’s patience was always so fun for you. for whatever reason, getting on his nerves really turned you on. once you finally bend over for him, two hands grab the fats of your ass and you bite your lip once he prepares to align himself. you’re facing your bright lit screen.

the comments talking more about toji than you and you pout . . . figures though. he’s hot, no wonder all the attention would be on him instead of you.

with his right hand, he wraps it around his thick length before rubbing his tip against your pre-drenched entrance. he grunts, witnessing how your pussy tries to swallow him so easily…

you’re puckering, awaiting for him to stuff you full as you’re slump right into the mattress. “but sweetheart, y’er not sorry,” he grunts, smacking his fat tip against your slick folds. a soft mewl runs out the back of your throat before you arch just a bit more. with another spank, he snarls in a huff, “not gonna fuck ya that easy. y’er gonna have to use those manners if you wanna get what you want.”

“huh?”

“huh?” he mocks, kissing your ass with another spank from his palm. “you can’t hear? speak, girl. talk ‘ta me nice.”

glossy eyes of yours avert towards your screen, everyone’s lusting over toji and it only fuels his ego even more—you easily felt yourself throb, a pout never leaving your lips before you inhale.

“please . . ” you start, feeling him softly drag a hand against your curves, your physique. his touch always had you weak, taking in every part of your frame. all his . . just for these few weeks.

“please what?”

“please f—fuck me,” you grumble, and you’re growing more and more irritated—he hums to himself, amused. each second you spend speaking, each second he could be inside of you. you and him both knew that.

toji rubs his leaky tip with a bit more pressure against your pussy, just a a little more and he’d be inside. you started to feel your mouth salivate before you start to whine. “hm,” he ponders to himself, green eyes occasionally staring at the laptop that had about hundreds of comments spamming per second. “fine. i feel like bein’ nice to you today, especially since i haven’t seen my girl in a hot minute,” and again, he refers to you as his girl. it sends an unfamiliar feeling of butterflies brewing up in your stomach before he spanks you for probably the umpteenth time now. “now, arch a liiiitle more ‘n stare at your fans for me, yeah.”

you’re propped on the mattress with your ass all up in the air. from your screen as you stare at it, you spot toji’s mirroring reflection. that sly smile that slowly and gradually forms against his lips.

“lie the fuck down.” he mutters, feeling you try to sit up. you do, intaking a single breath before you feel him huff out a low puff. toji’s eyes stare right at your ass, he takes every moment in. the way you suck him in, it’s just filthy. the saturated squelches that shortly follow afterward—so filthy.

a six letter word to perfectly describe this entire situation.

arched over for your dad’s best friend, who would have thought—not you, not in a million years.

“ . . . shit,” he pants, and you’re so wet. you moan, pawing at the fat silk sheets in front of you. so many flooded comments of your audience merely thirsting over toji, wishing desperately that they were in your position. ( . . quite literally . . )

and toji’s just so fucking big.

he’s got a lofty height of inches under his belt.

metaphorically speaking—just a single sharp thrust and you’re speechless.

the wind gets snatched out of your lungs and it’s so vigorous that your head’s spinning. this entire angle, he’s got you right where he wants you—on all fours with your ass perked up. toji can’t keep his hands to himself anyway, his hands roam all over your waist before holding both hips in place. clammy hands just about stick to your skin before he starts to create a decent pace.

a slow pace — a slow pace that turns more mean.

languidly, you feel yourself leaning to his touch as he runs a hand down your spine.

toji brings one leg up to deepen the position and not even moments later, your lips part.

“t—toji . . ah ah,” and you don’t even recognize yourself. he repositions himself for a split second, making haste with his hips before sliding his feet right past your knees. with this, it’s more stimulation and you feel it all. just the right amount of pressure, his balls sharply thwack against your ass and it makes your mind cloud up with fuzz.

“. . damn,” he groans, a hand grabbing towards the back of your university hoodie. as he leans forward, dark viridescent colored pupils stare at your rear. the way it jerks and recoils against him, everytime . . it’s the best part. even more when he spanks it, deepening his hips against your cunt to earn out a cute whine or two from you. for what seemed like the millionth time, toji kisses the right cheek of your ass with various spanks. the sting has you gnawing on your lip like it’s candy, curling your toes up with a few droplets of sweat coating the bridge of your nose. “missed this pussy, three days too fuckin’ long, brat.”

“i missed you t—.”

“girl hello? i wasn’t talking to you.”

you frown, and it follows from a snicker from him.

“. . . so dramatic,” he’d eye roll once he hears you blow out a cute sigh. “fine, i did miss you,” and that was only a half lie. you knew in actuality, he missed what’s between your legs. toji still remained sassy as usual, it never left and it’d always stay. he’s buried all into you, deep to the hilt that each time his angry reddened tip drives against that spot, you squeal out in sweet pleasure.

it didn’t take him long to locate it, your g-spot. after a while you start to feel your pussy open, spreading wide—gaping. he was so ridiculously big, it’s leaving such question marks floating over your forehead because how can someone be this thick.

with a gruff—toji groans, veins bulging through his veins as he yanks your hoodie forward into him. he’s lenient, at least for a good while. letting you have your fun, get drunk off his cock before he edges you a more . . . oh just maybe.

gojoclitoru: does anyone want the link to my only fans :(

willbang4curses: Idk who I wanna be more…

iamnotsugurugetoseriouslyiamnothim: i want your only fans @/gojoclitoru

hotpeach03: Toji please I’m a single mom

your chat continues to spate, it’s so much that as your eyes watch them all flood down the logs, you could barely read the words.

he’s so deep inside, you’re almost drooling.

the stretch—he always leaves you so full, lips all parted and that same gaping mouth opening. pant after pant, you’re heaving heavily with your chest feeling tight and warm. “so deep,” you’d shriek, and he makes your arch lower just a bit further. he’s hitting all the right spots, not missing a single area. his dick retreats as it pulls out, then back again—twitching all inside of your cunt, he lunges forward with his hips before making you plop on your chest. “. . . .ohmygodohmygoddd,” and you were so whiney, you still can’t believe such pathetic noises slither past your damp lips. engulfed with your warm gummy walls squeezing him tight, he spanks you again . . . and again, and again.

“miss me that bad, huh?” he starts to speak. his voice was a pitchy rasp. a gruff base hides underneath it and you can hear the grit lingering like he needs to clear his throat. nevertheless, you throb anyway as he’s jackhammering his cock right into your swollen cunt over, and over, and over. “that why ya keep walkin’ around with these outfits? with no fuckin’ panties underneath, yeah?”

“forgot,” you whimper, shuddering once you feel toji grow playful. he trails his thumb towards your neglected puckering hole, fiddling with it just to get a reaction out of you, and he does. “s-sorry, ‘m sorry.”

“you don’t just forget to put panties on, slut,” he groans, and he feels himself approaching soon. it’s at the tip of his tongue—he feels the burn arise in the lower parts of his thighs, veins contouring to bulge all throughout his body. “wonder what y’er old man would think. ya only pull this shit ‘cause ‘s just you ‘n me here.”

he was right.

then again—if you’d have your father here, you’d never pull a bold stunt like that.

you’d rather drop dead than save yourself the embarrassment. funny though, considering the amount of times you almost got caught.

“so . . ” you mumble, and that’s when he presses his weight right against you this time. ah, prone bone.

you were really in for it now, thickly you swallow before his weight merely hovers over your ass, really deep in you this time.

he vigorously rams his thick cock into your sweltering cunt that’s hugging him oh so tight. he’s such a tease too—using every few chances he gets to poke and gingerly rub a thumb against your pulsating hole.

sweet moans die from your throat as you’re clinging onto the bed—such force that the springs nearly collapse from the whopping amounts of weight creating sheer impact. each thrust, it rings rapidly throughout your ears before toji groans. “f—fuck,” he’d groan, ignoring your little attempts of pure bratiness. you were at your wits end, smothering your glossed lips together before you feel his rounded cockhead mash against your most forbidden spots. spots that was so deep inside the inner areas of your cunt that it makes you mewl out in pure ecstasy. “gonna make me fill you up, princess,” he huffs out, tugging even tighter on the bottom part of your cerulean blue pull over. “s—shit,” and his gruff voice pitches time and time again. for a moment, you think you can hear toji whimper. it was real subtle though, but you heard it. loud and clearly. “gonna take it like you always do?”

“yesyesyes,” you nod—words pouring out of your lips like a waterfall, kneading your fingers into your palms as you bawled up the bedsheets right into your hands. with hooded droopy eyes, you stare at the screen with a dumb expression—he then takes the opportunity to get closer, grabbing you by the hair before holding your head up in front of your thousands of viewers.

“yes what, girl.”

you whine, feeling how perfectly his dick mashed throughout your folds—so easy for him, he was so thick that the stretch was simply immaculate.

“yesss, ‘m gonna take your c-cum, toji,” you’d pant, feeling your own eyes roll backwards—you probably looked a mess in front of your own thirteen thousand viewers, but you could care less. all that your empty brain could fathom was how you were ludicrously stuffed with his hefty cock. he’s drilling into you so good that that it almost feels like a massage. rough fingers run down your spine with one hand, another holding your head by the hair like it’s a prized possession before you whimper. “fuck me, fuck me, fuh—”

toji slaps a hand over your mouth the minute he hears something from downstairs—sure enough, it had to be your father.

shit.

he must have came home early. you remember him mentioning to you he was taking a trip to the corner store after work, probably to get some booze for him and toji to enjoy for some dumb football game.

“honeyyy? you up there?”

you moan, almost feeling your eyelids grow heavy as he’s still holding your head up in front of your laptop—his reflection in the screen just pounding into you at full speed.

already, you’re coating the back of his hand with nothing but your damp saliva—such a dirty girl, preferably his dirty girl.

maybe you were a bit delusional, no. you were very delusional—maybe this could go somewhere? then. again, it was no secret on how toji’s only around to get his dick wet, a reality that you forevermore choose to ignore—until you’d soon find out how that would bite you in the ass later on.

dead silence—you’re just muffling out mewls right into his mouth, and as if on cue, toji ends up finishing inside of you. it’s so much, velvety ropes of hot nut that fill the very insides of your pussy, shooting straight into your womb that your tummy flutters. it’s so much to where it spews out of your hole, he’s gotta poke his thumb in and swipe some out with the way it continues to leak. it’s so dirty, then again—toji fushiguro was a dirty man, the dirtiest.

“are ya gonna reply ‘n let y’er old man know you’re getting off his best friend’s cock or . . ?”

his words, such a tease that he’s still slowly pumping into you. gradually but slow, he plugs into your walls—seeping with cum that oozes out of your folds and you stare at the screen with a cute cock-drunken expression. “mmph,” was your reply, the only reply you could formulate since his big hand almost covered your entire face. so you give him a concise nod, hooded eyes feeling dry from staring at the screen for so many amount of minutes.

eventually, your father leaves and returns back to what he was doing . . . phew.

“that’s right,” he whispers in a low risqué tone, bringing a kiss towards the left part of your neck.

so tender—you’re gathering the strength to sit up but you end up slumping forward. with a pathetic, ‘oof’ you land on your chest, your own climax at the very edge. it’s cute because you end up finishing around the same time—your chest feels heavy, lungs tightly collapsing and all. the perfect way to describe your orgasm was a bomb—a bomb that was ticking and ticking, preparing to detonate before it finally does. instead, the destruction was you squirting, all over toji’s dick that stuffed you full. he’s so close up to your ear, hot breath fanning against your earlobe before he continues to speak. “. . oh, y’er fuckin’ dumb right now, aren’t ya. can barely speak.” and he removes his hand to where a trail of your spit departs. so lewd, you’re spasming from your recent release before with a quick glance—you stare at your monitor. you surpassed your tip goal by a huge milestone, yet like toji said—you were too dumb to even process let alone acknowledge it.

“t—toji,” you whimper, feeling the remnants of his sweet and savory seed pour down the crevices of your thighs. it was sticky, sticking to your skin like glue, sweltering of its entirety.

“come here, princess.”

it surprised you. for once, he was being . . . soft.

you reach backwards, closing your laptop before leaning right into toji. you moan, feeling his beefy ripped arms wrap around you, bringing you right into his embrace. bulky arms go around your waist and he pulls you into a sloppily heated kiss.

simultaneously, your heart skips a few beats—a few, probably an understatement. he tastes sweet, you could make out a brief tang of liquor on his tongue—a taste you didn’t want to ever forget. as your tongue rummages against his, you moan once he gets a bit handsy, a hand going right between your legs to feel the mess he made. the mess you made yourself also.

breathy pants could be heard from your lips as you press your dampish perspiring hands all on his bare chest. he’s wearing a somewhat of a formal shirt — you tug on his collar, yearning for him to come closer, to touch you more, hold you more. something, whatever it was was just brewing up inside of the very depths, the very pits of your stomach.

toji groans, the warmth of his breath wafting against yours before he pulls you away to get a good glimpse of you. a big hand holds your waist, and his eyes peer into you for a long time before as if he hesitates—he kisses the top of your forehead, only to stare away with a scowl.

“. . . toji,” you murmur, and by this point you weren’t speaking with your brain—more so with your heart. it was apparent, especially with the way your droopy hooded eyes suddenly soften the moment you speak out the two syllables in his name.

“let me speak first.” he grouses, a thumb stringing alongside your back, gently strumming against your skin. with the way you gazed at him, making him lie back before aligning yourself, it was clear as day that you wanted more of him. he leans back, long strands of black hair run down his face with his legs sprawled before he prepares to finish.

you straddle him, sitting flat on his lap and he’s so warm—he’s a bit flustered, flaccid from his release and of course a bit sensitive. it’s quite rare to see toji in such a . . . vulnerable state. perhaps you soften him in a few ways or less. at least, that’s what you’d like to think.

it takes him a long time to formulate the words, it’s as if his tongue was tied—weird for him considering it’s toji, he’s always direct and blunt.

and yet for once, you have him speechless.

toji lets off a irritated sigh before while what seems like forever, he mutters out a gruff, “shit. i . . i think ‘m in love with you.”

“ . . . ”

[ceeaann]

— The guy she was interested in wasn't a guy at all?!

Pairing - Vi x Reader Summary - You’ve been crushing on the mysterious, mask-wearing clerk at your favorite record store—cool, quiet, and effortlessly charming. Determined to get closer, you come up with a plan to get his number. There’s just one problem. He’s not a he at all. Vi, your sharp-tongued, short-tempered classmate, has been keeping her double life a secret. But as you fall harder and she struggles to keep up the act, one question remains— What happens when the truth finally comes out? Content - 12.1k words, a valentine special collab with @kkoga (angst monster) , heavily inspired by tgswiiwaga, slow-burn romance, angst → confusion → self-discovery, avoidance & self-isolation, mild language, miscommunication, misgendering (unintentional), emotional distress and sexuality questioning

You first spotted him at that record store. A tiny, dimly lit shop tucked between a laundromat and a café, stacked floor to ceiling with vinyl, cassettes, and CDs. The kind of place that smelled like dust, nostalgia, and warm, worn-out wood.

And he was there—behind the counter, hood up, face half-hidden behind a mask, rifling through a stack of records like he had been living and breathing music since birth.

You could barely see his face, but a few strands of messy red-pink hair peeked out from under the hoodie. When he finally glanced up—just for a second—sharp, powder-blue eyes locked onto you before flicking away, completely uninterested.

Damn.

You weren’t usually into the quiet, mysterious types. You liked confident, showy people who could match your energy. But there was something about him—about the way he moved, the way he seemed lost in his own world—that made your heart stutter.

And just like that, you were hooked.

So, naturally, you kept coming back.

“Yo,” you greeted casually, leaning against the counter one afternoon, your acrylic nails tapping against the glass. “Got any new recommendations for me today, mystery clerk?”

He barely spared you a glance before exhaling sharply. “You again?” His voice was low, gruff—maybe even a little annoyed.

Cute.

“Duh. You’ve got the best taste,” you grinned, propping your chin on your hand. “Or are you finally gonna tell me your name so I can stop calling you ‘mystery clerk’?”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Buy something, or go home.”

Oof. Rude. But also… hot.

You tilted your head. “C’mon, can’t a girl just appreciate some good music recs?”

Another sigh. But this time, he actually moved, reaching under the counter to pull out a vinyl. “Here,” he said flatly, sliding it over to you. “You’ll like this.”

You blinked. “Oh? Finally warming up to me?”

Those powder-blue eyes flicked up, unimpressed. “You just won’t shut up otherwise.”

Your heart did a stupid little flip.

Yep. You were definitely into him.

And before you knew it, visiting that record store became part of your routine.

You weren’t even sure why you kept coming back. The mystery clerk wasn’t exactly friendly. If anything, he barely tolerated you. But there was something intriguing about him—the way he never said more than necessary, the way his powder-blue eyes flickered with something unreadable whenever you tried to pry.

You wanted to crack him open. Figure him out.

Make him look at you the way you looked at him.

So you kept pushing.

Vi tried not to react when she heard the familiar jingle of the bell. Kept her head down, shuffling through the stack of records in front of her like she hadn’t already memorized every title.

She had no reason to be nervous.

She’d been working at this shop for months. She’d dealt with all kinds of customers. Music nerds, college students, old guys trying to relive their youth.

But you?

You were different.

You were loud and bright, a walking storm of acrylic nails, glittery accessories, and the kind of confidence that made Vi’s skin itch.

And yet, for some reason, she kept coming back.

Always with that same teasing smirk, the same relentless energy, the same stupid, flirty lines that made Vi's ears burn.

And the worst part?

Vi didn’t hate it.

Which was exactly why she needed to shut this down.

You leaned onto the counter, watching as the mystery clerk sorted through records like he hadn’t just heard you enter.

The usual, then.

“hello,” you greeted, tilting your head to try and catch a glimpse of his face. “You're gonna pretend I don’t exist today, or are we finally on speaking terms?”

A sigh. Then, without looking up, he muttered, “You always exist. That’s the problem.”

You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “Wow. That’s the coldest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Still, no reaction.

Damn. Tough crowd.

You tapped your nails against the glass counter. “Sooo, what’s the deal? You got a name, or do I have to keep calling you ‘mystery clerk’?”

He exhaled through his nose. “I have a name.”

“Care to share it with the class?”

A pause. Then, dryly—

“No.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

God, he was so difficult. And yet, the more he pushed you away, the more you wanted to see what was underneath all that gruffness.

One day, you were gonna crack him.

But now, you weren’t sure when things shifted.

Maybe it was the day he let you browse through the records behind the counter, even though he definitely wasn’t supposed to.

Maybe it was the time you caught him humming along to a song playing over the speakers, and even though he noticed you staring, he didn’t stop.

Or maybe it was that night, when you showed up just before closing, soaked from the rain.

You weren’t planning to go to the shop. You were just walking home, feeling restless, when your feet carried you there anyway.

When you stepped inside, shivering and dripping onto the floor, he looked up—really looked up—for the first time in forever.

And for a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw concern flicker in those powder-blue eyes.

“…You’re soaked,” he said flatly.

You sniffed. “Yeah, no shit.”

Instead of giving you his usual annoyed look, he sighed, reached behind the counter, and—

Tossed you a towel.

You blinked, catching it. “Wait, what—”

“You’re getting water everywhere,” he muttered, turning away like this wasn’t a big deal. “Dry off before the old man yells at me.”

You clutched the towel, staring at him in disbelief.

It wasn’t much. Just a small, quiet moment.

But your heart thumped all the same.

Vi cursed herself the second she tossed the towel.

Damn it. That was too nice.

Now she was gonna get attached.

The next day at school, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The way his voice sounded, low and cool. The way his hands moved when flipping through records. The way he just knew your taste in music without you even saying anything.

You sighed, resting your chin on your desk. “Ugh. I think I have a crush.”

Your friend beside you, blowing a bubble with their gum, raised a brow. “What, again? Who’s the unlucky victim this time?”

You huffed. “First of all, rude. Second, it’s this guy at the record store. He’s, like, super cool. Doesn’t talk much, but he totally has good music taste.”

Your friend snorted. “So you like him ‘cause he ignores you?”

“…Maybe.”

Before they could tease you more, the classroom door slid open, and a familiar figure strolled in.

Violet.

Vi was a known delinquent. Not the kind that skipped school completely, but the kind that barely followed any rules. Untucked uniform, tie loosened, red-pink hair a mess. She always had a band-aid or two somewhere—probably from getting into fights—and a permanent scowl on her face.

You barely paid attention to her but she looked… weirdly familiar.

You frowned, tilting your head slightly. Do I know her from somewhere?

Before you could figure it out, your friend nudged you. “So, are you gonna keep gushing about your record store crush or what?”

Oh. Right.

You shook off the thought and leaned forward with a dreamy sigh. “Okay, so he’s, like, insanely cool. He barely talks, but when he does? God. It’s like… y’know that mysterious, effortlessly hot vibe? That.”

Beside you, Vi choked on her drink.

You blinked at her. “Uh. You good?”

Vi cleared her throat aggressively, looking anywhere but at you. “Y-Yeah. Fine. Totally fine.”

You shrugged and continued, unaware of the way Vi’s entire face was burning. “Anyway, his voice? Hot. His eyes? Even hotter. He’s kinda mean, but in, like, an attractive way—”

Vi sank lower in her seat, hands gripping the hem of her blazer.

“Oh!” You clapped your hands together. “And he knows music. Like, he took one look at me and picked out the perfect album. I swear, we’ve got a connection.”

Vi shut her eyes. Oh my god, stop talking.

Your friend snickered. “Damn, you’re really down bad.”

You groaned, flopping dramatically onto the desk. “I know. But he’s just so—ugh.”

Vi pressed her fists to her burning cheeks, willing herself to disappear.

This was hell.

She was right there, sitting right next to you, and you still hadn’t realized.

And worst of all?

Now she knew exactly how much you liked her.

Sitting in class, listening to you ramble about your massive, embarrassing, painfully obvious crush—on her—and knowing you had no idea.

Vi had faced a lot of things in her life. Street fights, school suspensions, even the occasional run-in with cops.

But this?

This was worse.

She stared straight ahead, jaw clenched so hard it hurt, trying desperately to tune you out.

No luck.

“…and the way he looks at me? Like, I swear he knows I like him.”

Vi swallowed. Oh, she has no idea.

Your friend hummed. “So why don’t you just confess?”

Vi nearly had a heart attack.

Your head flopped dramatically onto your desk. “Because I don’t wanna ruin the mystery, y’know? Like, what if he’s only cool because I don’t actually know him?”

Vi’s eye twitched. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Your friend snorted. “You’re overthinking it. He’s just some random guy at a record store.”

Vi exhaled.

Yes. Exactly.

Just some random guy.

And if Vi had anything to say about it, you were gonna keep thinking that for as long as humanly possible.

Because there was no way in hell she was letting you figure this out.

This was a nightmare.

Sitting in class, listening to you ramble about your massive, embarrassing, painfully obvious crush—on her—and knowing you had no idea.

Vi had faced a lot of things in her life. Street fights, school suspensions, even the occasional run-in with cops.

But this?

This was worse.

She stared straight ahead, jaw clenched so hard it hurt, trying desperately to tune you out.

No luck.

“…and the way he looks at me? Like, I swear he knows I like him.”

Vi swallowed. Oh, she has no idea.

Your friend hummed. “So why don’t you just confess?”

Vi nearly had a heart attack.

Your head flopped dramatically onto your desk. “Because I don’t wanna ruin the mystery, y’know? Like, what if he’s only cool because I don’t actually know him?”

Vi’s eye twitched. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Your friend snorted. “You’re overthinking it. He’s just some random guy at a record store.”

Vi exhaled.

Yes. Exactly.

Just some random guy.

And if Vi had anything to say about it, you were gonna keep thinking that for as long as humanly possible.

Because there was no way in hell she was letting you figure this out. 

Vi squeezed her eyes shut.

If she just… stayed like this. Face down. Motionless.

Maybe—just maybe—she could die right here and now.

Vi needed a plan.

And fast.

Because there was no way she could survive another class period sitting next to you, listening to you go on about your crush—who, again, was her.

The problem was, she had no idea how to fix this.

Telling you outright? Not happening. That was practically social suicide.

Quitting the record store? No way. She actually liked that job.

Avoiding you? Also impossible, considering you were apparently obsessed with showing up at the store to flirt with her alter ego.

Which left her with only one option:

She had to make you lose interest.

Somehow.

Vi groaned, raking a hand through her hair. This was gonna suck.

DAY 1 

You were back at the record store the next day.

Because of course you were.

You’d spent the entire walk hyping yourself up, promising yourself you’d be cool, casual, and definitely not flustered.

But the second you stepped inside and saw him—hood up, mask on, flipping through records like he hadn’t just been staring in your daydreams all morning—your brain short-circuited.

You cleared your throat, pushing down the nervous excitement bubbling in your chest.

“Hello.”

Vi—er, mystery guy—didn’t even look up. “You again.”

You grinned. “Awww, you remember me.”

He sighed, muttering something under his breath. You caught the words so annoying but chose to ignore them.

Because, really, if he really thought you were annoying, he wouldn’t keep talking to you, right?

You leaned onto the counter. “So. Any recommendations for today?”

He slid a record toward you without hesitation.

You blinked down at it. “Wait… this is—”

“Obscure. Hard to find. And way outside your usual taste.”

Your grin widened. “You’re trying to get rid of me.”

“Obviously.”

Adorable.

You picked up the record, inspecting the cover. “Damn. If you’re gonna break my heart, at least do it gently.”

Vi—mystery guy—huffed, finally meeting your gaze. “I’m being very gentle.”

You laughed. God, he was fun to mess with.

And despite his whole act, you knew he didn’t actually hate you.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t always be so prepared for your visits.

You plopped the record onto the counter. “I’ll take it.”

“…What.”

You shrugged. “You picked it out for me, didn’t you? Can’t let your efforts go to waste.”

He stared at you like you’d just confessed to murder.

You smirked, fishing some cash out of your pocket. “Guess you’re stuck with me a little longer, huh?”

For a second—just a second—you swore you saw the tips of his ears turn red.

But then he scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You winked. “And yet, you love seeing me.”

He didn’t answer.

But he also didn’t deny it. 

Shit.

This was not going according to plan.

She was supposed to be pushing you away, not accidentally making you like her even more.

This was bad.

Very, very bad.

And the worst part?

A tiny, traitorous part of her didn’t hate it.

DAY 2

Vi wasn’t nervous.

Nope. Not at all.

Sure, she’d spent the entire morning convincing herself that you wouldn’t talk to her at school—because why would you? In your mind, she didn’t exist outside of that damn record store.

And sure, maybe her heart did skip a beat when she spotted you walking into class, chatting animatedly with your friends.

But she was not nervous.

The moment the teacher started reading out pairs for the group assignment, Vi barely paid attention—until she heard your name.

And then—

“…paired with Vi.”

Vi’s stomach dropped.

Oh, hell no.

She sat up so fast her knee banged against the desk. A few students turned to look, but she barely noticed.

There had to be a mistake.

You? Paired with her?

“Yo, Vi, chill out.” one of the guys snickered from across the room. 

Vi clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to chuck her notebook at him.

Meanwhile, you turned in your seat, scanning the classroom until your eyes landed on her.

Vi stiffened.

Your gaze lingered for a second, your head tilting slightly, like you were trying to place her.

And then—just like that—your expression shifted into something casual.

“Oh,” you said, getting up from your chair. “Guess that’s me.”

You walked over, dropping into the seat beside her without hesitation.

She should’ve skipped. She should’ve skipped.

“Alright,” you sighed, flipping through the worksheet. “Let’s get this over with.”

Vi swallowed hard, gripping her pen like it was a lifeline. “Yeah. Sure.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, reading the first question. “Alright, uh… What do you think?”

Vi blinked. “Huh?”

You gave her a look. “The question, dude. C’mon, stay with me.”

Vi’s brain short-circuited. Dude? You just called her dude?

“Right,” she muttered, clearing her throat. “Uh, I guess…” She skimmed the worksheet, barely processing the words. “This one?” She pointed to a random answer.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Vi hesitated. “...No?”

You snorted. “Yeah, let’s go with something else.”

Vi groaned internally. Great. She was an idiot and you thought she was dumb. This was just perfect.

To her credit, you didn’t seem too annoyed. If anything, you were just amused. You scribbled down an answer, tapping the pen against your chin. “Alright, next one…”

Vi exhaled slowly.

She just had to act normal. Keep it cool. Do the stupid assignment. And not think about how ridiculously close you were sitting.

Easy.

Totally easy.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t a disaster.

The two of you managed to get through the assignment without any major incidents. You mostly did the writing while Vi tried not to make a fool of herself.

And now, as you leaned back in your chair, stretching, you let out a satisfied sigh.

“Alright, that’s done,” you said. “You’re not completely useless, I guess.”

Vi huffed out a laugh. “High praise.”

You smirked, tossing your pen onto the desk. “Gotta give credit where it’s due.”

Vi wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she just nodded.

A few seconds passed.

Then, just as quickly as you’d entered her space, you got up, gathering your things.

“Well, see ya.”

And just like that, you were gone, off to rejoin your friends, laughing at something one of them said.

Vi exhaled, slumping back in her chair.

Crisis mostly averted.

But she was way too close to being caught.

DAY 3

Vi was not about to let herself slip up.

Not now. Not ever.

So after her shift at the record store, she did what she always did—ripped out her piercings, scrubbed off her black nail polish, and made sure her school uniform looked just normal enough to keep you from noticing anything.

It was foolproof.

…Or so she thought.

Because the next morning, when she sat down in class, she made the fatal mistake of stretching her hands out on her desk.

And you noticed.

“Wait a second.”

Vi’s heart stopped.

She barely had time to react before you grabbed her hand, lifting it up for inspection.

“Your nails…” you murmured, narrowing your eyes.

Vi froze.

Oh shit.

There was still a faint trace of black nail polish around the edges of her nails, smudged just enough to be noticeable.

And the way you were staring at it?

Yeah. She was so dead.

Your brows furrowed in concentration. “This color… I feel like I’ve seen it before.”

Vi yanked her hand away, forcing a scoff. “It’s just nail polish. Who cares?”

You ignored her, eyes flickering in thought. Then, slowly—dangerously—your expression shifted.

Your lips parted slightly. “No way…”

Vi stiffened. Oh god, oh god, oh god—

You snapped your fingers. “The music store guy has the exact same nail polish.”

Vi’s stomach flipped.

Was this it? Was this how she got caught?

You stared at her for another few seconds, tilting your head.

Vi could feel the gears turning in your brain.

And then—

“…Meh.”

Vi blinked. “Huh?”

You waved a hand dismissively. “Probably a coincidence.”

Vi nearly collapsed from sheer relief.

You yawned, resting your chin in your palm. “Man, that guy’s been on my mind a lot lately. Think I should ask for his number?”

Vi’s entire body locked up.

She plastered on the most uninterested face she could manage. “Dunno. Maybe he’d say no.”

You snorted. “Pfft. Yeah, right. I’m adorable.”

Vi buried her face in her arms.

She was going to die.

DAY 4

Vi had been doing so well.

She’d managed to keep you clueless, survived another school day without getting caught, and even convinced herself that she was totally in control of this whole situation.

And then you showed up at the record store with that damn smile.

“Hey, mystery guy.”

Vi didn’t look up. “Back again? We're about to close.”

“Obviously.” You leaned against the counter, eyes twinkling. “And today, I actually need your help.”

Vi exhaled, pretending to be annoyed. “You always need my help.”

You ignored that. “So, I was thinking… You’ve got good taste in music, right?”

Vi smirked. “Clearly.”

“Well, I wanna hear it.” You grinned. “Make me a playlist.”

Vi blinked. “What.”

“You know. A playlist. Songs you think I’d like.”

Vi’s stomach dropped.

Oh, hell no.

That was dangerous. Too personal. Too close. Too much room for slipping up.

She needed an excuse. Something to shut this down fast.

“Nah,” she said flatly. “Not my problem.”

Your smile didn’t waver. “Oh, come on. I know you have a good one in mind. Just send it to me.”

“I don’t—”

“Here.”

Before Vi could react, you grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand toward you.

She stiffened instantly.

Because oh god, you were holding her hand.

Not just holding—writing on it.

Her brain completely short-circuited.

She barely processed the way your fingers traced over her skin, the slight ticklish sensation of the pen gliding against it, the casual ease with which you invaded her space like it was the most natural thing in the world.

By the time she snapped out of it, it was too late.

You pulled back, capping your pen with a satisfied nod.

“There,” you said. “That’s my number.”

Vi stared at her palm like it was a ticking bomb.

You winked. “Send me the playlist, okay?”

Vi swallowed. “Uh.”

You gave her a little wave, completely unaware of the absolute meltdown she was having.

“See ya, mystery guy.”

Then, just like that, you walked out.

Leaving Vi standing there.

With your number.

On her hand.

And the horrifying realization that she had no way out of this.

The second you stepped out of the record store, you bolted around the corner, whipped out your phone, and immediately started typing.

Grinning, you typed back.

Your phone practically exploded with notifications.

Your friends lost their minds in the chat.

You laughed, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

This was too fun.

Now, all you had to do was wait.

The second you walked out of the record store, Vi knew she was screwed.

It wasn’t just because you had given her your number. No—if it had been just that, she could’ve ignored it. Pretended she lost it. Lied about never seeing it.

But no. You wrote it on her damn hand.

And worse? You did it so casually—like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like it didn’t completely knock the air out of her lungs and set her brain on fire.

Vi was still standing there, completely frozen, when a low chuckle rumbled from the back of the store.

“You’re still in one piece, huh?”

Vi snapped out of it just in time to see Vander, her adoptive father and technically the shop’s owner, smirking as he wiped down the counter.

Powder, Vi’s little sister, was leaning dramatically against the nearest shelf, watching her with wide eyes. “Vi. Oh my God. You got a girl’s number.”

Vi scowled. “Shut up.”

“Oh, hell no.” Powder bolted forward, practically vibrating with excitement. “Lemme see!”

Before Vi could yank her hand away, Powder grabbed it, gasping at the sight of your number.

“Ohhh, this is so real.” Powder looked up at Vander with a huge grin. “Big sis has a crush.”

Vi yanked her hand back like it burned. “I do not.”

Vander chuckled. “You gonna call her?”

Vi stiffened. “What? No.”

Powder gasped dramatically. “You’re gonna ghost her?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Then what are you gonna do?”

Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Nothing. I’m gonna do nothing.”

Powder crossed her arms. “You can’t do nothing. She gave you her number. That’s, like, the universal ‘hey, I like you’ move!”

Vander hummed in agreement, setting down his rag. “Gotta say, kid, it’d be rude to leave her hanging.”

Vi’s face burned. “I don’t even know if she likes me like that!”

Powder snorted. “She wrote her number on your hand.”

“Yeah, maybe she just—” Vi cut herself off. Just what? Just wanted a playlist? Just wanted to mess with her? Just wanted an excuse to talk to her again?

Vander raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”

“I’m not.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Vi groaned, shoving her hands deep into her hoodie pockets. “Can we please just close up the store and forget this ever happened?”

Vander chuckled. “Sure, sure. But if she shows up again, I’m making you ring her up.”

Vi froze.

“Wait, no—”

But Vander was already walking toward the back room, Powder following close behind with a devious smirk.

Vi slumped against the counter, exhaling sharply.

This was not how today was supposed to go.

Vi locked up the shop, shoving her hands deep into her hoodie pockets as she stepped onto the dimly lit street.

The air was cool, the usual hum of the city filling the silence. Normally, she liked the walk home. It was quiet, easy—time to clear her head.

Not tonight.

Tonight, her brain was screaming.

Because no matter how hard she tried to push it aside, her palm still tingled where you had grabbed it.

Where you had written your damn number.

Vi scowled, rubbing at her hand as she walked. The ink had smudged a little, but the numbers were still clear.

Send me the playlist, okay?

Your words echoed in her head, over and over, until she wanted to throw herself into traffic.

She could ignore it. She should ignore it.

But that wasn’t gonna stop you.

You’d just show up at the store again, all teasing and smug, cornering her into another conversation.

She hated how easily you did that. How easily you got under her skin.

Vi exhaled sharply, kicking at a loose rock on the sidewalk.

By the time she reached home, her nerves were shot. She slammed the door behind her, tossed her bag onto the floor, and collapsed onto her bed with a heavy sigh.

Her phone buzzed.

Her breath hitched.

She scrambled for it, unlocking the screen—

Not you.

Just some random notification.

Vi groaned, flopping onto her back.

This was ridiculous.

She needed to stop thinking about you.

She needed to end this now.

Without looking, she grabbed a wet wipe from her desk and started rubbing at her palm.

The ink smudged.

But as she watched the numbers fade, her chest got this weird, horrible feeling—like she was making a mistake.

She swallowed hard.

And before she could think about it too much, she grabbed a pen.

And rewrote your number.

Just in case.

Then, throwing the pen aside, she buried her face in her pillow and groaned.

She was so, so screwed.

Vi slumped at her desk, headphones on, phone in her hand, staring at the empty playlist with a scowl.

Making a playlist for someone should be easy. It wasn’t like she hadn’t done it before. But this wasn’t just some random playlist. You had asked for it. And somehow, that made it so much harder.

She huffed and started adding songs at random, going with her usual favorites.

"Smells Like Teen Spirit" – Nirvana.A classic. No way she could go wrong with that.

"The Pretender" – Foo Fighters.Yeah, solid choice. High energy. A little chaotic. Should be your vibe.

She tapped her fingers against the desk, thinking.

"Reptilia" – The Strokes.Good riff, good energy.

"Last Nite" – The Strokes.… Maybe a bit too mainstream? Whatever. Adding it anyway.

She continued scrolling, adding songs she thought you might like—or at least songs she hoped you’d think were cool.

"Do I Wanna Know?" – Arctic Monkeys.Wait. No. That sounded way too much like a confession. She deleted it immediately.

"Are You Gonna Be My Girl" – Jet.Deleted. Way too flirty.

She groaned, running a hand through her hair. Why is this so hard?

At this rate, she was going to end up overanalyzing every song. Should she just throw in some random stuff and hope for the best? Or should she actually put effort into it?

She clicked on a new song.

"Seven Nation Army" – The White Stripes.

Okay. This one could stay.

She sat back, staring at the playlist. It was good. Solid. A little messy, but it fit.

It should’ve been fine.

But somehow, it didn’t feel like enough.

She bit her lip, hesitating—then, without thinking too hard about it, she added one last song.

"Everlong" – Foo Fighters.

Her finger hovered over the screen.

That one was definitely a little too much.

Too personal.

Too… soft.

But instead of deleting it, Vi pressed save.

Now she just had to figure out how to actually send it to you without completely losing her mind.

Your number was still sitting there, clear as day, saved under a blank contact.

She shouldn’t text you.

She should just ignore it.

But if she ignored it, you’d definitely come back to the store, all smug and teasing, asking why she hadn’t sent the playlist yet. And then what? She couldn’t just say no. That would be weird. Suspicious.

Vi groaned, flopping back onto her bed.

This was so stupid.

It was just a playlist. It wasn’t like she was agreeing to a date or something. All she had to do was send a message, drop a few song links, and be done with it.

Simple.

Easy.

Except her hands wouldn’t move.

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, typing out a quick, Here’s your playlist, before immediately deleting it.

Too blunt.

She tried again. Here you go. Let me know what you think.

Nope. Too casual. Too friendly. She didn’t talk like that.

Vi groaned, covering her face with one hand. She had never felt so stupid over a text in her life.

Her phone buzzed.

Her heart jumped.

But when she checked, it wasn’t you. Just some random notification.

Vi scowled, tossing her phone onto the bed.

She needed to get a grip.

It was just a text. Just a stupid, meaningless text.

So why the hell was it making her so nervous?

Her eyes drifted back to her phone.

Maybe… just one message.

Just to get it over with.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard again, hesitating—before she finally, finally typed:

Here’s your playlist.

She hesitated.

Then, before she could overthink it any further, she hit send.

And immediately regretted it.

Vi tossed her phone across the bed, rolling onto her stomach and groaning into her pillow.

Now she had to wait.

And that was so much worse.

You had been checking your phone way too much.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

But, well… it had been hours since you gave your number to the record store clerk, and there was still nothing. No text. No playlist. No reaction.

You weren’t worried, exactly. It’s not like he had to text you right away. But still—what was taking so long?

It wasn’t like you asked for something difficult. Just a playlist. A few songs. How hard could that be?

Your friends had been blowing up the group chat all night.

You rolled your eyes.

Okay, maybe that was a little funny. The thought of him—cool, quiet, aloof him—nervous over a simple text? No way.

You checked your phone again. Still nothing.

With an exaggerated sigh, you flopped onto your bed, tossing your phone onto your pillow. Maybe you really would have to “accidentally” stop by the record store again, just to remind him.

Before you could dwell on it too much, your phone buzzed.

Your heart jumped.

You snatched it up so fast you nearly dropped it.

One new message.

From an unknown number.

Your stomach did a little flip.

You clicked it open.

You blinked.

That was… it?

No explanation? No hey, sorry for the wait? No follow-up?

Just straight to business.

You stared at the message for a second before a grin crept onto your lips.

Classic mystery guy.

Shaking your head, you clicked on the link, opening the playlist.

The first few songs made sense. Smells Like Teen Spirit, The Pretender, Reptilia—all solid, all very him.

But as you scrolled further, something caught your eye.

"Everlong" – Foo Fighters.

You paused.

That one felt… different.

More personal.

Your lips curled into a smirk.

Oh, this was interesting.

Grinning, you clicked play.

Then, without missing a beat, you typed back:

You: Took you long enough ;)You: Good taste though. Didn’t take you for a Foo Fighters kind of guy.

And then, for good measure:

You: Guess I’ll have to come back and thank you in person.

You hit send, tossing your phone aside as Everlong started playing through your speakers.

Let’s see how he handled that.

Vi had finally started to relax.

She’d thrown herself onto her bed, tucked herself under the blankets, and convinced herself that it didn’t matter.

Your number was still there, sitting clear as day in her contacts. But if she ignored it, nothing bad would happen.

She could just go to sleep, wake up, go to work tomorrow, and pretend this never—

BZZT.

Vi flinched.

Her whole body tensed as she stared at her phone.

It was probably nothing. A spam message. An email.

Her phone buzzed again.

Nope. That was definitely a text.

Vi squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t check it. Don’t check it. Just sleep.

Her phone buzzed again.

“Oh, come on,” Vi groaned, rolling over and grabbing her phone.

Her screen lit up.

Vi’s stomach dropped.

Her face burned. Shit.

She knew she should’ve taken that song out.

Vi sat up so fast she nearly flung herself out of bed.

“Oh, come on,” she groaned, running a hand down her face.

She was so screwed.

Powder’s muffled voice called from the next room. “Vi? Why are you having a crisis?”

“I am not having a crisis!”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Oh my God, she texted you, didn’t she?!”

Vi threw a pillow at the wall. “Go to sleep, Powder!”

Her little sister just cackled.

Vi groaned, turning back to her phone.

Okay. Okay. She just had to answer normally. Like a normal person.

She started typing.

Vi: Didn’t realize I was on a deadline.

No, too dry.

She deleted it and tried again.

Vi: Didn’t know you were that impatient.

No, that sounded flirty.

God, what was wrong with her?

Powder’s voice rang out again. “Vi, if you don’t text her back, I will do it for you.”

Vi hissed. “Mind your own business!”

Powder snickered.

Vander’s voice came from down the hall, groggy with sleep. “Both of you, go to bed.”

Vi exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple.

After a full minute of struggling, she gave up and just typed:

Vi: Glad you liked it.

Simple. Safe. Nothing weird.

She hovered over the send button.

Her thumb twitched.

Then, against her better judgment, she added:

Vi: You don’t have to thank me.

There. That should be enough.

Before she could overthink it, she hit send and immediately dropped her phone onto the bed like it was a bomb.

Powder’s voice rang out one last time, muffled but way too smug:

“You’re so whipped.”

Vi buried her face in her pillow and groaned.

She was so, so screwed.

DAY 5 

The next day Vi found herself immersed in a carnival-style event at the local park. Vander’s friend was holding the event for charity, and he had asked the crew to pitch in. Powder had dragged Vi along, claiming it was going to be "fun" and that she could get free food, which Vi was more than happy to oblige. She had no school today, so why not help out?

Vi was stationed at one of the shooting booths, managing the game for the event. She wasn’t a fan of the loud noises or the chaos of crowds, but it kept her distracted. It kept her from thinking too much about you.

You were still in her head after last night. The playlist. The text. That small, nervous excitement that she couldn't shake. It was driving her crazy. So, she focused on her work and the customers in front of her, pushing all thoughts of you aside.

Just then, her eyes caught a familiar figure entering the park.

It was you.

Her heart skipped a beat. You weren’t just casually strolling through, though. You were heading right toward her booth.

Her stomach did a flip, and she felt her face flush. No. No, no, no. Why now? Why here?

Vi didn’t know how to act. There you were, looking like you belonged at this carnival more than anyone else, as if you hadn’t completely wrecked her calm and composed façade just the night before. Vi’s grip tightened around the clipboard in her hands, her eyes instinctively darting around for a way to hide—anything to avoid a repeat of their last awkward encounter.

Her eyes landed on the table next to her. A pile of carnival masks, left over from a previous booth, stared back at her. One mask in particular—a plain party mask—caught her attention. It wasn’t too flashy or dramatic. It was simple, easy to put on, and most importantly, it would cover her face. Perfect.

Without thinking too much about it, she quickly grabbed the mask and slipped it over her face, adjusting it to cover her expression just enough so that she could breathe, but still stay somewhat hidden.

Meanwhile, you were happily strolling through the carnival with your friends, casually making your way to the shooting booth. You weren’t expecting to win, but you were definitely up for the challenge.

“Bet I can beat you,” one of your friends teased, nudging you forward. “Come on, let’s see what you got.”

You sighed, a bit cocky. “I’ve got this in the bag. Watch and learn.”

Your friends laughed as you took your turn, aiming at the targets. But for some reason, the gun felt heavier than you remembered, and your aim was off. Your frustration grew with every miss.

“Ugh! Seriously?” you groaned as you fumbled with the gun, only managing to hit one target out of five.

Vi, watching from behind the booth, saw you struggling. She shifted uncomfortably in her position, feeling that familiar tug in her chest. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t like seeing you upset, even if you weren’t aware of it.

After a moment, Vi stepped forward, pulling her mask down slightly—just enough so it stayed secure but still let her speak. “You look like you need a hand,” she said, her voice a little hesitant. Her stomach flipped at the thought of being noticed. She wasn’t supposed to be the one in the spotlight, not here, not now.

You blinked, caught off guard by her presence. “What? No, I’m fine, really. Just having an off day.”

She raised an eyebrow, though her mouth quirked into an amused smile under her mask. “Doesn’t look like it.” She gestured at the gun. “You want me to take a shot?”

You hesitated. Something about her seemed oddly familiar, but you couldn’t place it. It wasn’t like you’d seen her before, but the way she carried herself... it reminded you of something.

Before you could say anything, she snatched up the gun with an easy, practiced motion. She set her stance and began taking her shots with precision, hitting every target effortlessly.

You gawked at her in silence. Damn, she’s good.

With one final shot, she hit the last target, and the bell rang, signaling a win. The lights flashed above the booth, and she handed you the prize—a giant stuffed bear.

You blinked, completely dumbfounded. “Wait, you really didn’t have to do that. I was just… trying to have fun. I didn’t expect to actually win.”

Vi shrugged, looking just a little too calm for someone who had just stepped in to save the day. "No big deal. You looked like you needed a little help."

But her mind was spinning. Why did I do that? Why did I step in?

Her eyes flicked nervously toward you, but behind her mask, her face flushed red. What the hell, Vi? She cursed to herself. Why are you acting like this?

You blinked again, studying her a little more closely. That odd sense of familiarity crept back, and you couldn’t shake it. There was something about her—the way she moved, how she made everything look so easy. But the mask was throwing you off. Maybe it’s just me overthinking. You tried to push the thought aside.

“Thanks,” you said, awkwardly accepting the prize. “I owe you one.”

Vi, still in a daze, managed a short nod, her heart racing. “No need. Just… enjoy the game.”

You gave her a small smile, but the moment was over. You turned back to your friends, who were eagerly moving toward the next booth.

As you walked away, you glanced over your shoulder, just to see her standing there, adjusting the mask, her posture stiff and unsure, like she was trying to disappear into the background.

Vi’s stomach was doing flip-flops, and her thoughts were running wild. I’m an idiot. Why the hell did I step in like that? Why’d I even try to help her? She doesn’t need me to do that, and now I look like a fool.

She couldn’t stop replaying the scene in her head, the way you’d looked at her for just a second too long, like you recognized her. Oh my god, what if she knows? What if she realizes who I am?

She adjusted her mask a little, trying to calm her nerves. You’re fine, Vi. It’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong.

But deep down, she wasn’t so sure.

She tried to distract herself by focusing on the next group of carnival-goers who approached her booth. But all she could think about was you—and that mask that probably wasn’t even enough to keep you from figuring out who she was.

Vi barely made it through the rest of her shift.

After you left the booth, she couldn’t stop replaying the moment in her head. The way you had looked at her. That pause when you had stared at her just a second too long. That stupid feeling in her gut that told her she was being so obvious.

She didn’t recognize me, right?

Vi groaned, running a hand down her face. She could still feel the warmth on her cheeks, and the way her fingers had trembled when she handed you the stuffed bear.

"Vi, are you good?"

She stiffened. Powder was suddenly right there, standing next to her booth with a half-eaten funnel cake in her hands, eyebrows raised in amusement.

Vi sighed, adjusting the mask on her face. “I’m fine, Powder.”

"You sure?" Powder smirked, taking a slow bite of her snack. "‘Cause you look like you’re about to pass out."

Vi shot her a glare. “Go bother someone else.”

“Ohhh, touchy,” Powder teased, rocking on her heels. "You look extra weird today. What’s with the mask, anyway?" She poked Vi’s arm. "What, you trying to be mysterious or something?"

Vi stiffened, nearly choking on her own breath. “No,” she said way too fast.

Powder’s smirk widened. “OHHHH MY GOD.” She pointed at Vi like she just cracked some world-ending secret. “You’re hiding from someone!”

Vi paled. “Shut up.”

"You are!” Powder cackled, her blue eyes gleaming. “Wait, wait—who is it? Someone from school? Omg, do you owe someone money? Did you piss off the wrong person?"

Vi groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Powder, I swear—"

Then, as if the universe was hell-bent on making her suffer, your voice cut through the carnival noise.

“Guys! I'm gonna try that game again—”

Vi froze.

She barely had time to react before you and your friends walked back toward the booth.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

She spun around so fast Powder blinked in confusion. “What are you—”

“COVER ME,” Vi hissed, practically throwing herself behind Powder.

Powder snorted. "Vi, you’re like 6 inches taller than me—”

“Shut up,” Vi whisper-yelled.

Powder turned, watching as you approached the booth again, seemingly interested in another round. Her eyes flicked back to Vi, who was literally crouching behind the prize shelf like some kind of escaped fugitive.

Her grin grew wicked. "Wait a second.”

Vi paled. "Powder. No."

Powder gasped, clapping her hands together. “IT’S HER.”

“SHHHH,” Vi hissed, shoving Powder away before she could draw more attention. “Be cool, be normal.”

Powder was not normal. In fact, she was giggling like a madman.

Vi had never known fear like this.

She stayed frozen in place, barely daring to peek out from behind the booth. You cannot recognize me, you cannot recognize me, you cannot recognize me—

Meanwhile, you handed some tickets to the person running the booth (thankfully not Vi) and picked up the toy gun again.

You squinted at the targets, biting your lip in focus. “Alright, I gotta redeem myself. No way I’m losing again.”

Your friends cheered you on as you took your shots—though you weren’t that much better than before.

From behind the booth, Vi watched, her fingers gripping the edge of the wooden counter.

She hated how cute you looked when you were focused.

FUCK.

She turned away, squeezing her eyes shut. Get a grip, Vi. Pull yourself together. You’re wearing a mask. She has no idea it’s you. Just stay put and—

"Hey, where’d the guy from earlier go?"

Vi's blood ran cold.

You were looking around, puzzled, obviously wondering where the masked mystery guy had disappeared to.

Powder, the absolute menace, grinned so wide it could split her face in half.

“Oh, him?” she said sweetly, her voice dripping with mischief.

Vi panicked.

She kicked Powder’s ankle under the booth.

Powder yelped. “Ow! Rude!”

You blinked at her. "Huh?"

Powder scowled at Vi (who was mouthing I will end you from behind the counter), then turned back to you with an innocent shrug.

"Dunno where he went," Powder said casually, rubbing her shin. "Probably went on break or something."

You frowned, disappointed. “Damn. Alright.”

Vi exhaled so hard she felt her soul leave her body.

You sighed, shaking your head before turning to leave. "Oh well. Let’s try the ring toss next."

Your friends nodded, and just like that, you walked away.

Vi didn’t move until you were completely out of sight.

Then, she collapsed against the booth, staring at the sky like she had just survived a near-death experience.

Powder immediately burst out laughing.

"Oh my God," she wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes. "That was painful to watch. I should’ve recorded that."

Vi groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Kill me."

"Seriously, though—"why" are you hiding?" Powder grinned, nudging her sister. “Wait, wait, don’t tell me—you have a crush on her.”

Vi flinched so hard it was like she got shot.

Powder gasped dramatically. "HOLY SHIT. YOU TOTALLY DO.”

Vi grabbed a random stuffed animal and smacked Powder with it. "SHUT UP."

Powder just cackled harder.

Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. This was a disaster.

Because, deep down, she knew Powder was right.

She had it bad.

And worse? You still had no idea.

DAY 6

Vi woke up feeling like she had been hit by a truck.

Not physically—though Powder had tackled her in a fit of laughter at least once after the carnival—but emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually.

Because, well… she had hid from you.

Like a total idiot.

Groaning, she shoved her pillow over her face and refused to move.

Maybe if she stayed in bed long enough, the earth would just open up and swallow her whole.

You didn’t recognize me… right?

The thought had been plaguing her all night. You had looked at her funny. There was something in the way your gaze lingered, like a puzzle piece that almost fit but not quite.

Vi groaned again, rolling onto her side.

She should’ve just acted normal. Just played it cool. But nooo, she had to throw a mask on her face and then go and win a stupid bear for you.

She punched her pillow. WHY did I do that?!

And worse—why did she kind of like the way you had smiled at her for it?

No. No, she was not thinking about that.

She needed to get a grip.

With a long, suffering sigh, Vi finally sat up, rubbing her face. It was her day off, and she was determined to not make it about overthinking every embarrassing thing she had done in the last 24 hours.

…Or at least she was going to be determined. After coffee.

She dragged herself to the kitchen, where Powder was already sitting at the table, swinging her legs and scrolling on her phone.

As soon as Vi entered, Powder grinned.

“Morning, mystery guy.”

Vi immediately turned around. “Nope.”

Powder cackled. “You are so embarrassing.”

Vi groaned, grabbing a mug and pouring herself coffee. “Please, for the love of God, shut up.”

Powder ignored her completely. “No, but seriously, Vi, that was painful to watch. I mean, you were full-on hiding behind a prize shelf like a little kid. That was some next-level awkward.”

Vi scowled. “I panicked.”

"Clearly." Powder smirked. "You should’ve just talked to her."

Vi scoffed. "Oh, yeah, because that would’ve gone so well. ‘Hey, remember me? I’m actually the guy you were lowkey flirting with at the record store, except I’m not a guy, and I was wearing a stupid mask all night because I’m an idiot—’”

Powder wheezed. "Yeah, that would've been hilarious."

Vi sighed, sipping her coffee. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Powder rested her chin in her hand. "Sooo… are you ever gonna tell her?”

Vi nearly choked on her coffee. “Tell her?”

“Yeah, y’know,” Powder said, tilting her head. “That you’re you.”

Vi ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. “She doesn’t need to know.”

Powder blinked. “She thinks you’re a dude.”

"She assumes I’m a dude,” Vi corrected. “I never said I was."

Powder gave her a look. "Vi, you literally avoided correcting her every time she called you ‘him.’"

Vi groaned. "It’s not that deep, Powder."

"It is that deep!" Powder threw her hands up. "You like her! And now you’re stuck in this dumbass mess because you couldn’t just say, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m a girl.’”

Vi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, one—I don’t like her. And two—”

"BULLSHIT." Powder pointed dramatically. “You are so down bad.”

Vi turned red. “I am not.”

Powder leaned in with a wicked grin. “Then why’d you win her a stuffed animal, Vi?”

Vi froze.

Powder gasped, smacking the table. “OH MY GOD.”

Vi wanted to die.

“You so like her,” Powder cackled. “Ohhh, I’m telling Vander—”

Vi slammed her hand over Powder’s mouth. “Don’t you dare.”

Powder muffled a laugh against Vi’s palm before pulling back, grinning so smugly.

Vi groaned, rubbing her temple. “This is a disaster.”

"No, this is hilarious," Powder corrected.

Vi ignored her, downing the rest of her coffee like it was alcohol.

After a long silence, Powder spoke again, her tone suddenly too casual.

“Sooo… what if she comes back to the record store today?”

Vi froze.

She hadn’t even thought about that.

You had said you’d come back.

Vi’s heart did an annoying little flip.

Powder’s smirk widened. “Ohhh, you’re so screwed.”

Vi put her head down on the table with a thud. 

DAY 7

Vi sighs, rubbing the back of her neck as she leans against the counter. It’s been a busy Saturday, and she’s been thinking about you more than she’d like to admit. Every time she catches a break, her mind drifts back to the way you’d smile at her, the way your eyes would light up whenever you walked into the shop. She tells herself it’s nothing, just a passing distraction. She’s supposed to be focused on work, not daydreaming.

She glances up at the clock.

4:00 PM.

Still no sign of you.

Vi frowns. It shouldn’t matter. It’s not like you’ve been coming every day. Maybe you’re busy. Maybe you’ve lost interest. She shouldn’t be disappointed. She doesn’t even know why she cares.

She pulls off her cap and mask, letting the cool air hit her face. It’s probably better this way. She can stop overthinking, stop wondering if you’d show up.

Meanwhile, you’re sprinting down the sidewalk, your heart pounding with a mix of frustration and nerves. You’re late. Traffic’s been hell, and now your stomach is in knots. You promised yourself you wouldn’t think about it too much, but how can you not?

You reach the record store, hand hovering over the door handle, and then—

You freeze.

There she is.

Vi.

The mask and cap are gone. The moment your eyes land on her, it’s like everything else fades away. The voice. The posture. The way she stands, leaning against the counter, the easy confidence in her movements.

Oh my god.

It was her all along.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and your stomach lurches. You’ve been crushing on Vi—the girl behind the counter—this whole time. The girl who was always right in front of you.

Your pulse quickens, blood rushing to your head as a mix of panic and disbelief crashes over you. You can barely process the flood of thoughts, and then it hits you even harder: she knew. She knew you thought she was a guy, and she never said a word. Never corrected you. Never let on.

What the hell? Why didn’t she say something?

Your fists clench at your sides as a wave of humiliation floods your chest. Did she think it was funny? Was she watching you, letting you stumble around, thinking you were flirting with some mysterious guy while secretly knowing you were completely wrong?

A sharp heat rises in your face as embarrassment claws at you, twisting into something more uncomfortable. You want to leave. You want to forget about all of this, but something’s gnawing at you. Something deeper that you don’t want to confront.

If Vi never corrected you, then why the hell were you attracted to her in the first place?

You stop yourself, heart pounding in your throat as your stomach churns. This isn’t just about her being a girl. You didn’t care about that before. Or at least, you didn’t think you did. But now? It’s impossible to ignore.

You take a shaky step back, your chest tightening with all these conflicting emotions you can’t name. Confusion. Embarrassment. Frustration.

And yet, there’s something else, something undeniable, twisting at the pit of your stomach.

You can’t go in. Not now. Not when she might see the look on your face. Not when you don’t even know what’s going on in your own head.

Without thinking, you turn and rush toward the curb, hailing the first cab that passes by. The ride back feels like an eternity. You sit there, arms crossed tightly over your chest, staring out the window as the world blurs by. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, looping in on itself, never quite settling on anything.

By the time you step through the door at home, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed. You’re unsettled. Conflicted. And you still don’t have the answers.

“Home so soon?” your mom’s voice calls from the kitchen, but you don’t even acknowledge her.

“Yeah, changed my mind,” you mutter, your voice lacking conviction as you head upstairs.

You slam the bedroom door shut behind you and collapse face-first into your bed, groaning into the pillow.

This is so stupid. Why do you care this much? Why does it feel like your entire world just shifted, and you can’t even keep up?

But the worst part? You still like Vi. You like her. And you have no idea what to do with that.

Everything feels like one big mess, and you’re stuck at the center of it.

 DAY 1 

Vi walks into the classroom, headphones stuffed into her bag seconds before entering. She lets her eyes wander around the classroom, and her gaze lands on you. You had been talking to your friends for the past few minutes, rambling on about boys or whatever the hell you guys could ramble about.

Vi places her bag next to her seat, and sits down. She took out her textbook, silently waiting for you to greet her.

…

Five minutes had passed, and it seemed as if she hadn’t even existed to you. Your friends started asking about ‘’the mysterious clerk’’ you had liked. Your expression faltered— for just a split second. But no one else noticed. You told your friends nothing new had happened, and brushed the topic aside.

Vi’s eyes dimmed. I mean, you hadn’t said anything bad. It was—  whatever.

DAY 2

Okay, she had definitely done something wrong. You talked about her yesterday, only answering a question, your friend asking for new updates on ‘’the mysterious clerk’’. You didn’t visit the shop either, Vi finding herself disappointed at the fact you hadn’t shown up. It was—  whatever.

DAY 3

‘’Hello? Vi? You there?’’ Vander says as he shakes his hand in front of Vi, trying to catch the clerks attention. Vi snaps out of whatever daze she had caught herself in.

‘’Ah— Vander? Yes sorry, I zoned out there.’’ Vander lets out a light laugh, and tells Vi it’s not a big deal. Vi curses to herself, as Powder exits the bathroom. 

‘’Saw what just happened. You good sis? You never zone out like that.’’ Powder was worried. Vi had been zoning out a lot these past few days; her sister never does that.

‘’Yeah no I’m… I’m fine. Just tired Powpow, schools been a lot.’’ Powder frowns. She was sure there was more Vi wasn’t telling her, but she knew Vi wasn’t in the mood.

‘’Okay, don’t forget to take care of yourself.’’ Vi sighs in relief as Powder starts to mind her own business. Vi doesn’t know why she keeps thinking about you— she barely even knows the girl. So what if she knew her favorite songs? So what if she knew you liked eating strawberry ice cream more than chocolate? It wasn’t that big of a deal— it was just little things. She didn’t even care that much.

DAY 4

Vi watched as you laughed with your friends, all of them sat near you. Back then— you’d try to include her in all the conversations, talking about ‘’the mysterious clerk’’. But now? You had barely spoken a word about her—  or rather, him. It was starting to concern Vi. She doesn’t recall doing anything offensive. Vi sighs. She had come to terms with her caring— even if she didn’t know why. It was quite the headache, but maybe, a part of her— had been missing you all this time.

But still, the girl had no idea why. So Vi had held it in, hoping today would be the day you finally decided to ‘’grace’’ her with your presence.

DAY 5

Vi was losing her mind.

She had no idea what was going on.

One day, you were all smiles, flirting, laughing, hanging around the store like you belonged there. Then suddenly—nothing.

You didn’t show up. You didn’t look at her in class. You didn’t even acknowledge her existence.

It wasn’t just weird—it was wrong.

Vi sat on the couch, tossing a stress ball up and catching it repeatedly, her leg bouncing. She hated feeling like this—like something was out of her control. She just needed to know what the hell happened.

She threw the ball harder. It smacked against the wall and hit her in the face.

“Dude,” Powder said from across the room, watching the whole thing. “What’s up with you?”

Vi scowled, rubbing her forehead. “Nothin’.”

Powder raised a brow. “Mhm. Right. That’s why you just took yourself out with a stress ball?”

Vi grumbled something under her breath, slumping back.

Powder hopped onto the couch beside her, nudging her shoulder. “Come on. You’re acting weird. Did something happen at school?”

Vi hesitated.

Did something happen?

She wracked her brain for answers.

You had been fine the last time she saw you at the record store. You even—she swallowed—flirted with her. You had laughed, teased her, looked at her in that way that made her ears burn.

And then?

Radio silence.

Powder poked her. “You’re thinking way too hard about this.”

Vi groaned, covering her face. “She’s ignoring me.”

Powder blinked. “Huh?”

“She—” Vi huffed, dropping her hands. “She was talking to me just fine before. And now? She won’t even look at me.”

Powder frowned, tilting her head. “Did you say something to piss her off?”

“No!” Vi paused. “…I don’t think so?”

Powder deadpanned. “Vi.”

“I didn’t!” Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “I have no clue what I did.”

“Okay, okay, jeez,” Powder said, raising her hands. “So, what, she just randomly started ignoring you?”

Vi clenched her jaw, leaning forward. “It’s not just that.”

The way she looked at her was different now—like Vi was something she didn’t want to be near.

Like she was some kind of problem.

And Vi hated it.

She didn’t even know why she cared so much.

It wasn’t like they were close. It wasn’t like she was owed anything.

Hell, she barely even knew this girl.

But still.

Something about being shut out so suddenly burned.

Powder nudged her. “If you really didn’t do anything, maybe she’s just dealing with her own stuff.”

Vi exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Give it time,” Powder said, patting Vi’s arm. “If she wants to talk, she’ll come to you. If not, then, y’know… whatever.”

Vi grunted, crossing her arms.

She hated waiting. Hated not knowing.

But what else could she do?

So, for now, she’d do what she could.

Wait.

DAY 6

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, staring blankly at the ceiling. The past few days had been… weird. Confusing. Your mind had been running in circles ever since you found out about Vi—the Vi who worked at the record store, the one who had been effortlessly cool, a little smug, and—God—the one you had definitely developed a crush on.

Except, she wasn’t a he.

And somehow, that had sent you spiraling into an existential crisis.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. This was ridiculous. It wasn’t like your feelings had changed overnight. Vi was still Vi. The same Vi who made you laugh with her dumb little comebacks and messed with you in that annoyingly attractive way. The same Vi who made your heart do flips every time she said your name.

So why the hell did everything feel so different now?

Then it hit you.

It wasn’t that you liked Vi because you thought she was a guy. It was because you liked her. You liked her—just as she was. The way she could be effortlessly confident one moment and somehow make you feel like the only person in the room the next. The way she could listen even when she acted like she didn’t care.

You liked Vi.

The realization settled deep in your chest. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just… unfamiliar. You’d never let yourself think about girls like that before. Not seriously, at least. But now that you were, it felt kind of terrifying and freeing at the same time. The fear wasn’t in liking her—it was in not knowing what that meant. Not knowing how to deal with it.

You flopped onto your bed with a groan, burying your face in your pillow. Maybe this was just a phase. Maybe you were overthinking it, letting your mind go to weird places.

But deep down, you already knew the truth.

It wasn’t just some fleeting thing. You liked Vi. You liked how she said your name in that low voice, like she had all the time in the world for you. You liked how she made you feel, how her presence felt like both a challenge and a comfort at the same time.

And maybe that was okay.

Maybe it was okay that you didn’t have all the answers. Maybe it was okay to not have everything figured out yet.

For now, you just let yourself feel. You didn’t need to understand it all, not right this second. All you needed to know was that, for the first time in a long while, you were starting to let yourself want something. Someone. And that was enough for now.

DAY 7

You didn’t expect to feel so nervous. You’d spent the last few days trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t a big deal. That it was just a conversation. That Vi would probably be completely chill about it.

But standing outside the record store now, you felt your heart pounding in your chest. You hadn’t planned on coming here today, but somehow, your feet had led you to the front door.

Vi jolts out of her thoughts when the sound of the door chime cuts through the quiet of the store. She quickly stands upright, her gaze landing on the door as it swings open. She expects the usual group of customers, maybe a few regulars, but then her heart stops when she sees you standing in the doorway. Your eyes meet hers, and for a split second, the world feels like it slows down.

You’re here.

You, who she hadn’t seen in days. You, who had left her hanging without so much as a word. She doesn’t know if she’s relieved or frustrated, but she definitely doesn’t know what to feel when she sees the look on your face—your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, your posture tense.

“Y-You’re back,” Vi stammers, her voice catching as she takes a step toward you. Her breath feels stuck in her chest as she watches you take a hesitant step forward.

There’s a tense silence that fills the space between you both. Vi fidgets with the sleeve of her jacket, unsure of what to do with her hands. Her nerves are firing, her thoughts scattered all over the place. She hasn't felt this way in a long time—so unsure, so vulnerable.

“Yeah…” you say, your voice quieter than usual. You run a hand through your hair, looking away for a brief moment before your eyes dart back to hers.

Vi stands there, waiting for you to say something more, but instead, the words feel like they’re stuck in your throat. You’d had the whole ride back to think about what to say, but now that you’re standing in front of her, it’s as if your mind has gone blank. All the questions you’ve been harboring about what happened between the two of you, about why you hadn’t seen her, they’re all jumbled up inside you. You want answers, but at the same time, you’re not even sure if you’re ready for them.

Finally, the silence stretches too long for either of you to ignore.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you blurt out, the words rushing out of you before you can stop them. Your voice is small, but the frustration behind it is clear. “Why didn’t you say anything? You knew I thought you were a guy... and you let me believe that. Why?”

Vi’s eyes widen at the sudden outburst. She hadn’t expected you to confront her like this—not now, not after everything that had happened. Her mouth opens, but the words don’t come out at first. The shock is evident on her face, her mind racing to piece together what you’re really asking.

“I…” Vi stumbles over her words, feeling heat rush to her face. “I wasn’t trying to— I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, okay? I didn’t know what to do… I didn’t know how to tell you without it being… awkward.” Her voice falters, her nerves taking over as she nervously scratches the back of her neck. “I mean, you came to the store, and you were all friendly, and I didn’t want to mess that up. I thought if I told you, you’d stop coming, and I didn’t want that.”

Your chest tightens as her words hit you. You had always suspected there was something more to her silence, but hearing it from her mouth makes it all feel real. Vi was caught between wanting to be honest and wanting to keep things easy, and in doing so, she pushed you away without even realizing it.

"Why didn’t you just tell me the truth, Vi?" you ask, your voice softer now, but still laced with confusion. "Why make me figure it out on my own?"

Vi bites her lip, looking down at the counter, clearly struggling with her emotions. “I didn’t want you to think I was… I don’t know… trying to trick you or something.” She takes a deep breath, meeting your eyes with a mix of vulnerability and frustration. “I liked you, okay? And I didn’t want to scare you off with the whole… ‘girl’ thing. But I get it. I messed up.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you process her words. You didn’t know what to think, or what you even wanted to hear. Part of you still feels betrayed, but another part of you can’t deny the flutter of something else at the thought of her liking you back.

"Why didn’t you just say it from the start?" You step closer, your frustration building again. "I didn’t care that you were a girl. Why would you think that would matter? It’s not about that."

Vi looks like she’s been struck, her face flushing even more at the implication. She swallows, the weight of your words settling in her chest. She wants to say something—anything to explain herself—but the words are trapped in her throat.

"I’m sorry," she whispers finally, her voice strained. "I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I just… I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t."

The air is thick with the tension of your unsaid thoughts. It’s clear you’re both stuck in this moment, unsure of where to go next. The truth is hanging between you, but it’s messy and complicated. There are no easy answers. No quick fixes.

You take another step toward her, and for the first time in what feels like ages, you see something in Vi’s eyes—a kind of hope, mixed with fear, but also something softer.

"Maybe… we could just start over?" You suggest hesitantly, the words leaving your lips before you can second-guess them. "Like, just talk? Without all the confusion?"

Vi’s eyes widen in disbelief for a moment before her lips pull into a small, nervous smile. "I’d like that," she says quietly.

And just like that, it feels like the weight of the past few days lifts, even if just a little. You both know there’s still a lot left to figure out, but for now, the awkward tension has broken, and maybe that’s enough for now.

Vi steps closer, her usual confident demeanor back in place, though her eyes still hold that vulnerability. “You sure? I mean, I might be a little awkward,” she says with a sheepish grin.

You snort, feeling lighter than you have in days. “I think I can handle awkward.”

Vi laughs, the sound soft and genuine, as the air around you both shifts into something more comfortable. Maybe you don’t have all the answers yet, but at least you’ve started figuring it out—together.

a/n - got lazy on the ending guys sori ;-;

[just-some-little-lads]

A Late Night

Summary: You come back home after a long day only to find Sylus waiting for you, acting a bit differently than normal. Word Count: 1.1k SFW, Second Person POV, GN MC.

Being a Hunter was good work; you knew that. However, heroism or not, long days could still have you cursing under your breath, dreaming of living in isolated peace by some lakeside. Dragging your feet, you contemplated calling in sick tomorrow. The key to your apartment flailed clumsily on it’s ring before finally turning in the slot. Shoes kicked to the shadows, work bag abandoned on the floor, you didn’t even bother turning on your lights before flopping on your couch. With your eyes closed, you were two alluring seconds away from drifting off… Till the hairs on the back of your head prickled. A sixth sense blared warnings of danger throughout your body, urging you to fly up in enough time to grab a figure approaching the back of the couch. Tact and grace were not your close friends tonight. Amidst the self-defense, you threw yourself off the couch to tackle your intruder to the ground. If you could call it a tackle, anyway. More like keeping them pinned with your collapsed body.

Before you could fully enter “interrogation mode”, a low chuckle stopped you in your tracks. Which emotion would your tone land on today? Surprise, confusion, irritation? “Sylus?” All three, apparently.

“Do you know how long I waited for you?” Despite the words, he didn’t sound irritated, just amused. He wasn’t even pushing you off of him.

After a moment of consideration, you graciously removed your knee from the middle of his back. A subtle groan suggested that your frantic maneuver had affected him more than he would ever like to admit. Step, flick, and a mellow light illuminated your living room. Sylus had pushed himself up enough to sit on the floor, his back leaning against the sofa.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not break into my apartment? Not only is it an extreme breach of my privacy, but it is also illegal!” You found yourself hissing quietly as you scolded him, worried that shouting too loud would reach the ears of curious neighbors. Neighbors who also happened to be Hunters. Hunters who would not treat the company of the most infamous N109 Zone boss so casually. “If you’re so determined to treat this place like your own, maybe I could consider making you a spare key but—“ You cut your own lecture off, noticing the distinct lack of attention of this particular criminal. “Are you listening to me? Sylus.”

A humph left his chest as he lifted himself up to his feet, needing to use the furniture for leverage. Not a detail left unnoticed. Suddenly you were worried; after all, this wouldn’t be the first time he had come to you to wounded. “Are you—“

“I can listen to you and ignore you at the same time, sweetie. And as for the moment, I don’t have a key. How else was I supposed to welcome you home after work, hmmm?” His hum dragged out longer than usual.

“—okay.” You finished your question from earlier. “I was going to ask ‘are you okay’.” Without waiting for a proper answer, you approached him, taking his wrist in your hand and observing his body for any clear wounds. He smiled down at you while you did so. Nothing…obvious, but a gut feeling was still telling you that something was off. Wrist in hand, you dragged him to the other side of the couch and shoved him into a seating position.

Another stern line of questioning was about to leave your mouth, but it never came. A soft kiss pressed itself against the back of your hand, Sylus’ head slightly lowered. A move straight out of some knightly romance. Your heart fluttered, your face flushed, yet you wouldn’t let yourself melt so easily. Yes…affection amongst other things had started to blossom between you two; however, Sylus’ demeanor always had you thinking that this was another game of his. But this… He had never been so open like this before.

The man in question raised his head, looking up at you with another grin on his face. Only, this one didn’t have that edge of haughty aloofness that typically painted his expression. He was…genuinely pleased. Should you be worried? Something else to note was the subtle tint of pink in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “No…” you ended up stating aloud. “You? Drunk?”

Sylus’ hand waved in the air, like he had to physically bat away that accusation before it stuck. “I don’t get drunk, sweetie.”

“But you have been drinking?”

Keeping your hand still in his grasp, he idly brushed a finger up and down your wrist. The motion sent a shudder down your spine. “Maybe that…exchange I told you about went very well today.” His words went hush, a deep purr in his throat as his face came close to your hand again. His breath warmed your skin. “And maybe I celebrated another resounding success with a bottle of wine I’ve been saving for a lovely rainy day.” The anticipation for him to kiss you again ended with him pressing a cheek to the back of your hand. Sylus’ face was heated. He glanced up at you through the fringe of his grey hair. Apparently, he caught that little glimpse of eagerness in your eyes.

Slowly, he guided you down onto the couch. You swallowed something building up in your throat as he began to lean over you till your back was against the armrest. “So, you came all the way out here while tipsy?” The pounding in your chest now was obvious.

Once more, he raised one of your hands. “I wanted to see you, is that such a crime?” Voice soft and low, he pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, dragging it down to his cheek, and then finally right before his mouth. If you closed your eyes and drowned out the slight condescending hum in your ears, you'd have a hard time believing that this was the leader of Onychinus. The touch was that of an entirely different man. At least one you were not well acquainted with. Maybe Sylus was the evil one in a set of twins and you got sent the benevolent one by mistake. The gestures were gentle, tender, pleading. Pinkies intertwined while his wine-tinted lips pecked different promises on the backs of your knuckles. “Can I stay tonight?”

The word ‘yes’ kept echoing in your mind at a disturbing pace, but you wouldn’t let him win with just sweetened words and some sudden puppy-dog eyes. You weren’t even aware his face could do that. “Say please.”

Sylus practically giggled, propped up by an arm next to your head. His posture lowered till his forehead pressed against yours. The tip of his nose rubbed against your own as his whisper was as quiet and needy as you were wishing it would be. “Please?”

[airybcby]

Did You See Me On TV?

( bllk boys and being in a long distance relationship )

a/n — thought about this and just HAD to write. no long distance relationship experience, but def some long distance friendship experience. rather short, but i had to get it out.

content — fem! reader, set in the ' Neo Egoist ' era, some characters repeated, all characters 18+, angst, fluff, maybe some ooc for some people??, nicknames 'love' , 'babe' , 'baby' , ' my girl ' , and 'sweetheart' used

synopsis — yes, he's a world famous soccer player, but he's also your boyfriend. how does this effect your relationship?

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you tell yourself it's fine, ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' radio silence '

it's been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play for the soccer team he'd been assigned to, and what had you heard from him?

...complete and utter silence.

you understood he was busy now, you really did, but he hadn't even called while he'd been gone. any text he sent was no more than 3 words.

you were still in love with him, but was he in love with you anymore? had he forgotten all about you? was there another girl that was better than you?

the promise the two of you had made before he left sat on your tongue like lead now.

" you'll come back whenever you can, right? " you'd asked him. " for you? always. i couldn't imagine a life without you. i promise i'll call every chance i get. "

you stared at your phone, the text you'd sent him before his game started staring back at you...mocking you.

you: good luck, love!! i'm rooting for you from home! i love you, have fun, don't get hurt. call me when you can <3

it was almost pitiful. three almost exact texts sat above that one, and he hadn't even bothered to read them until after the game, simply replying with a...

him <3 : thanks

and no, if you were wondering, he hadn't ever called you.

and here you were, like a fool, curled up in your bed watching his game on live TV, watching as he made his second goal of the day.

maybe, just maybe, he'd call you after this one.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RIN ITOSHI, oliver aiku, OTOYA EITA, rensuke kunigami

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' a complete mess '

he'd been gone a month, and you can't count a single day he hasn't called you three times at minimum. you'd been together for a while, but you never realized how much he relied on you to do basic everyday tasks for him.

"babe? do you know where i usually keep my long socks?" you heard come from your phone speaker as you were trying to do your own homework, mind you.

" usually in the middle of your top drawer next to your underwear. unless you've changed it. " you stated, he'd asked you this question every single time he had a game since he had left, but you wouldn't dare expect him to remember that.

" you're the best, baby. what would i do without you? " your boyfriend asked as he pulled socks out of his drawer, propping his phone up on the bedside lamp as he slid the socks onto his feet.

" lose your head, probably. " you joked, looking up from your work to admire him.

yes, everyone got to see him as the big, bad soccer player on TV, but with you? he seemed like a completely different person, not someone who could get a hat trick and also simultaneously asking where their phone is while it's in their hand.

" your games soon, love. you gotta get going. " you helpfully reminded him, as if you were his personal alarm ( you were but that's besides the point )

" ah crap, thank you baby. i'll call you after i win," he said cheekily. " i'll score a goal just for you, so make sure you watch!"

" you know i will. call you later, i love you. " you reflected his smile through the phone. " i love you too! " he repeated. and just as you were about to press the 'end call' button...

"oh, baby? do you remember where i put my jersey?"

yeah, without you he'd be a train wreck.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, bachira meguru, HIORI YO, gin gagamaru, ZANTETSU TSURUGI, ranze kurona

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' basically married '

it'd been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play professional soccer, and out of the four games he had played, you'd been flown out for three of them.

" do you like it? " he asked giddily, as if he was a child on christmas morning waiting to open presents. but instead of a gift, it was him showing you the hotel room he'd gotten you so you could watch his game this week too.

" you're too sweet to me, love. i would've been happy just sitting at home and cheering you on from there. " you told him. " nope! you're no longer allowed to watch the games from home," he said as if it was a fact.

oh, soccer players and their superstitions.

" even the whole team agrees! my girl is our lucky charm! "

the one game you missed, because you had a big test may i add, they lost. it wasn't a horrible loss, no, they went into additional time and lost 5-4.

your shock and confusion must have been written all of your face, because he just laughed. " c'mon sweetheart, why don't you just come live with me here ? "

many reasons, actually. you still had school, it was across the world (not really but it felt like it ), your family, your friends.

he knew all of this, of course. there usually wasn't a day that you seriously considered it. considered being here, with him, instead of having to facetime and miss him.

one day, you would, but not now...you think.

"oh, hush. you gotta get going, you have a game to win." you huffed, pushing at his shoulder to hopefully get him going out the door.

"alright, alright. i'll come back with you after the game, sweetheart. i love you, see you after my win! "

and win he would, because he swore to himself that if he won this game the velvet box that was hiding in his dresser would finally be able to come out.

but, hey, even if he didn't win, would you say no to the ring he had custom made for you?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, YUKIMIYA KENYU, chigiri hyoma, nijiro nanase, BARO SHOEI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you're just in love ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

this was really written on a whim, but i hope yall liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!