#i definitely did this in Borrowed Time

[indelen]

I love that one fanfic trope where Loki needs a disguise on Earth or whatever so he shape shifts and the narrative makes it clear it's to look like Tom.

Exactly the kind of silly little joke I like.

[seiwas]

for writing game, iwaizumi + assistance <3

hope this sparks some inspo and thank you in advancee

hi there!! thanks for sending in a prompt 🫶

contains: friends to lovers (ish), halloween parties, reader is dressed as catwoman, expletives, iwaizumi is thiiiiis 🤏 close to murdering seijoh4 (jk)

iwaizumi + assistance

this is a set-up.

iwaizumi knows he shouldn't have fucking believed anything the boys "promised" him back when they assigned him this costume.

the suit is fucking tight, spandex digging into his groins and all other crevices that definitely should be aired out after after a few hours. he's had to constantly readjust his stance almost every few minutes, the black fabric compressing his thighs and torso, significantly constricting the range of motion his shoulders and arms are typically used to. if anything else, it could double up as a back brace from how rigidly straight it's kept his posture all night.

he'll give it to makki though; he did outdo himself sourcing this year's costumes―this batman set looks pretty damn legit.

except for one tiny problem.

there's no fucking pee hole. it's a zip-up, zip-down one-piece situation. and that normally wouldn't be a problem, except that oikawa "accidentally" knocked over a cocktail straight into his pants, the sickeningly sweet liquid now seeping straight into the fabric and past his boxers―cold and sticky as it touches his skin.

and so, the problem: his pants are wet, it makes him want to fucking pee, and coincidentally, the only vacant bathroom is across the hall, at your apartment.

this is why he believes this is a set up. that, and the fact that you're dressed in an outfit strikingly similar―just with cat ears.

he's been asked five times in this party if you're in matching couple outfits.

it catches him off guard, flusters him because of how badly he wants to say yes. but, you're just friends, and he doesn't even think you like him that way (despite mattsun and oikawa practically begging him to confess. makki tells him he thinks you're going to do it first).

so he politely smiles and says no, but you look good, your costume clinging to you in all the right places. thank fucking god he has a cape because he's pretty sure he spent the first 30 minutes in the party hiding his boner.

"hajime, it's fine, i swear," you stand beside him in front of the conveniently locked bathroom in oikawa's apartment. from the other side of the door, he's pretty sure he hears mattsun and his girlfriend mumbling. maybe fucking? who knows. "you can just use the bathroom in my apartment."

he glances at you before closing his eyes, contemplating, before finally agreeing to you.

"okay."

if he's being honest with himself, friends is definitely an incomplete label to what you are. as oikawa's neighbor, you are conveniently around all the time; and oikawa being oikawa, the ever-social butterfly, he's somehow managed to carve a space for you in the friend group.

(never mind the fact that oikawa's sniffed him out from the moment he first introduced you.)

you were a crush, then a friend, and now you're someone he picks up from work and drives back home three times a week, because he "has to train oikawa." you don't question it, even when you both know he stays over for dinner way past the gym's open hours.

"you know where it is," you open your apartment and urge him in.

"sorry again," he turns to face you.

"yeah, yeah, just pee!" you laugh, shoving him towards the bathroom door.

getting out of the suit is manageable, and he's able to wipe off a bit of the cocktail that's leaked to the suit and his boxers just to make sure it isn't gross and sticky when he gets home later. peeing is a big relief once he gets it over with, but it's when he has to suit up again that things become difficult.

stretching out the spandex one body part at a time is a workout in itself―the hardest task being when he has to pull it over his shoulders, adjusting it to fit properly over his arms and chest.

but then the zipper breaks.

and he truly thinks makki has fucked him over.

iwaizumi contemplates what to do next for a good, good while. he tries calling oikawa, only to no success every time; no way in hell is he calling mattsun in the middle of having sex. and calling makki isn't even an option; he'd never hear the end of it.

then you knock on the door, your voice soft and concerned as you ask, "hajime? you good in there?" you hit it spot on, too, "do you need help with your suit?"

iwaizumi presses his palms to his eyes. he's a rational man, straightforward and logical in thinking. there is literally no other option for him right now but to ask help from you. again.

fuck.

.

it's 30 minutes later when oikawa barges in your door, and the sight that greets him is iwaizumi in nothing but a hoodie (the hoodie you borrowed some time ago) and his boxers, with his hands on your waist as you hover your hairdryer over the crotch of his batman costume―cat headpiece off and all.

"you finally got together?!"

[good-beansdraws]

Massive Milgramsona art/info dump as a treat to myself!! Alas, my fatal flaw is being unable to shut up about anything even while simultaneously embarrassed/nervous to share, so here's literally all the info I have on her 😅

Profile:

Name: For the sake of posting online I’ll call her Rose!

Number: 012

Color: #E7355B

Age: She’d be 20 when Milgram started

Status: Milgram Staff, Machine Technician

Song genre: Pop/theater (a mix of Mahiru and Kazui's vibes)

Backstory: She is studying abroad in Japan to work on technology related to the mv machine when she stumbles into top secret info about the trials. Horrified at the lack of prior testing, she demands to be included in the experiment to make sure the brand new tech runs smoothly and doesn't harm anyone in the process. To prevent her leaking info to the public and deciding an extra participant wouldn't hurt, Milgram agrees.

Role: Rose performs routine maintenance and updates on the extraction machine, and checks in with prisoners' health to make sure it's not having any adverse effects. She listens in on the interrogations, ringing the bell to signal Es when the machine is ready for use (re: my theory on how it works >:3). She then watches the mvs after Es to make sure there are no glitches.

(Though she is a personal milgramsona, her role in the story is supposed to reflect the audience's experience overall when it comes to how much info we know, emotions we experiencing regarding guilt/responsibility, and how much power over events we actually have given the voting system and trial breaks.)

Trial 1

Jackalope's comments during trial commencement: Oh, I almost forgot participant 012, Rose. We've never had more than one staff member before, so we figured that sort of numbering would be fine. Hey, don't look at me, it's not like it was our idea to include her. She's not a prisoner -- the only crime she's committed is sticking her nose where it didn't belong... You can ask her for the details, but she's just here for maintenance on our extraction machine. It's not easy keeping that thing running smoothly, you know? As part of her duties, she'll be privy to all the same information as you, but don't let her be any more of a busybody than she already is -- she has absolutely no authority when it comes to your verdict decisions, got it?

MV: Mic Check - “Can anyone hear me?”

VD: Positive Feedback

Cover: Pathological Facade - Ghost

Her album would release last in line. The VDs aren't interrogations since there's been no crime -- Es asks about her duties and observations of the prison. In them, she admits her predictions that she and Es will eventually be on trial for their involvement in the prisoner's fates.

Thus, her mvs are focused on her emotions towards the prisoners, her pride in helping bring justice, and her guilt at providing Milgram a means to pass judgement on people she cared about. I'm going to Goncharov the actual mvs/songs, but Mic Check is generally an introduction to her job behind the scenes prepping the equipment that will allow the prisoners' songs to be heard, as well kick off symbolism of her as a performer herself. She'll make a comment about how the experiment is leading to tragedy, "as if someone said Macbeth" (then covers her mouth, as she's standing in a theater herself).

I kept getting tripped up looking for Deco*27 songs that worked and weren't already taken, so I decided to go with some favorites and vibe-matching songs from other artists!

Comments during trial closing: It's good to hear you weren't a pushover when Rose gave her thoughts on the verdicts -- you guys disagreed on quite a few of them, eh? Ah... so she's not the type to pick fights, is that it? I guess that explains how she's managed to get along with everyone. (sigh) Even you knew better than to get attached like that. Well, at least she's kept our machine up and running the whole time.

Trial 2

Commencement: Now I need to wake Rose. We're going to need some extra upgrades to our machine if we want to get the most out of this round of extractions. I've got a sneaking suspicion that she and her bleeding heart are going to try and sway you during this trial. Her duty is specifically to look out for the prisoners' safety, but yours is only to judge them. Don't forget that.

MV: Changement - “Don’t say ‘break a leg,’ if it might just break.”

VD: Control Variable

Cover: TOXY - Kujiragi

I did my best to write out the title pronunciation out in katakana since I wanted it as the name of the dance move, not a direct translation of meaning. I went with シャジェモ "sha-je-mo" as the closest I could get to the "shanj-mou" sound, but feel free to correct me if there's a better way to write it. The door is based off of various set designs for Clara's home in The Nutcracker. (There's no deep meaning that this is the only one not opening -- I realized too late all the others are cracked open and my art app doesn't have the tools to easily fix that so I'm sticking with it 😭)

A changement is a small jump in ballet -- I thought it was fun to combine that (which means "to change") with Control Variable (refering to the variable in an experiment that never changes). The video shows conflicting emotions as her decisions/inaction caused so much to happen between trials, yet at the same time she feels like there's so much she'll be unable to change even if she really wants to intervene. Her mvs show the prisoners pretty regularly (since they are her crime, she's realized), and the teaser line is paired with references to Mahiru's broken leg.

The thumbnail combines different areas of study -- mechanical, medical, musical, mathematical (theater spotlight, muscles, Weakness notes, motion formulas). I think it's super cool how many areas of expertise are passed around the fanbase when discussing the characters. I've picked up new facts about plants, food, anatomy, geography, music, animals language, (sigh. color theory.), hobbies, professions, mythology, etc from fans with different fields of knowledge. While that's one of my favorite aspects of the project from the outside, I think it would be super intimidating to someone on the inside trying to tackle so much information at once.

Closing: As for Rose... (laughs) I thought she was dooming herself before--! Not only has she gotten hopelessly attached to everyone over the course of this trial, she's even started a relationship with one of the prisoners! And of all the people she could have chosen... Eh? Oh no, we have no policies against that for our staff. I mean, the whole point of Milgram is to explore human nature, the power of emotions, the complexities of connections, all that crap. I'm just grateful she shows a bit more common sense when she's operating the machine...

Trial 3

MV: Showstopper - “There won’t be applause, but I’ll take a bow, okay?”

VD: Please Exit Left

Cover: Ironina - Nilfruits

I don't know the album theme yet, but this is the tentative sprite and thumbnail design. The T2 sprite was kind of an "innocent" one, since at the beginning she still has faith in her role in the prison, excited to work with everyone there. (Plus, I joined the fandom a little after t2 started so that's peak excitement time lol). The T3 sprite has much more of a "guitly" feel to it because, at the end of T2 and after this hiatus, she'd harbor a lot more guilt about her position and fear about the experiment's conclusion. As a fun little detail, her pencil has been replaced with a more permanent utensil as final verdicts are locked in.

Now listen. My artist brain was constantly fighting my science brain when doing sprite designs -- I know gloves like that and nothing else isn't proper PPE. I know none of those are safety shoes (god forbid wearing just socks??? to the lab???). There should be no jewellery at all. The whole point of a lab coat is that you don't roll up the sleeves and expose your bare skin. However. It's anime character design. There can be compromise.

Referencing Rose's personal life as a performance and comparing Milgram's trials to one, I wanted the mv to play on "showstopper" as both a great show and a literal attempt to stop the project before it reaches its finale. There would be creepy comparisons in the mv between operating stage equipment and prison executions: curtain/set ropes and nooses, heavy duty lightswitches and electric chairs, etc.

Misc.

And lightening things up again -- birthday art and minigrams :3

Birth flower: Camellias. Pink camellias symbolize love but also longing. The fact that they bloom in winter, and have a quick death (the entire flower wilts at once, instead of individual petals falling off), have inspired different meanings in different cultures -- overcoming hard times, facing death in battle, inseparable lovers, and so on

Three minigrams featuring my own annoyance that her design is a bit close to Shidou's coat/gloves look, a mandatory short joke, and a pun that works so perfectly for my Put-In-Situations guy

[krysmcscience]

Saw this prompt for incorrect OC quotes and couldn't resist with a bunch of my Breach goobers. Some of them would absolutely say these things word for word in canon if I gave them half the chance to, though. XD

They're in order of when they showed up in person - Qīng, Ghost, Red, Marisol, Shio, Cam, Daruk, Tawoos, and Alondra - as well as some important honorable mentions who have only been mentioned or gotten dialogue - Star, Blake, and Creation.

Star's design is a slight spoiler, I suppose, but it doesn't reveal if they're human or impostor, so it's all good. Creation's "design" also isn't a spoiler at all, because They can look however They want, LOL. As for Shio...some of you who have seen the body horror I've done of them may be wondering why they look so normal here, but I promise there are Reasons. :3c

In other news, will I be making a liar out of Shio in an upcoming Breach canon divergence? ..........Maybe~ >:3c

[todayisafridaynight]

I've wanted to write a dissertation on the localization differences in　Sawashiro's Chapter 13 scenes FOREVER you have NO idea, thank you so much for pointing that out.

I did experience the full game back when it was only out in Japanese so I've certainly got Thoughts on both in comparison to the original as well. Although it's not exactly what you were talking about, I do personally think the playfulness is 100% purposeful and the more accurate take in this case! Not just in a literal sense, but in terms of authorial intent.

Chapters 1, 2, and 13 specifically are full of homages to and subversions of his character as seen in RGGO. Playfulness, unpredictability, and an off-putting sense of humor are central to RGGO!Sawashiro. He also happens to be particularly fond of fake-outs like that. Obviously a lot has changed between games, but there's a lot of fascinating interplay as well, even with 7!Sawashiro's much more subdued presentation. Yokoyama has said he was going for a story that doesn't require RGGO's context to understand or enjoy, but a story that's nonetheless made more interesting by taking RGGO's context into account. The effects of that approach are of course going to be apparent in RGGO's main antagonist.

So I don't think it's far-fetched at all to say there's a sense of humor there we just don't get to see much of, being Ichi and being in the situations we're in when we encounter him. I think that kind of works for him as a character whose idiosyncrasies are conveyed equally by what we see and what we don't see.

... I guess I kind of ended up writing a dissertation anyway lol sorry

this is like getting a letter from the president thank you so much for your dissertation and your work in general im actually framing this on my brain walls

[artemismatchalatte]

I'm reading both Hemmingway's Old Man and The Sea and Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto.

I'm glad I didn't read Hemmingway when I was younger because, I probably would have found this story boring but it's slow in the same way that Kitchen and other Japanese translations have been.

At least in my experience, barring Murakami because he writes in a totally different style, both Convenience Store Woman and Strange Weather in Tokyo had this slowness and atmosphere. They're also very character centered narratives too.

So if you liked Old Man and The Sea you might like Kitchen, Convenience Store Woman or Strange Weather in Tokyo.

[th3houseofleaves]

thinking abt dove baek and how they've done a variety of illegal things to survive and they justify all of it bc it was for their survival right and as an adult they're avoiding breaking the law as much as possible bc they have to be a good influence for sparrow bc they don't want him to pick up any of their bad behaviors right but at the same time they're super nonchalant and open abt some of the stuff they did (there's some things that are going to stay buried forever thank you very much) so sparrow absolutely picks up on that energy and the first (and only) time dove has to come pick their son up after he's caught stealing they're incredibly upset – at him but mostly themself – and they fear for their LIFE bc it's totally going to be blamed on them and while karina isn't gonna hold it against them forever she won't be happy abt it and her parents will be even more upset.

meanwhile sparrow thinks he's done some cool shit and doesn't understand why everyone's not being chill about it

[microsff]

The patron

The alien came to the library again, shortly before closing time, and quickly found a book.

"May this entity borrow The Complete History of Knitting?"

They always return the book they borrow after five minutes, but the ritual of checking it out seems important to them. 

"Of course. Did you bring your card?"

I looked them up, after the first time I saw them for real. They first registered with us over ninety years ago. The senior librarian who first told me about them said I shouldn't stare, or pry.

"Whatever else they are, they are a patron, and should be treated as such," she said. "If they seek knowledge, it is our duty to help them find it."

There isn't an ancient and secret code of librarians, but that is definitely a core part of it. If such a code existed.

I scan the card and the book. "There you go," I say and hand them over. "Please return it within two weeks."

They tilt their head. "This entity will honour your terms."

"Oh! That reminds me, we have updated the terms since your last visit." I hand them the pamphlet we got from the printers last week. "It's mostly about internet usage, but I'll need you to read them and agree."

They study the pamphlet.

"These are terms this entity can abide by." They pause. "Is there no requirement to keep your existence secret?"

"Of course not," I say, "we always welcome new patrons."

They stand silent, long enough for me to realise the implications of what I have just said. 

"This entity had made an assumption, based on prior experiences on countless worlds, where knowledge is always closely guarded and costly to obtain" they say at last. "You will provide knowledge for free to all who seek it?"

In my mind, I weigh humanity's ignorance of those countless worlds of alien civilisations against the code.

"Yes," I say, "this is a library."

[sameteeth]

reading no longer human was definitely very enlightening wrt dazai bsd's character... i feel like he's definitely more like yozo than not ie the clowning and silliness. even the weird womanizing angle that they do sometimes with dazai. bc like. he's sort of this terrible person, and he's so disparate from everyone, even at the detective agency. i think we see him working WITH the agency, like literally talking to them/conversing/helping a handful of times.. most of the time dazai acts as a singular agent. and a lot of that is definitely the way he plans it, but it still makes him an outsider, even among people who genuinely care about him, because dazai still sees himself as being disqualified from being a human.. even when he has chosen the "good" side.

[nym-wibbly]

And lo, all my fanfiction instincts kicked in halfway through season 8.

I adore Amanda Tapping. This is the first time in decades of viewing her characters that she's made my skin crawl. Great performance and some great eps as director, too.

Forget skinwalkers and the devil. Naomi scared the crap out of me by freaking Cas out that badly and smiling like that. We've seen Castiel all kinds of messed up by this point, but never helpless. (And then we found out it's her job to torture and brainwash angels back to their robotic factory settings by drilling into their head while they're still conscious. Aieee!)

| Now, as you were. They won't even notice you were gone.

Naomi in A Little Slice of Kevin (8x07) Best of SPN Ladies [393 / ?]

[blujayonthewing]

I don't even necessarily disagree but it's incredibly funny to me that he said this like that in the specific context of literally just listing a bunch of stuff that we did with my ex

[slutofpsh]

strip for me.

part four

pairings: hyungline x reader

synopsis: hyung line got you trapped in a situation that you can’t get away from.

wc: 8.4k

warnings: heavy smut, minors dni, fivesome, bullying (not promoting violence or bullying), degrading, dirty talks, curses, masturbation, hyung line being mean. this is not proof read.

note: this is not the end for strip for me so calm down. we have more to come. the next part will be heeseung’s solo part. anyway, i know it took time so please enjoy it. reblogs and replies are highly encouraged. this is not proof read so excuse the errors for now. let me know your thoughts by sending me asks. thank you so much.

part one; two; three

slutofpsh 2024 © all rights reserved.

“we’re going to have so much fun...” jake stated meaningfully before winking at you.

your steps halt from approaching the chair they reserved for you. their eyes are fully focused that despite the teacher’s continuous rambling about the project, they don’t give her any attention.

“you can sit here, doll.” and sunghoon drags the chair near him then taps it once before flashing you a soft smile, his fangs showing.

“what happened to the uniform i lend you?” he sounds a little upset while looking at your fresh polo. heeseung got you a new one that fits you perfectly.

you blushed, “i p-put it on my locker. i will wash it first then give it back to you. thank you for let me borrow it.”

he smirks, “nah, you can keep it.”

jake and jay stared at him with confusion. they can clearly remember how bad his mood was these past few days, now he’s acting like as if he’s the happiest man that walked on earth. it’s just so odd.

you obliged and sat beside sunghoon while he stare at you, eyes almost forming heart. heeseung scoffs and took off his coat then placed it on your lap since you’re wearing a skirt. a bit too short from his liking, to be specific.

with blushing cheeks, you thanked him silently.

“did i miss anything?” jake asks, confused.

jay furrowed his brows and stared at his two other friends. heeseung met his eyes and cleared his throat before sitting straight. sunghoon seemed unbothered, eyes still fixed at you with a grin on his handsome face.

“w-why?” you asked him, feeling slightly uneasy because of how he’s not taking his eyes off from you.

“nothing, you look pretty.” he mumbled so naturally before dragging your chair even closer. he did it with so much ease, he’s so strong.

you glanced away, trying hard to ignore his heated gaze. jake’s watching all of these with his two eyes without blinking. a hint of confusion and a mix of jealousy flickers inside him.

“the fuck is going on?” he stated with so much sarcasm.

if jay can shut his mouth and ignore it, well definitely not jake. he has a lot of questions inside his mind. why are his friends acting like this? and most of all, why the fuck aren’t you like that to him?

“let’s just discuss the project.” heeseung blurted out, blocking any chances to be asked by jake.

he was about to complain more, wanting to dig about this situation deeper, but stopped himself. with clenched jaw, he rests his back on his chair then glanced at your lowered head.

he scoffed, “sweetheart, i’m a little jealous. you need to make it up to me.” he stated that made your cheeks blush, ears turning red.

sunghoon rolls his eyes and impatiently taps the table, “let’s start!”

and with that, heeseung then discusses the possible topics you can research for this project. your mouth slightly gaps at how he was able to keep up with what the teacher was saying when you clearly saw him focusing on you moments ago.

it went on, its just jay who listens and you, slightly. jake and sunghoon didn’t even tries to act that they are serious to this project, one plays through his phone, the other had his head slumped over the desk. sunghoon’s hand lays on yours casually, its been like that ever since he lowered his head to sleep.

jake whined when he loses the round and glances at your direction. he smirks and winks at you which made you blush. he giggles and eyes unconsciously landed on sunghoon’s hand.

his smirk faltered and childishly removes it. jay notices and scoffed before writing down on his notes. jake then grabs your hand to intertwin your fingers together, a satisfied smile plastering his handsome face.

heeseung rolls his eyes at it then continued talking about the project that the other two boys obviously doesn’t care about.

“we’ll be doing our project on our house later.” heeseung said as a last statement to wrap your small meeting.

your head perks and back straightened at what he just said. his eyes caught you right away, attentive of you.

“can we just d-do it here at school?” you suggested since doing it on their house doesn’t sit right for you.

one of his eyebrow arches upwards, “do you have any problem doing it in mine?” he asks using a serious tone.

your lips slightly trembles and glances at jake on your side when he gradually took your hand on his lips to place a gentle kiss.

“u-uhm, i can’t go h-home late. my mom will be so worried.” you tried to reason out.

it was partly true as she was used of you coming home early. heeseung’s house is pretty far from your school and so it will take time to go home. besides, you have no problem asking your mom to pick you up by the school gate, but it will definitely raise curiosity if you suddenly ask her to pick you up at a random house.

his head tilts, “leave that one to me.” he stated and then stood up to leave the circle.

“b-but—” you are held down by jake, yanking your arms to prevent you from standing up and follow heeseung.

jay stood up then taps sunghoon on the shoulder to wake him up.

“no buts, sweetheart.” and jake leans to give you a swift kiss on the cheek then leave as well.

your eyes widen and roamed around to check if somebody saw. they’re pretty busy discussing about the project, seems like your group was the first one to finish.

a large hand resting at the small of your back is what snaps you back to your senses. he gently caress it up and down then you look over your shoulder to face sunghoon.

his eyes squints a bit, obvious that he just got awoken from a nap. “something wrong?” he asks.

you shake your head lightly and he just stares for a while before nodding his head. he stood up and guided you to go back to your chair as well.

the period ended and after the whole class thanked the teacher and bid her good-bye, she walks out of the room. after feeling the need to use the bathroom, you headed out as well.

jake’s eyes follows you and when you’re out of his sight already, he swat sunghoon’s shoulder.

“the fuck is your problem?” he hissed at him, his brows drawned closer to each other and he sets his phone down like he’s ready to punch jake right away.

“my problem? what is your problem?” jake hisses back. “why are you suddenly acting like a fucking loser in front of y/n?”

jay smirks and just listens. heeseung watches too, a ghost of a smile playing over his lips.

sunghoon’s forehead slowly loses it crease then he acts innocent before glancing back at his phone. jake almost threw his notebook at him. he can’t believe it was that fast to calm him down. by the mere mention of your name.

“what do you mean? no i’m not.”

“here you go, baby. you can sit here, doll.” jake mimics him exaggeratedly. jay laughs at how he mirrored sunghoon while the latter clenches his jaw.

it was his turn to push jake’s shoulder. “i don’t talk that way!” he says, defensive.

“you actually do, dude.” jay fires back while heeseung just laughs because of it.

“whatever.” he mumbled, ears turning red.

jake rolls his eyes, “what the fuck happened? i thought we will punish her?” and his gaze moves from sunghoon towards heeseung.

heeseung straightens his back and glances away, totally guilty of it. jake just couldn’t believe it. these two were the ones so heated up when one of their classmates reported you meeting beomgyu up at the end aisles of the library. they were so hyped up on punishing you and then they’re acting like this?

“i fucking resisted dicking her down, man!” jake complained.

“nobody told you to do that.” heeseung shrugs his shoulder off that made jake clench his jaw, pissed off.

well, the older one was right. they never agreed on anything but to imply punishment. but that was jake’s punishment for you. that was his way to let you know that he’s mad and upset. you always knew how much he couldn’t get enough of you and how he would bury his dick inside you any chances he gets.

“jake’s right. i declined her orgasms to make a point.” jay stated, looking a bit upset as well.

the boys glances at him with furrow brows, “you did what?” jake asks in disbelief.

jay shrugs his shoulder, “you know how much i love seeing her get off. its always her pleasure over mine. i needed to send her a message.”

heeseung sighs and sunghoon was so ready to hold his collar right there and then.

“dude what the fuck? she must’ve felt so frustrated and bad!” he hissed at his friend.

now, jake’s pissed off eyes darted back at him. he pushes his friend to sit back properly.

“calm down lover boy, i’m not yet done with you.” he fired at him.

sunghoon lets out a strained sigh, completely done with jake targeting him nonstop.

“come on, i lost control too you know? but what am i suppose to do when she said she’s sorry? of course i couldn’t help it.” sunghoon ranted that made the three boys around him furrow their brows.

the frown on jake’s face deepens as jay and heeseung slightly loses their minds. they contemplates and wonders if they heard that right.

“what did you say?” heeseung fires at sunghoon that made him confused. the other two boys kept their mouth shut, jaw clenched.

“she said sorry.”

they were silenced when sunghoon repeated it for them to hear it clearly. jake was the first one to react as he scoffed and heaved a sigh to calm himself down.

“that’s it, you’ll be the last one to fuck her later.” jake stated, a bit (totally) pissed.

sunghoon thick brows furrowed now, “what? that’s unfair! when did we decided that?” his head cranes to the oldest, trying to gain alliance. after-all, heeseung is in charge of equality and fairness.

but to his surprise, the older one has his brows hardly furrowed as well. his eyes looking serious and are piercing right at him.

“i agree with jake.” jay says casually that made sunghoon complain even more.

“hyung?” sunghoon calls out heeseung because this is the perfect timing to step in and break this shit going on.

“sunghoon will be the last one to touch her then?”

to his dismay, its suddenly apppointed that he will sit back and watch while his three friends devour you. it will be torturous, but its better that than not having you later. he curses and just slumped his head over the table to distract himself with a good nap.

“fucking fuck.” jake curses, still pissed.

jay claps his shoulder, “calm down. i’m afraid you’ll piss your pants sooner or later.” he joked that only made him even more pissed.

he pushes his hands away, “shut up. i’ll surely get even later with y/n. she can’t do that.”

“hey, don’t be too carried away. you’ll scare her.” jay warns him before glancing to the older guy, “right, hyung?”

heeseung was silent before he lets out a heavy sigh. “no, i agree with jake.” he shut his eyes and massages his temple a bit.

“we need to teach her a lesson. she can’t have her favorite or it will ruin us all.”

on the other hand, you’re inside the girl’s bathroom and washing your hands when (name) walks in together with her minions. she’s one of the popular girls in your class. very pretty and rich.

her mean eyes darted right at you. it screams danger so you glanced away from her and just focuses on your hand.

she walks closer and stopped beside you.

“who can expect that the quiet girl in class can be such a cunt?” her words made your brows furrow.

“excuse me?” you’re taken aback with how aggressive she is. it was so unexpected. she never approaches or talk to you then suddenly she’s going in this hard?

the response obviously made her even more mad. she raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. one glance to her minions and they went on both of your sides, cornering you. they’re giggling like hyenas.

“ooh, look at you acting all brave just because you think those boys are interested in you?” the bitterness lingers over your tone.

your brows narrowed in confusion as to what she’s talking about. you wondered more, then realization finally hits you like a big truck. boys... heeseung and his friends?

you glanced at her, “i don’t know what you m-mean.”

oh no. you stuttered. and that only mean one thing. that you’re lying and you know you are. because you out of all people, knows what she means.

you thought you’re being slick on hiding what’s going on between you and those boys, but definitely you’re wrong. you couldn’t help, but to blame it on them as they’re the ones being so bold about it. also because they’re really the one should be blame for it.

she lets out a loud sarcastic laugh, her eyes oozing with anger. she pushes your shoulder off. “oh fuck you! i’m not dumb!”

you shut your eyes and was about to walk away when her minions hold you down.

“let me go!” you tried squirming, freeing yourself which you failed miserably.

one of them curses at you and even elbowed your side. you grunted and folds because of the pain. (name) then walks closer and yanked your arm so you can face her.

“bitch! whore!” and she started to be physical, slapping you left and right.

“p-please, stop...” you begged which they ignored completely. she just continued hurting you and her friends hold you to prevent any resistance.

“you think they really like you? think again bitch!” she pulls your hair hardly making you face upwards. when your tear stained eyes met her arrogant ones, she smirks.

“for them you’re just a toy they will play with until they’re sick and tired of you.” and after that one last sentence she pushed you hard to the floor.

her friends laughed so hard while you have yourself slumped across the cold concrete. tears streaming down your face.

“let’s go girls. let’s leave that slut alone.”

you cried, feeling your face hurting and some other places in your body. but that’s not what causing your tears to flow nonstop. its what (name) said that had a big blow on you.

what she says was partly right. you have no idea what those boys want from you and base on how they treats you is similar to what she implied. a toy. that’s all you are for them. and that hurts you so much.

“y/n...” you snapped back to reality when you heard a faint call on your name.

“h-huh?” when you lift your head, you’re met with jay’s furrowed brows. his eyes scanning yours with gentle look on it.

heeseung stands a few feet away with jake. your hand sways that caught your attention, even before you can glance at the side, sunghoon’s face came into your view.

his brows folded in a worried way, “are you all right, doll?” and you can feel him squeeze your hand slightly.

“y-yes.”

he pursed his lips and scanned his eyes over your pretty face. his other free hand have your things. jake shows a displeased expression then walked towards your direction.

“give her some space. you’re crowding her.” he says, interrupting and even pushed sunghoon away from you.

hoon’s hand detached from holding yours that pissed him off a little. his eyes shooting glares at jake when he grab your wrist and started guiding you towards the car that just parked beside heeseung.

heeseung opened the door to the passenger seat when you’re near enough. he tilt his head asking you to enter his car. you glanced at his serious eyes, hands fidgets.

“my m-mom... she still doesn’t know—”

“don’t worry too much about it, angel. i already talked to her.” he stated in a lazy tone.

your mouth slightly gaps, doesn’t really want to believe him right away. you knew your mom. she’s a little bit strict when it comes to you hanging out a bit too late of your curfew at home.

“r-really?”

heeseung stares at your eyes before letting out a sigh. he fished his phone out from his pocket then dialled someone. he tapped the speaker on and eventually you heard the sound of somebody answering the phone.

“heeseung-ah?”

your eyes widen at the familiar voice errupting from the other line. heeseung handed you the phone so you can talk to her.

“m-mom..”

“y/n? darling, heeseung called me and told me that you’ll be staying late in their house for a group project?” she continuously said. you can tell base of the tone of her voice that she’s thrilled about you having friends.

“y-yes.”

“well, he’s such a nice boy. very polite as well and such a sweetheart for calling me himself to inform me about this project.” she blabbers nonstop. your cheeks blushed while feeling a bit embarrassed about it.

jake rolls his eyes as he throw his things inside his own car parked near heeseung’s. jay went to his and rest on it while waiting patiently. sunghoon hangs both of the straps of your bag on his shoulder before he gets on his big bike, holding his helmet on his free hand.

“u-uh, yes. he’s the president of the student council.” you answered while eyeing heeseung whose leaning on his car, near you. his hand rests at the open door for you.

“that’s great! he also told me that he’ll take you home later after it so i don’t have to worry.” she added.

eventually, she bids goodbye and so you did. your stares stayed at his phone before you handed it back to heeseung. he tilts his head again, asking you to enter his vehicle. without having any choice, you obliged.

you realized that no matter how hard you try to escape, there’s no getting away from them. they have control on everything and that’s what scares you the most. how smoothly they do these things and manipulate you on doing whatever that they all want. just like what (name) said. you’re like their toy.

“seatbelt, angel.” heeseung snaps you out of your own thoughts.

you nodded and grabbed over the safety strap on your side. your eyes caught sunghoon getting on his big motorbike and attractively putting his helment on for safety. you blushed unconsciously seeing your bag hangs on his broad shoulders and placed in front of him.

it looked totally out of place on how his all black motorbike and dark blue uniform mixed with your light colored school bag. it looked so feminine that you can already tell it doesn’t belong to the fine man.

his head cranes over to your side and even if heeseung’s car is heavily tinted and if sunghoon’s wearing a helmet, it seems like he’s looking directly to your eyes.

he started the engine of his bike and then a loud roaring sound errupts from it. he then bolted out from the parking lot of the school. both you and heeseung follows his bike driving away.

“such a show off.” he utters under his breath and then moves after jake drove his car out the parking.

the drive was as expected, slightly long. heeseung is quiet, only the faint song playing from the radio is what plays on the background. it was a little awkward, if you’ll be honest.

“are you cold?” you jolt a little when heeseung suddenly ask that question. he glanced at you briefly and you answered with a low ‘no’. he nods and then continued driving.

eventually, the vehicle slows down as it reaches near this huge elegant gate. your mouth gaps in amusement, eyes catching his friend’s vehicle entering as well. sunghoon’s big bike storms inside and even throw a middle finger at jake’s car.

“stay for a bit, angel. i’ll open your—” your heads whips over to the side when heeseung’s car bursts open.

jake leans downward to meet your eyes, hands rests in front, offering to help you.

“let’s go, sweetheart.” he smiles. you didn’t really have much of a choice as he reaches for your hand and guided you outside the car.

heeseung went out too and you saw jay getting off his vehicle as well. a small smirk playing over his sexy lips.

“what’s happening to the three of you, really?” he scoffs and rolls his eyes.

you glanced at the three as well, a confused look plastered all over your face. you did notice how they’re being weird from the parking lot incident.

“its because of jake. he’s so childish.” sunghoon commented right after walking near your place.

jake frowns, “no, i’m not!” he hardly objects.

heeseung rolls his eyes, “stop sulking, jake sim.” he then started walking towards the grand entrance of the big mansion right in front of you.

because of their small arguments, you failed to even notice it. now that you had the chance to admire it, you can tell that it reaks off money. some side comments and other complaints can be heard from jake but your focus was at the big house.

soon, a hand placed gently on the lower of your back.

“let’s go inside, baby.” jay says lowly and started to guide you towards the house.

you gulped, but followed him. its not like you have other options. besides you’re here to do the project... right?

when you made it inside, there are a lot of helpers assisting and attending to heeseung.

“welcome back, sir jay.” one greets when she noticed the guy beside you. looks like he’s often here that the maids are familiar of him.

oh, silly you. they all grew up together. it just made sense that they’re often at each other’s house.

“this is miss y/n.” he introduces you that caught you off-guard. she shifted her eyes to you and smiled warmly before offering a bow.

you panicked then bows back. “h-hi!”

“are you sir jay’s girlfriend?” she curiously asked right after.

“u-uhh—”

“what are you two doing? let’s go to my room.” heeseung interrupts with a stern voice.

jay smiles at the maid before guiding you towards the second floor. you just gave a small smile to the lady and just let yourself go to wherever jay asks you to.

heeseung and jay then started talking about a left work on the student council’s office. it was none of your concern so you try to busy yourself with the things you can see around the house. the interior of the whole place was just amazing. you can tell they spent a lot for their home.

you stopped walking once jay and heeseung did and you saw a door in front of heeseung. he glanced at you before opening it.

your steps halted when you’re about to go inside. something inside you just grow worried. you have no idea why, but your heart kept on beating so fast.

they noticed your sudden hesitation so both of them glanced over their shoulders, looking at you.

“what’s wrong?” jay asks while heeseung remains silent.

you gulped and took a short glance around heeseung’s spacious room. “n-nothing.”

you took a long breath, “c-can’t we just do it at your living room?” you pull up a smile in order to not raise any suspicion. the last thing you want is for them to think that you’re taking this in a wrong way.

“what’s wrong with doing it inside my room?” heeseung asks nonchalantly.

you took a step back, “u-uhm,—” you gasps when your back suddenly collided with a broad chest.

“going somewhere, doll?” sunghoon stares down at you while he stood gloriously behind you.

jake scoffs and then wrapped his arms around your shoulder, pulling up a mischievous grin.

“let’s go inside, okay? we’re going to have so much fun!” he cheers with a big smile, but you can feel your stomach churns and heart beating so fast.

sunghoon steps forward pushing you inside the room. heeseung sat down his gaming chair and rotates it so he’s facing his king sized bed. jay took off his coat and hangs it neatly by the sofa. jake’s smirking while watching you closely.

you feel timid being around and watched by them, so you looked everywhere except their eyes. the silence stretched for a couple of minutes before heeseung breaks it.

“strip, angel.” he starts then rests his back completely at the chair.

your feet glued at the floor and breathing got rigif while facing your back at them. their heated gaze pierced and almost burned a hole behind your head. you can feel it.

“strip for us.” he says in a very demanding tone.

slowly, you faced them with a slight fear flickering through your eyes.

“h-huh? but we’re suppose to d-do our project—”

“oh fuck that project, sweetheart! we’re going to do you instead.” jake interrupts smirking after licking his plump lips once. his eyes stares at you like a hungry predator.

“calm down, jake. you’re going to scare her.” jay says, mischief lazing through his voice while smirking sexily beside sunghoon.

they’re both sat at the sofa. the man beside him has his polo unbuttoned all the way, leaning forward as his elbow rests over his knees and eyes burning at you. he’s quiet and red lips hardly pursed. his dark, thick eyebrows narrowed together.

you remained standing awkwardly at the middle of heeseung’s bedroom, the door a few feet away from you. it slid inside your mind. to try and run away from them. but its impossible. with their built, they can easily catch you and who knows what that can do to you? they never go easy whenever they’re pissed off.

besides, sunghoon’s sat on the path towards it. he can easily grab and stop you from escaping. that’s totally crossed out of your plans.

you heaved a sigh, “g-guys,”

“did we ask you to talk?” heeseung.

instantly, your lips are pursed hardly. despite him showing a little soft side of him from a while ago, you’re still terrified whenever he’s very serious.

“we’re waiting, baby.” jay caught your attention.

you stared at them for a while and realized that you have nowhere to go. they got you cornered and stripped off of choices. once again, you’re helpless around these four men.

you balled your fists and jake’s eyes dropped from your pretty face to your hands. they’re trembling and he’s certain its a mixture of fear and worry. his grin grew wider. his nerves are shaking in excitement. he couldn’t wait to have you, to devour you, to ruin you.

“go on, y/n.” heeseung, again with his stern voice.

your eyes darted at sunghoon whose still quiet. his eyes then soften and he sighs, fists relaxing.

“strip for us, doll. its okay, we won’t hurt you.” he says in a calm voice. its still a surprise how he’s acting right now. he’s not the impatient and rough sunghoon. it slightly made you feel at ease.

when your hand slowly raised to untangle your necktie, you heard jake hissed and glared at sunghoon.

“remember what we talked about, hoon!” he said that got you confused.

sunghoon rolls his eyes, “yeah, whatever. i’m just trying to make her feel relax. you’re putting too much pressure on her.”

jake clicked his tongue and glanced back at you. his eyes looked more aggressive, screams more danger.

“why, sweetheart? are we scaring you?” he stepped closer, making you hold your breath.

“am i scaring you?” he repeats his words, his face are inches away from yours that you can feel his hot breath fanning your skin.

“jake,” heeseung calls him.

he ignored him and kept his stares right at your pretty face. despite the lack of answer, the tears on your eyes were enough to tell him that you are indeed scared. it didn’t make him feel pitiful, instead it drives him more crazy.

“strip for me or i’ll rip them off from you myself.” he groans.

you gulped and started to fasten your pace. now unbuttoning your polo— the one heeseung got you.

sunghoon clenched his jaw hardly, fighting so hard to interrupt. his friends talked to him about being the last to touch you tonight as a punishment for him. its actually a shit decision they came up with just because they think he’s starting to be your favorite.

that thought was the only thing that made him agree. he couldn’t help but to feel excited thinking about it.

he stood up that made jay and heeseung glance at his direction.

“don’t get in the way.” jay reminded him.

he threw him a short glance as he fished something from his pocket.

“i’m not going to.” he pulls out a cigarette and a lighter. “i’m going to smoke.” he added then glance at heeseung.

“you won’t mind right?”

heeseung stares for a while before tearing his gaze off of sunghoon. he took that as a yes then lits his cigarette.

“take off everything.” jake commands when you finished getting rid of your polo and school skirt.

“b-but—”

“strip.” he shortly said.

you stared at his eyes and slowly obliged. you don’t even know why you kept complaining when you’ll just end up doing it too.

the moment you finished taking everything off, completely naked in front of them, you feel shy. so shy that you try covering whatever your arms can. the four men stares silently, their eyes grew darker. looked more hungrier.

“lay on the bed for me, sweetheart.” jake mumbles, this time a lot more softer. “i want to eat you.” he added while taking off his necktie.

before jake continues discarding his clothes off, he snakes his hand on your nape to pull you closer to him. he placed a wet, but gentle kiss on your lips then stares right at your eyes.

“you’re so pretty. do you know that?” he says under his breath that made your heart race. he seems pissed, and honestly his attitude today are off for you. he’s very playful in nature, but the way he’s so aggressive is not like him. you know something’s up with jake sim.

“let me fucking eat you.” he added and then continued what he stopped doing to give you a kiss.

your eyes moved towards heeseung and he just gave you a nod. with slow steps you walked towards the bed and sat on the edge.

jake gently pushed your body so you can lay on it then he opened your thighs for him, giving a full display of your slightly wet core. he growls lightly, salivating by the view.

“damn, this pussy.” he mumbles before giving it a long lick making you purse your lips together.

jake almost went crazy having a taste of your cunt. he always loved it. if he can, he will eat you all day. so he didn’t waste a time to dive in and lap your cunt like a hungry animal. you whimper and legs slowly closing out of pleasure from the way he’s eating you.

a hand then reaches over your knee to open them back. when you open your eyes, you saw jay. he’s already standing at the edge of the bed, beside jake. his white t-shirt is off already and he’s left with just his boxers.

“keep them wide open, baby.” he orders while his other hand palms his cock inside his shorts.

you can’t even say a word or resist as your mind gets all fuzzy because of how good jake is making you feel. jake giggles through your cunt making you shut your eyes, brows arching closer to each other.

your face contorts out of pleasure.

jake’s hand rests at your thighs and massages it gently. you can feel a hand carding your hair, brushing it off your pretty face.

your eyes pry open when jake pulls away.

“sorry, angel. we’ll move you a bit so you can suck jay.” heeseung caught your attention. he’s already near the bed too.

when your eyes look at jay, he’s already taking off his boxers as they slightly drag you towards the corner of the bed. jay dives his head and kissed you on your lips while fondling on your exposed tits.

“uhm,” you moaned. he gave it a few more suck then tugs it lightly using his teeth as he pulls away, making you yelp.

“suck my dick, baby. let’s get you busy.” jay mumbles and places his shaft near your face.

jake then continues eating you, making you squirm again. he pushes your thighs wider, doesn’t giving you any chance to close it. he wants to take his time, eating and enjoying how you whimper in pleasure. the way you look pained, but he knew pretty well that he’s making you feel so good.

“how’s the view from there, hoon?” jay shouted, taunting his friend.

your eyes shifted at the sofa while jay enters your mouth. sunghoon’s dark eyes are darted at you while he sexily huffs on his cigarette. its taking everything of him not to get in between. he couldn’t help but feel so aroused by the sight of his own friends using you.

he remained silent and just watch from afar. jay scoffs then narrows his brows when his cock reaches the inside of your mouth. it feels so warm and soft, something that drives him crazy.

“fuck.” he curses and started to thrust on his own liking.

while jake laps your pussy and jay fucks your mouth, heeseung takes off all his clothes. he position himself on your other side then grabs your hand.

“you aren’t forgetting about me now, are you angel?” his taunting voice rings over your head and you mumbled something, causing vibration straight to jay’s throbbing cock.

“oh just like that, baby.” he groans and continues pistoning his hips towards you.

heeseung gave a few strokes to his dick before leaning to give you a kiss on the lips as well. it lasted for a few more seconds until he pulls away so you can give him a hand job.

“oh, yeah. just like that.” heeseung mumbles as he watch you all occupied with them.

he cannot help but to feel very excited at the view. how your eyes are tear stained yet still do as they say. its giving a satisfaction he couldn’t get from anything. he was certain you’re the only one who can give it to him, to them.

jake chuckes and giggles mischievously while tongue buried deep inside your wet hole. his chin wet with your juices and his saliva. it was heaven for him to see you squirm uncontrollably because of pleasure.

“u-ugh!” your mouth hugs jay’s big dick tighter that made him groan in pleasure, your hand too tightens around heeseung’s. it indicates that you are nearing your first release and they all couldn’t wait.

“are you near, baby?” jay asks, whimpering from his own pleasure.

you nodded continuously, slightly losing your mind at the climax you’ve been anticipating.

“i’m near too, baby. let’s cum together.” jay groans and grind even harder, chasing you.

“give it to me, sweetheart.” jake fucks into your cunt using his two fingers, tongue attached on your hole, waiting for that sweet juice he’s been dying for.

heeseung brushes your hairs off from your face, making sure to fist them so it won’t cover your pretty features. he loves staring and watching you whimper in pleasure. beads of sweat forms on your forehead and his eyes travels down your tits boucing slightly due to jake finger fucking you.

he leans and puts your nipple inside his mouth, sucking and twirling his hot tongue on the tip, making you feel dizzy.

“nghhh,” your thighs shakes and tries to move away from jake’s lips but he held you firm, making sure you have nowhere to go. sucking and taking all of your juices.

the sensation making your eyes rolls at the back of your head. jay, too reached his climax and shoot at the depth of your hot mouth, cursing and growling.

“such a good girl.” he says and leans to give you a kiss on your cheeks. “pretty baby.” he added and placed another kiss.

once done harvesting your cum, jake stood up and licks his lips with a grin on his face.

“get on fours. i’ll fuck you doggystyle.” he says and grabs your hand to help you get up from laying down. he knew you’re still in trance from the recent release.

heeseung gently press your palm to catch your attention. he arched his brows while glancing softly at your direction. jay brushes your hair away and wiped off the sweat.

“you good, angel? still with us?” heeseung asks and help you position yourself.

you nod your head once, head still fuzzy. heeseung chuckles, finding you adorable and kisses your shoulder once.

“you’re so hot, sweetheart.” jake and smacks your butt cheeks. you yelp slightly at the impact. it stings a bit but it oddly feels so good.

jake groans and cupped both your butt and leans in to kiss it, biting it.

“calm down, dude.” jay chuckles and swat his arms which he answered with a giggle.

your ears are still ringing from all of that when a hand started to gather your hair. it was sunghoon and he’s looking at you with slight worry in his eyes.

“i’ll just tie your hair, doll.” you nodded and he did his best to put away those lose hairstrands out of your face.

you smiled at him softly and mumbled ‘thank you’, which you doubt he heard. he sighs and leans in to kiss you once on your lips before walking back near jay.

“perfect. suck my dick this time, okay?” heeseung says and positions himself in front of you.

a small nod is what you gave him and he smirks, pinching your cheeks because he find you cute this way. all submissive and sweaty.

“ready? i’m going in.” jake says from behind and heeseung just nods his head.

you moaned the moment you felt jake pushing his dick inside of you, stretching you in the process. his thick veiny cock slowly disappears. just half of it and he’s already going crazy. he missed this feeling. he missed feeling you around him, suffocating and taking all of his length.

“fuck, you’re so tight.” he groans and couldn’t wait anymore as he did a hard thrust, reaching it deep.

your eyes widen at the sudden visitor making your mouth gap as well. heeseung took this chance to enter your mouth and he let out muffled curses because of how hot your lips feels around him. his brows narrowed closer to each other.

“shit.” he curses and take his time rutting his dick over your mouth. he was fighting back not to go too hard as he wants to go slow.

on the other hand, jake’s the opposite. he’s going fast and deep making you see stars. you tried hard to keep on all fours, but you can feel your knees losing its strength, along with your arms.

as jake started to take it faster, making sure he’s hitting every delicious places inside you, heeseung decided to catch pace with him. the room was filled with your moans and the erotic slapping sounds of your bodies colliding each other.

“i’m f-fucking close...” jake hissed and laid his tongue out sexily. heeseung smirks and gets more aggressive on using your mouth to chase his own orgasm.

“me too.” heeseung.

you moaned and tightens your cunt and lips when you felt your own climax approaching. jake’s breath became more heavy at the pleasure your hole is making him feel.

“fuck you feel so good like this, sweetheart.” he groans and slaps your butt then leans down to kiss your back, making sure to suck on the skin to leave a mark. his mark.

“so good for me.” he says, almost out of breath. “so damn good for all of us.”

and a few more deep thrust, jake released his hot cum inside you. heeseung throws his head back, cumming inside your mouth. the three of you are catching your breaths while he both tries to catch your highs. heeseung strokes your cheeks gently.

your knees gaves in and body collided to heeseung’s soft white sheets. jay steps in and made sure you’re all right.

“tired, angel?” heeseung whispered, smiling while looking at your shut eyes and breathing heavily.

jake pulls out, some of his cum dripping out from your hole. he kneels down to see it more clearly and groans at the sight of it. he licks two of his fingers and slides it in your hole, shoving his cum back. it made you jolt and moan, feeling too much.

he chuckles, “you did good for me, sweets.” his eyes a lot more softer than before. he seems to calm down now.

“we’re not done yet.” heeseung mumbles that you responded with a light groan.

he ignored it and laid back at the edge of his bed, feet touching the floor.

“ride me, angel.” he held your arm to guide you over his lap. you needed some help and the other boys were quick to assist you.

“too t-tired..” you manage to say. heeseung placed a chaste kiss at your cheeks.

“its okay, i’ll do the work.” he assures you.

jake smirks meeting eyes with heeseung. he taps jay’s shoulder and tilted his chin towards the two of you.

“let’s do it, jay.” jake says excitedly. “fuck her other hole.” and he trudges towards heeseung’s side drawer.

sunghoon stood up with furrowed brows.

“what the fuck do you mean? we never tried it before.” he steps in. “are you sure she can handle that today?”

jake rolls his eyes and glanced at his friend for a while. he taps his chest and raised the bottle of lube. “yes. i’m sure our girl can handle it.”

“right, sweets?” he asks you.

you are not at the proper state of mind to respond or comprehend what they’re talking about. your mind is too clouded with pleasure and the overstimulation is taking away your capability to understanding anything.

“angel?” heeseung gently calls you.

“hmm?” you hummed.

he chuckles, “jay and i are going to fuck you at the same time. is that okay?”

jokes on them because you can’t even process anything. a nod is all you gave them. sunghoon gulped, a bit nervous but he can’t deny that he’s also looking forward to it. he’s so sure you’ll look so alluring having both your holes filled.

“see? she’s our big girl.” jake smirks and squats down to prep your hole. they don’t really need a lot of the lube as you’re so wet from what jake just did moments ago and because you’re too aroused.

“damn, so tight.” he mumbles after sliding his index finger inside as a test.

jay gulped, totally salivating. he pushes his friend away and positions himself.

“just make sure to take it slow, man.” sunghoon reminded him, now starting to discard his clothes one by one.

“w-what...” you’re slowly going back to your senses, but it was too late.

heeseung slides his cock inside your pussy as jay puts the tip in front of your butt hole. your eyes slightly grow big and worry flashes your pretty face.

“h-huh?” you’re about to look back when jake cups your face. he smiles sweetly and kisses your lips.

“don’t be scared, sweets. we’ll make sure you will feel good, okay?” his gaze too soft and hypnotizing.

its not that you don’t want it. for the past months that you’ve been under these boys, they’ve already corrupted you. behind those innocent looking eyes you flashes them is the dark desire of having them all to yourself.

sunghoon soon came into your view, “it’ll be all right, doll.” he smiles and held your hand.

“here i come, baby.” jay’s low voice ringed from behind you and as he says, he pushes forward.

“ugh,” you groaned, hurting from the fresh stretch.

heeseung starts to slowly fuck from below you, just to ease some of the pain you’re going through.

“i-it hurts...” your eyes starts tearing up.

sunghoon glared at jake. “did you even put enough lube?” he hissed at his friend.

jake caress your cheeks, “i did! its suppose to hurt, sweets. just like the first time when sunghoon took you.” he reminded with a slight bitterness on his tone.

sunghoon ignored his friend comments and focused on comforting you. he leans in and attached his lips on yours, tongue messily dancing with each other.

“fuck, so tight...” jay groaned, eyes shut from the pleasure of being squeezed inside you.

“her cunt is getting more tighter too, jay. keep going.” heeseung’s brows are narrowed from pleasure.

the sting is still there, but it became more tolerable as heeseung dicks you from below and sunghoon making out with you. eventually, they’re sliding in and out smoothly.

“oh m-my gosh..” your eyes rolled at the back of your head from the intense pleasure you are having.

you cannot describe it. the way their big dicks are drilling you are making you crazy, feels like heaven.

“fuck.” jay and heeseung cursed hardly as they fuck you in sync.

jake salivates just by watching you getting used by them. you look beautiful. you look so hot. and you are his. you belong to them.

“i’m getting close, hyung.” jay growls and kept on rutting his cock inside you.

“me too.” heeseung leans and capture your breast to suck it.

“so good for us. such a good girl.” jay mumbles.

sunghoon pulls away to watch. “fuck.”

“you’re so good, sweetheart.” jake whispers beside your face. you smiles and moans, trying to keep your eyes open to look at him.

your free hand reaches over his handsome face and cares it, “k-kiss me, jake.” his eyes darken and without hesitation he gaves in to your request.

a few moments, jay and heeseung came inside your holes together with you. both of your legs shakes and body collapsing on top of heeseung, panting so hard.

heeseung breaths in, taking your sweet scent. he pulls your face closer to make out as he kept sliding his dick inside, fucking his cum back.

your eyes already closed and almost passing out. he kisses your cheeks and smiles.

“just one more, angel. can you do it for us?” he asks gently.

you nodded your head and he smiles, “good girl.”

sunghoon helps you to get off from heeseung so he can replace him. jake made sure you’re stable enough as you straddle his lap. jay squats to clean you as his, heeseung’s and jake’s cum drips all over the place.

“hey,” sunghoon calls softly and cups both of your cheeks. he tries to search for your eyes.

“just one more, doll.”

you nodded your head, “p-please.”

“please what, pretty?”

“please make me feel g-good.” you look drunk on lust because you’re starting to sound demanding.

the boys chuckles, finding you adorable this way. sunghoon smiles, relieved that you seem to be fine. just exhausted.

“definitely, love.” he whispers. “that’s what we’re all here for, doll. to make you feel good.” and he kissed your cheeks.

jake leans in and kisses your shoulderblades. “i’ll fuck you too, sweets. okay?”

you nodded your head and props your head asking for a kiss. he chuckles and gave in, dropping a quick peck on your swollen lips.

“hold on tight on sunghoon, hmm?” heeseung’s back beside you.

you nodded and placed both of your hands on sunghoon’s broad shoulders. jay went inside the bathroom to start running a warm bath for you.

“i’ll enter now.” sunghoon says and slides inside your pussy.

both of you moaned. jake’s eyes darken as he position himself behind you, his aching tip dying to enter your other hole.

“here i come, sweets.” and smoothly slides in as well. the three of you are a moaning mess.

your mind all blank and you’re starting to see stars already. the two of them fucked you rough and fast, not giving any mercy. the way they rutt their dicks are different from how they console you moments ago. they went fast, like they’re chasing something.

“fuck, pussy so good.” sunghoon moans and kisses your shoulders, he opens his mouth then buries his fangs on your skin. oddly, it added to the pleasure.

“oh shit... so good sweetheart.” jake’s brows draws closer to each other as he focuses on the view of his cock sliding inside your butt hole. it was so hot. the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

it went for a few more minutes. your moans and the skin slapping each other echoes through the whole room. it was so good. so damn good that you almost pass out due to too much pleasure and tiredness.

“i’m cumming.” sunghoon was the first one to announce.

“me too, dude!” jake and he reaches over your clit to rub it.

“nnghh,” you moaned, unable to even utter a single word anymore.

“she’s choking me inside. she’s close, jake. fuck faster.” sunghoon hissed and the two of them did it.

a few more seconds and they shoot their hot cums inside. jake’s panting so hard, so is sunghoon. you completely fall over sunghoon’s body, eyes close shut.

“doll?” sunghoon calls out between his heavy breaths.

you didn’t respond so he slightly pulls away to check on you. he saw you’re already pass out so he smiled and kisses your cheeks gently.

“you did good, doll.” he whispers.

jake pulls out and before cleaning himself, he grabbed the towel from jay and cleaned you. he leans over your face to kiss you softly with a warm smile on his face. “you did so well, sweets.”

jay brushes away some hairs that sticked onto your pretty face, “thank you, baby. you did so well.” he whispers.

sunghoon helped putting you over heeseung’s arms and he walks inside the bathroom where the warm bath is waiting for you.

you groaned, “we’ll just clean you before you rest, angel.” he assured and gently placed you at the bathtub.

you can feel your whole body aching, mind still fuzzy after all you did. despite everything, one question plays inside your mind.

‘what are you for them?’

tricky one too. you’re dying to know, but at the same time you’re scared to find out. most of the times they are mean to you, makes you feel like their toy. but after how they acted moments ago, it raised confusion. a slight hope that they indeed care for you as much as you care for them ignites inside you.

you tried shoving that thought off. you’re too tired. maybe you’ll ask them later. for now, you’re going to rest because they surely pushed you to your limit.

heeseung stares at your pretty face then smiles and caress your cheeks, “you did so well for us, angel.” and kisses you once on your lips.

tag-list:

@shawnyle @baekxo07 @parksunghoonsgf @skzenhalove @shanb1n @kaykay11sworld @starfallia @blank-velvet @nctislifue @avaleyshin @kpopslays @jooniesbears-blog

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 6 (part two)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.1k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! suggestive moments, mature readers only please!

You and Carter didn’t fight, it just didn’t happen.

Like any sisters, you got on each other’s nerves, you disagreed on things, you borrowed each other’s clothes without asking - but you didn’t fight. 

Growing up, your parents fought all the time. You and Carter would sit in her bedroom and listen to music, talking and laughing and pretending not to hear. Ever since then, you had a silent agreement; you didn’t fight and you never raised your voices at each other.

The problem with this system was that you were never quite sure when she was upset with you. Your stomach churned the whole rest of your shower, as she stood uncharacteristically quiet at the bathroom sink and did her makeup.

Maybe she hadn’t heard you, or maybe she had just hated your words so much that she couldn’t even respond to them. You knew she wouldn’t like it when you admitted that you’d be with Rafe if he asked you, but pretending it had never been said seemed particularly childish. 

A little while later, you sat on a stool in front of the bathroom mirror as she did your hair and makeup. You found your eyes continually drifting up to her, searching for any sign of anger. When a full half-an-hour passed and she still hadn’t responded to your comments about Rafe, you broke down and asked, “are you mad at me?”

“For what?” She scrunched her eyebrows.

“For what I said in the shower,” you wrung your hands in your lap, not sure you wanted the answer.

“Bitch, you know I have the short term memory of an ant, you’re gonna have to give me more to work with.”

You laughed at her bluntness, the lightheartedness of her words relaxing you enough to face your fear.

“What I said about Rafe,” you said. “That I’d be with him if he asked me to.”

She paused her work on your hair, setting the brush down and meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“When did you say that?” She twisted her lips.

“When you came back in, while I was in the shower.”

She shook her head, “must’ve been talking to someone else because I’ve definitely never heard you say that. I feel like I would’ve remembered something so insane.”

You looked down at your hands in your lap, playing the whole thing back in your mind. You had definitely heard someone come in, the door squeaking at their arrival. That means someone else in the house was walking around with your deepest secret. And now Carter knew it too.

“Oh,” you said. “Never mind then.”

“Yeah right, you really think I’m just gonna move on from that?” Carter put her hands on her hips.

“We could just pretend I never said anything,” you shrugged.

“Yes you know me,” Carter rolled her eyes, “I’m famous for letting things go and being super chill when I hear someone say something batshit crazy.”

You sighed, “okay fine, but what you didn’t hear was me following the statement up by saying I know I shouldn’t be with him ‘cause I’d probably hate myself the whole time.”

Carter started working on your hair again, her contorted face betraying her attempt to act casual.

“Please just say whatever you’re thinking,” you urged her.

“I don’t want to tell you what to do,” she replied.

You snorted, “since when?”

“I just, like, ugh,” she dropped her head back in frustration. “Why him? Like I’ve never understood. What is it about him?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I’ve never really known. He’s just…”

“Arrogant, selfish, a bully…” she finished your sentence for you.

“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head.  

“Just be careful, okay?” She placed her hands on your shoulders, meeting your eye in the mirror. “I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“I know,” you nodded. “I will be.”

“If Rafe Cameron has zero haters then I am dead,” she concluded.

“I know that too,” you smiled.

Carter leaned past you to collect a couple bobby pins from the bathroom sink, her shirt slipping slightly off her shoulder and revealing a patch of deep purple marks.

“Oh my god,” you squealed. “Are those hickies?!”

She dragged her shirt back over her shoulder defensively.

“No! I fell!”

“Uh-huh, right onto Topper’s mouth apparently!” You poked her side, teasing her.

“Shut up,” she smiled and you cackled. 

After that, the Rafe conversation was dropped as you pressed Carter for more details on her hook up with Topper. She tried to play cool, but you could tell there was something more going on under the surface that she didn’t want to say. You decided to be patient, if she was going to finally come to terms with her feelings for him, she was going to do it all on her own.

When she was finally done with your hair and makeup, you inspected yourself in the mirror. 

“Baddie,” she winked at you.

You blushed, “alright let’s go, the boys are probably waiting.”

Carter stood back and crossed her arms, giving you an incredulous look.

“What?” You questioned.

“You’re not wearing that.”

You looked down at your outfit, a crop top, black jeans, and boots. You thought it was a perfectly acceptable clubbing outfit, but Carter clearly disagreed.

“Why not?”

“We’re going out to, like, clubs. In downtown Miami. You gotta stunt on ‘em a little bit,” she argued.

“I am! Look how tight these jeans are,” you did a spin to display your point.

“Good thing I brought the perfect dress in your size for just such an occasion,” she ignored you.

“Oh okay so this was a premeditated makeover?” You smiled.

She ran down the hall to her room and returned with a lacy, red minidress. Knowing you’d lose any argument you posed, you changed into it reluctantly. The corset top hugged your waist, pushing your chest up. Your shoulders slumped instinctually, like you could hide away in yourself. You’d come a long way on your self-love journey, but your self-doubt still crept in from time to time. 

As per usual, Carter sensed it right away.

“Shoulders back, head up,” Carter reminded you. “Let ‘em know.”

You took a deep breath, nodding in the mirror, choosing to leave your insecurities behind. You’d borrow her faith in you for just one night.

As Carter, Maddie and Sabrina did their final touch ups and compared outfits, you pulled on your heels and headed downstairs. The other girls didn’t seem concerned with punctuality, but you were sure Topper was probably freaking out about how long they were taking.

It wasn’t Topper you found in the kitchen, though. 

Rafe stood at the sink with his back to you, his black button up pulled taught over his defined back muscles as he stared off into space and the cup in his hand overflowed.

You smiled, holding your shoulders back as Carter had taught you, bracing for him to see you in this dress.

“Thirsty?”

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He felt his resolve break with the rest of his brain, dizzy and drowning in the sight of you. He had the ridiculous urge to shield his eyes, like he was hiding them from the sun, your beauty too overwhelming to gaze directly at.

He set the glass down on the counter, drying his hands with a nearby towel, never once breaking eye contact with you.

Licking his lips quickly, he shamelessly let his eyes drag over your bare legs and up your body, knowing full well you could see him take in every inch of you. He didn’t care, he needed you to understand what you were doing to him.

When his eyes finally landed on yours, he clenched his jaw tight, nostrils flaring with his rising pulse. He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes, telling you silently: you’re killing me.

“You like it?” You whispered, running your hands over the lacy fabric.

Rafe opened his mouth to answer, planning something along the lines of “do I like it? Are you fucking kidding me?” but before he could, the rest of the girls came clamorring down the stairs behind you, stealing the moment. 

At the sound of clicking heels and giggles, the rest of the boys came filing into the room.

Rafe gave you one more longing look before handing Kelce the glass of water. Kelce tried to protest, but Rafe shoved it in his hands anyway.

“We’re not leaving ‘til you drink it,” Rafe scolded him.

“Taking over Topper’s mom duties?” Maddie laughed at the exchange.

“No, Rafe’s much more dad vibes,” Carter countered.

“Yes and mom and dad will be pissed if our Ubers leave, so let’s go children,” Topper herded the group toward the front door. 

Rafe took the now empty glass from Kelce and left it in the sink, and you lingered back for a second, pretending to fix your shoe so you’d both end up at the back of the pack. He watched as you bent down and fiddled with the slingback, hovering close when you stood.

“Nice dress,” he mumbled down to you.

“You think so?” You twisted your lips to keep from beaming at him, trying to maintain some semblance of nonchalance.

“There’s not much of it,” he teased, scratching the back of his head as he looked down over the lacy fabric. “But yeah, it’s nice.”

“You gonna give me the ‘you’re not leaving the house in that, young lady’ treatment?” You pressed him. “You really are like the dad.”

“Why? Would you change if I told you to?” He asked skeptically.

“Not a fucking chance,” you scoffed, swinging your hips as you spun and made for the front door.

He was really planning on staying away from you? What a fucking joke. He followed you out of the house like you had him on a leash. He was in for a long night.

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It took all of five minutes for Carter to grab Topper’s hand and pull him to the corner of the club, and it took even less time for their close talking to become a full on makeout.

You smirked at them as you ordered another drink, knowing you’d need something to help you get through this evening if Carter wasn’t going to be by your side. You could feel Tom’s eyes on you as he approached from the other side of the bar.

The whole Uber here, Tom had been eyeing you in the rear view mirror from the front seat. The only stare that made you more uncomfortable was Sabrina’s. It couldn’t be more clear that she’d grown attached to him on their jet ski ride, laughing loud at his unfunny jokes and hovering in his vicinity all night. You had unwittingly fallen into a love triangle you wanted nothing to do with.

You could feel his attempt to hit on you before he even spoke.

“Put her drink on my tab,” Tom told the bartender. 

“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” you said, not wanting to give him any openings.

“Not a problem,” he said. “I know I’ve been kind of a jerk today, the least I can do is buy you a drink to say sorry.”

The bartender handed you the glass, and you immediately took a sip, fiddling with the straw uncomfortably.

“Sorry for what?” You feigned ignorance.

“Last night, I didn’t mean to make you feel weird,” he said, stepping closer to you. He clearly couldn’t see the irony that he was apologizing for making you feel weird while actively making you feel weird. “I just think you’re really cool and I wanted to get to know you better.”

He was crowding your space now, the scent of his heavy cologne choking your senses. Just a few days ago, you found the same smell enticing, but now, there was only one person you wanted standing this close.

Your eyes flicked over Tom’s shoulder, scanning the crowd for him. You found him leaning against the wall, Kelce talking to him emphatically about something you couldn’t hear. You didn’t have to get his attention, his eyes were already on you. Tight lipped smile, you flicked your eyes between him and Tom, trying to communicate your need for his assistance.

Rafe didn’t need anything more to understand what you were asking, tuned in to your every move and sensing your need for him before you even caught his eye. He pushed off the wall and left Kelce talking to no one so he could shove his way through the crowd. Taller than almost everyone, you tracked him the whole way through the sea of people. Tom seemed none the wiser, continuing hitting on you.

“Maybe we could get out of here,” Tom suggested, leaning in a little too close so you could hear him over the music.

“Nah, not tonight bro.” 

Rafe appeared by your side just in time, forcing Tom to take a step back as he draped his arm over your shoulders possessively. Tom’s eyes flew between the two of you as you reached up to the hand on your shoulder and threaded your fingers with Rafe’s. Relief swelled through your body as Tom stepped back. You leaned into Rafe’s hold more, wrapping your arm around his waist and giving him a grateful squeeze. You knew he felt it when you saw his mouth perk up at the corners. But he didn’t take his eyes off Tom, his work here unfinished.

“Since when are you two together?” Tom puzzled defensively.

“Look man, why don’t you go find, uh, Sabrina,” Rafe waved him off. “Or literally any other girl here.”

As if Rafe’s suggestion had summoned her, Sabrina appeared at Tom’s side.

“Oh my god,” she slurred, eyes red and glossy with intoxication. “Are y’all a thing now? Girl, I never thought you’d actually do it. Good for you!”

It had the cadence of women supporting women, but the undertone was clear. You didn’t miss the disbelief in her tone, subtly trying to cut you down while appearing to lift you up. If Carter was here, she’d bitch her out. But you didn’t need saving from this one.

You tightened your hold on Rafe’s hand, swinging his arm from around your shoulders but not letting go. You pulled him away from Tom and Sabrina, leading him deep into the crowd on the dancefloor. 

Before he had the chance to ask what you were doing, you placed his hands on your waist, spinning in his grasp until your back was flush with his chest and moving to the music. He made no protest, squeezing you between his hands and swaying along with you. Tom and Sabrina watched from across the room, his jaw clenched and her arms crossed.

After a few minutes, both sets of eyes eventually left you, but you didn’t notice, and you didn’t stop. It wasn’t for show anymore. You closed your eyes as you continued to let the music move you. Rafe’s strong arms on either side of you, your brain flashed images of his half naked body in the kitchen and how he kneeled in front of you in the basement. The same fingertips that had so gently caressed your calf were now burrowing into the soft flesh of your hips. One of your arms stretched up, your palm finding the back of his neck, kneading his skin as you clung to him.

When you looked up to meet his eyes, they were ablaze with pure lust. Your lips parted to tell him you felt it too, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Instead you showed him, your body moving through the music like water. The bass pumped through your chest, tangling with your thumping heart beat until you couldn’t tell which was which. 

Rafe held you tight against him, like if he let you go you might slip under the waves again. His head sank low, until the tip of his nose was grazing just over the curve of your neck. He was hardly moving, not so much dancing as swaying, letting you do the work his eyes drank in every inch of your body.

With a precise roll of your hips, you pushed against him, and you nearly gasped at the feeling of something hard and demanding pressing into your hip. Your lips twisted with the sweetest satisfaction.

“Thought you were trying to be a gentleman,” you said over the music.

“I was,” he brought his lips to your ear so you could hear him. “But you’re making it too fucking hard.”

Smirking, you twisted in his arms until you were facing each other. You both caught the accidental euphemism and met eyes, breaking into matching laughter.

“You know what I mean,” he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think I do,” you teased with a quirked eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

His smile fell, as did his hands, lowering from your waist to your hips. You reached both arms up, wrapping around his neck and lacing your fingers behind him. 

His eyes swept over your face as he whispered, “you look so-”

“Cute?” 

You meant it in jest, but he didn’t laugh. His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched as he took you in, serious as hell when he said,

“So fucking beautiful.”

You shuddered in his arms, and he ran his hand down your exposed back, tracing his fingers delicately over your spine.

“Been driving me crazy since I saw you on the beach,” he continued.

His hand kept falling lower, though it slowed as it reached your lower back, asking for permission with his hesitancy. Your body arched into him without even thinking about it. His palm glided over your ass, the soft fabric of your dress and your plush flesh beneath it pulling an involuntary groan from him. He went lower still, slotting his fingers in the crease where your ass meets your thigh, lingering, setting up camp like he’d stay there all night if you let him. He found the spot so deliberately that you knew he’d been thinking about it for days. 

You waited with baited breath, your silence inviting him to keep talking. 

All he said next was your name. It was low and needy, like a request, or maybe a warning. Flames erupted in your stomach and sent a hot blush sweeping across your body.

“Do you…” your throat tightened with vulnerability, “do you want to go somewhere?”

Yes, Rafe thought, anywhere, for any amount of time.

But there was a small voice in the back of his head giving him pause. Your voice, earlier today in the shower, when you thought you were talking to someone else.

“I don’t want you to hate yourself,” he shook his head, sad eyes falling from your face to his shoes.

You tilted your head as you examined him, unsure for a moment what he meant. Then it clicked, realizing those were your words on his lips. He was the one who heard you in the bathroom. You fought the temptation to run away in embarrassment when you remembered what else he must’ve heard. 

After all you’d admitted to, the piece he was clearly holding onto was the only part you didn’t actually mean. You had added the detail about hating yourself when you thought you were talking to Carter and that she was upset with you.

It was too much to explain to him there on the crowded dance floor. You slipped your hand into his and pulled him from the crowd, out a side door and into the alleyway.

Once outside, you tucked your hair behind your ears and looked down anxiously at your feet. The loss of the music and the sobering night air weakened the boldness you had mustered inside.

“When you said we should go somewhere I wasn’t picturing so much garbage,” Rafe motioned towards the nearby dumpster. 

You laughed, his playful words successfully easing your nerves. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself why you’d brought him out here.

“You heard me, didn’t you? In the shower?” 

“I’m sorry,” he blushed, caught red handed. “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything. But…yeah.”

“I didn’t mean it,” you told him.

Hurt flashed in his eyes for just a second, before he nodded and squared his shoulders to cover it up.

“Got it,” he shrugged.

“No, I mean, the hating myself part,” you clarified. 

“So the other stuff…?” He was quick to follow up.

The door for you to finally tell him how you felt was wide open in front of you, but you weren’t sure if you could walk through it. The words you’d been holding back your whole life sat on the tip of your tongue, but refused to pass your lips. You looked at him helplessly.

“I can’t,” you shook your head.

Rafe sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“What? You can’t what?” 

Your mouth fell open in disbelief, incensed that he was the one with an attitude here.

“You know what?” You said, hands on your hips. “I don’t think you have a lot of room to be snapping at me, Rafe. Not after everything you’ve done.”

“Everything I’ve done?” He huffed. “Please, tell me what I did that’s so terrible?”

“Seriously? High school wasn’t that long ago, Rafe.”

“Look I know I was a dick, okay?” He stepped forward, voice softening a bit with his apology. “And maybe you’ll never forgive me. But all that shit? That guy? That’s in the past, and I don’t want to talk about the past anymore, I just wanna be with you now.”

“I don’t know, Rafe,” you shook your head sadly. “I don’t know if I can just pretend none of that happened.”

“How long then?” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Tell me how long I’m gonna be paying for some shit I did when I was seventeen so I at least have an idea, please. Give me a date so I can plan for it.”

“Let’s see, Rafe, I wanted you for twelve years, you’ve wanted me for like two days. Does that seem even to you?”

Your words struck him, the anger in his eyes dissolving, replaced with tenderness. He stepped towards you tentatively, ducking just a bit to better read your face. 

“You really think I’ve only wanted you for two days?” He mumbled softly. “Baby…”

It was the second time he’d called you that today. You were in too much pain when he said it after you fell off the jet ski, but your brain had tucked it away subconsciously to revisit when you felt better. He’d called you baby before, when you were in high school. It had always given you butterflies, and you never called attention to it, afraid he’d stop if he realized how much it meant to you.

Since then, you’d reframed the memories to convince yourself that he never actually meant it, that it was some kind of manipulation tactic. But the way it rolled so naturally off his tongue earlier, and the way he’d breathed it so desperately now, made you reconsider.

“Please don’t call me that,” you pleaded. “Not if you don’t mean it.”

Rafe just blinked back at you, not an ounce of deception in his voice when he said, “I’ve always meant it.”

His confession pinched your heart, the whole story rewriting itself in your mind. For the first time ever, you let yourself actually believe that he cared for you, that he’d always cared for you. To anyone else who knew the whole story, it might seem unlikely, but seeing the look in his eyes right now, you had never been so sure of anything in your life.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him, your deep longing for him stronger than ever. He felt it too, you could tell by the way he drew closer, his body lining up with yours, eyes locked to your lips.

With the most tenderness you’ve ever encountered, he reached his hand up, the pad of his thumb landing on your bottom lip and pulling it gently from between your teeth, undoing you.

“Rafe…” you whispered, a plea and a question, as his lips ghosted over yours.

“Can I?” He breathed. “Please?”

You nodded, never meaning anything more than when you told him “yes.”

(chapter 7)

a/n: chat what do we think? are we forgiving him? only 3 chapters to goooo. Also I wrote “shoulders back. head up. let ‘em know.” on my bathroom mirror as my new morning mantra 💘

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[captainfantasticalright]

In 1985, one of the only persons interested in an interview with a “new” writer called Terry Pratchett, after his publication of the Colour of Magic, was one Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman was writing for Space Voyager at the time. "The Colour of Pratchett" was the name given here:

It ran exactly one page inside the June/July issue of that year. The interview took place in a Chinese restaurant in London.

Here is Neil many years later holding that issue. You can see it here if you want. Warning: extremely emotional video.

Neil arrived wearing a grey homburg hat. “Sort of like the ones Humphrey Bogart wears in movies” he later wrote. (Before saying that in fact he did not look like him, but like someone wearing a grown-up’s hat). Terry Pratchett, photo courtesy of one @neil-gaiman, was in a Lenin-style leather cap and a harlequin-patterned pullover. At this point, Terry was already a hat person, although not that hat.

Terry offered Neil this : "An interview needn't last more than 15 minutes. A good quote for the beginning, a good quote for the end, and the rest you make up back at the office"*. (Terry Pratchett had worked many years in journalism by this point ).

But the meeting went terribly well. The two of them realized they had "the same sort of brains". So well indeed, that in 1985, Neil had shown Terry a file containing 5282 words, exploring a scenario in which Richmal Crompton's William Brown had somehow become the Antichrist. Was a collaboration in the cards as of that moment? Not really. But Terry found in Neil someone to whom he could send disks of work in progress and to whom he could pick up the phone sometimes when he hit a brick in the road of his writing.

Terry loved it and the concept stayed in his mind. A couple of years later, he rang Neil to ask him if he had done any more work on it. Neil had been busy with The Sandman, he had not really given it another thought. Terry said, "Well I know what happens next, so either you sell me the idea or we can write it together". **

On collaborating together:

Here is a video of Sir Terry saying why he chose to collaborate with Neil, another video talking about the technical difficulties of writing a book when the two of them where miles apart ,and some pages from Interzone Magazine Issue 207 published December 2006:

An Interview with Sir Terry Pratchett and his works- and Neil Gaiman, where he shortly addresses the process of writing Good Omens.

Terry shortly mentions,

“Neil doesn't rule out another book with me and he was good to write with...yep, it could happen. With anyone else? I don't know, but probably not.?”

Neil says,

"Terry took that initial 5,000 words of mine and ran it through the computer (because I’d lost the files in a computer crash) and made it the first 10,000 words, and it was definitely Good Omens at that point. Neither one thing nor the other, but a third thing.”

"I think Terry could do a very good impersonation of me if he needed to, and I could do a very good impersonation of him; so we knew the area of the Venn diagram in which we were working. But mostly the book found its own voice very quickly. It helped that we were both scarred by the William books when we were kids...”

And as you know, unless you’ve been living in Alpha Centauri, the rest is history. That was the beginning of what would become William the Antichrist and later would get the name Good Omens:The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. (Title provided by Neil Gaiman and subtitle by Terry Pratchett).

More about the writing process:

Terry took the first 5,000 words and typed them into his word processor, and by the time he had finished they were the first 10,000 words. Terry had borrowed all the things about me that he thought were amusing, like my tendency back then to wear sunglasses even when it wasn't sunny, and given them, along with a vintage Bentley, to Crawleigh, who had now become Crowley. The Satanic Nurses were Satanic Nuns.

The book was under way.

We wrote the first draft in about nine weeks. Nine weeks of gloriously long phone calls, in which we would read each other what we'd written, and try to make the other one laugh. We'd plot, delightedly, and then hurry off the phone, determined to get to the next good bit before the other one could. We'd rewrite each other, footnote each other's pages, sometimes even footnote each other's footnotes. We would throw characters in, hand them off when we got stuck. We finished the book and decided we would only tell people a little about the writing process - we would tell them that Agnes Nutter was Terry's, and the Four Horsemen (and the Other Four Motorcyclists) were mine.

From the introduction to William the Antichrist:

“In the summer of 1987 several odd ideas came together: (..)I found myself imagining a book called William the Antichrist, in which a hapless demon was going to be responsible for swapping the wrong baby over, and the son of the US Ambassador would be completely undemonic, while William Brown would grow up to be the Antichrist, and the demon would need to stop him ending the world. The unfortunate demon, whom I called Crawleigh, because Crawley was a nearby town with an unfortunate name, would have to sort it all out as best he could.

It felt like a story with legs.

Terry took the 5,000 words, and rewrote them, calling me to tell me what he was doing and what he was planning to do. The biggest thing he was going to do, he told me, was split the hapless demon into two characters – a would-be-cool demon in dark glasses (which was, I think, Terry’s way of making fun of me, a never-actually- cool journalist in dark glasses) who had renamed himself Crowley, and a rare-book dealer and angel called Aziraphale, who would embody all the English awkwardness that either of us could conceive.”

William the Antichrist being a direct inspiration of the 1976 film The Omen. If the baby swap had just been a little bit messier and the kid had gone off somewhere else he would have grown up as somebody else. “And then there was a beat and I thought, I should write it, it will be called William the Antichrist” says Neil. ***

“The first draft of Good Omens was a William-book. It was absolutely in every way it could be a William book. It had Violet Elizabeth Bott, it had William and the Outlaws, it had Mr. Brown”.

Over time they realized that they would have more creative freedom if they in their own words filed off the serial numbers. William and the Outlaws becoming Adam and the Them.

But the spirit of Just William was never far away.

The joy for Neil was to construct “perfectly William sentences”. The one when Anathema tells Adam that she has lost the Book, and he tells her that he has written a book about a pirate who became a famous detective and it is 8 pages long… that’s “a William sentence”.

If you want to read more details about William The Antichrist, here are some slides I made.

Good Omens was also inspired by a particularly antisemitic moment in The Jew of Malta and John le Carre's spy novels. (Neil’s ask)

 Then I was reading The Jew of Malta by Kit Marlowe, and it has a bit where the three (cartoonishly evil) Jews compare notes on all the well-poisoning and suchlike they’d done that day, and as a Jew who never quite gets his act together, it occurred to me that if I were the third Jew I’d just be apologizing for having failed to poison a well… And suddenly I had the opening of a book. It would be called William the Antichrist. And it would begin with three Demons in a graveyard… (x).

“When we finished the book we estimated that the words were 60% Terry’s and 40% mine, and the plot, such as it was, was entirely ours.” -Neil Gaiman

"Neil and I had known each other since early 1985. Doing it was our idea, not a publisher's deal." "I think this is an honest account of the process of writing Good Omens. It was fairly easy to keep track of because of the way we sent discs to one another, and because I was Keeper of the Official Master Copy I can say that I wrote a bit over two thirds of Good Omens. However, we were on the phone to each other every day, at least once. If you have an idea during a brainstorming session with another guy, whose idea is it? One guy goes and writes 2,000 words after thirty minutes on the phone, what exactly is the process that's happening? I did most of the physical writing because: 1) I had to. Neil had to keep Sandman going -- I could take time off from the DW; 2) One person has to be overall editor, and do all the stitching and filling and slicing and, as I've said before, it was me by agreement -- if it had been a graphic novel, it would have been Neil taking the chair for exactly the same reasons it was me for a novel; 3) I'm a selfish bastard and tried to write ahead to get to the good bits before Neil. Initially, I did most of Adam and the Them and Neil did most of the Four Horsemen, and everything else kind of got done by whoever -- by the end, large sections were being done by a composite creature called Terryandneil, whoever was actually hitting the keys. By agreement, I am allowed to say that Agnes Nutter, her life and death, was completely and utterly mine. And Neil proudly claims responsibility for the maggots. Neil's had a major influence on the opening scenes, me on the ending. In the end, it was this book done by two guys, who shared the money equally and did it for fun and wouldn't do it again for a big clock." "Yes, the maggot reversal was by me, with a gun to Neil's head (although he understood the reasons, it's just that he likes maggots). There couldn't be blood on Adam's hands, even blood spilled by third parties. No-one should die because he was alive." -("Terry Pratchett : His World”)

(Here are some slides of mine where I go into some other details concerning the origins of Good Omens).

Another wonderful insight with Rob Wilkins in "The Worlds of Terry Pratchett".

*Quote: from Terry Pratchett A Life With Footnotes by Rob Wilkins, but said by Terry of course.

** All the quotes, facts listed here : see above.

***all other quotes by Neil Gaiman from various interviews and asks I’ll link.

[bueckets]

The Hit List | Part 1

Pairing: fuckgirl!Paige x Mechi Student!reader

Genre: romance (eventually), slow burn, enemies to lovers, kinda funny?, smut (eventually), cat n mouse

Description: When an overworked engineering student's late-night CAD project gets interrupted by a very drunk, very lost basketball star stumbling into the wrong dorm room, she learns that some defensive plays work better in love than on the court.

What starts as a case of mistaken identity turns into an unexpected game of cat and mouse when UConn's golden girl, Paige Bueckers, can't seem to take a hint– or maybe just doesn't want to. Armed with nothing but sarcasm, an overprotective stuffed bear named Mr. Gummy, and a borrowed team jacket that definitely isn't helping the situation, our engineering hero finds herself drawing up plays to defend her heart against college basketball's most persistent point guard.

They say offense wins games, but defense wins championships. When you're trying not to fall for a girl who treats the court like her kingdom and your personal space like a suggestion, maybe it's time to admit some battles aren't meant to be won.

WC: 11.2k

Authors Notes: i had first written this for jkxreader on my other blog (whoretan) however plot deviates heavily after the first encounter, um, kinda fuck girly paige, but kind of just a love drunk idiot too

Chapter 1: The Unexpected Guest

Your eyes burned as you stared at the CAD model rotating on your screen, the internal combustion engine you'd been working on for the past—what was it now, eight hours?—still refusing to cooperate.

The familiar workspace of SOLIDWORKS had become both your best friend and worst enemy over the past three years at UConn, but tonight it felt particularly vindictive. You'd been trying to get the timing belt assembly to properly mate with the crankshaft for what felt like an eternity, and your deadline was creeping closer by the minute.

"Did you hear?" Riven's voice cut through your concentration as she burst through the door, her designer backpack hitting her bed with enough force to make your desk lamp wobble.

"Hear what?" You didn't bother turning around, instead zooming in on the problematic area of your model. The project was due in six hours, and you were nowhere near having it stress-tested. Sleep was starting to feel like a distant memory from another life.

Riven paused in her tracks—you could practically hear her jaw dropping in that dramatic way she'd perfected since freshman year. "Paige Bueckers was talking about how Q’s jump shot is worse than a middle schooler's."

The absurdity of the statement finally forced you to tear your eyes away from the screen. Your neck cracked in protest as you turned to face your roommate, who stood there with her perfectly manicured hands on her hips, waiting for your reaction. Three years of living together had taught you that Riven wouldn't let you focus until you properly acknowledged whatever piece of gossip she'd brought home.

“That’s literally ridiculous.”

Riven tilted her head, eyes rolling toward the ceiling in that characteristic way of hers. Six seconds of contemplation later (you’d learned to count), she shrugged and pulled out her iPhone, probably to text the women's basketball group chat about the latest drama.

Your roommate, much like all the other Huskies superfans, didn't care whose reputation a particular player tarnished. She'd much rather get on their good side, damaged reputations or not. It was a dance you'd watched play out countless times since freshman year, when you'd first been assigned as roommates.

Back then, you'd thought the random housing assignment would be a disaster—the sports-obsessed sorority girl and the robotics team president seemed like a recipe for mutual hatred. But somehow, your differences had created a strange balance. She dragged you out of your engineering cave occasionally, and you reminded her that there was more to college than chasing after basketball stars.

"Caitlin bought Kate those new custom Nikes." Riven thrust her phone in your face, revealing a photo of Clark's teammate happily posing with pristine white sneakers. The caption read, 'Thanks for the gift bb, @CaitlinClark22'.

You squinted at the screen, trying not to think about how those shoes probably cost more than your entire semester's textbooks. The basketball elite weren't just known for their court skills—their NIL deals were equally legendary. Every starter came from successful programs, the kind that built training facilities and had courts named after their alumni.

"What a lucky bitch," Riven sighed, flopping onto her bed.

Apparently, your roommate wasn't the only one who didn't care for her reputation. Last week, she'd blown up your phone with about thirty—maybe sixty—texts about how her sorority sister had seen Caitlin making out with someone else at The Tavern. Looks like those custom Nikes must've been an apology.

You looked up at your starstruck roommate with pursed lips. Riven caught your expression and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, she's being messy. So what? Those shoes are like two thousand dollars with the custom work, that's my fucking meal plan right there."

"Remind me again how you're a neurology student?"

Riven clutched her chest with an open hand, gasping dramatically. "Wow. I see how it is." She threw herself backward onto her bed with the theatrical flair of a soap opera star.

You couldn't help but grin, even as your eyes darted back to your computer screen. The smile quickly died on your lips.

Oh fuck.

The CAD model still sat there, mocking you with its incomplete state. You'd managed to complete maybe forty percent of the assembly, and the entire thing needed to be fully rigged and stress-analyzed by nine AM.

This was the cost of your procrastination, another dinner sacrificed to the gods of engineering deadlines. At least you had a good excuse this time: you'd spent the weekend helping the robotics team prepare for their upcoming competition. Being vice president meant putting in the extra hours, even if it meant cramming your actual coursework into impossible timeframes.

"I have to finish this tonight. Do not bother me with any more basketball drama." You spun your chair back to face your screen, not bothering to check if Riven was sticking her tongue out at you. You could picture it anyway, she had the maturity of a twelve-year-old sometimes.

Five and a half hours later, you finally pressed the glorious 'Submit' button on Blackboard. You turned off your PC with such violence that the desktop nearly toppled over.

"Never doing that again," you groaned, slumping into your chair and letting your head fall back against the cushion. Your neck felt like it had been replaced with concrete somewhere around hour six.

"You literally say that every time," Riven quipped from her side of the room.

If you had any energy left, you would've gotten up and punched her in the ass. Luckily for her, your eyes had started doing that thing where they drooped shut every few seconds without your permission. You'd decided about thirty minutes ago that your chair was an acceptable substitute for a bed. The walk to your actual mattress seemed about as feasible as climbing Mount Everest right now.

"How do I look? Good enough for the party?"

Fucking hell. 

You summoned what little remained of your core strength and groaned as you forced your chair to swivel around. The sight that greeted you was, admittedly, impressive, even through your exhaustion-blurred vision.

Riven wore a black dress that hit just above her knees, with strategic cutouts along her ribs. The laced-up black heels she'd spent twenty minutes struggling with (while whining very fucking loudly) completed the look perfectly. She'd devoted the last hour of your project completion marathon to preparing for KK’s birthday celebration.

“Which party?” you croaked. “The one where everyone’s fighting or the one where they’re pretending nothing happened?”

Her nose wrinkled in that way it did when she was trying not to laugh. "You're so annoying."

Yeeeaaah, definitely the messy one.

You watched as Riven stumbled toward her drawer, rummaging through three compartments before pulling out a neon orange tiny bag. And when you say tiny, you mean tiny, it couldn't have been more than two inches across.

"Can you even fit anything in there?"

A wicked smile spread across her face as she opened the toy purse, pulling out her student ID and a tube of lipstick. Of-fucking-course. “Minimalist chic, baby. Besides, I don’t need much. Just the essentials. I'm serious. Tonight's gonna be fucking legendary."

“Legendary,” you deadpanned, swiveling your chair back to your desk. “Try not to end up on Barstool again.”

You swore she lunged forward, ready to attack you with her miniature weapon. But her phone rang, which happened to be a far more pressing matter. The assault could wait. Riven pressed the phone to her ear with a smile that would have made the Cheshire Cat proud.

"Are you here? Yeah, I'm ready. You have the Pink Whitney? Okay. Bye."

She turned back to you with that same manic grin. "I'll get you back for that later. Bye!"

And just like that, Riven leaped out of the room, her neon orange bag and its singular tube of lipstick disappearing with her into whatever chaos awaited at the UConn house.

The sudden silence in her wake felt almost oppressive. You sat there for a moment, contemplating your life choices. The clean lines and precise measurements of your engineering models never gave you this much drama. Maybe that's why you preferred spending your nights with SOLIDWORKS instead of at parties—machines were predictable, logical, and they never started drama about anyone's jump shot.

After nearly crawling your way across the room for what felt like thirty minutes (but was probably closer to five), you finally made it to your bed. Or rather, to the base of your bed. The problem now was getting on top of it. UConn, in its infinite wisdom, had given everyone the tallest fucking beds in existence.

Tall enough that all of your belongings fit underneath it so they could make the rooms ten times smaller by doing so. You sat on your ass, glaring at what felt like a sixteen-foot space between you and the mattress. You could, theoretically, just fucking get up and with one last surge of energy jump onto it. But the soft cotton of your fuzzy rug was suddenly hugging your back, tucking you in, cradling you like a loving parent.

Fuck it, the floor isn't even that bad. You've slept on much worse—like that one time freshman year when you passed out in the robotics lab after a forty-eight-hour building session. At least your rug didn't smell like motor oil and desperation.

Your head lay flat on the floor, the hardwood never felt softer. Riven had left hours ago, and you'd managed to successfully knock out on your chair for a bit. That was until you jolted awake, sweating out of every crevice of your body, and made eye contact with your actual bed. You'd said goodbye to the chair and began the voyage to your proper sleeping place. Clearly, that wasn't going as planned.

It was too late now to dwell on what could've been. Tomorrow, you'd start anew. Just like every time she partied, Riven wouldn't be back for two or three days. You'd have a full day to sleep on your actual bed without the mention of UConn and internal combustion engines.

You turned to your side, the fuzz tickling your chin as you nuzzled into it. Sleep was just starting to creep in when—

"Taylor! Tay baby, please open the door!"

The hairs on your arms rose and a fart you hadn't realized you'd been holding in released into the air. Some drunk player had the wrong door.

“Wrong room,” you called, hoping they’d get the hint. With a shaky breath, you nuzzled deeper into the carpet.

Not a second later, a bang erupted through your room. "Tay, please. I'm so sorry. I fucked up."

Your heart thrashed in your chest. Could you not have one night of peace? One night of tranquility to enjoy your own company? One night to enjoy sleeping on the hard floor?

"Taylor, for fuckssake." The asshole nearly knocked the fucking door off the hinges.

First, you're going to knock her the hell out. Then, you'll find out where Taylor lives and knock her out, too. Maybe you could work it into your next robotics project—a robot specifically designed to punch drunk athletes who can't read room numbers.

"Tay, please—"

You jolted upward and ran to the door so fast you probably broke several laws of physics. Swinging the wooden panel open like a madwoman, you yelled, "Listen asshole, I don't know who Taylor is and I don't give a damn. It's late as hell and some of us actually enjoy sleeping!"

Said asshole leaned against the door frame of your room, a Nike-covered foot tapping against the floor as she pressed a finger to your lips. "Shhhhh, baby, I said I'm sorry."

Your throat locked and you nearly laughed at the audacity. Did this fucker really not notice you weren't Taylor? Through your sleep-deprived haze, you managed to register a few details about the intruder: tall, athletic build that made your mouth go dry, honey-blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders, and wearing what looked like exclusive UConn team gear. Great. A drunk basketball star. 

Said basketball star happened to also push herself off the door frame and trudge past you, right into your room as if she'd been there a million times.

Much like you wanted to before your carpet trapped you, the stranger leaped onto your bed, stomach flopping onto the cushion of your mattress. She muttered something you couldn't hear as she grabbed your favorite pillow and brought it close to her chest. She was snuggling your Mr. Gummy.

You were going to go to jail for assaulting a Division I athlete. Yeah. This was the end of your girl boss engineering career. Goodbye feminist STEM icon. Hello convict. All those years of suffering to get into UConn just for you to catch a case over the Greek Goddess, Nike, herself. At least you'd submitted your project first, might as well get credit for that before you went to prison.

"Babe, I don't remember your bed smelling this good." She'd gone into a fetal position, kicking off her—yep, definitely team-exclusive Nikes. Maybe, just maybe, you'd knock her out and then sell her shoes on StockX. The proceeds could cover your legal defense.

You rubbed your forehead with the back of your palm, wiping away the stress sweat that had accumulated. You swung your head out of your door, looking left and right, then repeat. Empty. Fuck. Fuck, and fuck.

You paced back and forth a few times, biting on the edge of your hand. You can't pick this goddess off your bed. One, she's drunk as hell. Two, she's... You gazed back at the stranger, somewhere on her journey to your bed she'd tossed her UConn warmup jacket to your floor. Leaving her in a fitted tank top that left nothing to the imagination.

Who needs that many shoulder muscles? The definition in the arm that hugged Mr. Gummy was sculpted by years of perfect jump shots. Each shift of her body revealed new curves, like a living Nike ad designed specifically to torment sleep-deprived engineering students.

Holy hell. Get a fucking grip.

Okay, so you can't drag the basketball star off your bed.

Plan B it is.

You trudged into your room, taking one last look at the hallway. Should you close the door?

If someone did hypothetically walk past would they think you drugged her? She was slurring her words and hugging your favorite bear while you paced back and forth like you happened to "accidentally" slip something into her Gatorade.

You closed the door.

You needed to call Riven. You could care less that she was at the beginning of her three-day rager, you weren't going to wait till the next morning when Nike would wake up and start accusing you of kidnapping UConn's star point guard.

You slowly walked toward your desk, making sure to avoid the panels on the floor that creaked every time someone stepped on them. Empty. You pushed your chair back to see if it happened to fall earlier. Empty.

The air stilled, and you shook your head. No. No. She was laying on it.

You'd chucked your phone onto your bed after deciding to finally start your project. You had to call Riven. There was no other choice but to tell someone. And given the fact that your contact list included your parents and Riven, she was looking like the most optimal candidate.

As silently as you could, you tip-toed toward your bed and did a quick examination. Near her head? Nope. Mr. Gummy? Nope. Legs? Nope. Hip?

Yeah.

Maybe you would go to jail after all, for assault.

You better get an A on that fucking project.

You took a step forward, awkwardly climbing the edge of your bed to get closer to your phone. Which was nicely tucked right under the curve of her ass, your camera barely peeking out as if it was taunting you.

Shit. How are you going to pull it out?

Your face contorted as you inched closer to the basketball player, thumb and middle finger clutching the edges of your phone and lightly tugging backward. She huffed out a soft groan. Dear god.

It's not budging.

In and out. Breathe.

You tugged again.

Something thudded against the floor.

Your eyes left the phone and gazed to the floor where your Mr. Gummy lay sacrificed to the floor demons. Uh oh.

You turned back to retrieve your bear when your eyes locked with hers. Her very open eyes.

She was smiling.

"Baby I didn't know you were so handsy."

You stared. That's all you could manage to do—stare at the face of the beautiful drunk idiot in front of you. And holy shit was she beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made you question if UConn's recruitment standards included a mandatory photogenic quota for certain players.

The idiot had a playful smile playing across her stupidly perfect face. Taylor must be a lucky girl. Not lucky enough, though, considering her girlfriend was currently in a stranger's bed. How drunk did someone have to be to not recognize they had the wrong person?

"C'mere," she grabbed your arm, pulling you to your side as if you weighed nothing. A strong arm locked around your waist and began rubbing circles on your stomach. The motion sent shivers down your spine that you desperately tried to ignore.

"Missed you, n' I'm sorry baby," she slurred into your ear. Her voice was much softer now, a warm whisper that made your whole body tingle.

Taylor, I'm so sorry.

The words shot straight between your legs. You hadn't been touched in almost two years. Sue me. A gorgeous basketball star was rubbing your lower stomach while she told you—her girlfriend—she missed her. This had to be some kind of cosmic joke. You spend three years avoiding athlete drama, and now the universe deposits one directly into your bed?

You needed your phone. Pronto.

"Listen— I—" You raised a clammy hand to lift her, attempting to wrap your fingers around her wrist to lift it. Your engineering brain was trying to calculate the exact force required to remove her arm without waking her up further, but all mathematical ability seemed to have short-circuited.

"You're so squirmy tonight," she intertwined your fingers.

What the fuck are you supposed to do? You inched your body further away in an attempt to shrug her off. A move that, in retrospect, was about as well-thought-out as trying to integrate calculus while drunk.

Nike thought otherwise. She pulled you closer until her front was pressed firmly against your back, her breath warm against your neck. You could feel the defined muscles of her stomach through her tank top, her body radiating heat that made your head spin.

FUCK.

You'll wake up with a gay panic and a warrant.

"I'm really tired," you squirmed against the death grip around your waist. For someone supposedly blackout drunk, she had the grip strength of someone who'd spent their life fighting through double teams.

Just pretend it's not there. You do not feel anything. Just toned arms and her—

"G'to bed baby. I'll make it up— make it up to you n' the morning." Nike lifted herself to place one last sleepy kiss against your cheek.

Two minutes later, Nike’s light snores vibrated against the back of your neck, warm breath caressing your skin. You wouldn't be able to move her off you. You had no clue where your phone was. Her hip could very well have fully consumed it at this point, creating some kind of phone-eating black hole that physics hadn't yet discovered.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes, pretended there wasn't a Division I basketball star sleeping in your bed, and prayed that you wouldn't end up in some viral TikTok before noon. At least if you did become internet famous, you'd already submitted that goddamn CAD project.

Your last thought before drifting off was that Mr. Gummy better not tell anyone about this.

"OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL!"

Are you being robbed? Is someone being murdered? You jolted upwards to see Riven staring at you with an open mouth, her perfectly applied makeup from last night now resembling a raccoon's Halloween costume.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of sleep. What's her problem?

She pointed to your bed and you turned your body to the side. Oh.

Oh.

Nike was rapidly blinking, those unfairly long eyelashes fluttering as she was most likely realizing you were not Taylor. The morning light streaming through your window illuminated her features in a way that should be illegal before coffee.

You laughed nervously, hands flailing in front of you like a malfunctioning windmill. "It's not what it looks like."

"Why is Paige Bueckers in your bed?"

Paige Bueckers? The same UConn Basketball Star Paige Bueckers? No fucking way.

This Paige had cuddled Mr. Gummy half of the night before opting to trap you in the bed with her. There was no chance that this was the same Paige Bueckers that had NIL deals with Nike and Gatorade and had laid waste to half the NCAA. 

Paige—definitely Paige—groaned beside you, hands rubbing her face. "Taylor's going to kill me," she mumbled underneath her breath.

"No, we— we didn't. We." You pointed between yourself and Paige, your brain short-circuiting like a poorly wired circuit board.

"Listen, sweetie, I'm sure it was the time of your life, but this was a one-time thing." Her voice had that practiced smoothness of someone who'd given this speech before, probably more times than the number of equations in your thermodynamics textbook.

Your eyes bulged out of their sockets. Was she serious? Did she think you two—? And she was okay with it? Now, this fits the description perfectly of the cocky superstar Paige Bueckers was known to be. 

Your face burned hotter than an overclocked processor. "We did not have sex. You came in here drunk off your ass screaming about your girlfriend."

By the time the word girlfriend left your mouth, Paige Bueckers had already jumped off your bed with the agility of someone who definitely wasn't as hungover as she should be. She snatched up her UConn warmup jacket from your floor and was halfway down the hallway before you could blink.

What an arrogant little asshole. Your muscles quivered with the urge to strangle her. That is if you ever saw her again. Which, given your luck and UConn’s campus, was probably inevitable.

"How long have you and Paige been seeing each other?" The empty spot beside you filled with Riven's weight. "Is that why you never wanted to come to the games with me?"

"Riven, you have five seconds to get off of my bed before I strangle you."

"You can't avoid this conversation forever!" she called out as you stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door with perhaps more force than necessary.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you tried to process the reality that you'd just spent the night cuddled up with Paige fucking Bueckers. The same player whose name had been carved into the unofficial NCAA hierarchy since before orientation. 

You splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the memory of how her arms had felt around you, how her breath had tickled your neck, how her—

No. Absolutely not. You were not going to join the ranks of college students who'd lost their minds over a basketball star. You had bigger things to worry about. Like whether your CAD project had uploaded properly. Or if you could ever look at Mr. Gummy the same way again.

The next few days passed in a blur of classes, labs, and actively avoiding any location where you might run into Paige. You'd even skipped Tuesday's Engineering Club meeting, sending your vice president a detailed email about needing to catch up on work. It wasn't entirely a lie—you did have work to catch up on, considering you'd spent half your study time calculating alternate routes to class that avoided the usual athlete hangouts.

But by Thursday afternoon, your luck ran out. The library was supposed to be safe—the one place on campus where the basketball players rarely ventured. They had their own private study rooms in the athletic center, after all. Which is why you'd let your guard down, settling into your favorite spot near the engineering section to catch up on your reading.

The peaceful atmosphere was shattered by two girls settling at the table across from you, their whispered conversation carrying clearly in the quiet space.

"So yeah, I like totally made out with Paige in the team room. We almost knocked over Coach's whiteboard, isn't that hilarious?" The prettier of the two said as she placed her MacBook on the wooden table, her voice carrying that forced casualness of someone trying very hard to seem unbothered.

Her friend laughed and took a sip of her Starbucks, a lemonade, probably sugar-free, because of course it was. "So how was it?"

Paige's latest conquest giggled and opened her laptop, trying to seem as uninterested in the conversation as possible. You'd seen this play before, the carefully crafted nonchalance that masked the inevitable disappointment when Paige moved on to her next target. You'd bet your entire scholarship that she'd gone home crying after being ghosted, only to watch Paige pretend she didn't exist the next day.

By this point, you'd given up all pretense of studying chemical processes and electron movement. You'd reread the same paragraph in your textbook sixteen times, your brain more interested in this glimpse into the life of your unexpected bedmate. So what if you're being nosy? Everyone is nosy, and besides, you'd mentally checked out the moment these two sat down.

"She's such a good kisser.” Her friend's mouth dropped open as she placed her half-empty cup onto the table, grabbing her friend's shoulder with one hand. The former nodded, still giggling, "Sarah, I know. She like totally picked me up against the whiteboard."

Are they not aware that people can hear them? That they're in a public space? You glanced around the library, which was half-empty as usual. So maybe you were the only one eavesdropping. Still, you wouldn't go around a library of all places announcing your hookups to the world.

"Hey buttercup," an eerily familiar voice purred in your ear.

You jolted, arms flailing like a malfunctioning robot, inevitably colliding with your pencil case and sending its contents scattering across the floor. Various writing implements rolled under nearby tables like they were making a break for freedom.

You turned to lock eyes with a very, very familiar pair of hazel eyes. Shit.

"Do I know you?" You asked through gritted teeth, trying to ignore how good she looked in her fitted Nike training gear. The amount of exclusive team merchandise on her body probably equaled your entire semester's expenses.

Why would Paige, of all people, be looking for you? If you remembered correctly, she was the one to so diligently inform you that whatever happened was a one-time thing—even though nothing had actually happened.

Paige's eyes crinkled at the corners as her lips tugged upward into that infamous smirk. She leaned forward, resting one hand on the edge of the table, the other on the back of your chair, effectively caging you in. "Don't play dumb."

She was in your bubble. Way too close for comfort, especially since you'd been planning on never having to interact with her again. You groaned and leaned backward, roughly pushing your chair back to give yourself space to lean over and pick up your scattered pens. The move was partly practical and partly designed to annoy her.

"Listen, if it was up to me, I wouldn't be here either." Paige grabbed the chair to your left and pushed it closer to you, dropping into it with that natural athlete's grace. "I've been to your room every day since Sunday and you haven't been there once."

Welp. Why the hell would she be looking for you?

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware I was supposed to be waiting in my room for you." You shoved the pens back into your pencil case, gripping the zipper and tugging it closed with perhaps more force than necessary. Looks like the library was no longer a safe haven.

"I lost my phone and you're the only person I remember being with that night," Paige groaned, turning her head.

Does she truly remember that night? Remember that you two didn't actually hook up but instead cuddled? You wanted to convulse at the memory of how safe and warm you'd felt in her arms. How right it had—no. Absolutely not.

"Oh fuck," she mumbled, her expression shifting from annoyed to something closer to panic.

Your eyes followed her gaze to see what had caused this reaction.

Ha. Ha. Ha. In your face, superstar. You couldn't help but grin as you realized the two girls were still very much present. Not only present but staring at you and Paige with expressions that suggested their jaws might actually detach and hit the table.

Paige leaned back in her chair, sending them a small wave and a—was that a wink? Your eyes nearly rolled directly out of their sockets. How much more predictable could she get?

You didn't bother to look back at the two girls to see their reaction. You could guess it anyway—probably swooning in their chairs, maybe even planning their own strategic "accidental" encounters with her. You wouldn't be surprised if they were already planning to show up at her next practice session.

"Anyways," Paige turned back to you, her voice dropping to that low register that definitely didn't do things to your insides, "Have you seen it?"

You shook your head, closing your textbook. Time to get the hell out of here. "No, I haven't. Sorry."

"Are you mad about what I said? Is that why you're holding my precious phone hostage?" Paige's hand shot out to land on top of your textbook, preventing you from shoving it in your bag—or directly at her stupid, perfect face.

"Mad about what exactly?" You grabbed her hand and tried to shove it off the textbook. She didn't budge. Of course she didn't, you'd seen her arms during all those ESPN highlights Riven forced you to watch. "I do not have your phone."

Within seconds, Paige's hand slid off the textbook only to trap your hand against it instead. She moved to the edge of her chair and leaned forward until her lips were at the shell of your ear. Her warm breath hit your skin and you had to resist the urge to squirm. "About what I said in front of your roommate, sweetie."

Your blood ran cold. Does she think you give two shits about what she said in front of Riven? That she made your roommate think you two were secretly hooking up and that she would undoubtedly eventually let it slip to her sorority sisters? Who will tell the rest of campus? No. Not. At. All.

Asshole. She's a no-good little asshole with too many NIL deals and too little accountability.

You turned your head to face her, ignoring the fact that you were now inches apart. If you weren't so pissed you might've paused to appreciate how her eyes looked up close, how they seemed to hold more mischief than all the troublemakers in Cambridge combined. But now wasn't the time for character studies.

You held her gaze, noting the slight knit in her brow that suggested she wasn't as confident as she was pretending to be. "Listen here Bueckers, whether or not you want to keep pretending like we hooked up or not is none of my business. I do not have your fucking phone, and if I did I would've thrown that shit into the Charles River by now."

You yanked your hand away from her grasp and turned back to your desk. You managed to successfully toss your textbook into your bag and rise from your chair without another word from her.

Before making your very dramatic exit, you turned to face her one last time. Might as well make it grand.

Paige hadn't moved an inch since you'd stood up. She stared at you with a raised brow and that infuriating smirk tugging at her lips. She found this amusing? Found humiliating you in the library a good pastime?

You bent over your chair, placing one hand on her shoulder and leaning in until you were at the shell of her ear. She stiffened under your touch, and you felt a small thrill of satisfaction. What the fuck are you doing?

You leaned in further, so close that your chest pressed flat against your arm and her body. So close that your lips actually grazed her ear as you whispered, with all the venom you could muster, “This might work on your little groupies, but, I’m not interested.” 

The last thing you saw as you straightened up and walked away was the shocked expression on her face, like she couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Good. Let her be confused for once.

You managed to make it all the way to the library exit before your hands started shaking. What the hell had gotten into you? You'd just essentially declared war on one of the most prominent athletes at UConn. The star player who could probably get you banned from every sports event without blinking.

But as you pushed through the heavy doors into the crisp fall air, you couldn't bring yourself to regret it. Maybe it was time someone stood up to the mighty Paige Bueckers. Someone who didn't want anything from her except for her to leave them alone.

Your muscles were still tense from your library encounter as you trudged up the stairs to your dorm room. The familiar hallway felt longer than usual, probably because every step reminded you of how spectacularly you'd just antagonized UConn's star player. At least you'd managed to get through your thermodynamics lab without dwelling too much on the way Paige's face had dropped when you'd—

No. Stop fucking thinking about it.

You fumbled with your key card, missing the reader twice before finally getting the door open. The first thing you noticed was an envelope on the floor, likely slipped under your door while you were in class. You bent down to pick it up, ready to toss it in the recycling with all the other campus spam, when Riven's voice cut through the room.

"What's that?"

You jumped, nearly dropping the envelope. Your roommate was sprawled across her bed, still in her scrubs from her hospital rotation. She must have gotten back early.

"Nothing," you muttered, but it was too late. Riven had already launched herself off her bed with surprising agility for someone who'd just finished a twelve-hour shift.

"Oh my god," she squealed, snatching the envelope from your hands before you could protest. "These are courtside tickets to Saturday's game!"

Your stomach dropped. Sure enough, two tickets peeked out of the torn envelope in Riven's hands. But what caught your eye was the note attached.

Found my phone in the team room. Who would’ve thought, right? Peace? - PB

"We're going," Riven declared, already pulling out her phone. "I'm texting the group chat right now. Do you know how impossible these tickets are to get?"

You reached for the tickets, but Riven danced away, holding them above her head like a prized trophy. "We are not going."

"Oh yes we are," she grinned, typing furiously with one hand while keeping the tickets out of your reach with the other. "Everyone's going to be so jealous. How did you even get these?"

"I didn't—" you started, then stopped. How exactly do you explain to your basketball-obsessed roommate that these tickets were some kind of weird peace offering from Paige Bueckers? A peace offering that felt more like a challenge, especially given that note.

"Earth to engineering nerd," Riven waved her hand in front of your face. "You're coming to this game. No excuses. I've already told everyone you're finally embracing the Husky spirit."

You groaned, falling face-first onto your bed. Mr. Gummy stared at you judgmentally from his spot against your pillow. Even he seemed to be saying you should have thrown those tickets away the moment you saw them.

"I have to study," you mumbled into your comforter.

"You always have to study," Riven countered. "But how often do you get courtside tickets from Paige Bueckers?"

Your head shot up. "How did you—"

"PB?" Riven held up the note, smirking. "Please. I may be pre-med, but I'm not stupid. Also, her signature is literally on every piece of UConn merch in the campus store."

Great. Just great. Now you had no choice but to go to the game. If you didn't, Riven would never let you hear the end of it. She'd probably drag you there anyway, study plans be damned.

You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer some escape route from this situation. Instead, all you could think about was how you'd have to sit courtside—courtside—and watch Paige play. Watch her make those impossible passes, sink those perfect three-pointers, command the court like she was born to do it.

And she'd know you were there. That was the worst part. This wasn't just a peace offering—it was a power play. She was making sure you couldn't ignore her anymore.

"Fine," you sighed, already regretting the word as it left your mouth. "But I'm bringing my thermodynamics textbook."

Riven's squeal of delight was probably heard all the way in the engineering building.

You grabbed Mr. Gummy and hugged him to your chest, wondering how exactly you'd gone from successfully telling Paige Bueckers to fuck off to having courtside seats to watch her play. The bear offered no answers, but you could have sworn he looked a little smug about the whole situation.

The next two days were a special kind of torture. Riven had taken it upon herself to become your personal "game day preparation coordinator," which apparently meant forcing you to sit through endless highlight reels of UConn's recent victories. By Friday afternoon, you could probably recite Paige's stat line from memory—not that you'd ever admit that to anyone.

"You can't wear that," Riven declared as you pulled out your standard comfort outfit: UConn Engineering hoodie and black leggings.

You glanced down at your clothes, then back at your roommate. "Why not?"

"Because we're sitting courtside," she emphasized the word like you were a particularly slow child. "People are going to see us. The cameras might even pan to us during timeouts!"

The mere thought made your stomach churn. "That's exactly why I should wear this. I don't want to draw any attention."

Riven was already shaking her head, diving into her closet with the determination of someone on a mission. "No way. If Paige Bueckers gives you courtside tickets, you dress for the occasion."

"She didn't give them to me," you protested, even though technically she had. "They were just left under our door."

"Right," Riven emerged with an armful of clothes. "Just like she just happened to end up in your bed that night?"

You threw Mr. Gummy at her head. She dodged, laughing as the bear bounced harmlessly off your desk lamp. "We are not talking about that again."

An hour and approximately seventeen outfit changes later, you finally escaped. Your excuse about needing to pick up materials from the engineering lab wasn't entirely a lie—you did have a project due next week. The fact that the engineering building was on the opposite side of campus from the athletic facilities was just a bonus.

Lost in thought, you didn't notice the person exiting the coffee shop until it was too late. Hot liquid splashed across your chest as you collided with what felt like a brick wall of muscle.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!" A voice that definitely wasn't Paige's (thank god) exclaimed.

You looked up—and up—into the concerned face of one of UConn's basketball players. The Croatian accent and defensive intensity were legendary enough that even you, perpetually sports-oblivious, recognized her from Riven's endless team discussions.

"It's fine," you managed, trying to ignore how the hot coffee was currently seeping through your shirt. At least it wasn't your engineering hoodie—Riven would've killed you if you'd ruined her carefully planned outfit for tomorrow.

She was already pulling napkins from her pocket, dabbing at your shirt with a look of genuine distress. "Let me buy you a new coffee. And shirt," she added, eyeing the growing stain.

"Really, it's fine." You stepped back, ready to bolt. The last thing you needed was another interaction with a basketball player.

But she wasn't letting you off that easy. She grabbed your wrist with surprising gentleness for someone known for her aggressive defense. “Nah, I insist. I'm Nika, by the way. And I really do feel terrible about this."

Before you could protest further, she was steering you back into the coffee shop. The barista's eyes widened slightly at the sight of Nika—clearly a regular customer—but otherwise maintained their professional composure.

"The usual for me," Nika called out, "and whatever she wants." She turned to you expectantly.

You mumbled your name and order—"Just a black coffee"—trying to shrink into yourself. Several students were openly staring now, probably wondering why Nika Mühl was buying coffee for some random engineering student.

"And a chocolate croissant," Nika added, ignoring your attempt to protest. "Trust me, they're amazing here."

You shifted uncomfortably as she paid, very aware of the wet fabric clinging to your skin. Nika seemed to notice your discomfort because she shrugged off her UConn warmup jacket and held it out to you.

"Here, you can't stay in that wet shirt."

You stared at the jacket like it might bite you. The same style jacket Paige had left on your floor that night. The one that probably cost more than your textbooks.

"I can't—"

"You can and you will," Nika insisted, pushing the jacket into your hands. "There's a bathroom right there. Go change before you catch a cold."

Something in her tone brooked no argument. You found yourself in the bathroom before you could really process what was happening, staring at your reflection as you zipped up the warmup jacket. It was slightly too big, making you look like a kid playing dress-up in their older sibling's clothes.

When you emerged, Nika had already claimed a table in the corner, your drinks and the promised chocolate croissant waiting. She waved you over with a smile that somehow managed to be both friendly and slightly intimidating.

"So," she said as you slid into the seat across from her, "what's your major?"

"Engineering. Mechanical." You picked at the croissant, wondering how quickly you could eat it and escape.

Nika's eyes narrowed slightly, like she was trying to solve a puzzle. "Engineering— wait." Her eyes widened with recognition. "Holy shit, are you that girl?"

You froze mid-bite. "What girl?"

"The one from the library! The one who told Paige—what was it?  ‘That you’re not one of her groupies’?” Nika's grin spread across her face like wildfire. "No wonder she's been such a mess lately."

You choked on your croissant. "What?"

"Oh my god, this is perfect. You're also the one she—" Nika cut herself off, studying your increasingly red face with growing delight. "The one whose room she crashed in after KK’s party?"

Your face burned hotter than the coffee you'd been wearing moments ago. "How did you—"

"Paige tells me everything," Nika leaned back in her chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Well, eventually. Had to drag this one out of her after she spent three days moping around practice like someone had stolen her favorite pair of Jordan’s.”

"I didn't steal anything," you protested automatically. "Not her phone, not her—"

"Oh, she knows that now," Nika waved dismissively. "Found it in the team room yesterday morning. Right where those girls said it would be." She paused, then added with a smirk, "Though I have to say, watching her spiral about it was pretty entertaining. She's not used to people calling her out like that."

The implication hung heavy in the air. You remembered the library girls' story about making out with Paige against the whiteboard. Something must have shown on your face because Nika's expression softened slightly.

"Look, Paige is complicated. She's not used to people seeing through her bullshit." She took a sip of her drink, considering her next words carefully. "Those tickets? That's her way of saying she fucked up."

"By accusing me of stealing her phone?"

"By letting you think she didn't remember that night."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "What?"

Nika's phone buzzed before she could answer. She glanced at it and grimaced. "Speaking of her royal highness, I'm late for film." She stood, gathering her things with practiced efficiency. "Keep the jacket. Consider it compensation for the coffee attack."

You watched her head toward the door, your mind spinning with questions. Just before she left, she turned back with a knowing smirk.

"See you tomorrow at the game. Front row, right?"

The door chimed as she left, leaving you alone with a half-eaten croissant and more questions than answers. You looked down at the jacket, at the way the UConn logo seemed to mock you with its pristine embroidery.

Somehow, in trying to avoid Paige Bueckers, you'd managed to get tangled up in her world anyway. And tomorrow, you'd have to sit courtside and watch her in her element, all while wearing her best friend's jacket.

Mr. Gummy was definitely going to judge you for this.

"No." You glared at the suspicious red cup Riven was waving in front of your face. "Absolutely not."

"Come on! It's tradition!" She pushed the cup closer, its contents sloshing dangerously near the rim. The sharp smell of cheap vodka mixed with what you assumed was cranberry juice wafted toward you. "You can't go to your first real game sober."

You turned back to your mirror, adjusting Nika's warmup jacket for the hundredth time. The number 10 stared back at you, a constant reminder of yesterday's coffee shop encounter. You'd tried to talk yourself out of wearing it, but everything else felt too casual for courtside seats (according to Riven) or too formal (also according to Riven).

"I'm not pregaming a basketball game at three in the afternoon."

"It's four," Riven corrected, checking her phone. "And yes, you are. The team's already been at Gampel for hours, and we need to leave in thirty minutes if we want good spots for warm-ups. I refuse to let you sit there reading thermodynamics while history happens right in front of us."

You spun around, hands on your hips. "History?"

"Yes! We're playing Notre Dame. It's huge." She thrust the cup into your hands with such force that some of it splashed onto your fingers. "And you're wearing Nika Mühl's personal jacket. Do you know how many people would kill for that?"

"I got it because she spilled coffee on me," you muttered, but took a small sip anyway. Just to shut her up. The drink was surprisingly not terrible— mostly juice with just enough vodka to warm your chest.

"Right. Just like Paige 'accidentally' ended up in your bed." Riven made air quotes with her fingers, nearly spilling her own drink in the process. "And then 'accidentally' gave us courtside tickets."

"Can we not talk about that?" You took another sip, larger this time. The warmth spread through your limbs, making everything feel slightly softer around the edges. Maybe Riven had a point about the drinking thing.

"Oh, we're definitely talking about it." She flopped onto your bed, somehow not spilling a drop. "You're wearing her best friend's jacket to watch her play. This is like, next level psychological warfare."

You choked on your drink. "It's not warfare! I just didn't have anything else to wear."

"Mhmm." Riven's knowing smirk made you want to throw Mr. Gummy at her again. "That's why you spent twenty minutes adjusting it in the mirror."

"I did not—"

"You did! You were all,” She stood up, mimicking your earlier movements with exaggerated precision. "'Oh, should I zip it up all the way? Maybe halfway? What if I push up the sleeves?'"

You drained your cup in one go, grimacing at the burn. "I hate you."

"You love me." She was already mixing another drink, this one slightly stronger than the last. "And you're going to thank me when Paige sees you in that jacket and loses her mind."

"She's not going to lose her mind," you protested, but accepted the fresh drink anyway. "She probably won't even notice."

Riven's laugh echoed off the walls. "Oh honey. Paige notices everything. Why do you think she's the best point guard in the country?"

The walk to Gampel Pavilion was a blur of Riven's excited chatter and your growing anxiety. The drinks had taken the edge off, but your heart still raced as you approached the arena. Students were already lining up outside, many wearing jerseys and carrying signs. Your hand instinctively went to the zipper of Nika's jacket, suddenly very aware of what you were wearing.

"Stop fidgeting," Riven hissed, pulling you toward a separate entrance. "You look hot. Own it."

The security guard barely glanced at your tickets before waving you through. The arena was already humming with energy— staff rushing around with equipment, the band setting up in their section, early arrivals claiming their seats. 

Your courtside seats were exactly where you'd dreaded they'd be: directly behind the UConn bench. Close enough to hear every word, see every expression, feel every moment of tension.

"This is insane," you muttered, sinking into your seat. The court stretched out before you like a stage, the overhead lights making everything feel surreal.

"Look." Riven nudged you, pointing toward the tunnel. "They're coming out for warm-ups."

Your heart jumped into your throat as the team emerged, led by the coaching staff. Players filed onto the court in perfect formation, their practice jerseys a sea of navy and white. You spotted Nika first— impossible to miss with her distinctive playing style, already intense even in warm-ups.

And then there she was.

Paige moved with that effortless grace that made everything look easy, her ponytail swinging as she dribbled two balls simultaneously. She hadn't looked toward the crowd yet, locked in that pre-game focus that elite athletes got.

"Here we go," Riven whispered, her phone already out and recording.

You watched as Paige went through her warm-up routine, each movement precise and practiced. She worked her way around the three-point line, barely seeming to notice as shot after shot swished through the net.

Then she turned to grab a rebound, and her eyes swept across the courtside seats.

You saw the exact moment she registered you. Her hands froze mid-dribble, the ball bouncing away forgotten. Her gaze locked onto the number 10 across your chest, then slowly traveled up to meet your eyes.

The intensity in her stare made your whole body flush hot. You watched as her jaw clenched, that familiar muscle ticking in a way that sent heat straight to your core. Her eyes darkened with something that looked dangerously close to possession.

Nika appeared beside her, saying something that made Paige snap back to attention. But not before you caught the way her gaze lingered on how her best friend's jacket fit your frame.

"Holy shit," Riven breathed, still recording. "I think you broke her."

You slumped lower in your seat, already regretting letting the vodka convince you this was a good idea. "Shut up."

"No way. This is better than any reality show." She zoomed in as Paige missed her next three shots in a row. "Look what you did to her."

"I didn't do anything," you protested weakly, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from Paige's form. The way her practice jersey clung to her shoulders, how her muscles flexed with each movement, the intense focus that had returned to her features – though you swore you caught her glancing in your direction between plays.

This was going to be a very long game.

The game started exactly as you'd expected— with Paige absolutely demolishing Notre Dame's defense while you tried very hard to look anywhere else. It wasn't working.

"Did you see that pass?" Riven screamed in your ear for approximately the eighteenth time. "She didn't even look!"

No, you hadn't seen the pass, because you were very deliberately studying the fascinating architecture of Gampel's ceiling. The vodka buzz had worn off about twenty minutes ago, leaving you hyperaware of every move, every sound, every time Paige jogged past your seats during transitions.

The worst part? Nika kept sending you these knowing looks from the bench, like she was watching her favorite rom-com play out in real time. You were starting to regret not bringing your thermodynamics textbook after all. At least differential equations made sense. They didn't smirk at you or have perfectly defined arm muscles or—

"Time out, Huskies!"

The players jogged toward the bench, and suddenly your personal space was invaded by very tall, very sweaty athletes. You tried to shrink further into your seat, but there was nowhere to go. Especially not when Paige dropped into a crouch right in front of you, ostensibly to grab her water bottle.

"Nice jacket," she said quietly, just loud enough for you to hear over the timeout huddle. Her eyes traveled down your body in a way that made you feel like you were wearing significantly less than a full warmup jacket and jeans.

You opened your mouth to respond with something witty, something that would put her in her place like you had in the library. Instead, what came out was: "Your friend has good taste."

Paige's eyes darkened, that same possessive look from warm-ups returning with intensity. "Does she?"

Before you could dig yourself into an even deeper hole, Coach Auriemma's voice cut through the tension. "Bueckers! Get your ass over here!"

You watched as she jogged back to the huddle, trying to ignore how your skin felt electric where her gaze had lingered. Beside you, Riven was practically vibrating with excitement.

"I got all of that on video," she whispered, waving her phone in your face. "This is going in the group chat."

"If you send that anywhere, I will reprogram your phone to only play the Barney theme song."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The timeout ended, and the players returned to the court. You noticed Paige was playing with even more intensity now, if that was possible. Her crossovers were sharper, her passes more precise, like she had something to prove.

"Twenty bucks says she's showing off for you," Riven muttered.

"Thirty says you're delusional."

But as you watched Paige sink another impossible three-pointer and turn slightly— just slightly - in your direction before jogging back on defense, you had to admit that maybe, just maybe, Riven had a point.

The game continued in a blur of strategic timeouts (during which Paige found increasingly creative ways to end up near your seat), incredible plays (that you definitely weren't watching just to see the way her muscles moved), and Riven's running commentary (which was getting progressively less about basketball and more about the "tension that could be cut with a knife").

By the fourth quarter, UConn had built a comfortable lead, and you'd developed a concerning familiarity with exactly how Paige's practice jersey clung to her shoulders when she was sweating. This was not information you needed in your life. You had CAD models to build, robots to program, a future in engineering to secure. You did not have time to notice how her hair had started falling out of its ponytail in these impossibly attractive wisps, or how—

"Game! Huskies win!"

The final buzzer snapped you out of your completely professional analysis of athletic biomechanics. The crowd erupted as players from both teams exchanged handshakes and hugs. You stood, ready to make your escape before—

"Leaving so soon?"

You turned to find Paige standing right there, still slightly breathless from the game, her presence filling your entire field of vision. Up close, you could see the flush of exertion on her cheeks, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the slight curl of her lips that suggested she knew exactly what she was doing to you.

"I have studying to do," you managed, proud that your voice came out steady.

"On a Saturday night?" She stepped closer, and you caught the faint scent of her perfume mixed with sweat. It should not have been as attractive as it was. "After watching me put up thirty points?"

"Thirty-two," you corrected automatically, then immediately wanted to die. Beside you, Riven made a sound that might have been a squeal or a laugh.

Paige's smirk grew wider. "So you were watching."

"It was kind of hard to miss, considering where we're sitting." You gestured to the courtside seats that had started this whole mess.

"About that," she ran a hand through her hair, and those loose strands fell perfectly around her face in a way that had to be practiced. "I was thinking maybe we could—"

"Paige!" Nika's voice cut through whatever she'd been about to say. "Media's waiting!"

You'd never been so grateful for press obligations in your life.

Paige's jaw clenched in frustration, but she recovered quickly. "This isn't over," she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear. Then she was gone, jogging toward the media section with that natural athletic grace that made everything look effortless.

You stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Your skin still tingled where she'd been standing close enough to touch.

"So," Riven's voice broke through your daze. "Still think she hasn't noticed you?"

"We're going out," Riven declared, already rummaging through your closet without permission. "No arguments."

You looked up from your laptop, where you'd been desperately trying to focus on anything other than replaying the game in your head for the past two hours. "I have to—"

"If you say 'study' I will literally scream." She emerged with your one decent going-out top, the black one with the low back that you'd bought on impulse and worn exactly once. "You just watched UConn destroy Notre Dame from courtside seats while Paige Bueckers eye-fucked you in front of the entire student section. We're celebrating."

"She wasn't—" You cut yourself off, heat creeping up your neck. "And anyway, shouldn't she be celebrating with her girlfriend?"

The words tasted bitter in your mouth. You'd been trying very hard not to think about Taylor, about how Paige had crashed into your room calling out her name, about how clearly serious it must be if she was that desperate to apologize. The fact that she'd spent the entire game looking at you like... that... well, it just proved what everyone said about her, didn't it?

"Oh my god," Riven threw the shirt at your head. "Put this on. We're getting drunk and you're going to tell me everything you're overthinking about right now."

An hour later, you found yourself at The Tavern, nursing your second Moscow Mule while Riven recounted the game to anyone who would listen. The bar was packed with students celebrating the win, most still wearing their UConn gear and riding the high of victory.

"I just don't get it," you said, mostly to your drink. "Why is she suddenly so interested? I'm literally nobody. I spend my Friday nights debugging Python scripts and building robots that occasionally catch fire."

"Maybe that's exactly why," Riven waggled her eyebrows. "You're different. You don't worship the ground she walks on."

You snorted. "Right. Because what Paige Bueckers really wants is someone who told her to fuck off in the library."

The doors to The Tavern burst open, and suddenly the energy in the room shifted. A new wave of celebration swept through as the team arrived, fresh from their post-game duties. Your stomach did a complicated flip as you spotted Paige among them, now changed into fitted black jeans and a white button-down that should be illegal. Her hair was down, falling in waves that your fingers definitely didn't itch to touch.

"Speak of the devil," Riven smirked. "Want to test that theory?"

"Don't you dare—" But Riven was already waving enthusiastically, catching Nika's attention. The Croatian player's face lit up with unholy glee when she spotted you.

"Engineering girl!" Nika bounded over, dragging a very amused-looking Paige with her. "Still wearing my jacket, I see."

You started to unzip it, but she waved you off. "Keep it. It looks better on you anyway." She shot Paige a meaningful look that made your cheeks burn.

"I need another drink," Riven announced suddenly, grabbing Nika's arm. "Come show me where the team keeps their secret stash."

"We don't have a—" Nika caught on quickly, grinning. "Oh, right. That secret stash. This way."

And just like that, you were alone with Paige at the crowded bar, your body humming with awareness of how close she was standing.

"Subtle, aren't they?" Paige smiled, and for once it wasn't that practiced smirk. It was something softer, more genuine. She signaled the bartender, who materialized instantly. Must be nice being a campus celebrity.

"The usual?" The bartender asked Paige, already reaching for a bottle.

"And whatever she's having," Paige nodded toward your nearly empty Moscow Mule.

"I can buy my own drinks," you said quickly, reaching for your wallet.

Paige's lips twitched. "I know you can. But consider it part of my ongoing apology for the whole bed situation."

You raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep your voice steady. "You always apologize to your drunken mistakes with expensive drinks?"

The moment the words left your mouth, you wanted to snatch them back. But instead of looking offended, Paige just studied you with those impossibly intense eyes.

"Only the ones who let me cuddle their stuffed bears."

"Mr. Gummy," you corrected automatically, then immediately wanted to die. Again.

The bartender returned with your drinks, and you grabbed yours perhaps a bit too quickly, needing something to do with your hands. The Moscow Mule was perfect – strong enough to blame your burning cheeks on the alcohol.

"So," Paige said after a moment, looking far too comfortable for someone who'd just been called out on their drunken mistakes. "Engineering, huh?"

You nearly choked on your drink. "Are we really doing small talk right now?"

"Would you prefer I go back to staring at you from across the court?"

"I prefer knowing where I stand," you shot back, the alcohol making you braver than usual. "Because last I checked, you had a girlfriend you were pretty desperate to apologize to."

Something flashed across her face – regret? Embarrassment? "Taylor and I it's complicated."

"Isn't it always?" You couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of your voice. You'd heard enough stories about Paige's "complicated" situations to fill a textbook.

She turned to face you fully, and your breath caught at the unexpected vulnerability in her expression. "Look, I know what people say about me. Some of it's probably true. But Taylor and I have been over for months. That night... I was drunk and stupid because she'd started seeing someone new, and I handled it badly."

"By trying to crawl into her bed?"

"By accidentally crawling into yours." Her voice dropped lower, sending involuntary shivers down your spine. "Which, in retrospect, might have been the universe doing me a favor."

You forced yourself to meet her gaze, ignoring how your heart raced at the way she was looking at you. "Does that line usually work?"

"I don't know," she smiled, and it wasn't her usual cocky smirk. It was something smaller, almost shy. "I've never used it before."

Before you could process that, a commotion erupted near the pool tables. You both turned to see Riven attempting to teach one of the team's shooting guards proper form, which seemed to involve a lot of unnecessary physical contact.

"Ten bucks says they end up making out in the bathroom," Paige said, amusement coloring her tone.

"Twenty says Riven chickens out and spends the next week telling me about all the signals she thinks she missed."

Paige laughed, and the sound did something dangerous to your insides. "You know your roommate well."

"Well enough to know she's going to interrogate me about this conversation later."

"This conversation?" Paige shifted slightly closer, and you caught that intoxicating mix of her perfume and something uniquely her. "What's there to interrogate about?"

You gestured vaguely between you. "This whole... whatever this is. Where you're suddenly interested in small talk about my major and making jokes about the universe doing you favors."

"Maybe I just want to know more about the girl who told me to fuck off in the library." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "While wearing my best friend's jacket, no less."

"That was an accident—"

"Was it?" She was definitely closer now, close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. "Because from where I was standing, it looked a lot like a challenge."

Your grip tightened on your drink. "Not everything is about you, Bueckers."

"No," she agreed, her voice soft but intense. "But the way you've been looking at me all night? That might be."

The air between you crackled with tension. You should step back. You should remember all the stories, all the warnings, all the reasons this was a terrible idea. You should—

"There you are!" Nika's voice cut through the moment like a bucket of cold water. "Coach just texted. Team meeting tomorrow morning got moved up."

Paige's jaw clenched in frustration, but she recovered quickly. "What time?"

"Eight AM." Nika's eyes darted between you and Paige, her expression far too knowing. "Sorry to interrupt."

"You weren't," you said quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly judging by Nika's raised eyebrow.

Paige turned back to you, and the intensity in her gaze made your breath catch. "We'll finish this conversation later."

It wasn't a question.

You watched her walk away, trying to ignore how your body still hummed from her proximity. Nika lingered behind, grinning like she'd just won a bet with herself.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I've never seen her work this hard for someone's attention before."

"I'm not—" you started, but Nika was already following Paige, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a half-empty Moscow Mule.

Riven materialized beside you moments later, her eyes wide. "Okay, what the hell was that?"

"Nothing," you mumbled into your drink. "Just Paige Bueckers being Paige Bueckers."

But as you watched her gather her team to leave, she turned back just for a moment, catching your eye across the bar. The look she gave you was pure heat, a promise of more conversations to come.

You were so beyond utterly fucked.

[ddejavvu]

Your best friend James with no boundaries is such perfect James I can’t even 😩 I feel like after a while James rubs off on you and you don’t even think about it anymore. Like all of a sudden you’re bursting in on him in the shower to ask him a simple question, you’re taking your bra off immediately when you get to his room to get comfy, you’re touching him and being affectionate in ways that is definitely more than friends. And every time James is just doe eyed in love 😍 like you’re my bestie, darling 🥺 Meanwhile Sirius and Remus are watching like 😳 did that just happen? That’s not normal best friend behaviour

"Where's James?" You waste no time in pushing the door to the boys' dorms open, interrogating Sirius and Remus who've occupied themselves with what looks like a mountain of classwork.

"He's in the shower, you can- wait for him on his bed-!" Sirius watches as you beeline for the bathroom, standing to stop you when he realizes you're about to walk in on James.

"Y/N, don't-!" He tries, but you've nudged the door open, and you don't stop there. You make for the shower curtain and Sirius stands frozen in his spot, wondering if he's going to be fired as the group's official guard dog.

"Jamie?" You call, sticking your head between the shower curtain and the wall. James turns where he'd been unknowingly showcasing his broad, muscled back, soapy and lathered with suds.

"Oh-! Y/N, hi," He grins, working a sponge over his side, "What's up?"

'What's-' Sirius turns to Remus, mouthing an echo of your words in confusion. Remus has nothing to offer; in fact, he looks weary as he sits back in his seat and listens.

"Do you think I can borrow your scarf today? The girls 'n I were going to Hogsmeade but it's really cold, and I think I lost my scarf in the forest."

"Yeah, 's in my trunk, bird," James nods, conversation flowing easily despite James's lack of attire as he bends lower to scrub at his thighs, "Y'know where my trunk is, yeah?"

"Under your bed?" You confirm, and he nods again.

"Get the boys to help you drag it out, m'love,"

"Right. Thanks Jamie," You grin, leaning in to kiss the soaked skin of his cheek. He grins brightly, letting his own lips press to your much drier face.

You leave the bathroom once more to be met with Sirius and Remus's mildly disgruntled expressions, and they stare at you like they hadn't heard James's request for grunt muscle.

"Can you... help me with his trunk? He said I could borrow his scarf." You repeat, pointing timidly in the direction of his bed.

"Why don't you just take his boxers, too?" Sirius's nose wrinkles as he grimaces, "I bet they're jealous you see his dick more than they do."