#so this one i wanna complete ahead of time !!

[vamptizm]

i. MISSION JEALOUSY — p. bueckers.

pairing : paige bueckers x clover amar (oc)

synopsis : in which paige bueckers and clover amar, two uconn wbb stars, have an ongoing mission of making each other jealous and outdoing the other.

warnings : cuss words. sexual innuendos. no smut yet.

word count : 2.3k

note : i’m honestly only writing it as an oc because its easier to do for me, but you can use this as an x reader fic if you like idc

Paige Bueckers and Clover Amar had more in common than either of them would like to admit. Two sides of the same coin. Cocky, overly confident, Competitive and undeniably overprotective. Basketball was their life, a priority that had been cemented at the very top from an early age on. The rivalry between UConn’s two star players was never solely reserved for the court. In fact, one might say the times where the two interacted off-court, were the most intense.

The gym buzzed with the faint echoes of bouncing basketballs and the rhythmic squeak of sneakers against polished wood floors. Clover moved with precision as she stretched, her movements deliberate, her focus entirely on her body's rhythm. Her dark hair was pulled up, a few loose strands framing her sharp features. The short sleeves of her jersey revealed the intricate tattoos lining her arms and the hint of a design peeking from her neckline, adding an edge to her composed demeanor. 

She switched seamlessly into dribbling drills, her tattooed forearm flexing as she maintained complete control over the ball. Confidence radiated from her as she worked through the warm-up, her mind already preparing for the scrimmage ahead. Paige wasn't even on her radar—until her voice, laced with challenge, broke through the ambient noise.

"I hope we're not on the same team today," Paige said, her tone casual but her intent sharp as the glint in her eyes. She stood only a few feet away, spinning a ball lazily in one hand, her trademark smirk firmly in place.

Clover didn't look up immediately. Instead, she finished her stretch, bending forward with an air of indifference. Her voice was calm, but her words were edged with fire. "So do I. I wanna see you flat on your ass a couple of times today."

A sarcastic laugh escaped Paige, low enough that it could've been missed by anyone not tuned in to her. She leaned slightly closer, voice dropping as she muttered, just loud enough for Clover to catch it, "Sure you don't just wanna see my ass?"

Clover froze for half a second before straightening, a wicked grin curling her lips. She tilted her head, finally meeting Paige's gaze with an unbothered confidence that only made the air between them crackle more.

"Maybe," Clover replied, the single word dripping with nonchalance as she rolled her shoulders back and shifted into another stretch, purposefully turning away. The movement was subtle, but the way Paige's gaze lingered wasn't.

Clover's grin widened, though she kept it to herself. Let Paige think she was in control. For now, she could have her fun, but Clover would make sure it was her name on everyone's lips by the end of practice.

The sound of sneakers squeaking against the court, the rapid thuds of the ball, and shouts from teammates filled the gym as the scrimmage began. Clover and Paige stood on opposite ends of the court, their gazes locking briefly before the tip-off. Both wore identical smirks, their rivalry palpable to everyone present.

From the moment the game started, it was clear neither was holding back. Paige wasted no time driving toward the basket, weaving through defenders with her usual speed and finesse. Clover intercepted her at the paint, arms outstretched, forcing Paige to pull up for a contested mid-range jumper. The ball kissed the rim before bouncing out, and Clover snatched the rebound with a triumphant look.

"Better luck next time, Bueckers," Clover quipped as she dribbled down the court, her tone playful but cutting.

Paige jogged alongside her, the smirk on her face unwavering. "Don't get used to it. I've got range you can't even dream of."

Clover didn't respond—she didn't need to. With a sudden crossover, she left her defender stumbling and pulled up for a smooth three-pointer, her follow-through picture-perfect. The ball swished through the net, and Clover turned, shooting Paige a wink as she jogged back on defense.

Paige's teammates groaned, but she only shook her head, the corners of her mouth twitching upward.

Minutes later, Paige got her chance. She posted up against Clover on the block, their bodies colliding as Paige backed her down. Clover dug in, refusing to budge, but Paige was relentless, spinning off her shoulder and sinking a fadeaway jumper. She didn't even look at the ball as it swished through the net, her gaze locked on Clover's instead.

"Cute," Clover said, puckering her lips slightly. Her tone was flat, almost sarcastic. "But you're gonna have to try harder than that to impress me."

"I'm just getting started." Paige replied, already sprinting back on defense.

The banter continued as the game wore on, neither willing to let the other have the upper hand. Paige's quick drives and pinpoint passes were met with Clover's sharpshooting and scrappy defense, the two of them trading buckets and sly comments with equal intensity.

When Clover stole the ball from Paige in a full-court press, she couldn't resist a parting shot as she sprinted toward the hoop. "Guess those hands aren't as great as the hype, huh?" There was no way for the blonde to miss the implication.

Paige caught up just in time to block the layup, slapping the ball against the backboard. "Guess you'll just have to find out for yourself, Amar." she shot back, her voice laced with satisfaction.

Despite their constant back-and-forth, there was an undercurrent of respect in the way they moved around each other, pushing and testing each other's limits. Off the court, they might've been rivals, but on it, they brought out the best in each other—whether they'd admit it or not.

By the end of the scrimmage, both were drenched in sweat, their teammates huddled around the scoreboard to tally the points. Clover leaned on her knees, catching her breath, while Paige nudged her with an elbow.

"Admit it," Paige said, grinning through her exhaustion. "You're better when I'm guarding you."

Clover straightened, her cocky demeanor still intact despite the fatigue. "I'm always better, with or without you."

Paige laughed, shaking her head. "Keep telling yourself that, Amar."

The restaurant buzzed with the hum of conversation, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The team occupied a long table at the center of the room, the camaraderie usually electric during these dinners slightly muted tonight. Clover, seated near the middle of the table, absently pushed a forkful of pasta around her plate as her gaze flicked toward Paige. 

Paige sat across from her, a sly grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as her date—a redhead in a tight dress—leaned in closer. The girl's laugh was shrill, cutting through the chatter like nails on a chalkboard. Clover's jaw tightened as she caught Paige throwing a brief glance in her direction, the hint of a smirk playing on her lips as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

"You good, Clo?" Nika asked from beside her, nudging her shoulder lightly. 

"Never better," Clover replied, her tone cool and composed. She pushed her plate away slightly, glancing up just in time to catch the waitress approaching their table again. 

The blonde waitress, with her friendly yet slightly shy demeanor, stopped beside Clover, her gaze lingering longer than necessary. "How's everything tasting? Can I get you anything else?" she asked, her voice sweet and soft, a faint pink dusting her cheeks as she spoke directly to Clover. 

Clover leaned back casually, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Everything's great. But I think I'm missing something," she said, her voice dripping with playful charm. 

The waitress blinked, her blush deepening. "Oh? What's that?" 

"Dessert. But I think already found something much better." Clover replied, her eyes locking with the waitress's. 

The blonde's lips twitched into a shy smile, and she ducked her head slightly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Well, if there's anything else you need, just let me know," she said before walking away, her steps a little quicker than before. 

KK beside her let out a low whistle. "Damn, Clo. You didn't waste any time, huh?" 

Clover shrugged, her smirk widening. "What can I say? I've got a way with people." 

Across the table, Paige's hand tightened around her glass. Her date, oblivious, was saying something about an influencer trip to Miami, but Paige wasn't listening. Her eyes were fixed on Clover, watching the exchange with the waitress, the way Clover's gaze lingered a little too long, and the deliberate brush of fingers when the menu was handed over earlier. 

The redhead beside Paige tugged at her arm, her bright red nails curling around Paige's wrist. "Babe, you're not even listening to me," she pouted, her voice high-pitched and grating. Clover had to hold herself back from snorting at the pet-name.

Paige forced a small smile, pulling her attention back. "Sorry. What were you saying?" 

The redhead sighed dramatically but didn't notice the subtle shift in Paige's gaze, which darted back toward Clover. 

Clover, sensing the eyes on her, turned her head slightly, catching Paige's annoyed expression. She smirked and raised her glass in a mock toast, mouthing, 'Enjoying the show?' 

Paige's jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing slightly before she turned back to her date, the irritation bubbling under her carefully composed exterior. 

The dinner had dragged on far longer than Clover would've liked. The initial awkwardness of Paige bringing her date to what was supposed to be a team dinner had somehow managed to get worse. Amelia—or was it Emily?—sat perched beside Paige, her body angled as if she wanted to detach herself from the table entirely. She barely engaged with the team, only giving short, clipped answers to any attempts at conversation. 

"So, Amelia," one of their teammates, Azzi, ventured cautiously, a polite smile on her face. "What do you do? Are you a student here, too?" 

"I'm studying marketing," Amelia replied flatly, barely sparing Azzi a glance before leaning back toward Paige. "But I really think I'm gonna go into PR after graduation." 

Azzi's smile faltered as she glanced at Clover, who offered a subtle shrug before turning her attention to her drink. 

Across the table, Paige shifted in her seat, looking slightly uncomfortable as Amelia chattered on about some influencer she'd recently met. Clover's jaw tightened, her irritation growing. It wasn't just the way Amelia monopolized Paige's attention; it was how disinterested she seemed in everyone else, as though the team wasn't worth her time. Clover was someone who was very protective of her loves ones, especially someone as sweet and kind hearted as Azzi Fudd. There was no way in hell she'd let anyone disrespect her.

"Hey, sorry—what was your name again?" Clover cut in suddenly, her tone pleasant but her eyes sharp. She leaned forward slightly, setting her elbows on the table as if genuinely trying to remember. Paige's eyes couldn't help but drift towards the girl's now accentuated cleavage, her breast valley tattoo barely visible. "Emily, right?" 

"It's Amelia," the redhead corrected, her brows knitting together in clear irritation. 

Clover feigned a look of realization, nodding slowly. "Right... Amelia. Pretty name." She leaned back against her chair, crossing her arms. "You know, Amelia, don't you think that when you're out with a group of people, it's polite to at least acknowledge their existence?" Her smile didn't waver, but the sharpness in her voice was unmistakable. "Paige isn't gonna run away, honey. I promise." 

Amelia's lips parted in shock, her face turning an angry shade of red. "Excuse me?" 

Clover shrugged, her tone light as if she hadn't just dropped a verbal grenade. "It's just something to think about. Right, Paigey?" She turned her gaze to Paige, her smirk growing. "You're not gonna ditch the poor girl, are you?" 

Paige's glare could've cut through steel, but Clover didn't falter. The rest of the team watched the exchange, most of them trying—and failing—to suppress their amusement. Aubrey hid her face behind her drink, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter, while Aaliyah pretended to look at her phone, her lips pressed tightly together. 

Amelia looked to Paige, clearly waiting for her to jump to her defense. "Paige?" 

But Paige didn't say anything. She sighed, running a hand through her hair, and leaned back in her chair. "Clover's just being Clover," she muttered, clearly unwilling to get involved. 

That was the final straw for Amelia. She stood abruptly, grabbing her purse. "Unbelievable," she hissed, glaring at Paige before storming out of the restaurant in a dramatic huff. 

The table fell silent for a moment before Ayanna snorted, breaking into laughter. "Clover, that was ruthless." 

Clover grinned, unbothered. "I just call it like I see it." 

Paige shot her a look but didn't say anything, clearly annoyed but unwilling to escalate the situation further. 

As the night wound down and the team began gathering their things, Clover reached for the bill. "I've got it," she said firmly, waving off anyone who tried to chip in. 

The waitress returned to the table to collect the check, her usual professional demeanor softening when she looked at Clover. She slipped a napkin onto the table beside her, leaning in slightly. "Thanks for coming in tonight," she said softly, her cheeks flushed as she smiled at Clover. "Call me if you ever want dessert." 

Clover chuckled, slipping the napkin into her pocket as the waitress walked away, her steps quick and purposeful. 

Paige, who hadn't missed a second of the interaction, scoffed loudly. "Seriously?" 

"What?" Clover replied innocently, trailing behind the team as they exited the restaurant. "Can't help it if people like me, Bueckers." 

Paige rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "So fucking annoying." 

Clover smirked, her tone teasing. "I know you are, but what am I?" 

The tension between them was palpable as they walked out into the night, the unspoken rivalry simmering just beneath the surface, ready to ignite again at any moment.

[bucketbueckers]

accounting - azzi fudd

pairing: azzi fudd x fem!reader (no use of y/n) wc: 2.8k synopsis: you're watching kk and the rest of the team fool around on live when azzi fudd walks in asking for an accounting tutor. deciding to humor it, you're surprised to find that azzi was completely serious, and even more surprised when your offer leads to something more between the two of you. notes: in honor of azzi fudd hoops last night - i was supposed to have this up before the game but i forgot i had a three hour lab and unfortunately i will not write fanfiction in the middle of the university food court. first tumblr post, lmk if we're rockin w it 🙂‍↕️

You’re settling into bed to unwind for the night when you get the TikTok notification.

KK Arnold has gone live!

For the better part of your day, you’ve had your nose in the books, trying to get ahead of your weekly homework. You have a terrible habit of letting most of it pile up during the week and finishing it all over the weekend. As an accounting major, you didn’t really have fun weekend plans, anyway, but it would be nice to lay in bed all day and not worry about something that was due at 11:59. You only had three classes today: managerial accounting, intro to auditing, and intermediate accounting. It wasn’t a rigorous schedule by any means; you were done and out of classes by lunchtime, but after two and a half hours of listening to your professors drone on, you were ready for the nap you couldn’t afford to take due to your piles of homework. 

Seeing the live notification is enough to remind you that you aren’t really that tired, so you click on it. KK’s face fills the screen and she’s unboxing Crumbl cookies. You say a silent prayer for the girls – Crumbl tasted terrible and that was a hill you were willing to die on. Paige sat behind KK, with Ayanna, Jana, Kayla, and a few other players milling about off-camera. For a painful few minutes, KK tries her best to get everyone’s attention so she can narrate about whatever monstrosity of a cookie they’re eating, but everyone’s laughing too hard to fully lock in.

Ayanna leaves to get a knife so KK can cut the cookies evenly. KK entertains the live while Ayanna is away, singing, chatting, and interacting with commenters. When Ayanna finally returns, she has the knife, but Azzi also trails behind her - a fact that the live is definitely appreciative of. “Oh, my God, look who it is!” KK intones in a shrill voice, much to Azzi’s clear bewilderment. You’ve never seen an expression of such confusion on someone’s face before. “It’s Azzi Fudd!”

Azzi buries her face in her hands and moves off-camera as everyone laughs. KK’s voice softens as she asks, “Azzi, wanna try a cookie?”

“No,” Azzi whines.

KK’s entire expression shifts, and admittedly, yours does, too. It’s no secret that Azzi was almost nationally known as the people’s princess. Perhaps you’d have to fight someone. You hope that no one’s actually done something wrong to her – first of all, you can’t even fathom the idea. It’d be like kicking a puppy. Second of all, you were just someone, along with 13,000 other viewers, watching the team interact behind a screen. You were sure that Azzi’s team would handle business, although you were willing to step in if needed, too, even if you stood a solid six inches shorter than Azzi herself. “What happened?” KK asks. Paige echoes her question.

“Ask the live if anyone can tutor me in accounting,” Azzi says forlornly.

You don’t think she’s serious until KK turns back just in time for the cowboy hat to return. “Hey, y’all! Is there anybody who’s really good at accounting for Azzi Fudd? Please send help. If you do have someone who’s really good at accounting, please DM me at k2times TikTok or at kamoreaarnold Instagram or at azzifudd Instagram! Thank yew.” The room dissolves into giggles as KK continues, “And if you DM me with edits or anything else but accounting help, I will block! Thank yew.”

You have the time today, so you switch over to Instagram as the live continues in the background, and you go to Azzi’s page and hit the Message option. You doubt she’ll see it, let alone respond, but as an accounting major, it’s basically your civic duty to help those in need, especially since you know these classes are hell.

hey do u actually need accounting help? i major in it!

Satisfied, you click back over to the live just in time for Azzi to comment, “KK, I might actually have a tutor,” she says in near disbelief. You think nothing of it as KK turns her head, humming at Azzi. “Wait, I think she’s in my class.”

That manages to catch your attention. Sure, you’re watching a live with a couple thousand people on it, but how many of those people are accounting students at UConn who happen to share a class with Azzi Fudd?

An Instagram notification pops up on your screen as Paige leaves the camera frame to most likely peer over Azzi’s shoulder. You’re shocked again to see Azzi has DM’ed you back.

Yes please this homework is killing me Are you in ACCT3201 with Cansler??? I recognize you

Discovering just how unobservant you are should not come as a great surprise. Apparently, you’ve been sharing a class with Azzi Fudd this entire semester and you didn’t even realize it. This is easily the most embarrassing moment of your entire life.

i am i can’t believe i didn’t know u were in it i’m a lot better at accounting than i am at paying attention, i promise

This draws a giggle from Azzi that you can hear over the live. It makes a flush rise on your cheeks. The fact that Azzi Fudd knows who you are combined with the fact she’s laughing at your jokes is enough for a feeling of anticipation to twist in your chest. This is your life now, apparently.

“Azzi is cheesing so bad,” KK teases. You can’t help but feel a little pride at that. “Who’s chatting her up right now? Lemme invite you. Accounting rizz is insane work.”

“Don’t scare away my tutor,” Azzi grumbles, coming back into view of the camera. True to KK’s words, a faint blush has settled on her cheeks. Feeling far too smug, you comment on the live, ‘calling it rizz is crazy, i’m just helping the people.’ Azzi’s eyes scan the screen before rolling slightly. “Look at what you did, KK.”

“Is that her?” KK shrieks. She leans in closer to the screen, blocking out much of the background. “Oh, she fine. Lock in, Azzi; she can help you with more than accounting.”

At that, you and Azzi both blush a deep scarlet red and Azzi turns on her heel. “Goodbye, KK!” The room dissolves into rambunctious laughter as Azzi walks out, calling, “I’m going to finish my homework!”

A moment passes before Azzi messages you again.

I’m so sorry about KK, she’s feral

You swipe away from the live again, grinning slightly. In your DMs, the typing bubbles appear for a few short moment. You heart her most recent message in the meantime.

Will you please help me? I genuinely don’t understand what I’m doing wrong

Yes, you’ve spent most of the day in classes and doing homework. Yes, you’re tired. Yes, you really only joined the live to unwind. But when Azzi asks for help, you can’t really say no to her.

of course, are u working on this week’s homework set?

Her affirmative response is swift, telling you what she’s having trouble with. Your fingers hesitate on your screen, trying to figure out how to put your thoughts into words before settling.

i know this is incredibly forward but would u want to ft? i can explain better verbally

Azzi sends you her number. After tonight’s events, you really shouldn’t be surprised anymore, but you can’t help it. Azzi is a nationally (and internationally) recognized college basketball player and, until now, you were just a girl who watched her team’s TikTok lives and cheered in the student section. Azzi had seemed so untouchable, by virtue of her celebrity and your lack thereof; it’s hard to believe you’re this close to her now, even if it’s just to help her with accounting homework.

The two of you talk well into the night, even hours after Azzi submits her problem sets successfully and she understands the material. You feel like you get to see a side of her so rarely seen by other people who aren’t her teammates. She’s softer, with a beaming smile on her face when she finally understands a difficult concept. There’s something so alluring about the way she speaks that you can’t help but listen to every single thing that comes out of her mouth, ranging from her frustrated rants to the smoothness of her giggle. The lamplight reflects off of the lenses of the glasses perched on her nose and you think she’s so incredibly beautiful – bare-faced and slightly delirious from staying up so late.

When the two of you finally hang up half past three, you can’t wipe the smile off your face, and somehow, you just know that this is the start of something new.

From then on, your friendship with Azzi all but flourishes. She’s incredibly sweet, soft-spoken, and so deliberate in the way she moves and speaks to you. When your next accounting class rolls around, she finds the seat next to yours, asking to sit there with an almost shy expression. When there’s lulls in the lecture, you entertain her with jokes, drawing red-cheeked giggles that she has to stifle. You’re almost like her personal TA, sitting next to her and clarifying concepts that she doesn’t understand. It helps you, too; the best study advice you’d ever received was to teach it to someone else. 

Your friendship progresses outside of the lecture room and outside of your texts. You both spend a lot of time in the library, studying in peace together or enjoying lunch in each other's company. You always thought Azzi was gorgeous, but now that you know her on a far more personal level, falling for her was a near guarantee. The far-away admiration transformed into something pure, genuine. You couldn’t imagine Azzi returning those feelings — she’s far too busy, too committed to ball — so you keep your rapidly growing crush close to your chest. 

You’ve always showed up to the UConn games, though there’s something distinctly different about them now. Azzi was never one for grand celebrations or trash talk in the way Paige was. She was intentional and lowkey, which is why you feel like you could float when she makes direct eye contact with you in the student section, throwing up three fingers to celebrate a particularly deep three. It’s why you cheese when she finds you after the game, after she’s showered and changed, and asks if you want to get ice cream with her. The better question was how could you refuse?

Azzi deliberates between vanilla and cookie dough for a long while before settling on the latter. Even as the clerk fills her bowl, she stares at the the vanilla and your choice of ice cream becomes obvious. Azzi stares at you as the clerk fills your bowl with vanilla. “What? It’s my favorite flavor,” you lie, and her lips quirk up as she studies you. 

“Said literally no one ever,” she says wryly. The clerk hands you the bowl and Azzi swipes her card before you have the chance to even contemplate otherwise. When you stare at her in disbelief, her smile widens and all fight leaves your body. What were you supposed to do about that? You were a puddle for pretty women — a puddle for Azzi, honestly — and your resolve should be commended for maintaining months of friendship with Azzi. 

The two of you find a secluded booth towards the back of the ice cream shop. Azzi shares her midterm grade — a solid 100, and you whistle lowly. “I got an 89,” you say, not hurt by it at all. As long as it was above an 80, you could care less. “You sure you still need me?”

Azzi swirls her ice cream around her bowl, suddenly quiet. The realization dawns on you immediately. Your words were meant to be a joke, but the truth to them stuns you. You really hoped Azzi would say, ‘of course not, it’s not like that!’ but her silence keeps you guessing. 

“I have a confession to make,” she says after a beat, finally glancing up at you. The vulnerability and nervousness makes your heart fall out of your ass. “Promise it won’t make anything weird?”

You open your mouth just to close it again. You clear your throat. “Promise, Az,” you say finally. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” she says quickly. “Um, so here’s the thing. I struggled a lot with the first problem set. You know, the one I needed the tutor for?” You nod, confused by her words. “You helped a lot. And, like, I haven’t really needed actual tutoring in weeks. I just really liked spending time with you.” You blink at her. She stares at you right back, brows furrowed with guilt and her doe eyes wide. “I’m sorry. You must feel like I wasted your time.”

At that, you can’t help but laugh, and Azzi pouts. “Az. I thought you were about to dump me,” you explain. “Plus, I kinda figured after a while we were just like, studying together, and not me actually tutoring.”

She sighs, burying her face in her hands. You laugh again, pushing your leftover ice cream towards her. Azzi glances up again, her eyes soft and fond. “I guess I just wanted an excuse for you to stick around.”

“You never needed one,” you tell her honestly, and a blush creeps up her neck. 

“You’re not really picking up what I’m putting down, are you?”

Her words almost make you recoil. It’s no secret at this point that you can be a little oblivious, but her words make your heart skip a beat. “Az, I have no idea what you’re putting down,” you admit.

“So, I just admitted to you that I liked spending time with you and lied about needing study help just so I’d have an excuse to hang out with you,” Azzi confirms. “We are sitting here, alone, after a game while my teammates celebrate at Ted’s. All of that, and you have no idea what I’m putting down?”

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. “Oh,” you say smartly. 

“Yeah.”

“So, you like me?” you ask just to be one hundred percent sure. 

She smiles at you. You’re certain your heart almost stops beating. “How could I not?” she asks like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “You make me laugh. You’re always so patient with me, you make me feel seen — like I can just be myself. It’s… hard to find something genuine like this. You don’t expect anything from me.”

“I just want you to be happy,” you say simply. 

Her eyes confirm everything for you. You’re not observant, sure, but your main priority has always been what was directly in front of you. And right now, it’s hard to focus on anything that’s not Azzi. Azzi’s eyes are so soft, kinder than anything you’ve ever seen before. They hold so much understanding but there’s also a silent plea of let this be mutual that you’re too happy to give into. 

“I’ve been falling for you for a while,” you admit, and her face brightens. Your shoulders feel lighter; carrying around your feelings has burdened you, but if it’s the price you had to pay to make sure Azzi felt comfortable and that she could have friendships without people taking advantage of her celebrity, then so be it. You’d bear a lot more for her if it ever came down to it. “I kept it to myself for a while,” you continued. “You deserve normal. A friendship without expectations. But, God, Az, how could anyone not fall for you?”

Azzi’s cheeks flush a pretty red. You can’t help but smile at her, growing a little braver, and you slide your hand across the table. She wastes no time before intertwining your fingers together, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. 

She walks you home that night, refusing to let go of you until you’re halfway through your doorstep. She stops you; her height would be intimidating if you didn’t know she was the sweetest person to ever walk the earth. “Can I…” She trails off, her hands gentle on your waist. 

You don’t need much more convincing — you loop your arms around her neck and tug her down to your height, planting your lips on hers with a softness that she eagerly reciprocates. You can taste the vanilla on her lips, the sweetness of the cookie dough, and the promise of something distinctly reminiscent of Azzi Fudd. You’re suddenly thankful for KK’s stupid live, for Crumbl cookie, for the accounting class you shared together. It’s all led you to where you are now, in Azzi’s arms outside of your apartment, overcome with the knowledge that all of this is so new, but you have everything you could have possibly wanted.

(You ask her to officially be your girlfriend two weeks after that, having been on three dates since — it’s only after you pop the question and the two of you are settling in to watch a movie that she admits to you the real reason she was struggling so bad with the problem sets was because she’d spend entire lecture periods staring at you. You roll your eyes, feeling inexplicably cared for in a way you haven’t experienced before Azzi, and your only true response to her confession is the lingering kiss you place on her lips.)

[the-winter-spider]

Waiting Room | Part Two

Bucky x reader (as always )

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Angst i guess sorta

A/N: So this is the next part to waiting room that was suppose to be just a One Shot but in easily convinced lol and I didn't really have a direction for the story to go in and this is where I landed, so hope you enjoy. There will be maybe another part or two so I can wrap it up. 

The night was cool as you walked away from the compound, the silence almost soothing despite the ache in your chest. You hadn’t made any plans, hadn’t packed anything more than a single bag. You just knew you couldn’t stay in that place anymore—not with the memories pressing in around you, with the sense that every hallway, every room, was echoing with what used to be between you and Bucky.

The city lights were ahead of you, casting faint glows against the dark sky, and for the first time, you felt completely unmoored. Your thoughts tangled in every step you took, as if each pace was a step away from the life you had built with the Avengers, and more painfully, from Bucky.

Hours passed as you wandered the city, barely aware of where you were going. You ended up at a small motel on the edge of town, paying cash for a room that barely had any light, just a bed with thin sheets and an old TV on a dresser. The emptiness of the room felt like it mirrored the hollow ache in your chest.

You set your bag down on the bed, letting out a sigh as you sank onto the edge, staring at the wall as thoughts of Bucky washed over you in waves. Images of him smiling, his quiet laughter, the way he’d hold your hand when no one else was around—all of it clung to you, heavy and unrelenting.

Pulling out your phone, you scrolled through your contacts to his name, thumb hovering over it. You knew he wasn’t waiting for your call; he’d made that clear. But part of you, the part that still remembered what it felt like to be wrapped in his arms, wanted him to pick up, to tell you this was all just a mistake.

Instead, you tossed the phone aside, burying your face in your hands as tears began to fall. You wanted to scream, to do anything that would make this feeling go away. The anger, the heartbreak, the deep sense of loss—the betrayal it all felt like it was crushing you.

The next morning, you took a breath and tried to piece together a plan. If Bucky wanted nothing to do with you, if the team was moving on without you, maybe it was time for you to do the same. You didn’t know how, but you’d figure it out. And maybe, someday, the memories would hurt a little less.

Days turned into weeks, and you managed to stay under the radar. You took on a few odd jobs here and there, avoiding anywhere that felt remotely familiar. You kept your phone turned off most days, keeping a low profile as you tried to settle into a new rhythm.

But at night, alone in that tiny motel room, everything came flooding back. The emptiness, the loss of the life you’d left behind, and the hollow ache that reminded you of the man you’d once thought would be by your side forever. You didn’t wanna feel anything at all anymore.

The motel was your base for now, a temporary haven between jobs. You knew eventually you would have to move but for now the dull hum of a broken fluorescent light above the bed was your only company most nights. You’d buried your old life, the Avengers, and everything you once fought for. Your existence was pared down to survival and the cold efficiency of violence.

You used old contacts from your past—people you’d hoped never to need again. Mercenaries, informants, shadowy figures from the underworld who didn’t ask questions as long as you delivered. And you did. Each contract was a blur, each mission a mechanical task you completed without hesitation or remorse. Slowly you were becoming less of who you were and more of what you were supposed to be before him.

Your skills made you valuable. Assassinations, high-stakes retrievals, contract killings—you took them all. It was work, and it kept you moving. You didn’t feel anything anymore, not the fear, not the guilt, not even the satisfaction of a clean job. You became a ghost, slipping in and out of places, leaving behind a trail of red.

Every kill was precise, methodical. You didn’t stop to consider who your targets were or what they’d done. The moral compass you once clung to was shattered, left in pieces back at the compound. You moved like a machine, your thoughts dulled by the monotony of violence. The whispers of self-destruction were your only companion now.

Weeks blurred into months, the days bleeding into each other. You didn’t follow the news, didn’t check your phone, didn’t want to know what was happening in the world you’d left behind. You didn’t see the press conference Tony had to hold, standing stoic as reporters peppered him with questions about your sudden disappearance.

“Agent Y/N has taken a leave of absence,” he’d said, his voice cool, calculated. “For personal reasons.”

That was all he gave them. No details, no promises of your return. When the questions turned toward your mental health, your stability, Tony’s jaw tightened, and he ended the briefing. Behind closed doors, the team was scrambling, doing everything they could to track you down. But you were a ghost, and ghosts didn’t want to be found.

In the quiet moments between jobs, you sat in the shadows of your rented room, staring at the ceiling. The weight of your kills didn’t register anymore; it was just a tally in your head, numbers climbing higher each week. You didn’t care who you were working for, as long as they paid and kept you busy. The emptiness was consuming, but you welcomed it. It was better than the pain.

You stopped dreaming. Stopped thinking about him, about any of them. The warmth of Bucky’s touch, the safety of his arms around you—it was a memory you refused to let surface. You buried it deep, alongside every other part of yourself that once cared, once felt.

When you weren’t working, you spent your time in dingy bars or cheap motels, drowning in silence. The weight of your solitude was your only companion. You avoided mirrors, avoided looking at the hollow shell you’d become. It didn’t matter anymore. You didn’t matter anymore.

Back at the compound, things weren’t much better. The team was holding together by a thread, every day marked by your absence. They didn’t talk about it openly, but everyone felt the weight of the void you’d left behind. Tony buried himself in his work, throwing up defensive sarcasm whenever your name was mentioned. Steve was more reserved, quiet, his concern etched into every line of his face, his thoughts a constant whirl of guilt, of what if, he was your leader, your friend, your family he should have done better. Natasha, Clint and Sam worked tirelessly to trace your steps, but you were always one step ahead, your trail going cold each time they got close.

Bucky, though—Bucky was a different story. He was unraveling. The stoic front he tried to maintain crumbled more each day. He’d catch glimpses of your room, still left untouched, and it felt like a dagger in his chest. Every lead that turned up empty, every mission he went on without you, only deepened the chasm of guilt and regret.

He didn’t show it around the others, but late at night, when the compound was quiet, he’d sit in the dark, gripping his dog tags as though they could anchor him. He replayed every moment, every word he’d said to you, the pain in your eyes when he told you it was “for the better.” He’d thought he was protecting you, sparing you from a life tethered to his darkness. But all he’d done was push you into your own.

Meanwhile, you continued to slip further into the shadows, your humanity fading with each passing day. The girl who once fought alongside Earth’s mightiest heroes was gone. Now, you were just a weapon, a tool for hire, drowning in blood and regret.

And you didn’t care if you ever came back.

The common room was silent, the atmosphere suffocating. The team sat around the dining table, their plates mostly untouched. It hadn’t been the same since you left—no, since you vanished almost a year ago. Conversations were hollow, laughter a distant memory. Every mission, every meeting, carried the weight of your absence.

Bucky sat at the far end of the table, his eyes fixed on his plate, though he hadn’t touched his food. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the clink of utensils against ceramic as Sam and Natasha picked at their meals. Steve was deep in thought, brows furrowed, while Tony sipped at a cold cup of coffee, his usual bravado long since dulled.

Suddenly, Tony’s tech pad beeped, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at the screen, his eyes narrowing as he read the data. Without a word, he stood abruptly and made his way to the common room, his pace quick and determined.

“Guys,” he said, voice sharp as he entered, the pad clutched tightly in his hand. The urgency in his tone snapped everyone to attention. “I think we’ve got something.”

The team immediately straightened, all eyes on him. Bucky’s heart lurched in his chest, a flicker of hope and dread surging through him.

“What is it?” Steve asked, his voice steady but tense.

Tony didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he tapped on the pad, and a hologram appeared above the table—a blurry snapshot of surveillance footage. The image was grainy, taken in some dimly lit warehouse, but there was no mistaking the figure in the frame.

It was you.

Your hair was shorter, your face leaner and paler than they remembered. Blood spattered your cheeks and clothes, your eyes sharp and cold. You looked like a ghost, hollowed out and deadly, a shadow of the person they once knew.

The room went deadly quiet, the weight of the image sinking in. Natasha leaned forward, her jaw tightening. Sam cursed under his breath, while Steve’s grip on the edge of the table tightened until his knuckles turned white.

“Is there video footage?” Steve asked, his voice low, barely concealing the mix of hope and fear in his tone.

Tony nodded grimly. “FRIDAY, play the video.”

The hologram shifted, and the grainy footage began to play. The scene unfolded in a dingy, run-down warehouse, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights. Armed men moved through the space, clearly preparing for some sort of deal. But then you appeared, stepping out of the shadows like a wraith.

You were fast, efficient, and terrifyingly calm. Without hesitation, you took out each man with precision—gunshots, blades, hand-to-hand combat. It didn’t matter how many came at you; they all fell. The blood spattered across your face only made your pale skin look more ghostly, more detached from humanity.

What shook them most wasn’t the violence—it was you. Your expression never wavered, your eyes cold and emotionless. It was as if you were on autopilot, a machine programmed to kill. Even when a bullet whizzed past your face, barely missing you and sending a strand of hair flying, you didn’t flinch. You simply moved on to the next target, cutting through them like they were nothing.

Bucky’s stomach churned as he watched. His hands gripped the edge of the table, his breathing shallow. He could barely process what he was seeing. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t the person he’d loved, the person he’d pushed away to protect. This was someone else entirely—a hollow shell, deadly and unrecognizable.

When the video ended, the silence in the room was deafening. Tony rubbed a hand over his face, his usual sarcasm replaced with grim resolve. “That’s the most recent hit we’ve got. It’s from a week ago.”

Steve was the first to speak, his voice strained. “She’s not just surviving out there. She’s… she’s lost herself.”

Natasha crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. “She’s always been a fighter, but this? She’s not fighting for anything anymore. She’s just… existing.”

Sam shook his head, his voice low. “She didn’t even blink when that bullet came at her. It’s like she doesn’t care if she lives or dies.”

Bucky pushed himself back from the table, standing abruptly. “We need to find her, I got to find her” he said, his voice rough, barely containing the storm of emotions threatening to spill over. “Now.”

Steve nodded, his resolve hardening. “Agreed. We’ve waited long enough.”

Tony tapped on his pad, pulling up a map. “I’ve got the warehouse location. It’s a start, but if she’s smart—and we all know she is—she’s already moved on.”

Natasha stood, her eyes locked on the map. “Then we track her. We use everything we’ve got.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, his mind racing with thoughts of you. The footage replayed in his head, the cold, detached look in your eyes, the way you moved without hesitation or fear. He knew he’d pushed you away to protect you, but now… now it felt like he’d only sent you spiraling further into darkness.

And he wasn’t sure if he could bring you back. But he’d die trying.

The hologram of the warehouse lingered in the air, casting a dull blue glow that accentuated the tension in the room. Tony continued scrolling through surveillance feeds, his movements precise but edged with frustration. No one spoke at first, the weight of your absence hanging over them like a storm cloud.

Sam finally broke the silence, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “Where is she even finding out about these deals? She’s not exactly walking into a coffee shop and picking up intel from strangers.”

Clint, seated at the far end of the table, narrowed his eyes, his mind already turning over possibilities. “Maybe old contacts?” His gaze shifted to Natasha, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, and her face was set in a mask of unreadable tension.

She didn’t look at him immediately. When she did, her eyes were distant, filled with memories she rarely allowed to surface. “Yeah,” she said quietly, almost reluctantly. “That’s likely.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Someone from your Red Room days?”

Natasha hesitated, her jaw tightening as she nodded. “Before SHIELD. Before the Avengers.” Her voice was cold, clinical, the tone of someone recounting a story they wished wasn’t their own. “There’s a guy… a fixer. He operated out of Eastern Europe, connected to black market arms deals, high-profile hits, anything illegal you can think of. If she’s working for him now…” She trailed off, swallowing hard.

Sam leaned forward, frowning. “Anything you’d like to share with the class, Nat? Because this feels like something we should’ve known before.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, her gaze flickering toward Clint before settling on the table. “Before SHIELD, before Clint and I found her… she was lost. When she escaped the Red Room, she had nothing—no resources, no one to turn to. This guy took her in, gave her jobs, gave her a reason to keep moving. But it wasn’t a life. It was survival, barely.”

Clint leaned in, his voice lower now, as though he didn’t want to disturb the fragile truths being unearthed. “She was in deep. Mercenary work, hits, anything he wanted. She carried everything she owned in a backpack. She was running on scraps and rage. And the person she was back then compared to the one we know now…” He shook his head. “Night and day.”

Natasha’s expression darkened. “She was like a machine. On autopilot. He kept her that way with modified Red Room mind control.” Her voice softened, though her words cut like a blade. “Not enough to erase her, but just enough to suppress doubt, hesitation. Enough to make her compliant.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Bucky, standing slightly apart from the others, stared at the hologram of your face, his jaw clenched. His chest ached, a sick mixture of guilt and disbelief twisting in his gut.

Tony’s voice broke the quiet. “That wasn’t in her file.”

Natasha smirked bitterly. “Of course it wasn’t. Fury redacted it. He thought it would protect her if it ever came up.”

Clint’s voice dropped further, the weight of the memory heavy in his tone. “When Nat and I got her out, it was like detoxing someone from a drug. She fought us every step of the way. We had to tie her down to keep her from running back to him.”

Natasha nodded grimly. “She didn’t sleep, didn’t eat unless we forced her to. She was reciting mission protocols in her sleep like she was still under their control. It took months to bring her back to herself. And even then…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Even then, it was fragile.”

Steve’s eyes shifted to Bucky, whose hands were gripping the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles were white. “Buck, did she ever tell you any of this?”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged slightly, his face shadowed with pain. He shook his head, his voice hoarse. “No. Not like that.” He paused, swiping a hand over his face as he blinked away tears he couldn’t stop. “She… she never pushed me to talk about my past. She let me open up in my own time, my own way.” He let out a shaky breath. “I thought… I thought she’d do the same eventually. And she did, bits and pieces. But it was always vague, like she didn’t want me to see just how bad it was.”

He looked back at the hologram, the image of your face burning into his mind. “She risked her life for me, over and over again. And I didn’t even know the extent of what she’d been through.” His voice cracked. “She deserved better than that.”

“And now,” Natasha said softly, her eyes fixed on him, “she’s back in it.”

Bucky’s head dropped, his fists clenching as he whispered, “Maybe worse this time. She’s not just surviving—she’s destroying herself. And it’s my fault.”

“Buck,” Steve said gently, but Bucky shook his head.

“I thought I was protecting her,” Bucky said, his voice louder now, trembling with emotion. “I thought pushing her away would keep her safe. But all I did was push her right back into the darkness she fought so hard to escape.”

Natasha’s voice softened further, though it carried an edge of warning. “If she’s with him again, he won’t hesitate to use that mind control on her. And if he has… there’s no telling how far she’ll go before she burns out.”

Tony paced, rubbing his temple. “We need to find this guy. Shut him down. If she’s working for him, she won’t stop until someone makes her.”

Steve straightened, his face hardening with resolve. “Then we find him. Find out where he’s operating now.”

Clint nodded, pulling out his tablet. “I can dig up some old intel. He moved a lot, but if he’s still running the same kind of jobs, I can find a pattern.”

Natasha glanced at Bucky, her tone quieter now. “We find him, and we find her. But she’s not coming back willingly, Bucky.”

Bucky lifted his head, his eyes dark and resolute. “I don’t care how far gone she is. She’s still in there, and I’m not giving up on her.” His voice dropped, almost to a whisper. “She has to be.”

Tony tapped the screen again, zooming in on the hologram of your face. “Then we better move fast. Because from the looks of it, she’s already gone too far.”

The team exchanged grim looks, the unspoken weight of what lay ahead settling over them. For Bucky, though, there was no hesitation. No doubt. He would bring you back, no matter what it took.

The quinjet hummed softly as it cut through the night sky, a stark contrast to the tension filling the cabin. The team was locked in silent focus, each member mentally preparing for what they might find at their destination. Natasha sat at the controls, her face unreadable, though her grip on the steering controls was tighter than usual. Clint was beside her, reviewing maps and old intel on the fixer, his expression grim.

Bucky sat alone, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His metal hand flexed and clenched rhythmically, the only outward sign of the storm raging inside him. His thoughts churned relentlessly, replaying every moment since the breakup, every mission where he’d chosen to keep his distance, every chance he had to reach out and didn’t.

Steve, seated across from him, finally broke the silence. “We’ll get her back, Buck,” he said quietly, his voice steady but reassuring. “She’s still in there. We’ll bring her home.”

Bucky didn’t look up, his jaw tightening. His voice was low, almost a whisper. “And what if we don’t?” His eyes flicked up to meet Steve’s, and they were filled with a raw vulnerability that Steve hadn’t seen in years. “What if she’s too far gone, Steve? I thought I was protecting her, keeping her safe by pushing her away. But all I did was shove her right back into the darkness.”

Steve sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “You did what you thought was right. You were trying to protect her from getting hurt.”

Bucky let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “And now she’s out there, risking her life every day because I made her believe she wasn’t worth saving.” He paused, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know what I’ll do if we can’t bring her back. If she’s too far gone…Steve if we cant get her back….”

Steve reached out, placing a firm hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She’s not gone, Buck. She’s still in there. We’ve seen her come back from worse, and she’s stronger than you think.”

Bucky’s eyes fell back to the floor, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. “I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me. Hell, I’m not sure I can forgive myself.”

Natasha’s voice cut through the cabin, calm but commanding. “We’re coming up on the last known location of the fixer. This isn’t a guarantee, but it’s our best shot.” She glanced back at Bucky, her expression softer than usual. “You’ll get your chance to fix this, Barnes. But you have to be ready. She’s not the same person you knew.”

Bucky nodded, his resolve hardening. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll do whatever I have to.”

The quinjet began its descent, the lights of a small, industrial city coming into view below. Natasha expertly landed on the outskirts of the city, near an abandoned factory that matched the coordinates from her old intel. The team geared up quickly, their movements efficient and quiet.

As they approached the factory, Clint pulled up the blueprints on his tablet. “Looks like a standard setup—main entrance, back exit, and a few access points on the roof. If he’s still using this place, he’ll have guards posted. We’ll have to go in quiet.”

Natasha nodded. “I’ll take point with Clint. Steve, Bucky, cover the rear. Sam, Tony you’re our eyes in the sky.”

Bucky didn’t say a word as they moved into position, his focus entirely on the task ahead. His grip on his rifle was tight, his breathing controlled. But inside, his mind raced with what they might find.

As they entered the factory, the air was thick with dust and the faint smell of oil and metal. The sound of distant machinery hummed through the walls, but the place seemed otherwise deserted.

Clint scanned the area with his thermal scope, whispering, “Two guards up ahead, near the control room.”

Natasha nodded, and within moments, the guards were taken out silently, their bodies crumpling to the floor without a sound. The team moved deeper into the facility, tension building with every step.

Finally, they reached the main floor—a vast, open space filled with crates and scattered equipment. And there, in the center of the room, was a man seated at a desk, his back to them.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “That’s him.”

The fixer turned slowly, as if he’d been expecting them. His face was lined with age, but his eyes were sharp, calculating. He smiled, a cold, predatory grin. “Well, well. The Avengers. What an unexpected pleasure.”

Bucky stepped forward, his voice low and dangerous. “Where is she?”

The fixer chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Ah, you must mean out little shadow, our ghost. Quite the asset, isn’t she? A real work of art, that one.”

Bucky’s fists clenched, and Steve put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. “Where is she?” Steve demanded.

The fixer sighed, feigning boredom. “She comes and goes as she pleases. I simply provide the opportunities. She’s quite effective, you know. Doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t question. Just like old times.”

Natasha stepped forward, her gun trained on him. “What have you done to her?”

The fixer’s smile widened. “Only what she wanted. She came to me, broken and desperate. I gave her purpose, focus. She’s free now, free from all those messy emotions that held her back.”

Bucky’s voice shook with rage. “You didn’t free her. You turned her into a weapon.”

The fixer shrugged, unbothered. “She’s exactly where she wants to be.”

Bucky stepped forward, his voice deadly calm. “And where’s that?”

The fixer’s grin faltered for the first time. “You’ll never find her. She doesn’t want to be found.”

Bucky’s eyes burned with fury, but before he could move, Natasha pulled the trigger, shooting the fixer in the leg. He cried out, clutching his wound as he glared up at her.

“Where. Is. She?” Natasha repeated, her voice ice-cold.

The fixer coughed, blood dripping from his mouth as he chuckled weakly. “She’s already gone. But you’ll find her soon enough. If she wants you to.”

The quinjet touched down silently on the outskirts of the city. The team disembarked quickly, weapons drawn and senses on high alert. The abandoned office building loomed ahead, its shattered windows and graffiti-covered walls a testament to its long-abandoned state. Inside, though, it was anything but empty.

Tony’s voice was a low murmur as he held up his tech pad, showing the heat signatures inside. “Multiple targets on the top floor. Armed, moving in formation. Y/N’s in there, too.”

“Looks like another hit,” Natasha said grimly, her eyes scanning the building. “She’s taking out another crew.”

Bucky clenched his fists, his jaw tight. “We’re not letting her walk out of here alone.”

Natasha nodded, her voice steady. “Stay focused. We get in, neutralize the situation, and bring her back.”

The team moved as one, slipping into the building and making their way up the crumbling stairwell. The sound of muffled voices and footsteps echoed from above, the tension rising with every step. When they reached the top floor, they could hear it clearly now—the sharp commands, the clink of weapons, and then, suddenly, a scream cut short.

Tony raised his hand, signaling them to stop. He brought up the thermal view on his pad. “She’s already started.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as they crept toward the open doorway. From their vantage point, they could see you in the center of the room, moving with deadly precision. You were a blur of efficiency, taking out the armed men one by one, each movement calculated and lethal. Blood spattered across the floor and walls, and your face, but you didn’t falter.

The last two men in the room scrambled to take aim at you, but you were faster. You disarmed one with a quick twist of his wrist, driving a knife into his chest without so much as a flicker of emotion. The final man backed away, terror in his eyes as he aimed his gun at you, his hands trembling.

Before he could pull the trigger, you grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground with ease. His struggles were futile, and the sound of his choked gasps filled the air.

“Y/N!” Bucky’s voice rang out, desperate and raw, cutting through the chaos.

You froze, your grip tightening on the man’s throat as your eyes snapped to Bucky. For a moment, the room seemed to stand still. The team watched, their weapons drawn but hesitating, waiting to see what you would do.

You stared at Bucky, your face blank, eyes devoid of the warmth they once held. Slowly, deliberately, you tightened your grip, and without breaking eye contact with him, you snapped the man’s neck with a sickening crack. His lifeless body fell to the floor with a thud.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bucky took a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest. “Doll,” he said again, his voice trembling. “What are you doing?”

You stood there, blood splattered across your face, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Your eyes flicked over the rest of the team—Steve, Natasha, Sam, Clint, and Tony—all standing ready, but hesitant to make a move.

The room was suffocatingly silent, the air thick with tension as you stood amidst the bodies of the men you’d just killed. You looked at them—at all of them—as if they were nothing more than an inconvenience. Your once-bright eyes were now cold, lifeless, your pupils blown wide, a sharp contrast to the dim light of the room.

Sam was the first to break the silence. “Her pupils are huge,” he said, his voice low, uneasy. “That’s not normal.”

Natasha’s face tightened. She took a step forward, speaking in Russian, her tone steady but filled with quiet authority. “Ты идешь со мной, младшая сестра. (You’re coming back with me, little sister.)” She tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Ты сделаешь это легко или трудно? (Are you going to make this easy or hard?)”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you nudged the last man’s lifeless body with your foot, shoving him out of your way with a detached, almost bored expression. Then, finally, you spoke, your voice flat, emotionless.

“ Трудно(Hard).”

Steve sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “Are we really doing this? All of us, against her?”

Natasha didn’t break her gaze from you. “No. Just me.” She reached for her baton, switching it on with a low hum of electricity. “Let me try.”

Clint, standing off to the side, silently switched the arrow in his quiver to one tipped with a sedative, his fingers steady but ready. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes were locked on you, his movements precise and deliberate like he’d done this before, which of course he has.

Natasha stepped forward slowly, her baton raised but not yet striking. She muttered under her breath, almost to herself, “Дежавю. (Déjà vu.)” Then, in a softer tone, she added in Russian, “Я тебя люблю. (I love you.)”

The words didn’t even register. You moved without hesitation, launching yourself at her with lethal precision. Your first strike was a blur, and Natasha barely had time to block it with her baton. But you were faster, stronger, and more relentless than she remembered. Within seconds, you had her on the defensive, your blows landing harder and faster than she could counter.

Natasha grunted as you landed a kick to her side, sending her stumbling. “Something’s off,” she groaned, clutching her ribs as she stood. “You’re stronger than before.”

Bucky had been standing on the sidelines, his fists clenched, watching you tear through Natasha with ease. His heart broke with every blow you delivered. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped forward, his voice cracking slightly.

“Sweetheart, please,” he said, his voice filled with desperation. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

You turned toward him, your face still expressionless, and in one swift motion, you pulled a knife from your belt and hurled it at him. Bucky’s reflexes kicked in, and he caught the blade mid-air, but the force of the throw pushed him back a step.

He dropped the knife, his hands raised in a defensive posture. “I’m not going to fight you,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the pain in his eyes. “But I’m not letting you hurt anyone else.”

You didn’t hesitate, launching yourself at him. Bucky blocked every strike, his movements precise, never once retaliating. He didn’t want to hurt you, but you gave him no choice but to defend himself.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted over his shoulder as he deflected another of your attacks. “It’s the serum! She’s got some kind of super-soldier serum!”

Steve’s eyes widened, his grip tightening on his shield. Sam glanced at Clint, who still had his bow drawn. “Will that sedative arrow even work on her if she’s got the serum?”

Clint shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

He loosed the arrow, and it flew toward you, but you moved faster than expected, catching it mid-air. The tip still grazed your arm, injecting just enough of the sedative to make you falter slightly. You wobbled for a second, your movements sluggish, but it wasn’t enough to stop you. You turned the arrow back around, flinging it directly at Clint with lethal precision.

Steve’s shield flew through the air just in time, blocking the arrow before it could hit Clint. The sound of metal striking the arrowhead echoed through the room, but before anyone could make another move, Tony stepped forward, his repulsor glowing.

“This is enough,” Tony said, his voice cold and decisive. He raised his hand, preparing to knock you out.

But before he could fire, Natasha, now back on her feet, grabbed a heavy metal pole from the wreckage around them. She moved quickly, her face set with grim determination.

You turned back toward Bucky, ready to swing at him again, your eyes still filled with that cold, mechanical focus. But Natasha was faster. She swung the pole with all her strength, aiming for the side of your head.

The impact was immediate. Your eyes widened briefly before your body went limp, collapsing to the floor in an unconscious heap.

The room was silent except for the sound of everyone’s heavy breathing. Bucky dropped to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he gently cradled your head.

Natasha dropped the pole, her chest heaving as she looked down at you, a mixture of relief and sorrow in her eyes. “Я сожалею, сестра. (I’m sorry, sister.),” she whispered softly.

Steve stepped forward, his shield still in hand. “Let’s get her back to the jet. We’ve got work to do.”

[aisiedaisie]

hiiii ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ i just found your page this morning and read through your entire masterlist and i loveeee your writing! is it possible to get royal poly!marauders at a ball or something and they catch sight of the reader (can be whatever role you wanna give them) and they are like 'damn'

Hello hello~!!!

First of all, thank you so much for patiently waiting for me to get to your request. Life has been pretty hectic on my end, so writing had to take a back seat for a little while. But today, I finally had some time to sit down and write!

Now, let me just say— this idea is absolutely amazing! I’m completely in love with royal and historical AUs, so there’s a good chance I’ll revisit this concept and or turn it into a series of drabbles. (Not that I’m particularly skilled at keeping things short!!!)

I really hope you enjoy my take on your idea 💖

edit: I got a bit carried away-

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader WC: 3.7k

The night after the neighboring kingdom’s delegation arrives, the Griffyn Kingdom buzzes with anticipation. To honor their esteemed guests— especially the visiting princess —the King and Queen have announced a grand ball. This celebration is more than an act of hospitality; it is a shining declaration of unity, a glittering prelude to alliances and promises that will shape their shared future.

You find yourself standing in Princess Lily’s chambers, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows against the ornate walls.

 Before you, Lily examines herself in a floor-length mirror, her emerald-green gown a masterpiece of silk and embroidery. You and Mary fuss over the gathered fabric at her hips, smoothing it into place with careful precision.

“I can manage the rest,” Lily murmurs, her voice gentle but decisive. She steps away, gliding toward the gilded jewelry box on her dressing table. Its lid is open, revealing an array of jewels she brought for the journey— diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires glittering alongside an assortment of tiaras.

“You two should get ready as well,” she adds, her tone as light as the shimmering necklace she picks up, its facets catching the firelight.

You pause, caught off guard. “What?” The word escapes before you can stop yourself.

Normally, Marlene would stand guard in her knightly uniform, Mary would accompany Lily throughout the event, and you would remain behind— content to watch the festivities from a quiet corner of the castle, keeping a vigilant eye on the princess’s chambers.

“There’s no need for that tonight,” Mary says, her voice warm with reassurance. She steps forward, deftly fastening the diamond necklace around Lily’s neck. The glittering stones resting perfectly against the princess’s pale freckled skin. “We’re on excellent terms with the Potters. No one here will mean us harm.”

The words hang in the air, both an assurance and an invitation. Tonight is different, you realize. 

A diamond tiara rests atop Lily’s head, its intricate design sparkling like a constellation of stars nestled in her fiery red locks. She adjusts it briefly, her reflection regal and resplendent. “You rarely get a chance to enjoy yourself during visits like this,” she says softly, her tone kind but firm. “Go on, get ready.”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips, touched by Lily’s thoughtfulness. Her generosity warms you in a way words could never fully express.

With her gentle urging, you retreat to your own room to prepare. A quick bath washes away the lingering weariness of the day, and you do your best to ready yourself for the night ahead.

Despite your efforts, a sense of inadequacy lingers. 

For such grand occasions, it’s expected that the lady's maids and companions are impeccably dressed, each carrying at least one formal gown for travels like these. 

You do have such a dress— a blush colored piece gifted to you by your mother when you first joined the palace as Lily’s lady’s maid.

The fabric clings just a little too tightly at the waist, its once flawless seams now strained from years of careful reuse. The soft blush color, though elegant, has faded slightly with time, its original vibrancy dulled by repeated wear. The bodice is adorned with modest embroidery— delicate vines and blossoms stitched in pale gold thread that catches the light just enough to hint at refinement. The skirt, while gracefully cut, feels heavier than you remember, its weight pulling at your movements as if to remind you of the weight of high society.

It was the best your family could afford when you first came to the palace— a gift from your mother, its fabric chosen to honor both simplicity and a touch of nobility. Back then, it had been a symbol of hope, a token of pride for a baroness’s daughter stepping into the royal household. 

Now, however, standing before the mirror, you can’t help but feel its inadequacy in the face of tonight’s grandeur.

Even so, you smooth the skirt with steady hands, letting your fingers trace the faint ridges of the embroidery. This night, you remind yourself, is not about the richness of your gown, but the confidence you bring and the memories you make. 

Perfection may elude you, but presence—your presence—is more than enough.

When you step back into Lily’s chambers, it’s clear everyone is ready to go. Lily, as expected, looks effortlessly regal in her emerald green dress, the rich color complementing her fiery red hair that cascades down her back in elegant waves. Mary, ever composed, is radiant in a soft yellow gown that perfectly flatters her figure, her dark hair neatly arranged in a low bun at the nape of her neck.

“You look darling,” Lily murmurs, stepping forward to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your forehead. Her touch is as light as her tone, her emerald eyes warm with affection.

You roll your eyes playfully, unable to suppress a grin. “Says the actual goddess standing before me.”

“Truly,” Mary chimes in, her voice sweet as she adjusts the clasp of your necklace, ensuring it sits perfectly centered. “You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

Before you can protest their kind words, a knock at the door interrupts the moment. Marlene peeks her head in, her light blonde hair swept back into a tidy low ponytail. “Ladies,” she announces with a bright grin, “it’s time to head down.”

Excitement ripples through the room as the evening’s promise beckons.

_____

You weren’t quite sure what to do once you stepped onto the crowded ballroom floor. Back home, state balls were familiar territory, their routines and customs etched into your memory. But here, in a foreign kingdom, uncertainty clouded your thoughts. 

Was the etiquette the same? 

Would it be seen as rude to linger by the walls, content to watch the swirl of color and movement before you?

Must you be drawn into the heart of the celebration?

Apparently so.

You stand near one of the grand marble pillars circling the ballroom, the cool stone a comforting anchor amidst the overwhelming splendor. A glass of white wine rests in your hand, a half-hearted shield against your unease. From the corner of your eye, you notice movement—a man approaching with easy confidence. His dark hair is tied into a loose, messy bun, strands slipping free to frame his sharp features. His attire marks him as a knight of the Griffyn Kingdom, though the smirk curling at his lips carries a roguish charm and confidence uncommon in most knights you’ve met.

“You must be part of the delegation,” he says, his voice smooth, his smirk deepening as his gray eyes fix on yours.

You hesitate, biting back the urge to fidget. He’s handsome, undeniably so, but you can’t quite place why he’s chosen to speak to you. With a soft sigh, you nod. “I am.”

“I thought so,” he replies, a playful lilt to his tone. “I remember seeing you earlier, standing just behind the little princess. So, why aren’t you out there, dancing?” He gestures toward the center of the room, where couples spin and sway beneath glittering chandeliers.

“I’m not particularly fond of dancing,” you say, your voice quieter than intended. It’s not entirely true, but you hope the excuse is convincing enough to deter him.

“Nonsense,” he says with a laugh, his hand extending toward you. “Anyone can see you want to. Prove me wrong, if you’d like.”

The invitation lingers between you, daring yet strangely kind.

You hesitate for just a moment, glancing at the glass in your hand before setting it down on the corner of the nearest table. Then, with a small breath of resolve, you place your hand in his. “Don’t get mad if my heels end up on your toes,” you quip, a touch of nervousness slipping into your tone.

“Trust me, I’m quite nimble. Dodging danger is part of the job,” he replies with an easy smirk, already guiding you toward the dance floor with a confidence that leaves little room for argument.

Normally, you might have countered with a quick remark of your own, but your mind is too distracted. The pounding of your heart fills your ears, drowning out coherent thought.

The lull in the music amplifies every other sound—the clack of your heels against the polished marble, the low hum of whispered voices as heads turn to watch you pass. The weight of their gazes burns into your skin, and your hands tremble slightly as the knight clears a path through the crowd, his presence commanding in a way that both unsettles and reassures you.

Other couples filter onto the dance floor as the musicians shuffle their sheet music, preparing for the next song. The murmurs of the room settle, anticipation hanging in the air.

“Well,” you manage, your voice soft as you cling to anything that might distract you from the dozens of eyes still following your every move, “it seems you’re rather popular.”

“What can I say?” he responds, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I am rather handsome.” The smirk that accompanies his words is maddeningly self-assured.

Before you can respond, his hand presses gently against the middle of your back, drawing you closer. His other hand takes yours in a firm yet careful clasp, guiding you into the proper frame with a natural grace that makes it seem effortless. You barely notice the band striking the first notes of the song, your attention fixed on the storm gray eyes studying you with something close to intrigue.

You set your hand clumsily on his shoulder, your fingers brushing the smooth fabric of his maroon jacket. He doesn’t seem to mind your hesitation, his movements assured and steady as he begins to lead you through a simple waltz.

To your relief, the steps come naturally, your body quickly attuning to the rhythm of the music and the gentle guidance of his lead.

“What’s your name?” he asks, his voice soft, nearly lost beneath the rising swell of the orchestra.

You glance up at him, your voice barely above a whisper as you give your name.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he replies smoothly, his lips curving into a charming smile paired with a wink that, despite yourself, pulls a smile to your face.

“And you?” you counter, a touch of playfulness creeping into your tone. “Who might this oh-so-charming knight be standing before me?”

His eyes glint with amusement, their gray depths catching the light like polished steel. “Sirius,” he says simply, the name rolling off his tongue with a quiet confidence.

You nod thoughtfully, letting the music and his lead guide you effortlessly across the floor. “An attention grabbing star for an attention grabbing knight,” you muse aloud, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Seems fitting, I suppose.”

His laugh is low and warm, the sound wrapping around you like the melody. “Well, I do strive to live up to my name.”

“I doubt you have any trouble with that,” you say, a soft smile playing on your lips as you hold his gaze.

The music begins to fade, the elegant notes giving way to the quiet hum of conversations around you. As the dance slows to a stop, you take a small step back, though his presence still lingers like the warmth of the ballroom’s golden glow.

“So much for not being a dancer,” he teases, his smirk as effortless as the steps he led you through.

You turn to him, unable to suppress your grin. “Maybe you were just that good of a lead,” you say sweetly, your voice light with sincerity. But before he can respond, you catch sight of Mary and Lily across the room.

“I ought to check in on my lady,” you add, inclining your head slightly. “Thank you for the dance, Sir Sirius—”

“Sirius,” he interrupts gently, his tone almost playful. “Just Sirius is fine.”

You nod, your smile softening as you take a small step back. “Fine, then. Thank you for the dance, Sirius. It was... unexpected, but I truly enjoyed it.”

With a final glance, you turn and make your way toward Mary and Lily, weaving through the gathered crowd. The warmth of his hand on yours still lingers faintly, and his name echoes in your thoughts like the fading strains of the music— a memory you suspect will stay with you far longer than the evening itself.

_____

James and Remus stepped out of the nearest sitting room, the faint hum of ballroom music echoing down the corridor. Remus, ever meticulous, adjusted James’s slightly askew collar, his fingers deftly hiding the newly formed love bites that marked the prince’s neck—evidence of their brief but heated absence.

“We need to get back before anyone notices,” James murmured, his voice low but tinged with amusement as he fixed his tousled hair.

Remus smirked. “We’re already late. Let’s hope Sirius hasn’t set the place on fire in our absence.”

But as they approached the ballroom’s grand entrance, what they saw made both men falter. There, on the dancefloor, Sirius Black was leading a woman in a waltz.

The sight itself was striking. Her blush colored dress stood out in gentle contrast against the bold, jewel toned gowns of the others swirling around her. The simplicity of her attire only seemed to magnify her elegance, and for once, Sirius appeared utterly focused, his usual roguishness tempered by something softer.

“Sirius never asks a woman to dance,” a sharp voice cut through the hum of the crowd. James and Remus glanced toward a cluster of women, their faces half hidden behind delicate feathered fans. The speaker, a haughty looking noblewoman, tilted her head knowingly, her words drawing murmurs of agreement from those around her.

Remus’s brows knit together. Sirius was notorious for politely but firmly declining the endless stream of invitations to dance he received at events like these. Yet, watching him now, Remus found he could understand why Sirius had sought out this particular partner.

She was... radiant.

“Well, isn’t she a sight to see,” James murmured, his voice just low enough for Remus to hear.

Remus nodded, his hazel eyes tracking the woman’s graceful movements. “If I’m not mistaken, she’s one of Princess Lily’s lady’s maids,” he said, his tone thoughtful.

James’s eyes widened slightly in recognition, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Is that so?” he drawled, the spark of an idea lighting his gaze.

Remus sighed, already sensing trouble. “What are you thinking, James?”

The prince’s grin only grew. “I think,” he said, “we should pay a visit to the princess. Seems like her lady’s maid could use some... royal introductions.”

_____

After reuniting with a gushing Mary and Lily, a server approaches, bowing their head politely before handing you a fresh glass of wine. You thank them quietly, though you can’t help but find their deference a little peculiar. Still, you accept the drink, shifting your attention back to the princess as she launches into a spirited account of your performance on the dance floor.

“You looked absolutely stunning out there,” Lily exclaims, her cheeks slightly flushed from the excitement of the evening—or perhaps the wine.

“She’s right,” Mary agrees with a hum, a bright smile lighting her face. “Everyone was watching. You two were the talk of the room.”

Both women had taken their turns dancing with high-ranking gentlemen throughout the night. Suitors vying for the honor of even a single waltz. Yet, they seemed convinced that your dance was the highlight.

“He’s quite a talented dancer for a knight,” Mary observes, taking a sip from her own glass.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I figured he’d be good, considering how confident he seemed. But he led me effortlessly. I barely had to think about the steps.”

“Well,” Lily interjects with a soft laugh, her hand fluttering to her lips as though trying to stifle her amusement, “that’s hardly surprising. He’s a noble, after all.”

“What?” Both you and Mary turn to her in confusion, the notion catching you both off guard. Nobles rarely became knights, considering the station beneath them. Sirius hardly seemed the exception, yet here you were.

“He’s the son of Duchess Black,” Lily explains with a slight grimace, lowering her voice. “Her sons are far more tolerable than she ever will be.”

“Lily!” Mary scolds, her eyes darting around to ensure no one overheard the princess’s blunt critique. Fortunately, the surrounding hum of conversation seemed to swallow the comment whole.

“But...” you trail off, your brows furrowing as you ask. “Did you not just dance with the heir to the duchy?”

“That would be my younger brother,” a smooth, familiar voice cuts into the conversation, making you turn sharply.

Sirius stands behind you, his easy smirk firmly in place, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in his gray eyes. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you instinctively dip your head in greeting, murmuring, “Sir Sirius.”

“Sirius,” he corrects lightly, his gaze softening as it lingers on you.

“Sirius,” you murmur, correcting yourself softly.

His smirk softens into something warmer. “You danced with Regulus, Your Highness?”

“Lily,” the princess corrects, her tone mirroring his own.

Sirius chuckles, his attention shifting to her. “Of course, Lily. So, you danced with Reg?”

“As I always do, Sirius,” she replies with a sigh, clearly anticipating where the conversation might lead. Her expression brightens, however, as her gaze lands beyond him. “Oh, James, Remus! A pleasure to see you.”

Both Mary and you instinctively bow your heads, mirroring Lily’s graceful greeting as two men approach.

“Leave the formalities for the elders,” James teases, waving his hand dismissively. “Raise your heads, ladies.”

James Potter is every bit the image of royalty, dressed in a pristine white suit adorned with a red sash. The high collar adds to his regal air, but it’s his confident posture and easy smile —so warm and almost boyish—that truly captivate.

Beside him stands a tall, broad shouldered man with tousled brown hair. The scars that trace his skin catch your eye briefly before you hastily return your attention to the prince, unwilling to appear rude. Yet, the man’s hazel gaze, calm and piercing, seems to notice everything.

“Are you all enjoying the ball?” James asks, his voice warm and smooth as his signature smile graces his lips.

Lily answers first, her response polite and poised as ever. Her agreement prompts Mary and you to nod along.

“Glad to hear it,” James replies, his smile widening. “I know Sirius was enjoying himself not too long ago,” he adds with a teasing lilt, his hand clapping Sirius on the shoulder and lingering there in a way that seems deliberate.

“It was one dance,” Sirius groans, tilting his head toward the prince in exasperation.

“One dance more than usual,” Remus chimes in, his deep, steady voice carrying a hint of humor. His hazel eyes flicker to Sirius, glinting with quiet amusement as he observes his discomfort.

James turns his gaze to you, his teasing grin softening into something gentler. “He didn’t step on your toes, did he, my lady?” he asks, the mock solemnity of his tone bringing a smile to your lips.

You shake your head, your amusement showing clearly. “Of course not.”

James bursts into laughter, the sound rich and full, drawing a few curious glances from those nearby.

“Having women cover for your clumsy footwork now— what a shame,” Remus adds, his tone dripping with mock disappointment as he shakes his head.

Sirius turns to you, lips curling into an exaggerated pout. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve egged them on.”

You shrug, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Now, why would I do that, Sirius?”

“You’re killing me, doll,” he groans dramatically, prompting laughter to ripple through the small group.

The conversation shifts back to something closer to polite, though the teasing undercurrent remains. Mary moves subtly closer to you, her hand brushing comfortingly over your back. It’s then you notice the weight of the many gazes lingering on your group, a pressure you hadn’t fully realized until now.

Your eyes lower to the polished marble floor as you focus on listening to James and Lily’s easy banter, their words melding with the hum of the ballroom.

“You alright?” Remus’s voice pulls your attention. He steps closer, his question soft, laced with genuine concern.

You nod lightly. “It seems all of a sudden I’ve run out of energy,” you say, a polite fib. The truth is, this entire night has been draining, though you don’t want him to think he’s dull company. “I’m not used to parties like this,” you add quickly to clarify.

Remus’s lips curve into a smile, his expression warm and understanding. “We have lounges on the top floor for guests who need a break. You’d be welcome to rest there if you’d like.”

You shake your head gently. “I really shouldn’t, but thank you for the suggestion–”

“That’s a great idea,” Lily interjects with an encouraging smile. “Let’s rest our feet for a while.”

“I’ll let Marlene know we’re heading upstairs,” Mary offers before slipping away, likely toward one of the food tables where Marlene is undoubtedly stationed.

“We’ll escort you,” Sirius says smoothly, but Lily raises a hand, declining the offer with a polite smile.

“We’ll be fine on our own, but thank you,” she assures him.

“Of course,” James replies, bowing his head slightly.

Mary returns soon after, accompanied by Marlene, who carries a golden plate piled high with delicate finger foods.

“Enjoy your rest,” James says with a gracious nod, his tone sincere though his smile holds a trace of teasing warmth.

The women dip their heads in thanks before retreating upstairs to find a quiet lounge.

_____

As soon as they’re out of earshot, James turns to Sirius with a mischievous smirk. “Well, wasn’t she a sweetheart?” he asks, his teasing tone unmistakable.

“She’s polite but knows how to hold her own. I’d say you’ve chosen well, Sirius,” Remus adds with an approving nod.

“If you two hadn’t left me—” Sirius starts, a hint of irritation coloring his words.

“We did say you could join us,” James cuts in, raising his hand as if to defend himself.

“And you know damn well if all three of us disappeared, people would notice,” Sirius counters, arching an eyebrow.

James shrugs, entirely unbothered. “Your loss.”

“Not entirely,” Sirius says with a wolfish grin. “It just means we can take our time later.”

“No visible marks,” Remus warns, his voice carrying the weight of experience. “We’ll have guests for a while.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, his grin unwavering. “It’ll be fine—it’s never stopped us before.”

Remus sighs, his lips twitching upward despite himself. “Fair enough.”

[watery-melon-baller]

If you want to talk about the way people erase characters’ main traits in service in shipping (I call it paper doll syndrome) for your video essay I would be DELIGHTED to help you come up with ideas/write a script or whatever I love making videos and this topic is so interesting to me

that would be so awesome! paper doll syndrome is such an apt name for it and it really is a fascinating (and frustrating) fandom phenomen

fair warning though, im specifically focusing on the owl house fandlom/shipping stuff mainly because ive been in the fandom for a long time and have watched the fandom change over the years. but this kind of thing definitely isn't exclusive to owl house it's a very common fandom phenomen so most of my points can apply to fandom in general. ive never made a video essay or anything but ive been thinking about this for months so i figured i would give it a try. currently im just collecting evidence rn but i would love to chat if ur offering!

[stunie]

zevie! first of all i am SO looking forward to your kinktober 2024 mlist [incoherent yelling]. in the meantime i wanted to let you know that i have read and re-read everything you have written so far for windbreaker and it is ALL SO GOOD. i went in hardcore into just one or two of the boys but after reading your stuff it literally becomes like. whoever it is you’re writing for in that post :’) anyways i am counting down the days to your sep posts but pls take care of yourself too, thank you so much for all of your hard work!

nonnie !!! hellloooo aaaa my kinktober !! i am so excited for you guys to read it (: i spent a while thinking of the prompts & tried to make them super juicy <33

you’re rereading ??? that’s like one of the sweetest compliments u can give a writer my love ):

you as well!! i am so excited for what’s to come (: if i finish kinktober prompts early, i have a milestone event planned! i have an idea that can include my shy readers as well 🤍

[ratpoizonz]

"ooo x is jealous of y and is sad bc y is with z and x likes z this so sad" FOR CHRIST'S SAKE Z HAS TWO HANDS

[faerociousbeast]

people who have zero sense of suspension of disbelief and try to find every single minor plot hole or inconsistency ever especially in fan projects are soooooooooo fucming annoying

[timegears-moved]

i gotta rant about how much i hate the mega z-ring sidequest from a game design standpoint hold on

[unproduciblesmackdown]

being alive at the time i gleaned some general elements abt encanto but never actually heard we don't talk about bruno beyond awareness it existed popping off & i think i heard like the title recited off key off rhythm but in a way that indicates speak singing nonetheless lol so upon experiencing it it's like oh but it's the Verses? while the last refrain goes harder but prior to that it's comparatively underwhelming to said verses which feels appropriate like verses / pieces of a larger picture & that a "we don't talk about him" as a disappointing Lid on infinitely richer more characterful & dynamic "but: talking about him" instances. like well personally it'd be like um seven foot frame....anyway besides being able to firsthand go like oh damn Real (the kind of thing you know exists if alive at the time) it's like alright hang on lol. one thing when a core theme is yeah like "is it a refuge if 'especial' vulnerability ultimately gets pushed out rather than made safer" subset like the parties whose even observation of truths (problems) & drawing attention to them is seen as Ruining Things, like if you're painted as Making futures that aren't simply what's desired or reassuring rather than a guidance via just observing & sharing the truth. but then it's like whaddaya mean living in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling you could always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling lmao like now that's just Association between the Truth Perceiving & Telling behavior & behavior that's just apparently distinctive of the same person. & like Not Accidentally when [what if people were magic] specifics are obviously primarily abt a metaphorical meaning & like, indeed it was made clear like oh this situation isn't Just b/c [boo we hate your prophecies] & that [an Ability that isn't directed towards what anyone Wants / is "weird" even by these magic standards] isn't Coincidentally given to someone who just so happens to already be "weird" in other ways & be set up to have a different perspective & be pushed away due to having the supposed "extra" vulnerability of unmet needs / insufficient support, same as someone who doesn't "correctly" have any kind of magic ability....like yeah banger and also like Oh Yeah Kind Of Devastating re: that metaphorical resonance allowing for like [set the metaphor aside] now hang on with this about this disabled family member lol. misinterpretation to The Ruinerrr / The Problemmm / The Maliciousss etc (i.e. the scapegoatinggg) despite their efforts likely entirely to the contrary. then despite like, efforts aside, Just Existing, always kind of muttering & mumbling like & what of it. & then like oh sorry weird pets. weird [auspicious for adaptable tenacious thriving surviving; either way simply creatures, existing] pets.

truly like As Is The Idea I'm Sure quickly becomes like hands behind back standing at the window Uh Oh Sisters musing on all the [disabled person] metaphorical & already literal elements there. blair witching it in contemplation like We've All Been There whether being so resented for the mere disruption of "existing in a group as the 'abnormal' odd one out" or like people talking shit abt anything associated w/you as soon as you've left the room, which is also made relevant like, this wasn't Only directed at this person when seemingly permanently gone, nor were they unaware / unaffected prior....pacing in the Musing parlor like things don't Have to be compared to billions but i only ever even see so many things & it's like billions sure is like "get scapegoated rword" & then said scapegoating is presented as only beneficial & we hate autists & even beyond that it's like, grabbing billions, Imagine If Things Meant To Be About Something Were About Something. quite a contrast when they are & furthermore like, deliberate thought & Care for [who gets scapegoated & why] & the truth of like, people getting pushed aside & out who have a key perspective & are primed / liable to come through for others similarly vulnerable & the supposedly Ruinous, Problems Generating disruptiveness is actually the strongest effort to make essential changes to a group. & come through with like, it'd be undermining thee point if it was "reassuring" us like oh haha people will be supportive b/c bruno will be more normal, so great that it Didn't like no, no Normality Reassurance(tm), presence of abnormalities(tm), Good, & everyone Can Deal b/c if you don't then it's pushing this person away, is exactly what happens, including even if they're still Around but are being mistreated b/c that is entirely part of that pushing away like anyone's victim blaming is ready to pounce at any time but if someone can't stand to stay / leaves b/c they can't see another option like that's not out of nowhere nor Regardless of what full support & flexibility they were getting lol. these Active Measures everyone loves so much, which are everywhere always & would include Staying & Trying To Make It Work & those efforts would be "disruptive" & resented & Bringing It On Oneself & etccc smh

that is to all say like. Woww when clearly basically the core thread was these beats of like, the crucial site of [thee scapegoated], & why that comes down on someone & how that plays out. endless ideas about how someone weird(tm) & disabled (&/or queer. but there's no Or here lol. & again like it's a Context like, to even be the one person without kids? likely not living up to "full" correct sexuality in that way alone; any oppression's logics of "inferiority" being logics of ableism, ready examples being that "inferior" race, gender, sexuality (& their experiences as people classed as inferior) all being pathologized as disordered) are seen & treated as someone Ruining Things & who cannot belong like whew. bracing. winding. which, i also recall like i was watching with headphones & during this one dialogue pause i was like "?? what's this Extra Sound i heard there" & had to go over it like twice before being hit upside the head like well it Was still the dialogue pause but it was also bruno Stuttering in a very quiet whisper for the duration of that pause before continuing like iiiiiiii x_x

[pepperyduck]

ridin' nanamin for the first time...

a/n: nsfw, riding, methinks this fits older boyfriend nanami so let’s say implied age gap😊 18+ mdni!

"ken, i wanna try to ride you."

your immodest request had taken your boyfriend by surprise, such forward ways of speaking often foreign to you. you had "tried" to ride him before, though it was more of a little grinding while you were on top. this time was going to be different, though, you were going to ride him.

"oh?" he'd all but coo, lacing his words with a slight mockery, "is that so?" kento's cunning, rare smile towards you afterwards almost makes you give in; but no, you're determined.

not without a little teasing, you set yourself up atop the older man, legs hiked up on either side of his waist with your feet planted firmly into the bed. reaching down, you guide the thick head of nanami's cock to your already sopping entrance, easing your hips down to take all of him.

you swat at kento, signaling you need some type of leverage, and his big, experienced hands come to interlock fingers with yours. it's sweet, really, how his arms hold you up so effortlessly while you struggle to remain composed on top of him. his muscles become more exposed and veinier as he continues to balance your weight against him.

conjuring up whatever strength you have, you lift yourself up with your legs and plop! back down, eyes completely focused on the reaction you're to receive from kento. yet he only finds it amusing how attentive you are to his pleasure, and he gives you to go-ahead to try it again.

this time, you try a series of multiple little bounces, each little 'plop' becoming increasingly heavier with each drop of your pelvis. but the one thing that drives you to not stop, to keep going without the need for hesitation, is the expression that comes over your boyfriend's face.

it's...intense. kento's eyebrows furrow together, his eyes close lightly, and every previous appearance of a smile is wiped from his lips as they form into a small 'o' shape. he looks as if he's focused, even with his eyes shut, on how your body tries so hard to pleasure him.

and the thing that really kills him is that you keep going. because he was so used to you being fucked dumb so easily, giving yourself up to him within the first few seconds of his intoxicating touch.

but kento can understand the thrill of the power he's giving you.

you muster up all the adrenaline left in your cells, legs burning with such fever you hate yourself for taking on this feat, pushing into your boyfriend's arms to keep yourself upright. strings of slick connect from the base of nanami’s cock to your cunt, a downright obscene sloshing and squelching coming from where the both of you interlock.

though your body aches for you to stop, you can't, not now. the constant unwinding of kento's brick wall attitude is too inebriating for you to quit.

[evilgwrl]

ExHusband!Simon x Reader

You Want a Divorce? (Two)

Note: I feel like this is so bad im sorry!!!!

CW: Angst, titty sucking, passionate asf sex, simon missed ur pussy and you very much and vise versa, breeding kink, PIV (no protection, pls use it irl), squirting, simon eats the FUCK out of ur pussy, multiple orgasms, praise, hint of degradation, possessive!simon, OVERSTIMULATION, slight daddy kink… sorry

Part One

It was a quiet ride, the subtle sweeps of cars fleeting by as Simon gripped the wheel, eyes trailing off to the side to look at you briefly. Your head was leaned against the window, your knees knocking together anxiously as your daughter babbled in the back, cooing about how Mummy and Daddy were now back together.

You tried to hide the shed of tears that filtered across your iris, every small childish mumble like a stab to the gut as you listened to the genuine happiness in her tone. You would turn around occasionally with a small smile as you reached out to tickle her foot, giggles filling the car.

Simon pulled in, the car bouncing slightly as it hit the gravel carpark, his hand swerving into a spot before he turned to the back. “You excited, baby?”

Ella’s face lit up as she fumbled to take off her seatbelt, “Get me, Daddy! Get me! I wanna see the lions!” It was refreshing knowing she still viewed Simon as her hero, no matter how distant he was in their lives. You knew that even though your ex-husband was rarely around, his time with them did everything it could to mend the time apart. Toby woke up at the commotion, the toddler having slept the whole way there despite his older sister’s constant bickering about what animals she had to see first.

Everything seemed to flash past you as you walked inside, the whir of kids and noise sending your brain into overdrive as your eyes flickered to Simon with Ella swinging around on his shoulders and Toby kicking his legs in the stroller. You looked away; breath shaky as you attempted to compose yourself. This was supposed to be a happy day, for all of you, yet seeing him with your children, something that was supposed to be normal, felt so distant and unknown. Gathering yourself, you plastered a fake smile, hands reaching out to pinch your son’s cheeks as you grabbed the stroller.

Your heart hammered in your chest for the remainder of the day, fingers tingling with anxiety that bled into your veins, consuming your lungs with what seemed like everything but oxygen. It was a series of squeals and commotions from your young ones, their elation evident through the bright glow of their face, soft red resting on the apples of their cheeks. As the day quieted down, Toby slumped in the stroller as you tucked him into the car seat, his new plush crocodile cradled into his arms, mouth wide open as subtle breaths snored out.

Ella was cradled into Simon’s shoulder, her shoes half hanging off as she clutched onto him, dead asleep. You settled into the ride home yet your anxiety only seemed to heighten. You were alone with Simon, with no kiddish voices to break the tension, brown orbs glaring into the side of your face.

“Should we talk about this morning?”

You scoffed. “You have some nerve asking to talk about this morning,” you screamed into a hush, “What you did was completely disrespectful. Not only did you break into my house and kick my date out, but you left our kids in the car! What the fuck were you thinking?”

He cleared his throat, almost like he wanted to hold back how he felt. You noticed the white in his knuckles as he gripped the wheel, right eye twitching as he stared at the squiggles of tar ahead. “I don’t want our kids growing up thinking it’s normal for parents to separate. They need their mum and dad together, y/n.”

The world silenced for a second, the screams of the wind rushing past you seemed to slow as your voice cracked, seeps of emotion pouring out as you choked on your breath, “Then you should have fought for your family, Simon. There is no us anymore, it’s just them. They’re all that connects us now.”

You felt like all the ivory had been sucked out of your eyes, endless pits of your pupil consuming you whole, blurring your vision with fog as you blinked, hot streams of liquid salt spilling onto your cheeks, brimming at the cracks of your lips as you sniffled. You could feel his hesitation as he looked at you.

His words regurgitated in his throat as he stammered, tangled limbs reaching out to grip yours as you pulled away.

“Just drop us home.”

Your eyes had dried now, soft stains of bare skin caving through your foundation as you smudged your fingers against it. Simon stuttered as he pulled up to the driveway, tyres screeching to a halt as you sat in silence.

The soft strum of fingers caught your attention as you turned around, the innocent face of Toby looking back at his parents, tongue blabbing out of his mouth. “Dadda! You have dinner?”

“No, sport. Daddy’s gotta go-“

“Yeah, baby. Daddy will have dinner with us.”

You blinked at your own words, Simon’s surprised expression meeting yours. The wrench in your heart would never subside, the entirety of the beating organ still belonging to your ex-husband, but being a mother was a sacrifice. And you would sacrifice yourself in every existence you become one if it meant your children didn’t have to battle the same internal wounds.

“They’re tucked in,” Simon said, voice soft as he noticed your withered body in the couch. Your hair was messy now, strands spitting out as you anxiously tucked them back in, smoothing them down with the dampness of your palms as you ran around all night, ushering to the demands of your children.

“Thank you.”

You felt ill, your tongue cascading down your throat as you palmed at your knees, desperate for him to leave yet desperate for him to stay. Simon stilled, keys jangling in his hand before he sat down next to you, his weight disrupting the couch as he shuffled around.

“I need you to know that I did want to fight for you, y/n. I have counted every single day since you handed me those papers, waiting by my phone every single night on deployment hoping for you to text me, call me, fuck - blow my phone up. I never wanted the temporary absence that we had apart become permanent. Everything I said,” he breathed, voice cracking slightly as he looked away, “Everything I said on October 6th, 7 years ago, I meant. You weren’t supposed to get away from me - I shouldn’t have - I shouldn’t have let you get away from me.”

It was strange. Simon was never one for feelings, the brutality of his job allowed for any harsh emotions to crack through his fingers as he pulled a trigger, any dampness of tears would sweat through his skin as he pummelled a blade into an enemies head.

But it was you. And you weren’t violent, or any enemy, you were his wife, the person he vowed his entirety too.

Your anxious cascade cracked as you whimpered out a sob, chest heaving as you buried your face, tight with tears, into the pillows of your hands. You felt warmth spread through you, the texture of Simon’s fingers burning through you like wildfire, every ember he felt scorching through your flesh as he pulled you in.

Arms tangled together, intwining like wool as he wrapped you into his chest nimbly. A zephyr ran through you, your wrists clutched in his hands as you straddled him, the weight of you feeling like the grandest treasure upon him.

It was nothing strange, nor sexual but Simon recognised that cry, the differing pitch as you shuffled your frame into his. Simon knew you like the back of his hand, every crevice, every crease, every scar. He knew your backstory, and the one you made up to impress people. He knew the hex of the colour of your eyes and the print of your thumb. No papers would take that away from him.

Soaked eyelashes clumped into one as you looked up at him, orbs resembling once of a doe, innocence seeping through every inch of a salt-stained tear. His eyes met yours, apertures of cocoa reflecting your weary frame as you gripped onto him.

“Let me come home, please.”

Simon’s voice was desperate, it was raw, any shed of arrogance erased through the lines, eyebrows knotted together as he rubbed at the small of your back.

Your nod was subtle, but he could practically hear it, calloused hands gripping at the plush of your cheek and seeping through the tip of your spine, thumb rubbing at your earlobe as he clutched onto you.

Hot, seething pricks ran through your limbs as your lips connected, saline lining your mouth as he lapped at the heat of your tongue, rough groans leaving his lips as he savoured the taste.

Any diffidence left your body as familiarity sunk back into you. Hands pawed at the globe of your ass, gripping the flesh as anguished limbs wrapped around Simon’s waist.

With an easy tug, he lifted you, your hands wrapping around his neck as he pulled you in closer, teeth kissing. You never questioned Simon’s strength, and you wouldn’t start now as you felt your back hit your mattress.

He tugged at his shirt, the black fabric pooling on the floor as you sucked in a breath. Your eyes traced every scar, lighter flesh engraved into the skin of his torso, a short trail of hair disappearing into his pants as you stared at his burly physique.

Simon gripped at your shirt, the material practically ripping before his hands were at your chest, grabbing at your flesh desperately as you tangled your fingers into your bra, sliding it off. His mouth was hot on your chest, the sound of moans and pants filling the air as he positioned himself between your legs, teeth grazing the hard nubs, sucking with fervour as you whined, your hand at the base of his head, cradling it.

“Missed these so fucking much,” he practically whined, groping your tits as he pinched your nipples, lips sucking deep marks of possession into the soft skin. Your pants were desperate, begging him for more as you pulled his hair, fingernails clawing at his scalp.

Your hands fumbled with your pants, hips raising as he slid them off, clumsy fingers chucking them across the room as you laughed, lips connecting once more in a giggly state as his thumb pushed against the wetness of your panties.

“Missed how fucking wet you got for me. Such a good fucking girl,” he groaned, fingers rubbing at your heat through the thin cloth eliciting a pained moan from you.

“Simon - I need more, been so long.”

He choked out a laugh as his fingers hooked into the fabric, lace dribbling down your leg before he mewled at the sight of you. His hands held your thighs apart, your soaking cunt on display as it throbbed, slick folds glistening in the poor lighting.

“Prettiest fucking pussy,” he choked out to himself, placing your legs over his shoulder as he knelt down. Your back arched as you felt his tongue lick a long stripe of your pussy, his body seething for a taste of you as his lips found your neglected clit.

He lapped at you mercilessly, your cries and moans moulding into one with the filthy squelches of his mouth against your heat. Long digits circled your entrance, teasing you, before they curled in.

Your eyes rolled, pools of ivory exposed as you let out a guttural moan, your thighs tightening around his ears as he smirked against your pussy. Cocky fingers rubbed at the right spot, favouring the clench of your tight hole as he pulled every noise he could get from you.

You were barely cohesive as he lapped at your slick, the throbbing of your clit edging him on as he soothed your g-spot with the pad of his fingers. The coil you had only ever felt with Simon began to build, the familiar sensation pooling in your stomach as you stuttered out a whimper.

“Si- too much - I’m gonna-“

“That’s it baby,” he cooed, pulling away from your pussy for a second to take in your expression as you came, your face contorted with pleasure as your legs jerked, pussy wrapping tighter around his abusing digits as he fucked you through it with them. You looked down at him, saliva and your slick coating his mouth and chin as he grinned.

You stammered out a groan as his mouth attached back on your pussy, slurping up your liquid gold as you attempted to push his head away in overstimulation.

“Oh my- fuck - Simon - too much,” you whimpered your words commanding him to continue as he guzzled around your clit, teeth grazing the sensitive bud as your legs shook uncontrollably.

It wasn’t long before the continuation from your previous orgasm rose again, heat swarming your lower belly as you screamed out, your hand slapping over your mouth as you felt Simon’s spare hand wrap around your thigh, squeezing tightly.

You pulled at his hair, tugging at the ashy roots before you were gushing around his fingers and tongue again, sloshing liquids soaking your sheets as he groaned at the taste, mouth lapping it up with vigour. You whined in humiliation, the overwhelming pleasure becoming too much as you heaved.

“Si - no more -“

“I’m sorry baby, too fucking good. Will never get enough of your pussy.”

His words were filthy yet only held the truth, his continuous slurps against your heat causing your body to jerk as you relentlessly bucked your hips. Simon’s abuse continued on your pussy, your pussy gushing and coming another 6 times before he was satisfied, the sheet under you drenched in both your slick and squirt as Simon milked your overwhelmed cunt, claiming he was “making up for the months lost”.

You were dry heaving, throat dry as he captured your lips in a kiss, the taste of you infiltrating into your glands as you groaned, his hands reaching to tug at your breasts as he took in your fucked out state, legs jiggling and twitching as your pussy convulsed at the number of orgasms he dragged out of you.

You felt like you had been lying here for hours, yet you weren’t satisfied. You would only be content when he was inside you, stretching you to the brim as he pumped a load inside your worn-out hole.

“Simon - please - I can’t… I need you now,” you were practically crying, tears shedding at the brim of your eyes, bottom lip jutting out as he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, slicking back the sweat on your forehead.

“I know baby, done so well for Daddy, hm? Even after all that you still need to be plugged full of me don’t you?”

You nodded as a harsh slap landed against your clit, your body jolting as you squeaked. “Yes, please,” you cried, “Please Daddy.”

His hands were like clockwork, tearing at his jeans as they released his cock, a satisfied groan leaving his body as he gripped at the tent in his pants, a sticky wet patch soaking the material before his length throbbed out, angry tip slapping his stomach as a trail of precum glistened against the base of his cock.

His dick was flushed red, begging for release as he ran it through the squelch of your sopping folds, rubbing against your manipulated clit as you moaned.

Your hands gripped his head as he leant down to kiss you, his arm holding him up while the other positioned himself at your entrance. He stilled for a moment, cock almost pressing in before he whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

The words were soft yet meaningful, your eyes interlocked as he began to push inside, your mouth gasping open as you clutched onto his shoulders. It was hard when you were together all those years to get accustomed to his frightening length, and now it had been a year and the stretch was searing through you.

“I know, sweet girl, you can take it. Such a tight cunt for me, so fucking good.”

Fingernails clawed at his back as he pushed in, your whines muffled by the palm of his hand as he held himself up his elbows. “Holy fuck,” he spluttered as he bottomed out, his lips connecting to your neck as he sucked, resting inside you for a second as you whimpered.

The burn slowly faded as you rutted against him impatiently, the tip of his cock resting against your sweet spot as you gasped.

“So fucking impatient, always been such a slut for me. Haven’t you?”

You nodded, whining as he began to move, moving his hips slowly as he rubbed inside you perfectly, your mouth wide open as your head lolled back. A series of expletives tipped from your tongue as you choked on the air, Simon’s pace picking up at your dramatic noises.

“Fuck - taking me so well-“ he grunted, hands groping at your tits as he watched your pussy absorb his length. It was an obscene sight and he loved it. Every fibre of your being belonged to him and it was something he constantly craved.

“All fucking mine - shit - my fucking pussy,” he grunted, thumb rubbing at your clit as you mewled, twitching below him as he spat, “my fucking wife - got the tightest fucking cunt just for me.”

You clenched around him at his words, knowing it was true as his balls slapped against your ass, skin spanking against each other as the sound filled the room, ecstasy roaring through both of your veins as you made love.

The squelch of your pussy was taboo as he lapped in the missed sound. His eyes took in the way your body reacted to every movement, no matter how small. He took in the way your breasts bounced with each thrust, lower stomach bulging as he pounded into you.

“Fuck - Simon - oh my God,” your words were a mere blabber, barely making sense as you clutched onto him, pulling him down to meet your lips.

“I can’t pull out, baby - fuck - gotta cum in this pretty pussy. Give you another kid, hm? - shit -“

His hips didn’t falter as his pace fastened, chasing his own high as he rubbed at your clit, your breaths growing shallow as your orgasm began to build. “Gonna fill you with my cum until it takes. Need your belly round again and your tits full - such a good fucking mum, makes me so fucking proud.”

His words were the final straw as the build up in your stomach popped, your whole body convulsing as your pussy clenched around him, a loud groan leaving his throat before you felt the hot splashes of his cum pumping inside you.

“That’s it baby, milk my cock. Such a good fucking girl for Daddy, gonna break you apart everyday on my cock until you never forget who you belong too.”

He didn’t pull out immediately, his cum plugged inside you as some seeped out, rolling down the crevice of your ass below you. Your eyes shut, gentle pants leaving your lips as you felt Simon’s absence before a soft cloth was wiped gently across your sex and masculine arms were gripping onto you, carrying you into the guest room before engulfing you into a thrill of heat, Simon’s chest against your back as you fell asleep.

TAGLIST: @kiiwiipie @nijiru

Disclaimer: im sorry if this is disappointing im super tired :(((

[sysig]

Your Weekly TV Guide

On Monday you can expect:

2:30 PM: Hermitcraft - Rescuing Rusty

And Tuesday:

2:30 PM: Adventure Time

Wednesday:

2:30 PM: AT

Thursday:

2:30 PM: AT

Friday:

2:30 PM: AT - Petrigrof

Saturday:

2:30 PM: Just Desserts - Pets

Sunday:

2:30 PM: Sona daily goings-on

Thanks for tuning in! (Patreon)

[won4kiss]

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────UH OH, I’M FALLING IN LOVE.

𝓢YPNOSiS. you and heeseung have been rivals for as long as you could remember, constantly competing for the top spot in school—basically everything. living next door to each other only added to the fire, the tension between you, especially when heeseung’s cocky aura never seems to waver. but one single encounter shifts the entire dynamic, leading to confusing emotions arising, jealousy, and new surprising revelations. what happens when rivalry starts to feel like it’s growing into something more?

୨୧ 𝓟AiRING. academic rival! lee heeseung x fem! reader, e2l, platonic jake sim! x reader.

୨୧ 𝓖ENRE. frenemies to enemies to lovers trope, neighbours trope, slowburnish, she fell first, he fell harder, angst but vv happy & fluffy ending!! non!idol au.

୨୧ WARNiNGS. profanities, mean girl harassing yn, slight miscommunications, overthinking, heeseungs’ unfortunately vv dumb T-T, kissing, jealousy, insecurities, not proofread so expect spelling errors :3!!

୨୧ WORD COUNT. 10,283 | 10.2K

𝓟𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗟i𝗦𝗧 ﹕ labyrinth, taylor swift, let the light in, lana del rey, white mustang, lana del rey, i love you, i’m sorry, gracie abrams, nobody gets me, sza, fishtail, lana del rey, bel air, lana del rey, intro (end of the world), ariana grande, daydreamin’, ariana grande.

NOTE. after three days it’s finally complete:3 this is my first 10k+ work and i’m really proud of it!! feedback is always appreciated<3 ig this is another (late) birthday post for heeseung bc ilhsm!! ㅠㅠ

LiBRARY | © won4kiss all rights reserved

YOU HAVE ALWAYS HATED LEE HEESEUNG IN ALL YOUR YEARS OF LIVING.

or at least, that’s what you told yourself after your crush on him in freshman year, long before he decided he didn’t wanna be friends anymore—everyday as you stared at the back of his head in class, as you watched him stride confidently down the halls, or caught a glimpse of him outside your window, you knew you hated him.

it wasn’t hatred in the traditional sense, but rather an intense, gnawing resentment that had grown over the years.

he was your biggest rival—had been since childhood.

every achievement, every reward you earned, was always tainted by the fact that heeseung was right there, just a step ahead or a breath behind, competing with you for the same crown.

for as long as you could remember, it had been you and heeseung battling for the title of “number 1” in everything.

academics, sports, student council—if there was something to win, one of you would, and the other would be left second place, seething with anger.

you both knew it, and so did the rest of the school—the rivalry between the two of you was practically legendary.

and it didn’t help that you were neighbors.

from your bedroom window, you had a perfect view into heeseung’s room.

the distance between the two houses was just a few meters, and if you opened your windows at the same time, you could practically hear each other breathing.

there were nights when you could see the dim glow of his desk lamp as he studied late into the evening—no doubt working just as hard as you were, trying to maintain his title over you.

heeseung was infuriating, cocky, arrogant, and—worst of all—talented.

it wasn’t enough that he was smart—he was also athletic, charismatic, and effortlessly incredibly popular.

he’d never let you forget it, either, there wasn’t a day that passed without him throwing a smug comment your way about how he’d beat you in the last exam or how he scored higher in a math test by a single point.

“you almost had me that time,” he’d say with a smirk, as if being second place wasn’t a knife in your chest.

so, naturally, you’d responded in a way anyone else would, throwing curses and insults his way whenever you could.

it was a defense mechanism, a way to keep the bitter rivalry alive.

but deep down, you had to admit, there was something almost exciting about it.

heeseung pushed you to be better, to work harder—and while you loathed the look he gave you every time he won, there was something about his presence that you couldn’t quite shake off.

then, one morning, everything changed.

it was a normal tuesday, and you were getting ready for school as usual.

the sun was barely rising, casting a soft golden light into your room.

you were standing in front of your mirror, adjusting your uniform, when something caught your eye from the window—more specifically, someone.

heeseung.

at first, you didn’t think much of it—after all, his window was right across from yours, and you’d seen him countless times getting ready for the day.

but then you realized—he wasn’t just standing there, he was shirtless.

your heart skipped a beat—you froze, eyes wide, as you took in the sight of him.

his hair was still messy from his slumber, and his skin was glowing softly in the glow of the morning light.

you’d never really thought about heeseung in any way other than as your obnoxious rival, but seeing him like this—bare and vulnerable—you couldn’t deny that it did something to you.

you tried to tear your eyes away, but for some reason, you couldn’t.

you felt your cheeks grow hot as you stood there, practically staring at him.

and that’s when he turned his head.

he caught you.

heeseung’s eyes flickered toward your window, and for a split second, you thought maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t notice.

but then his lips curled into that familiar smirk, the one that always made you want to punch him, and he raised an eyebrow.

slowly, he stepped closer to the window, clearly amused by the fact that you’d been caught staring.

your heart hammered in your chest, this was the most mortifying moment of your life.

before you could react, heeseung opened his window, pushing it up with a soft creak.

his smirk widened as he leaned against the windowsill, his bare chest still on full display.

and then, he did something you didn’t expect—he motioned for you to open your window.

for a moment, you just stood there, frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

every fiber of your being screamed at you to ignore him, to pretend this never happened.

but there was something about the way he was looking at you—something playful, something almost… flirty? it sent your brain into a whirlwind of confusion.

with shaky hands, you hesitated, then slowly cracked open your window, just enough to hear him.

“what? did you enjoy the view?” he asked, his voice dripping with amusement.

your face flushed even hotter—this was not happening. lee heeseung was flirting with you?

he had never flirted with you before—he was usually busy insulting you or trying to one-up you.

but now? now he was standing there, shirtless, with that stupid grin on his face, teasing you like this was some kind of game.

“i—what are you even talking about?” you stammered, trying desperately to regain some sense of control. “i wasn’t staring, freak!”

heeseung chuckled softly, the sound sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.

“sure, you weren’t. it’s okay to admit it, you know? i get it. i am pretty hard to resist.”

you gaped at him, utterly speechles, was this really happening? was he seriously being… flirty?

your brain couldn’t handle it—without thinking, you slammed your window shut, the sound echoing through the quiet morning air.

your heart was racing as you quickly yanked the blinds down, cutting off any possibility of him seeing your red, embarrassed face.

you leaned back against the wall, your hand pressed to your chest as you tried to calm down.

what the hell just happened? was this some new tactic of his to throw you off your game? to mess with your head right before exams?

or… was it something else entirely?

for the first time in years, you found yourself truly confused about lee heeseung, and that terrified you.

you tried to push the incident out of your mind, but it clung to your thoughts like a stubborn stain you couldn’t scrub away.

that strange encounter with heeseung left you feeling unsettled, his cocky grin and the way his eyes lingered on you making you feel things you didn’t want to acknowledge.

flirting. it was definitely flirting. but why? what was his angle?

in the days that followed, things got even weirder.

heeseung, your sworn academic rival, the bane of your existence, had suddenly… softened.

the mean remarks, the casual taunts—gone.

instead, he’d been acting almost… considerate?

you noticed it first when you were walking into class one morning, arms full with textbooks and a coffee in hand.

normally, heeseung would be the first to slip in front of you and let the door slam shut in your face—just to get under your skin, of course.

but that morning, he held the door open for you, his eyes meeting yours briefly as he gave you a small nod.

“thanks,” you mumbled, confused but too caught off guard to say anything more.

he didn’t say anything either—no smug response, no condescending smile.

he just let you walk through the door and quietly followed you inside. the whole thing was… unnerving.

then, during class, he didn’t try to one-up you during discussions, didn’t toss his usual gloating looks your way when he answered a question right before you could.

he was just sitting there, minding his own business.

you couldn’t understand it. this wasn’t the heeseung you knew—the heeseung you’d spent years battling, exchanging insults, and outdoing each other.

this version of him, quiet and strangely kind, threw you off balance, and it only got worse.

in the hallways, heeseung started greeting.

not with his usual sarcasm, but with a simple, “hey.” sometimes, he’d even smile at you—an actual smile, not that infuriating smirk he usually wore.

you didn’t know what to do with it. your brain felt like it was short-circuiting every time he looked at you, like you couldn’t reconcile this new heeseung with the one who had spent years making your blood boil.

it wasn’t just you who noticed the change, either—your friends started giving you weird looks every time heeseung passed by without some snarky comment.

one day, your friend mina leaned over during lunch and whispered, “what’s up with heeseung? he’s been acting like… different lately.”

“i don’t know,” you muttered, stabbing at your food with more force than necessary. “maybe he’s finally grown up.” mina raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

“or maybe he’s just tired of pretending to hate you.”

you nearly choked on your drink. “what?”

“come on,” mina said, smirking. “it’s obvious. heeseung’s been obsessed with you for years. he’s probably just finally figured out that he actually likes you.”

you scoffed, shaking your head. “that’s ridiculous. heeseung hates me. we’ve been rivals since we were kids.”

mina shrugged. “rivals, sure. but that doesn’t mean he hates you. sometimes people use rivalry as an excuse to get close to someone.”

you didn’t want to believe it. you couldn’t believe it. heeseung liking you? it made no sense.

he was obnoxious, arrogant, and had made your life hell for years.

there was no way he suddenly had feelings for you. no. it was all some game—some twisted strategy to throw you off your game. right?

but then there was that nagging feeling deep inside, the one you didn’t want to acknowledge— the same ones you felt not too many years ago.

the one that kept reminding you of how your heart had skipped a beat when you saw him shirtless through the window.

how your pulse quickened every time he smiled at you now, even if you hated to admit it.

the realization was creeping in slowly, like a slow, dread filled idea building in your chest.

the truth was, heeseung had always been more than just your rival. he’d always been the one person who could get under your skin in ways no one else could.

and maybe, there was something there—something that went beyond the rivalry.

but before you could make sense of it, everything had changed again.

a few days later, you noticed a new face in school.

she was striking—tall, with long, dark hair and a bright smile that seemed to light up the room.

she moved through the hallways with an air of confidence, making friends effortlessly.

within days, it felt like everyone knew her name—you quickly learned her name too: haerin.

at first, you didn’t pay much attention to her.

she was new, sure, but you had more important things to worry about—like the upcoming exams.

but then you noticed something that made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t explain.

heeseung was spending time with her—a lot of time.

you saw them together between classes, walking side by side, talking and laughing.

heeseung, who had been oddly nice to you lately, now seemed to be focusing all his attention on this new girl.

it was subtle at first—just casual conversations, a friendly smile here and there—but soon, you started seeing them together all the time.

and it wasn’t just their proximity that bothered you. it was the way they were so… touchy.

heeseung would lean in close when he talked to her, his hand brushing her arm casually as he laughed at something she said.

she’d playfully nudge him back, her eyes sparkling.

it was the kind of easy, natural closeness that made you feel sick to your stomach.

jealousy was a foreign emotion for you—especially when it came to lee heeseung.

you’d never thought you’d care about who he spent time with—but seeing him with haerin, seeing how comfortable they were together, made something ugly and bitter rise in your chest.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being replaced.

that whatever strange connection you and heeseung had been developing was being overshadowed by this new girl.

as much as you tried to ignore it, the jealousy gnawed at you.

you couldn’t help but compare yourself to haerin—she was charming, effortlessly likable.

she fit in with heeseung’s world in a way that you never could.

you were his rival, his equal in competition, but haerin? she was someone who made him smile without the sharp edges.

you hated it. hated how it made you feel. hated how you started to question if heeseung had ever really changed at all, or if he had just been playing some long game with you.

days passed, and heeseung’s attention on haerin only seemed to grow.

they were inseparable now, and every time you saw them together, your heart clenched painfully.

the worst part was, heeseung barely even looked at you anymore.

he had stopped greeting you in the hallways, stopped holding the door for you, stopped leaving those lingering glances that had started to make your stomach flip.

it felt like you were disappearing from his world.

but maybe that was for the best, you thought—maybe heeseung was never meant to be anything more than your rival.

and maybe you were just fooling yourself into thinking there could be something more.

you had always prided yourself on your confidence.

in all the years you spent locked in competition with heeseung, you’d never doubted your abilities.

sure, he was good—annoyingly good—but so were you.

you matched him step for step, beat him sometimes, and when you didn’t, you got back up, ready to fight again.

but now, something was shifting, and it had nothing to do with grades or exams.

it had everything to do with haerin.

insecurity was new for you, but it was impossible to ignore, everywhere you looked, she was there—laughing with heeseung, brushing against him like they’d known each other for years, not just a couple of weeks.

they were so casual with each other, so comfortable.

you told yourself it didn’t matter, that heeseung’s friendships didn’t affect you.

but it did. it was starting to eat away at you, piece by piece.

what was worse was that you found yourself wondering why it wasn’t you.

why had heeseung been so kind to you one minute and then completely shifted his attention to someone else?

had all those smiles, those lingering glances, meant nothing? maybe you’d misread everything.

maybe it had never been anything more than a temporary truce in your endless battle.

but no matter how much you tried to brush it off, the truth was impossible to deny—you were jealous.

you hated that it felt like haerin was taking your place in heeseung’s life.

you hated the way she made him laugh so easily—and most of all, you hated how small and insignificant it made you feel.

and then came the final straw.

it was a friday afternoon, the cafeteria bustling with noise as students crowded around tables for lunch.

you were sitting with your usual group, mina chatting about some drama she’d seen on tv, but your attention was elsewhere—locked on the sight of heeseung and haerin across the room.

they were sitting together, as usual—haerin was leaning in close, whispering something that made heeseung throw his head back in laughter.

your chest tightened at the sight—you tried to look away, to focus on mina’s story, but it was impossible.

that green, bitter feeling of jealousy twisted in your stomach, making you feel sick.

“are you even listening?” mina’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you blinked, turning back to her.

“yeah, sorry,” you muttered, forcing a smile. “just… tired, i guess.”

mina raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but before she could say anything, someone approached your table.

it was haerin.

you looked up, startled to see her standing there with a carton of milk in hand, a sweet smile on her face.

but there was something about her expression that felt… off.

her eyes gleamed with a certain smugness that sent warning bells ringing in your mind.

“oops—” haerin’s voice was sickeningly sweet as she ‘accidentally’ tipped the milk carton over, sending the liquid spilling across the table and right into your lap.

your entire body stiffened as the cold milk soaked through your clothes, shock momentarily paralyzing you.

the cafeteria seemed to go quiet around you as everyone turned to look at the scene unfolding.

haerin’s smile didn’t waver for a second.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, though there wasn’t a trace of sincerity in her voice. “that was totally an accident!”

you could feel your pulse pounding in your ears as your mind raced to process what had just happened.

the milk was cold, seeping into your uniform, but that was the least of your concerns.

you knew it wasn’t an accident. haerin had done it on purpose, and judging by the look in her eyes, she wanted to humiliate you in front of everyone.

for a second, you felt frozen—the room was watching, the sound of whispers starting to make its way through the crowd as they waited to see what you would do.

“it wasn’t an accident,” you said, your voice sharp and louder than you intended.

you stood up abruptly, glaring at haerin. “you did that on purpose.”

haerin’s smile didn’t falter—she tilted her head, feigning innocence as she blinked at you.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about. it was just an accident, really. no need to get so upset.”

the fake sweetness in her voice set your teeth on edge.

anger bubbled up in your chest, mixing with the hurt and insecurity you’d been bottling up for days.

“that��s a lie,” you snapped. “you’ve been trying to mess with me since you got here.”

the whispers around you grew louder as people leaned in, watching the confrontation unfold.

haerin’s eyes flickered with amusement, but before you could say anything else, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“hey, what’s going on here?”

you turned to see heeseung standing a few steps away, his brows furrowed in confusion as he looked between you and haerin.

for a moment, relief washed over you. heeseung had seen everything, right? he’d understand what was happening, and for once, he’d take your side.

but then haerin turned her wide, innocent eyes on him, her lower lip jutting out in a perfect pout.

“i accidentally spilled milk on her,” she said, her voice soft. “but she thinks i did it on purpose. i don’t know why she’s so mad…”

you watched in disbelief as heeseung’s expression softened.

he glanced at you, but there was no anger in his eyes—only frustration.

“come on,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “it was an accident. don’t make a big deal out of it.”

your heart sank.

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing—heeseung was taking her side? after everything you’d been through, after all the strange kindness he’d shown you in the past few days, he was choosing to believe her over you?

“that’s not what happened!” you shouted, your voice breaking with frustration. “she did it on purpose! you saw—”

“just drop it,” heeseung said, cutting you off—his tone was tired, as if this whole situation was just an inconvenience to him.

“you’re seriously overreacting.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. overreacting? he was dismissing you—again.

something in you snapped—without another word, you turned on your heel and bolted from the cafeteria, ignoring the whispers and stares that followed.

the humiliation, the betrayal—it was too much to bear.

you found yourself in the empty janitor’s room, the quiet darkness swallowing you whole.

you slid down the wall, burying your face in your hands as the tears finally came.

everything hurt—your pride, your heart, and the foolish hope you’d had that heeseung might actually care about you.

the cold, dim room was silent, except for your quiet sobs.

you tried to keep them in, biting your lip, but the tears just kept coming.

your hands trembled as they gripped your knees, pulling yourself into a ball on the floor of the empty janitor’s room.

it was the only place you could think to hide, the only place where no one would find you in this humiliating state.

you couldn’t believe how things had turned out—everything was a mess.

not just the milk soaking into your uniform, but the betrayal from heeseung, the stupid jealousy you felt toward haerin, and the way the entire cafeteria had seen you break down.

your head spun with anger and sadness, and no matter how hard you tried to calm yourself, the tears kept flowing.

then, there was a soft knock on the door.

you stiffened, wiping your face furiously with the back of your sleeve.

whoever it was, you didn’t want them to see you like this.

but before you could pull yourself together, the door creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped inside.

“hey… are you okay?”

jake sim?

you blinked up at him, confused, you hadn’t expected anyone to come looking for you, least of all jake—heeseung’s rival on the basketball court and someone you’d barely spoken to outside of class.

he closed the door behind him, giving you a soft, understanding smile as he crouched down in front of you.

you sniffed, quickly wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice still shaky. jake shrugged, sitting down beside you on the cold floor.

“i saw what happened in the cafeteria. i figured you might want to be alone, but… i also thought you could use some company.”

you looked away, embarrassed that he’d witnessed everything—the last thing you wanted was for anyone to see you like this, but at the same time, the quiet sympathy in his voice was oddly comforting.

“i don’t need company,” you muttered, but the words lacked conviction.

jake chuckled softly. “maybe not, but i’m staying anyway.” for a few moments, neither of you said anything.

jake sat beside you in silence, giving you space to collect your thoughts—it was strange how easy it felt to be around him.

even though you’d never been particularly close, his presence wasn’t overwhelming or intrusive. it was just… there, solid and dependable.

finally, you sighed, leaning your head back against the wall. “it was her,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“haerin. she did it on purpose.”

jake nodded. “i figured. she’s been hanging around heeseung a lot lately. guess she thought picking a fight with you would get her more attention.”

you clenched your fists, feeling the anger bubble up again. “and heeseung… he just believed her. he didn’t even listen to me. he just… told me to drop it, like it didn’t matter.”

jake was silent for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“yeah, that wasn’t cool of him. i don’t know what’s going on with heeseung, but what he did today was wrong. you deserved better than that.”

the simple validation of your feelings made something inside you crack open.

you hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear that—how much you needed someone to understand what you were going through.

“thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

jake smiled at you, the kind of smile that felt genuine and warm. “anytime.”

for a while, you sat there in silence, letting the tension of the day slowly nib away in jake’s quiet company.

it was strange—this was the first real conversation you’d ever had with him, but somehow, it felt like you’d known him for longer.

there was no awkwardness, no pressure to fill the silence with unnecessary words. he was just… there.

after a while, you finally spoke again. “why are you being so nice to me?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

jake chuckled softly. “is it that surprising?”

“a little,” you admitted. “i mean, we’ve never really talked before.”

he nodded thoughtfully. “true, but i’ve seen you around. we’re in the same class, and you’re heeseung’s biggest rival. i guess i always admired how you handled him.”

you raised an eyebrow, surprised. “admired?”

“yeah,” he said with a smile. “heeseung can be a lot to deal with, but you never back down. you’re tough, and you’re not afraid to butt heads with him. that’s not something everyone can do.”

you blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.

no one had ever put it that way before—most people saw your rivalry with heeseung as petty or competitive, but jake seemed to see something more.

something you hadn’t even realized about yourself.

“thanks,” you murmured, unsure of what else to say.

jake gave you another easy smile. “no problem. and hey, if you ever need someone to vent to, i’m here. heeseung might be my rival on the court, but that doesn’t mean i’m on his side when it comes to this.”

for the first time all day, you felt a small, genuine smile tug at your lips.

jake’s kindness, his quiet reassurance, was exactly what you needed.

he didn’t try to fix everything or offer empty words of comfort. he just listened, and somehow, that made all the difference.

“thanks, jake,” you said softly. “i really do appreciate it.”

“anytime,” he replied with a grin, standing up and offering you a hand to help you off the floor.

you hesitated for a moment, then took it, letting him pull you to your feet.

as you both made your way out of the janitor’s room, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, like some of the weight on your chest had lifted.

jake’s unexpected kindness had done more to heal the hurt than you’d expected.

and as you walked side by side back to class, you realized that maybe, this was the beginning of a new friendship.

over the next few days, something unexpected happened—you found yourself spending more time with jake.

jake made everything feel a little easier, a little lighter, and you didn’t feel the constant pressure to put up walls around him.

at first, it was just small moments here and there, like passing each other in the hallways and exchanging knowing smiles, or sitting together during lunch when mina was busy.

with jake, there were no mind games, no intense competition, and definitely no betrayal.

the first time you laughed with him in class, you almost forgot the sting of what had happened with heeseung—almost.

it was small things at first. jake would crack a joke when you were feeling down, or lean over during study periods to ask a random question that had nothing to do with school but everything to do with making you smile.

he had this easygoing charm about him, the kind that made it impossible to stay mad or sad for long.

and, of course, heeseung noticed.

it was hard not to. you and jake had started walking to and from classes together, and every time heeseung passed by, you could feel his eyes on you.

he didn’t say anything at first, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made your skin prickle—like he was trying to figure something out, something that was just out of his reach.

one afternoon, you were sitting with jake outside, taking in the rare moment of sunshine between classes.

jake had just told a terrible joke, the kind that made you laugh even though it was ridiculous, and you couldn’t help but lean into him, playfully nudging his shoulder.

“really, jake? that’s the best you’ve got?” you teased, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye as your laughter faded.

“hey, i don’t see you coming up with anything better,” he shot back, grinning.

his smile was infectious, and you felt a warm comfort wash over you.

it was nice, being able to relax like this—something you hadn’t realized you needed until now.

but then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him.

heeseung stood a few feet away, watching you and jake with a look that was hard to read.

his jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw something close to frustration flash across his face.

you immediately straightened up, the laughter dying in your throat as you met his gaze.

heeseung didn’t move, didn’t say anything, but the tension between the three of you was thick.

jake noticed too, his smile fading slightly as he glanced between you and heeseung, clearly picking up on the strange energy.

“heeseung,” jake greeted casually, though his tone was a little less cheerful than before. “you need something?”

heeseung’s eyes flickered from jake to you, and for a brief second, you saw something in them—something sharp and raw.

he shook his head, his expression unreadable. “no,” he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “just passing by.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to say.

there was an awkwardness in the air, a tension that hadn’t been there before, and you couldn’t help but feel like something unspoken was simmering beneath the surface.

but before you could figure out what it was, heeseung turned and walked away without another word, leaving you and jake in a strange, uncomfortable silence.

jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “heeseung sure knows how to kill a vibe, huh?”

you tried to laugh, but it came out weak and forced. “yeah…”

but your mind was already elsewhere—on the look in heeseung’s eyes, the way his shoulders had tensed when he saw you and jake laughing together.

heeseung had never been one to back down from anything, but now it seemed like he was avoiding you.

and it didn’t make sense—one minute, he was pushing your buttons, flirting with you through the window, and the next, he was… distant. cold.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you two, and you didn’t know how to fix it.

worse, you didn’t even know if you wanted to.

that night, as you sat at your desk pretending to study, you caught a flicker of movement outside your window.

your heart skipped a beat, and before you could stop yourself, you glanced over to see heeseung’s figure illuminated in the soft glow of his desk lamp.

your eyes locked for a moment.

then, heeseung did something that took you completely by surprise.

he reached down, grabbed something from the floor, and with a flick of his wrist, tossed a small rock at your window.

it hit with a soft tap, not loud enough to startle you, but enough to catch your attention.

you hesitated, unsure of what he wanted.

heeseung hadn’t thrown rocks at your window since you were kids, back when your rivalry was less serious and more playful— back when you could actually call lee heeseung one of your best friends.

now, the gesture felt strange—almost nostalgic in a way that made your chest tighten.

still, you couldn’t ignore him—you pushed the window up, letting in the cool evening air, and leaned out slightly, your voice low as you called over to him.

“what do you want?”

heeseung’s face was mostly in shadow, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the edge of his window as if he was holding something back.

“i need to talk to you,” he said, his voice quieter than you expected. “now.”

you frowned, your heartbeat quickening. “about what?”

“just open your window,” he muttered, his voice strained. there was something different in his tone—something vulnerable, almost desperate.

it wasn’t like the confident, cocky heeseung you knew. and that was what made you hesitate.

but after a long pause, you sighed and opened the window a little wider, waiting for whatever he had to say.

you stood at your window, the cool night air brushing against your skin, as heeseung’s figure shifted in his room across from yours.

he was still gripping the windowsill, his posture stiff and tense.

the silence between you stretched, uncomfortable and heavy, until finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“what do you want, heeseung?” you asked, your voice coming out sharper than you intended.

the wound from the cafeteria incident was still fresh, the memory of him siding with haerin burning in your chest.

for a second, heeseung didn’t respond, his lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw clenched tight as if he was struggling with what to say.

then, finally, he let out a long breath, and his shoulders slumped, just a little.

“why are you hanging out with jake?” he asked, his voice low and strained.

you blinked, caught off guard by the question. “what?”

heeseung’s hand ran through his hair in frustration.

“jake. you’ve been hanging out with him a lot lately. laughing with him, spending time with him…” his voice trailed off, and when his eyes met yours again, there was a flash of something vulnerable in them—something you hadn’t seen before. “why him?”

anger flared inside you—after everything that had happened, after he had humiliated you in front of everyone, this was what he cared about? who you were spending time with?

“why does it matter?” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. “what, you’re allowed to spend all your time with haerin, but i can’t hang out with jake?”

heeseung winced at the mention of haerin, but he didn’t back down.

“that’s not what this is about—“

“then what is it about?” you shot back, your voice rising with frustration. “because from where i’m standing, it seems like you’re just jealous.”

heeseung’s eyes widened slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to say it out loud. “jealous? of jake?”

“yeah,” you said, glaring at him. “you have no right to question who i spend time with. especially after what you did.”

his brows furrowed in confusion. “what are you talking about?”

“the cafeteria, heeseung!” you practically shouted, the hurt finally spilling over.

“you took haerin’s side, you embarrassed me in front of everyone, and you didn’t even bother to hear me out! and now, you’re mad because i’ve been hanging out with jake? after you made it pretty clear you don’t care about me at all?”

the words came out harsher than you intended, but once they were out, there was no taking them back.

the raw truth of how much heeseung had hurt you was now laid bare between the two of you, hanging in the air like a thick fog.

heeseung’s expression crumpled. for a moment, he looked utterly lost, his eyes wide with regret and something close to panic.

“i—” he opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes darting away from yours. “i didn’t know. i didn’t realize…”

you let out a bitter laugh, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“of course you didn’t heeseung, you’ve been too busy with haerin to notice.”

heeseung’s face twisted with frustration. “it’s not like that with her.”

“really? because it sure seems like it.” your voice was trembling now, the emotional weight of everything threatening to crush you.

“you’re always with her. you don’t even look at me anymore. and when you did have the chance to stand up for me, you didn’t. you humiliated me, heeseung. and you didn’t care.”

the words hit him like a slap. you could see it in the way his eyes widened, how his hands balled into fists at his sides.

heeseung took a step closer to the window, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “you think i didn’t care?”

you stayed silent, your heart pounding in your chest.

heeseung’s jaw clenched, and then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “i’ve been an idiot. i know that now.” his eyes were locked on yours, and for the first time, you could see the depth of his regret.

“you’re right. i didn’t stand up for you, and i should have. i hurt you, and i hate that i did. but it’s because…”

he hesitated, the words catching in his throat.

“it’s because i’ve been trying so hard to ignore how i feel about you,” he finally confessed, his voice thick with anxiety.

“i’ve spent so long thinking of you as my friend—then my rival and enemy, as someone i had to beat, that i didn’t realize… i didn’t want to admit that it was more than that.”

your breath caught in your throat.

“i’ve been feeling odd—weird around you for a long time,” heeseung continued, his voice cracking slightly.

“but i didn’t know how to deal with it. i pushed you away, acted like a jerk because i was scared. and then haerin showed up, and i thought if i focused on her, maybe i could forget about you—get rid of this feeling, but i couldn’t.”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall.

you wanted to be angry, wanted to hold on to that hurt and betrayal, but hearing heeseung’s voice crack with vulnerability made it harder.

his words, the way he looked at you, made you feel things you had been trying to deny for so long.

“but why didn’t you defend me?” you asked, your voice breaking.

heeseung’s expression crumpled. “i don’t know,” he whispered. “i was stupid. i thought if i stayed out of it, it would just go away. but it didn’t. and now i’ve ruined everything.”

you stared at him for a long moment, your heart aching with the weight of it all.

heeseung was standing there, tears welling in his own eyes, and for the first time in all the years you’d known him, he looked completely vulnerable.

“i don’t know if i can forgive you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “not right now.”

heeseung nodded, his lips pressed tightly together as he swallowed hard.

“i understand,” he said softly. “but please… don’t shut me out.”

without another word, you shut your window, turning your back on him and collapsing onto your bed, emotions swirling inside you.

even though you had closed the window on him, part of you still wanted to reach out.

the next morning, you woke up feeling emotionally drained.

the conversation with heeseung played over and over in your mind like a broken record player, his voice echoing in your head, repeating those words.

“i’ve liked you for a long time.”—you had wanted to be angry, to stay angry, but now, all you felt was confusion.

did it even matter? he’d hurt you, after all.

that should’ve been enough to keep the walls you’d built between the two of you intact.

but something inside you had softened at seeing him so vulnerable, so broken.

you’d seen a side of him you weren’t sure anyone else had ever seen.

as you made your way to school, you told yourself that things would go back to normal.

you’d ignore heeseung like you always did, keep your distance, and focus on the things that mattered—your studies, your friendship with jake, anything but heeseung.

but the moment you walked into the classroom, all of that went out the window.

there, sitting on your desk, was a small carton of strawberry milk—your favorite.

you stopped in your tracks, blinking in confusion—the bright pink carton stood out against the plain wooden surface of your desk, and for a moment, you thought it had to be some kind of mistake.

but then you saw it— a folded note tucked underneath the carton.

with cautious fingers, you reached for the note and unfolded it. the handwriting was familiar, neat and precise.

“i’m sorry.”

that was it—no explanation, no signature, but you didn’t need one.

you knew exactly who it was from. your heart gave an involuntary flutter, and you quickly stuffed the note into your bag before anyone could see it.

your eyes darted to heeseung’s seat across the room.

he was already there, sitting with his head resting on his hand, staring at the window as if he hadn’t just left a peace offering on your desk.

he didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge you, but you could feel the tension radiating off him, like he was waiting for you to react.

you bit your lip, unsure of what to do—you wanted to stay mad at him, wanted to cling to the hurt and anger from yesterday, but this… this small gesture of apology tugged at something deep inside you.

heeseung wasn’t one to apologize easily. you knew that. he was proud, stubborn, and always had to win. but this? this was different. it wasn’t much, but it was something.

before you could figure out how to feel about it, the bell rang, and the classroom began to fill with students.

you slid into your seat, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest as the day began.

over the next few days, it became a pattern.

every morning, when you arrived at school, there was something waiting for you on your desk—a carton of strawberry milk, a small packet of your favorite snacks, even a neatly folded handkerchief after gym class when you’d been sweating.

each gift came with the same simple note—“i’m sorry.”

it was starting to drive you crazy.

heeseung didn’t say a word to you during class, didn’t try to talk to you between periods, but his quiet gestures of apology were impossible to ignore.

the other students had started to notice too, whispering to each other whenever they saw the latest offering on your desk.

“what’s going on with you and heeseung?” mina asked one day at lunch, her eyebrows raised in suspicion. “he’s been acting so… weird lately.”

you shrugged, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “i don’t know. he’s just… apologizing, i guess.”

mina’s eyes widened. “apologizing? for what?”

you hesitated, unsure of how much to tell her—mina didn’t know about the confrontation in the cafeteria, didn’t know how much heeseung’s words had hurt you.

and honestly, you didn’t feel like reliving it. so instead, you just sighed. “it’s complicated.”

mina gave you a look, clearly not satisfied with your vague answer, but thankfully she didn’t push it.

instead, she glanced over at jake, who had been sitting quietly beside you, picking at his food.

“what do you think about all this?” she asked, nudging him playfully. “you and heeseung have always been rivals too, right?”

jake glanced up, his expression thoughtful “yeah, we’re rivals on the court,” he said, his voice casual. “but i don’t really care about that. if he’s apologizing, maybe he’s finally realized he messed up.”

you looked over at jake, feeling a wave of gratitude for his support.

he had been there for you when you needed someone, and now, more than ever, you appreciated his calm, steady presence.

he didn’t make a big deal out of the situation, didn’t push you to confront heeseung before you were ready. he just… understood.

jake caught your eye and smiled, and for a moment, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

but of course, that peace didn’t last long.

later that afternoon, as you were walking through the hall with jake, laughing at one of his dumb jokes, you felt someone grab your wrist.

you stopped, your laughter dying on your lips as you turned to see heeseung standing there, his grip firm but not painful.

his eyes were intense, his jaw set in determination.

“come with me,” he muttered, his voice low and urgent.

you blinked, confused. “what? where—”

“just… come on.” heeseung didn’t give you a chance to argue. he tugged you along, pulling you toward the stairwell that led up to the rooftop.

jake called after you, his voice tinged with concern, but you were already too far down the hall to stop.

your heart pounded in your chest as heeseung led you up the stairs, the quiet intensity of the moment making your head spin.

when you finally reached the rooftop, he let go of your wrist and turned to face you, his expression conflicted, like he didn’t know whether to yell or beg for your forgiveness.

“what are you doing, heeseung?” you asked, your voice shaky with confusion and anger.

“i need to talk to you,” he said, his voice quiet but desperate. “about everything.”

the rooftop was quiet, other than the soft rustling of the wind and the distant chatter of the school below.

you stood there, facing heeseung, your heart pounding in your chest.

the tension between the two of you was thick, and the silence stretched on, filled with the weight of everything unsaid.

“what are we doing here?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

you were still reeling from the suddenness of it all—one moment you’d been laughing with jake, and the next, heeseung was dragging you up here like something urgent was at stake.

heeseung ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face.

“i needed to get you away from him,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

“from jake?” you asked in bewilderment, your anger flaring up again. “what does jake have to do with this?”

heeseung finally looked at you, his eyes dark and intense. “everything. he’s—he’s not the one you should be with.”

you stared at him, stunned. “excuse me? what gives you the right to say that?”

“i know,” heeseung said quickly, holding up his hands in a gesture that almost seemed like surrender.

“i know i don’t have the right. but i can’t stand watching you with him any longer.”

your chest tightened as his words hung in the air—you didn’t know what to say.

part of you wanted to snap back, to tell him that he had no business being jealous after what he did.

but the other part of you— the part that had been waiting for him to say something—was finally starting to understand.

heeseung’s voice softened, and he took a small step closer to you. “even if we’re enemies, even if we’ve always been rivals, i would never side with jake. i would never choose someone over you.”

you blinked, your mind racing. his words made no sense. “then why didn’t you defend me in the cafeteria?” your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded, but the hurt was still there, sharp and raw.

heeseung flinched at the question, his jaw tightening. “i told you— i don’t know,” he sighed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“it was stupid. i didn’t realize how much i was hurting you. and when i saw you with jake…”

he trailed off, his eyes searching yours, desperate for you to understand what he was struggling to say.

“when you saw me with jake, what?” you pushed, your voice quieter now, the anger fading away into something softer.

heeseung swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours.

“when i saw you with him, i realized how much i messed up. i realized that i was losing you, and i didn’t know what to do.” he took another step closer, his eyes filled with regret.

“i’ve been trying to ignore it for so long—these feelings i have for you. but i can’t anymore.”

your breath hitched at his confession, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

heeseung, the person you’d spent your entire life competing with, the person who had always been rude and cocky, was standing in front of you, confessing that he liked you?

“feelings?” you echoed, your voice barely audible.

heeseung nodded, his expression raw and vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before.

“yeah. i’ve liked you for a long time, but i didn’t know how to handle it. so i pushed you away. i made everything about our rivalry because i didn’t know what else to do.”

his words hit you like a wave, crashing over you and leaving you breathless.

you didn’t know how to process it, didn’t know how to reconcile the heeseung you’d always known with the one standing in front of you now, baring his soul.

“i hurt you,” heeseung continued, his voice trembling slightly. “and i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. but i can’t stand the thought of you being with someone else. i don’t want to be your rival anymore. i don’t want to lose you.”

you stared at him, your heart pounding, your mind racing with thoughts.

this was everything you’d been trying to ignore, everything you’d pushed aside because you didn’t want to acknowledge the feelings that had been building up between you.

but now, standing here, with heeseung looking at you like he was afraid you were going to slip away, you couldn’t deny it any longer.

“i…” your voice faltered, your throat tight with emotion. “you’re an idiot.”

heeseung blinked, startled. “what?”

“you’re an idiot,” you repeated, shaking your head as a small, incredulous laugh escaped your lips.

“you spent all this time pushing me away when you could have just told me the truth earlier.”

heeseung opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, you closed the distance between you in one fast motion, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down into a kiss.

for a second, heeseung froze, clearly shocked by your sudden move.

but then, he kissed you back, his hands coming up to gently cup your face.

the kiss was soft, slow at first, but it quickly deepened as all the tension between you melted away.

it was like everything you’d been holding back, all the unspoken words, all the bottled-up emotions, were finally being released in that moment.

heeseung’s lips were warm and gentle, and he kissed you like he’d been wanting to for a long time—slowly, sweetly, as if he didn’t want the moment to end.

your heart raced in your chest, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you poured all of your frustration, confusion, and affection, into the kiss.

when you finally pulled away, breathless, you stared up at him, your cheeks flushed and your heart pounding.

heeseung’s eyes were wide with surprise, but there was a small, almost dazed smile tugging at his lips.

“i… i didn’t expect that,” he whispered, his voice shaky.

you smiled, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over you. “you’re such an idiot,” you said again, but this time, there was no bite to your words—just warmth.

heeseung let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “yeah,” he agreed, his voice thick with emotion. “i am.”

without thinking, you kissed him again, softer this time, more sure of yourself.

and as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, you realized that this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

the next day at school, everything felt different. it was subtle at first—a kind of quiet shift in the air that made you hyper-aware of heeseung’s presence the moment you walked into the classroom.

you weren’t used to this—the ease, the softness that seemed to have settled between you overnight.

after years of rivalry, the shift from enemies to something more felt almost surreal.

but then you saw him—heeseung sitting at his desk, already glancing over at you the second you stepped through the door.

his usual smirk was gone, replaced by a small, almost shy smile, and it sent a warm flutter through your chest.

you smiled back, the tension from the day before melting away as he held your gaze for just a moment longer than usual.

it was like the rivalry had evaporated overnight, leaving something softer in its place. and yet, the familiarity of your banter remained.

you slid into your seat, feeling a little lighter than you had in weeks.

there was no strawberry milk waiting on your desk this time, no snacks or apology notes, but the absence didn’t bother you.

the fact that heeseung had taken the time to talk to you, to open up the way he had, was more than enough.

still, you couldn’t help but notice that people were whispering.

it wasn’t loud or obvious, but every so often, you’d catch someone glancing your way, their eyebrows raised in curiosity.

mina, of course, was the first to bring it up.

“what’s going on with you and heeseung?” she asked as soon as you sat down for lunch.

her eyes were gleaming with excitement, clearly having picked up on the shift in dynamics. “you two are acting so different!”

you shrugged, trying to play it off as casually as you could. “we talked. that’s all.”

mina narrowed her eyes. “you talked? come on, you can’t tell me something didn’t happen. you guys have been enemies for, like, forever, and suddenly you’re all… smiley. it’s weird.”

you felt your cheeks heat up, and you looked down at your tray, trying to hide the small grin tugging at the corners of your lips. “it’s complicated.”

before mina could press you further, someone else slid into the seat next to you.

you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was—jake, with his usual easygoing smile and relaxed posture, leaned back in his chair as if he owned the place.

“so, you and heeseung, huh?” jake asked, his tone teasing.

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “not you too.”

jake chuckled, nudging you with his elbow. “hey, i’m just happy for you. i mean, after everything that happened… well, it’s nice to see you smile again.”

you peeked at him from between your fingers, grateful for his kindness.

jake had been there for you when you needed someone, and you’d grown closer over the past few weeks.

but now, things were different, and while you appreciated his friendship, you couldn’t deny the new fluttering feeling that came with thinking about heeseung.

still, you couldn’t resist teasing jake a little. “you’re not jealous, are you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

jake laughed, shaking his head. “nah, i could never compete with heeseung. that guy’s got it bad for you.”

the teasing tone in his voice made your cheeks flush, and you were about to reply when someone cleared their throat behind you.

you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was—the shift in the air—the quiet intensity—was unmistakable.

heeseung stood there, his gaze flickering between you and jake, his jaw clenched slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“what’s going on here?” he asked, his voice casual but with an underlying edge of jealousy.

jake grinned up at him, completely unfazed by the tension. “just talking, man. relax.”

heeseung didn’t move, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “right. well, we’ve got plans after school, don’t we?” his tone was directed at you now, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight possessiveness in his voice.

you blinked, caught off guard. “plans?”

heeseung’s lips quirked up into a small smile, his eyes locking onto yours with a look of softness that made your heart race. “yeah. walking home together, remember?”

you tried not to smile too widely, but it was impossible to hide the way your heart fluttered at his words.

jake, ever the instigator, raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

“oh, so it’s like that now?” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “guess i’ll have to find someone else to walk home with.”

heeseung shot him a look that was almost a glare, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. “yeah, you will.”

you rolled your eyes, though a small giggle escaped your lips. “heeseung, you’re being ridiculous.”

heeseung leaned down, resting one hand on the back of your chair as he looked down at you with a grin.

“maybe,” he admitted, his voice softer now, “but i don’t like sharing.”

the possessiveness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, but instead of feeling annoyed, you found it… oddly endearing.

you nudged him lightly. “you’re such a child.”

heeseung chuckled, the sound low and warm, before he straightened up, glancing once more at jake. “you’ll be fine without her, right?”

jake waved him off, laughing. “i’ll survive, don’t worry.”

just as you were about to stand up and leave with heeseung, a voice interrupted the playful atmosphere, slicing through the lightheartedness like a cold breeze.

“heeseung.”

you looked up to see haerin standing a few feet away, her expression unreadable, but there was something in her eyes that made your stomach twist.

she glanced between you and heeseung, her lips pressed into a thin line before she focused on him. “can we talk? alone.”

heeseung’s body tensed beside you, but instead of acknowledging her request, he tightened his grip on the back of your chair, his attention still fixed on you.

“no, i’m good,” heeseung said flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

haerin blinked, clearly not expecting the rejection. “i just wanted to—”

“i’m with someone right now,” heeseung cut her off, his voice firm but calm. “and i’d appreciate it if you left us alone.”

the sting of his words was evident in haerin’s eyes, but she didn’t argue.

after a moment, she let out a quiet scoff and walked away, her shoulders tense as she disappeared into the crowd.

you stared at heeseung, surprised by how easily he had brushed her off.

heeseung, who had spent so much time with her recently, was now acting like she didn’t even exist.

“was that necessary?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

heeseung shrugged, his expression softening as he looked at you. “what can i say? i’m done with all the games.”

you felt a warmth spread through your chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but smile.

the possessiveness, the way heeseung had stood by your side without hesitation—it all made you realize just how much had changed between you two.

as the day went on, the whispers and curious glances from your classmates only grew louder.

everyone seemed to be talking about you and heeseung, but you didn’t mind.

in fact, you kind of liked it. for once, the focus wasn’t on your rivalry—it was on something else, something sweeter.

at the end of the day, as promised, heeseung was waiting for you by the school gates.

you spotted him leaning casually against the fence, his hands stuffed in his pockets, but the moment he saw you, his face lit up with that soft smile that made your heart race.

“ready to go?” he asked, falling into step beside you as you started walking together.

you nodded, glancing up at him. “you know everyone’s talking about us, right?”

heeseung chuckled, shrugging. “let them talk.”

you rolled your eyes, but there was a lightness to your steps as you walked side by side.

it felt easy, natural—like this was how things were always supposed to be.

and for the first time in a long time, the space between you and heeseung wasn’t filled with tension or competition.

it was filled with something warmer, something that made your heart feel full.

as you walked, you noticed heeseung’s hand brush against yours, and before you could stop yourself, you reached out and intertwined your fingers with his.

heeseung glanced down at your hands, a look of surprise crossing his face before his smile widened, his grip tightening around yours.

neither of you said anything for a few minutes, just enjoying the silence and the feeling of walking together.

but eventually, you cleared your throat, glancing up at him with a teasing smile.

“so… are we, like, official now?”

heeseung slowed his pace, looking down at you with an amused grin. “official?”

“you know what i mean,” you said, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “boyfriend and girlfriend.”

heeseung’s expression softened at your words, and he stopped walking, turning to face you fully.

he gently cupped your face with one hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

“yeah,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. “i want us to be official. if you do, too.”

your heart swelled at the tenderness in his eyes, and you felt a soft smile spread across your lips. “i do.”

heeseung’s eyes sparkled with something like relief and joy, and before you could say anything else, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

it was slow, gentle, and filled with all the unspoken promises of this new chapter you were beginning together.

when he pulled back, you were both smiling, a quiet warmth settling between you.

“good,” heeseung murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. “because i’m not letting you go.”

you laughed softly, your heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. “i’m not going anywhere.”

with that, the two of you continued walking home, hand in hand, your steps perfectly in sync.

and as the sun shimmered down lower in the sky, you knew that this was the start of something beautiful—something that had been building for far longer than either of you had realized.

heeseung was no longer just your rival—he was your boyfriend.

and honestly? it felt perfect.

© won4kiss 2024

❝ PLEASE REBLoG AND LiKE .ᐟㅤ 💌

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[kaciidubs]

Talk Dirty [Like You Need Love]

This song has me thinking heavily about expanding this into a fuller fic, so if people end up liking it, maybe I'll go ahead and finish it further! ✧ Summary: Chris was a great friend, picking you up from work whenever you had a late shift - so, it was only fair that you wanted to repay him. ✧  ✧ Word Count: 3.5k ✧ Warnings: Biker!AU, friends to ???, smut, slight dom! Chris, open ended ✧  ✧ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ✧  ✧ Additional Tags: Reader is referred to as Baby, Good Girl, Pretty, Chris is referred to as Baby, Channie ✧ Stray Kids Masterlist ✧ General Masterlist

The streetlights came and went in intermittent strobes, passing over the two of you as his motorcycle hummed along the sparsely occupied street.

Your arms were wrapped securely around his waist just as he’d taught you, the warmth of your body against his back combating the chill of the crisp night air - he really wished he hadn’t forgotten his hoodie in his rush to pick you up.

“Are you cold?” 

As if reading his mind, your voice floated through the comms of his helmet and he shook his head, “I’m alright, baby - don’t worry about me.”

Of course, you weren’t easily swayed - it was a quality he loved about you, no matter how much he preferred to be the one to look out for everyone else, you were always there to double back on him with undeterrable determination; proved by the way you leaned a little more against his back.

He wouldn’t have thought twice about your sweet gesture if it weren’t for the shifting of your arms, your hands slowly splayed against his torso.

“I always worry about you, Chris…” Your voice was soft, dripping with sweet honey as your right hand wandered its way higher, following the soft defined path of his chest underneath his shirt. “It’s hard not to, if I’m honest.”

He took a short breath, unsure if this was truly happening or if his mind was playing tricks on him and twisting your intentions to fit his deep seated desires.

That is, until your left hand carefully danced its way to his thigh, sitting nicely against the cotton of his sweatpants.

“You always do so much for everyone else- do so much for me,” your hand flexed, nails pressing lightly against his thigh, “I just wanna do something for you in return, you know?”

The bike slowed to a roll as you reached a stoplight, Chris keeping the balance with his otherwise unoccupied leg while taking the opportunity to hold onto the outside of your own thigh.

“Be careful with your words, baby - you might give me the wrong idea.”

“Are my actions not enough?” You murmured, inching your hand higher, fingertips brushing along the inseam of his sweats, “Should I do more, Channie?”

His hand left the brake clutch to wrap around your wrist, electricity flowing through your veins like a completed circuit. “You shouldn’t do this. We shouldn’t do this.”

“But I want this, I need this.”

Your hand squeezed, your voice filling his head like the intoxicating lull of a siren’s call.

“I need you.”

Green.

Chris tapped your thigh, ignoring the chill that ran down his spine when you seamlessly went back to holding onto him just like he taught you; arms around his waist, your body against his back.

The ride to his apartment felt like second nature with you - much like other things he did with you, if he were honest with himself - and the moment he pulled into his parking spot, his movements only felt more natural.

Switch engine off. Kickstand down.

Your hands slid up his back, gripping his shoulders as you eased yourself off of his motorcycle, and by the time your touch left him, Chris hopped from his seat with learned grace - his hands unbuckling and taking off his helmet in record time.

By the time your own helmet was off, cradled in your arms, his intense gaze caught your eyes, locking you in a stare off that said more than words could convey, yet their true meaning would be lost to memory with what left his lips.

“Are you sure about this?” He breathed, “Tell me right now and I’ll take you home, and we can pretend none of this happened - just, tell me.”

“Chris,” his name fluttered from your lips like butterfly wings, “I meant every word, I’m sure, I’m so sure-”

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours - the warmth of his palm settling on your cheek in a hold that dared your knees to give out from underneath you - but as fast as they’d appeared, they vanished, leaving you dazedly blinking up at deep brown eyes.

“C’mon.”

The journey up to his apartment was a blur; the melodic chime of the front door’s lock welcoming you to the final stage of your decision as he ushered you through the doorway.

Shoes haphazardly kicked off next to another pile of pairs and helmets stored on a shelf, the empty living room was graced with your presence for what felt like half a second before you were finally where you needed to be.

Chris’s room was a place you’d only been inside of a handful of times, if not to stick your head in to announce your arrival when hanging out with his roommates, then to visit whenever he had a new snippet of a song he wanted to share; there wasn’t a chance for a tour then, and there certainly wouldn’t be a tour now.

With a subtle flick of a switch, the once dark room was suddenly bathed in a dim glow from the led lights lining the ceiling - warm and welcoming, much like the arms that wrapped around you from behind, followed by a soft pair of lips you were quickly getting used to pressing against the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His hold grew tighter as his lips ventured higher - a dotted line of kisses, a brush of his breath against the back of your ear, followed by the ghost of his lips along the shell. 

“Are you still sure?”

Your eyelids fluttered, your lips parting to sigh out words evoked from the fantasies of your deepest desires, “I’m yours.”

He turned you around, and for the first time you were able to truly appreciate the feeling of his lips against your own - soft, likely from the myriad of lip care products your friends tease him for, a sensation you could find yourself craving every day and never growing tired of in the end.

You kissed him back with fervor, taking the liberty of cupping the line of his jaw with one hand while the other cradled the back of his neck, the faint curls of his hair tickling your fingertips.

Chris was the first to pull away, gifting you a fleeting peck when you tried in vain to follow him, just to reach overhead and tug his shirt up and off before unceremoniously dropping it to the floor. However, he barely gave you the chance to admire the view as his hands went to help you out of your hoodie while your own hands hastily went to tug up your shirt in the messy, frantic process.

Two articles down, the warmth of his hands were now free to meet your waist and his lips were on yours once more; his hold tightening as he took a step forward, nudging and guiding you backward until the backs of your legs met the edge of his bed. Obliging to his silent request, you sat down, using the strength in your arms to wiggle yourself up enough to lay comfortably on the full sized mattress and welcome the weight of him on top of you until it wasn’t.

Looking up, you were met with his heated stare, all but devouring you with his eyes as he took in the view - though, you figured you fared the same way when your eyes ventured down, following the strong slope of his shoulders before taking in the sight of his chest.

It wasn’t a view you hadn’t seen before thanks to his aversion of shirts in his own home - granted, it was his apartment, so you couldn’t fault him for the times he’d come out of his room to see you happily chatting away with his roommates unbeknownst to him - but you could now appreciate the details you wouldn’t have taken in otherwise such as defined pectorals and the smallest beginnings of abs against his otherwise soft stomach.

Ending the unintentional standoff, Chris lent forward, his fingertips just barely grazing your lower stomach as they went to the button of your jeans, “Can I?”

“Please.”

The corner of his lips ticked up but he ducked his head before you could see the smirk blossom, though you couldn’t find yourself to care once your jeans were undone, lifting your hips to help him shuffle the garment down the length of your legs and watching him give them the same fate as your shirts.

“These too?” He mused with a teasing lilt, eyes flicking from your own to the plain black panties you wore.

A short huff brushed past your lips, an unamused pout pursuing them. “Chris.”

The sound of his delighted giggles bounced off the walls, reducing the heat of arousal to a nice simmer that your nerves greatly appreciated - that is, until his fingers hooked underneath the waistband and slowly pulled them off; the sensation of his knuckles dragging along your thighs drawing a soft gasp from you.

It wasn’t long until they were down your legs, past your feet, and dropped off the edge of the bed, leaving you entirely bare from the waist down.

“Fuck…” He breathed, propping his knee on the bed as his hands slid up from your calves to the backs of your knees, caressing your skin before gently bringing them up and out - exposing your pussy to his pure delight. “Look at you, pretty girl.”

A wave of heat washed over you followed by an embarrassed whimper, “Chris, don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Looking up, he cocked his head slightly, “You said you were mine, which means I’m allowed to compliment what’s mine, yeah?” He bent down, maintaining eye contact as he kissed your knee softly, “You belong to me, right, baby?”

Your heart jumped to your throat, his words working like a spell against your lust addled mind.

“I belong to you.” You breathed softly, melting into his hypnotizing gaze.

A pleased hum vibrated through him as he dipped his head to kiss the inside of your thigh, his lips brushing against your skin, “Good girl.”

His kisses trailed higher and higher, growing messier and messier as he went - a nip here, a suck there, open mouthed and worshiping until he reached your pussy.

Just as he was about to dive in face first, your hand tugged at his hair, effectively breaking him out of his tunnel vision to give you his undivided attention.

“What’s wrong? Do you wanna stop? I can-”

“No! God, no - it’s just…” You took a deep breath, your bravado escaping you the instant you stopped him, “I want you to eat me out, but I wanna suck your dick too. I wanna make you feel good too, Channie”

“You wanna suck my dick, pretty?” A shiver ran down Chris’s spine at the mere thought, his dick painfully straining underneath his boxer briefs and sweats. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that? Words like that coming from a mouth like yours - you’re a fucking dream.”

His presence left from between your legs and part of you felt silly for missing it until you saw him reaching for his sweatpants - even through the black fabric you were able to make out the noticeable bulge tenting the front - the waistband of Calvin Klein nudging you in the right direction of what he wore underneath.

Pushing both articles past his hips, your eyes were immediately glued to the dips in his pelvis - the Adonis belt, a fitting alternate description of his v-line until your attention jumped to a scattering of hair beneath his navel leading to seemingly maintained pubic hair.

However, your peep show was obscured by his head as he bent forward to take his clothes off the rest of the way, giving you the chance to mentally prepare for the grand reveal. By the time he stood straight again, you couldn’t help the audible gasp that left you, your eyes widening as you took him in all his glory - all of the jokes his friends would make now having validity behind their digs.

“I hope that’s a good reaction…” Chris spoke sheepishly, his ears as red as a tomato as he averted his eyes to the side, one hand twitching to cover himself while the other anxiously rubbed the back of his neck.

“Chris,” your soft call was enough to bring his eyes back to you, just in time to see you undoing your bra and tossing it to the floor, “I really want you in my mouth, baby.”

The air of shyness quickly left him as he smirked, making his way back onto the bed, “Say please.”

Reaching forward, your fingers danced along the underside of his jaw before you whispered, “Please?”

It was almost instantaneous in the way you found yourself straddled over his face, his hands massaging the plush of your thighs as if he couldn’t get enough of the way they squished and jiggled under his hold.

You leaned forward, eyes eagerly taking in his dick from the new angle; he was thick, probably an inch over average if you had to guess, with the prettiest veins that begged for your tongue to trace them.

“Don’t force yourself to take me, okay?” He called from the other end, the feeling of his breath against your cunt sending chills down your spine. “I know I’m… y’know, big, so I don’t want you to hurt yourself to make me feel good - you letting me do this is more than enough, baby.”

“I can do it Channie,” spitting into your palm, you graciously took him into your hand with a slow stroke, “I’ll be okay.”

A low groan escaped him, your sudden touch sending him into the stratosphere, “Just- Be careful for me, alright?”

Humming in agreement, you wasted no time in littering his tip in butterfly kisses and kitten licks, slowly getting yourself used to the bittersweet taste of his precum.

“Shit…” Not holding himself back any longer, Chris slid his hands up to your hips before pulling you back onto his mouth, his tongue eagerly diving between your folds as if it were an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day.

The action made you jolt forward, though you barely moved an inch thanks to his hold on you, your lips parting to let a moan float through.

“Mm, not too loud, baby,” he spoke against your pussy, kissing the hood of your clit, “don’t wanna wake up my roommates, yeah?”

As much as the idea called to something daring within you, you shook your head, using this as an opportunity to take the first few inches of his cock into your mouth; just enough to have the weight settle on your tongue while your hand stroked what you hadn’t gotten to yet.

“There you go.”

With that, he went back to exploring your pussy with his tongue, dipping past your walls every now and then before going back to dancing around your clit - his hands enjoying their new home on the curve of your ass.

To say the feeling of his mouth on you was mind numbing would’ve been the understatement of a lifetime - it was as if he was eating you out in the most respectfully disrespectful way, the sounds of his lips sucking your clit paired with low, breathless moans before he went back to lapping up your arousal was pure debauchery.

You tried your best to be diligent, bobbing your head in time with the curls of his tongue against your slit while your fist used whatever drool that dripped from your lips as lubricant to keep each stroke smooth and slick - your efforts not going in vain by the way his thigh would flex, or the twitch of his hips - but you were quickly falling victim to the pleasure.

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he mouthed against your pussy, as if moving even an inch away would be detrimental to his psyche, “could stay here forever.”

The thought had you moaning around his cock, pulling away to give your lungs the reprieve of a full breath, only for a whined exhale to follow suit. “C-Chris, please.”

“Please, what?” Flattening his tongue, he licked a fat stripe up before giving your clit the lightest kiss imaginable, “Gonna come for me, pretty? Is that what you want?”

“N-No,” dropping your face to his thigh, you focused all of your energy into keeping your hand moving, “w-wanna make you come first, just- shit, just slow down a little!”

Chris hummed, feigning deep consideration, “But what if I want you to come for me?” His right hand slid further between your legs, his index finger stroking your fluttering walls with the promise of something more, “You said you wanted to repay me - so, let me make you come.”

Your hips bucked, muscles yearning to press back against the pressure to send you over the edge you were dangerously teetering over. “But-”

“Baby,” the velvet drawl of the pet name earned a pitiful hum in response, “you wanna make me feel good, don’t you?” He felt your head nod against his thigh, huffing out a short chuckle before continuing, “You wanna ‘repay’ me for everything I do for you, right?”

“Yes.” You sighed out, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his thumb replacing his finger in favor of toying with your clit.

“Well, guess what?” Dragging his thumb up, he pressed it against your slit, “Watching you come for me- Feeling you come for me is all I could ever want from you,” slowly pushing his thumb past your walls, he ghosted his lips against your inner thigh, “show me how good I’m making you feel, baby - do it for me, please.”

He punctuated his plea by swirling his tongue around your clit once more, thrusting his thumb in time with each flick while his left hand held your hip tightly.

Your mouth fell open, a moan fighting its way through your vocal chords only to come out as choked gasps, “Ch-ah- Channie- Fuck- Channie p-please-”

Pressing his thumb in to the knuckle, Chris wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, humming out a low moan that proved to be the final straw to push you over the edge.

“Chris- C-Chris-!” Lifting your head, you put your mouth over your arm in hopes of muffling the airy moans escaping you, your vision blurring behind pleasure-fueled tears as he worked you through your orgasm.

His thumb slipped from your entrance to make room for his tongue to lap up your cum, drinking you up like a tall glass of water after a day in the sun.

It didn’t take long for you to catch your bearings, going to move away from his face until his hands tightened on your hips in silent challenge, a disgruntled grunt rising from your pure audacity of interrupting him.

“Channie, ‘s too much,” you whined breathlessly, wrenching your hand away from his - still hard - dick in favor of pushing yourself up onto your arms, “c-can’t take it, baby, please.”

Pulling away with a lewd slurp, Chris heaved a heavy breath, combating the lightheadedness of his tunnel vision while you carefully maneuvered yourself away from him - shuffling around to hover your head over a pillow before collapsing in the empty space, your body gratefully welcoming the cool sheets against your skin.

Bated breaths danced in the otherwise quiet atmosphere, Chris’s gaze locked on the ceiling as his lust-fogged brain tried to make sense of what just happened between the two of you.

“Channie?”

His heart fluttered at your soft call of his name, turning his head just to come across a sight that made his breath catch; you, his friend, laying beside him looking beautifully ruined with the golden afterglow of your orgasm that he gave you emanating from your body.

He tentatively licked his lips, goosebumps rising as your taste still lingered in his mouth, “Yeah, baby?”

“I still wanna make you come.” You murmured softly, eyes blinking at him so innocently it almost felt wrong that it made his dick twitch at the sight. “I still owe you, after all.”

Chris huffed out a chuckle, lifting himself onto his forearm before hoisting himself above you, settling his hips between your legs as he caged you in with his arms - this was a sight he could get used to.

“Instead of making this out to be you repaying a debt, how about we turn it into a ‘thank you’ gift, hm?” Leaning his head down, he brushed his nose against yours, “You thank me for the ride and the orgasm,” his lips ghosted against your own, “then I thank you for thanking me.”

“Chris, that won’t make any sense,” your voice was barely a whisper, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, “if you thank me, I’ll just thank you back - we’ll be in a loop.”

“We’ll work out the details later, then.” He murmured before leaning forward, catching your lips with his and sharing your taste off of his tongue.

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[leafsheep]

Some random thoughts about Gothamites and scenarios I’ve come up with.

Metropolis citizen: Yeah so my exams were cancelled bc some villain took over the city the week leading up to them so the school said not to worry about it.

Gothamite: Fr? Last time a villain took over our city he killed anyone who wasn’t smart and had us take extra exams.

~~

Random Gotham kid: Hey teach, can I get an extension on my essay, my neighborhood was fear toxin-ed a few days ago and I’m just getting out of the hospital.

Standard Gotham High School Teacher: ohhh yeah…. Nooooo… sorry Jimmy but you know you had a week to do the assignment soo… you should’ve planned ahead.

~~

Health/PE teacher: Yeah so I don’t really wanna teach y’all today so we’re gonna watch this top ten video of Riddler’s shittiest riddles.

Student: after can we watch this compilation I found of the murder Robin interacting with stray cats?

~~

A Wayne kid just walking down the street

Gothamite: Can you give your dad this?

Wayne child: ??? This is a phone number.

Gothamite: Yeah, maybe you could talk me up too?

Wayne child: You’re MY age

Gothamite: Why does that matter?

Wayne Child: evident disgust

Gothamite: OH no, I want him to adopt me.

Gothamite: he’s our dad now.

~~

Gothamite: Did you hear that bizarre theory about the Robins being clones of each other? I mean wasn’t one of them a girl? How would that even work??

Bernard Dowd (made said theory for shits and giggles, also knows it’s complete bullshit): Maybe that clone was trans! Are you being transphobic right now? God I can’t believe you-

~~

Reporter: Video feed shows the infamous Red Hood standing bewildered next to his motorcycle at four am this morning, having apparently found it missing his tires. Eyewitnesses to the scene report Bludhaven Vigilante laughing outside of camera view.