#someone was looking for this & i had it down loaded

[norrisradio]

PEACH RING PROMISES

LINE BY LINE ᝰ.ᐟ “I know a place / It's somewhere I go when I need to remember your face / We get married in our heads / Something to do while we try to recall how we met” - The 1975, About You

ᝰ PAIRING: oscar piastri x f!reader | ᝰ WC: 1.1K ᝰ GENRE: established relationship, oscar is in love, there is a little baby cousin involved ᝰ INCOMING RADIO: this has been gathering dust in my wips for like. a week now but was then locked and loaded for an oscar miami win // not beta-read. we die like men ꨄ requested by @estellaelysian !

Some people go to church; you go to the treehouse. 

It sits crooked at the edge of the Piastri property line, half-swallowed by jasmine vines and the hum of summer. The planks are sun-bleached and splintering, nailed together with the blind optimism that only dads and four-year-olds share. But it’s still standing – stubborn, quiet, familiar – like the memory of a face you’ll never forget. 

Today, it overlooks a backyard choked with folding chairs and sunburnt uncles, picnic blankets and toddlers sugar-high on too many juice boxes. The barbeque is in full swing – OScar’s mum’s at the grill, his dad’s holding court with a beer in one hand and a story in the other, and someone’s blasting Seven Nation Army from a portable speaker (you swear you see Oscar roll his eyes when some of his family members start changing the lyrics to include his name).

You had just finished your second helping of potato salad when Theo, Oscar’s five-year-old cousin and self-appointed general of the under-five army, came barreling toward the two of you like a missile in Paw Patrol socks. 

“Hide and seek!” he declared, panting, cheeks red. “You’re it!” 

Oscar looked up from your shared plate, looking deeply betrayed. “Why am I always it?” 

“Because you’re tall!” Theo whined, tugging at his hand. “And you never play with me.” 

Which was a bold accusation, considering Oscar had spent the morning pushing him around on a plastic trike and pretending to be a race car announcer. Still, Oscar hesitated – eyeing the shady comfort of the patio – until you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Come on,” you murmured, soft and smug. “Don’t make me count.” 

So he sighed, knelt down, and covered his eyes with a dramatic groan. “One…. two…. three…” 

You slipped away, giggling, weaving past lawn chairs and coolers and sticky-fingered children until you reached the edge of the yard, ducking beneath the canopy of trees. 

And now, here you are. 

The treehouse looks almost shy, peeking out between branches. The ladder’s still rickety, the walls still wonky, but it holds you like it remembers you. You climb inside and sit cross-legged on the floorboards, brushing dust from the heart you once drew into the wood with a rock. Your initials, backwards and misshapen, look like you carved them yesterday. 

You got married here once – four years old, caked in mud, with Hattie (barely out of pull-ups, in a bright orange tutu) acting as both officiant and chief witness. You gave Oscar a peach ring. He cried when you ate it thirty minutes later. 

You kissed his cheek with grass-stained lips and told him he was silly. “We don’t need a ring,” you’d said, wiping his nose with the hem of your shirt. “We love each other. That’s the proof.” 

You don’t hear the ladder creak, but you know it’s him before he speaks. 

“Hiya,” Oscar says, ducking into the doorway like a hippo trying to fit into a china shop. His grin is crooked. Warm. His curls are longer now, haloing his face like he’s been touched by sunlight. 

“How’d you find me?” 

“Our wedding venue,” he says drily, brushing a leaf from your hair. “Bit of a cop-out though. You didn’t even try.” 

You scoff and whip a twig at him. It bounces harmlessly off his shoulder. “You weren’t even counting properly,” you reply. “Hattie taught you better than that.” 

He folds himself beside you like an accordion, limbs gangly, knees knocking into yours. “God,” he mutters, glancing around. “We were tiny.” 

“You still are,” your chirp. That earns you a pinch to your side. You shriek and nearly kick out a support beam. 

When the air settles, you rest your chin on your knee and say, “If we get married-”

“When we get married,” he correct instantly, poking your ribs. 

You roll your eyes but the corners of your mouth betray you. “Fine. When we get married, have you thought about the venue?”

He hums thoughtfully, shifting to lie down with his head in your lap. You card your fingers through his curls, watching them spring back into place. They curve around his ears, golden at the tips, soft as they were when he was four and you made him cry. 

“What’s wrong with the venue of our first wedding?” he asks, cracking one eye open. “I’ve heard great things about the officiant. Real prodigy.” 

You snort. “She also tried to eat a snail halfway through the vows.” 

“A creative soul.” 

Before you can respond, the hatch slams open. 

“You FORGOT about me, Oz!” Theo screeches, hauling himself into the treehouse with all the righteous fury of a betrayed war general. 

Oscar barely has time to yelp before Theo flops into your lap like a royal cat, shoving Oscar’s head out of the way with a chubby hand. 

“I was winning,” Oscar insists, pressing loud, dramatic kisses to his cousin’s sticky curls and apologizing like it’s the end of the world. You laugh until your sides ache. 

Eventually, Oscar untangles himself and groans, cracking every joint like he’s been in a clown car. “There’s only so much cramping a man can take,” he says, grabbing Theo under the arms and turning back to you with an outstretched hand. 

You take it. 

The descent is careful – Theo held like a football, your hand snug in his. Your feet hit the grass and the smell of charcoal and sunscreen floods your lungs. 

“You guys would be a good mommy and daddy,” Theo announces suddenly, chin tilted up, tone as casual as if he were commenting on the weather. 

Oscar throws a cheeky wink at you over his head. You groan and shake your head, the laugh bubbling up anyways. 

“BUT!” Theo says quickly, yanking your hand to pull you closer like he’s about to reveal state secrets. “Maisie told me mommies and daddies have to be married. Are you guys MARRIED?” 

“Yes,” Oscar says immediately, just as you snap, “No!” 

“Oscar!” you slap his chest, scandalized. 

“What?” he shrugs, entirely unbothered, not even trying to hide the smile. “Feels true.” 

Theo frowns. “Where are your rings? Married people have rings.” 

Oscar reaches for your hand and you swat it away, faking disgust. He smirks. “We don’t need them,” he says easily. “We’re in love.”

His cousin accepts this with a sage nod only toddlers can pull off, then wriggles free and barrels across the yard, lungs at full capacity. 

“MUM! MUM! OSCAR IS MARRIED! THEY’RE MARRIED! I SAW! THEY SAID!” 

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder. “He’s going to tell your entire family.” 

Oscar just grins, stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your shoulders. “It’s already happened once,” he says, brushing a kiss to your temple. “And it’s going to happen again. Isn’t it?” 

You don’t answer – not out loud. But your fingers find his where they rest over your heart, and you hold them there. 

[earlysunshines]

dontcha (want me?)

kang haerin x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: haerin doesn’t like you just because and then you hit her in the head with a volleyball and now she has a valid reason to not like you but now YOU have a reason to try to warm up to her

warnings: volleyball player!reader ; haerin is just like me in this I easily hate ; brief one sided enemies to lovers but very brief ; reader lowk whipped ; haerin whipped but she hides it better... maybe ; pure fluff no angst isn't that crazy ; so cute icl ; anything else I didn't mention ; haven't written in twenty years basically this is nooot my best ; not proofread

a/n: you don't understand how much i appreciate haerin's cover of dontcha (listen while you read!! or at least near the second half lolol) bc I'm so obsessed I keep looping the song that song is my everything... also, tried a diff pacing/writing style so lmk what u guys think :-P

haerin never really liked you. 

she’s never actually met you, but in her defense, once she has a reason not to like someone (or that tiny feeling in her gut that draws her away), the feeling grows and grows—quietly, steadily—until it fills every space it can. and you? you’ve given her plenty to work with.

considering your athletic reputation as the university’s star outside hitter, you're relatively well-known around campus. that’s her first strike—not that it’s a bad thing, just enough for haerin to put you in a different world in her mind. two sides of a coin. peas of different pods—and so forth. you’re louder, more outgoing, bright in a way that feels abrasive to her more reserved nature.

your friends don’t help your case either. they snicker during lectures while haerin is trying to take notes, organize her planner, or simply pay attention. even in the halls of the building or on the  respective way to your classes—you somehow manage to pass by her at least twice a day—-your friends are making you push them away because they made you laugh too hard and suddenly the quiet of the arts building is filled with your voice.

so, she didn’t really acknowledge you at first despite the connections you shared with two of her friends eunchae and minji. but when you decided to switch majors before your second semester and started spending more time in her building, ruining the comfortable routine and atmosphere,  that was the beginning of her personal second semester curse.

(haerin’s heard of the infamous second semester curse; she figured it’d just be due to a heavier academic load and whatnot, not for it to manifest in the form of you.)

and if she was being honest, you’d never actually done anything to her. haerin was just being a little more judgmental than she liked to admit—or as her best friend danielle would say, “you’re just being the usual haerin”—and you, all bright and loud, were simply everything she wasn’t very fond of. it was easier to dislike you that way.

but today, she finally had a tangible reason to back up her detestation.

“holy shit—” haerin hears you curse, your voice panicked as sneakers squawk against the gym floor.

the world spins a little as haerin presses her palm against her head, wincing. 

you’re already sprinting over, wide-eyed and breathless, guilt written all over your face as you slow down to a stop.

“i’m so sorry,” you blurt, unsure of what to do now that you’re right in front of her. “i swear i wasn’t aiming for you—are you okay? can you stand? should i get someone? oh my god i’m so sorry!”

your voice fully registers in her mind and through the haze of pain, haerin blinks up at you.

of course it had to be you.

of course you had to hit her.

of course you had to look at her like that—so worried, so intense.

and for some reason, that annoys her even more.

“i’m fine.” haerin says through gritted teeth, holding the side of her face that was pummeled by a volleyball. now it makes sense why you’re the star outside hitter, because it hurt. it wasn’t even your worst spike. 

she grumbles, “could you watch where you’re hitting next time?”

“i’m so sorry, really.” you hesitate, hand still hovering awkwardly in the air before it reaches over to haerin’s so you can check the side of her face, but she steps back.

“seriously,” she says, sharper this time. “i’m fine.”

you flinch a little at her tone, guilt flashing across your features before you try to cover it up with a sheepish smile. 

“right, um, sorry.” you say, backing off and biting the inside of your lip. “but seriously, i’m so sorry. you can, um, like, hit me back if you want? you can throw the volleyball at my face in return—ah, um, revenge. eye for an eye? or i can treat you to something… if you…”

your voice dies down at the sight of her glare, and because she’s taken her hand off her face and wow the color is nasty—a dark red that might just fade into a near purple in the next hour.

she looks at you, unimpressed, and flatly says, “i’m not five.”

you laugh under your breath, scratching the back of your neck. “fair. but if you change your mind, i won’t argue back or anything,” you offer, pointing to your cheek dramatically. “free shot. no consequences.”

for a second, haerin truly wants to slap you in the face. she wants to roll her eyes and walk away. wants to keep being annoyed, to keep clinging to that righteous, simmering dislike she’s built up for no reason.

but you stand there so weirdly genuine and stupidly endearing in your own loud, clumsy way that makes it harder for her to hate on you the way she wants to. 

she huffs—loud enough for you to hear and swallow lightly from her terrifying energy—then gives you a small groan before turning and walking away without another word.

behind her, you raise your voice just a bit as you call out, cheerful despite the tension, “i’ll take that as a maybe!”

haerin doesn’t turn around. she just keeps walking, cheeks nearly as warm as the side of her head.

—

the next day haerin has to add a good two layers of color corrector, concealer, and foundation in order to cover up the giant bruise on the side of her face. 

after the incident yesterday, the nurse gave her an ice pack and a “take care!” to compensate for your damage because ‘regular’ university students do not get the same attention as an athlete with a torn acl, unfortunately.

she sits down at her usual spot for her music history class, pulling out her laptop and current reading for the course as she waits for hanni. but before hanni can steal a seat next to her, someone else does.

“hi, i don’t know if you remember me. i mean, you probably do…” haerin glances to her right, jaw tensing at the sight of you and hearing your voice. “i, um, got you this…”

you hand her a small box of strawberry chocolate bites, offering her a small smile to break the tension. 

but haerin doesn’t give in.

“why?” she asks.

“what?”

“i don’t need your chocolate,” haerin responds flatly. “you can go back to your friends now.” she adds, redirecting her attention back on the book in front of her. 

“no, no. please, i—i insist. i’ve been on that end, worse than what you had to endure though, and it’s really bad, just—”

“just because i’m not you doesn’t mean i can’t handle a ball hitting my face. i’m good, are we done?”

haerin notices the look of shock that makes your features twitch slightly. you avoid eye contact then, pursing a smile before pushing the chocolate toward her. 

“look. i’m not the type of person to let these things slide. it might seem small to me, but i want to make it up to you. take these chocolates for now,” you sigh, standing up. haerin looks up at you curiously, her expression never shifting as you finally say, “bye.”

—

there was a noticeable routine throughout the next two weeks that you couldn’t seem to break.

you’d cross paths with haerin often, because apparently fate had a terrible sense of humor, and you made sure to acknowledge her each time. it started off small” a smile, nod, or a soft “hey” in her direction. none of it was overbearing, just… persistent. it’s how you are.

even when haerin pretended to notice (she sure noticed each and every time), you never faltered. if her gaze so much as brushed yours, you’d light up immediately, offering a little wave that would never fail to be left hanging. 

in class, it was the same. she always sat in the same spot — the third row from the front, fourth seat in — and you always scanned the room for her as soon as you walked in. when you found her (which you always did), you’d stroll past, knock gently on the edge of her desk with your knuckles, and smile before heading to your own seat across the room.

haerin didn’t understand any of it.

why were you being so nice to her? what were your intentions?

it was all so… strange.

hitting her in the head shouldn’t have led to… whatever this was. she’d expected you to move on and forget it. you have much bigger things to worry about anyway, as the outside hitter. instead, it felt like you were making a point to force your way into her peripheral vision every single day.

she’d been skeptical, very skeptical. she’d spend a few minutes zoned out, trying to think about what you were up to, and why it seemed so welcoming. but no, haerin can’t give in. that’s not like her, not for someone like you.

it wasn’t until her confusion simmered down that she found herself out one afternoon with her group of friends huddled around a crowded table at a campus cafe, sipping on iced teas.

“remember when you told us about the volleyball-to-your-head incident?” minji asks, switching the conversation topic from the most annoying professor to you.

haerin raises a brow. “yeah, why?”

“y/n’s been spiraling because of it.” minji says casually, twirling her straw. “because of you.”

haerin blinks, caught mid-sip. “...what?”

“yeah.” minji grins. “she thinks you hate her. she feels awful about it.”

hanni nods, a bite of a sandwich halfway to her mouth. “i feel bad for the girl,” she adds around a mouthful, earning a look from danielle. “sorry dani. but yeah, minji was telling me about it kinda. damn.”

“so you’re just going to tell hanni about a story that involves… me? without telling me first?” haerin rolls her eyes playfully.

“okay well to be fair she’s my roommate so how about that.” minji argues. “anyway, ever since the volleyball thing,” she continues, leaning forward like she’s about to drop the craziest news ever (knowing minji, it’s probably not that crazy), “she’s been convinced she made an enemy out of you. like, actually upset about it. she keeps asking me if she should apologize again, if she’s being annoying, if she should just stop trying…”

haerin stares at her, stunned into silence.

you? of all people? spiraling because of… her?

 “maybe she’s just not used to people like you, ‘rinnie. i don’t know her like that but i heard she’s very lively and outgoing and basically your complete opposite.” danielle giggles softly. “and i thought i was bad.”

“plus, she thinks you’re like a ghost or something. she sees you everywhere, apparently,” minji adds with a laugh. “she’s kinda going insane.”

for a long moment, haerin just sits there, her fingers gliding along the condensation on her cup. the irritation that she pairs up with you in her head fizzles away just a little.

she hadn’t realized it got to you that much. she never realized how much you truly cared about how she was affected by your killer spike.

maybe, haerin thinks, maybe she’d been a little too quick to judge. 

maybe you’re not just loud and obnoxious. maybe you’re just trying to mend things.

“i guess i’ll be a little nicer. you can’t blame me though, that bruise was purple. i’m just glad it wasn’t that close to my eye.”

“i’ve had worse.” minji snickers, earning a glare from her.

—

today, you have your music history class. 1pm on tuesdays and thursdays, seventy-five minutes long, and one of two classes you have with kang haerin.

you also share the class with two of your teammates: kazuha, the most reliant, talented setter you know, and yunjin, whose killer vertical and presence at the net make her the best middle blocker in the region. 

while the two are a dream combination on the court, they’re a nightmare in any academic setting.

out of the three of you, you tend to be a little more reserved, which says a lot. your composure breaks without fail because they’re so loud and unfortunately so hilarious that it makes you cackle and completely lose any self-awareness in class, or anywhere in general.

yunjin’s nudging you as you three walk up the stairs, teasing you as soon as you reach the second level of the building.

“are you ready to be ignored by kang again?” she snickers, grinning from ear to ear. “i think she hates you even more after all of whatever you’re doing.”

“oh shut up.” you groan, shoving her with your shoulder. “look, i’m trying to be nice. do you know how fucking bad it is to get hit in the head with a volleyball? dude, that wasn’t even my best. it was practice. i feel so bad… one time i got hit by ryujin’s spike and—”

you shiver, remembering how puffy and purple your face had been after the game against your rivals. you looked like you’d gone ten rounds in a boxing ring.

and you can’t stop thinking about haerin after, pinching the bridge of her nose at the thought of her. the faint swelling after the incident, the way her concealer couldn’t quite cover the bruise. the fact that she hadn’t said a word about it, just sat there stiff and silent the next day in class.

“—i need to make it up to her.” you mumble under your breath, almost to yourself.

“wow. i’ve never seen you so sorry.” kazuha hums thoughtfully, sipping on whatever flavored latte she has in her hand. then, she nudges you, nodding her head toward the woman you injured two weeks ago. “but seriously, it’s impressive. i’ve never seen someone make being nice this tragic— hey, now’s your time to shine.”

you glance up.

it’s nine in the morning and you always pass haerin on your way to your first class of the day. today is no different. 

she’s put together, headphones in, and headed straight towards you. 

you feel a lump in your throat. every day, every time, you say hi. and every day, every time, she ignores you.

but you can’t help yourself. you swallow lightly, raising a hand and smiling at haerin. to your surprise—she looks up and meets your eyes, holding the contact for a second longer than usual, something almost unreadable shimmering along the surface before she shifts her gaze forward like it’s nothing, continuing down teh hall.

she acknowledged you. 

you turn to watch her walk away, stunned. “guys, maybe she doesn’t hate me.” you gasp under your breath.

“or maybe: you’re delusional.” yunjin clicks her tongue. “there was probably something on your face.”

“was there?” you say in a slight panic, pulling out your phone to check yourself out. there’s nothing but your plain old face, the face that haerin looked at for four whole seconds.

you can’t be delusional, there’s no way.

when you go to your next class, your spirits are still lifted. you step into music history half an hour later. kazuha and yunjin are already in their seats since you left them to go grab something from your car, and by the time you glance over they’re laughing at something on yunjin’s phone. you linger longer by the door, adjusting your hoodie.

out of habit, your eyes find haerin—third row from the front, fourth seat in—posture perfect with her laptop in front of her, earbuds out now.

something is different this time when you look at her, because she’s already looking at you.

you feel your breath catching. a flash of nervousness rushes through your body and you have no clue why. she blinks once, twice, then quickly turns her focus back to the screen, fingers typing calmly like nothing had happened.

still—you catch yourself smiling, chest a little lighter than it had been all week.

something is different. you can feel it.

and for the first time you can relax your shoulders, because it feels like you’re not just fighting this silent losing battle anymore.

—

you see her again thursday morning, but yunjin and kazuha aren’t there to witness your five seconds of embarassing yourself. 

today her hair is up in a bun and she’s wearing a plaid long-sleeve button paired with wide-leg sweatpants—she looks good, and now that the thought pops up… when hasn’t she?

“hey,” you blurt out before you can even think about what to say after. “good morning.” you add with a friendly smile.

she slows down, her brows twitching just barely as she looks at you like she’s thinking of what to say. maybe she’ll utter nothing and walk off. maybe she’ll reprimand you. to be honest, you don’t really care what happens next because it’s better than nothing.

“hi.” she says quietly, flatly. she breaks eye contact and walks right past again.

your smile widens, and each step down the hall feels brighter.

—

the week ends for most people with relief, but not for you. most friday’s are spent at the university’s court for practice, running a few warmup laps around the small court to get you going.  

everything continues on normally: your team pairs up to pepper for ten minutes before moving into spiking drills, setting, receiving, and perfecting minor details before moving on to scrimmages. it’s a routine you could never get tired of, one your body knows by heart. even when you’re sore and dreading practice, you love it.

what breaks the usual routine is a certain someone showing up twenty minutes before practice ends. 

haerin walks through the door with two of her friends. you recognize danielle and hanni since they’re a weekly feature on your teammate minji’s instagram stories. while everyone gets back into order, your eyes linger on haerin. what you don’t expect is for her to lock eyes with you for a split second, a moment that makes you stop in place, before she breaks the contact. 

you catch the group sitting in the bleachers, sparking a sudden urge to try a little harder.

the last twenty minutes of scrimmage consist of you doing very well. your turns are sharp and precise, your spikes heavy and quick—even some of your teammates are shocked at the sudden boost of energy. you’re playing almost as well as you would in a real game, and maybe it’s because of a special someone in the crowd. maybe it’s to distract her from the fact that one of your spikes left her in the nurse's office.

when practice ends, you run a few laps with your team before stretching together, though not without trying to sneak a peek at haerin to find that she’s already doing the same. you have to fight back a smile each time.

and after everyone finished changing, you caught up with minji, nudging her arm with your elbow.

“hey buddy,” you greet with a teasing tone. “nice blocks today. your vertical is getting better by the day!”

“thanks,” she laughs. “and… buddy? since when did start using that?”

���since now?”

“you sound ridiculous,” minji sighs. “so, what did you need from me?”

“i already told you! you’re doing better… and… well, i have a question.”

minji sighs once more.

“what’s with your little friends showing up?”

“no,” minji starts, raising her eyebrows. “what’s with haerin showing up.”

“no…”

“...yes,” she counters. 

you huff, rolling your eyes as you step back onto the court. minji’s friends are still sitting in the third row of the bleachers, laughing at something from what you can tell. and then minji looks at you from the side, raising her brows again and tilting her head, motioning for you to follow her.

you hesitate when minji starts heading over, but give in anyway.

“i’ll just say hi,” you mutter, more to yourself than minji. your teammate shrugs. 

when you arrive, they’re already headed down the bleachers—it’s a little terrifying. haerin is second after danielle, with hanni trailing behind. you watch as danielle leaps over to hug minji, then catches you while her arms are wrapped around your teammate.

“oh hey!” danielle beams into minji’s ear. “you must be y/n?”

“yeah, right on!” you respond with the same energy. 

then your eyes land on haerin, who’s fixing the collar of her t-shirt before meeting your gaze once again. the energy in your body dims down, your jaw tenses, and you feel like a movie character when the background blurs behind and it’s just them.

“hi haerin.” you greet warmly. 

she scans you again as if she’s figuring out whether or not you deserve a response. you gulp shallowly.

“hi.” she responds. her friends turn their heads toward her, clearly amused. then, her lips curl up just barely, almost imperceptibly. if you weren’t so hyperfocused on her you wouldn’t have caught it. “i’m surprised you didn’t hit anyone in the face.”

your heart beats against your chest like it’s trying to escape. 

minji bites back a laugh as you awkwardly chuckle before saying, “well, that’s progress.”

haerin’s brows raise just a bit as she adds, “your aim must’ve improved.”

minji doesn’t hold back her laugh this time, slapping your shoulder. something about haerin’s light teasing warms your chest, there’s a grin on your face as you respond, “just for you.” and maybe it was risky, but it makes haerin’s lips turn up just a little more. it feels like a standing ovation.

“well,” you begin, because your heart might explode right there and right now. “i was just catching up with minji. i have to uh, i have to… catch up with someone else. see you haerin— and um, you two as well— hanni, danielle.”

they all giggle before waving to you, though haerin only offers you a small smile that makes you want to celebrate.

—

haerin lifts up her head after sensing someone’s presence right by her side. she assumes it’s hanni, so she doesn’t bother to look right away. but when she tilts her head and glances over, it’s not who she expected.

“morning.” you greet, casual, but a faint smile is seen on your face.

you’re here early, haerin thinks. usually your friends would make it before you, loud and probably sharing their whole weekend with the class unknowingly. you’d show up just before class started and scan the room for haerin before making  your way over to the back to join the disturbance. not that she’s keeping track or anything though. that’d be ridiculous.

she blinks once. “morning.”

she turns to grab something from her bag, assuming you’ll leave sooner. but you don’t. instead, she feels your lingering presence beside her desk.

“so, how was your weekend?” you ask, equally awkward as sincere.

“fine.” she replies without looking up. 

you nod, waiting, but nothing conversational trickles in after.

your attempt at dissolving the tension is by clearing your throat, trying not to make it weird. “that’s good. did you do anything fun?”

she turns her head just barely, meeting you halfway—sort of. “why are you bothering me?” she asks, and the bluntness makes you stiffen a little.

your lips part but nothing comes out. you hesitate before answering, “i’m waiting for my friends.”

her brow lifts slightly as if she doesn’t believe you.

“you don’t believe me, do you?” you sigh. “this isn’t me doing charity work because i left a bruise on the side of your face that one time. that was an accident.” 

“right.” she says dryly, her lips twitching faintly.

“i swear!” you blurt out, flustered now. “i felt so bad—like, genuinely. i was gonna ask minji if i could venmo you for your medical bills or something—”

haerin cuts you off by letting out a quiet huff of laughter, looking at you properly for the first time. the corners of her lips lift and something in her eyes soften.

“has anyone ever told you how dramatic you are?” she questions, amused.

you fake a pout. “whatever.”

“you know,” she turns back to her desk, fighting a smile, “you’re not bothering me. i also feel bad that you look like a loser, all lonely and all. you can stay a bit until your friends come.”

“what did you say?”

“you heard me.” she says with a smile. 

and just like that, you’re pretty sure your morning’s already made.

—

you’re not really sure why you decided to put an effort into stepping over the line to make it on haerin’s good side. all the waving at her and making your presence known—maybe it could be labeled as bothering—had been spontaneous. 

there was no doubt that you were drawn to her for whatever reason. maybe it was because she caught your eye each time you would pass her near the beginning of the semester. maybe it was because you looked for the familiar face once you got the rhythm of when you’d briefly be within her presence. 

she was also on minji’s instagram occasionally, so you had a clue of who she was before attacking her face with a ball. and you’d stalked her instagram maybe once or twice on a random evening just because she was tagged in a story. she seemed nice and all, so why not talk to her more?

plus, she was nice to look at at. she had the kind of face that lingers in your mind after being around her, sometimes at night too, or even in random bursts throughout the day. she’s a new smile in your life that you start getting used to. 

haerin found you to be an addition to her routine, a very unexpected one. 

you’d appear at the end of the hall, sometimes with your friends—but recently it had been just you—and wave to her. when it was just you, you never failed to ask her how she was or how her day had been so far, everything friendly. and if she were being honest; she didn’t mind all this energy from you, if anything, she really liked it. 

it took a bit of time for haerin to reciprocate, maybe because of the grudge but also because it was difficult to talk to someone who used to be a world away from her. but here she is asking you if your practice is well, when your games were, and further inquiries that introduce you more as a person. she truly liked getting to know you, even if she pretended to be reserved and hesitant at times.

—

“hey,” you greet haerin as you walk up to her.

haerin isn’t sure when the bumping into you turned into willingly wanting to catch you in the morning or afternoon. this time, she’s waiting in the lobby instead of lingering in the usual hall, and she’s caught you by surprise with the slight change.

“hi.” she greets back.

you’re wearing a blue baseball cap with capital ‘a’ in white on it. your hair is pushed down by the cap just a bit, urging you to swipe it away to prevent it from blocking your view. a loose, white graphic tee also hangs over your figure nicely, complemented by a nice pair of jeans with a color that suits you well. you adjust your cap, finding the way it sits on your head a little off, and haerin wonders why she hadn’t realized how cute you’ve been until now.

“so, i was wondering.”

“oh no.” haerin sighs.

“hey!” you whine playfully. “well now i’m not going to say it.”

haerin looks you square in the eye, tilting her head down and raising her brows just barely.

“okay well if you look at me like that…” you surrender, fixing your hair just a bit. “since we have that mini exam, i was wondering if you wanted to go to the library to study… or, we could hit that cafe nearby.”

“there’s a lot of those.”

“well i know a nice one.”

“me too, y/n.”

“everytime i feel like we’re getting better at this, you suddenly find a way to hate me again.” you joke, but haerin lingers on whatever ‘this’ is. you continue, finishing your thoughts, “but yeah, after class, are you down?”

“sure, sure.” she agrees.

and then you smile, teeth peeking out just a bit. haerin feels a weird tingle run through her body.

—

the tingles get worse the next two weeks.

she spends more time with you, getting a little more personal and she likes it a little too much. you tell her the main reason why you switched majors. you were pressured into something law related, but after taking one elective for that path, you knew it wasn’t for you. and then you did that thing where you rambled on about something you liked a lot, in this case you had rambled about your love for playing the bass, which is the main reason you switched.

“you play bass?” haerin’s eyes widen just a bit from the initial shock. you are so much and so normal at the same time. “since when?”

“ummmm when i was like ten i think. i’ve always played and enjoyed it, even had a few gigs, but my parents wanted me to do law or something that would rack up money.” you shrug. “i got a nice scholarship because of volleyball and realized that i could just… do what i like. and what i like is that—more than anything, really—so....”

she turns to see you staring ahead. you’re both walking across campus to meet up with your friends at the food court, but haerin can’t think about any of that when the afternoon sun is kissing your features perfectly. it hits her that you’re really good-looking.

sure, she knows that’s also another key factor that plays into your reputation. people praise you for your skills, how lively you are, but also how nice on the eyes you are. haerin gets that now.

you catch her staring hard, a smile forming as you mumble, “what?”

haerin snaps back to reality, looking ahead again. “nothing. just thinking, sorry.”

“it’s fine.” you assure, running a hand through your hair. 

when you arrive at the building, ready to split ways to meet your friends, you tap haerin on the shoulder as she turns to leave. she turns, tilting her head and says, “what?”

“you know, if you ever want to see me play bass… you could just ask~”

“you’re full of it.”

you snicker, shaking your head. “well. if you ever stop accusing me of being narcissist, maybe i’ll invite you over to a gig.”

haerin narrows her eyes. “whatever. you should catch up with your friends. i’ll see you, bye y/n.”

“yeah, yeah. see you, haerin.” you smile at her and it feels like the ground beneath is stealing the energy from her knees, nearly knocking her off balance.

—

something about haerin has you rolling around in bed. 

before you dressed in your most comfortable pajamas, flat on your stomach with a pillow under your chin as you stare at your phone, you had spent the evening with minji and her friends—haerin being one of them. 

you set your phone face down and rub your face in your hands. 

it was a spontaneous outing, and you had nothing better to do, so why not tag along with minji? it wasn’t anything crazy, just casual and friendly. all of you strolled along the boardwalk not too far from downtown and playing stupid carnival games. it was fun, especially when hanni and minji started arguing over who would win the most tickets before the sun would set.

what was the most jarring was haerin. nothing in particular, just everything about her that night.

she showed up in a baby tee, beige cargos, and that face of hers. there was something about her that night, or maybe there had always been something about her that you never fully realized until the glow of a building hit her features perfectly. you two were the first to meet up—coincidentally— and without the rest of the group it felt like all the confidence had slipped away from you.

it took a second to greet her, your eyes in awe from how pretty she looked with the slight change in her makeup, or maybe the smile formed on her lips as her eyes landed on you.

you roll over to lay on your back, face still in your hands.

 your cheeks feel significantly warmer as you recall haerin lingering by your side the whole night. her hand had brushed yours multiple times—you remembered each and every time out of fifteen—and she was just so different, charming even, with her friends around. it was a slightly different side of her, one that had your heart beating slightly faster the whole night. 

you can’t stop thinking about the moment she fixed the cap on your head, the hair on your face, and her fingers brushing against your face before telling you how stupid you looked with the loveliest grin. it made your stomach churn. 

the thought of her couldn’t—cant leave your head, even as you take your hands off your face to pinch the bridge of your nose and shut your eyes tightly. 

“what is wrong with me…” you mumble, sighing.

you pick up your phone again, opening on instagram and tapping through stories until minji’s suddenly pops up. your brows furrow slightly as you scan it, eyes lingering on the picture of hanni and haerin, but mainly haerin in that frame. 

she looks good. you can’t get over it. and her user is tagged as well, so you click on it out of curiosity and infatuation.

she has two posts, much less than most people you know. the first one has four slides and a cat emoji as the caption. the first picture is a simple selfie of her with a very neutral expression, one which you stare at for a little too long. the next one is a similar selfie, though she’s smiling instead and you spend more time on that one. the last picture is a cute cat on the street, it makes you smile.

when you catch yourself smiling, you throw your phone across the bed, groaning into your hands.

—

haerin shows up to your next practice without warning you, but to be fair, neither of you had the chance (or guts, really) to ask for each others numbers. the only thing you had was the fact that you were now mutuals on instagram and the fear that held you back from texting her a simple “hi.”

 she’s in the bleachers reading a book—reading while you’re practicing. it makes you laugh more than it offends you, but there’s no reason to be offended anyway. haerin is just being haerin.

you try a little harder just in case she decides to steal a peek at you. today is mainly you serving and spiking up a ton while the rest of the team works to receive it, but when it comes to scrimmaging, you do your best—almost. 

practice ends and instead of heading to the locker room with your team, you run up to haerin, who’s head perks up when she catches the blur of your figure in her vision.

“did you miss me so much that you couldn’t help but stop by and watch?”

haerin scoffs. “don’t flatter yourself.”

“tch, whatever.” you respond.

before she spills the reason she’s there, her gaze shifts to the sweat glistening on your neck, then down to your collarbone, your shoulders, and arms. it’s oddly alluring, but she pushes it down by gulping and meeting your eyes again, trying to ignore the stupid smirk on your lips that tugs at her heartstrings. 

“you put your laptop charger in the wrong bag. i figured you’d be here, so—” she pulls out your macbook charger and hands it to you. “—here.”

“haerin,” you mutter, grabbing the charger. then, you put your other hand out and say, “give me your phone.”

“what?”

“just do it.” you urge, and she surprisingly does.

haerin watches you type in something, then hears the phone vibrate. “my number.” you say it like it’s obvious. “so you don’t have to spend your time reading while the sound of our yelling and the volleyballs distract you.”

“it wasn’t distracting.”

“then why’d you come?”

“to see you.”

your face heats up immediately. 

“whatever. are you doing anything after this?” you ask with a twinge of nervousness in your tone. your thumb presses down on the charger in your hand, an attempt to cool your nerves. “lets hangout?”

“look who’s the one missing me now.”

“oh whatever. do you want to, or no?”

haerin rolls her eyes. “okay, but wash up. you’re sweaty and gross,” she says, her look falling to your bicep as it flexes while you squeeze your charger.

—

“so, you and y/n?” minji asks one afternoon, lazily sitting on the couch.

haerin looks up from her laptop, raising a brow. “what?”

“what’s with you two? are you guys dating?”

“what?” haerin repeats, though much more baffled than before. “where did you even get that idea?”

dating? that’s ridiculous. two people can spend more time together, become friends and whatnot. that’s not dating. and plus, you’re still a world apart. if you’re not around her you’re in your bubble above her, floating around far out of her reach. you guys are nothing more than good friends. you’re nothing more than her good friend.

“y/n talks about you a lot.” minji shrugs, but the flicker of mischief in her eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. “a lot.”

“because we’re friends.”

“y/n and yunjin are best friends, but i haven’t heard much about yunjin in a while.”

haerin bites back immediately. “because you know her as well, you guys are teammates.”

“i know you too, haerin. it’s the same.”

minji’s just being ridiculous. there’s no way she’s implying that you have a thing for her. there’s a ton of girls lined up for you and for you to be fixated on her of all people would be ridiculous.

“there’s a lot of people who are into her, but it seems she’s only into you.”

“i—” haerin doesn’t know what to say, she bites her lip instead.

could you really be into her? she thinks hard about it. you’re so oblivious and idiotic, it would be much more blatant if you were actually into her.

“maybe you should pay more attention to her, because she pays a lot of attention to you, haerin.” minji says, followed by a smirk.

haerin groans quietly, sinking in her spot.

“you’re being stupid.”

minji shakes her head. “i think you’re trying to deny what i’m trying to say because you’re also into her—whether you’re going to accept that or not.”

—

minji’s accusation is proven right when it hits her—or rather you, quite literally—not too soon after the night on the couch.

haerin agrees to go to one of your games, but she doesn’t admit it’s because of you. she purposely meets up with minji first, pretending she isn’t eager to see your stupid face. when you run up to her in your uniform, the short sleeves hugging your arms just right, she has to fight back a huge smile. 

you raise your brows, giving her a teasing little smirk. “look who decided to show up.”

“you love to flatter yourself.”

“and you.” it’s a risky comment coming from you, especially when it’s paired with a wink. your teeth catch your lower lip like you regret it—maybe it was too risky. but haerin finds herself scoffing to distract you from the blush spreading across her face.

haerin gets some downtime to meet up with hanni, danielle, and eunchae in the stands. and then the game starts before she process what’s going on.

your team shows up all smiley in their jerseys, the crowd cheering. haerin isn’t on the loud side, so she claps for your team—a sharp contrast to hanni and danielle who are screaming at the top of their lungs. 

somehow, you catch her in the crowd, winking at her before slapping yunjin on the back to boost her spirits. haerin shakes her head, smiling as she does so.

the game starts off well for your team. yoon’s serves throw off the team in the beginning, giving your team a bit of a headstart before they grow accustomed to her. kazuha’s setting, paired with how quick and determined you are on the court, score two-thirds of the points in the first set.

the second set is rougher, with the other team winning by a few points. haerin can see the frustration in your face from where she’s at. the way you tighten your jaw after each slip up and how minji slaps your shoulder to keep you from losing your cool. she’s never seen you so serious, not even during practice. the way you hold yourself on the court is tremendously different from how unserious and carefree in class or alone with her. it’s admirable—also really attractive

the game goes on. you play well. really well.

the third set has you pumping your fist with each successful spike. haerin’s never been into volleyball like that—eunchae was the one who had to explain all the rules while the game was running—but she can tell that you’re incredible just from the way you leap, score, and celebrate.

everyone cools off a bit before the fourth set, determining if you’ll have to play another rigorous round or if you’re ready to celebrate a win against your rivals. 

it begins well, with one great serve from lily that scores the first point. yunjin’s quick to block a spike from the other side, and then kazuha’s dump scores another point for your own team, earning a slap on the back from you that’s too hard for her liking. she pushes your head roughly with a smile on her face.

for a while, the game goes smoothly—until it doesn’t.

your rivals’ star ace spike was faster than you could react, the ball hitting your temple unexpectedly with a force matching your own spikes. the sharp sound catches everyone off guard, and it’s followed by a few gasps, then cheers as the ball lands on the ground after your team loses their focus to look at you with concern.

it hurts, but you shake it off, signaling that you’re fine with a toothy smile and a thumbs-up.

haerin’s sitting up straigher in the stands now, worry etched into the way her eyebrows furrow. danielle glances at her, brows raised, but haerin says nothing. she doesn’t blink once until the game continues on.

everyone’s on the edge of their seats nearing the end of the game—your team is a point away from winning. the other team serves, your team does their best to keep them from scoring, then the ball is on the other side for them to deal with it.

and then, unbelievably, it happens again—this time way worse. 

their outside hitter jumps, swings, and the ball hits you directly in the face clean, and blood shoots out from your nose like something out of a cartoon. the crowd gasps, and haerin flinches as if it hit her too.

you recover quick, blinking hard, and yell at yunjin. she runs after the ball, keeps it in the air, and the game continues. your team scrambles, recovers, and you manage to run up, leap, and score a winning point that echoes in the court.

the gym erupts.

you exhale in relief, losing strength in your legs and laying on the ground with your eyes on the ceiling. blood trickles down your lip, mixing with sweat, and dripping onto the court where you lie down. it’s kind of gross, but you can’t really bother to care because you’ve won. 

the athletic trainer rushes over and makes you sit on the sideline, ice pressed to your face, tissues jammed up your nose almost comically. your team scrambles around you, and you brush them off, telling them you’re fine.

as soon as you’re left alone, haerin doesn’t think—she just moves. she scoots past legs and bags and down the bleachers, walking fast toward where you are.

you look up when she approaches, and all she can think of is how completely stupid you look. stupid and cute.

something sharp and certain twists in her chest.

she likes you.

not in a maybe, possibly way. in a real way. in a “you just bled all over your team’s side of the court, it’s on your jersey, and you’re still smiling at me like that” kind of way.

“i’m fine,” you say, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to be grinning with blood drying under your nose.

she sits down next to you, looking at you with worry in her eyes. “you look like an idiot.”

“an idiot who scored the winning assist~” you hum happily, then pause. “maybe this is payback for the time i hit you.”

she narrows her eyes and shoves your shoulder—not hard, but enough to make you laugh.

“i hate you. i still have a grudge because of that but,” she smiles, then continues, “that’s way too harsh for payback.”

you laugh—sort of, through the tissue—and it’s not even that funny, but she laughs too. 

and for a second, the sounds around you fade. the gym, the team, the chaos. it all blurs. everything clicks into place like it’s always been leading to this.

it scares you both simultaneously—how real it feels, how quick it settles in your chests—but it also feels safe. god it feels warm. like this was supposed to happen eventually.

you like her. she likes you. it hits you both at the same time—the third time something has hit you today, but this one hits way harder.

—

when haerin sees you next, your face is still swollen from the game a few days prior.

you’ve shown up to class without bothering to cover up the giant purple mark around your eye and another red mark on your nose bridge. but still, like always, you greet haerin with a smile before heading to your friends, who poke at your face on purpose and earn a pained groan.

“damn, ryujin got you good… it’s still there!” kazuha snickers poking you again. “jesus christ, it looks like you got punched.”

you shove her off, scoffing. “i’ll give you a similar mark if you keep it up.” 

“you better pray that the mark fades into something better, friday we’ve got that gig.” yunjin reminds you.

a lightbulb appears above your head. you’ve totally forgotten about the gig you landed—with the help of yunjin—after your little triumph on the court from a few days ago. your rub your face in your hands a little too hard and it hurts, making kazuha chuckle. 

yunjin arranged a little gig for you and two other students to play at a lively restaurant downtown. you’ve been a few times, and each time there’s been musicians brightening the atmosphere while bringing people together. out of all the places, this is the one you’ve been wanting to play at the longest. how could you forget?

it’s been a while since you’ve had a gig, if you’re not counting late-night bedroom sessions with friends, friends of friends, and friends of friends of friends in someone's dorm or rooftop. the though of performing in such a long time, after being occupied with volleyball, makes you a little nervous.

“fuck,” you mutter. “i completely brushed that off.”

“well, you better be ready by then. we’ve got to practice for that after practice practice.” 

you nod, sighing at the slight sting of your injury. your eyes land on haerin, who’s writing something down on a sticky note and placing it in her notebook. she turns to say something to hanni and your eyes linger on the outline of her side profile.

a thought pops up in your head, one that makes you smile ever so slightly.

—

“so i was thinking,” you start, watching haerin turn to look at you with an “oh god,” expression plastered on her face.

“that’s not good.”

“would you not.” you sigh. “just let me finish.”

you two have been studying european music history together on the second floor of your campus’ most popular cafe. chatter is spilling out from every table, some mixed with the sound of writing or a pen tapping against the table, which does a decent job of making the process of studying your least favorite era less dreadful.

haerin has on a slight blush and lip balm that tints her lips, a no-makeup kind of look that prompts you to steal glances every few minutes or so. you can’t not glance at her, not when her hair is up in a high bun, some shorter hairs falling over her face shifting around just a bit everytime she laughs at your stupid jokes or looks up to think about something. 

“okay, fine.” haerin giggles softly.

“as i was saying,” you continue, but haerin is momentarily distracted.

the oversized t-shirt’s collar is loose enough to reveal a fraction of your collarbones. it drapes over you lazily, complimenting the slight tousled look of your hair. plus, you just look cute in general that it had made it really difficult to study with full concentration. the swelling had gone down and the bruise faded ever so slightly, but there’s a natural flush on your cheeks that lingers from the inflammation that haerin can’t help but find adorable. she looks down at the table, biting down on her back teeth and pursing her lips to give you her full attention.

“i have this… thing on sunday. it’s nothing big, kinda…” you say a little quiter than before. haerin’s distracted again, but just a little. your mannerisms are caught by her eye immediately; the way your voice simmers down to something slightly vulnerable when you’re serious, how you bite your lip in between sentences, and the way your eyes dart around are enough to tell her that it’s actually ‘something big.’

“down at that restaurant near the waterfront, the one with the good burgers and italian food—i have a um… a gig.” you explain, eyes meeting haerin’s again to search for something. “and you know, i’m gonna play bass, and yunjin’s gonna be there too with some others. we’re just gonna have fun, have a good time, a good night and stuff. i was um, i was wondering if you wanted to come.”

before haerin can respond, you clear your throat and clarify, “actually, i’m not really asking. i want you to come.” 

haerin is speechless for a moment, responding with only a blush dimmed by the ambience of the cafe and a smile.

“i’d like that.”

“really?” your posture fixes just a bit from sheer shock. “great. you can bring a friend of course! i don’t care, but i’d… i’d like to see you there. i’d like to spend time with you after my little thing too.”

she laughs and her head tilts a bit, eyes softening as she looks at you with those dumb, adorable blue light glasses slipping down near the tip of your nose. her hand moves over to push them back up, making you smile like a child.

haerin moves her hand back to her laptop, eyelashes fluttering as she blinks and says, “i’m looking forward to it.”

—

panic crawls up haerin’s spine before she can stop it.

she was supposed to have everything under control—finish her assignment early, take her time getting ready, maybe even have some downtime before heading out. but the essay took longer than expected because she lost half of her sources somehow, and now she’s scrambling. she types at a speed that blurs her vision and biting the inside of her lip with each typo just to submit with barely thirty minutes left to get ready to see you. 

haerin’s usually composed, easy-going, and on top of things. but now there’s a small pile of clothes tossed on the bed, her phone buzzing with the time, and her thoughts spinning faster than she can catch them. the bus stop is five minutes away, which means she has less time than she thought. her fingers have trouble zipping up her bag.

she ends up in something simple, making her second guess (but there’s no time for that, really). her hair is braided in two, something simple and hopefully cute enough for you. the braids fall neatly over her shoulders, parted slightly off-center. her makeup is light to match the striped, long-sleeve top she has on, paired with comfy jeans. it’s casual, but hopefully enough to make a statement, or get you to notice her, or maybe—

she closes her eyes, thinking of how ridiculous it is to be thinking so hard about her impression on you. she wants to look nice—wants you to think she looks nice. it’s stupid. she knows it’s stupid. and it’s conflicting in the sense that she’s standing in the mirror trying to impress someone who might not think twice about what she’s wearing. but she can’t help it.

now she’s tying her sneakers and thinking about how you’ll see her when she walks in. if you’ll glance at her for a beat longer than usual. if you’ll say anything. and that thought alone makes her blush so hard she has to put a hand over her face, thinking, what’s gotten into me?

—

haerin gets there a little late—heart banging against her chest from the walk and nerves—but it’s fine. the outdoor area is dim from the setting sun, the lights are warm and hazy, and you’re just about to start. the crowd isn’t crazy huge, but only two tables aren’t filled with a group of friends or couple. she spots a table for two, walking over and passing people talking over drinks, leaning into each other, swaying slightly even before the music begins.

you’re on stage, tuning your bass, laughing at something yunjin says into the mic. haerin spots you immediately, and before she can duck or think twice, your eyes catch hers through the crowd.

the moment is like a movie. everything slows down and it’s just you. your face lighting up—small, just a grin—but she feels it right in her chest. you look thrilled. like her showing up meant the world. like she’s not just another person in that room looking for a nice friday night. like she’s there for you and you only and the thought of it makes you soar.

she finds a spot somewhere off to the side, still in your line of sight. the music starts. something low and smooth and groovy—your fingers working the bass like it’s second nature. haerin’s never really paid attention to bassists before. but with you, it’s impossible not to. 

she’s suddenly too aware of every single thing you do. everytime your fingers shift to another note, the way your eyes flicker over her a little too often—none of it goes unnoticed.

yunjin stands beside you, her energy laidback, teasing. she waits for you to finish the opening chords, then strums into the rhythm, syncing naturally with the beat. you move with the rhythm, eyes mostly on your bandmates but still drifting back to haerin again and again like you can’t help it. 

the chorus creeps in, you step up next to yunjin, nodding at her like there’s a silent understanding of what’s up next. the crowd sways with you two, reeled in by your energy and playfulness. you alternate the lyrics with yunjin; she sings the first part of the chorus, and you sing the second part. 

“cause basically i—” yunjin starts, before passing it to you, “i just wanna ride with you”

your voice slides into the space, low and clear, easy but intimate.

“i gotta getcha—’cause i just wanna vibe with you”

yunjin keeps it light, laughing a little as you bump her shoulder during her next line, but when you return to your part, your gaze locks in on haerin. 

“‘cause i just gotta know if you want me too,” you sing. your voice is like silk, the tone is almost inviting, “dontcha want me?”

the lyrics feel different—like they mean something deeper and you’re not just singing it to entertain the crowd, like you really mean what you’re singing and it’s not just the song.

haerin’s heart races in her chest. she feels it even in her neck, in her fingertips, and the thrill of it makes it impossible to look away. the way your voice fills the room, rich and warm, and she’s hanging on every word. you sing with such ease, so naturally, as though this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. and with every chorus that yunjin flows into, you complement her voice without failing to make eye contact with haerin as you dance around with yunjin. 

dontcha, 

dontcha, 

dontcha, 

dontcha want me?

the outro loops, and she’s completely under whatever your voice has cast. her head bobs along, a faint smile on her lips, not even trying to hide how enamored she is. 

as the song ends, you pause for a moment, fingers still resting on the bass strings, and meet her gaze. you have the same look from before. a quiet understanding. your smile isn’t wide now, but it’s full of something softer, steadier. like you’re both aware of the new realization that hangs in the air. 

haerin rises with the rest of the crowd, clapping, her expression a little different now—slightly flushed, eyes bright. she makes her way to you once the applause dies down and people begin settling back into their seats after everyone on stage says their final words of appreciation and gratitude. 

it’s just you and her again. 

you’re both quiet. not because you want to be, but because haerin opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. and on your end, it feels like your brain short-circuits the second you see her up close. 

she’s standing there with her hands fidgeting around with the end of her top, her cheeks are pink from the slight chill of the evening or maybe from the song—maybe both. her hair catches the light in soft waves, and her eyes, even as she glances down, make you want to collapse then and there. she looks up again with those gorgeous brown eyes you could probably stare at for the entirety of a lecture and longer and your brain is fuzzy and twisted and tangled. 

the golden light from the streetlamp pools down against a window and it somehow reflects perfectly to make her face glow more than before. everything about her feels surreal, a little too good to be true.

and before you can even process anything other than the slight tilt of her head, you say it.

“wow.” 

your voice is quiet, breathy, like you’ve just found a new wonder of the world. 

she glances up at you, lips parted like she was about to speak, but your next words beat her to it.

“you look beautiful.” and it’s not smooth, or practiced. it falls out of your mouth clumsy and too honest. but the second it slips out, you mean it more than anything you’ve ever said.

her eyes go wide for a second, and then she laughs—soft and flustered and caught off guard. her eyes dart away like they’re too shy to hold yours anymore. she shifts on her feet, head ducking slightly, biting the inside of her lip just barely. 

“you’re just saying that,” she murmurs, her voice quiet but warm, still not quite looking at you. 

“no,” you say, immediate, because it’s true and you need her to know it. “i mean it.”

she laughs again—maybe to calm her stuttering heart, or because she is way to flustered to act normal at all—and smiles into the sidewalk like it’s the only way she can keep from blowing up then and there.

(something like that)

you watch her closely, your heart racing, but not from nerves anymore. from something else. something lighter. better. 

“i um, i—” you pinch the bridge of your nose, cringing at your stutter. haerin laughs, and you do too before continuing. “thank you for coming. i was really looking forward to see you.”

“you were?”

“of course i was, idiot.” you grin. “have you eaten yet?”

haerin thinks to herself briefly. she had crammed before meeting with you, and if she tried to take even a bite out of anything she probably wouldn’t have been able to swallow it just from the overwhelming rush of nervousness that washed over her just from thinking about you and seeing you.

“no. i didn’t get the chance.”

“let me treat you then! the burgers here are great. lets grab two and share the fries,” you suggest, putting your hand on your stomach. “and i’m really hungry after all of that.”

haerin rolls her eyes, then chuckles. “of course you are. let’s go eat, y/n.”

—

after dinner, and saying all your goodbyes to everyone who showed up, you end up walking along the waterfront right outside the restaurant.

(yunjin makes sure to wiggle her brows at you two, and tease you until you’re blushing even harder than before.)

the night is quiet except for the sound of water lapping gently against the edge of the dock and the occasional breeze. the street lamps light up your path, and your steps slow naturally, like neither of you are in a rush to go home.

you nudge her arm gently as you walk. “you know, i always wanted to get to know you better.”

she glances over, rasing an eyebrow. “since when?”

“since that day i hit you in the head.” you laugh a little, eyes on the water now.

she groans. “seriously?” and you grin.

“i felt so bad—you were so pissed,” you say fondly. “i did everything i could to warm up to you because i was so, so sorry. every time we passed each other, you’d act like i didn’t exist or give me that look… my friends poked at me for it but i was kind of fascinated.”

haerin’s already laughing now, shaking her head. “you’re so weird.”

“probably.” you admit with a chuckle. “but i liked finally getting through your skin, getting to know you… you just— you stood out. i don’t think i’ve ever met anyone like you. and i didn’t stick around because i felt bad for giving you a giant bruise. i just thought you were interesting, and smart, and pretty. and when you say you hate me and call me an idiot it only makes me want to stick around and bother you more.”

your voice dies down a bit. haerin notices the shift in your demeanor—something shy, nervous, and adorable.

“i thought you were so odd for wanting to stick around,” she finally says, glancing at you with that same familiar side-eye, but softer this time. “and i didn’t like you before because we were in two different worlds and… your friends were so loud.” she jokes.

you pretend to clutch your chest, gasping. “wow, i’m hurt. you hated me without knowing me?”

“i didn’t hate you!” she defends, pushing you softly.

she laughs again and you both stop walking, pausing near the edge of the water. she’s still smiling when she looks at you, but her voice is smaller when she speaks again.

“i’ve really grown to admire you,” she says quietly. “and i’m glad we’re here, and you invited me to your little gig and i finally got to see you play bass and you…”

“i’m glad we’re friends—kind of,” you say softly, quietly. she looks up at you with a confused expression, to which you respond by looking away, smiling at the water in front of you. “i’m saying ‘kind of because’… i’ve kinda had a thing for you for a while and i’m really glad you came and i wanted to ask you out tonight but god it feels like my heart is beating out of my chest and—”

you inhale, then look her in the eyes before exhaling your confession, “haerin. i really, really like you.”

she doesn’t say anything at first. just looks at you, her eyes darting across your face like she’s searching for something in the sparkle on the surface of your eyes. 

then, slowly, she leans in and kisses your cheek. it’s quick, barely there, but you heat up almost immediately. your chest warms, and then your face, and then your whole body.

you blink. your cheeks are flushed like crazy—they have to be—and haerin pulls back, clearly flustered now too. she bites back a smile.

“i really like you too,” she mumbles, looking anywhere but at you. “you’re so cute. i hate it.”

you grin. “sorry.” 

“don’t be. i like it.” she responds, earning a playful scoff from you.

you can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night. neither can she.

—

your first official date with haerin is downtown, but it’s nothing too far from a usual hangout other than the fact that both of you are crazy aware of the mutual feelings, mutual everything. haerin smiles at you the whole time and you want to capture the moment and hang it on your wall.

the second official date is nothing crazy, but it’s really domestic for a second date. 

you invite her over to your place since yunjin’s out for the weekend helping her mom with something you completely forgot about. haerin shows up in a simple sweater and shorts and the sight of her alone earns a bunch of kisses pressed all over her face. she pretends to be annoyed, pushing you off and groaning playfully, but when you’re settled, she presses a soft kiss on your cheek and calls you cute. you nearly combust.

for a second date, it’s awfully intimate. intimate in the way that you were supposed to be watching a movie together, but a gust of drowsiness decided to sweep by. it hits you first, starting off with a small yawn that leaves your lips, and then your head falls to haerin’s chest, the thump of her heart lulling you to sleep. she’s flustered beyond measure at how calm and settled you look, snapping a picture before shutting your laptop and pulling your blanket over both of you. she moves just a bit so you can both lie comfortably instead of at a questionable angle, and the last of your energy takes over then, your arm wrapping around her.

the second date ends with you waking up to a dead-asleep haerin sprawled out on top of you. the soft breaths from her lips urge you to reach out your hand, even while half asleep, and brush the hair out her face, smiling before you succumb to sleepiness again.

—

an incident familiar to your first mishap with haerin occurs before you even get to your third date. 

it’s just like before–same gym, same rush of adrenaline as you play through another long rally during practice. the ball sails high over the net, your timing feels perfect, and without thinking, you leap up and spike it hard.

the ball’s trajectory decides to swerve and smack right into someone’s head.

you freeze.

it takes less than a second to realize it’s haerin.

“oh my god—” you’re already sprinting across the court before she can even recover from the hit, cradling her head with one hand while waving off the coach with the other. “are you okay? are you—can you see me well? how is your vision? do you feel dizzy?”

“i’m fine,” she says, blinking a few times. “it just scared me—”

“i just hit your head with a nasty spike, do not lie to me. i’m not taking any chances. come on.” you gently take her wrist, ignoring the fact that practice hasn’t ended yet as you pull her toward the exit. 

she doesn’t resist. she just walks beside you with that unreadable expression she always has on her face—though it’s slightly more readable when she’s around you and you take much pride in that—though you don’t catch the way she keeps stealing glances at you.

you head over toward the nurse’s offices, nearly barging into the hallway, but once you’re alone and the noise of the gym fades behind you, you stop and turn to her. 

“let me see,” you mutter.

she opens her mouth to assure you that she’s perfectly fine even though a stinging sensation lingers, but you’re already cupping her face in both hands.

your thumbs press softly against her cheeks, fingers curled just under her jaw, tilting her head from one side to the other. “you’re not dizzy? does your head hurt? is your vision—”

“i’m fine,” she repeats, but her voice is quieter now, and her eyes keep flicking between yours and your lips.

the proximity decreases the more you frown. concern is etched on your features as you inspect her like she’s made of glass. “i swear, i didn’t mean to—the ball just, i thought yunjin would’ve got it but—ugh, you could’ve been really hurt if it were a direct spike. your cheek is already deepening in color, your face—”

and that’s when she kisses you.

a quick, soft press of her lips to yours. barely there. just enough to shut you up.

you blink. 

she pulls back immediately and fills the silence, her voice small. “you worry too much.”

your hands are still on her face, and now they tighten slightly. and before you can overthink it, you lean in and kiss her again. this time it’s slower, softer, and certain. 

she makes a small noise of shock against your mouth, but melts into it a second later. her whole body relaxes completely. 

when you finally pull back you’re blushing like crazy. her eyes are widened and her smile grows the longer you look at her.

“... are you sure you’re okay?” you murmur, your thumb brushing her cheek. 

“i am, stop worrying so much.” she scolds, then giggles softly. “you still hit me in the head me in the head though—again.”

“sorry.” you sigh. “guess we’ve come full circle now.”

“i guess so, loser.” she laughs, then moves over to peck your lips again.

[luvhughes43]

hey queen! so i love your writing sm and i was thinking about a blurb were reader is watching a practice and a rookie doesn’t know that she is dating quinn, so he starts flirting with her and obviously we aren’t entertaining him but he doesn’t get the hint and then quinn gets all angry and possessive. just all worked up and like really cute.

word count: 561

note: i hope you like it!! sorry it took so long😭🤍

THE rink buzzed with the energy of the upcoming season as everyone started to settle into the new routine of practices, and got to know the new coaching staff and acquainted with new teammates.

as the practice went on you sat and watched from the sidelines - the blue canucks badge dangling off your neck with the word STAFF etched onto the plastic. your dad, the new head coach of the team, had got you a badge made after you professed your newfound interest in the sport... all of which had to due with a certain messy haired player.

when your dad blows his whistle singling the end of practice, you gather your bag and head down towards the locker room where you wait for your boyfriend of a few months.

quinn, always the last to come out, was nowhere in sight when a man you recognized as one of the rookies strides confidently towards you.

he pauses, reads your badge, and leans against the wall beside you, "staff, huh? guess we'll be seeing each other often," he attempts to flirt, and you have to try not to roll your eyes.

"sorry, but i'm taken," you reply simply, tossing your hair off your shoulder as you move away from the guy.

"thats what they all say," he straightens up as well, and you dont miss the way his eyes rake down your body. "but i get it. someone as good looking as you no doubt has a boyfriend,"

"thanks?" you reply, absentmindedly twisting your badge around your finger.

"but i mean if you ever find yourself in need of a good time..." he continues, leaning towards you. "you know where to find me,"

"excuse me?" a rough voice cuts in from across the hall. you both turn to find quinn striding out of the locker room. "what do you think youre doing?" he all but barks, standing in front of you and the guy.

"shit, staffs probably off limits right?" the guy chuckles to himself as if he were an idiot, which he was, but for other reasons. "didnt know you were so strict about that typa thing huggy" the nickname rolls of his tongue sarcastically, and quinn who was so not the possessive type, started to see red.

"dont call me that," he snaps, brushing a quick hand through his tousled hair.

"get a load of this guy-" the rookie whispers to you.

"and dont talk to her either," quinn continues, and you have to fake a cough to hide your bubbling giggles. quinn was rarely possessive, there was no need for him to be, so seeing him with his eyebrows scrunched and his arms crossed was a historic sight.

"dude, relax," the rookie tries, and when quinn squints his eyes you take that as your queue to intervene.

"alright," you step in, grabbing hold of one quinns arms and intertwining one of his hands with yours. "this was fun guys, really, but we gotta go," you say, tugging on quinns hand and pulling him towards the exit.

at the sight of yours and quinns intertwined hands, the rookie realizes his mistakes. "shit," he sighs, "quinn, dude, i had no idea that this was your girl," he trails after you both.

"is my girl," quinn corrects, not breaking stride as he squeezes your hand. you were really loving this new side of him

-

-

-

[ssorenz]

〝I LUV TO GET 2 ON!〞 ৻ꪆ

syn. who knew a simple anatomy project would get so hands-on when you’re paired up with the most notorious duo on campus? hypothesis? you’d survive the semester. conclusion? you barely survived the night.

feat. nerd! satoru gojo + jock/basketball capt! suguru geto + fem! reader, college/modern! au, pwp, double pen (piv), stsg bits (this is definitely fruity..), choking, mentions of sqūirting, gojo being a cocky bastard, manhandling, mutual masūrbàtion, mdni!

wc. 5.1k

a/n. AHSHDGDH thank you all sosososoos much for 1k followers on here!! i hope u all enjoy <3

you knew this class was going to kill you.

anatomy and physiology II: the human body in depth.

just the name alone sounded like a threat.

your professor hadn’t exactly sugar-coated things either. first day of class, he’d made sure his rules sound more like laws—no late work. no excuses. no leniency.

but admittedly, the first few weeks weren’t. . . terrible. sure, the lectures were long. the readings were dense. your notes app had crashed twice and the girl next to you in lab kept forgetting which side was the sterile field, which was a little concerning.

it was going pretty mediocre, until earlier this week, when your prof announced that you’d all be doing a semester-long partner project. “worth thirty percent of your final grade,” he added so casually, as if he didn't just threaten multiple students’ gpa’s alone.

you figured it couldn’t be that bad. partners were randomly assigned and honestly? you’d take anyone halfway decent. just someone who would show up. someone who’d write their name on the assignment. bare minimum.

famous last words.

the email came through your inbox at 3:47 p.m, the notification banner sliding across your macbook screen. you opened it mindlessly, just a casual glance during your late lunch, fork paused halfway to your mouth as you skimmed over it.

[subject: semester project groups – ANP201] dear students, project groups have been assigned. please check the attached spreadsheet. reminder: groups are final and cannot be changed.

the file buffered slow, like it was to purposefully mess with you. once it finally loaded, your eyes scrolled down the page, locking instantly on your name. you read the names next to it— satoru gojo and suguru geto.

oh. okay.

satoru, the six-foot-something computer science major and pre-med minor, —because apparently one wasn’t enough—with a hobby of making professors question their career choices. textbook definition of a nerd.

like, actually. if you cracked open the merriam webster and searched nerd, his photo would be there. probably in multiple candid angles too.

suguru, though? he was the complete opposite.

captain of the uni basketball team. 6’5. looked like he belonged on the cover of a sports illustrated, not a lecture hall. but he wasn’t just muscle, despite what people liked to assume. he was smart too, not gojo smart, but smart in a way that didn’t always show up on paper. the kind that came from being observant. tactical.

even with their differences, they were a package deal. everyone knew wherever's there's geto, there’s gojo, and vice versa. yin and yang. chaos and calm.

and now, by the grace of god, they were going to be your partners for the next few weeks.

great.

your phone buzzed not long after, a notification from a random group chat. two unknown contacts.

group name: ana project

unknown 1: heyyy!!!! when r we meetingggg :)) ?? unknown 2: sorry about him. are you free thursday?

you stared at the screen, sighing as you fingers tapped against the illuminated screen.

you: thursday works.

typing. . . .

suguru: great. 6pm at our dorm?

you: that's perfect

satoru: see u then <3

thursday came faster than you wanted it to.

it was like you blinked and suddenly the week was over, and there you were—standing in front of their dorm.

unit 4C.

the numbers were clean, shiny. like they’d just been installed. probably because this was one of the newer buildings—the kind with fake wood floors, keycard locks, and that faint, industrial lemon scent that never quite masked the smell of gym bags and ramen.

you shifted your weight from foot to foot, pulling out your phone to text the group chat.

you: here

the typing bubble popped up instantly.

gojo: doors open :P

you eased the door open and you were honestly surprised.

it wasn’t messy. not even a little— clean, quite cleaner than you expected, actually.

no graveyard of energy drink cans. no gym socks wadded into corners. no pizza boxes stacked like jenga towers. it was just... clean. casual. like two functioning adults actually lived here.

a sectional couch pushed against the window, a fleece blanket slung over the arm. the coffee table had the usual clutter of notebooks, loose papers, a few highlighters, and a basketball resting off to the side like someone had tossed it there, forgotten.

and it smelled nice. like laundry and something deeper—cologne, probably geto’s, because you doubted gojo even owned anything scented that wasn’t labeled “mango blast” or “mountain breeze.”

you eased your bag off your shoulder, setting it down carefully next to the couch as you found an unoccupied seat. your fingers curled around the edge of your notebook, already flipping to a blank page.

geto settled into the chair across from you, opening his laptop with a soft click. he balanced it effortlessly across one knee, already pulling up the project document like he’d been ready hours ago.

meanwhile, gojo was already sprawled on the couch, black wired glasses riding low on the bridge of his nose as he lazily eyed the television mounted on the opposite wall. an episode of one piece was playing on mute, and judging by the rougher animation style, it was an older episode– specifically during the baratie arc.

“so,” you cleared your throat. “should we figure out a plan?”

“yeah,” geto nodded, and he sounded calm, professional. like he’d actually taken this seriously from the start. “let’s go over the rubric first. set some deadlines. keep things simple.” 

“we already looked at the rubric last night,” gojo groaned.

geto didn’t even glance up. “you mean i looked at the rubric and you played valorant.”

“hey. i absorbed the rubric. through, uh.. osmosis.” gojo held up both hands in mock surrender. 

geto sighed. “osmosis doesn’t work like that.”

“mine does.”

you shook your head, glossed lips pressing together. “did you guys at least pick a topic?”

“yup,” gojo replied easily. “male reproductive system.”

you blinked. “you’re serious?”

geto nodded. “it’s actually not a bad choice. there’s a lot of material, and it’s easy to present.”

“see?” gojo beamed. “someone appreciates my genius.”

he reached over to the coffee table, grabbing the anatomy textbook, and flipped it open without even looking at the chapter tabs. like he already knew exactly where to turn. the pages rustled as he thumbed through them, the paper soft and worn from years of use.

“oh my god,” he breathed, the words slipping out in that half-mocking, half-genuinely impressed way as he stopped, the book spread open between his palms.

“what?”

he tilted the book toward you like he was presenting a work of art.

on the page—a diagram. the male reproductive system. labeled. clinically drawn. harmless. the photo reference next to it though... not so much. it was low-res. outdated. the kind of tragically awkward picture that screamed nineties public health pamphlet and we ran out of funding for better stock images.

“it’s just a diagram?” you frowned.

gojo squinted at it like it had personally offended him. he leaned back into the couch cushions, hoodie stretching taut over his chest, hem riding up just enough to flash a narrow strip of skin above his waistband.

“well, duh. i’m just saying,” he tapped the photo with one finger, solemn. “they’re definitely underestimating the average size.”

you blinked.

geto didn’t even look up from his laptop, muttering a, “jesus christ.”

“no no, go on. tell me i’m wrong.” he said. “look at that and tell me i’m lying.”

“don’t drag her into this,” geto muttered, warning but with a trace of something amused at the edge of his voice.

“gojo,” you said, as flatly as possible. “it’s a textbook.”

“exactly,” he quipped. “a scientific comparison. a scholarly resource, if you will.”

geto finally looked up, leaning back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest as he closed his laptop. “you really think yours is above average?”

gojo raised both eyebrows. “you saying yours isn’t?”

the room went quiet. 

geto tilted his head, slow and deliberate. “eight inches.”

gojo scoffed. “eight?”

“minimum.”

“cap.”

geto didn’t even blink. "prove it."

“gojo, don’t.” you tried, brows furrowing as they bickered back and forth about something so trivial. “can we just—”

“i think,” he interrupted, fingers curling into the waistband of his sweatpants, drawstring sliding loose with an easy, practiced tug. “we need a second opinion.”

“strictly educational purposes.” he hummed.

geto sighed, the kind of sigh that meant he’d already given up on trying to stop his reckless friend. “you’re insane.”

“i prefer innovative.”

your brain buffered, like genuinely.

it was struggling– the little mental loading wheel just spinning helplessly as your eyes darted back and forth between them.

skin. muscle. anatomy. so much of it.

gojo’s sweatpants had slipped dangerously low. the drawstring hung loose, trailing lazily over his hip like it had given up the fight ages ago. the fabric had slouched down to mid-thigh, bunched around strong quads lined with lean muscle. 

but none of that was really what your poor, poor brain was focusing on.

he was thick, and the curve—god. even his dick was cocky. the way it arched upward like it was taunting you, smug and shameless and utterly unapologetic. 

fitting.  

it rested against the side of his thigh, flushed with a deeper tone near the base and gradiently lightening toward the head. the tip blushed a rosy pink, veins prominent enough to catch even in the low dorm light.

proportionate in a way that felt unfairly so. the kind of length and girth that made your thighs reflexively press together. 

gojo stretched his arms behind his head, glasses tilting as he flexed his biceps beneath the sleeves of his hoodie– the movement making his pelvis tilt just slightly, which in turn made him somehow look even bigger. 

and then there was geto.

his shorts had slipped lower than gojo’s now, the waistband resting dangerously beneath the sharp carve of his hips. those v-lines framed everything, cutting sharp shadows into his lower abdomen.

he was longer. not by a mile. just enough for your eyes to catch the difference. a straighter shaft than gojo’s slight curve, thick where it met his base and gradually fading to a paler flush at the tip. 

resting heavy between his thighs. no flex. no dramatics. just... there.

his girth was a quiet threat, though—wider at the base, tapering only slightly toward the head. there was an alluring symmetry to it, smooth and precise, like the rest of him.

your mouth opened. dry. no words came out. only the faint, embarrassing hitch of your breath.

“so,” gojo drawled, voice pitched light and airy,—like he wasn’t in the middle of flashing his dick at his anatomy partner with zero shame. “which one d’you think’s bigger?”

“i—” your voice cracked embarrassingly. you cleared your throat. “well i’m not—i can’t just—”

“scientific method,” gojo supplied helpfully. he gestured loosely between you all like this was completely logical. like if someone barged in right now, he’d have a perfectly reasonable explanation for all.. this. “hypothesis. data collection. peer-reviewed conclusions.”

“peer-reviewed by who?” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

“you, silly girl.” 

of course.

“you can get closer if you want,” he offered. “think of it as the hands-on portion, yeah? can’t do it properly with inaccurate info.”

this was insane. batshit insane. you should’ve shut it down already. but—

your knees hit the floor between gojo’s thighs with a soft thud, and your body halted for a split second– although it felt like minutes, hours had passed, before your fingers adjusted instinctively, curling firmer around the base.

he was heavy– solid, the skin stretching taut beneath your touch. you could feel the weight of the veins beneath the surface—thick, pulsing slightly under your fingertips with each faint shift of his hips.

gojo’s breath caught quietly at the back of his throat– not dramatic. not performative. just a subtle hitch as his thigh tensed beneath your wrist. the long muscle flexed slightly, defined beneath pale skin.

he didn’t move much—barely rolled his hips upward into the circle of your hand, but the reaction was there. restrained. calculated.

of course it was.

because gojo satoru was always calculated.

“c-consistent pressure,” gojo breathed, the words slipping past his teeth in a low, pleased hum. “smart girl.”

your thumb brushed just beneath the head. wet.

not dripping—he wasn’t that far gone.. yet—but a slick sheen kissed the flushed, deeper pink at the tip. your hand moved again, another pull. this one was longer, dragging up from base to tip in a slow, measured stroke. he exhaled, the sharp hiss cutting through the heavy quiet of the room.

“good pace,” gojo said, that clinical lilt sneaking back into his tone as if he wasn’t flushed across the cheekbones and gripping the couch cushion beneath his thigh. “see? you’re a natural.”

air left your lungs in a shaky rush. the room felt hot, tension thick and heavy like syrup, every breath a struggle to pull in fully. you’d only meant to compare– scientific method, right? but now,

now, the strokes kept going. slow and steady as your palm following the flushed ridge of his shaft up, thumb circling beneath the head before sliding down again, pulsing heavier under your touch with every pass.

you hadn’t realized how quiet the room had gone. no more rustle of pages. no laptop keys. just the heavy, muted sound of your own breath mingling with his—the softest little hitch in gojo’s throat every time your fingers twined just a little tighter, a little lower.

socked feet padded slow across the floor, getting increasingly louder as they got closer to you. 

geto.

he didn’t speak. didn’t rush. just approached with that same calm presence that always seemed to ground the chaoticness of his best friend.

he stopped in front of you, gaze flicking down to where your fingers were still wrapped around gojo’s cock. his eyes narrowed slightly—not in anger. not even in disapproval. just that signature quiet, unreadable expression. 

he lowered himself onto the couch beside gojo, manspreading, shorts slouched low enough that the waistband dipped scandalously beneath the ridges of his abs.

the scent of him hit you first—something deep and woodsy, like cedar and fresh sweat and the faintest edge of whatever cologne he must’ve applied hours ago. geto reached out, warm fingers curling gently around your free wrist. no pressure. just guiding.

he brought your hand down to his crotch, his length resting heavy against his thigh. he felt different beneath your palm– thicker near the base, the skin velvety-soft and warm. the vein running along the side pulsed faintly against your touch as your fingers wrapped around him.

“same as you did him,” geto mumbled, thumb brushing softly along the back of your wrist. “pace has to stay the same– constant variables, yeah?”

your hand moved. slow. uncertain at first.

geto was heavy—heavier than gojo’s. not by much, but enough for you to noticed. your palm dragged along the subtle gradient of his shaft, darker where it met the sharp v-line of his hips, lightening toward the flushed pink tip.

he inhaled quietly, the faintest tremor running through his thigh beneath your touch. but your strokes were too soft, hesitant..

and gojo noticed.

of course he noticed.

before you could even register the movement, his hand slid over yours —long fingers lacing through yours, guiding the pace. the pressure. the exact twist of your wrist at the crown, just beneath the head where the skin was most sensitive.

gojo’s eyes flicked up to his best friend. pale lashes low, sharp mouth tugging into something far too knowing. he wasn’t just helping.

he was showing off.

geto’s eyes lowered, lids heavy, jaw tight as he watched the both of you work him. his cock twitched faintly in your hand, tremoring beneath your fingers. his breath stuttered—a rare crack in his usually tranquill composure.

“told you she’d catch on,” he grinned. “quick learner. that’s our girl.”

your strokes steadied, muscles relaxing without realizing it, the pace set between both your hands now.

and god, the sight before you was so filthy.

campus’ most notorious pair— one a certified genius with a smart mouth and a worse ego. the other, the golden boy athlete, the strategist, the untouchable.

both of them spread out on the couch for your hands only.

hundreds—no, thousands—of girls on campus would have killed, literally killed, to even get a glimpse of the view you were getting right now. and you hadn’t even asked for it.

you pumped steadily along geto’s length, gliding with the faintest slick sound as pre-cum gathered at the flushed head. it smeared down his base, making the glide easier with every pull. his hips twitched upward into your hand, barely– but just enough to feel the way his breath faltered at the back of his throat. your thumb dragged carefully along the sensitive underside of his tip, collecting the pre-cum and smoothing it back down with a swift stroke.

your hands worked in tandem, matching the pace perfectly. constant. like a variable, unchanging. like a proper scientist gathering her data.

“pace is perfect,” geto murmured, voice deeper now, rasped thin with restraint. “fuck, j-just like that.”

“seee?” gojo cooed, smug. “he likes when you do that.”

and even though geto was the more stoic one out of the pair, he was starting to crack. the strain was so visible now—the way his broad chest rose and fell, the way a faint flush had climbed up his throat to the sharp line of his jaw. his thigh muscles flexed under your palm as he swore softly under his breath.

“keep—keep going, don’t stop.”

their thighs began to tense harder, the couch creaking beneath their combined weight, muscles bunching beneath skin, recurrent sounds of shick shick shick and shallow breaths filled the air. your palm twisted at the heads of both of them, mimicking the motion gojo had taught you earlier. precise. practiced. 

and that was it.

geto’s breath stuttered. he let out a quiet, guttural curse as his warmth spilled messily across your knuckles, thick and hot, coating your hand in long, heavy pulses.

gojo wasn’t far behind. with a sharp hiss and a barely-contained groan, his release followed, spilling over your wrist, dripping down your fingers and pooling into the creases of your palms.

“fuck,” gojo rasped, raking his fingers through his hair.

geto’s head fell back against the couch, his chest heaving and for a moment—just a moment—silence settled. 

until gojo spoke, the glimmer of mischief already returning to his cerulean eyes.

“so…” he drawled. “who do you think?”

your head snapped up, eyes blown. “i don’t—i mean—” your voice faltered. “it’s really… close. i’d have to, uh– i’d have to do a more thorough inspection.”

“hypothesis,” gojo chimed smoothly, like he was reciting off a lecture slide. “if we compare variables in different conditions, we’ll get a clearer conclusion.”

“different conditions?”

and before you could even argue or think, his big hands curved tight around your hips, fingertips pressing into the soft flesh just above your thighs. 

“c’mere. testing phase two.”

you squeaked, legs scrambling to keep balance as he effortlessly hoisted you into his lap, the mess on your palms long forgotten—his cock already twitching back to life beneath you. not fully hard yet, but weighted against your inner thigh. warmth radiating from him, seeping into your skin.

“satoru—”

“shhh,” he grinned, hands already tugging your shorts and panties to the side in one greedy motion, pushing them down to tangle around one ankle. “you’re the one who said more ‘thorough inspection’.”

oh.. you did say that, didn’t you?

your knees framed his hips as he nudged the thick head of his length between your folds, the glide so smooth, so easy it made your stomach twist. slick with both his spend and your own, still warm and sticky where it gathered at your slit. the blunt tip kissed your entrance, making your breath catch in the back of your throat.

he gripped your hips and rolled you down in one smooth, swift motion. the stretch punched the air from your lungs– not even fully inside yet and he already stretched you wide, the curve of him kissing that sweet spot deep inside that had your walls fluttering helplessly around him.

he tilted his hips upward as he dragged you down the rest of the way, his cock splitting you open until he was fully seated inside– buried to the hilt.

your head rolled forward into the crook of his shoulder, nails digging into the broad muscle concealed under his hoodie. 

he groaned under his breath, hips rolling, driving himself deeper into the soft, vulnerable clutch of your pussy. he kept the pace steady, hands holding you firmly with each blow, fingers flexing against your hips, your moans spilling shamelessly into the space between you. 

“satoru, don't be so greedy now,” the deep timbre of geto’s voice came from behind you. you flinched slightly as his warm hands slid along your waist, the calloused pads of his fingers tracing the small of your back.

gojo was nothing short of unfazed, not even faltering one bit. he leaned back into the couch like he had all the time in the world, arms stretching along the top, mouth tilting with lazy satisfaction. “new testing conditions,” he explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “simultaneous variables.”

your brain was trying to process what he meant—until you felt what he meant.

the blunt heat of suguru’s cock, hard and flushed, pressed against the curve of your ass. the tip slid through the messiness already gathered between your thighs, guided by suguru’s hand.

“both?” you whispered.

“both,” gojo confirmed brightly. “for accuracy, obviously.”

suguru was much slower than gojo, his cock pushing against the tight ring of muscle just below where satoru was already thrusting inside you. the stretch was unbearable, overwhelming. you sobbed softly, head falling forward.

“easy, baby,” suguru soothed, voice like rough velvet. “you can take it. know you can.”

your body arched instinctively against the intrusion as your muscles trembled, walls clenching reflexively. but suguru was patient, steady, as he fed himself into you inch by inch, the broad base of his cock kissing the dip of your ass.

“f-fuck—”

you choked on a moan as he finally bottomed out, the thickness of him pressing against the slender curve of satoru, the sensation alone making you feel so full.

you could hear the slick sounds of your pussy taking both of them at once, a perfect, practiced pattern. when one plunged deep, the other eased back, allowing you to breathe—barely. the obscene slick sounds filled the room, wet and rhythmic, matching the ragged groans spilling from both men’s mouths.

“good pace,” gojo praised again, panting now, eyes glazed over with pure pleasure. “see? consistent variables.”

your head spun, doing full 360’s as the world began narrowing down to the sensation between your thighs—the relentless stretch, the fullness, causing fat, salty tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. 

suguru leaned forward, his hand cupping gently around your jaw, tilting your face upward. you parted your lips momentarily, half expecting a kiss.

but instead, he kissed gojo.

and it wasn’t chaste, but instead messy, desperate. open-mouthed, their tongues slid together with a slick noise that had your knees buckling as their teeth clashed softly, breath mingling. suguru’s fingers threaded into the snowy strands of satoru’s hair to hold him in place.

you froze.

“wha–”

before you could say more, gojo broke the kiss, a string of spit connecting their mouths. his pupils hazed over, breath heaving. “what, you jealous?”

he leaned forward, catching your mouth in a kiss. you tasted both of them on his tongue—gojo’s sharp, cool spearminty tang and suguru’s richer warmth, like dark spice. 

“nghh, ‘toru—” you whined into his mouth, the sound of his name on your lips barely more than a moan, but it was loud enough for geto to notice.

the rhythm shifted as his hands clamped down hard at your waist. his eyes darkened as he let out a low huff, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was jealous. jealous at the fact that you were moaning gojo’s name, and not his.

“awe,” gojo taunted breathlessly, hips pounding up into you with a delicious, brutal precision. “someone’s a little insecure.” 

“shut up.” 

the couch creaked under the weight of their movements. the slap of skin against skin filled the room. your slick dripped down over their thighs, pooling beneath you.

“sugu–suguruu, hngh,” the syllables trembled against your breath, like you could barely hold the shape of his name.

gojo froze for half a second. “oh? so now it’s him?”

suguru groaned against the nape of your neck, his teeth grazing the damp skin there. “she, fuck– only moaned my name because y-you were slacking, bro.”

“fine,” gojo hissed with a swift roll of his eyes. “if you want him soo bad—”

his hand slipped between your thighs, long fingers sliding down the trembling plane of your stomach, tracing the soft line where your muscles tightened and fluttered. 

they paused at your pelvis, pressing down firmly, as though he was checking just how deep both of them reached. like he could feel suguru’s cock pushing up inside from the outside.

he circled the sensitive bundle in slow, deliberate motions, dragging the slick already gathered there across the swollen nerves.

the pads of his fingers worked your clit in firm, ruthless circles, alternating pressure until your hips jolted down against him instinctively, forcing his cock—and suguru’s—deeper inside.

you tried to suppress the sound in your throat—the way it curled up, warm and breathless—but it betrayed you anyway. “satoruu, f-fuck,”

gojo’s hips rolled upward in a steady, devastating grind, the curve of his cock dragging so sweetly against your g-spot that your breath hitched sharp in your chest.

“that’s my girl,” he purred, satisfaction bleeding into every syllable. his free hand came up, palm cradling the side of your face, thumb brushing the sweat-damp hair back from your temple. 

you felt suguru stiffen behind you—only slightly, but still enough to notice. his hands spread wide against your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft dip of your waist, anchoring you in place.

“whatever..” his voice was quiet, but it thrummed low. not quite jealousy. not quite possessiveness.  but the way his cock surged deeper into you with the next thrust betrayed him.. he wasn’t as unaffected as he sounded.

their rhythm locked into something fierce—each movement coordinated but rougher now, driven by the silent competition pulsing between them. suguru’s thrusts angled sharper, deeper, the thickness of him forcing you down even further onto gojo’s lap.

your fingers fisted into the soft cotton of gojo’s hoodie, nails biting through the fabric as your body rocked between them. you couldn’t hold back the sounds now. the cries slipping free, high and desperate, every syllable of their names breaking apart on your tongue.

“so fucking tight,” gojo muttered, voice loose and worn out around the edges. “shit—sugu, feel how she’s squeezing us both.”

“mm. she’s close.” suguru’s hand slid from your waist to your throat, not choking, just grounding you. the weight of his palm steadied your frantic pulse, fingers pressing into the rapid flutter beneath your skin. 

the double sensation combined with gojo’s lissom digits swirling figure eights on your swollen cunt knocked every coherent thought from your mind. the feeling of them dragging against each other inside you, stretching your walls to the brink, felt so, so nasty.

the tension coiled sharp and bright in your belly, the ache building until every nerve felt strung tight as a wire. your thighs trembled, the overstimulation sending jolts through your spine as their thrusts grew deeper, rougher.

beneath the steady roll of your hips, satoru was panting now, his composure fraying. suguru wasn’t faring much better—their breathing ragged, muscles jolting beneath you where they clutched desperately for leverage.

they were both so close. you could feel it. the way their cocks thickened inside you, the tremble in suguru’s fingers where they gripped your throat, the sharp tilt of gojo’s hips as his rhythm grew erratic.

“o-ohhmygodd,” you gasped, voice breaking under the strain of it, your stomach tightening under the relentless pleasure.

the heat inside you snapped like a fraying wire—tight, then shredding all at once—your orgasm slamming into you so hard you could’ve sworn stars were present in the room with you. you whined out, high and broken, the sound ripped raw from your parted mouth as your whole body seized up between them.

your cunt gushed beneath you, and not just the usual slick gush of wetness. this was different.

it broke out of you all at once, your body spasming uncontrollably as liquid sprayed, soaking where your thighs straddled them, pooling messily down both their laps.

“m-messy girl,” gojo choked, almost a whimper, staring down at where you’d just absolutely drenched him.

his fingers abandoned your clit only to dig into your hips, bruising, anchoring you down as he pistoned up into you. his face was a portrait of ruin—mouth slack, eyes wild and glassy, skin flushed hot pink up to his hairline.

the way you gushed around them only made them punt into you harder, greedier, riding the high of it, chasing their own release with desperate, sloppy thrusts that sent more wetness splashing down their thighs.

gojo came first– unsurprisingly so, his hips stuttering violently as he spilled inside you, a hot, thick flood that made you whimper at the sudden heat.

his forehead knocked clumsily against your shoulder, breath coming in sharp, broken gasps, as he murmured something low and ruined that you couldn’t even make out.

“shit, shit—baby—god, you’re so—fucking—perfect—”

suguru wasn’t too far behind either, the grip on your throat tightening just slightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to make you feel the absolute desperate tremor running through him as he buried himself as deep as he could and came, spilling thick and deep alongside gojo’s release.

they gasped almost in unison, two rough, desperate sounds punching straight from their guts—suguru’s fingers digging bruisingly into your throat, gojo’s hips jerking helplessly upward into the vice of your spasming cunt.

your walls fluttered helplessly, milking them for every last drop, until suguru groaned low against your neck, teeth scraping lazy and satisfied along your skin.

the three of you slumped together, a tangled, messy heap of limbs and sweat and satisfaction.

and the room was finally quiet, the only sounds being the faint rasps of breath coming from each of you, tiresome as you recovered from your high.

“s-so, heh, final answer?” satoru’s voice perked.

you blinked blearily, your mind clearly still foggy. “huh?”

“girl.. who’s bigger?”

“oh my god.” you groaned into his shoulder.

“scientific conclusion,” suguru added helpfully, voice still a little breathless.

you sighed, cheeks burning before murmuring out a small, “geto.”

“aw, c’mon!”

@ssorenz™ do not, copy, repost or translate anywhere without my knowledge.

[bluewxrld07]

Blue Strips (Insta AU)

Summary: When Joe Burrow gets caught with a supermodel, Y/N tries her best to heal.

Author's note: this will slowly become a mini series! I think I've got some slow burn type of feelings going for this one hehe

Joe burrow x exgfestapa!reader, Jack Hughes X estapa!reader

Warning(s): not a lot, just how breakups usually go, cheating slightly mentioned. Enjoy :)

ynestapa just posted a photo!

Liked by bffig, edwards.73, teehiggins, joeyb_9, and 980k others

ynestapa Everybody's Fool

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bffig soooo hot, so hot

user Ummmm... where's the ring???

user Y'all her ring is gone..?

edwards.73 slayyyy

user y'all maybe she's getting it cleaned? don't fret yet

→ user I don't think so, not after what TMZ just posted user3

TMZ just posted a photo!

liked by user4, user1, oliviaponton, and 1.2m others

TMZ New couple alert?? Cincinnati Bengals franchise Quarterback, Joe Burrow, has been seen around town with Victoria's Secret model and Tik Tok influencer, Olivia Ponton!! Questions and rumors started to increase especially after seeing Burrow's latest, now ex-fiance, Y/N Estapa, has been seen not only with boxes outside their shared Cincinnati home, but also wearing no wedding ring!

What happened between the pair? Read our article for more information in our bio!

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user Oh please tell me this is a serious joke

user He left Y/N L/N for this chick??? Joey please have some fucking common sense in you

user Poor Y/N :(

user Yeah this won't last, but enjoy it while it lasts Olivia...

user Y/N has always deserved better anyways, especially if this is how low Joe is going to stoop. Yikes.

ynestapa just posted some photos!

liked by edwards.73, markestapa, bffig, rutgermcgroarty, and 900k others

ynestapa Took a visit home for the time being <3

tagged markestapa, edwards.73

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edwards.73 FINALLY 🥳

markestapa I've missed my favorite skating buddy 🥲

→ ynestapa I was literally home two weeks ago you dunce.... markestapa

→ markestapa Okay so?? I can still miss you duh ynestapa

user THE HAIR?????

bffig Oh yes yes I do agree that brown is your color HELLO 😘

→ ynestapa Had to go back to the natural roots after having a copycat on my hands 🙊 bffig

user not her hinting at Olivia I'm dead

user Yeah Olivia has nothing on Y/N

*liked by ynestapa*

edwards.73 Who got you the flowers tho??

→ ynestapa No idea 🤷‍♀️ edwards.73

→ edwards.73 You lie just as good as your brother ynestapa

lhughes_06 Wtf how do I always miss when you're home????

→ ynestapa Awww miss you too Lukey lhughes_06

jackhughes has started following you!

ynestapa just posted a photo!

liked by bffig, markestapa, jackhughes, edwards.73, and 1.1m others

ynestapa barefaced

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user Poor girl's eyes look so swollen and bloodshot aww :(

user She's definitely heartbroken rn this is so sad for her

user I can't imagine what it feels like being cheated on and seeing him choose her. That's so shitty

*liked by ynestapa*

markestapa Wonder why

→ ynestapa Literally shut up markestapa

→ markestapa Don't let his pity lies and apologies get to you. I've taught you better than that ynestapa

→ ynestapa I'm older than you, so don't even start with that markestapa

edwards.73 Moooom the siblings are fightingggg

→ ynestapa You be quiet too edwards.73

→ markestapa Can it Eddy edwards.73

→ edwards.73 Someone come pick me up I'm scared

lhughes_06 Well turn that frown upside down because your fave is in town now

→ ynestapa Don't play with me lhughes_06

→ lhughes_06 Literally just got to the lakehouse ynestapa

→ markestapa I've never seen her speed the car out of the Canes parking lot so fast lhughes_06

→ lhughes_06 Wow and her love for Canes really is something unbeatable. Guess I just topped that 🥰 markestapa ynestapa

→ ynestapa yeah yeah hush we're on our way lhughes_06 markestapa

lhughes_06 just posted a photo!

liked by jackhughes, ynestapa, dylanduke, edwards.73, and 800k others

lhughes_06 What a night to start off the summer

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ynestapa I've missed my boys

edwards.73 awww Lukeyyyyy 🤭

markestapa Tell Gavin to give me that helmet back, it's my turn

ynestapa wtf is happening in the basement rn??

→ edwards.73 Well come look, unless you and your new pal are too busy 🧐 ynestapa

→ ynestapa omfg 🤦‍♀️ edwards.73

user Ooooh new buddy??? I'm intrigued

user I just know these boys heal Y/N in the best way possible. True family right there

bffig Ummm better not start the shenanigans till I get there

Oliviaponton just posted a photo!

liked by user, addisonrae, Joeyb_9, charlidamelio, and 900k others

oliviaponton Blondie

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user Oh I think someone is really insecure rn

user Oh honey.. umm

user This is... uhh

addisonrae love

user Yeah this is a no from me

ynestapa just posted a photo!

liked by jackhughes, bffig, markestapa, lhughes_06, and 1.3m others

ynestapa I'ma strip down all your wrongs

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user NOW THISSSSS

user Olivia punching air rn

bffig Suddenly my pants are on the floor???

ynestapa Happens when you look into my eyes babes bffig

→ bffig Well shit now I wanna know how I can never stop staring at you ynestapa

markestapa I've seen too much where's your shirt

edwards.73 Well hi there what is THIS

→ ynestapa not for you edwards.73

jackhughes Wowza hello

user UMMM JACK?!

user JACK HUGHES IS HERE!!!

lhughes_06 If you don't hurry up we're gonna miss the uber

→ ynestapa I coming I coming lhughes_06

bffig just posted a photo!

liked by ynestapa, edwards.73, markestapa, jackhughes, lhughes_06 and 875k others

bffig Actual love of my life

tagged ynestapa

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user idk who I wanna be more rn

user Name a prettier bestie duo... I'll wait.

ynestapa Promise to never take the ring off or cheat and I'm yours

→ bffig deal ynestapa

→ edwards.73 deal ynestapa

→ jackhughes deal ynestapa

→ ynestapa Ok hey now 😨

user JAAAAAACKKKKK?!!!?!?!??!

user Does Jack realize that this is PUBLIC??

lhughes_06 Tone it down a bit chief jackhughes

jackhughes Idk what you mean lhughes_06

markestapa just posted a photo!

liked by edwards.73, ynestapa, bffig, lhughes_06, jackhughes and 500k others

markestapa Sissy boo

tagged ynestapa

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ynestapa Ew never that

ynestapa Love you tho <3

user I can feel that this group is where Y/N truly feels like herself

user something tells me things weren't always sunshine and rainbows behind the scenes with her and Joe

*liked by ynestapa*

lhughes_06 Ok ok y'all are my fave sibs. I'll admit it.

jackhughes Single??

→ markestapa You see a ring? jackhughes

→ ynestapa not anymore markestapa

user OOP--

ynestapa just posted a couple photos!

liked by bffig, tatemcrae, jackhughes, markestapa, teehiggins, and 1m others

ynestapa Sooo last night was fun!

load more comments

user WHO IS THAT

user WHAT

user PLS TELL ME THAT IS JACK IN THAT LAST PHOTO

bffig what a wild one. Can't wait for the rest of summer

lhughes_06 I can't lmfao idk whether to laugh or cry or both.

→ markestapa Both definitely both

→ ynestapa You're both drama queens jeepers

jackhughes You're gorgeous

→ ynestapa Awww jackhughes <3

edwards.73 YAAAS GET INTO IT BAAAABES

→ ynestapa never say that again Eddy lmfao edwards.73

[drabbletron]

Relax A Little: Unknown Bot X Reader

|| Ngl my brain is fried a bit from locking tf in lol. Have an old piece that I could not for the life of me think of a bot for (could've been Teebs or Kup or whoever really). Enjoy! ||

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

tw: suggestive content below

Slowly kissing down your neck from behind your ear to under your clenched jaw he feels your shoulders, tense from the days work, hesitantly fall.

"Its just us here, sweetspark. No one else."

Heat bubbles in your abdomen at his sweet murmurs, but stress has you in a choke hold. You pray you haven't forgotten anything vital that needed your attention as you feel his servos caress down your still clothed thighs. Work life fights to bleed into your private life, but the mech that holds you fights harder. Kiss after kiss he chases away the mental load of the day. His mouth over your throat practically begs you to come back to him, urging that everything is okay and that the world won't fall apart if you relax for a moment.

"Its okay, love. I've got you."

He runs his nasal ridge back up your throat to under your ear lobe and traces a path again on the other side. No part of your neck or jaw left unloved by his derma. Occasionally he swaps to run the tip of his glossa over your throat, feather-light and you sigh at the heat. Ever so slowly your shoulders relax and you melt into his touch. His big, strong arms there to catch you and keep you from falling.

You run your hands from his upper arms to hold the sides of his helm while he continues to kiss the base of your throat and down past the collar of your work clothes. His servos slowly make their way up your thighs, over your hips, and finally resting on your waist and the small of your back. He gives gentle squeezes and hums in satisfaction when you sigh and yield even further under his ministrations, finally willing to let go completely when he brings you up against his chassis to sit with you straddling his lap.

"You've been working so hard, I think its time someone took care of you for a change."

"Maybe," you sigh distractedly.

"I'll take care of you, don't you worry."

He lets you pull away as you unbutton the front of your shirt, still letting it fall closed so as not to feel too vulnerable. He kisses the side of your temple as a thanks because he's not certain he's careful enough to handle the more meticulous parts of your garment. Then he moves south, still trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck until he reaches the edge of your collar once more. He's reverent in his touch as he pulls it open and down to reveal your shoulder to him.

He's grateful you trust him so, what with being such a closed off person. While on the outside you look to be soft and inviting, which is why public facing jobs always seemed to follow you around like a bad habit, but on the inside you've been hurt by putting on a show to please others. All your life you've had to lie like that. Just to make a few meager dollars to pay bills. But now, without anyone else around, he sees you. The real you under the facade. These are the most hidden parts of you that only he's allowed to see and every vent has more of you seeping into his sensors. You smell so alien and warm in all the right ways.

[rogue-durin-16]

HEAD-TO-HEAD (drabble)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst splattered with fluff/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget @ladystardustfromarss @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @sxalbatf @jetjuliette @luvrottt @fromjupitertocentauri @ecompstolemysoul @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bitter-post-millennial @gotxpenny @knight-of-thesun @scottstr3et

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @gotxpenny

Permanent taglist: @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, smoking, brief PTSD, super light allusions to suicidal thoughts if you wanna read it like that

A/N: this is too damn long for a drabble but look away. LOOK AWAY. NOW. ENJOY<3

Head-to-head masterlist

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The sky hadn't changed in days. Same murky stretch of clouds occasionally allowing the stars to peek through, same biting wind. At least it all felt a bit warmer now, either because of the nights spent indoors or due to the slightest temperature rise that the first days of March brought to Mourmelon. I leaned on the outer wall of the barracks, hands in my pockets, cigarette burning too low to draw from. I didn't bother lighting another.

The barrack door creaked behind me. The sound attracted my gone gaze, and I met hers for an instant. I couldn't tell who looked away faster.

"You're gonna freeze out here."

"Ain't that bad." I tossed the stub to the ground, grinding it with my foot. "You lost?"

"Looking for you."

I spared her another look, longer. Her arms, until now crossed, unfolded to fish out a pack of smokes.

"Okay," She lit a cigarette, the flame catching her visage just enough for me to see the dark circles under her eyes. "Let's talk." Plain, simple, with her foot half-turned like she was ready to bolt if it went sideways.

"Oh, now you wanna talk?" I asked, mouth curling bitter at the edges.

She took a long drag, held it, then breathed out slow. "Well, now that I don't wanna blow my brains out, yes."

I scoffed, searching for something in the distance that would distract me from the tightening of my chest and the ghost of the deafening shot ringing in my ears. "You forgot how to be funny or what?"

"I dunno, Joe," she accompanied her quiet response with a shrug. "I forgot a lot of things."

We stood in silence for a beat, the wind rustling through the barracks' roof above us. Inside, someone laughed too loud. It felt like a different world.

"So?" She prompted, shifting from one foot to another. "Do you wanna talk or not?"

I found myself at loss of words, not even knowing where to start. Every sentence I rehearsed came out wrong in my head, and if it came out wrong in my head, it'd sound fatal out loud. So I settled for the thing that felt most true.

"I don't know how to do this." Not without it ending up badly, I wanted to add. I didn't.

She exhaled a defeated sigh. "Makes the two of us."

Another silence followed, heavier than the last but not as sharp. The wind cut sharper, clearing up the night sky ever so subtly.

She looked down at her cigarette like it would give her answers, took another drag and held it out to me, like the gesture alone was a truce.

I took up the offering without a 'thank you', and we stood still, shoulder to shoulder, sharing the same smoke like it might fill the cracks we couldn't name.

She inhaled a sharp breath before breaking the quiet. Didn't look at me while doing so. "You think we're friends?" The question hit soft but landed hard. She didn't mean for it to matter as much as it did. An afterthought in delivery. A loaded gun in disguise.

For a change, I took my time to answer —which in retrospective, might have made it all heavier.

"It's something I've been thinking about lately." She filled my reticence with another sentence, another absentmindedly voiced thought. Perhaps to give me time without being too obvious about it, or maybe to cover up the fact that she had made the air between us ache.

I twirled the cigarette between my digits. The paper was torn from her teeth, still damp at the end.

"No." I said, taking a drag, the taste of her mixing up with the burning sensation. "No," I repeated, blowing the smoke away. "we're not friends."

There was no accusation in her expression, only a quiet kind of acknowledgment. She had known the answer before asking, and wanted to hear it from me anyway. Tactless and unceremonious, but sincere nonetheless, as sad as it was.

"Friends don't..." I cleared my throat, kicking a pebble away from me. "They don't treat each other like we do. You know that."

"I know." Her hands buried deep into her jacket, seemingly to preserve the cherished heat we had been missing for months. "I'm just tryin' to place you somewhere."

I spun my head to check on her, only to find her eyes as lost as mine in the horizon of the camp, slightly squinted, as if she was trying to put something together.

"Do you even like me?" Her question wasn't sad, nor angry. It was curious, the way you ask about the the drills scheduled, or whether the mess is still serving coffee.

"You don't gotta place me anywhere." My words had no malice, and I prayed for her not to hear a fight in them.

It should've been easy to say yes. But it never was, not with her. Not when I didn't even know if she fell into that category. Like. Seemed like an understatement. Sounded off. No, I didn't like her, and I wasn't about to lie to her, but the truth was tangled up into anger and denial, and I didn't have it in me to unravel it.

I rubbed a hand over my jaw, trying to crack a response that would convey the overwhelming mess I felt for her without digging my own grave.

"You drive me crazy."

Her brow pinched slightly. She hadn't expected that, but it was something manageable, a confession already known among us. She could work with that. She just needed to find her own way to do so, so she asked, "'S that good or bad?"

"Ain't a compliment."

I was fast—faster than what had become usual. It left her stunned for two seconds, having lost practice when it came to giving it back as good as she was handed. With the corner of her lips twitching, she let out a small huff. "Alright, Liebgott."

There wasn't a smile on her face, but some of the tightness had eased out of her shoulders. The cigarette hung forgotten between my fingers, smoke curling between us in slow, lazy spirals. I handed it back, my fingers brushing hers too deliberately to pass as casual.

"Just a kiss, huh?"

I didn't miss the way her jaw tightened. She would have rather chewed glass than have to go there again. But because she humored me just long enough to keep me hooked, she asked, "You're still thinking about it?" Her eyes met mine, guarded, expectant. A bit eager for an answer, a bit confused by where I wanted this to go.

"That what you asked Grant after fucking him?"

"Oh, fuck off." She dismissed me, mentally taking a step back. I was trying to make her jump. She saw it clear as day, and chose not to give me the satisfaction. "Just answer the question." She urged, her lips wrapping about the cigarette immediately afterwards.

I looked straight ahead, jaw locked. If I wanted this to go anywhere at all, it was my turn to relent. "Yeah. I'm still thinking about it."

Stillness on her part. Not a single reaction to my admission, not even a quick glance out of pity. Then—

"It felt good." It could've passed as a slipup, but she was determined. "The kiss."

"Yeah. Fuck." My mouth went a little dry, but I pushed through, just like she had. "It felt good."

She nodded once, almost to herself. "We shouldn't do that again, though." It functioned as a full stop on the topic, but she tried to go further, "You and I... We're-"

"I know."

I cut her off, unwilling to hear what came next. We remained suspended in the moment for a while; two ghosts trying to play house with her burning Lucky Strike and the ruins of a conversation.

"Rumor has it they'll have us jump into Berlin." she tried, flicking the ash to the side, too casual to be genuine.

I latched onto the chitchat like a man drowning. "I heard the drop won't be ours."

"Doesn't matter." She paused, staring back past the shadows casted by the barracks. "One way or another, we're entering Germany."

I hummed affirmatively, disinterested in the superficiality of the exchange, yet not wanting to give up on recovering whatever normalcy we seemed to be regaining.

"How d'you say Nazi pig in Yiddish?"

I couldn't help but snort at the levity of her tone. "What?"

"Come on," she insisted, glancing at me for the first time in minutes. The glimpse of her old self peeking under her shell mimicked the starlight seeping through the clouds. "Teach me a bad word, I'll make good use of it."

"Fuck. Okay, try uh..." I cursed under my breath, rummaging through the memories. "Alright, try schweinehund."

It was her turn to laugh like she used to when I talked nonsense just to get a rise out of her. "Sch-wine-what?"

"Jesus, that's awful." I winced. "Schweinehund."

"Schveinyhoond?" she tried again, lacking knowledge but not determination.

"You're butchering it." I scrunched my nose at her, not bothering to hide my annoyance. Not that she minded it anyway. "You want the Krauts to shoot you twice?"

She huffed, putting out the cigarette against the barracks' wall behind us. "Just say it again."

"Schweinehund." I complied, slower this time.

"Schweinehund?"

"Close enough. They'll know what you mean."

"You sure that's not a compliment?" She attempted a joke that somehow landed.

"Yes, Y/n," I retorted, putting emphasis on her name. "I'm pretty fuckin' sure it's not a compliment."

"Just making sure." She gave me a distracted shrug, sneaking one last tentative glance at me before stepping back, her hand reaching for the door's handle. "Let's go in, yeah? I don't miss freezing my ass off."

Let's go in.

Not I'm going in. Not Wanna go in.

Let's go in, she commanded, so I followed.

[moonlilymusings]

warnings: !MDNI! fem!reader, sub!anaxa, dom!reader, pegg!ng, cro$$dres!ng, ooc anaxa? possibly. this was funny to me so i wrote it down and now i share it with my lovely munchkins, idk what words tumblr has blocked so im just gonna censor every word that makes me raise an eyebrow. uhhhhhhhhhhh idk what else to tag. not proofread lmao.

“I don’t think you fully understand my creative vision,” you say, trying to keep your face convincingly serious. Anaxagoras wasn’t buying it.

You two stand in silence once more before you continue your argument for the idea.

“Aglaea will never recognize you if you’re wearing a dress- because *you* would never do that!”

Again, Anaxa stands there, arms crossed, one hip timed to the side as he stares at you in utter bafflement. Beside you, Hyacine can’t contain her laughter.

“Please, master?” She asks with her best puppy eyes. “I think her plan will work, we just have to trust each other!”

Anaxa’s steely mask cracks at the words of the girl in front of him and he turn his gaze to you, who is attempting to look innocent, but are making a fool of yourself.

“If you truly think it only takes a dress to fool the *dressmaker*, you are surely besotten,” he says sharply. You hand him a wig and a pair of heels. He snatches them from you and stomps away.

As much as he’d like to defend himself in this situation, he has no other reason to be angry doing this than out of sheer petty. Sneaking into a feast just to steal a plate of food… he’s sure if the two of you asked, Agalaea would have accommodated you, but you were slower sometimes, especially when it comes to social cues and Hyacine is one of your few validators. And then there was that damn dress… to say he was entirely repulsed by it would be a lie. He knows he looks good, he knows he has a lithe build, a *frail* one at that. And he knows how much you eyeball his waist when he’s doing menial tasks. It makes him feel warm, despite all reason. Despite the two of you already being some sort of relationship already. Anaxa knows what makes your cogs turn and you know his. He knows you love arguing with him, so the encounter before was simply foreplay. And here he is, wearing a dress and sneaking into the back of Aglaea’s party. The dress is almost the same color as his hair and it’s silky and breathable. One side is hitched up to reveal his leg, his knee leading down to his decorated ankle. His heels are one of the popular shoes in style at the moment and the hairpiece is a snowy white color that reminds him of one of his students and covers his hidden eye. He makes a bee-line for the food table. As pretty as he felt, his stomach couldn’t stop doing flips. “A dromas dressed in finery,” he hears someone chuckle among the crowd. It makes him stop in his tracks before he continues onward, never forgetting his mission. As he’s loading the plate, he begins to question where it went wrong.

Why am I here?

Why am I doing this for them?

Do they really think they can tell me what to do?

I wonder if anyone recognizes me…

Why did I allow this?

Maybe she’ll let me keep the shoes…

He sighs, finishing the masterpiece of an artfully stacked food plate and he places another atop it to keep it from flying away. He smirks to himself.

“Too easy,” he chuckles, turning on his heel to leave.

Aglaea.

She’s staring at him with cold eyes, her fingers tapping against her cheek. Usually he would glare, but he’s not supposed to be him right now, is he? Anaxa diverts his eye contact and takes a different exit before breaking out in a run. The two girls behind the stupid idea peak up from their hiding place, a grin on each face. Anaxa falls behind the bush between the two and he shoves the plate of food in your hands. “There. Now get me home.”

You lay on his bed as he dries himself from the small bath he had just finished bathing in. He didn’t seem to hold the same affinity for baths as the other Crysos Heirs, but perhaps he did without expressing much about it.

“You looked really pretty today,” you say with a suppressed grin. He really did stun you. Every day he does, something new and beautiful every day. He grumbles something under his breath as he turns his back on you, standing in front of a full length mirror to dry his hair.

“You should put it on again,” you say, watching his reflected expression. He’s blushing madly and his eyes are squeezed shut.

“And why would I do that?” He asks through grit teeth.

“I want to show you just how pretty you are. Is that so bad?”

Anaxagoras is on his back, fingers clutching the sheets as you suck him off, your hands squeezing his thighs apart to keep him from accidentally knocking you in the head. His eyes are screwed shut but every twist and flick of your tongue has them rolling back. Your other hand is occupied alternating between stretching him open and massaging his balls, fingers reaching for his prostate, rubbing at it before pulling away just a little too soon. He curses your name and then blesses it, opening his legs and then squeezing them around your head. You commanded him to touch his chest during this but that was easily forgotten as soon as you started fingering him.

The dress is bunched up around his hips and pulled down from his collar bone to expose his fished chest. He insisted on the heels if he was to wear the dress and what started as soft praises and kisses turned into.. this. His hand reached for your hair but you catch it, pushing his lithe wrist to rub his palm against his abdomen, further teasing himself.

Anaxa hates sex. He can’t be composed, nor can he overpower without begging before the act, nor can he use this for his research, nor does it aid in clearing his mind of you at all. And to be brought to his knees by mere pleasure stimuli and not someone he has determined the on the same level as himself is truly humbling. You have complete power over him and the fact he could best you in every academic endeavor could not matter less in this environment. The smartest thing to do would be to submit.

He places his heeled foot against your shoulder and pushes with all his might and it works. You complain mildly but then you hook his legs over your shoulder, mindlessly kissing his ankles as he feels the strap that you had put in earlier catch on his hole. He bites his lip as it pushes against him, his eyelashes fluttering. This is humiliating, he thinks, as he always does.

Anaxa angles his hips to take the strap a little deeper before you still him and push his legs up further, his knees on each side of his head. You kiss him deeply and that brings the first vocal moan from him, his eyes rolling back as you penetrate his soft hole. He can’t move, he can’t think, he is rendered completely at the mercy of this person who just fell into his life. Brilliant.

You thrust into him softly at first, but you’re quickly emcouraged to go faster by him tugging on your hair and biting at your lips. You whisper to him to calm down but that only makes him more insistent.

You often get distracted during sex, especially when he’s bottoming. His eyes are so pretty you just fall right in. When you nuzzle into his neck and inhale the scent of his hair, you loose yourself. When you kiss and he draws his tongue against your teeth and lips, you find yourself pressing closer and closer, stilling your hips but lapping at his tongue as though his mouth were ambrosia and you, a dying man. He knew you got distracted but he just chalked that up to you being careless. He’d pinch your cheek or arm and pull you back into reality. You feel him pinch your cheek as you reminisce on this.

Anaxa’s body, lithe and curved with little muscle.. you reel back and hold his legs as you begin a steady pace, eager to pleasure him, make him have positive memories to associate with today and this dress. Perhaps if you do a good enough job, he’ll wear it for you again…

[padawan-snack-packer]

"The Beard. The Hair. The Eyes. The Stare. Ezra Bridger: A Man in Crisis (of Love)"

Let’s talk about Ezra Bridger and his very real, very obvious, cosmically devastating case of Heart Eyes Syndrome the second Sabine Wren shows up in Ahsoka.

This man—this SPACE MAN—has not seen his crew in a decade. He’s been in space-Narnia with space turtles and nomad robes and probably hasn’t had a haircut since the fall of the Empire. He has one (1) bathrobe and zero (0) mirrors, and yet when Sabine appears? This man activates. He turns on like someone flipped the “Yearning Jedi” switch to MAXIMUM.

And you know what he does?

THIS, BESTIES!!!!

He smiles. He stares. He BEAMS.

Like full-body radiating "OH THANK THE FORCE SHE'S HERE" energy.

Like “I just saw my soulmate and I need to sit down” energy.

Like Notebook Nicholas Sparks cover art energy but with more dirt and trauma.

Ezra’s literal first words after ten years of exile: “I knew I could count on you.”

NOT “oh my god hey.”

NOT “wow it’s been forever.”

NOT “why are you here.”

No. He looks at her, with the softest eyes a war criminal Jedi exile can possibly have, and says:

“I knew I could count on you.”

SIR.

WHAT KIND OF ROMANCE NOVEL NONSENSE IS THAT??

This is not just a reunion. This is a moment of Biblical proportions. Ezra is standing there, in the middle of his weird nomad village, looking like if Jesus and Aladdin had a sexy Jedi baby, and he sees Sabine like she’s the only person who has ever existed.

Sabine, for her part, is doing the emotional equivalent of buffering. You can see the spinning loading icon behind her eyes. Because Ezra is smiling like it’s still Lothal, like she didn’t just punch through galaxies and trauma and scream-fights with Ahsoka and her own grief just to find him—and he’s just happy to see her.

AND HE NEVER STOPS LOOKING AT HER.

"I can't wait to go home" my bUTT, THIS IS THE FACE OF A MAN WHO IS ALREADY HOME!!!

Oh really, Ezra? CAN'T WAIT TO GO HOME? My BUTT.

Sir, that was the face of a man who is already home. And the “home” in question????

A Mandalorian girlie with purple hair, unresolved rage issues, emotional walls like Fort Knox, and the sharpest cheekbones in the galaxy.

He said “home” but he meant “Sabine Wren.”

He meant her weird sarcastic little smile. He meant her standing there, alive and real, and arguing with him in that voice he hasn’t heard in a decade. He meant her.

The man wasn’t even looking at the Noti village. He wasn’t reminiscing about Lothal. He was LOOKING AT HER. Straight up gazing like she was a particularly majestic sunset and he was trying to memorize every damn shade of lavender in her hair.

And this man has the audacity to say “can’t wait to go home” while making direct, prolonged, “I’d die for you again and then some” eye contact with the literal embodiment of his trust, loyalty, and decade-long faith.

Sir. Be serious. You’re not going home. You’re standing in front of her.

Like he blinks maybe twice in the whole scene and both times it’s probably involuntary.

He does that thing. You know the thing. Where he looks at her face, then her eyes, then smiles again like he just remembered she exists in real life and not just in the corner of his brain where he stores “Reasons To Survive.”

It’s not subtle. It’s not chill. It’s not Jedi-appropriate. It’s SIMP ENERGY.

This isn’t just a guy seeing his friend again. This is a guy seeing the person he hoped and believed would find him, the one person he trusted when he flung himself into hyperspace with no return plan. And when she shows up, he looks at her like:

✨ Of course it’s you. It was always going to be you. ✨

And that’s why the stare matters.

[ageingfangirl2]

Ran's Little Waitress (Tokyo Revengers - Bonten)

RAN HAITANI X FEMALE READER

CHAPTER THREE: SPECIAL EVENT CONT'D

ONE TWO

The crowd had mellowed slightly, drinks hitting that sweet spot between loosened lips and slow, swaggering movement. You were still moving gracefully, tray now lighter with emptied glasses, a few fresh orders pencilled in your notepad.

You didn’t notice the shift at first. The man at Table 3 had been polite all night—older, loaded, and the kind of guest who dropped six-figure tips when the mood struck. But there was something different now in the way he leaned back, arm slung too casually across the plush seat, gaze heavier on you than before.

You deliver his drink with a smile, ‘Your aged bourbon, sir.’

‘Perfect. Just like you,’ he said, eyes raking over you.

You kept your smile polite, ‘thank you. Let me know if you need anything else.’

You turned to go, but a hand caught your wrist—gentle at first, but unwelcome all the same.

‘Don’t rush off,’ he murmured, tone slick, ‘You’ve been running around all night. Sit for a moment. Keep me company.’

‘I’m sorry, I can’t—’

‘I insist,’ he said, grip tightening just enough to make you freeze.

Upstairs – Private Lounge

Ran was mid-conversation with a high-ranking Bonten dealer when his eyes flicked down again—habit now, it seemed. And immediately, he saw it. Your posture. The way your shoulders stiffened just slightly. The man’s hand, too familiar. The tension in the air.

He stood up slowly, ignoring the half-sentence the dealer was still rambling through.

Rindou looked over confused, ‘You good?’

Ran’s jaw flexed, ‘Idiot doesn’t know how to behave.’

Back on the Floor – Seconds Later

The VIP was still smiling, smug and unbothered, ‘you know, you could do better than carrying drinks. A girl like you—’

You flinch slightly when his fingers graze your waist, ‘Sir,’ you say firmly, ‘please don’t touch me.’

‘Or what?’

He didn’t get to finish. A sharp cough echoed behind him. The entire section quieted.

Ran stood behind the man’s chair, one hand tucked neatly into his suit pocket. His expression was unreadable, but his presence was loud.

The man looked up, clearly not used to being the smaller one in a conversation. ‘Haitani-san—’

‘I don’t remember you paying for her time,’ Ran said calmly, ‘You paid for the drinks. You want more than that, go somewhere trashier.’

The man tried to laugh it off, ‘No harm done, right? Just having a little fun—’

Ran leaned down, voice a whisper against the man’s ear, ‘Touch her again, and I’ll make sure no club in this city lets you past the front door.’

The man paled.

Ran straightened and looked at you, ‘You alright?’

You nod quickly, biting the inside of your cheek, but your hand trembled slightly where you clutched the tray.

‘Take a break,’ Ran said quietly, ‘staff lounge. Go.’

You hesitate, then nod again and disappear into the back with your head down.

Ran looked back at the man, ‘Finish your drink and leave.’

The tension broke like a snapped string. Around them, the music resumed, conversations picked back up—but everyone felt it. The warning. The line that had been drawn. And who Ran Haitani just drew it for.

Upstairs Lounge, Later

Ran reentered the private lounge with the same lazy swagger as always, but the other men in the room weren’t buying it.

Rindou was already grinning.

Sanzu leaned back on the couch with a drink in hand, eyes glittering with mischief, ‘So,’ he drawled, ‘how’s your little waitress doing?’

Takeomi raised a brow, sipping his drink, ‘you’ve been down there watching her like a damn hawk all night. You sure she’s just good for business?’

Ran ignored them and sank into the corner of the couch like a bored prince. ‘One of the VIPs crossed a line. That’s bad for business.’

Rindou barked a laugh, ‘yeah, yeah. Bad for business. Not like you were ready to stab the guy through the eye or anything.’

‘You were very quick to jump up,’ Takeomi added, amused, ‘usually takes someone lighting a fire to get you out of your seat.’

Ran gave them a flat look and reached for his glass. ‘I’ve seen idiots ruin a good asset before. I don’t let that happen in my clubs.’

‘Good asset,’ Sanzu repeated with a wild grin, ‘man, just admit she’s cute.’

‘She’s a waitress,’ Ran muttered, though the slight tension in his shoulders gave him away.

Takeomi chuckled, ‘a waitress who makes tips like a damn magician, charms the high rollers, and turns Ran into a bodyguard. What’s she got, fairy dust?’

Rindou leaned in, eyes bright with mischief, ‘You sure you’re not the one tipping extra?’

Ran sipped his drink calmly, unfazed, ‘You lot get attached too easily. I’m just keeping the club running.’

‘Ohhh,’ Sanzu drawled, ‘so it’s responsibility that made you threaten a client tonight. Got it.’

Ran finally glanced over, brow arched, ‘You’d prefer I let her get groped? Maybe let him take her home? That's your vibe, Haruchiyo.’

Sanzu smirked, ‘Tch. Don’t twist my words, lover boy.’

Takeomi just laughed and poured himself another drink. ‘You’re already in denial. It’s only gonna get funnier from here.’

Rindou grinned widely, nudging his brother with his elbow, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll send her a bouquet from you. Real subtle. You want the card to say ‘From Management’ or ‘Your #1 Admirer’?’

Ran didn’t dignify that with a response, but his faint smirk gave him away.

The boys were still riding the high of needling Ran, drinks in hand and no filter in sight.

Sanzu swirled the liquor in his glass like it held answers, watching Ran through narrowed eyes, ‘so…you gonna make a move, or what?’

Ran didn’t even blink, ‘No.’

Sanzu raised a brow, ‘No?’

‘She’s an employee,’ Ran replied, voice smooth but final, ‘we don’t sleep with the staff.’

Koko, seated nearby and checking numbers on his phone, didn’t even look up when he said, ‘That’s rich coming from you. She wouldn’t be the first waitress you’ve slept with.’

Ran’s eyes flicked to him, just for a second, ‘She’s different.’

That was all he said—but it was enough.

Sanzu grinned like a shark. ‘Different, huh? Now that’s interesting.’

‘She’s clean,’ Ran muttered, ‘focused. She works hard. Not like the others.’

Sanzu leaned forward, setting his glass down with a little clink, ‘Alright, then here’s a better question,’ he said, tone now deliberately slow, ‘what if someone else in Bonten made a move on her?’

Ran’s eyes lifted slowly, and the lounge went just a bit quieter. Koko looked up now, curious. Takeomi stifled a knowing smirk. Rindou just leaned back and watched, clearly entertained.

Ran didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. He just stared at Sanzu, expression unreadable but sharp, ‘Then I’d have to remind them,’ he said quietly, ‘that she’s under my protection.’

Sanzu let out a low whistle, ‘not making a move, but already staking a claim. Damn, Ran.’

Ran picked up his drink again, calm as ever, ‘I don’t need to chase her to make sure she’s respected. That’s just business.’

Koko snorted, ‘Funny. Sounds a lot like jealousy to me.’

Ran didn’t deny it. Didn’t agree, either. Just took a slow sip of his drink, eyes drifting back toward the lower floor, where she was returning to her station, shoulders squared, smile steady, still doing her job like nothing had happened.

‘Keep betting on how it ends,’ Ran murmured, more to himself than anyone else, ‘We’ll see who’s right.’

Velvet Vice – Rooftop Balcony, After Closing

The noise had finally died down. Staff were cleaning up, music cut off, the VIPs long gone. A quiet breeze rolled over the rooftop where Ran stood alone, cigarette between his fingers, city lights flickering below him like embers in the dark.

You found him there after searching quietly through the halls—still in your uniform, though your heels were off and your tray was tucked under one arm.

‘Boss?’

Ran didn’t look at you right away, just took another drag and exhaled slowly, ‘You should be heading home.’

You hesitated, then step closer, stopping at a respectful distance, ‘I wanted to apologise for earlier.’

That got his attention. He turned just enough to glance at you over his shoulder, a brow lifted.

‘I should’ve handled it better,’ you continue, voice soft but steady, ‘the VIP. I didn’t mean to make a scene, and I didn’t want to cause you any trouble. I can handle guys like that—I’ve done it before. I just…’ you trail off, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, ‘I lost my footing a little.’

Ran’s gaze didn’t waver.

‘If you need to dock my pay or tips,’ you add, ‘I understand. I wouldn’t blame you.’

For a long moment, there was only the sound of the wind brushing past the ledge. Then Ran flicked the ash off his cigarette and finally turned to face you fully.

‘You think I’d punish you for someone else crossing a line?’

You shrug your shoulders, ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

He stepped closer, not threatening, just enough to make sure you were listening, ‘you did nothing wrong. You handled it how most wouldn’t. You stayed professional. That’s why I hired you.’

Your brows furrow slightly, ‘But I—’

He held up a hand, silencing you, ‘You shouldn’t have to handle creeps like that. That’s my job. My club. My rules.’

Your shoulders relaxed just slightly, but your voice stayed quiet, ‘still. Thank you for stepping in.’

Ran looked down at you for a long beat, unreadable, ‘You’re good at what you do. Don’t let the others twist that into something ugly.’

You nod, biting your lip, ‘I’ll do better. I promise.’

‘You already are,’ he said, turning back to the skyline, ‘go home and get some rest.’

You turn to leave, but pause at the door, ‘…Boss?’

‘Yeah?’

You give him a faint, grateful smile, ‘Thanks for having my back.’

He didn’t smile, not really. But his nod was slower this time. Meaningful. And when you walked away barefoot down the hallway, he didn’t look back. But he didn’t light another cigarette either.

[paxaz535]

The Space Between Us (2, final)

paige bueckers x black!oc

synopsis:

Best friends since childhood, Kamiya and Paige always thought their bond was unbreakable. But when they reunite at the family cabin after years apart, the line between friendship and something more begins to blur. As the tension between them builds, they must face what they’ve always known deep down: they’ve been more than close all along.

(SMUT!)

—————

The next afternoon, the smell of charcoal and sizzling meat filled the air as Jonathan and Bob manned the grill, laughing loudly as they argued over who seasoned the ribs better. A speaker played old-school R&B while the yard slowly filled with more people—old family friends, neighbors, even a few college kids Bob had invited last-minute.

Paige sat on the porch steps with a drink in her hand, legs stretched out, tank top clinging to her from the heat. She was trying to stay chill—but her eyes kept drifting across the yard.

To Kamiya.

Kamiya stood near the folding table, laughing at something Adam said. A boy—tall, light-skinned, full of fake confidence—leaned a little too close to her side, clearly trying to shoot his shot.

“Damn,” Paige muttered under her breath, sipping her drink tighter than she needed to.

“Hey.” A voice broke her thoughts.

She looked up to see a girl—tall, toned, probably a junior at someone’s college—smiling at her.

“You’re Paige, right?” the girl asked, sliding down next to her without waiting for permission.

“Yeah,” Paige said, side-eyeing her cautiously.

“I’ve heard about you. Bob’s always bragging on his daughter,” the girl said with a laugh, tossing her curls over her shoulder. “I play soccer at UConn.”

Of course she does.

“That’s cool,” Paige said, offering a polite smile, but her eyes wandered again—right back to Kamiya.

The boy was still talking, clearly trying to be charming. Kamiya was smiling, nodding politely, but Paige knew that smile. It wasn’t real. It was the one she used when she was uncomfortable but didn’t want to be rude.

Back on the porch, the girl next to Paige inched a little closer. “So… are you seeing anyone?”

Paige didn’t even answer. She stood up suddenly, brushing off her shorts. “I’ll be back.”

⸻

Meanwhile, Kamiya tried to hide her grimace as the boy laughed too loudly at his own joke. He kept touching her arm like they’d known each other forever, and she was so close to making up a fake boyfriend just to escape.

She glanced toward the porch—and there was Paige, staring right at her.

Their eyes met across the lawn. It was only a second, but it hit like a jolt.

Kamiya’s stomach flipped.

Paige started walking toward her, jaw a little tight, eyes fixed on the guy standing too close to Kamiya’s side.

“Hey,” Paige said, sliding in between them with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Mind if I steal her for a sec?”

The boy blinked. “Oh—uh…”

“She’ll be back,” Paige added sweetly, not giving him a chance to argue.

Kamiya blinked, surprised but not mad about it.

Paige tugged her away from the table, down toward the lake trail just far enough to be out of earshot.

“What was that?” Kamiya asked, raising a brow.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Paige shot back, her tone light but loaded. “He was all up on you.”

“I didn’t even want to talk to him,” Kamiya muttered.

“Well, good,” Paige said, brushing a hand through her hair, looking more flustered than she meant to. “Because that girl on the porch? She was practically in my lap.”

Kamiya smirked. “You jealous?”

Paige met her gaze, this time not backing down. “Maybe.”

Kamiya’s heart stuttered.

“I didn’t like seeing you with him,” Paige admitted. “And I don’t want to pretend like I’m okay with anyone else trying to get at you.”

The air grew still again.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Just the breeze brushing past them, warm and charged.

Finally, Kamiya said quietly, “Then don’t pretend.”

Paige’s eyes flicked down to Kamiya’s lips for half a second.

And then—slow burn still crackling—they just stood there, close but not touching, the tension between them thick as smoke rising from the barbecue behind them.

Paige didn’t move. And neither did Kamiya.

They just stood there, eyes locked, the distance between them feeling thinner than air. Paige’s fingers twitched at her side like she wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if she should.

Kamiya’s voice came soft. “You didn’t have to save me, you know.”

Paige let out a breath of a laugh. “I kind of did. He was all in your personal space.”

“He was annoying,” Kamiya admitted, smiling a little. “But I could’ve handled it.”

“I know,” Paige said, eyes still on hers. “You always can.”

Another silence passed—one of those weighty, unsaid silences where everything meaningful is buried just beneath the surface. Then Paige finally pulled back a bit, her body visibly cooling off.

“We should probably go back before your dad thinks we ran off to elope or something.”

Kamiya chuckled, a little breathless. “Right. God forbid.”

They turned slowly, walking side by side back toward the barbecue, the sound of music and laughter growing louder with each step.

But everything felt different now.

Their hands brushed once—just once—and neither of them pulled away.

That night, the cabin had finally quieted down. Most of the guests were gone, the grill covered, the leftover food packed away. Bob and Jonathan were finishing off beers on the back deck, and Drew was knocked out on the couch, mouth open and snoring.

Upstairs, Kamiya couldn’t sleep.

The moonlight spilled through the window of her room, painting silver streaks across the wooden floor. She sat by the sill, knees drawn up to her chest, hoodie zipped up over her tank top.

A soft knock tapped at the door.

She turned. “Yeah?”

The door cracked open. Paige’s face peeked through.

“You up?”

“Clearly.”

Paige smiled and stepped in, closing the door behind her. She was wearing a black tee, her basketball shorts showing legs brushing against the cool floor. Her hair was in two dutch braids, Moe did them earlier.

Kamiya looked at her for a second too long.

Paige walked over, motioning to the spot next to her at the window. “Can I?”

Kamiya nodded. “Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the quiet hum of summer bugs filling the space. Outside, the lake shimmered under the moonlight—still and endless.

“I used to think nothing ever changes up here,” Paige said softly. “Same lake. Same trees. Same old grill Jonathan refuses to replace.”

Kamiya smiled faintly. “You sound like you’re eighty.”

“Maybe I feel like it,” Paige said. Then, quieter, “This summer feels different though.”

Kamiya glanced at her. “Yeah. It does.”

Paige’s fingers tugged at the hem of her shirt. “I keep thinking about what you said earlier. About how it didn’t feel wrong… when I looked at you like that.”

Kamiya’s heart jumped in her chest.

“It didn’t,” she said. “It still doesn’t.”

They looked at each other in the dark, soft light brushing over their faces. Paige’s knee gently bumped Kamiya’s.

“You scare me a little,” Paige said quietly. “In a good way.”

Kamiya blinked. “Why?”

“Because you’re the one person I’ve never been able to just… brush off. And I think you could break my heart without even meaning to.”

Kamiya’s breath caught.

“I wouldn’t want to,” she said.

Paige nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Then don’t.”

They didn’t kiss.

But Paige leaned her head onto Kamiya’s shoulder, and Kamiya let her stay there, her cheek resting lightly against her braids. And for a long time, they just sat in that silence—hearts racing, minds tangled, but safe in the space they made for each other.

Something was happening between them.

And it didn’t need to be said. Not yet.

-

No one knew why—but Kamiya woke up feeling… different.

Not anxious. Not tired. Just—on edge. Her body was warm, her breath a little heavier than usual. She blinked in the low morning light, sheets tangled around her legs, her hoodie slightly askew.

And then she remembered.

Paige had slept in here last night.

Her heart skipped.

That shouldn’t have meant anything—they’d slept in the same bed a million times growing up. But this? This felt different. Kamiya could feel it in the way her skin tingled, in how her stomach fluttered like she was waiting for something to happen.

She looked down.

Paige’s arm was thrown casually around her middle, fingers resting against the curve of her waist. But that wasn’t what had her mind spiraling.

It was Paige’s knee—tucked just a little too close between her thighs. Not quite touching, but close enough that it made her chest tighten.

Get it together, she told herself, squeezing her eyes shut.

She didn’t remember dreaming anything wild. And yet—here she was. Breath shallow. Body tense. Entirely too aware of how close Paige was, how warm her skin felt against her own.

And then Paige shifted in her sleep.

Her knee moved.

Pressed.

Kamiya inhaled sharply, her whole body reacting before her brain could catch up. It wasn’t on purpose—she knew that. Paige was just a cuddler, always had been. But Kamiya’s thoughts were spinning now, and she felt a flush rise to her cheeks.

She had to move. Now. Before her mind went anywhere it shouldn’t.

Carefully, she slipped out from under Paige’s arm, sitting at the edge of the bed with her hands pressed into her lap, staring at the wall.

Her heart was pounding.

This wasn’t just about friendship anymore.

And maybe… it hadn’t been for a while.

-

The rest of the day moved on, but Kamiya barely felt present for most of it.

She helped Moe chop vegetables in the kitchen, nodded along to Drew’s jokes, even played a round of cards with Jonathan and Bob. But in the back of her mind—Paige.

Or more specifically: Paige’s body, Paige’s warmth, Paige’s breath at the back of her neck that morning. That knee.

She hadn’t meant to think about it as much as she had. But every little thing Paige did today—stretching her arms above her head, bending over to grab a drink from the cooler, even laughing too hard at something Moe said—it all felt charged now.

Kamiya caught herself staring more than once.

And every time, her stomach flipped like she was falling from a rooftop.

Paige wasn’t making it any easier either. She was being… normal. Like nothing happened. Like her leg hadn’t practically awakened something deep and dangerous in Kamiya’s body that morning.

But Kamiya wasn’t fine.

She was restless. Distracted. Sitting outside on the deck now with a cold drink in her hand and her thighs squeezed tight, pretending like she wasn’t replaying that moment in bed over and over again.

She let out a low sigh.

“You good?”

Paige’s voice pulled her out of the spiral.

Kamiya turned to find her standing there, plate of fruit in one hand, hair braided back now. She looked… annoyingly good. Like she didn’t know what she was doing to Kamiya’s self-control.

“Yeah,” Kamiya said, too quickly. “Just tired.”

Paige gave her a look. “Liar.”

She sat down beside her, crossing her legs, brushing a knee against Kamiya’s like it meant nothing.

Kamiya flinched slightly.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re good?”

“Mmhm.” Kamiya took a sip of her drink, praying it would cool her off. “Totally fine.”

But she wasn’t.

Because Paige was too close. Her thigh warm. Her perfume soft and sweet in the summer air. Kamiya could feel her heartbeat in her throat.

And the worst part?

She wanted more.

Wanted Paige to touch her again, even if by accident. Wanted to feel that heat again. Wanted to ask for it this time.

But she bit her tongue.

Because if she made the first move… there was no going back.

And part of her still wasn’t sure what Paige would do if she really knew how far Kamiya’s thoughts had gone.

-

Night fell slow and sticky over the lake, the warm air buzzing with leftover laughter and the scent of grilled food.

Most of the group had drifted into the living room for a movie. Moe had taken over the couch, Drew was half-asleep on the floor, and Bob and Jonathan were deep in a debate about whether LeBron or Jordan really was the GOAT.

But Kamiya needed air.

She slipped out the back door and onto the porch, letting the screen shut softly behind her. The sky was a deep navy now, stars scattered across it like glitter someone had thrown in frustration. The lake shimmered like it had a secret.

She leaned against the railing, finally letting herself breathe.

“Knew I’d find you out here,” Paige’s voice came from behind her.

Kamiya turned. Paige stood in the doorway with a hoodie pulled over her head, her arms crossed, cheeks a little flushed from the wine Moe had poured too generously earlier.

“You always disappear when you’re overthinking,” she said, stepping closer.

Kamiya rolled her eyes with a faint smile. “I’m not overthinking.”

“Mmhm. Liar again.”

Paige stopped beside her, looking out at the water too. For a few long seconds, neither of them said a word.

Then Paige whispered, “Are we okay?”

Kamiya blinked. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Paige shrugged. “You’ve been… different. Since this morning.”

And there it was.

Kamiya’s throat dried. Her fingers gripped the wooden rail a little tighter.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “You just… make things hard.”

Paige’s head turned. “Hard how?”

Kamiya hesitated. Every version of the truth sat heavy on her tongue. And yet—

Before she could answer, Paige stepped in closer. The space between them thinned until their shoulders touched. Kamiya didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“You’ve been looking at me different,” Paige said, her voice low. “And I don’t think it’s just me imagining it.”

Kamiya’s breath hitched.

“You’re not imagining it,” she admitted softly. “But I don’t know what to do with it yet.”

Paige nodded slowly, eyes flicking down to Kamiya’s lips for half a second—just enough to send sparks racing through her.

“You don’t have to do anything,” she murmured. “Not until you’re ready.”

Then she leaned in, pressed her forehead gently to Kamiya’s, and stayed there. Just breathing.

It wasn’t a kiss.

But it felt like a promise.

And when Paige finally stepped back, her fingers brushed Kamiya’s—delicate, lingering, like a silent I want you too—before she turned and slipped back inside.

Leaving Kamiya breathless on the porch, wondering how much longer she could hold out.

-

The cabin was quiet.

Everyone had gone to bed hours ago, and Kamiya lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to slow her breathing. But her chest was tight. Her skin buzzed. Her thoughts wouldn’t settle.

Paige was lying next to her again—this time by choice. No accident, no drunken pass-out. Just… mutual, unspoken decision.

And now Kamiya was hyper-aware of every shift Paige made. Every breath. The brush of her thigh against hers under the covers. The warmth of her body so close.

She turned slowly to face her.

Paige was already looking at her.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. It was all there in the silence—the wanting, the curiosity, the hesitation.

Then Paige whispered, “Can I touch you?”

Kamiya’s breath caught. She nodded.

Paige reached out, her fingers gently tracing the curve of Kamiya’s jaw. Her thumb brushed her lip, soft and slow. Kamiya leaned into it, eyes fluttering shut.

And then Paige kissed her.

The moment Paige’s lips met hers, Kamiya forgot how to think.

Everything else—her doubts, the tension, the time they’d lost—faded under the weight of Paige’s kiss. She moaned softly into it, fingers tangling in the fabric of Paige’s shirt like she was afraid she’d disappear.

They broke apart only for air, then Kamiya pulled Paige back in, this time deeper—hungrier.

Hands roamed. Clothes slipped away, one layer at a time, until the covers were pushed down and skin met skin. Paige’s body was warm, soft in all the right places, and when she slid on top of Kamiya, straddling her hips, Kamiya’s breath hitched so hard it left her dizzy.

“Are you sure?” Paige whispered, forehead resting against hers.

Kamiya nodded, voice barely a whisper. “Please.”

Paige leaned down, kissing her again—slow, deep—while her hand slipped between them. Kamiya gasped as Paige cupped her, palm pressing gently over her soaked panties.

“You’re so wet already,” Paige murmured against her mouth.

Kamiya’s cheeks flushed hot, but she didn’t look away. “You did that.”

Paige smiled, then slid her hand beneath the waistband, fingers slipping through heat and slickness. Kamiya’s back arched as Paige touched her—teasing at first, then easing two fingers inside.

Her body trembled.

She clutched the sheets with one hand, the other gripping Paige’s hip as her best friend—no, the girl she wanted, the girl she had always wanted—moved inside her, slow and steady.

“You feel so good,” Paige whispered, kissing the hollow of Kamiya’s throat. “So tight.”

Kamiya whimpered, her hips grinding against Paige’s palm, chasing every wave of pleasure. It built fast. Too fast. She buried her face in Paige’s shoulder, trying to muffle the noises spilling from her lips.

Paige didn’t stop. She moved with her—pressing kisses to Kamiya’s chest, sucking one nipple into her mouth, making her cry out in surprise and want. Her thumb circled Kamiya’s clit now, soft but firm, exactly how she needed it.

“Paige,” she gasped. “I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” Paige breathed. “I want to feel you.”

And Kamiya did—legs trembling, toes curling, a moan ripping through her as her whole body seized and gave in. The climax hit hard, overwhelming and perfect, and Paige held her through it, kissing her like she never wanted to stop.

When Kamiya finally opened her eyes, her limbs limp and heart racing, Paige was watching her—eyes soft, lips swollen.

“You okay?” Paige whispered.

Kamiya gave a breathless, dazed laugh. “Yeah. Just… processing the fact that I want to do that again.”

Paige grinned. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Kamiya wasn’t sure what came over her—but something inside her snapped the moment Paige said, “I’m not done with you yet.”

She’d always let Paige take the lead. She’d always let herself melt under those hands, that voice, that gaze.

But now?

Now she wanted to feel Paige come undone.

Kamiya leaned up, flipping their bodies in one smooth, slow motion until Paige was flat on her back, eyes wide with surprise—and just a hint of excitement.

“You’re not the only one who knows how to take control,” Kamiya whispered, lips brushing Paige’s jaw.

“Oh?” Paige’s voice was breathy, curious, challenged.

Kamiya kissed down her neck, slow and deep, until Paige shivered beneath her. Then, Kamiya pressed her hips forward—grinding down gently against Paige’s thigh. She was still slick from before, panties damp and clinging to her in the most desperate way.

She gasped at the pressure.

So did Paige.

Kamiya did it again—slow, firm—letting the friction roll through her center like heat building in waves.

“You feel that?” Kamiya murmured into Paige’s ear. “That’s what you do to me.”

Paige’s fingers dug into her hips. “Fuck…”

Their bodies moved in rhythm, clothed only in underwear now—Kamiya’s lace barely holding on, Paige’s boxer briefs low on her hips, their heat rubbing together in a dance they both needed.

Kamiya arched her back, rolling her hips harder now, dragging herself across Paige’s thigh, her core pulsing with every stroke. Her hands roamed over Paige’s stomach, her chest, her throat.

“You like this?” Kamiya whispered.

Paige groaned. “Yeah. Don’t stop.”

And she didn’t.

She ground down again and again, breath getting faster, thighs shaking slightly as she chased her second high right there—on top of her best friend, her crush, the girl who made her feel everything all at once.

Paige pulled her down into a kiss—messy, deep, open-mouthed—moaning into it as Kamiya’s movements got faster, sloppier.

They were both so close.

Kamiya could feel Paige trembling under her, rocking up to meet her every thrust, both of them panting like they were drowning in it.

Then—Kamiya let out a sharp gasp, body shuddering, hips stuttering.

She came again, grinding into Paige with one last desperate roll of her hips, clinging to her like she never wanted to let go.

And when she looked down, Paige was staring at her like she was the only thing that had ever mattered.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Paige said, completely breathless.

Kamiya smirked, brushing sweaty curls from her forehead.

“Yeah?” she whispered. “Wait ‘til I really get started.”

Paige was panting beneath her, her chest rising and falling fast, lips parted, skin flushed. Kamiya had never seen her like this—so undone, so quiet, so hungry.

And all because of her.

Kamiya leaned down, lips brushing Paige’s ear. “I want to hear you beg.”

Paige groaned softly, already arching toward her. “Please.”

That was all it took.

Kamiya slid down Paige’s body, kissing along her neck, down her chest, taking her time. She kissed the curve of her breasts, sucked one nipple into her mouth, teased the other with her hand until Paige whimpered under her.

When Kamiya looked up, Paige’s eyes were heavy, full of need, like she was seconds from falling apart again.

“You trust me?” Kamiya whispered.

“Yes,” Paige breathed.

“Good.”

She kissed lower, down Paige’s stomach, over her hips, until she reached the waistband of her briefs. Slowly, she pulled them down—watching Paige the entire time. Watching her squirm. Watching her fall apart before anything even happened.

Paige was soaked.

Kamiya smirked, dragging two fingers through the slick heat, slow and deliberate. Paige gasped, hips jerking slightly.

“You’re so wet,” Kamiya said softly, eyes locked on hers. “And it’s all for me.”

She leaned in, pressing a kiss just above Paige’s clit—gentle, teasing. Then she flattened her tongue and licked a slow stripe all the way up.

Paige choked on a moan.

Kamiya didn’t stop. She sucked her clit into her mouth, slow and focused, one hand keeping Paige’s thighs spread while the other slipped two fingers inside—deep, steady.

Paige cried out.

Her hips bucked, hands flying to Kamiya’s hair, clutching at her, grounding herself. Kamiya set a rhythm—mouth and fingers working together, relentless but patient. She didn’t let up, even when Paige started shaking, begging under her breath.

“Fuck, Kamiya—right there—don’t stop—”

She didn’t.

She took Paige higher and higher until her body arched off the bed, thighs trembling, one last broken moan spilling out before she fell apart completely—coming hard, loud, head thrown back, chest heaving.

Kamiya stayed with her, kissing her through it, letting her ride the wave, fingers slowing only when Paige whimpered from the sensitivity.

When she finally crawled back up, Paige grabbed her face and kissed her—deep, messy, grateful.

“You,” Paige said, breath still shaky, “are dangerous.”

Kamiya smiled. “I know.”

They lay there in the quiet, wrapped in each other.

No questions. No labels. Just them.

And maybe—for now—that was enough.

Their bodies were tangled under the sheets, skin still warm, lips swollen, the taste of each other still lingering. The room was quiet now—just the sound of their breathing, slow and steady.

Kamiya lay with her head on Paige’s chest, fingers tracing soft lines over her stomach. Paige’s arm was around her, thumb rubbing slow, lazy circles on her shoulder.

“Do you think we waited too long?” Paige asked, her voice low, almost nervous.

Kamiya tilted her head, pressing a kiss just below Paige’s collarbone. “Maybe. But if it had happened any earlier, I wouldn’t have been ready.”

Paige nodded slowly. “I think I’ve always wanted you.”

Kamiya smiled. “Yeah?”

“Since we were kids. I just didn’t have the words for it back then.”

There was a long pause. Kamiya listened to Paige’s heartbeat, her own starting to slow. For once, everything felt still. Safe.

“You scared me,” Paige added. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

Kamiya looked up, hand moving to cup Paige’s cheek. “You never lost me. Not even when we stopped talking every day. You were still my person.”

Paige’s eyes softened. “You still are mine.”

And for the first time in a long time, Kamiya let herself believe that was true.

⸻

The sunlight was peeking through the blinds when Kamiya stirred awake. Paige was still asleep beside her, her arm draped over Kamiya’s waist like nothing had changed.

But everything had.

Kamiya sat up slowly, careful not to wake her. Her body was sore in the best way, lips still tingling from all the kisses, but her mind was racing.

What now?

She slipped on a hoodie and padded quietly out of the room. Downstairs, Moe was already up, making coffee, and Drew was half-asleep at the kitchen table, scrolling on his phone.

“Morning,” Moe said, raising an eyebrow. “Sleep good?”

Kamiya didn’t answer right away. Just nodded and grabbed a bottle of water.

Her mind was on Paige—how close they’d been just hours ago, how much they’d crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. And now what? Were they… together? Was it just a moment?

She jumped a little when Paige walked in minutes later, hair messy, hoodie half-zipped, biting her lip as their eyes met.

They didn’t say anything.

That silence? It was thick. Loaded.

Drew looked between them and narrowed his eyes. “…Y’all good?”

“Yep,” Kamiya answered too quickly.

Paige nodded too. “Totally.”

But when Kamiya turned away, she felt Paige’s eyes on her back—like she was trying to figure out what to say, but didn’t know how to start.

And that’s when Kamiya realized: last night was perfect, but this morning? This morning was going to decide everything.

Later that day

The cabin was louder than usual—music playing low from someone’s speaker, the grill sizzling outside, voices echoing from the backyard. But Kamiya was upstairs, in the room they shared, sitting on the edge of the bed, twisting a hair tie between her fingers.

The door creaked open softly behind her.

Paige.

She stepped in, shutting the door gently. “Can we talk?”

Kamiya looked up. Her chest was tight, but she nodded.

Paige came to sit beside her, quiet at first. The silence stretched, but this time, it wasn’t tense—it was waiting.

“I didn’t want this to be awkward,” Paige finally said, voice soft. “But I feel like it is.”

Kamiya gave a dry laugh. “Yeah. Kinda hard not to be awkward after what we did.”

Paige turned toward her. “Do you regret it?”

That question hit harder than it should’ve.

Kamiya met her eyes. “No. God, no. I’ve been wanting you for longer than I even knew.”

Paige’s shoulders relaxed just slightly. “Same.”

A pause.

“But I don’t want it to just be something that happened,” Kamiya continued. “I want it to mean something. I want to know if this—us—if it’s real.”

“It is.” Paige’s voice was firm now. “It’s always been real. I’ve liked you forever. Even when we stopped talking as much… it never went away.”

Kamiya swallowed. “So what are we?”

Paige reached over, taking Kamiya’s hand in hers. “We’re whatever you’re ready for. But I want you. Not just at night. Not just in secret. All the way.”

Kamiya’s heart skipped. That was all she needed to hear.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “Then I’m yours.”

Paige leaned in, kissing her softly—nothing rushed or hungry this time. Just something real. Warm. Safe.

And when they pulled apart, there was no more awkwardness between them.

Just a beginning.

[sturniololuvz]

https://www.tumblr.com/sturniololuvz/782670591180292096/guys-my-inbox-is-empty-i-dont-know-how-to-its

can you do one where y/n is like the type of person who’s like “tough” so she doesn’t rlly express emotions much and bottles them up and say them in her notes app and like cries alone and stuff then one day she left her phone unlocked and matt saw the notes and tells nick and chris and they comfort her and stuff pls?

(based off personal experience 😭)

“The Things She Doesn’t Say”

Y/N wasn’t the type to spill her emotions out loud.

Not because she didn’t feel things — she just didn’t like being vulnerable. Growing up with three brothers, she’d quickly developed a tough exterior. Jokes instead of honesty, sarcasm instead of sadness. The only place she ever really let those feelings breathe was her Notes app.

And no one ever had to know.

Until she forgot to lock her phone.

⸻

It was a regular afternoon, everyone sprawled across the living room while Matt scrolled through his sister’s playlist on her phone. She was in the kitchen grabbing a snack, telling them to “pick something that wasn’t Nick’s terrible EDM.”

He chuckled to himself as he scrolled, waiting for Spotify to load when a notification popped up.

Reminder:

Stop pretending you’re fine. You’re not.

Matt furrowed his brows. It didn’t seem like a typical reminder. Curiosity got the best of him, and before guilt could even register, he tapped into her Notes app.

The first thing that caught his eye was the sheer number of entries.

“I don’t know how to ask for help without feeling like a burden.”

“Why does it feel like everyone would be fine without me?”

“I’m tired of pretending I’m tough when I feel like I’m falling apart.”

Matt’s chest tightened. He scrolled further and saw more—months’ worth of thoughts she’d never spoken. Anxiety about school, feeling overlooked, moments where loneliness drowned her even when she was surrounded by people who loved her.

“Everything ok?” Nick asked from across the couch.

Matt swallowed hard, locking the phone and setting it down.

“Can you guys come here for a sec?” he mumbled, his usual chill demeanor gone.

Chris raised a brow but stood up. “What’s up?”

Matt glanced toward the kitchen. Y/N was laughing to herself as she rummaged through the pantry, completely unaware.

“I just saw something on her phone,” Matt said quietly. “She’s been… holding in a lot of stuff. Like—a lot.”

Nick’s expression shifted immediately, worry replacing confusion. “What do you mean?”

“She’s not okay, dude,” Matt said, keeping his voice low. “She’s been bottling everything up.”

Chris’s jaw clenched, guilt creeping in. “Why didn’t she tell us?”

“We never really give her the space to,” Nick said softly. “She always acts tough, so we just… assumed she was fine.”

The realization hit all of them at once.

She wasn’t fine.

And no one noticed.

⸻

When Y/N walked back into the living room with chips in hand, she froze at the sight of her brothers’ serious faces.

“What?” she asked, an uneasy laugh bubbling up. “Why do you guys look like someone died?”

“Come here for a sec?” Matt said gently.

Her walls went up immediately, fake nonchalance creeping in. “Why? Did Chris finally break something expensive?”

“No,” Chris said softly, shaking his head. “This isn’t about us.”

Nick patted the spot next to him on the couch. “We need to talk about you.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped, her defenses scrambling into place. “I’m fine. Seriously, what’s—”

“We know you’re not,” Matt cut in gently. “I saw the notes on your phone.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The panic hit immediately—her face flushing, her mind already spinning with excuses.

“I—those are just random thoughts,” she muttered, trying to laugh it off. “It’s not a big—”

“It is a big deal,” Chris said, eyes softer than she’d ever seen. “You’re carrying all of that by yourself.”

Her chest tightened as tears pricked her eyes, the weight of everything she hadn’t said crashing over her.

“I didn’t want to bother you guys,” she whispered, voice cracking despite her best efforts. “I didn’t want to feel… weak.”

Matt pulled her into a hug before she could stop the tears from falling.

“Feeling things doesn’t make you weak,” he murmured, rubbing her back. “You don’t have to be tough all the time. Not with us.”

Nick rested a hand on her leg, his usual teasing replaced with concern. “You’ve been taking care of yourself quietly for too long. Let us take care of you for once, yeah?”

Chris leaned into the group hug, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re never a burden—ever. I’m sorry we made you feel like you had to keep it all in.”

Her tears finally slipped free as she buried her face into Matt’s hoodie, the weight she’d been carrying alone for so long crashing down in the safety of her brothers’ arms.

For once, she didn’t have to be “the tough one.”

For once, she let herself be seen.

And they made sure she knew, without a doubt, that they would always be there for her—no matter how loud or quiet her struggles were.

⸻

[arkhamabyssfiles]

Loading FILE...RED_HOOD_MEMORY_14 HELENA WAYNE: AGE, 16 JASON TODD: AGE, 17

The simulation ended, and Jason panted, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“Bravo! You’re getting better at this—even if you weren’t bad to begin with,” A voice called behind him.

Jason turned and had to put his hand up to catch a flying bottle of water.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Alfred sent me away from reading more medical journals…said I needed some air and to stretch my legs.”

“I’m sure he meant to go into the garden or something,” Jason grumbled, passing her.

“I’m sure he did, but I find it much more entertaining to see you train~”

Jason pushed her too near face away with his hand, “Are you some kind of pervert or what?”

Helena laughed loudly, “Yes. I might have become a pervert for you.”

“Cut it out already, Princess. You’re just annoying.” Jason plopped down on the bench in the locker area and winced. His shoulder was still sore from the night before when he and Batman had to face off against the Joker and his fucking awful goons. Jason wasn’t sure whom he detested more, the fucking clown or the twisted dimwits who followed him willingly, even gladly.

“You’re shoulder still hurts?”

“How do you even know I hurt my shoulder?”

“I sometimes sit on the Batcomputer when you guys are out.”

“You seriously like to snoop around, don’t you?”

“I do it while reading.”

“Shouldn’t you take your free time to rest or something?”

“I rest while sitting on the Batchair—it’s very comfy.”

“Hey! No touching!”

“Just let me see your shoulder.”

“No need. It’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

“Maybe, but I can apply some medicine and bandages or cold patches. It’ll alleviate the pain at least.”

“I said there’s no need,” Jason gritted out. He didn’t like being fussed about, especially not by her—it made him jumpy. “I’ve had it much worse.”

Helena suddenly crouched in front of him and, resting her chin in her palms, she looked up at him, “Much worse? How much?”

“None of your business.” Jason looked away.

“You—I know you don’t think much of me because I’ve had a nice, easy life, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I might not understand fully the hardships you’ve gone through, but that doesn’t mean I can’t understand some of it,” Helena said quietly.

Jason returned his gaze to her, “I don’t think you’re stupid—just annoying. But there are some things, Princess, that I’d rather not have someone like you understand, even some of it. It’s enough that I know what it is like.”

Her eyes were so earnest, trying so hard to reach out. “Someone like me? What am I like that I shouldn’t know—?”

Jason almost laughed, and it would have been a sad one if he had let it escape.

“You’re good.”

Her eyes narrowed in honest confusion, “And you’re not?”

Jason paused, his mind paused. How could she believe in him? He tried, he wanted to. But sometimes he was afraid of what he did, what he wanted to do, and what he’d already done.

“There’s a reason why I do this.”

“And it’s because you want to help people in need, and you do. That’s more goodness than most people can boast of. You’ve helped more people than I have.” The worst thing about all this is that she truly believed it, but Jason—he wasn’t so sure, even when a tiny part of him wanted to.

He passed his tongue over his teeth and looked away from her again, “But in the future, you will, when you’re a doctor, your hands will heal. Mine will never do something resembling that.” They would never look eye to eye, even now, when living under the same roof, their worlds were apart.

“That’s fine. Not all help or good actions are the same. You’re a Knight, I’m a Princess. We will help the world in different ways and play to our strengths. You’ll just have to protect me by punching some people while I do the healing part. So don’t worry about it.”

The knot on his chest tightened, but also loosened. He put the tip of his tongue between his fangs and looked at her with a frown, “I’m not worrying—”

“Now!” But she interrupted him and jumped to her feet. “Let me see that shoulder!”

“Paws off, Princess!” Jason growled, but in the end, he could do nothing but give in.

END OF MEMORY... For more FILES check previous entries...

[ahqueinfortunio]

Dimple Trouble — Clayton Keller

It was supposed to be a quiet night out. The Utah Hockey Club had just snagged a solid win, and the team decided to celebrate the only way they knew how: wings, beer, and a corner booth in a dimly lit bar with terrible 2000s rock on shuffle. Clayton Keller was wedged between Logan Cooley and a wall, nursing a beer and trying to ignore the way Cooley kept smirking like he was up to something.

“Dude, why are you staring at me?” Clayton asked, narrowing his eyes.

Cooley leaned back with a grin. “Just thinking how you’re about to get roasted the second one of these girls recognizes you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. No one’s coming up to us,” Clayton said, tipping his bottle toward the relatively low-energy bar crowd. “We’re in Utah, not Arizona. We could probably commit a minor crime and still fly under the radar.”

“You’re famous enough, dimple boy,” said Barrett Hayton from across the booth, catching the tail end of the conversation.

Clayton rolled his eyes just as someone brushed past their table. A woman—maybe mid-20s, effortlessly pretty, clearly on her way back to her group—paused mid-step and glanced at him.

“You know,” she said, half-turning back toward the table, a crooked smile playing on her lips, “you’ve got really cute dimples.”

Clayton froze. The table fell silent for two seconds—just long enough for the moment to sink in—before chaos erupted.

“DIMPL—” Cooley practically yelled before breaking into wheezing laughter.

“Oh my god,” said Hayton, pounding the table. “Kells, are you blushing?”

Clayton definitely was. He felt it crawling up his neck like a rash. The woman just gave a soft, amused shrug, totally unfazed, and wandered off to her group with a wink. She clearly had no idea—or didn’t care—that she’d just handed his teammates a loaded weapon.

“Cute dimples, huh?” Moser chimed in from the end of the table. “Should we start calling you Dimples Keller now?”

“Clayton ‘The Dimple’ Keller,” Cooley corrected, wiping tears from his eyes. “That’s gonna look great on a jersey.”

“Shut up,” Clayton muttered, burying his face in his hands.

“Oh, he’s hiding the dimples! He knows his power!” Barrett howled.

“I hate all of you,” Clayton mumbled, but even he couldn’t help the tiny smile tugging at his lips. A few seconds later, the waitress came by to drop off another round, and Cooley leaned forward with a stage whisper.

“Hey, do you think he has cute dimples?”

Clayton shoved him so hard that Cooley nearly knocked over his beer.

For the rest of the night, every time someone said his name, it was followed by “The Dimple” or “Mr. Dimples” or, at one point, “Captain Cheek Crater.” And every time someone laughed about it, Clayton just sank deeper into his hoodie.

But secretly—deep down, where no one could see—he kind of liked it.

(And he definitely scanned the bar a few more times looking for the woman who started it all.)

_

The night wore on, and the teasing didn’t let up. Every five minutes, someone was bringing it up again, like they were afraid to let the joke die. Clayton endured it with practiced stoicism and a steady flow of beer, his ears still faintly pink from the original compliment.

He tried not to scan the bar again, but his eyes wandered involuntarily. Just a quick glance to the corner booth near the dartboards—yep, there she was. Laughing with her friends, holding a margarita, head tilted back in that way that made it impossible not to notice her.

Cooley caught the glance and grinned like a shark.

“Thinking of going over there, Captain Cheek Crater?” he whispered.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying,” Cooley said innocently, “it’s not every day you get a real compliment that isn’t from a drunk middle-aged guy in a Keller jersey.”

“Do it,” Barrett added from across the table. “Grow a pair, Dimple Boy.”

So of course, that was the moment the woman looked over again. Their eyes met. And she smiled. Not a polite, forgettable bar smile—but something knowing. Something teasing. And Clayton—despite every cell in his body screaming don’t make this worse—got up.

The table erupted in scandalized gasps and dramatic cheers like he was about to walk into a WWE ring. He gave them the finger without turning around and made his way through the crowded bar to her booth.

She saw him coming and subtly straightened up, her brows lifting just a bit. When he got to her side, he rubbed the back of his neck and gave a sheepish smile.

“Hey. Um… so. I’m Clayton.”

“I know,” she said, grinning. “Dimple Boy.”

He groaned. “They’ve infected you too?”

“They were very loud,” she teased, lifting her drink. “And to be fair, you do have great dimples.”

He chuckled, cheeks predictably dimpling again. “You’re gonna make me regret coming over here.”

“You regret it?”

“No,” he admitted. “But if you call me Captain Cheek Crater, I might actually die on the spot.”

“I’ll save that for date two.”

That stopped him in his tracks. He blinked. “Wait—was that a date offer?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Only if you’re brave enough to ask.”

Clayton looked back over his shoulder—his entire table was watching, some leaning so far out of the booth they were practically horizontal. Cooley gave him two thumbs up and an obnoxiously exaggerated kissy face.

He turned back to her. “Okay then. Would you… wanna go out sometime? Preferably somewhere less dimples-focused?”

She laughed, warm and real. “I’d love to, Dimple Boy.”

A week later, they went out for sushi, and when the waitress asked if they’d been there before, the girl leaned over and whispered, “Don’t let him smile too hard—his dimples might swallow the table.”

Clayton turned scarlet.

And he never lived it down.

Not from his teammates.

Not from her.

And, if he was being honest, he didn’t really want to.

[themintman]

Please share the Sims I would be so gracious 🙏

erm I wasn't sure if you meant post them to Tumblr or actually make the Sims public so imma do both.

They definitely aren't perfect but I tried my best!!

And, ofc, here is my account so you can find them. Sorry for the keyboard smash name this is my dad's account from like seven years ago I'm trying to change it 😭

the title is just "Jack and Nurm"

Uhh I used stuff from the packs below, idk if it'll let you download them without these but if it does just change the missing traits/clothes:

Island living

Cats & dogs

Realm of Magic

Holiday celebration

Erm so like yeah!! If anything is inaccurate or you think something would work better feel free to change it! I tried to make them accurate to how I see them, but tbf I do sometimes mix up headcannon and cannon, misinterpret stuff etc, plus it was tricky trying to decide on aspirations n such, there's no "legendary adventurer" or "cartography" themed traits to my knowledge lmao