#they did win all the battles that night | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

won4kiss · 2 months ago

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﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────UH OH, I’M FALLING IN LOVE.

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

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

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

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

୨୧ WORD COUNT. 10,283 | 10.2K

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

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

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

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

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

he was your biggest rival—had been since childhood.

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

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

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

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

and it didn’t help that you were neighbors.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

then, one morning, everything changed.

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

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

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

heeseung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and that’s when he turned his head.

he caught you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

or… was it something else entirely?

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

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

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

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

in the days that followed, things got even weirder.

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

the mean remarks, the casual taunts—gone.

instead, he’d been acting almost… considerate?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he was just sitting there, minding his own business.

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

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

in the hallways, heeseung started greeting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nearly choked on your drink. “what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it felt like you were disappearing from his world.

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

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

you had always prided yourself on your confidence.

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

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

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

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

it had everything to do with haerin.

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

they were so casual with each other, so comfortable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then came the final straw.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it was haerin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hey, what’s going on here?”

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

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

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

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

you watched in disbelief as heeseung’s expression softened.

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

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

your heart sank.

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

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

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

“you’re seriously overreacting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

then, there was a soft knock on the door.

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

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

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

“hey… are you okay?”

jake sim?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“haerin. she did it on purpose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

jake chuckled softly. “is it that surprising?”

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

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

you raised an eyebrow, surprised. “admired?”

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

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

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

something you hadn’t even realized about yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and, of course, heeseung noticed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your eyes locked for a moment.

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

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

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

you hesitated, unsure of what he wanted.

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

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

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

“what do you want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

heeseung’s hand ran through his hair in frustration.

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

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

“why does it matter?” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. “what, you’re allowed to spend all your time with haerin, but i can’t hang out with jake?”

heeseung winced at the mention of haerin, but he didn’t back down.

“that’s not what this is about—“

“then what is it about?” you shot back, your voice rising with frustration. “because from where i’m standing, it seems like you’re just jealous.”

heeseung’s eyes widened slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to say it out loud. “jealous? of jake?”

“yeah,” you said, glaring at him. “you have no right to question who i spend time with. especially after what you did.”

his brows furrowed in confusion. “what are you talking about?”

“the cafeteria, heeseung!” you practically shouted, the hurt finally spilling over.

“you took haerin’s side, you embarrassed me in front of everyone, and you didn’t even bother to hear me out! and now, you’re mad because i’ve been hanging out with jake? after you made it pretty clear you don’t care about me at all?”

the words came out harsher than you intended, but once they were out, there was no taking them back.

the raw truth of how much heeseung had hurt you was now laid bare between the two of you, hanging in the air like a thick fog.

heeseung’s expression crumpled. for a moment, he looked utterly lost, his eyes wide with regret and something close to panic.

“i—” he opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes darting away from yours. “i didn’t know. i didn’t realize…”

you let out a bitter laugh, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“of course you didn’t heeseung, you’ve been too busy with haerin to notice.”

heeseung’s face twisted with frustration. “it’s not like that with her.”

“really? because it sure seems like it.” your voice was trembling now, the emotional weight of everything threatening to crush you.

“you’re always with her. you don’t even look at me anymore. and when you did have the chance to stand up for me, you didn’t. you humiliated me, heeseung. and you didn’t care.”

the words hit him like a slap. you could see it in the way his eyes widened, how his hands balled into fists at his sides.

heeseung took a step closer to the window, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “you think i didn’t care?”

you stayed silent, your heart pounding in your chest.

heeseung’s jaw clenched, and then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “i’ve been an idiot. i know that now.” his eyes were locked on yours, and for the first time, you could see the depth of his regret.

“you’re right. i didn’t stand up for you, and i should have. i hurt you, and i hate that i did. but it’s because…”

he hesitated, the words catching in his throat.

“it’s because i’ve been trying so hard to ignore how i feel about you,” he finally confessed, his voice thick with anxiety.

“i’ve spent so long thinking of you as my friend—then my rival and enemy, as someone i had to beat, that i didn’t realize… i didn’t want to admit that it was more than that.”

your breath caught in your throat.

“i’ve been feeling odd—weird around you for a long time,” heeseung continued, his voice cracking slightly.

“but i didn’t know how to deal with it. i pushed you away, acted like a jerk because i was scared. and then haerin showed up, and i thought if i focused on her, maybe i could forget about you—get rid of this feeling, but i couldn’t.”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall.

you wanted to be angry, wanted to hold on to that hurt and betrayal, but hearing heeseung’s voice crack with vulnerability made it harder.

his words, the way he looked at you, made you feel things you had been trying to deny for so long.

“but why didn’t you defend me?” you asked, your voice breaking.

heeseung’s expression crumpled. “i don’t know,” he whispered. “i was stupid. i thought if i stayed out of it, it would just go away. but it didn’t. and now i’ve ruined everything.”

you stared at him for a long moment, your heart aching with the weight of it all.

heeseung was standing there, tears welling in his own eyes, and for the first time in all the years you’d known him, he looked completely vulnerable.

“i don’t know if i can forgive you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “not right now.”

heeseung nodded, his lips pressed tightly together as he swallowed hard.

“i understand,” he said softly. “but please… don’t shut me out.”

without another word, you shut your window, turning your back on him and collapsing onto your bed, emotions swirling inside you.

even though you had closed the window on him, part of you still wanted to reach out.

the next morning, you woke up feeling emotionally drained.

the conversation with heeseung played over and over in your mind like a broken record player, his voice echoing in your head, repeating those words.

“i’ve liked you for a long time.”—you had wanted to be angry, to stay angry, but now, all you felt was confusion.

did it even matter? he’d hurt you, after all.

that should’ve been enough to keep the walls you’d built between the two of you intact.

but something inside you had softened at seeing him so vulnerable, so broken.

you’d seen a side of him you weren’t sure anyone else had ever seen.

as you made your way to school, you told yourself that things would go back to normal.

you’d ignore heeseung like you always did, keep your distance, and focus on the things that mattered—your studies, your friendship with jake, anything but heeseung.

but the moment you walked into the classroom, all of that went out the window.

there, sitting on your desk, was a small carton of strawberry milk—your favorite.

you stopped in your tracks, blinking in confusion—the bright pink carton stood out against the plain wooden surface of your desk, and for a moment, you thought it had to be some kind of mistake.

but then you saw it— a folded note tucked underneath the carton.

with cautious fingers, you reached for the note and unfolded it. the handwriting was familiar, neat and precise.

“i’m sorry.”

that was it—no explanation, no signature, but you didn’t need one.

you knew exactly who it was from. your heart gave an involuntary flutter, and you quickly stuffed the note into your bag before anyone could see it.

your eyes darted to heeseung’s seat across the room.

he was already there, sitting with his head resting on his hand, staring at the window as if he hadn’t just left a peace offering on your desk.

he didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge you, but you could feel the tension radiating off him, like he was waiting for you to react.

you bit your lip, unsure of what to do—you wanted to stay mad at him, wanted to cling to the hurt and anger from yesterday, but this… this small gesture of apology tugged at something deep inside you.

heeseung wasn’t one to apologize easily. you knew that. he was proud, stubborn, and always had to win. but this? this was different. it wasn’t much, but it was something.

before you could figure out how to feel about it, the bell rang, and the classroom began to fill with students.

you slid into your seat, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest as the day began.

over the next few days, it became a pattern.

every morning, when you arrived at school, there was something waiting for you on your desk—a carton of strawberry milk, a small packet of your favorite snacks, even a neatly folded handkerchief after gym class when you’d been sweating.

each gift came with the same simple note—“i’m sorry.”

it was starting to drive you crazy.

heeseung didn’t say a word to you during class, didn’t try to talk to you between periods, but his quiet gestures of apology were impossible to ignore.

the other students had started to notice too, whispering to each other whenever they saw the latest offering on your desk.

“what’s going on with you and heeseung?” mina asked one day at lunch, her eyebrows raised in suspicion. “he’s been acting so… weird lately.”

you shrugged, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “i don’t know. he’s just… apologizing, i guess.”

mina’s eyes widened. “apologizing? for what?”

you hesitated, unsure of how much to tell her—mina didn’t know about the confrontation in the cafeteria, didn’t know how much heeseung’s words had hurt you.

and honestly, you didn’t feel like reliving it. so instead, you just sighed. “it’s complicated.”

mina gave you a look, clearly not satisfied with your vague answer, but thankfully she didn’t push it.

instead, she glanced over at jake, who had been sitting quietly beside you, picking at his food.

“what do you think about all this?” she asked, nudging him playfully. “you and heeseung have always been rivals too, right?”

jake glanced up, his expression thoughtful “yeah, we’re rivals on the court,” he said, his voice casual. “but i don’t really care about that. if he’s apologizing, maybe he’s finally realized he messed up.”

you looked over at jake, feeling a wave of gratitude for his support.

he had been there for you when you needed someone, and now, more than ever, you appreciated his calm, steady presence.

he didn’t make a big deal out of the situation, didn’t push you to confront heeseung before you were ready. he just… understood.

jake caught your eye and smiled, and for a moment, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

but of course, that peace didn’t last long.

later that afternoon, as you were walking through the hall with jake, laughing at one of his dumb jokes, you felt someone grab your wrist.

you stopped, your laughter dying on your lips as you turned to see heeseung standing there, his grip firm but not painful.

his eyes were intense, his jaw set in determination.

“come with me,” he muttered, his voice low and urgent.

you blinked, confused. “what? where—”

“just… come on.” heeseung didn’t give you a chance to argue. he tugged you along, pulling you toward the stairwell that led up to the rooftop.

jake called after you, his voice tinged with concern, but you were already too far down the hall to stop.

your heart pounded in your chest as heeseung led you up the stairs, the quiet intensity of the moment making your head spin.

when you finally reached the rooftop, he let go of your wrist and turned to face you, his expression conflicted, like he didn’t know whether to yell or beg for your forgiveness.

“what are you doing, heeseung?” you asked, your voice shaky with confusion and anger.

“i need to talk to you,” he said, his voice quiet but desperate. “about everything.”

the rooftop was quiet, other than the soft rustling of the wind and the distant chatter of the school below.

you stood there, facing heeseung, your heart pounding in your chest.

the tension between the two of you was thick, and the silence stretched on, filled with the weight of everything unsaid.

“what are we doing here?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

you were still reeling from the suddenness of it all—one moment you’d been laughing with jake, and the next, heeseung was dragging you up here like something urgent was at stake.

heeseung ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face.

“i needed to get you away from him,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

“from jake?” you asked in bewilderment, your anger flaring up again. “what does jake have to do with this?”

heeseung finally looked at you, his eyes dark and intense. “everything. he’s—he’s not the one you should be with.”

you stared at him, stunned. “excuse me? what gives you the right to say that?”

“i know,” heeseung said quickly, holding up his hands in a gesture that almost seemed like surrender.

“i know i don’t have the right. but i can’t stand watching you with him any longer.”

your chest tightened as his words hung in the air—you didn’t know what to say.

part of you wanted to snap back, to tell him that he had no business being jealous after what he did.

but the other part of you— the part that had been waiting for him to say something—was finally starting to understand.

heeseung’s voice softened, and he took a small step closer to you. “even if we’re enemies, even if we’ve always been rivals, i would never side with jake. i would never choose someone over you.”

you blinked, your mind racing. his words made no sense. “then why didn’t you defend me in the cafeteria?” your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded, but the hurt was still there, sharp and raw.

heeseung flinched at the question, his jaw tightening. “i told you— i don’t know,” he sighed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“it was stupid. i didn’t realize how much i was hurting you. and when i saw you with jake…”

he trailed off, his eyes searching yours, desperate for you to understand what he was struggling to say.

“when you saw me with jake, what?” you pushed, your voice quieter now, the anger fading away into something softer.

heeseung swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours.

“when i saw you with him, i realized how much i messed up. i realized that i was losing you, and i didn’t know what to do.” he took another step closer, his eyes filled with regret.

“i’ve been trying to ignore it for so long—these feelings i have for you. but i can’t anymore.”

your breath hitched at his confession, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

heeseung, the person you’d spent your entire life competing with, the person who had always been rude and cocky, was standing in front of you, confessing that he liked you?

“feelings?” you echoed, your voice barely audible.

heeseung nodded, his expression raw and vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before.

“yeah. i’ve liked you for a long time, but i didn’t know how to handle it. so i pushed you away. i made everything about our rivalry because i didn’t know what else to do.”

his words hit you like a wave, crashing over you and leaving you breathless.

you didn’t know how to process it, didn’t know how to reconcile the heeseung you’d always known with the one standing in front of you now, baring his soul.

“i hurt you,” heeseung continued, his voice trembling slightly. “and i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. but i can’t stand the thought of you being with someone else. i don’t want to be your rival anymore. i don’t want to lose you.”

you stared at him, your heart pounding, your mind racing with thoughts.

this was everything you’d been trying to ignore, everything you’d pushed aside because you didn’t want to acknowledge the feelings that had been building up between you.

but now, standing here, with heeseung looking at you like he was afraid you were going to slip away, you couldn’t deny it any longer.

“i…” your voice faltered, your throat tight with emotion. “you’re an idiot.”

heeseung blinked, startled. “what?”

“you’re an idiot,” you repeated, shaking your head as a small, incredulous laugh escaped your lips.

“you spent all this time pushing me away when you could have just told me the truth earlier.”

heeseung opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, you closed the distance between you in one fast motion, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down into a kiss.

for a second, heeseung froze, clearly shocked by your sudden move.

but then, he kissed you back, his hands coming up to gently cup your face.

the kiss was soft, slow at first, but it quickly deepened as all the tension between you melted away.

it was like everything you’d been holding back, all the unspoken words, all the bottled-up emotions, were finally being released in that moment.

heeseung’s lips were warm and gentle, and he kissed you like he’d been wanting to for a long time—slowly, sweetly, as if he didn’t want the moment to end.

your heart raced in your chest, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you poured all of your frustration, confusion, and affection, into the kiss.

when you finally pulled away, breathless, you stared up at him, your cheeks flushed and your heart pounding.

heeseung’s eyes were wide with surprise, but there was a small, almost dazed smile tugging at his lips.

“i… i didn’t expect that,” he whispered, his voice shaky.

you smiled, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over you. “you’re such an idiot,” you said again, but this time, there was no bite to your words—just warmth.

heeseung let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “yeah,” he agreed, his voice thick with emotion. “i am.”

without thinking, you kissed him again, softer this time, more sure of yourself.

and as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, you realized that this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

the next day at school, everything felt different. it was subtle at first—a kind of quiet shift in the air that made you hyper-aware of heeseung’s presence the moment you walked into the classroom.

you weren’t used to this—the ease, the softness that seemed to have settled between you overnight.

after years of rivalry, the shift from enemies to something more felt almost surreal.

but then you saw him—heeseung sitting at his desk, already glancing over at you the second you stepped through the door.

his usual smirk was gone, replaced by a small, almost shy smile, and it sent a warm flutter through your chest.

you smiled back, the tension from the day before melting away as he held your gaze for just a moment longer than usual.

it was like the rivalry had evaporated overnight, leaving something softer in its place. and yet, the familiarity of your banter remained.

you slid into your seat, feeling a little lighter than you had in weeks.

there was no strawberry milk waiting on your desk this time, no snacks or apology notes, but the absence didn’t bother you.

the fact that heeseung had taken the time to talk to you, to open up the way he had, was more than enough.

still, you couldn’t help but notice that people were whispering.

it wasn’t loud or obvious, but every so often, you’d catch someone glancing your way, their eyebrows raised in curiosity.

mina, of course, was the first to bring it up.

“what’s going on with you and heeseung?” she asked as soon as you sat down for lunch.

her eyes were gleaming with excitement, clearly having picked up on the shift in dynamics. “you two are acting so different!”

you shrugged, trying to play it off as casually as you could. “we talked. that’s all.”

mina narrowed her eyes. “you talked? come on, you can’t tell me something didn’t happen. you guys have been enemies for, like, forever, and suddenly you’re all… smiley. it’s weird.”

you felt your cheeks heat up, and you looked down at your tray, trying to hide the small grin tugging at the corners of your lips. “it’s complicated.”

before mina could press you further, someone else slid into the seat next to you.

you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was—jake, with his usual easygoing smile and relaxed posture, leaned back in his chair as if he owned the place.

“so, you and heeseung, huh?” jake asked, his tone teasing.

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “not you too.”

jake chuckled, nudging you with his elbow. “hey, i’m just happy for you. i mean, after everything that happened… well, it’s nice to see you smile again.”

you peeked at him from between your fingers, grateful for his kindness.

jake had been there for you when you needed someone, and you’d grown closer over the past few weeks.

but now, things were different, and while you appreciated his friendship, you couldn’t deny the new fluttering feeling that came with thinking about heeseung.

still, you couldn’t resist teasing jake a little. “you’re not jealous, are you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

jake laughed, shaking his head. “nah, i could never compete with heeseung. that guy’s got it bad for you.”

the teasing tone in his voice made your cheeks flush, and you were about to reply when someone cleared their throat behind you.

you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was—the shift in the air—the quiet intensity—was unmistakable.

heeseung stood there, his gaze flickering between you and jake, his jaw clenched slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“what’s going on here?” he asked, his voice casual but with an underlying edge of jealousy.

jake grinned up at him, completely unfazed by the tension. “just talking, man. relax.”

heeseung didn’t move, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “right. well, we’ve got plans after school, don’t we?” his tone was directed at you now, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight possessiveness in his voice.

you blinked, caught off guard. “plans?”

heeseung’s lips quirked up into a small smile, his eyes locking onto yours with a look of softness that made your heart race. “yeah. walking home together, remember?”

you tried not to smile too widely, but it was impossible to hide the way your heart fluttered at his words.

jake, ever the instigator, raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

“oh, so it’s like that now?” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “guess i’ll have to find someone else to walk home with.”

heeseung shot him a look that was almost a glare, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. “yeah, you will.”

you rolled your eyes, though a small giggle escaped your lips. “heeseung, you’re being ridiculous.”

heeseung leaned down, resting one hand on the back of your chair as he looked down at you with a grin.

“maybe,” he admitted, his voice softer now, “but i don’t like sharing.”

the possessiveness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, but instead of feeling annoyed, you found it… oddly endearing.

you nudged him lightly. “you’re such a child.”

heeseung chuckled, the sound low and warm, before he straightened up, glancing once more at jake. “you’ll be fine without her, right?”

jake waved him off, laughing. “i’ll survive, don’t worry.”

just as you were about to stand up and leave with heeseung, a voice interrupted the playful atmosphere, slicing through the lightheartedness like a cold breeze.

“heeseung.”

you looked up to see haerin standing a few feet away, her expression unreadable, but there was something in her eyes that made your stomach twist.

she glanced between you and heeseung, her lips pressed into a thin line before she focused on him. “can we talk? alone.”

heeseung’s body tensed beside you, but instead of acknowledging her request, he tightened his grip on the back of your chair, his attention still fixed on you.

“no, i’m good,” heeseung said flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

haerin blinked, clearly not expecting the rejection. “i just wanted to—”

“i’m with someone right now,” heeseung cut her off, his voice firm but calm. “and i’d appreciate it if you left us alone.”

the sting of his words was evident in haerin’s eyes, but she didn’t argue.

after a moment, she let out a quiet scoff and walked away, her shoulders tense as she disappeared into the crowd.

you stared at heeseung, surprised by how easily he had brushed her off.

heeseung, who had spent so much time with her recently, was now acting like she didn’t even exist.

“was that necessary?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

heeseung shrugged, his expression softening as he looked at you. “what can i say? i’m done with all the games.”

you felt a warmth spread through your chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but smile.

the possessiveness, the way heeseung had stood by your side without hesitation—it all made you realize just how much had changed between you two.

as the day went on, the whispers and curious glances from your classmates only grew louder.

everyone seemed to be talking about you and heeseung, but you didn’t mind.

in fact, you kind of liked it. for once, the focus wasn’t on your rivalry—it was on something else, something sweeter.

at the end of the day, as promised, heeseung was waiting for you by the school gates.

you spotted him leaning casually against the fence, his hands stuffed in his pockets, but the moment he saw you, his face lit up with that soft smile that made your heart race.

“ready to go?” he asked, falling into step beside you as you started walking together.

you nodded, glancing up at him. “you know everyone’s talking about us, right?”

heeseung chuckled, shrugging. “let them talk.”

you rolled your eyes, but there was a lightness to your steps as you walked side by side.

it felt easy, natural—like this was how things were always supposed to be.

and for the first time in a long time, the space between you and heeseung wasn’t filled with tension or competition.

it was filled with something warmer, something that made your heart feel full.

as you walked, you noticed heeseung’s hand brush against yours, and before you could stop yourself, you reached out and intertwined your fingers with his.

heeseung glanced down at your hands, a look of surprise crossing his face before his smile widened, his grip tightening around yours.

neither of you said anything for a few minutes, just enjoying the silence and the feeling of walking together.

but eventually, you cleared your throat, glancing up at him with a teasing smile.

“so… are we, like, official now?”

heeseung slowed his pace, looking down at you with an amused grin. “official?”

“you know what i mean,” you said, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “boyfriend and girlfriend.”

heeseung’s expression softened at your words, and he stopped walking, turning to face you fully.

he gently cupped your face with one hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

“yeah,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. “i want us to be official. if you do, too.”

your heart swelled at the tenderness in his eyes, and you felt a soft smile spread across your lips. “i do.”

heeseung’s eyes sparkled with something like relief and joy, and before you could say anything else, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

it was slow, gentle, and filled with all the unspoken promises of this new chapter you were beginning together.

when he pulled back, you were both smiling, a quiet warmth settling between you.

“good,” heeseung murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. “because i’m not letting you go.”

you laughed softly, your heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. “i’m not going anywhere.”

with that, the two of you continued walking home, hand in hand, your steps perfectly in sync.

and as the sun shimmered down lower in the sky, you knew that this was the start of something beautiful—something that had been building for far longer than either of you had realized.

heeseung was no longer just your rival—he was your boyfriend.

and honestly? it felt perfect.

❝ PLEASE REBLoG AND LiKE .ᐟㅤ 💌

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gguk-n · 28 days ago

Note

hey could you maybe write a lando x reader where when it was clear that lando lost the championship the reader just comforts him but he is distancing himself from her but she doesn’t give up on him so pls a happy end ❤️

established relationship, not very angsty, short

My World Champion

Things had been rough between the pair for a few months. With the mounting pressure on Lando to perform had left him pushing all those close to him away. He wasn't very happy with it but he felt like maybe he could focus better. The person who had to deal with the brunt of Lando's distance was his girlfriend, Y/N. They'd been together for a while and friends for longer. They just got each other like no other but lately Y/N felt like she didn't know Lando as well as she used to.

Y/N did try to bring up the distance. It was Azerbaijan, "Lan, don't you think we barely talk" Y/N spoke slowly, trying to start a conversation with her boyfriend who was sat across from her on the sofa. He didn't bother to even look up, "What's there to talk about when I'm busy trying to win a championship. Let me focus" he huffed. "I didn't mean it like that. I just thought we could spend some time together" Y/N trailed off. "We are sat together right now. How much more time do you want to spend with me?" Lando sighed and finally looked up from his laptop. "I just" she felt her voice die in her throat. 'I don't remember the last time we kissed Lan' her brain thought as she got up and left the room before another fight ensued.

It was during the winter break when things were starting to look up. Lando had just won the Singapore GP, he was more attentive and present; they even cuddled the whole day. Y/N thought that she had her boyfriend back. Oh how wrong she was because as soon as they were back on track; Lando was back to square one. The Austin loss hit deep, making Lando double down on strategising and spending every waking hour with the team or thinking about Formula One. It was like he forgot Y/N existed or for that matter himself. She would sit there and stare at her boyfriend who looked more and more like a stranger with each passing day.

Things had become rocky between them. She felt the divide growing with each passing weekend. Mexico wasn't any better. But Brazil landed a huge blow to Lando. He shut down, he stopped talking to anyone and spent all his time scrolling on his phone. There was nothing she could do without Lando walking out or shutting the door on her face. So, she sat and waited. She would cook his favourite food or leave out his favourite snacks to munch on. But she didn't make much break through on him; as he still chooses to stay reserved, opting to carry the burden alone.

It was after the Las Vegas quali, when Y/N noticed the light begin leave Lando's eyes. All she could offer were words and cuddles but Lando had put up a wall between them. The bed seemed too big for the two of them with either on each side. She stared at the space in between them wondering when it had gotten this big.

After the race, Y/N sighed a sigh of relief. The Championship battle was over and that meant she got her Lando back. She saw glimpses of him when he congratulated Max and couldn't wait to jump into his arms. But it was like Lando was back, just not for her.

That night, they spent it like any other, on either side of the bed. But as Y/N tried to fall asleep, she felt the bed shake. On further inspection, she saw Lando's frame quietly shaking from the sobs as he tried to not make any noise. Her heart hurt watching him, she slowly scooted over causing Lando to stop crying for a moment. She wrapped her arm around his torso and buried her head in his neck. "I love you, my world champion" she whispered causing Lando to turn around. His face was streaked with tears which she carefully wiped off. "I don't like it when you cry" she muttered and pecked his lips. "I thought you fell asleep" Lando mumbled. "Can't sleep without my cuddles" she quipped. "But, I'm not the world champion" was all he muttered, remembering her first comment. "For the world, no. For me, always" she smiled. Lando searched her eyes for anything, but all he found was undeterred love. "And you're not angry?" he asked. "No. I'm happy to watch you compete for the championship because I know, sooner or later you'll win it. Just waiting for that day" she reassured. "I'm sorry for being a dick. I was just" Lando spoke before she cut him off, "over whelmed. I know. But you didn't have to do it all alone. What am I here for?" she spoke tenderly. "I love you" he whispered kissing her for the first time in a long time. "I love you too, muppet" she whispered back. He looked at her for a long time as his hands pulled her closer, running along her frame; "What would I do without you?" he asked. "Crash and burn" she chided. "Agreed" he mumbled pulling her in for another kiss. "You alway know how to make me happy" he mumbled in between kisses. "Only when you listen to me. Otherwise you're Mr Grumpy" she chuckled. "I promise not to be Mr Grumpy anymore" he laughed kissing her again. "Next time I'm grumpy, kiss me. I think all my worries melt away with your kisses" he said pressing her against him. "So, the next time you start an argument, I'm gonna kiss you" she said cupping his cheeks. "Best way to end an argument" he smiled pressing their foreheads together. "I won't disagree" she kissed him again, making up for all the lost time.

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bueckets · 20 days ago

Text

The Hit List | Part 1

Pairing: fuckgirl!Paige x Mechi Student!reader

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

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

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

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

WC: 11.2k

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

Chapter 1: The Unexpected Guest

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s literally ridiculous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking hell.

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

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

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

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

Yeeeaaah, definitely the messy one.

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

"Can you even fit anything in there?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tay, please—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy hell. Get a fucking grip.

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

Plan B it is.

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

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

You closed the door.

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah.

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

You better get an A on that fucking project.

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

Shit. How are you going to pull it out?

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

It's not budging.

In and out. Breathe.

You tugged again.

Something thudded against the floor.

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

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

She was smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

Taylor, I'm so sorry.

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

You needed your phone. Pronto.

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

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

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

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

FUCK.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL!"

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

"Why is Paige Bueckers in your bed?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. Stop fucking thinking about it.

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

"What's that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your head shot up. "How did you—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's fine," you managed, trying to ignore how the hot coffee was currently seeping through your shirt. At least it wasn't your engineering hoodie—Riven would've killed you if you'd ruined her carefully planned outfit for tomorrow.

She was already pulling napkins from her pocket, dabbing at your shirt with a look of genuine distress. "Let me buy you a new coffee. And shirt," she added, eyeing the growing stain.

"Really, it's fine." You stepped back, ready to bolt. The last thing you needed was another interaction with a basketball player.

But she wasn't letting you off that easy. She grabbed your wrist with surprising gentleness for someone known for her aggressive defense. “Nah, I insist. I'm Nika, by the way. And I really do feel terrible about this."

Before you could protest further, she was steering you back into the coffee shop. The barista's eyes widened slightly at the sight of Nika—clearly a regular customer—but otherwise maintained their professional composure.

"The usual for me," Nika called out, "and whatever she wants." She turned to you expectantly.

You mumbled your name and order—"Just a black coffee"—trying to shrink into yourself. Several students were openly staring now, probably wondering why Nika Mühl was buying coffee for some random engineering student.

"And a chocolate croissant," Nika added, ignoring your attempt to protest. "Trust me, they're amazing here."

You shifted uncomfortably as she paid, very aware of the wet fabric clinging to your skin. Nika seemed to notice your discomfort because she shrugged off her UConn warmup jacket and held it out to you.

"Here, you can't stay in that wet shirt."

You stared at the jacket like it might bite you. The same style jacket Paige had left on your floor that night. The one that probably cost more than your textbooks.

"I can't—"

"You can and you will," Nika insisted, pushing the jacket into your hands. "There's a bathroom right there. Go change before you catch a cold."

Something in her tone brooked no argument. You found yourself in the bathroom before you could really process what was happening, staring at your reflection as you zipped up the warmup jacket. It was slightly too big, making you look like a kid playing dress-up in their older sibling's clothes.

When you emerged, Nika had already claimed a table in the corner, your drinks and the promised chocolate croissant waiting. She waved you over with a smile that somehow managed to be both friendly and slightly intimidating.

"So," she said as you slid into the seat across from her, "what's your major?"

"Engineering. Mechanical." You picked at the croissant, wondering how quickly you could eat it and escape.

Nika's eyes narrowed slightly, like she was trying to solve a puzzle. "Engineering— wait." Her eyes widened with recognition. "Holy shit, are you that girl?"

You froze mid-bite. "What girl?"

"The one from the library! The one who told Paige—what was it? ‘That you’re not one of her groupies’?” Nika's grin spread across her face like wildfire. "No wonder she's been such a mess lately."

You choked on your croissant. "What?"

"Oh my god, this is perfect. You're also the one she—" Nika cut herself off, studying your increasingly red face with growing delight. "The one whose room she crashed in after KK’s party?"

Your face burned hotter than the coffee you'd been wearing moments ago. "How did you—"

"Paige tells me everything," Nika leaned back in her chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Well, eventually. Had to drag this one out of her after she spent three days moping around practice like someone had stolen her favorite pair of Jordan’s.”

"I didn't steal anything," you protested automatically. "Not her phone, not her—"

"Oh, she knows that now," Nika waved dismissively. "Found it in the team room yesterday morning. Right where those girls said it would be." She paused, then added with a smirk, "Though I have to say, watching her spiral about it was pretty entertaining. She's not used to people calling her out like that."

The implication hung heavy in the air. You remembered the library girls' story about making out with Paige against the whiteboard. Something must have shown on your face because Nika's expression softened slightly.

"Look, Paige is complicated. She's not used to people seeing through her bullshit." She took a sip of her drink, considering her next words carefully. "Those tickets? That's her way of saying she fucked up."

"By accusing me of stealing her phone?"

"By letting you think she didn't remember that night."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "What?"

Nika's phone buzzed before she could answer. She glanced at it and grimaced. "Speaking of her royal highness, I'm late for film." She stood, gathering her things with practiced efficiency. "Keep the jacket. Consider it compensation for the coffee attack."

You watched her head toward the door, your mind spinning with questions. Just before she left, she turned back with a knowing smirk.

"See you tomorrow at the game. Front row, right?"

The door chimed as she left, leaving you alone with a half-eaten croissant and more questions than answers. You looked down at the jacket, at the way the UConn logo seemed to mock you with its pristine embroidery.

Somehow, in trying to avoid Paige Bueckers, you'd managed to get tangled up in her world anyway. And tomorrow, you'd have to sit courtside and watch her in her element, all while wearing her best friend's jacket.

Mr. Gummy was definitely going to judge you for this.

"No." You glared at the suspicious red cup Riven was waving in front of your face. "Absolutely not."

"Come on! It's tradition!" She pushed the cup closer, its contents sloshing dangerously near the rim. The sharp smell of cheap vodka mixed with what you assumed was cranberry juice wafted toward you. "You can't go to your first real game sober."

You turned back to your mirror, adjusting Nika's warmup jacket for the hundredth time. The number 10 stared back at you, a constant reminder of yesterday's coffee shop encounter. You'd tried to talk yourself out of wearing it, but everything else felt too casual for courtside seats (according to Riven) or too formal (also according to Riven).

"I'm not pregaming a basketball game at three in the afternoon."

"It's four," Riven corrected, checking her phone. "And yes, you are. The team's already been at Gampel for hours, and we need to leave in thirty minutes if we want good spots for warm-ups. I refuse to let you sit there reading thermodynamics while history happens right in front of us."

You spun around, hands on your hips. "History?"

"Yes! We're playing Notre Dame. It's huge." She thrust the cup into your hands with such force that some of it splashed onto your fingers. "And you're wearing Nika Mühl's personal jacket. Do you know how many people would kill for that?"

"I got it because she spilled coffee on me," you muttered, but took a small sip anyway. Just to shut her up. The drink was surprisingly not terrible— mostly juice with just enough vodka to warm your chest.

"Right. Just like Paige 'accidentally' ended up in your bed." Riven made air quotes with her fingers, nearly spilling her own drink in the process. "And then 'accidentally' gave us courtside tickets."

"Can we not talk about that?" You took another sip, larger this time. The warmth spread through your limbs, making everything feel slightly softer around the edges. Maybe Riven had a point about the drinking thing.

"Oh, we're definitely talking about it." She flopped onto your bed, somehow not spilling a drop. "You're wearing her best friend's jacket to watch her play. This is like, next level psychological warfare."

You choked on your drink. "It's not warfare! I just didn't have anything else to wear."

"Mhmm." Riven's knowing smirk made you want to throw Mr. Gummy at her again. "That's why you spent twenty minutes adjusting it in the mirror."

"I did not—"

"You did! You were all,” She stood up, mimicking your earlier movements with exaggerated precision. "'Oh, should I zip it up all the way? Maybe halfway? What if I push up the sleeves?'"

You drained your cup in one go, grimacing at the burn. "I hate you."

"You love me." She was already mixing another drink, this one slightly stronger than the last. "And you're going to thank me when Paige sees you in that jacket and loses her mind."

"She's not going to lose her mind," you protested, but accepted the fresh drink anyway. "She probably won't even notice."

Riven's laugh echoed off the walls. "Oh honey. Paige notices everything. Why do you think she's the best point guard in the country?"

The walk to Gampel Pavilion was a blur of Riven's excited chatter and your growing anxiety. The drinks had taken the edge off, but your heart still raced as you approached the arena. Students were already lining up outside, many wearing jerseys and carrying signs. Your hand instinctively went to the zipper of Nika's jacket, suddenly very aware of what you were wearing.

"Stop fidgeting," Riven hissed, pulling you toward a separate entrance. "You look hot. Own it."

The security guard barely glanced at your tickets before waving you through. The arena was already humming with energy— staff rushing around with equipment, the band setting up in their section, early arrivals claiming their seats.

Your courtside seats were exactly where you'd dreaded they'd be: directly behind the UConn bench. Close enough to hear every word, see every expression, feel every moment of tension.

"This is insane," you muttered, sinking into your seat. The court stretched out before you like a stage, the overhead lights making everything feel surreal.

"Look." Riven nudged you, pointing toward the tunnel. "They're coming out for warm-ups."

Your heart jumped into your throat as the team emerged, led by the coaching staff. Players filed onto the court in perfect formation, their practice jerseys a sea of navy and white. You spotted Nika first— impossible to miss with her distinctive playing style, already intense even in warm-ups.

And then there she was.

Paige moved with that effortless grace that made everything look easy, her ponytail swinging as she dribbled two balls simultaneously. She hadn't looked toward the crowd yet, locked in that pre-game focus that elite athletes got.

"Here we go," Riven whispered, her phone already out and recording.

You watched as Paige went through her warm-up routine, each movement precise and practiced. She worked her way around the three-point line, barely seeming to notice as shot after shot swished through the net.

Then she turned to grab a rebound, and her eyes swept across the courtside seats.

You saw the exact moment she registered you. Her hands froze mid-dribble, the ball bouncing away forgotten. Her gaze locked onto the number 10 across your chest, then slowly traveled up to meet your eyes.

The intensity in her stare made your whole body flush hot. You watched as her jaw clenched, that familiar muscle ticking in a way that sent heat straight to your core. Her eyes darkened with something that looked dangerously close to possession.

Nika appeared beside her, saying something that made Paige snap back to attention. But not before you caught the way her gaze lingered on how her best friend's jacket fit your frame.

"Holy shit," Riven breathed, still recording. "I think you broke her."

You slumped lower in your seat, already regretting letting the vodka convince you this was a good idea. "Shut up."

"No way. This is better than any reality show." She zoomed in as Paige missed her next three shots in a row. "Look what you did to her."

"I didn't do anything," you protested weakly, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from Paige's form. The way her practice jersey clung to her shoulders, how her muscles flexed with each movement, the intense focus that had returned to her features – though you swore you caught her glancing in your direction between plays.

This was going to be a very long game.

The game started exactly as you'd expected— with Paige absolutely demolishing Notre Dame's defense while you tried very hard to look anywhere else. It wasn't working.

"Did you see that pass?" Riven screamed in your ear for approximately the eighteenth time. "She didn't even look!"

No, you hadn't seen the pass, because you were very deliberately studying the fascinating architecture of Gampel's ceiling. The vodka buzz had worn off about twenty minutes ago, leaving you hyperaware of every move, every sound, every time Paige jogged past your seats during transitions.

The worst part? Nika kept sending you these knowing looks from the bench, like she was watching her favorite rom-com play out in real time. You were starting to regret not bringing your thermodynamics textbook after all. At least differential equations made sense. They didn't smirk at you or have perfectly defined arm muscles or—

"Time out, Huskies!"

The players jogged toward the bench, and suddenly your personal space was invaded by very tall, very sweaty athletes. You tried to shrink further into your seat, but there was nowhere to go. Especially not when Paige dropped into a crouch right in front of you, ostensibly to grab her water bottle.

"Nice jacket," she said quietly, just loud enough for you to hear over the timeout huddle. Her eyes traveled down your body in a way that made you feel like you were wearing significantly less than a full warmup jacket and jeans.

You opened your mouth to respond with something witty, something that would put her in her place like you had in the library. Instead, what came out was: "Your friend has good taste."

Paige's eyes darkened, that same possessive look from warm-ups returning with intensity. "Does she?"

Before you could dig yourself into an even deeper hole, Coach Auriemma's voice cut through the tension. "Bueckers! Get your ass over here!"

You watched as she jogged back to the huddle, trying to ignore how your skin felt electric where her gaze had lingered. Beside you, Riven was practically vibrating with excitement.

"I got all of that on video," she whispered, waving her phone in your face. "This is going in the group chat."

"If you send that anywhere, I will reprogram your phone to only play the Barney theme song."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The timeout ended, and the players returned to the court. You noticed Paige was playing with even more intensity now, if that was possible. Her crossovers were sharper, her passes more precise, like she had something to prove.

"Twenty bucks says she's showing off for you," Riven muttered.

"Thirty says you're delusional."

But as you watched Paige sink another impossible three-pointer and turn slightly— just slightly - in your direction before jogging back on defense, you had to admit that maybe, just maybe, Riven had a point.

The game continued in a blur of strategic timeouts (during which Paige found increasingly creative ways to end up near your seat), incredible plays (that you definitely weren't watching just to see the way her muscles moved), and Riven's running commentary (which was getting progressively less about basketball and more about the "tension that could be cut with a knife").

By the fourth quarter, UConn had built a comfortable lead, and you'd developed a concerning familiarity with exactly how Paige's practice jersey clung to her shoulders when she was sweating. This was not information you needed in your life. You had CAD models to build, robots to program, a future in engineering to secure. You did not have time to notice how her hair had started falling out of its ponytail in these impossibly attractive wisps, or how—

"Game! Huskies win!"

The final buzzer snapped you out of your completely professional analysis of athletic biomechanics. The crowd erupted as players from both teams exchanged handshakes and hugs. You stood, ready to make your escape before—

"Leaving so soon?"

You turned to find Paige standing right there, still slightly breathless from the game, her presence filling your entire field of vision. Up close, you could see the flush of exertion on her cheeks, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the slight curl of her lips that suggested she knew exactly what she was doing to you.

"I have studying to do," you managed, proud that your voice came out steady.

"On a Saturday night?" She stepped closer, and you caught the faint scent of her perfume mixed with sweat. It should not have been as attractive as it was. "After watching me put up thirty points?"

"Thirty-two," you corrected automatically, then immediately wanted to die. Beside you, Riven made a sound that might have been a squeal or a laugh.

Paige's smirk grew wider. "So you were watching."

"It was kind of hard to miss, considering where we're sitting." You gestured to the courtside seats that had started this whole mess.

"About that," she ran a hand through her hair, and those loose strands fell perfectly around her face in a way that had to be practiced. "I was thinking maybe we could—"

"Paige!" Nika's voice cut through whatever she'd been about to say. "Media's waiting!"

You'd never been so grateful for press obligations in your life.

Paige's jaw clenched in frustration, but she recovered quickly. "This isn't over," she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear. Then she was gone, jogging toward the media section with that natural athletic grace that made everything look effortless.

You stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Your skin still tingled where she'd been standing close enough to touch.

"So," Riven's voice broke through your daze. "Still think she hasn't noticed you?"

"We're going out," Riven declared, already rummaging through your closet without permission. "No arguments."

You looked up from your laptop, where you'd been desperately trying to focus on anything other than replaying the game in your head for the past two hours. "I have to—"

"If you say 'study' I will literally scream." She emerged with your one decent going-out top, the black one with the low back that you'd bought on impulse and worn exactly once. "You just watched UConn destroy Notre Dame from courtside seats while Paige Bueckers eye-fucked you in front of the entire student section. We're celebrating."

"She wasn't—" You cut yourself off, heat creeping up your neck. "And anyway, shouldn't she be celebrating with her girlfriend?"

The words tasted bitter in your mouth. You'd been trying very hard not to think about Taylor, about how Paige had crashed into your room calling out her name, about how clearly serious it must be if she was that desperate to apologize. The fact that she'd spent the entire game looking at you like... that... well, it just proved what everyone said about her, didn't it?

"Oh my god," Riven threw the shirt at your head. "Put this on. We're getting drunk and you're going to tell me everything you're overthinking about right now."

An hour later, you found yourself at The Tavern, nursing your second Moscow Mule while Riven recounted the game to anyone who would listen. The bar was packed with students celebrating the win, most still wearing their UConn gear and riding the high of victory.

"I just don't get it," you said, mostly to your drink. "Why is she suddenly so interested? I'm literally nobody. I spend my Friday nights debugging Python scripts and building robots that occasionally catch fire."

"Maybe that's exactly why," Riven waggled her eyebrows. "You're different. You don't worship the ground she walks on."

You snorted. "Right. Because what Paige Bueckers really wants is someone who told her to fuck off in the library."

The doors to The Tavern burst open, and suddenly the energy in the room shifted. A new wave of celebration swept through as the team arrived, fresh from their post-game duties. Your stomach did a complicated flip as you spotted Paige among them, now changed into fitted black jeans and a white button-down that should be illegal. Her hair was down, falling in waves that your fingers definitely didn't itch to touch.

"Speak of the devil," Riven smirked. "Want to test that theory?"

"Don't you dare—" But Riven was already waving enthusiastically, catching Nika's attention. The Croatian player's face lit up with unholy glee when she spotted you.

"Engineering girl!" Nika bounded over, dragging a very amused-looking Paige with her. "Still wearing my jacket, I see."

You started to unzip it, but she waved you off. "Keep it. It looks better on you anyway." She shot Paige a meaningful look that made your cheeks burn.

"I need another drink," Riven announced suddenly, grabbing Nika's arm. "Come show me where the team keeps their secret stash."

"We don't have a—" Nika caught on quickly, grinning. "Oh, right. That secret stash. This way."

And just like that, you were alone with Paige at the crowded bar, your body humming with awareness of how close she was standing.

"Subtle, aren't they?" Paige smiled, and for once it wasn't that practiced smirk. It was something softer, more genuine. She signaled the bartender, who materialized instantly. Must be nice being a campus celebrity.

"The usual?" The bartender asked Paige, already reaching for a bottle.

"And whatever she's having," Paige nodded toward your nearly empty Moscow Mule.

"I can buy my own drinks," you said quickly, reaching for your wallet.

Paige's lips twitched. "I know you can. But consider it part of my ongoing apology for the whole bed situation."

You raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep your voice steady. "You always apologize to your drunken mistakes with expensive drinks?"

The moment the words left your mouth, you wanted to snatch them back. But instead of looking offended, Paige just studied you with those impossibly intense eyes.

"Only the ones who let me cuddle their stuffed bears."

"Mr. Gummy," you corrected automatically, then immediately wanted to die. Again.

The bartender returned with your drinks, and you grabbed yours perhaps a bit too quickly, needing something to do with your hands. The Moscow Mule was perfect – strong enough to blame your burning cheeks on the alcohol.

"So," Paige said after a moment, looking far too comfortable for someone who'd just been called out on their drunken mistakes. "Engineering, huh?"

You nearly choked on your drink. "Are we really doing small talk right now?"

"Would you prefer I go back to staring at you from across the court?"

"I prefer knowing where I stand," you shot back, the alcohol making you braver than usual. "Because last I checked, you had a girlfriend you were pretty desperate to apologize to."

Something flashed across her face – regret? Embarrassment? "Taylor and I it's complicated."

"Isn't it always?" You couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of your voice. You'd heard enough stories about Paige's "complicated" situations to fill a textbook.

She turned to face you fully, and your breath caught at the unexpected vulnerability in her expression. "Look, I know what people say about me. Some of it's probably true. But Taylor and I have been over for months. That night... I was drunk and stupid because she'd started seeing someone new, and I handled it badly."

"By trying to crawl into her bed?"

"By accidentally crawling into yours." Her voice dropped lower, sending involuntary shivers down your spine. "Which, in retrospect, might have been the universe doing me a favor."

You forced yourself to meet her gaze, ignoring how your heart raced at the way she was looking at you. "Does that line usually work?"

"I don't know," she smiled, and it wasn't her usual cocky smirk. It was something smaller, almost shy. "I've never used it before."

Before you could process that, a commotion erupted near the pool tables. You both turned to see Riven attempting to teach one of the team's shooting guards proper form, which seemed to involve a lot of unnecessary physical contact.

"Ten bucks says they end up making out in the bathroom," Paige said, amusement coloring her tone.

"Twenty says Riven chickens out and spends the next week telling me about all the signals she thinks she missed."

Paige laughed, and the sound did something dangerous to your insides. "You know your roommate well."

"Well enough to know she's going to interrogate me about this conversation later."

"This conversation?" Paige shifted slightly closer, and you caught that intoxicating mix of her perfume and something uniquely her. "What's there to interrogate about?"

You gestured vaguely between you. "This whole... whatever this is. Where you're suddenly interested in small talk about my major and making jokes about the universe doing you favors."

"Maybe I just want to know more about the girl who told me to fuck off in the library." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "While wearing my best friend's jacket, no less."

"That was an accident—"

"Was it?" She was definitely closer now, close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. "Because from where I was standing, it looked a lot like a challenge."

Your grip tightened on your drink. "Not everything is about you, Bueckers."

"No," she agreed, her voice soft but intense. "But the way you've been looking at me all night? That might be."

The air between you crackled with tension. You should step back. You should remember all the stories, all the warnings, all the reasons this was a terrible idea. You should—

"There you are!" Nika's voice cut through the moment like a bucket of cold water. "Coach just texted. Team meeting tomorrow morning got moved up."

Paige's jaw clenched in frustration, but she recovered quickly. "What time?"

"Eight AM." Nika's eyes darted between you and Paige, her expression far too knowing. "Sorry to interrupt."

"You weren't," you said quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly judging by Nika's raised eyebrow.

Paige turned back to you, and the intensity in her gaze made your breath catch. "We'll finish this conversation later."

It wasn't a question.

You watched her walk away, trying to ignore how your body still hummed from her proximity. Nika lingered behind, grinning like she'd just won a bet with herself.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I've never seen her work this hard for someone's attention before."

"I'm not—" you started, but Nika was already following Paige, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a half-empty Moscow Mule.

Riven materialized beside you moments later, her eyes wide. "Okay, what the hell was that?"

"Nothing," you mumbled into your drink. "Just Paige Bueckers being Paige Bueckers."

But as you watched her gather her team to leave, she turned back just for a moment, catching your eye across the bar. The look she gave you was pure heat, a promise of more conversations to come.

You were so beyond utterly fucked.

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queenpiranhadon · 4 months ago

Note

Can I request bkg and reader getting in a fight so they still share the bed but sleep while facing away from each other. But then reader gets nightmare about him dying and clutches to him. How do you think he would react??

A/N: Sobbing because the manga has me in shambles TY ANON FOR THE REQUESTTT <33 Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Mild cursing, you and Katsuki get into a fight, he's a little hot headed but he means well, you both love each other so much, you both are dating, mentions of an anxiety attack, nightmares, angst to comfort, mentions of blood and death, slight spoilers, reader is called princess and baby, f!reader.

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

"Katsuki you can't keep doing this to yourself!"

"Jesus baby, ya know that this is my job, I don't have a choice! I can't just stop savin' people 'cause my girlfriend wants me to."

It went on like that for a while, back and forth, between "You can't just keep coming home like this, it's not healthy!" and "It's my fuckin' job - what the fuck do ya want me to do about it?!" as well as every single variation of the two.

It was exhausting.

You were understandably worried sick about your pro hero boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugou, you always had been. You loved him to death, you always would, but your heart simply couldn't take the sight of him coming home bruised and bloodied and on the brink of death.

You believed in him, you really did, but the little voice in the back of your head never seemed to stop asking the one question you wish never had to be asked in the first place.

What if it finally became too much? What if one day, he didn't come home back to you?

The scenarios that voice would create were almost as bad as having to experience it in real life, and Katsuki's blatant disregard for your feelings only made it worse.

To him, you didn't believe in him. Your worries made him feel weak - your worries made it seem like his skills were incompetent, as if he wasn't enough. After all, when you see a hero like All Might on the screen, no one is simply worried for his wellbeing, because they know he'll win.

Why don't you think he can win?

The two of you don't speak to each other for the rest of the night, still sleeping in the same bed but turned away from each other.

And it was hard, trying to fall asleep without the other, so accustomed to falling asleep in each other's arms, but you finally managed to do so.

However, without Katsuki's presence to soothe you in the night, the voice in your head decided to take the reins on your dreams.

Except it was much more worse than that.

You were on a battle field, there was so much happening except there was nothing happening at the same time.

You can't see your hands, or the rest of your body, eerily making you a spectator to the chilling scene around you.

The ground was slate grey, and then it wasn't, crimson blood staining the ground until all you could see was red.

You try to scream, but you can't because you have no body, and consequently, no mouth.

Still you persist, opening an invisible mouth to let out soundless screams in the hope that someone, anyone, can get you out of this soulless empty hellhole.

And then you see him.

It's Katsuki.

He looks fine, unharmed except for the hollow look in his eyes.

Your heart aches and you reach out an invisible hand to do something, to apologize for losing your temper, anything to have him back.

But the moment you blink, Katsuki isn't fine, or unharmed anymore.

Now, there was a gaping hole in his chest, and half of his face was stained the same crimson that was splattered across the ground.

You could only watch in horror as Katsuki's life was sucked out of him, seeping out through the blood that dripped out of his body, staining the ground even further, pooling at his feet.

You scream even more, but nothing comes out. You can't do anything, and the love of your life is bleeding out and you're just standing there.

Shit!

You didn't realize you were crying until you feel two strong hands gently shaking you awake, finding yourself buried in Katsuki's chest, clutching onto his shirt like it was your lifeline. Or in this case, his.

"Princess? I'm here, baby I'm here...everything's okay..." he murmurs, his gruff voice soothing you as he strokes your hair, allowing you to soak his shirt with your tears, not minding it at all.

You look at him, and his heart breaks at the broken look in your eyes.

"Katsuki...?" you whisper, and he looks at your with those piercing vermillion eyes, ridden with guilt.

"Baby, m'so sorry I talked to ya like that.... I'm so stupid, damnit." he whispers angrily, not to you, but to himself.

How had he not realized how bad your anxiety was?

He sighs - he wasn't the focus right now, you were.

He brings a large and gentle hand around, cupping the back of your head and tenderly pressing it against his chest.

"Feel that princess? That my heart, beating for ya. And only for ya, ya hear me?"

You giggle softly, feeling your heart warm. The two of you fall asleep together like that, and the little voice in your head finally gives you a few words of assurance.

Katsuki's okay.

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byeoltoyuki · 10 days ago

Text

DENIAL

↳ Pairing: San x reader

❧ Genre: enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, fluff

❧ Words: +6k

❧ Warnings: blowjob, unprotected sex, pussy slapping, mention of orgasm denial and spanking and being tied.

❧Summary : You swore it was a one-time thing. Get him out of your system and never see him again. If only it was that simple.

❧ A/N: Surprise! I’m not dead! I’ve been barely active on tumblr for the past few months but I never stopped wishing to have time to write some more. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing. Comments are always appreciated ♥

“It’s the last time.” You swore against San’s lips, biting angrily, pushing him against the nearest wall, tearing his shirt off, as if it was entirely his fault. When really, it was mainly yours.

This thing, whatever it was, between the two of you, was supposed to be a one-time thing. You were supposed to get him out of your system, maybe also prove that he wasn’t worth your time, and preferably ignore his existence for the rest of your life. So how the hell did a one-time thing turned into two, then three, then ten?

Simple.

San was a walking sin. Handsome (sadly) face with a sharp jaw. Pretty eyes, pretty smile and devastatingly cute dimples. And his body. You shuddered just at the mere thought. Strong muscles that could crush you if he wanted to. Strong hands that often find its ways either around your throat or on your ass.

To sum up, San was a temptation you couldn’t ignore no matter how hard you tried.

“I believe you said the same thing the last two times.” He reminded you, a smug grin on his face. Oh how much you wished you could wipe this grin from his face – but you couldn’t. San held power over you. He knew exactly what to say, where to kiss, where to touch to turn you into an addicted mess, begging for more. Always making sure you would crawl back to him.

There had to be something wrong with you. There was no other explanation.

Annoyed with yourself and a little with him, you shut him up with another kiss, trying to win at least one battle – the only one you stood a chance. There was nothing sweet about the way you kissed. No, you poured both all your resentment and need into the kiss. You pressed yourself harder against him, pulling at his hair which made him chuckle against your lips, completely unfazed with your annoyance.

“Nice attempt, kitten.” San cooed at you, his hands slowly sliding down your body, stopping at your butt. He gave it a strong squeeze that made you bite on your lips to prevent a moan to escape. “But we both know I win again.”

You were dying to protest, to prove him wrong. But it would be lying. Because ever since you met, he kept winning against you.

Six months ago

The bar was crowded and loud. So many people had gathered there for different reasons in the middle of the week. You and your friend were one of them. It was supposed to be a good night. A night to celebrate another victory of yours, another success. And yet, you were far from celebrating. Quite the opposite.

You emptied your glass in one go and groaned. “I can’t believe she chose this Choi’s design.” You complained, still baffled that you had failed. You were one of the best in your field and you had spent endless hours working to satisfy a potential client. You were so confident in your design, convinced your client would adore the outcome. And she did. She did admit it. It was a tough decision and yet, you lost to a guy you had never met or heard before and it irked you to no end, hurt in your ego.

“As much as it pains me to admit, he’s good.” Yeji said and winced instantly as you gave her the stinky eye. She held up her hands in defense. “Don’t look at me like that. I warned you he’s good, you choose not to listen.”

Yes, you made a terrible mistake and you were perfectly aware of it. It wasn’t in your habits to underestimate an opponent whether it was their first time or not, but lost in your own little world, you did exactly that and now were paying the price.

“Fuck.” You buried your face in your hands. It wasn’t the end of your world and definitely not of your career but it still stung.

“Come on, I don’t think it’s a bad thing.” Yeji began, “This project would have taken a lot of your free time. Now you can concentrate on something else.”

“Guess so.” You agreed. “I’m gonna get another drink.” But before you could do that, a commotion behind you attracted your attention as a group of men entered the bar. You didn’t intend to stare (and you were definitely not the only one staring right now) but it was impossible not to. The four of them looked incredibly handsome in their suits and had a powerful aura around them.

Well shit. Your eyes followed them as they went for the only empty table in the back of the bar. You eyed them, one by one, your gaze stopping at the tallest of the group. You watched him, unable to take your eyes off him, as he took off his jacket and slowly rolled the sleeves of his white shirt, exposing strong and veiny arms.

Yeji coughed beside you, trying to attract your attention to no avail. For a short moment you felt like in a movie; the moment where everything and everyone stopped existing except for you and this stranger. It was a ridiculous reaction, you thought later, but there was something about him that had you completely bewitched. Maybe you had a kink for men in suits and you weren’t aware of it. Or maybe it was his aura along with the nice smile.

“YN,” Yeji’s voice sounded so far away despite her being so close. “You should probably stop looking.” She quickly added, sounding a little nervous which should have been a warning but you barely registered her words.

He, sensing probably your eyes on him, looked your way. He stared back, his gaze so intense you gulped. But then, he smiled, showing his cute dimples and you swore your heart missed a beat. Yeah, you somehow ended in a movie.

“You’re drooling.” Yeji mocked.

That got your attention and you quickly looked away. “I am not.”

Yeji burst into laughter. “That got your attention huh.” But quickly sobered as she glanced at the man who was still staring at you, curiously. “Just so you know, this man is Choi San.”

You were grateful your hands were empty because you would have dropped your glass. “What?” You looked back, eyes wide. This beautiful stranger, the man that made your heart skipped a beat couldn’t be the man who won against you. No way. You refused to believe your friend.

Until the said man winked your way, his smile turning into a knowing smirking as if he knew exactly what Yeji had told you. As if he knew, you just found out his identity and were not happy about it.

Fuck my life.

Back to present

San grabbed your hips and in a blink of an eye you found yourself crushed against the wall. He pressed his body hard against yours, letting you feel all of him. Letting you feel just how badly he was also craving you. You couldn’t help but arch and moan as you felt his hardness against you. He pushed his leg between your knees and forced them apart. Your body moved on its own, you grinded shamelessly against his thigh, trying to ease the ache between your legs.

He tsked. “So needy.” And yet he didn’t stop you. “So beautiful, love.” San dragged his lips from your lips, to your jaw, to your throat, leaving no inch of flesh untouched. “So responsive.” Biting, licking, marking you. No matter how many times you told him not to mark you, he still did as if he wanted the whole world to know exactly who you belonged to. As if he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t forget that no matter how much you tried to escape him, there was no way out.

Your whole body thrummed with need, with desire. You believed you could die if he didn’t touch you. It should be illegal to feel so much need for someone.

“Tell me, love. What do you want?” He asked as he bit on your tender flesh.

Desperate and on fire as you were, you were ready to accept anything he was willing to give. “Anything.”

He chuckled against your skin. “My lips?” And he sucked a spot. “My tongue?” And he licked. “My fingers?” You felt him slip his fingers right under your dress, toying with your flesh. “Mmmmh, no panties tonight, love? You knew how it would end.” For someone who behaved as if San was the bane of your existence, you certainly came prepared for this to happen. Hoping he would bring you to his place and ruin you.

“Please, please, please.” You begged, half delirious with need. His fingers were so close to your aching pussy. You just couldn’t wait any longer.

“Use your mouth, love.” He advised you. “You usually have no problem with using this pretty mouth of yours. Especially to tell me how much you hate me.” He pressed the palm of his hand to your cunt and hummed in satisfaction. “And yet look at you. So desperate.” And he slapped your pussy.

You arched your back as a loud moan escaped your lips. It was not enough. You couldn’t take it. “Just fuck me. Please.”

San hiked your legs around his waist, his grip on you strong, bruising, possessive. You loved every second of it. You buried your head into his neck, biting, leaving marks in return. For once, it wouldn’t be just scratches on his back that you would leave.

Holding you with one hand, he took out his cock with the other and nudged against your pussy. Despite his own need and wish to ravish you and make you scream his name, he couldn’t help but tease you.

You whined in response. “Bloody hell, San.”

“Admit that you don’t hate me and I’ll give it to you.” He challenged you.

And you couldn’t believe he would ask something like that. You could talk about your hatred (or lack of it) any other time but no, he chose this moment. The urge to kick him was strong but San pushed the tip of his hot and hard cock inside you and you lost the wish to fight right away.

Fuck it. You needed him to fill you up more. “I don’t hate you.”

The smile he gave you unsettled you. His smile was genuine and so happy, you forgot how to breath. But before you could dwell on it, San buried himself to the hilt.

“Fuck!” You threw your head back.

This.

Him inside you, hard and warm. So incredibly full. You just couldn’t get enough of it.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath. He was trying hard to control himself and not just pound into you. He wanted to tease you more, to watch you fall apart around his cock. But then, you clenched around him and he growled. “Don’t do that.” It came out more desperate than he intended, exposing just how affected he was. He could play the powerful man all he wanted, but once inside you, there was little control left.

“Fuck me, please.”

San closed his eyes and took a deep breath before, finally, unleashing the beast. His grip on your thighs tightened to the point, you knew it would leave marks later, and did not care. He fucked you against the wall, his every thrusts powerful, going deeper and deeper. Your nails dug into his shoulders, holding for your dear life as whimpers escaped your parted lips.

You took everything he gave you, mewling, arching, begging for more. “Please, don’t stop.” It was still not enough. You didn’t comprehend why you needed so much more from him, but there was no reasoning. Not when your whole body sang in response to his cock.

“No chance.” He reassured you with another sharp thrust. “This,” and another strong one. “is mine, kitten.” And he growled louder, his pace not slowing down. In fact, it turned harder. Punishing.

And it felt divine. Every inch of him just made you feel so alive. There was no stopping. Every stroke of his cock brought you closer to the edge. Your mind blanked. You could barely breath. Your body trembling. And you still wanted more. More pleasure. More of him.

And he could tell. “Come for me, love.”

How could you not obey when his voice sounded so sweet? So full with something you almost believed to be love. Electricity shot through your body and you cried out his name. Tears leaked from the corner of your eyes as your orgasm hit you in waves.

San fucked you through your orgasm, seeking his own release. San’s thrusts grew sloppier. He hissed between his teeth and finally he came with a deep groan. He pressed his forehead against yours.

None of you spoke. The only sound in the room was your pants and probably the roars of your hearts.

“I’m never letting you go.” He promised.

***

You woke up in the middle of the night, feeling all hot and squeezed tightly. It took you a moment to realize where you were and who was lying half on top of you. You weren’t supposed to be sleeping in his bed. In fact, you were supposed to be back at your place, in your bed. But you were drained after your late-night activity.

One round turned into two than three. You couldn’t have enough of him and San obliged. He fucked you in his bed, hands tied behind your back, at his mercy, ass red with all the spanking (who cared if you wouldn’t be able to sit straight for a day or two). He fucked you again in the shower because you couldn’t be a nice girl and keep your hands to yourself when he tried to clean you.

Get the hell out of here! A little, panicked voice ordered you. But as if sensing your attempt at fleeing, San’s grip on your body tightened to the point you couldn’t move your limbs at all. Even in his sleep, he was aware of your intentions. Even in his sleep, he wanted to keep you close and safe in his arms.

You tried a few times but failed every single time. Resigned, you turned in his arms so you could face his sleeping form. San looked so relaxed, his face so soft and the little pout unleashed the butterflies in the stomach.

Shit. I’m in trouble. Big trouble.

You didn’t want to feel so much for this man, but with every passing day it became harder and harder. Obviously, sex was great and addicting, but it wasn’t the only thing that made you come back for more.

Three months ago,

You sighed and cursed yourself for the hundredth time tonight.

They say ‘beauty requires sacrifice’ – you agreed but hated it nevertheless. Nothing was better than comfortable clothes. But tonight, and every time you had a party where you could spot potential clients, you did your best. And tonight, you looked particularly good. You had outdone yourself, whether it was with your dress or your shoes or your makeup. Everything was perfect. Not that you had any ulterior motives. No men you were trying to seduce. And especially not the diabolically handsome one who, and it hurt to admit, chose not to come tonight. It was unusual. San attended the same parties you did which made avoiding him quite difficult and not end in his bed even harder.

You shook your head. “Stop thinking about this asshole.” You scolded yourself and slowly walked towards the balcony, hoping it would be empty and you could take your shoes off for a moment. Heels were great, it made you look hot, but it was a pain in your ass. You regretted them a lot.

You met few people from the party on your way to the balcony; some were too lost in their conversation, some seemed to be lost in a seduction game and some smiled at you. You tried your best to ignore the pain and smile back.

But finally, you reached your destination. You sighed loudly in relief as you found the balcony empty. Just perfect. You leaned against the railing and slowly reached your feet and started rubbing. It soothed you but only for a moment. The wish to just take them off was strong but you couldn’t possibly walk back bare feet.

“What a sight.” A very familiar voice echoed not very far from you.

All your pain vanished instantly as you raised your head and found San leaning against the doorframe, watching you intensely. Your heart leaped in joy at the sight of him which should have appalled you but right in this moment, you barely cared. He looked dashing in his white cream suit. He could be a model and you wouldn’t be surprised.

San eyed you from head to toe, slowly, making sure to memorize the sight in front of him. “I’m surprised no men tried to approach you. You’re gorgeous, love.”

You weren’t waiting for someone’s approval, but his words along with the hunger in his eyes, pleased you more than you were willing to admit. Your words failed you, so instead of trying to say something, you simply stared back and enjoy the view.

A tiny smile grew on San’s face at your lack of reaction. Slowly, he moved toward you and only then you noticed what he was holding in his hand: a pair of flat shoes. Your shoes. You didn’t remember leaving a pair at his place which made you question how he got them in the first place.

“What – How?” You mumbled; eyes wide.

San didn’t answer right away. He stopped in front of you and then, slowly, his eyes locked with yours, got on his knees. You forgot how to breath for a second, unable to look away, unable to speak.

Your treacherous mind couldn’t help but imagine what he could do to you. Your treacherous body forgot all about the pain and instead tingled with desire.

You watched him as his hands found your ankles and a soft gasp escaped your lips. He rubbed your ankles gently, his warmth spreading through your body.

“San-“ Whatever you were about to say died on your tongue as he massaged your left ankle a little stronger – you moaned at the relief. Embarrassed with how easily he made you moan, you clasped your hand over your mouth. San, instead of teasing you like he usually would, only smiled.

“Hold on to me.”

You hold onto his shoulder, your knees feeling suddenly weak. Not because you couldn’t stand properly but having San on his knees, taking care of you and being so gentle? You were a mess and not the kind you were used to. You could probably melt into puddle if you let him be this sweat with you. And that was dangerous.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” You told him to distract yourself from some intrusive thoughts.

“I wasn’t planning to.” He admitted and helped you slip your foot in your so much more comfortable shoe. “But then I thought about missing you in this gorgeous dress.” And then he did the same with your other foot. “And I just couldn’t.”

For a moment you stayed like that. You watching him and wondering how he could be both so evil (at least in your opinion) and so sweet. And San with his hands on your body.

“Couldn’t let another man have you.” San ended up saying as he slowly stood up. His hands didn’t part with you. No, they travelled from your ankles to your legs, to your thighs, hiking your dress in the process causing goosebumps all over your body. “You know why?”

You did know why. Or at least, you could easily guess what he was about to say. You asked anyway, “Why?”

San’s smile went from gentle to wicked and you had no doubt you were in (kind of delicious) trouble. One hand possessively held your waist, the other reached for your hair. His hand tangled in your hair before pulling harshly – a desperate moan escaped your lips. “You’re mine.”

You expected a possessive and dominating kiss. You expected some teeth clashing and a fight for dominance. Instead, he pressed his lips against yours. Softly. Gently. His mouth melting against yours. And so did you. You went completely soft in his arms.

Boy was trouble and there was no escape for you.

Back to present

Despite your rocky beginning, San was probably one the sweetest human being you had ever met. It pained you to admit it but you could no longer hide your feelings behind your hostility. He was gentle and caring. Every little gesture, every little thing he did for you without you expecting him to do, made your walls crumble and your heart yearn for him.

Two months ago,

The advantage of creating your own company with your friend, meant you were the one to decide how to dress, without anyone criticizing. If you decided to come to work in your pajamas the only look you would get would be a shrug from your friend. Which exactly was your case today.

You were exhausted and your body ached. Everywhere. You had San to thank for that. And maybe also yourself. You weren’t planning to provoke him or be a brat, but the temptation was too strong, and you paid dearly for that.

You tried to shake off the image of you under him, sweaty, panting, trembling, begging for him to let you come, your hands tied to the bed with his belt, your skin red and covered with marks. His marks.

You tried to forget the image of him nestled between your legs, digging his fingers into your skin as he teased you. As he feasted on you. Endlessly. Mercilessly. He pushed you to the edge for what felt like hours but never letting you come. No matter how much you begged. How much you cried. Because San had learnt everything about your body. He knew how much you could take. And he showed you.

You groaned and slammed your head on your desk. How were you supposed to have any work done today if you couldn’t concentrate?

“Cute office.” As if summoned just by your mere thoughts, San commented.

Startled, you almost fell off your chair, letting out a little, and very unflattering, yelp. You gawked at him, completely taken off guard and embarrassed. “What the hell are you doing here?” You didn’t intend to sound so hostile, but your tired brain was not cooperating.

San only chuckled and walked inside your office confidently. It was unfair that you looked so not composed and tired while he looked so handsome and relaxed. There was no justice in this world. Or maybe he wasn’t a human (which, in your opinion, would explain a lot). “Plushies, really?”

You cleared your throat and tried to compose yourself. So what if you had a few plushies scattered all around your office? To some it seemed childish, but really, they were the best moral support you could ask for. Plus, they were cute. “Yes. They keep me company.”

“Aren’t you full of surprises.”

You chose not to comment. Instead, you watched him closely and finally noticed what he had brought you.

San followed your gaze and smiled. “I figured you’d need some coffee after the night you had.” And he looked too damn proud when he said those words.

You huffed but couldn’t ignore the smell of coffee as he got closer to your desk. Whatever embarrassment you had felt previously vanished as he set the cup on your desk.

You slowly reached for the cup, eyes not leaving him. “For your information, I feel perfectly fine.” You were not.

San laughed at your poor lie. He sat at the edge of your desk and hovered over you. “You’re a terrible liar, love.” He pointed at the lovely, red mark around your wrist.

You hurried to pull at your sleeve to cover the mark, but San grabbed gently your wrist and brought your hand closer to him. You thought he wanted to inspect and admire his work and probably tease you and remind you why you got tied in the first place (news alert: you couldn’t keep your hands off him when he specifically told you to be a good girl and not touch him). He did none of that.

San peppered your wrist with kisses, the warmth of his lips tickled your skin. At this gesture, butterflies erupted in your stomach. He had absolutely no right to be this gentle and sweat with you. You wanted to argue and tell him to stop but your mouth refused to cooperate. Your whole body (the little traitor) surrendered to him.

Whatever game the two of you were playing, you were now convinced, you wouldn’t come out unscathed.

Back to present

Gently you reached for his face and pushed back some strands that fell over his eyes. You realized, in that moment, that you had made your choice. You could stop running.

Because San was worth the risk.

***

San was no longer in the bed.

You stared blankly at the empty spot before slowly reaching for his side, patting the spot. It was still warm. You rolled to his side and pressed your face to his pillow, inhaling his addicting scent. You still couldn’t believe that you had stayed the night. But oddly enough, now that you had admitted to yourself that there was no avoiding San – it felt nice.

It felt right.

A tiny smile spread on your face. When was the last time you felt so satisfied? So in peace? So happy? You couldn’t remember and maybe because it had never happened before.

Lazily, you threw the blanket off your body and got out of bed. You grabbed San’s shirt from the nearest chair and put it over your body. It was tempting to just walk out of his room naked and tempt the devil, but your body ached in reminder. There was no way you could have another round.

The moment you stepped out of his room, you easily guessed where to find him. A delicious smell was spreading in the hall. San was making breakfast and your stomach grumbled in response and delight. You had the privilege of trying his food. Once. You smiled at the memory. He had promised to take care of you. And he did.

He always did.

One month ago,

You had been told many times that you were a stubborn woman. You would love to refute this statement but sadly, it was true. Today was just another example of your stubbornness. You were sick, coughing for your dear life and a little feverish. But did it stop you from working from home? Absolutely not. Bundled up in your fluffiest blanket, a cup of tea with honey on your table, you pushed your limits. Didn’t matter that you received at least ten messages from Yeji, threatening you if you didn’t get any rest. You laughed at her attempt, even when she threatened with sending you San to deal with you. You didn’t really think she would reach him. Could reach him.

That was your mistake.

Music in your headphones you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings. And why would you in the safety of your home? Why would you when you lived in a friendly neighborhood, without stories.

Until you felt strong arms around your body.

Until your heart missed a beat.

You screamed, as loud as your lungs allowed you to while being sick.

You fought for your life, kicking, and screaming as the intruder lifted you from the couch as if you weighed nothing. It was a sad way to go, you thought, alone, at home, looking like a mess in your damn pajamas. You could already imagine the headlines.

Or maybe you wouldn’t die. Maybe, whoever was holding you tightly against a very solid torso, wanted to kidnap you. It was better than death, right? Right?

“For someone supposedly sick, you have too much energy, love.”

Your body froze instantly at the warm and friendly voice.

You knew that voice.

You loved a little too much that voice.

You opened your eyes and gawked at a very amused San. He shook his head, smiling fondly; his dimples on full display - your hand hitched to poke his cheeks.

Realization dawned on you.

One, you should definitely not underestimate ever again Yeji’s threats.

And two, you were not going to die today. Except maybe of embarrassment. Your face heated up in embarrassment and you buried your head into his chest, trying to hide, trying to forget the very unlady scream that had left your mouth.

San laughed softly and pressed his lips against your forehead. “It’s okay. I promise not to tease you about this little incident.” Seemed too good to be true. San never forgot about your embarrassing moments. Never. “For the next few days at least.”

“Knew it. Asshole.” You cursed under your breath and slapped his chest for good measure. Not like it hurt him anyway but you felt a little better afterwards. You cleared your throat, “How about you put me down now?” Thought for a second and quickly added, “And maybe explain why and how the hell did you get inside my place?”

San huffed in response and pressed you a little tighter against him. “Why? Isn’t it nice? In my arms?”

“No. I hate it.” You lied through your teeth.

In fact, it was more than nice. Too fucking nice.

It felt right.

And safe.

San was warm. And gentle. And smelled too damn good. You forced your body to obey and not to move. You forced yourself not to rub your nose against his neck. It worried you a little how badly you wanted to do it. Your fever is the reason. That’s why.

San laughed heartily at your blatant lie. “Yeah sure. Whatever floats your boat, love.”

Your ego demanded that you defend yourself but any words you were about to say died on your tongue as San carried you straight to your room. It was his first time at your place and yet he looked like he belonged. That was another worrisome thought.

“Wait-“ You protested at the sight of your bed. Your brain finally caught up with his intentions. “I’m not staying in my bed!” And you wriggled in his arms. You didn’t mind if he dropped you (what a little pain right?), but there was just no way you would go back to bed when you have lot to do.

“Yes, you are.” San threw you on your bed, making you squeal in the process.

You recovered quickly, glaring at him as angrily as you could manage, ready to jump out of the bed. San pushed you back with one hand. One, strong enough, push and you fell right back.

“Don’t even think about it.” He warned you. “I’m glad to know I’m not the only one you refuse to listen to.” There was no doubt he was referring to Yeji but you ignored his remark (and took note to curse your friend later for not minding her damn business).

“Yes. You’re not special.” You grumbled and pulled the blanket over your body. You refused to admit that being in your bed felt nice, your body instantly melting in your sheets.

“YN.” You winced at the use of your name. San almost never used your name. He loved using different pet names that most of the time pushed your buttons (and yet they grew on you). Hearing your name coming out of his mouth brought very unwanted feelings. “You’re a stubborn little thing, but it’s okay, I like it.” He hovered over you and brushed few strands of hair from your face. “Be a good girl and rest. I’m going to take care of you.”

Back to present

You thought you couldn’t take another round. Well that was your thought before finding San in the kitchen.

Fuck my life.

If you thought that San in a suit was hot, this San in grey sweatpants and shirtless and cooking was a sight you would never forget. Who cared about breakfast when you had such a sweet meal right in front of you? And who cared that your body was begging you not to jump on him?

To hell with food. You had a better idea.

Without making any noise, you approached him. You pressed your lips to his shoulder, then to his back, enjoying the taste of his skin on your lips. You expected to startle him but San only chuckled and glanced over his shoulder.

“Hello love.”

You only hummed in response, too busy peppering his back with kisses.

“Food is almost ready.” You bet San knew exactly what kind of meal you wanted and yet he played pretend.

You hummed again while your hands travelled from his shoulders to his arms, hands to settle then on his hips. Before you could explore further, San grabbed your hands and turned to face you, trying to look stern. Nice attempt, you thought. But his eyes betrayed him.

You batted your eyes innocently but refused to let go so easily.

“You won’t stop, will you?” He asked, resigned.

You licked your lips in response. San let go of your hands and you smirked in victory. Slowly you lowered yourself on your knees. You grabbed his pants along with his boxers and pulled, freeing his cock. Your mouth watered at the sight of your prize. Long and thick and begging for attention.

You grasped him with both hands and stroked. Slowly, gently, taking your time. You savored the feeling, the moment. The power you had over him. You loved letting him take control over you, but you also delighted in watching him come apart because of you. Because of your touches, your mouth, your tongue. There was just something so hot, so sexy, watching him throw his head back, his eyes closed, lost in his own pleasure.

You pressed your thighs a little tighter, feeling just how easily you got wet and you had barely touched him yet.

Slowly, you licked his cock. Up and down, savoring the taste of him. His hips bucks in response and you hid your smirk. It was game on.

You slid his length down your throat, moaning at the feel of him inside your mouth. San was thick and long and hard and you still weren’t fully used to him. But who cared? A little challenge was always welcoming. You took him as far as you could – your eyes watered.

“Fuck, kitten.” He groaned as his hands sank into your hair, grabbing tightly. You moaned around him in response, loving the slight sting of pain. “You’re so good to me.”

You usually weren’t but you didn’t correct him. You also didn’t tell him how much you wanted things to change between the two of you. But it was okay, you had lots of time before you. And right now, the most important thing for you was to please this beautiful man, this lovely and sweet human-being.

You bobbed your head and licked and sucked, confidently, eagerly. With every swirl of your tongue, his grip on your hair tightened. You bet he was trying hard not to let go and just fuck your mouth.

Every little groan, every pants only fueled your own desire. You were yourself so turned on you fought the urge to slip your hand between your legs and take care of your own needs. Not this time, come on.

“Just like that.” He encouraged you.

You moaned in response, eyes blurry with tears as you stared back at him. And what a sight. San chocked. He was barely holding on. You so eager, teary, your mouth full of him.

Your mouth and hands worked in tandem. You increased your pace, sensing he was so close to his release. And you wanted it. You wanted him to come down your throat. You wanted to show him you could be a perfect, little girl if given a chance.

“YN-“ He warned you and tried to push you off him.

You didn’t budge. You held stubbornly and let him explode with a roar inside your mouth. He watched you with bright eyes as you swallowed everything. He watched as you slowly released him and licked your lips, glowing in delight and satisfaction.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” But despite his words, he smiled. He grabbed your arms and lifted you from the floor. You barely had time to recover, his lips were already on yours. Sweet, gentle and yet also demanding. He parted your lips with his tongue and deepened the kiss, tasting himself on your tongue, moaning into the kiss.

You melted in his arms, into the kiss. This was the best morning ever and you wished you had done it sooner. How many mornings like this did you miss because of your own stubbornness? Because you refused to admit how you truly felt? It was ridiculous and you punched yourself mentally for that.

San pulled back. He held your face between his hands, staring more seriously at you. “You stayed.”

Oh. Maybe you were about to have the talk after all. “I did.”

If San was frustrated with your answer, he didn’t show it. Ever the patient man. He simply nodded and stroked your cheek. Slowly. Lovingly. His eyes never left yours. “You never did before. Why now?”

Your heart beat loud and strong inside your chest, you bet he could hear it too. “I-“ Why was it so hard to be honest? Why was it so hard to confess how you truly felt? It shouldn’t be. Not with him. And yet, you couldn’t formulate a proper answer.

Fortunately for you, San saw through your struggle. “Let me tell you this, YN. I want it all. I want you. Your heart, your body, your soul and everything you’re willing to give me.” And there, the dimples were back as he smiled at you. “I want your smiles and your lovely giggles. I want your anger and your tears. I want to spend my days and nights with you. And I want to wake up by your side every single day. Do you want it too?”

There was only one possible answer and as he finished his confession, you couldn’t help but give him the warmest smile you could muster. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“I want it very much.”

#ateez smut #ateez #san #san smut #choi san #ateez x reader #san x reader #ateez fluff #denial

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afloweroutofstone · 11 days ago

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By all accounts, the Americans virtually ensured their own defeat [in the Waygal Valley of Afghanistan]: They repeatedly bombed their closest supporters here, showing just how little the United States understood about the war it was fighting… The Americans killed and maimed the very people who supported them most, swelling the Taliban’s ranks by turning allies into enemies. Convinced that Nuristan would become a transport hub and hide-out for Al Qaeda and its allies, the Americans built bases and aggressively patrolled an area that, for the better part of a century, had been granted autonomy from its own government… Only the Americans dared to encroach into the region, and in doing so created the very insurgent stronghold they feared most. The United States dropped more than 1,000 bombs in a place it never needed to be. Instead of winning hearts and minds, the Americans unwittingly sowed the seeds of their own demise here in the Waygal Valley — just as it did in much of Afghanistan — then stayed for years to reap the harvest. “You have to know when you are the problem,” said retired Col. William Ostlund, the commanding officer of the men who fought the battle in Want (sometimes referred to as Wanat)... In October 2003, the C.I.A. launched an attack against a suspected terrorist in a mountaintop village, sending a trail of fire and smoke into the ink black sky. Gunships strafed the forests where residents had run for safety. A cluster of wood-frame homes and a mosque were decimated; seven people were killed, some while fleeing. The Americans declared the strike a success, a refrain that would become so common it would lose meaning. In reality, the attacks had failed. Not only was their target not there, but the homes and mosque they struck belonged to a staunch American ally, a former governor of Nuristan named Mawlawi Ghulam Rabbani. Mr. Rabbani’s political party, Jamiat-e-Islami, detested the Taliban — so much so that it had partnered with the Americans to overthrow them. In fact, that very night, Mr. Rabbani was in Kabul as part of a delegation of pro-American forces. The only people sheltering in the mountainside home were his family and friends. Of the seven killed, most were women and children, and they included Mr. Rabbani’s son and daughter… Though the attack barely resonated in Kabul, much less in Washington, it changed the dynamic in the Waygal Valley. If people were not yet ready to give up on the Americans, they no longer saw them as infallible liberators. A creeping sense of resentment, and injustice, opened a crack for the Taliban’s message to grow… Perhaps the only person who stuck by the Americans was [Afghan villager] Rafiullah [Arif]. But his loyalty was growing untenable, and even the money his family was getting increasingly wasn’t worth it. Rafiullah and his family couldn’t even go to their local market without worrying that [Taliban fighter] Mullah Osman’s men would kill them. Now, with the Americans preparing to leave his village, he and his family would be completely unprotected. The Americans were coming under mortar fire for the second day in a row. Rafiullah and his family decided to leave for good. They packed up their belongings and fled in a pair of trucks with other civilians, including several doctors who worked at the local clinic. The fleeing vehicles caught the eye of the Americans, who mistakenly believed the Taliban were marshaling forces for another attack. U.S. officers called in an airstrike, sending a hail of gunfire from two Apache helicopters at the convoy, destroying them and nearly everyone inside. Rafiullah lost his father, mother, brother and nephew, along with his arm, an eye and any semblance of support for the U.S. war in Afghanistan. The Americans, once again, declared the strike a success… “They say they came here to help us, but they wound up killing us,” [Rafiullah] said, squinting into the sun with his good eye. “We supported their mission, and they betrayed us.”

#Afghanistan #war

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mariasont · 6 months ago

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maria, i have an ideaaa!!

bimbo!assistant!reader goes on a date with a really shitty guy. and she sneaks away to the back door and calls hotch in the alley to come and save her (it’s also raining). she’s all wet and her makeup’s all ruined when hotch comes.

he then takes her back to his place and takes care of her… and… mushy soft fluffiness happens… and maybe feelings are confessed… and maybe a kiss or 2 happens…🥰💖

TALK ABOUT A BAD DATE - A.H

a/n: genius, genius, you are an absolute genius!!!!!!!!!!! this was probably my fav bimbo!reader fic to write <3 thank you sm for requesting

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: um the rain takes out reader's shirt, so she does kinda flash him for a hot sec, hotch also blatantly checks out her ass, cuties being sickeningly cute, cuties kiss in 4k

wc: 2k

A perfect, flawless, stunning, never-been-done before outfit wasted on a loser of a guy. Your makeup had taken an hour alone, your hair—well, you didn't even want to think about it because you were certain you were starting to break out in hives.

You steadied yourself against the brick wall, the uneven asphalt beneath your heels threatening to take you down as you fished your phone from the depths of your purse.

You dialed the first number you could think of--Hotch's. His was also the only one you had memorized. The battery icon flashed a warning of five percent as you hunched beneath the alleyway's awning, trying to shield yourself from the rain. You desperately hoped he'd pick up.

There was frankly no plan B if he didn't. Go back inside and ask you so-called date for a ride? That was not an option. The moment he pulled up in one of those big trucks, with its deafening music and roaring engine, you regretted not driving yourself. After all, you were well aware what men were compensating for with a big truck.

"Hotchner."

His voice was gruff, the sound slightly distorted by the speaker. You imagined he had just walked through his door, despite the time being eight o'clock on a Friday night. He was presumably preparing to pour his routine glass of scotch.

"Sir, it's me," you said, attempting to ignore the relentless raindrops assaulting your makeup--a battle they seemed intent on winning. Clearly, the concept of setting spray was foreign to them. "Can I ask you for a favor? If you say yes, I pinky promise I'll stop rearranging your desk. I know you have a system, but it just looks so bland sometimes."

"I'm going to overlook that desk comment," he stated, his sigh audible through the phone. You could picture the pensive frown that came with it. "What do you need?"

You drew your lips into a tight line, looking down to watch the rain mock the effort you had put into your outfit.

"Can you come pick me up? Pretty please with sugar on top?"

"Pick you up? From where? Are you okay?"

You shivered slightly, your free hand instinctively rubbing warmth into your arm. You should've brought a jacket. The thought of sharing this evening's failings with your boss did not sound appealing, so you avoided most of his questions.

"I'll text you the location, okay?"

"Okay, yes, I'll be there. Just stay put."

You thanked him and followed that by a double promise to stay put (he didn't believe you the first time). You also told him you'd wait inside, which was less than truthful. The thought of getting drenched was far more attractive than the prospect of bumping in that women-hating boy again.

You didn't have to wait long, thankfully, spotting Hotch's car turn into the alley, the headlights flaring up like spotlights against your face. You used a manicured hand to shield your eyes, narrowing them against the glare. The distinct sound of a door opening and closing signaled his arrival, and soon, Hotch was striding towards you.

"Christ, get in the car," Hotch insisted, more a command than a suggestion.

He was by your side in an instant, his arm on yours as he opened your door and helped you in. Then, unexpectedly, he reached over you to fasten the seatbelt. You giggled, his hand pausing just above your thigh.

"What?"

The rain gently streamed over his perfect skin, his hair now saturated and plastered to his brow, his blue dress shirt bearing the brunt of the downpour.

"You don't trust me to buckle my own seatbelt?"

"I don't trust you with a lot of things." Completely false. "For instance, your choice of men." Completely true.

He clicked the seatbelt into place and swung the door shut, cutting off any chance of a response, then moved around the car to the driver's side.

You can't help but pout, even as your eyes traced the line of his jaw. "How'd you know?"

Any trace of annoyance vanished as quickly as it came as he placed a hand behind you, giving you an even better view of his profile while he reversed the car. Your focus shifted to the ripple of muscles under his shirt.

"I'm trained to know when someone is in distress and you practically spelled it out. The restaurant, the clothes..." His voice tapered off, disguising his pause with a cough while his gaze flickered over your outfit, his cheeks tinged with a fleck of red. "I've got a spare sweatshirt in the back if you need it."

You traced his line of sight to your chest. Emitting a small squeak, you quickly shielded yourself with your arms, realizing that your white top had become completely see through.

"Totally not embarassing," you say, pursing your lips as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

"It's fine," Hotch insists, but you don't miss how his eyes are now careful not to drift from the road. "Put your seatbelt back on."

"I can't reach the sweatshirt."

You shift to face the back, knees planted on your seat as you lean over to grab just the thing you were looking for. In the rearview mirror you catch the brief moment his eyes do stray, discreetly (or so he thought) sweeping over your ass.

A self-satisfied smile crept across you face as you slid back into your seat, slipping on the sweatshirt. It smelled like him—an intoxicating blend of aged leather and pine. You liked it. A lot.

"So do you wanna talk about it?"

You really didn't. With a sigh, you dug through your purse for your lip gloss. Flipping down the passenger mirror, you froze, confronting your reflection.

"Hotch, didn't you think to mention my face is all... smudgy?"

Your mascara (and setting spray) had betrayed you, leaving dark trails down your cheeks and a slightly unhinged look.

"Your face is perfect," Hotch remarks dryly, like he was tired of you, he undoubtedly was. You were a handful after all. "Why are you avoiding my question?"

You let out a delighted gasp.

"Did you just say my face is perfect?" Leaning over the console, you tap his nose with your finger. "You're just the sweetest."

The look Hotch gives you is flat, expectant as if he knows just what you were trying to do.

"Okay, okay, fine, it was just a terrible date. Like, Hotch, I'm talking disaster-level bad. He made fun of my job, ate like a toddler, and his truck? He wouldn't shut up about it." Your hands are now shuffling through the contents of your purse in a panic. "And now, I can't find my keys."

"Your house keys?"

A breath of frustration flows from you, fingers pulling through your hair as you nod. "Dang it."

You felt a slight unraveling in your usual poise, and the panicking that came with it. Hotch's hand landed on your shoulder, his thumb grazing across your collarbone.

"Hey, it's fine. It's late, and you're upset. You can stay at my place tonight, I'll crash on the couch, and we'll find your keys in the morning."

He made everything seem so simple.

"I'm not upset," you insist, lips pursing as you angle your body just enough to feel his touch more fully.

His hands felt right on you.

He chuckled quietly, his thumb tracing a path from your shoulder to brush away the solitary tear beneath your eye that you hadn't noticed before.

"Must be a raindrop," you shrug. Hotch's soft laugh tells you he doesn't quite buy it. "Are you sure you don't mind me staying over?"

"I'm certain."

"Okay."

"So why did your date make fun of your job?"

"Because," you start, your fingertip lazily sketching doodles on the misted car window, "when I was telling him about being an assistant and working for you, he implied that the only reason you hired me was so you had something pretty to look at."

"Well, he's not entirely wrong."

You let out a surprised giggle. "Hotch!"

You reach over the console, pinching his arm which he just laughed off, pulling into what you assumed was his driveway. You had never been to his house. It was nice. Really nice, the kind you'd find in movies—not imposing, but inviting, with its brick walls and stout brown pillars framing the porch.

You were even more surprised when you entered the house. The image you had of Hotch's house one of meticulous order, a place where you could hear the tick of a clock from rooms away. But this... this was a home. There were throw blankets casually draped over the couch, books overflowing, armchairs worn in just the right places.

You lean down, intent on stripping off the torturous heels, but a wobble has you teetering. Hotch is quick to step in.

"Here," he offers, lifting each foot in turn to his knee, skillfully undoing the straps and easing them off you.

Standing flat-footed, you suddenly feel much shorter, and you wonder if Hotch has ever seen you without them.

You look up at him, smiling cheekily. "My very own prince charming."

He ignored you and moved through the living room. "Do you want a pair of sweatpants?"

"Sharing clothes now, are we? I bet there's a clause against this in the employee handbook."

Hotch raises an eyebrow, "I don't think I need to remind you of the numerous times I've overlooked your creative interpretations of the handbook rules."

"So you're admitting to showing me favoritism?"

You plucked the sweatpants from his hands, not giving him an option to respond as you shuttled yourself into his bathroom. You changed quickly, trading your sopping wet clothes for Hotch's dry, warm ones.

You reentered the living room to find Hotch reclining on the couch with an ease that was new to your eyes. He, too, had slipped into something more comfortable—sweats and a form fitting grey long sleeve that threatened to distract you completely.

You dropped your purse onto the coffee table and settled next to him, maybe a little closer than you should have.

He let out a sound that was more a breath than a laugh, a sound that all the same made your heart flutter unexpectedly. "You've still got some, uh, makeup under your eyes."

He reached up to wipe it away with his thumb.

"It won't come off that way," you said, grabbing his wrist with a soft smile. "I have makeup wipes in my purse."

But he didn't hand you your bag like you would've thought, instead he dug through it, pulling out the wipes and starting to dab at your face. The softness of his touch felt disarmingly intimate, so gentle it coaxed your eyes to flutter more slowly, eyelids becoming more heavy.

Your head tilted downward and Hotch used his free hand to tilt it back up. "Stay still, or I'm going to poke your eye out."

"You're making me sleepy," you murmur, your voice a soft, drowsy hum, but then he moved the wipe to your lips and suddenly you were anything but.

He was even more gentle with your lips, if that was possible, wiping away the gloss like you were made of glass.

Your eyes snapped open, and you found yourself gazing into his warm, brown-sugared eyes, your heart thundering in your chest. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. How did you get so close? You weren't sure, but he was there, noses almost touching.

He pulled away the wipe, using his thumb to clean up left over gloss though you were sure there wasn't any. His hand paused there, resting on your lower lip like it was meant to be there. You felt every fiber of your being stand on high alert. You wondered what he was thinking.

Did he want to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him?

"Are you going to kiss me?" You asked, half-hopeful, half-daring, giving a microphone to your inner monologue.

He took a moment, eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes then back down again. "Yes."

It was certain. Like there was no doubt about it, but he didn't move.

"Okay, I'm ready," you breathed out, pulse roaring in your ears.

Hotch's laughter was a low and warm sound. You had heard it a lot tonight.

"You kill me," he said, and it wasn't patronizing—it was affectionate and genuine, and it made your whole body turn to mush.

Then his lips were on yours, and you were both laughing, the sound muffled by lips. It was tentative at first but it quickly morphed into something sweet and soft and perfect.

"Aren't you glad my date went terribly?" you mumbled into his soft skin.

"Devastatingly glad."

One thing was clear—Hotch was not going to end up sleeping on the couch tonight.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @averyhotchner @everythinglizzy @sky2nd

join my taglist here!

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #hotchner #hotch

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eternal-evergreens · 6 months ago

Text

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧JJK Men as Yanderes ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Post Format: Headcanons

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna, Mahito, Choso Kamo

Word count: Each piece is roughly 750 words

Warnings: implied sabotage (Gojo, Toji, Choso), invasion of privacy (Gojo), kidnapping (Gojo, Sukuna), murder (Geto), kidnapping mention (Nanami, Toji), suicidal ideation (Nanami), light gore (Gojo, Sukuna, Mahito), reader injury (Sukuna), threats of bodily harm/mutilation (Mahito), sexual assault (Mahito), implied murder (Choso)

Satoru Gojo

You're nothing special. Not compared to him, at least. With no long line of sorcery or blue blood running through your veins, your family is just about as average as it gets.

You're nothing special---not to Jujutsu society, anyway. But who gives a shit about that? To Satoru, you're more than special.

You're everything.

He's always been the strongest, and yet, when he's with you, he just feels so weak.

Like a schoolgirl fawning over her latest crush, Satoru often finds himself checking his phone while away on missions, hoping to see your name appear on his screen. It doesn't have to be anything special—even a picture of some ugly animal with the caption "That's u, lol." is enough to get him going. Just knowing you were thinking of him at all, even in an unflattering light, makes him feel lightheaded in a way not even battle can emulate.

It's weird. It's embarrassing.

But he can't get enough.

Satoru wants you more than he's ever wanted anything, and he wants you to feel the same way. He'd do anything if it meant winning your heart.

If you asked him to kneel, he'd kneel. If you asked him to beg, he'd beg. If you asked him to rip out a man's heart and present it to you, he'd ask if he should do so on a silver or gold platter.

If you asked him to let you go, however...

You sigh and fall back onto the couch. It'd been a week since your landlord mysteriously kicked you out, and Satoru took you in with a frankly suspicious eagerness. To say that he was an overbearing roommate was to put it lightly.

He'd follow you around the flat from room to room, enter your bedroom without knocking, and once, you even caught him sifting through your laundry. He wasn't even embarrassed about getting caught, let alone the fact that he had done it in the first place.

You decided to start searching for a new roommate after that.

"Y'know," Satoru says, slinging his arms around your shoulders---you hadn't even heard him approach. You quickly close your computer, which happens to have very clearly been showcasing cheap apartments in the area. "I could have just taken ya'. Snatched you up off the street like some kidnapper."

"What...?"

"---But I decided to play nice instead. I thought we could forge a real relationship that way. But you've just been pushing me away. I'm starting to think I've been too lenient with ya'. Like maybe I should have just locked you up instead."

"That isn't funny, Satoru."

"Who said I was joking?" You open your mouth to respond, but Satoru cuts you off before you get the chance. "You want dinner? I can order us takeout. Anywhere you'd like."

Drop it, his eyes say. You do.

That very night, you pack a bag and head to the nearest hotel. In the morning, you'll ask your job if they can transfer you to another city. For tonight, you'd like to just get a good night's rest without the lingering fear of waking up to his figure looming over you.

You wake up to familiar surroundings. It doesn't register as strange until you remember checking into a hotel the night prior. You shoot up to get a better look around. Sure enough, you're in your own bedroom, not the hotel's.

But how...?

You're sure you left last night. Did you dream it? You go to check your phone, but it's not there.

Just then, the door opens. "Oh, you're up," your roommate says.

"Satoru, what's---"

"I called you in sick for work today," he says casually, "and tomorrow. Actually, starting today, you're unemployed."

"What?!"

"Don't worry. I can take care of us. I've got more than enough money."

Satoru wants you more than he's ever wanted anything, and he wants you to feel the same way. He'd do anything if it meant winning your heart.

If you asked him to kneel...If you asked him to beg...

If you asked him to let you go, however...

"C'mon, baby, you know I can't do that," he'd say, arms around your waist and head in your lap. "Ask me for something else, anything. Just not that. Do you want a pony? We can get a pony."

"No---"

"What about a cat? Or maybe you prefer dogs? I could get a purebred if you wanted one. I know it gets lonely being in the house all by yourself."

"I want to go outside, Satoru."

"We could get a fish tank, I guess. Though I doubt they'd make good company."

"Listen to me---"

"Actually, maybe that's for the best. Wouldn't want to compete for my lover's attention in my very own home, you know?"

Suguru Geto

When he was at his lowest, Suguru thought of you. It kept him going. It kept him sane.

So, of course, you were the first person he asked to join him in the creation of the new world. His world.

"Our world," he said, the look on his face desperate, pleading.

You declined, of course. His ideals went against everything you stood for as a Jujutsu sorcerer. As a person.

He took it well---or seemed to, at least. He flashed you a plastered-on smile and released your hands from his, leaving you with no further fuss.

For a while, that seemed to be the end of it.

Life went on. Though you would occasionally catch wind of his nefarious deeds, dealing with such things never fell within your purview. In fact, it almost seemed as if the higher-ups were purposefully keeping you from any cases that involved him.

You had all but forgotten about that fateful evening when a call from the higher-ups had you booking a flight to Okayama.

Apparently, there had been a sudden influx of cursed spirits in the region. And as the lead researcher in cursed phenomena, you were called to the scene.

You had already been given a file outlining the happenings, but out of courtesy, Yumi, the assistant supervisor assigned to the case alongside you, filled you in regardless.

"It's not that there's a higher rate of cursed spirits being born in this area," she said. "They're migrating here."

"Hmm," you look over the map on your tablet again; colour-coded dots mark the locations and grades of each (presumed) non-native sighting. The spacings are far from natural. They seem to have been made with intent, almost as if forming a pattern of some kind.

"We've set up a barrier to track the arrival of new cursed spirits. Nearly every curse from fourth to semi-first grade in the neighbouring towns has been coming here. Some of our windows have even spotted them moving together in groups."

"Was there anything strange about their behaviour? Like moving in single-file lines, with strange movements, or perhaps even speaking?" Yumi lights up.

"Yes, actually! They were all---"

Your screen flashes, suddenly restarting the tablet without your input.

"Huh...?"

"[Last]-San..." Your supervisor almost whispers. You tear your eyes from your screen to hers as she weakly holds up her tablet to you.

Over four hundred cursed spirits have been spotted crossing the Okayama border within the past fifteen minutes.

Your tablet finishes restarting, and you scramble to view the map again, hoping what you just saw was nothing more than a glitch.

The loading screen seems to take ages to complete, but when it does, the map shows exactly what you feared.

Oh. You get it now.

The pattern it was trying to spell out. It's "愛"

---"Love".

You hear a scream.

"Ah, it's good to see you again. How long has it been now?" A voice---one you're all too familiar with---says. "Two, no, maybe three years?" Suguru is wiping blood off of his hands. You don't want to look down. You can't look down.

Yumi is dead.

You looked down.

"I'm not sure why I phrased that like a question I didn't know the answer to," he says, smiling in a way that makes your heart ache. "I've been keeping track down to the days, you see."

"Were you...behind this?" You've never been one for combat. You can't use reverse cursed technique to save Yumi. You can't fight to save the others. There's nothing you can do.

You've never felt so helpless.

"I did," he admits casually. "I recently got my hands on a new curse. First-grade 'Pied Piper', its technique creates a sort of call-and-response between itself and other curses of a lower grade through a musical frequency only other curses can perceive. With that technique, I can manipulate the movements of curses I haven't yet acquired without leaving my residuals behind."

"But if it's coming from the technique of a curse you possess, your residuals would still be left behind," you counter.

"Ah, as quick on the uptake as always, [First]," he praises. "You're right, or you would be if this curse were under the control of my curse spirit manipulation. No, this curse was tamed, not subjugated."

"Why are you telling me this?"

He's going to kill you once he's finished explaining.

"I've always appreciated an inquisitive mind," he says. "especially when it's your inquisitive mind." Your mouth forms a vague 'O' shape as the realisation dawns on you.

"愛"

"Love"

...You're never getting away.

Kento Nanami

Nanami is someone who has never really been all that content with life.

Sorcery sucks. Corporate sucks. Japan sucks.

Sometimes, on his darkest days, Nanami thinks about what would have happened if he had joined Haibara—or better yet, if he had never even been born in the first place. If the world is this awful, wouldn't it be better to have never experienced it at all?

But then he met you, and suddenly, the world didn't seem all that bad.

Don't get him wrong, it's not like your presence suddenly made all the wrongs in the world right, but it did make him feel like they all mattered just a little bit less. Like maybe all this suffering was worth it, if it also meant he could see you smile.

So, of course, he'd do anything to keep you safe. To protect that smile.

The easiest way to ensure that, of course, would be to clip your wings. To lock you away somewhere where only he could reach you. A songbird that only sings for him, a dove in a birdcage.

He'd treat you like royalty, of course. His job pays well, but he's a somewhat frugal person by nature, so he has plenty of savings lying around. Whatever you wanted, he'd get you.

As long as you stayed safe, he couldn't ask for anything more. Even if you didn't love him, as long as your smile could be protected, that would be enough.

He's in the middle of researching what kind of restraints would cause the least damage and irritation to your skin when he realises what a grave mistake he was about to make.

'If the world is this awful, wouldn't it be better to have never experienced it at all?'

What if...

What if you started feeling that way, too?

What if, in trying to protect your smile, he ends up being the one to take it away?

He could offer you all the material things in the world, but if it comes at the price of your freedom, it might still not make you happy. After all, it was the same for him.

If money didn't make him happy, why would you be different?

Sorcery sucks. Corporate sucks. Japan sucks.

Nanami is worse.

He doesn't deserve you. It's with this thought in mind that he begins to avoid you. He refuses to meet your gaze, leaves the room when you enter, and declines all missions that involve your presence.

He feels like he's going crazy. Separation has made him sloppy and reckless. He comes home with more injuries, and a part of him thinks he deserves it.

Bags begin to form under his eyes as two weeks go by without the haven of your presence. He sees you everywhere now. The girl across the street is dressed in a substyle you like. The model in that magazine has your eyes. The cafe down the block is having a special on your coffee order.

"Nanamin, why're you avoiding [Last] all of a sudden? They do something to you?" Nanami scoffs at the remark but doesn't answer. He turns to leave but stops when Gojo continues. "Y'know, they actually came cryin' to me about it. Said they had no idea why you suddenly started treatin' 'em like they've got the plague." Nanami turns to look at Gojo, who's fiddling with his blindfold. "You should make up with them soon. Can't leave our cute little assistant supervisor feeling so down, you know?"

Nanami hates to admit it, but Gojo might be right.

'What if, in trying to protect your smile, he ends up being the one to take it away?'

Fuck. He can't do anything right.

He really doesn't deserve you, but what can he do? If he leaves, you won't smile anymore, but if he stays, you'll be smiling at a monster.

But what can he do? He'd do anything to protect that smile.

Even if it means hiding his fangs.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji is a man who takes what he wants and doesn't care if he has to get his hands dirty in order to take it.

Naturally, this applies to you as well.

It's strange, he's never wanted someone as badly as he wants you. Not his past flings, not even his late wife.

Toji is no stranger to romance. He was married, after all. He knows love. It's a familiar feeling.

That's why he's inclined to believe that what he feels for you isn't love. No, what he feels for you is far too primal to be love. It's rough and all-consuming. It's nothing like the soothing feeling he had around his wife.

Love wraps around one's heart like a warm blanket. This wraps around his heart like a python.

But if it's not love, what is it?

Actually, scratch that. It doesn't matter.

Whatever it is, it's some form of desire. And if he desires something, then all he has to do is take it.

Yes, it's better to keep these kinds of things simple rather than getting tied up in technicalities.

There is a problem, however. He'd like nothing more than to just lock you up and keep you for himself, but with his somewhat unstable income and his habit of bouncing around from place to place, that isn't exactly feasible.

Ah, what to do...?

He could settle down or stop spending his money as soon as he earns it, but where's the fun in that?

No, rather than try to adapt to your lifestyle, he'd much rather force you to adapt to his. Still, he supposes some sacrifices will be necessary, as his lifestyle is currently only fit for one.

You'll have to quit your job since you'll be moving around from place to place alongside him, but he'll just take on some more jobs to cover the extra cost; it's no big deal.

He proposes the idea to you so matter-of-factly that it's almost as if he believes you to have already agreed to the plan beforehand. In reality, this is your first time hearing of such a thing, and you're so stunned that you momentarily lose your voice.

You've known this man for two, no, maybe three weeks, and yet he's asking you to drop everything and come overseas with him? You're not even friends! He's just a regular at the cafe you're employed with.

It dawns on you that he must be joking, so you chuckle awkwardly and avert your gaze. Perhaps you simply haven't known him long enough to gauge his sense of humour. You feel a little embarrassed for nearly having taken him so seriously.

Then, he shows you the plane tickets.

Bewildered, you end up being more blunt than you perhaps meant to: "I'm not going," you say, pushing his tickets back to him.

"Sweetheart," he says dryly. "I'm not asking." You shoot him a strained, confused smile, which quickly morphs into a more genuine one as the door chimes.

To think you'd ever be happy to serve a customer. It's a foreign sentiment, but if it means an end to this strange interaction, you'd happily serve a hundred---no, maybe even a thousand customers.

You take their order and get to making their drink, shooting quick glances at the man---Toji, you think---from behind the bar.

He hasn't taken his eyes off of you.

It's days like this that you wish the company wasn't so stingy about hiring more than one person for shifts. You're about to clock out, and if that man is going to stay until closing, you'd really like to have a coworker walk you back to your car.

It's twenty minutes until closing when Toji finally leaves. You let out an unconscious sigh of relief, feeling your shoulders relax. That was weird, but you shouldn't have to see him again, right? He's going overseas tomorrow, after all.

Yeah, you won't see him again. Thank goodness.

It's with that thought in mind that you flip the "We're open!" sign to its side and lock the doors. It's only 6 PM, but the fall season means it's already dark. You shiver from a cool breeze as you make your way towards your car at last.

Huh. Flat tire.

Ryomen Sukuna

Those who know of Sukuna will inevitably feel sorry for anyone who happens to catch his gaze. Sorcerer or not, none will ever possess even a fraction of the strength he carries, and for someone like Sukuna, that means you're no better than a bug to be trampled on.

What a poor, pitiful thing you are. You must be treated more like a pet than a person. A plaything for him to toy with, to discard once you've ceased to entertain.

However, this interpretation couldn't be more wrong.

What others fail to realise is that Sukuna would never waste his time on someone he doesn't consider his equal. Weak as you may be, there's something about you that seems different in his eyes.

Like a precious gem left unpolished, there's a certain allure to you that only a trained eye could see, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone else stake a claim on you first.

No, he'll be the one to bring out your true potential.

Sukuna has never met someone worthy of being his companion. This has never bothered him, however. Loneliness was not something he was familiar with. There are those who have tried, of course, to prove their worth, to stand by his side, but none have ever moved him.

None until you, that is.

The funny thing is that you don't even try to win his attention. You never once asked for his gaze to land upon you. And yet, he can't bring himself to look away.

Sukuna doesn't know what to do with you. You make him feel things he's never felt before.

Is this weakness? Is it love?

Is there a difference between the two at all?

Should he kill you? Should he keep you?

What can he do to make these feelings go away? What can he do to ensure they never go away?

In exchange for not pillaging your homeland, the townspeople offer you up as a sacrifice. It was Uraume's idea.

At midnight, you're dragged out of the comfort of your home and tied to a stake, where you stay for hours. By dawn, you've worn yourself out with struggle, dried blood sticking to your hands and the ropes around your wrists, when a white-haired stranger comes to collect you.

The stranger undoes your bindings, but only the ones keeping you bound to the pole. You're dragged along like a dog on a leash for countless hours until you eventually arrive at the largest estate you've ever seen in your life. It's midday when you're untied and allowed to bathe. The warm water releases all the tension from your aching muscles, and as you bathe, the white-haired fellow replaces the garments you arrived in with robes made of fine silk.

The stranger's name is Uraume, they tell you. They'll be taking care of you until their master is ready to meet with you.

"What happens after that?" you ask tentatively.

Uruame flashes you a smile that refuses to answer.

Before you know it, a full week has passed you by. You're still yet to see this so-called master, but Uraume tells you not to worry. After all, the master has already seen you lots of times, they say.

The thought of being watched in secret sends a shiver down your spine.

Though the prison is large, you're confined to only one wing of the estate, and after a week of having nothing to do but wander, you have the entire layout memorized. Bored and unattended, you decide to venture out into the unknown past the garden's gates. There, you come face-to-face with the largest man you've ever laid eyes upon.

A hulking figure with four arms and fiery pink hair turns to you, and in an instant, you fall to the ground, only vaguely aware of the blood pooling around you and the pain across your chest.

In truth, Sukuna had tried to kill you, but his technique missed your vitals. It takes him a moment of watching your blood ooze out of the open wound to realize he did it on purpose. Before he even realizes it, he's picked you up in his lower arms and applied reverse cursed technique to your injury. You've lost consciousness, and your pulse is weak, but you aren't dead. Relief floods through Sukuna's veins as he listens to your soft breathing.

From that day on, you're never to leave his side unless absolutely necessary. From that day on, Sukuna has someone worthy of standing by his side, not as a servant, nor a pet, but as a companion. From that day on, Sukuna has a lover.

Whether you like it or not.

Mahito

As a curse born from the hatred and fear humans feel towards their own kind, Mahito relishes humanity's anguish and despair. He kills without a second thought, not caring who he hurts or who gets swept up into his path of mass destruction.

So why is it that this particular human sways him so? Why is it that he thinks your soul looks pretty, just the way it is? Why does he want to touch you but not to warp you beyond repair?

Why does he want you to look at him? Why does he want to scoop your eyes out of your sockets so that you can never look away?

To be a curse is to always follow your own desires, no matter how contradictory or inconsistent---that's the motto that Mahito lives by.

So, of course, this philosophy applies to you as well.

It doesn't make sense, and he doesn't understand it. But that doesn't matter to him. Why would it? He's a curse, and curses take what they want. What he wants is you, so, of course, he has to take you, too.

Mahito doesn't spend long watching you before he makes his move. First, he has to check if you can even see curses to begin with. If you can, that'll make things easier. But if you can't...well, that'll be fun too.

He bumps into you at the train station around 2 AM. It was a late night at work, and you're now dead on your feet. There's no one around, so it's the perfect time for him to test you. He taps your shoulder with a smile.

If you don't react, he starts feeling you up, talking aloud about how much he wants you as his hands roam your body.

"Mm, you're so weak," he says, palm on your stomach. "Look at you, all unguarded. If I wanted to, I could take your soul and just—" he squeezes the flesh on your abdomen. "—until you go splat! Hmm, but I don't really want to do that. I wonder why?" His hand trails down to your hips, brushing past—but not quite landing on—your private areas.

"It's weird, isn't it? You can't even see me. You don't even know I exist. But I know you exist." He grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers together. "Humans usually wear rings when they're married, right? I wonder why you don't have one? You're such a catch," he giggles. "Ah, well, I guess it's better for me. Less work, y'know?Though, I would have liked to see the look on your face, coming home to dear, sweet hubby, all mangled up in your living room. I wouldn't even bother transfiguring him. No, I'd want you to see his face clearly, all contorted in pain with his guts splayed out all over the floor."

He follows you home. You still can't see him, but you at least seem a little aware of his presence, with the way you keep glancing over your shoulder, randomly picking up the pace and taking more turns than necessary.

How fascinating! You can't see him, and yet you can sense him? He's swooning already.

"Don't worry, [First]," he says, arms around your shoulders as you fumble with your keys. "You'll be able to see me soon. And after that, you're never getting rid of me."

If you do react, however, he holds himself back, opting to strike up a lighthearted conversation with you instead.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing here all alone?" He asks. "Don't you know the subway is dangerous at night?" You visibly bristle, clearly on guard. He grins.

"Do you need something?" You ask, clutching your bag to your chest and stepping back. His grin widens, easily closing the distance you've just created.

"You're lonely, aren't you? All you do is work; you don't even have any friends! It's kind of pathetic, really. That's okay, though, I like you anyway. I might be the only one."

"What do you---"

"I could help you, you know. Ease your loneliness, maybe?" He's touching you now. Nothing outright inappropriate, but you could smell his intentions from a mile away.

"No thanks," you say. The train stops, and you hurry off the platform. Fortunately, the stranger doesn't get off with you. He waves at you as the doors close, and you run all the way home.

Finally feeling safe, you don't bother to do anything more than kick off your shoes before collapsing on your bed. It creaks under your weight, then creaks again. You freeze, your eyes shooting open.

"Heya," the stranger says. "Fancy seeing you again."

Choso Kamo

If you were to describe him in one word, 'inexperienced' may be your best bet.

Though it's true that he has 'lived' for over one hundred and fifty years, he spent most of that time as a cursed womb, unable to truly experience the outside world for himself. Even after being incarnated and absorbing the memories of his host, Choso finds himself unable to relate to any of his body's experiences. He knows what love is and what lovers do, but only from a technical standpoint. To actually experience it is something he's never even dreamed of doing.

So, of course, when he starts feeling these things for you, he's unable to properly put a label on them. At first, he thinks he's sick, which isn't unreasonable, considering his rather long list of symptoms (fever, shakes, sweats, heart palpitations, and clouded mind, he notes dutifully).

However, that idea is quickly shut down. Being a cursed womb death painting, it's highly unlikely that he even can get sick; plus, his symptoms only seem to surface when you're around (or when he's thinking of you, which, admittedly, is often).

Did you curse him? No, you don't have a technique like that.

Then, what...?

It takes him a somewhat embarrassingly long time for him to realise the truth behind his feelings. It isn't until after he catches himself staring at your lips and thinking about how soft they'd feel against his that he concludes he likes you.

So, he's figured it out. Now what...?

Choso searches through his host's memories in an attempt to figure out how to woo you. Unfortunately for him, his host was a frat boy with commitment issues who knew more about one-night stands than how to build the foundations for an actual relationship.

So, Choso consults Yuki Tsukimo, who he, with his very limited circle of friends, considers to be an expert.

As expected, Yuki is ecstatic at the news that Choso has found his type. Immediately, she's giving an impromptu lecture on the ways of the heart.

"First, you have to figure out their type," she says, wagging a finger. "If it's a match, you're all good. If not, you either need to give up or double down."

Through Yuki's mentoring, Choso learned the general rules for signalling romantic interest. Flowers, chocolates, walks in the park, walks on the beach—a lot of walking in general, actually—candlelit dinner, pick-up lines—he's got it all memorized.

The problem is that his throat gets dry, and his knees lock up when he so much as thinks about talking to you.

So he takes to following you with his eyes instead.

"It's just until I gather the courage to talk to them," he tells himself. "I'll stop once I figure out their type."

Right, if he can't ask you about your interests, he'll just have to observe them instead.

So, he watches you. All the time. Eventually, he all but forgets about his previous plan of it being a temporary habit.

It's just so...addicting. Watching you go about your day like normal. Completely unaware of his presence in the shadows.

He learns about your hobbies, your interests, what kind of shows you like, your favourite foods, whether you still keep stuffed animals in your room, and more. He has a mental folder of all your likes and dislikes. And while there are some things he’s not able to learn, some places he’s not able to follow, it’s enough. Just knowing this much is perfect.

He doesn't do anything. He doesn't plan to, either. He’s content with just watching. It's comfortable like this. He doesn't want anything to change. So, he forgets about stopping, and instead sinks even deeper into his newfound obsession.

If he had it his way, things would stay like this forever. Him, never confessing, and you, never knowing. But, unfortunately, fate had other plans in mind.

It was 10:15 AM, and you were at a local coffee shop by yourself when the barista handed you their number with your receipt. You shyly accepted, and just a day later, the two of you had plans for a date the next week.

Unfortunately, your 'date' canceled last minute and blocked you with no explanation.

It's a good thing, then, that your good friend Choso just so happened to bump into you, lending you his shoulder to cry on.

Well, there's no reason to waste a good dinner reservation, right?

You never do go back to that cafe, but if you did, you'd find the barista missing from the register.

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eccentricwritingbaby · 11 days ago

Text

baby finn series, welcome home

lando norris x wife!mom!reader

series masterlist

summary - your young family of three has now added another little piece of joy.

masterlist

the hospital lights shone as dim as they could get and cascaded along your tired, slumped body. you stared off towards the hum of monaco, out the window, taking in the peace that has overcome your mind. even though the next few months of juggling a newborn as well as a toddler would be difficult for your young family, the physical struggle was now over for yourself, and you and your husband had welcomed a lovely and healthy baby girl into your growing home.

calmly coming into the world on a crisp december night, eleanor cisca norris, approached your lives bringing nothing but love and a little extra chaos. but ‘what would the norris family be without a small riot?’ your husband had ironically asked while you were soothing the crying baby for what felt like the hundredth time. having done this once before, your mom skills were at a high, swaddling game down, and breastfeeding locked in. your husband was also in his element, finally having his baby girl.

you turned your attention away from the window and in the direction of the now two-time father, currently soaking in skin to skin time with his baby, sitting in the quietest corner of the room. she laid her peaceful head on his bare chest, sleeping soundly to the rhythm of his heartbeat. he spoke to her in the calm solace that he only reserved for you or finn, now adding little eleanor, or lola as he has elected to nickname her, to that list. you watch in awe, your heartrate picking up slightly as you feel yourself fall in love all over again with the man before your eyes, watching his gentle mannerisms that you had seen once before with finn in this exact hospital. he catches your eye, sending you a tired smile, and holding lola just a tiny bit tighter, as if once he lets go, she may slip away.

your eyes are dry as you keep yourself from blinking, scared the moment will end if you do. as if he can read your mind, lando gives you a soft nod, telling you in your own telepathic language of love that, it’s alright, we’re here, get some sleep.

one thing that he will never communicate without making sure that you hear it is whispered out as you begin to close your eyes, “i love you, y/n,”

“i love you too, lan,” you whisper back, as sleep and exhaustion win their battle against your mind and heart.

the morning is brighter than normal, your baby girl now a whole day old, you and lando getting back into the swing of a newborn - having been woken up every two hours throughout the night - and yet the excitement stands. today was the day that finn would arrive at the hospital and get to meet his baby sister.

you held lola in your arms, lando sitting next to you on the bed with one arm wrapped around the both of you. his other hand gently strokes your own arm, holding you close, and attempting to give you all of his appreciation in the world.

“you did so good, love,” he whispers into your temple before placing a soft kiss there.

“thank you, baby,” you sigh, exhaustion still hitting you, “when will finn be here?” you ask, not taking your eyes off the lovely lady in your arms.

“my dad said they’ll be here soon,” he whispers, eyes not leaving little lola either, “said finn was bouncin’ off the walls to come see us,” he chuckles.

“i believe that,” you laugh, “the little guy is so excited to meet her,”

as if lola could hear the conversation about her big brother, she begins to squirm in your arms, letting out a melody of baby gurgles as your husband and you swoon. lando begins to coo at the little girl as you turn to admire him instead. fatherhood always looked damn fine on him, and always will. a small knock on the door jolts the two of you out of your newborn babymoon, and instead towards lando’s parents and a sweet little boy wiggling around in his papa’s arms.

“hi, bubs!” lando excitedly whispers as he removes himself from the bed and heads to his firstborn, taking him from his own father, “daddy missed you baby,” he giggles, kissing all over finn’s face.

“i miss you, daddy!” finn lets out between laughs as his father continues to kiss his entire face. cisca and adam eye the little girl in your arms and both ‘awe’ at the sight. they head over to you, and your eyes are already welling up at your firstborn son.

“would you like to hold her?” you ask in the direction of the two parents, and adam steps slightly back as his wife nods her head.

“shouldn’t finn hold her first?” she asks tentatively, still reaching her arms out for the baby.

“i would prefer to hold him right now while you soak in some newborn time,” you laugh with the handoff between you two. she sighs at the sight of the small baby in her arms, wrapped in pink with a small bow hat adorning her head. adam wraps an arm around his wife as they smile, before he moves to take his own son in his arms, leading lando to plop finn on the bed and let him crawl towards you.

“hi baby,” you sniffle as you hold him, emotions at an all time high.

“why you cry, momma?” finn asks loudly, leading your overprotective husband to snap his head towards you.

“i’m just so happy to see you, baby. momma missed you,” you let out a quiet sob along with a chuckle, lando coming over to kiss your forehead.

“when will your parents be in, y/n?” adam asks you as he pulls you into a gentle hug of his own.

“they’re catching a flight tomorrow, should be at our house when we get back there,” you softly say, rocking finn in your arms as he cuddles into you, “they’re going to stay with us for about a week to help out a bit,”

“that’s good,” cisca sighs, still entranced by the newborn in her arms.

“do ya wanna know her name, mum?” lando quietly whispers, perching himself back on the bed to hold you and finn. she nods softly, carrying herself with such grace as she always does.

“eleanor cisca norris,” you let out as she snaps her head to the both of you.

“oh my,” she sighs, “you two don’t know what that means to me,”

“you’ve beyond been there for me during this pregnancy and finn’s, it was only right,” you nod. she hands little lola over to adam and pulls you both into a hug as she tears up.

“thank you, both,”

“of course, mum,” lando sighs, tears pricking his eyes as well.

“is it time for the little man to hold his baby sister?” adam asks, holding the baby out to you. you nod gently, rearranging the way finn was sitting on your lap in order for lola to be placed on top of him. cisca quietly records the interaction with her phone as adam sets her onto finn, lando opting to hold her head for him, and you hold onto her body to help.

“woah,” finn lets out as he gets a close look at her.

“what do ya think, bubs?” lando whispers, eyeing the little boy in your lap.

“she’s really small, daddy,” he laughs, letting the whole room let out giggles too.

“she is, buddy, that’s why you need to be gentle with her, okay?” lando teaches his son.

“i will, daddy,”

“i know you will, bubs,”

two days later and you have returned home, basking in the extra help of your parents and lando’s, along with the plethora of gift baskets that had been sent over from drivers and teams and friends.

it was a calm evening, lando bouncing the quiet baby in his arms as your parents had retired to their guest room in order to catch up on jet leg. finn was playing around the living room under your supervision until the knock at your door had you moving. the little lightning bolt of a three year old had gotten there first, jumping up and down near the door - he knew exactly who was behind it.

“i wanna answer! i wanna answer!” he shouted with excited giggles.

you laughed in response while attempting to calm him, “okay, okay, but baby you need to remember baby sister is trying to sleep, alright? so let’s try and quietly welcome our guest,”

“otay, momma,” he lets out in a loud whisper as you giggle again, unlocking the door and stepping aside to let carlos and rebecca in.

“hola, finn,” carlos laughs as your baby boy pounces on him, “and hello to you too, y/n, you look well,”

“as good as i can do for still being in a diaper,” you all laugh as rebecca hugs you and you all head to the living room.

“aye, there she is,” carlos sighs at the sight of lando and lola, finn still clutching onto him.

“finn, baby, get off uncle carlos so he can see your baby sister,” you softly tell the boy, finn immediately climbing down from him and over to rebecca as she scoops him up into her awaiting arms.

lando exchanges the baby into his friend’s arms, looking on with love and care as he leads you over to the couch and wraps you in his own embrace. carlos and rebecca sitting on the couch across from you both, holding your two most precious gifts, and staring on in awe. lando squeezes you a little tighter, kisses your cheek, and lays your head to rest against him.

“y’know mate, you look really good as a godfather,” your husband speaks up, causing the couple across from you to snap their heads up.

“and you look beautiful as a godmother,” you add in rebecca’s direction.

“what?!” they both respond with tears in their eyes, clearly ecstatic about the news, and obviously the perfect match to be elected.

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vieoeil-riae · 25 days ago

Text

take you down with me

steb/fem!reader

warnings: NSFW, dry humping, making out, selectively mute!steb, 18+ MDNI, 3.1k words

synopsis: Both of you think the other might have died in the battle for Piltover, so you get emotional and fuck in a broom closet when you see each other again. Sounds fair, no?

read on ao3 | ao3 profile | ao3 collection

It had been two days since the war ended, a miniscule amount of hours since the retreat of the Noxian soldiers following the death of their leader. The dead had to be collected, the wounded had to be tended to.

As someone with some amount of medical knowledge, Steb had immediately fallen into line attending to the wounded. He supposes his bedside manner was definitely below standard, the man having grown even quieter in the wake of all the death and displacement. It kept his hands busy however, and it kept his mind away from you.

When the fighting broke out he wasn’t sure where you’d ended up. Though there had been civilian evacuations, there was no guarantee you’d even managed to get on one of the airships.

For all he knew, you could be face down in the streets, another littered body buried under many others. Steb shivered at the thought, the pallor of death imagined on your face made him queasy and he couldn’t be throwing up on patients. So he shoved the thought down, drowning it in the wounds of his comrades and fellow city-goers alike.

Just a few days without you were hell, though, and he’d already had a taste of it several months ago when you’d frowned at him and averted your gaze — avoiding him for almost a week after Caitlyn’s strike team weaponised The Gray.

But that was a silly worry then, that you wouldn’t come back to him, because back then there was always the chance you would. Now, there was always a chance you’d be lost to him forever, and that cut much, much deeper.

Steb worried his lips as he debrided a fellow enforcer's wound — gruesome work, both for him and the patient — his careful hands easing out the shattered fragments of a Noxian blade from a wound on the man’s thigh. The man hissed, and so did Steb.

It smelled awful, but if he concentrated hard enough he could imagine how you smelled instead. The scent of your body soap, your perfume, your natural scent, all mixed together into a smell he could almost taste. God, how long had it been since he smelt something other than rubbing alcohol and infection?

Not that there was anyone to complain about that to. The only person who wasn’t you, that could understand all of his gestures without a long game of charades and short words was both dead and a traitor of the state. Steb swallowed around the memory of the way her ginger hair fell over her eyes as she slumped to the floor with a bullet between her eyes.

You’d understand, one look and you’d have him in your arms and muttering about how he really ought to quit. You’d trace the shape of his eyes and know him, it was the most relaxing game in the world and the prize for winning made it golden. To get him like that… without the words, it always made his heart flutter.

Steb held a sigh in the back of his throat, despite the summer heat the atmosphere was frigid. You would warm him up nicely, let him drift away in your soft skin, the swell of your breasts, the chub of your thighs. Two days of barely sleeping, you sounded like heaven.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps, a regular noise around the hall that had been turned into an impromptu medical care station. He payed no mind, still lost in his thoughts and in his work.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Running, also plenty familiar — especially on the first night.

“Steb!” Oh, the lack of sleep must really be getting to him.

“Steb!” A warm hand came to rest on his shoulder, too gentle to jostle his work. A familiar sense of care, but also maybe he was hallucinating. He stared at his hands, when had he finished with the man’s wound?

“Steb…” Melodic and warm, fond like the hand that reached up to tilt his chin towards you.

Not making things up in his head then. Steb’s eyes widened at the sight of you, perfectly fine and haloed by the setting sun through the broken window.

His eyebrows pinched and his lips fell open just enough for you to see a sliver of his tongue. The way he stared at you was precious, like he was afraid to look away lest you vanish. You smiled fondly back, he must’ve been worried — Steb had a strong sense of duty, both to his work and you, sometimes at once, like the past few days.

Steb’s face shifted again, blinking several times before searching your face desperately like he was trying to drink in your whole visage at once. You flustered, even in strained circumstances, he certainly knew how to make you feel wanted.

His hands gripped at your wrist, one thumb digging into your pulse. He rested there for a moment, his eyes glazing over with focus as he felt for the steady thrum of life there — finding it and latching on like it was the only thing in the world.

The frills decorating his cheeks fluttered, a ripple that spread across his cheekbones. You followed it closely, rhythmically, as it almost copied your heart beat. Following it further, you found his ears pinned closely to his skull. Worried must’ve been an understatement, then. You frowned slightly.

Steb’s eyes met yours as you traced his frills again. The energy you found there was intense, thick with a multitude of wants. Turning his head and tugging at your wrist, you felt a soft kiss land over your pulse — the shape of Steb’s lips was unmistakable, thinner on the top and plumper on the bottom and always in a sort of mildly pouty frown.

You bit your own lip, staring intently at where his lips landed, where the projected trail of his kisses went. For a moment, Steb’s face grew somber, then soft in the most incredible way. So pretty, he was, even from where you stood above him; jewel-like eyes and soft, almost luminescent skin that looked so artful in the sunlight that poured in around you.

Taking advantage of where your hand ended up, you gently brushed his cheek. Exploratory, but known, you reached around to cup where the back of his head met his neck where your fingers found the small fins that trailed down his back.

With even more care, your thumb gently stroked the shell of Steb’s ear, tracing over its points. Under your touch, he shivered, eyes closed as he subtly twitched between leaning into the touch and pulling away.

A shaky sigh left his lips as he finally leaned into your touch. The way he opened his eyes and gazed at you was lethal; the intense glacier-blue of his eyes eaten up by his blown out, hazy blue pupils; the slump in his shoulders; the reverence that saturated every inch of his face.

You tilt your head subtly to the door, watching the twitch in his eyebrows and eyelids. They scrunched in worry, Steb’s head turning to look behind him again, at the patient he’d been tending to prior. You watch a little longer, letting his face speak.

The man on the floor behind him shrugged and rolled over. Steb looked back to you, searching your face also. You smiled again, cheekier, and nodded towards the door once more — your eyes focused on his, gazing at him through your lashes.

Sliding his hand around to hold yours, you pulled him up from his small stool. Steb let you, eyes shimmering as you walked hand in hand out of the door.

You dropped the collected facade the second the door closed behind you, gripping his hand tightly as you speed walked down the hall all but dragging him behind you. You heard him snort, and you smiled at the sound.

Your eyes spied exactly what you were looking for. A door slightly thinner than the others and less ornate. Crossing the hall with Steb in tow, though he looked more confused now — frills fluttering almost nervously — you carefully opened the door, listening for voices inside.

Waiting a second, you felt Steb press into your space behind you. His breath skimmed your ear as he listened alongside you and your teeth found your lips again, biting and pulling.

You deemed it clear, and possibly a little ungracefully, yanked Steb into the broom closet behind you and slammed the door shut.

In a flurry, you had his back pushed against the wall with your hands pawing at his front. Yet you refrained a moment longer to look in his eyes. Permission. You wanted permission to unravel in his arms and a sign that said he wouldn’t mind if he did the same.

His eyes seemed to glow a little brighter in the dark, and you could feel the way they traced from your lips to your eyes, to your lips again. Looking up again, this time through his lashes, Steb brushed his nose against yours; an invite.

You took it gladly, meeting his lips with your own. Just a few days without him had left you starving, the fear of having lost him plaguing your thoughts since you left, you drank him in.

The kiss grew less chaste and more desperate. You toyed at his bottom lip, plump and warm under your ministrations, listening to the way he sharply inhaled as you gently bit his lip. Steb’s hands dragged over your waist, needy, but it was a ghost of a feeling — he was refraining from touching you.

Frowning, you pulled away. Steb chased you as you left, lips unwilling to part with yours, eyes opening in confusion over your sudden absence.

He tilted his head with a concerned look. You settled your hands over his, and gently pushed them down to meet the flesh of your waist once before letting off and giving him the choice. His lips made an ‘o’ that turned into a bashful smile.

Steb wiped his hands on his jacket, he’d been fiddling with wounds, without handwashing (which he’d prefer) this was next best. One hand returned to your waist, but the other drifted up to your face, brushing stray hair from your eyes before carding through your hairline. Soft under his touch, you nodded in understanding.

Steb kissed the corner of your mouth, reveling in the way he could feel your smile, before trailing slow kisses across your jawline as if he was savouring it. You dragged your hands up his sides, draping them across his firm shoulders as he worked towards the junction between your neck and your jaw.

You shivered at the sensation, inhaling sharply when his teeth met a sensitive spot, and sighing when his lips soothed it.

In a shuffle, he’d turned you around — pressing you to the wall instead, caging you in as he wrapped his arm around you tighter. The hand in your hair remained there, but his other hand took a downward path, tracing the curve of your spine like it meant the world to him.

Against your neck, you felt his frills flutter; ticklish and delicious, you clocked how heavy Steb’s breathing had gotten, how his ear twitched when you gasped. Your own hand weaved into the back of his hair, brushing gently against the tiny fins that began to appear where the back of his skull connected to his spine.

“‘Door’s not locked.” You mumbled into his uncharacteristically messy hair.

“Mn.” Too late to stop now, Steb was long lost in you.

Your smell, familiar and so normal compared to everything around you. Your softness, the way your unbroken skin gave way to his touch. How warm you were, gasping and arching into him. There was no helping himself as he drank you in greedily, moving your shirt’s neckline and peppering your collarbones with nips and kisses.

You tilted your head, both out of pleasure and a need to give Steb the most area of exposed skin to lavish as you could.

“Steb…” You called breathily, the feeling of his tongue dancing over your sensitive skin making your knees buckle.

There was relief, there was need, and they brought both of you to the floor. Steb not once letting go as he followed you downwards.

If anything, it meant he could focus on groping you more. Pawing at your chest, while his other hand slid south to squeeze you your hip — having ended up pressed to your side as you were both brought to your knees. His head was spinning, touching you was dizzying every time but right now it was satisfying a desperate sort of hunger.

Taking a deep breath against your skin, he dragged you closer. You whined at the feeling of his bulge pressing against your hip, your cheeks flushing with heat as Steb’s eyes grew even hazier. Your combined panting filled the small closet, you were warmer now but neither of you could tell if the shivering was borne of coldness or bubbling desire.

Quietly, Steb whined, burying his face back into your neck — letting the frills that decorated his pretty cheekbones rub against your hot skin as a shiver traveled the length of his spine. He couldn’t tell if the pulsing he felt was his racing heartbeat or his throbbing cock, aching and needy.

For a moment, he pulled back. His smouldering eyes met yours and Steb thoroughly enjoyed the ruined look that swam in your lust-widened pupils. The marks and reddened skin were a delicious look on you, and it only served to make his cock feel heavier in his pants.

Steb’s head sunk back into your shoulder, biting and nipping with more forced than before — the way he seemed so intent on devouring you, tasting every inch of you that you offered, made you mewl.

You whimper, but don't resist as Steb moves to settle between your legs, all but haphazardly manhandling you with his needy grasp.

His ears flick at every sound you make. It was utter indulgence the way you hum and sigh and gasp, tantalising in a way that went straight to his cock. You sound so much better if you were even closer if that were even possible with the way he pressed your bodies flush.

Steb let out a sinful moan, grinding his throbbing cock against your clothed cunt, catching on your warm, pulsing clit. The noise and the way his hips buck into you has your eyes fluttering closed.

You shift, tightening your legs around his slender hips, moaning into his ear as you feel him grind harder against your cunt. He pants down your neck, and you feel the sweat and heat starting to creep into the miniscule gaps between you.

Teeth nip at your earlobe, nibbling so delicately it makes you shiver. They trace your jaw, kiss the nerves that lay under your ear and trail down your soft neck in what feels like worship. You grip Steb tightly, one hand twisting itself into his jacket while the other runs up the length of his spine before drifting towards his ear, petting the ends with a trembling eagerness.

It pays off as he gasps against the junction of you neck; his hips cant into you with a jolt. You can’t help but smile, pleased, as you trail your fingers feather-light across the delicate frills you could reach — watching as they fluttered out of sync at your touch.

He pulls back, flushed, with swollen lips that had felt so hot against your skin and looks at you with such wet eyes. God, he’s pretty when he’s needing it so bad.

Your hand travels in reverse, over his frills and then his ear and tangles in his hair, before you pull him into a deep kiss. It’s hungry and heavy and you swallow each other whole as Steb’s hip move sensually slow.

His hands find their way under your shirt, finally. His fingers skip down your sides like sparking electricity.

You moan into the kiss, pressing your warm cunt against his leaking cock in a way that makes him shudder and grunt, chasing his tongue. Your cunt throbs as he does much the same, but Steb-like — quieter, more intimate than wanton. You love it, he’s yours alone, you’re the only one who gets to hear him whimpering desperately into their ear.

His thumbs dig into your waist, holding you tighter, and you writhe in your spot at the feeling.

A breathless, loud moan bubbles from Steb’s throat as his face twists in pleasure against your mouth. He pulls back and you're graced with the pretty sight of his head tilted back and his mouth opening in a silent continuation of a moan. His cock ruts into you frantically, you hold him tightly, it feels like you’re reuniting after years — but no, a few days is all it takes to become so starved of you he becomes a sort of need-driven beast.

You can feel your own arousal pool in your underwear even better when he pushes you back into the wall hard, his hips bucking wilding against your cunt. You arch into the wild movement, deep, heady desire pooling in your gut as you angle yourself to catch you clit on Steb’s thrusts.

You pull away from the kiss, panting, and he takes the opportunity to bite down hard on your shoulder. You yelp and it only sends a pang of need to his gut. Your clit is throbbing and his cock aches as the feeling of his length rutting sloppily against your clothes folds.

Steb prying your thighs apart, gripping at your ass and pulling the soft plane of your cunt even closer. His thrusts become sharper, an unraveling held in the jerking motion that begged for just a little more.

He groans and you almost drool at the rare sound. Its muffled, in a familiar way, when he bites down on the bruised flesh of his bottom lip. He’s close. You grin through a whine at the thought, your hands tangling in his hair yet again and giving it a tug.

It pulls Steb’s face away from you enough to enjoy the way his eyes roll back as his hips move in an even more erratic pattern as he cums. The vigour of his thrusts as he rides his high tips you over the edge soon after, making you grip his hair as tight as he was gripping your ass.

Panting, still out of breath, you guide his lips to yours; a kiss strikingly sweet compared to the last god knows how long. You can feel him smile against you and the feeling is contagious. You know you both have each other, the world feels at peace again.

A/N: I figured out how to do the cool text I'm so proud of myself! (if I post this and it breaks I'm gonna lose it!) if u saw me on ao3 first ily

banner cr: @/cafekitsune

#posting this and running #arcane #steb arcane #steb x reader #steb arcane x reader #arcane steb #arcane x reader #arcane smut #arcane x reader smut #fem!reader #steb smut #steb arcane smut #steb

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teastyun · 2 months ago

Text

¨༺ the sweet taste of submission

arcane sevika x female reader pirate au (nsfw)

being blackmailed into piracy, you never expected anything less than cruelty to encounter you in your foreseeable future. but what happens if you become best friends with the captain's quartermaster? are you able to prevent any further feelings from developing?

a/n: happy release of season 2!! i'm watching the first arc at a public viewing event in my city with my closest friends and hope to win all the plushies hehe,, update: i did not win any plushies but i got a vi voodoo-doll from the series made by jinx and several other things including a coin with sevika on it 🥹

mastlerlist

walking into your crews' favourite tavern called The Last Drop, the hot and stuffy atmosphere immediately hits you as you're able to only her the chatting and brawling of your crew mates. the tavern is filled with almost your whole crew drinking and singing popular sea shanties as one of two guys would drunkly wrestle in the farthest corner of the wooden tavern, but your eyes only caught on Sevika at the biggest table through the dimmed lights talking to her mates despite all the commotion surrounding her.

Sevika is in her usual thin black linen shirt, where a few buttons were missing and her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing her slightly damaged prosthetic arm from today's battle. her other biological muscular arm looks taken up by scratches and bruises, which also coats her collarbone and cheek with hints of dried blood and forming bruises. her revealing muscular cleavage is layered with sweat, making it hard for you to look away from someone who was once only a close friend to you.

"y/n! you're in a for round or not?" your best friend calls over the loud noises of the crew from the table they managed to claim. your eyes left Sevika and followed the voice, where your friend held up a tankard of rum and deck of cards which were about to spill all over the table due to your already tipsy friend.

grinning, you pushed yourself through the crowd, desperately hoping no one saw you gawking at Sevika a minute ago. battling the hot and damp temperatures of the room, you opened a few buttons of your linen shirt beneath your leather vest before you sit down on the seat your friend saved you.

"at least try to not gawk at her like a nasty dog," your friend murmurs as they filled your tankard with rum and eye you with playful eyes. "eyes on the drink," you counter your friend who was about to spill your tankard.

you take a silent gulp of your drink and a mouthful of bread, before y'all's night officially start with your first round of poker, trying desperately to forget Sevika, who is plaguing your mind.

only a few weeks ago, you and Sevika were inseparable from the day you two were blackmailed to join piracy with Slico as your Captain. at first, you two started as mere sailors, but Sevika eventually became the Captain's trusty quartermaster. you, on the other hand, voluntarily remained the chef cook of the ship, loving your own big quarters that was daily filled with most of the crew eating whatever you managed to provide that day. Sevika would always stay in late in your kitchen, eating with you after the crew left and helping you wash up the mess of the day. you two were always touchy, especially when you two were alone in each other's quarters, separated from reality. she would always put her lower hand at your back when she reached to grab something next to you and rest her arm on your shoulder as you tell her your most private thoughts on anything. as much as she liked to touch you, you would always massage her sore muscles she requested after any battles (aching to hear her rare small moans casually escaping) and help her fix her mechanical arm anytime she's too tired for it.

the problem is, your liking for her didn't stop just there. recently, you've noticed the uneasy feeling in your stomach whenever she was with you, which you desperately tried to get rid off in order to save your friendship. you tried to put as much distance between you and Sevika as you could, which she slowly but surely noticed over time. confused by your actions, she also distanced herself from you. your once close friendship turned into confusion and slowly into unaccounted hatred. not only did you loose your friendship, but the romantic feelings for her grew even stronger due to the lack of interaction with her. and fuck, you hated everything about it. you're hyperaware of her presence anytime she's near you and you can't help but grow agitated at her presence that fills any room you're in.you even tried to fuck your horniness out of your system with several other women, but nothing hindered the constant thoughts you have of Sevika plaguing your mind. the image of her touching, groping, fucking you eft your knees weak at the mere thought of it.

as you sip from your tankard and relish the sweet burn in your throat, a gaze lingering on you burns into your consciousness. your first instinct is for your eyes to wander to Sevika, who's eyes seemed to be fixed on anything but you. as your eyes wanted to wander back to your group, all of a sudden you notice the tavern girl sitting down in Sevika's lap. her lacy white straps of her garment fell off her shoulders, revealing her bust to Sevika's sight, who grinned at her before her eyes knowingly set on you. questioning your gaze, her eyebrow arched as she kissed the woman's shoulder. her grey piercing eyes never leave yours as her lips trace her collarbone.

your breath starts to quicken up, not able to leave your eyes off of her kissing the woman's bare breasts as she moans and throws her head back, unaware of the game you and Sevika were playing in that moment with each other.

"i need to go," you tell your best friend, before you leave them the rest of your deck and finish the last drop of the tavern's burned rum, desperate for any numbing of the storm of emotions that were risking to bust inside of you. your friend stops mid-action to examine your unclear gaze.

"don't do anything stupid," they tell you with affection in their eyes, but respecting the distance you seem to need. you smile before you wave at your crew to call it a night. you desperately try not to throw another glance at Sevika as you exit The Last Drop and enter the humid night.

inhaling the smell of sea, you push the sweaty strands of hair off your face and exhale shakily before you try to process whatever happened inside the tavern.

desperate to feel the deck beneath your worn leather boots, you walk away from the loud tavern and head to your ship.

arriving at the docks, a mate on night watch nods at you before he returns to his duties. his gaze towards the vibrant town. the slight sway of the ship immediately calms your senses as you walk further on the ship.

stopping at the worn wooden railing, you rest your weight on your forearms and link your fingers to stop them from trembling. the sea always mesmerised you since you work for Captain Silco. it's truly the only place in the world that calms you merely by it existing. beneath the silver moonlight the sea glitters magically in reflection to it. the only sounds audible are the waves hitting the shore and the rafts of the ship occasionally flapping with a hue of wind, leaving you at ease.

the heavy creaks of wood beneath someone's feet rip you from your peace as you immediately recognised the person behind the sound, but your eyes maintain fixated on the waves dancing around the ship.

the person joins you as she turns to lean against the railing with her back to the sea, watching you as you still avoid eye contact with her.

"why are you avoiding me?" Sevika crosses her arms and cocks her head closer in your direction. her grey eyes slice you open and all the peace you just restored was instantly destroyed.

"why would you look at me with someone's tits up your face?" you counter bluntly, still avoiding any eye contact with her.

she chuckled merely at your response, "why, would you have preferred them to be your tits?"

shocked, your eyebrows furrow and you loosen your hands to grab the railing, "what? fuck, no!" your voice rises.

"then why would you care about whose tits are in my face?" her voice sounds unusually calm, sending you into a spiral of emotions as you turn to finally make eye contact with her for the first time since the incident at the tavern.

your hand automatically grabs the hilt of your sword tugged into the leather scabbard around your waist, needing any support as you try to challenge the grey eyes piercing into yours. Sevika notices your motion but chooses not to comment on it.

"answer my fucking question," she takes a step towards you and you can feel her breath mingling on your skin. "tell me, why are you avoiding me?" she says slowly, watching every move of yours closely.

unsure about how to react, you maintain the tense eye contact with her. you're trembling on the inside and your grip on the hilt of your sword hardens to avoid your muscles from starting to shake.

"because i can't stand your face," you lie to her. "i can't stand your presence anymore," you continue. taking a deep breath, you whisper with only truth "and i don't know how to feel about you anymore."

her eyebrows furrow as she comprehends your words. she seems to look for any signs of emotions on your face, before she bluntly says "i don't believe you."

"prove it." she pushes you with her biological arm, "fight me, love. show me how much you can't stand my presence."

you stumble a step back at the nickname, gripping your sword even tighter as you free it from its hilt. she pushes the sleeves of her shirt up as she stretches the sharp pointy fingers on her mechanical arm, watching every move of yours. you are a skilled fighter, but you prefer to not fight your beloved ones, especially those who you secretly adore to an extend that's slowly killing you inside.

Sevika flicks the blade of your sword against her mechanic arm, but you were quick to dodge her swinging her arm back. it only results in you two going further into the fight, leading her to leave several small cuts across your torso as you managed to dodge any of her attacks on you. across her eyebrow sat a small deep cut from the tip of your sword, the blood dripping down her face. the fight becomes more serious and deadly with each second you fight.

the eyeing of night watchers expands into a crowd including half the crew watching the ongoing fight. "looks like we've got an audience," Sevika mumbles as she smears the blood off of her eye with her bare hand.

catching your breath, you turn to examine the audience around you two. "i assume our fight has became more interesting than their gambling games in the tavern?" you say in a low tone only Sevika could audibly understand. she grins at your question before she counters, "how sweet of you to think that we haven't become their new gambling game, love."

"what?" you exclaim in surprise as she arches an eyebrow at you and her grin deepens. "Renni?" she calls into the audience, revealing a tall guy with a mechanic nose and green vibrant cords attached to it. he's handling any gambling games in your crew.

"yes, quartermaster?" he responds, resulting the chatter in the audience to silence immediately. "how many people bet on me winning the most rounds?"

the gambling master grins at her question. "the whole crew, quartermaster. all but one," he calls, eyeing the girl in striped red trousers and long blue braids dangling as she spins to him. her dirty gunpowder-covered hand shot into the air.

grinning, you watch Sevika narrow her eyes at the girl who's showing nothing but pride in her evaluation of you winning.

huffing, Sevika turns to you and mumbles, "don't get your hopes up, the Captain's daughter never won a bet in her life."

cocking your head at her damaged ego, you whisper with a wicked smile "i don't care," before Jinx intervenes with a pointed finger at you two, "actually, i've won several bets concerning you guys."

you watch Jinx with curiosity as Sevika only narrows her eyes at her again.

"several?" you question in confusion.

"how many times have you guys bet on us?" Sevika asks, her eyes wandering through the crowd as she watches everyone's reaction.

"i lost count." Renni states simply. "but it was usually whether you guys would fuck or kill each other." the crew laughs at Renni's blunt truth. you blankly stare at him as you loosen the grip on the hilt of sword. Sevika chuckles at the situation as she whispers to you, "so, they actually believe we'd fuck each other rather than kill."

"what's your take on that, y/n?" she continues as the tip of her sharp finger trails your jawline. the sensation of the light pressure clouds your mind and no words can be formed in your head all of a sudden. she knowingly smiles at your reaction and her finger travels beneath your chin as she guides your eyes to look at her, her breath mingling with yours.

your unoccupied hand pulls your hidden dagger out of your vest as you press it against her throat. her grey eyes darken as she grins at your unexpected move. she holds her hand in the air, showing any submission that was left in her.

"do you actually want to know?" you whisper as your eyes move between her narrow eyes and full lips despite her grin, the tip of your dagger pressing into her dark skin as a drop of blood runs down her neck.

her eyes darken at your question and the next thing you felt was her hand at your lower back pulling you on the hard wooden deck. your sword loudly slides across the wooden deck, hitting several obstacles of all kinds on its way.

she straddles your hips as her mechanic hand squeezes your throat and the biological one pins your wrists above your head, the dagger still in a tight grip in your dominant hand. "fuck," you murmur but wouldn't dare to break eye contact with her. "that was a dirty move."

"you can forfeit now, if you want." she suggests. "and why the fuck you wouldn't even dare to look at me all those weeks." she moves closer to whisper in your ear, "Jinx will loose her bet either way, may as well save your energy."

you gasp as a shudder ran down your spine as her breath tickled your sensitive skin beneath your ear. gathering all your strength, you try to pull your wrists out of her grasp. "i never yield," you say as she looks at you with the wicked smile of hers. your conversation was so quiet, only you two were able to hear each other as the crew chatted and the waves were dancing.

"i strongly recommend you to yield, love. save yourself some embarrassment," she tells you, but you're not having it. you try to lift your hips, but her core presses you even harder into the wood. "if you want me to yield, you have to make me," you whisper with a shaky breath that escapes mouth as you feel heat shooting down your core at the position you two are in. she quirks her eyebrow at you as she watches you writhe beneath her. your eyes wander down her neck to the her buttoned down shirt, revealing heavy breasts and pointy nipples through the thin linen. wandering down further, you see the swell of her core pressed into yours and you feel your breath becoming uneven.

"you're obviously loosing," she whispers. you squirm beneath her and your movements seem to affect Sevika as well. she presses her legs even harder against your waist, but can't help the heavy sigh that left her mouth as the scabbard around your waist seems to graze her core. "just yield," she said breathlessly as her eyes darken.

a shaky breath escapes your lips and you stop your squirming, visibly satisfying Sevika as her grip on you loosens. you immediately start fighting again and almost knock her off, but she grumbled "fucking stop," before she readjusted her grip on you and slid her leg beneath yours.

her mouth corners pull into a sly grin as she watches your reaction. your eyes went wide as you gasp, your warm and soft core directly pressing onto her knee. still, you try to push her off by trying to lift your hips, but the thin cotton of your brown trousers didn't do you any justice. your clit pulses at the friction and you try not to roll your eyes. she leans down to whisper, "what's wrong, love?" as her eyes switch between your eyes and your lips. "yield," she commands as her shining grey eyes pierce yours.

"no," you whisper and you feel her mechanical hand tighten around your throat. her knee pressed upwards and your head falls back as your eyes flutter closed from the friction you're experiencing down in your core. you name rolls of your tongue as you moan, arching your back as she readjusts her knee against you.

"i can basically feel your heat through your trousers," she whispers breathlessly, "you must be so wet right now."

shocked if anyone would hear you two, you gasp and tried to wiggle your wrists free, but miserably fail again. "what if anyone hears us?" you ask, but your eyes wouldn't leave hers to look around. that piercing gaze of hers results in another rush of heat spiking through your legs right into your core. "so, go on and yield," she tells you as she's grinning again, "so we can finish it in your quarters."

exaggerating her point, she presses her knee upward, sending your back arching. you almost forgot where you are, until crew mates were chanting Sevika's name. despite the crew's chanting, she keeps her gaze fixed on you as she closes her eyes to whisper against your lips, "please."

"yield, so i can finally fucking kiss you," she whispers breathlessly and you feel her lips grazing against yours. exhaling, you look at her with such intensity in your eyes, wondering if she really just said what you heard.

"fine," you murmur. smiling, she finally releases her hold on you as you push yourself up to yell, "i yield!"

standing, Sevika reaches out to help you stand up as the crowd cheers as if they've just won a triumph in a battle. you swear you heard a frustrated Jinx trotting off, leaving you chuckling in disbelief. the crowd disperses over the whole deck and Sevika whispers "i'll make it up to you, love."

"just," you start, "just shut up and hurry." you go to grab your sword as you push through the group of people. you hear her chuckle somewhere behind you and you can't suppress the smile that's growing on your lips. pushing your sword back into your scabbard, you walk down the stairs to your kitchen quarters with Sevika close behind you. her real hand rests on your lower back until you reach downstairs, away from any noise and other drunk pirates.

you turn around to pull her into an aching, hot and longing kiss. fuck, her full lips felt so soft compared to the rough and deep kiss, leaving you moaning as she bites your lower lip.

your sword hits the wooden table behind you as Sevika hoists you up on it. the kiss grows more frantic with every second, both of you sighing and moaning as the other would occasionally bite at the others lip. your arms slip behind her neck and her mechanical arm pulls you even closer to you as she stands between your thighs, which are hooked around her waist.

moaning, you grind against her trousers' seam, which you felt her press onto your core a few minutes ago. you break the wet kiss as your head falls back, feeling the perfect angle pushing against your clothed clit.

she grunts before her hands slip to hold each side of your hip to stop your frantic movements.

"fuck, i'm about to come undone if you won't stop, love," she says as she rests her forehead on her shoulder to catch her breath after she manages to stop the grindings between the two of you. before you could respond, she kissed you rough and messy as her hands slide over hips up to your waist.

her name spilled out of her lips after her real hand moved further up to cup your tit beneath your leather vest. her thumb teases your still clothed nipple as both of your hands softly pulled her hair, urging her on to continue. "Sev-," you gasp as her index and thumb pinched your nipple.

she's watching every single move of yours like you're the most beautiful person she ever witnessed. your eyes hazily fix on hers and you feel the emotions rising in all of a sudden. looking at her, you’re reminded of the feelings you’ve recently developed for her and the fact that you still owe her an explanation for your behaviour the last few weeks.

nonetheless, she smiles at you as you’re seemingly lost in your own thoughts. "Sev," you say again, trying to start whatever coherent sentence you were about to voice, but her lips on the shell of your ear interrupted the last string of thoughts you had.

"go on, love," she whispers and a shudder runs down your spine from her warm breath tickling your nerves. inhaling, you try to not concentrate on her lips that were moving down further and further with every wet kiss she presses on your skin. not to forget, her hand was caressing your tit, although it already moved on to your other one.

"i‘m sorry," you say, your hands playing with her hair to calm yourself. "i‘m so sorry, Sev," you continue, in- and exhaling to calm yourself "i really didn’t want to treat you like an enemy the last few weeks."

Sevika stops in her kisses as she expands her posture to look eye-to-eye with you. her mechanical hand still rests on your lower back as your hand drive off of her. continuing on, you look away almost in shame, "i don’t know why i haven’t communicated my feelings with you from the start. i hope you can forgive me for the last few weeks."

a smile grows slowly on her lips as she’s lost in her own thoughts, "so you have feelings for me, love?"

surprised by her reaction, you answer "i mean, isn’t it obvious considering what we’re doing right now? you’re hand is still on my tit!"

laughing, you shake your head at her surprised face but the smile on her lips never left. her mentioned hand moves up to your neck to pull you into a heartbreakingly loving kiss that you never want to stop.

"i forgive you, love," she whispers against your lips, "under one condition."

breaking the kiss and looking at her expectingly, she continues, "promise me to always come to me if something is in your mind. i don’t want us to end in a fight again."

smiling, you answer, "i promise." hooking your arms around her neck again, you say with a grin on your face "speaking of our fight, you still owe me something."

"you don’t have to remind me," she says with a laugh before her lips find yours again before her hand finds the opening of your scabbard. skilled with only her mechanical hand, she opens your trousers and traces the lines of your underwear.

"just so you know," she says as the sharp tip of her index finger slides down your pussy, "when we grew apart, i slowly realised that you mean more to me than a best friend."

she presses a kiss on your forehead, then on your cheek and lastly on your lips before she pulls away to react to her finger circling your clit over the cotton of your underwear. sighing from the sensation and love at the same time, you smile at her through hazed eyes as your hand slides down to trace her suggestive cleavage you were eyeing the whole night before you pinched her pointy nipple underneath her shirt.

exhaling in pleasure, her movements quicken on your clit. your breathing grows more rapid with every bolt of sensitivity you feel in your core. realising how close you were, she releases her hold on you and swaps her mechanical hand with her biological as she slips two fingers into your fold underneath your underwear. you whimper when she enters you with both thick fingers at the same time, but her kisses around your throat soothe the sting, which quickly turned into pure pleasure. moaning, you feel her curling her fingers to test your g-spot, making you see stars as she sucks and bites hickeys on your neck.

grasping for any hold on her, one hand fists the back of her shirt as the other one pulls on her hair as her movements quicken with every moan that escapes you. the table beneath you creaks loudly with every thrust of her, but when you come, the only thing you were able to process was the stars you were seeing and the sound of your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. you scream her name as your long orgasm takes several seconds, leaving you panting with tears in your eyes.

when you're able to recognise your surroundings again, you see Sevika watching you with unsteady breaths and clouded eyes. "fuck, my soul left me for a second," you indirectly praise her and she immediately smiles at your sentence. again, she leaves several kisses around your face.

"i'm so glad to finally call you mine."

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