#you may just find something you didn’t know you liked

[htaesan]

　ᅠ ✿　ᅠ NOT THAT I CARE OR ANYTHING　　────　ᅠ ( han taesan )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀your ex, seemingly sweet anton, spreads malicious rumours about you that could potentially ruin your entire academic weapon career, so you have to take desperate measures𑁋and that includes a fake-dating contract and the bane of your existence, han taesan.

　　　ᅠ 한태산 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 13k ⠀ genre college au fluff angst if you squint one sided rivals to lovers academic weapon x campus crush ⠀ contains mentions of food vulgar words skinship pet names several ocs ⠀ note i’m sorry if this fic is.. all over the place a bit coz,, yea!! but this fic is highly.. self-indulgent.. heheh! and i originally wanted to make this more angsty but i’m already sad and single so, No! anyways, enjoy reading ^_^ ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

“ALRIGHT. Let’s do it.”

As you gaze into Taesan’s determined eyes, the entire series of events flashes through your mind. 

It was back in your first year of university—early winter, the day of the first snowfall. You were walking towards the three-floor library, the cold wind stinging your eyes. You rushed inside, grateful for the gush of artificial warm air that greeted you as soon as the doors closed behind you. The library was quite packed for some reason, and you could barely spot any empty seats.

You walked towards the edge of the library, a corner with the largest window of the level. There it was—one of the only empty seats in the entire library—but that seat was next to a boy, heavily occupied with his studies. Your pace slowed down as you hesitated. The boy had a focused blank look on his face, his headphones on, and several papers and notebooks were scattered on the table around him.

You felt like you wanted to just leave and go back to your room, but remembering how cold it was outside, you decided against it. 

After taking a deep breath, you approached him. With a shaky smile, you tapped the boy’s shoulder, muttering a silent prayer. 

“Excuse me,” you said as he lowered his headphones to his neck. “May I sit here? I-I mean, if it’s cool with you..”

He simply nodded. “Sure.”

You had sat down next to the mysterious boy for the entire day, not knowing that, in the present, he would be the bane of your existence. 

In this moment, you’re brought back to the present, startled at how you’re standing in front of him. The mysterious boy that you had sat next to turned out to be Han “Taesan” Dongmin—KOZ School of Law’s campus crush. There’s almost nothing “bad” that you’re heard of him, yet, when you find yourself walking towards him with a fiery determination in your eyes—you immediately know that you’re about to get hit with something you’d never expect. 

“A-are you sure?” you say, surprised to even find yourself stuttering. You’ve held yourself to such a high reputation—being your school’s academic weapon—you’ve worked hard to keep yourself true to that name. 

Well, to be fair, you didn’t expect Taesan to even say yes to your ridiculous plan—given that all that’s he’s ever done for you is say everything that will get on your nerves.

Taesan gives you a smirk. “Of course,” he says, clearing his throat. “Being the boyfriend of KOZ Academy’s academic weapon isn’t something you get to do everyday.”

The way he presses the emphasis on the word ‘boyfriend’ makes you flinch. It reminds you of your stupid plan; who in their right mind would offer Han Taesan—your rival—a fake dating deal just to make rumours about themselves go away?

“Right,” you roll your eyes. “Anyway, I think we need to enforce some guidelines and boundaries regarding this… set-up.”

Taesan shoves his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight to let himself stand more comfortably. The smirk still on his face, he replies, “alright. Hit me with all of ‘em.”

You whip your phone out, quickly showing him a document that you spent an entire night typing out—complete with every single thing he needed to do for you. 

“Here,” you say, frustrated at how Taesan’s smug smirk just never falters. 

Taesan runs a hand through his hair before leaning down to read through the document displayed on your phone. He finishes reading it quickly, taking a step closer to you after. He doesn’t say anything for a while, only to startle you by abruptly saying, “I agree.”

“What–?” you blurt out, surprised once again. You thought that Taesan would be more picky than– 

“Your terms are easy for me to do. However,” you narrow your eyes at the boy who’s towering in front of you. Of course he’s picky—he’s Taesan. “I’d like you to agree to my conditions as well. If I have to do some things for you, you’d have to do some things for me too.”

You sigh before nodding. How hard could it be? Besides, this whole ‘relationship’ you’re having with Taesan is merely a fake dating set-up. 

“Okay.”

Taesan whips out a full-blown smug smirk, making you roll your eyes. He pushes his glasses up his nose bridge, holding out two fingers. 

“First, you have to also put in the effort to make things real. Like, wearing my jersey when I have basketball games, and wearing my initials ‘round your neck,” he pushes his middle finger down, the smug grin still plastered on his face, “and secondly, you’ll have to let me kiss you anytime.”

The moment the word ‘kiss’ escapes his mouth, you choke on thin air. 

Why is my plan backfiring on me? 

“What? No–”

Taesan shrugs. “Basically, physical contact is allowed to be done anytime.”

You feel your face flush, immediately recalling the third condition that you showed Taesan. No physical affection unless needed. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that—it’s clashing with my third term.”

“But your first term: ‘the other party must always do his utmost best to make the relationship seem real’ exists, am I right?” Taesan objects relaxedly. “Then, my second term doesn’t clash with that. And I also do believe that that first term of yours comes before the rest. Am I right?”

You grit your teeth, sucking in a sharp breath. How could you forget? Taesan will always work to have the last word—be that in court or in conversations. 

Plus, he’s not entirely wrong. 

Though, you’ve never been someone who lets Taesan win willingly. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, your heart twisting in detest at the way Taesan’s face lights up with a smirk again. 

“Then, we have a deal?” Taesan asks. 

You stare into his dark brown eyes once again, registering what you’re about to commit yourself to. All just to get rid of your ex and the rumour he’s pulled you into. 

You hold out your hand, Taesan gladly reciprocating. 

“Deal.”

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

IT didn’t hit you that you’re officially Han Taesan’s girlfriend that night. However, the next morning, right after the two of you signed the document at the coffee shop you always study at—it hit you like a million bricks from the sky. 

You’re in a “relationship” with the person you loathed the most for the past year. The exact same man who everyone adores, who’s called the it-boy, the campus crush—is now your most “beloved”. Freshman you would rather jump off a cliff than to offer her nemesis a fake-dating pact. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I guess. 

“Here,” Taesan hands you a velvet box—one that obviously contains jewellery of some sort. 

Of course. Han Taesan’s always prepared. 

You let out a deep sigh, knowing what’s inside. Despite that, you ask, “what’s this?”

Taesan gives you a grin, one that you always see him don during the countable times that he beats you in quizzes. “Open it—I’m sure you’ll like it.”

You run your fingers around the edges of the velvety box, sceptical at Taesan’s sudden soft tone. “Don’t talk to me like that,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. 

Taesan, instead of immediately throwing a scoff in your face, simply leans back into his seat with a chuckle. 

Not waiting for whatever reply he’s preparing to throw to you, you open the box. Your eyes lay upon a beautiful, dainty necklace with a “H.D” pendant, nested elegantly in the box. You bite back a gasp, though you’re unable to hide your surprise. The silver necklace is one of the most beautiful pieces of jewellery you’ve yet to lay your eyes upon—it’s dainty and simple, yet it screams elegance in the best way possible. 

You look up at Taesan, obviously bug-eyed. “What- I’m- thank you?”

Taesan throws his head back, laughing. He perches an eyebrow up, clearly amused. “What am I supposed to answer? ‘You’re welcome’?”

Oh. It’s part of his terms. 

You glare at him. 

Not missing a beat, Taesan says with a big grin on his face, “what is your lazy ass waiting for? Put it on—or do you need me to help with that?”

You massage your temples, tempted to stick your tongue out at him, hissing the obvious at him—that you do not want to wear his initials around your neck. 

“I don’t need your help,” you say between gritted teeth, harshly yanking the necklace from the box. You swiftly clasp the necklace around your neck, secretly surprised that you’re able to do so. 

Maintaining a glare, you retort, “I’m only wearing this stupid necklace because it’s part of your terms.”

You throw your gaze elsewhere, Taesan laughing his stomach out in the background. Why is he finding your irritated state so funny? 

The pendant feels cold against your skin, sending tingles. You gulp, feeling odd. You hadn’t announced your ‘relationship’ to your friends yet—but seeing you with Taesan’s initials could certainly start rumours. 

A part of you is jumping with triumph—your plan is starting to set its course, while another part of you is afraid of it all. What if you’re finally not good at something, no matter how much you try—pretending you’re in love with your rival, the bane of your existence?

“We’ll start slow,” you hear Taesan say, pulling you back into reality. You quickly morph into your stoic expression—one that you find yourself often putting up around people. “Like everyone else does. Soft launch.”

“Ah,” you manage, nodding. “Sounds good.”

“Even though that necklace certainly is a big jump for a soft launch,” Taesan voices, chuckling. His words cause you to narrow your eyes at him, hyper aware of the cold metal against your skin—a mark that Taesan managed to place on you. 

It’s all fake, you chant to yourself. Once Anton gets the message, it’ll all be over. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THE past few weeks had been a blur. Nothing was out of the ordinary—you attended classes, performed mootings and sent in assignments like usual. Though, only one thing that was out of the routine.

Taesan no longer felt like a thorn to your side. 

You still hate him—you despise the way he carries himself, so proud and confident. You wish you could punch his face for the way he’s so smooth with his words, the way that his charm works on everyone so well. You absolutely hate the way a handsome idiot like him had the potential to beat you in every single subject if you slacked for even a minute. 

Yet, to the public, he’s your boyfriend. 

A cliche: rivals to lovers, they say. 

Despite being the one proposing the whole fake dating plan, you had been the one following Taesan’s itinerary so far. The two of you had finally exchanged phone numbers, and at night, Taesan would always send a list of ideas on how to make the soft launch more obvious day by day. 

The first week, you found yourself wearing tops that highlighted the H.D pendant, styling your hair to make it more noticeable—you even went as far as attending Taesan’s birthday celebration to top the chances of people noticing the pendant. And Taesan didn’t inform you of this one, but you often found him telling his friends, yours, or random coursemates to pass you drinks and snacks. You had no idea how Taesan had gotten the list of all your favourite things to munch on, but you secretly did enjoy the free flow of snacks. Anton had passed you a snack from Taesan too—five packs of your favourite Choco Pie. You couldn’t forget the bewildered face Anton had as he passed them to you, eyes filled with question and a hint of jealousy.  

“What’s up with Han?” he asked.

You shoved the Choco Pies into your shoulder bag, biting back a smile. Who wouldn’t be jolly after getting five of their favourite tidbits? 

“How would I know?” you replied bitterly. You quickly turn away from Anton, the uncomfortable feeling of being around him overpowering the bubbly feeling you had from getting snacks. 

“Well, those Choco Pies are from him,” Anton repeated for the second time. “And I don’t recall him being anything but hostile to you.”

You suppress a scoff. “Maybe he’s had a change of heart? His brain is probably tired of coming up with things to try and outsmart me,” you muttered. As if. 

“Well, if anything—if that asshole tries to do anything to you, I’ll… be here for you, Y/N,” Anton said, taking a step closer. Your eyes widened and your jaw clenched. You quickly finished packing your bag up, swinging it over your shoulders. 

You said that last time, too. 

“Don’t talk to me, Anton,” you responded as monotony as possible before running out of the lecture hall, not giving Anton even a glance. 

The following weeks, Taesan was hanging out with you even more than the previous week. He wasn’t being too obvious, but to you, him walking slightly behind you and not throwing a loud sarcastic remark was already an apparent sign that would show everyone that your dynamics had changed. 

Anton had found yet another chance to corner you after a Public International Law lecture. You stayed back in the hall to reread your theoretical essay before sending it in. Behind you, Taesan was packing up his things, busy scrolling through something in his phone. 

“Hi, Y/N,” you froze when Anton’s voice reached your ear drums. 

You look up at him with a glare. “What do you want?”

Anton flashed his usual pitiful, soft smile. “Nothing. Just a meal with you—this week has been quite stressful for you, right? I heard that last Monday’s mooting was rough.”

“You’re not even a law student, Anton,” you seethed. The KOZ School of Business student ID card hanging on Anton’s neck looked extremely out of place amongst the ocean of law students. “Please kindly get lost, go back to the Business building.”

“My course mates are boring. Besides, you’re more fun to be around,” Anton replied. “I know we… haven’t been on good terms, but give me a chance to fix it all?”

You gritted your teeth, your hands beginning to shake. 

The audacity of this boy… where is my stupid fake boyfriend when I need him–?

“I think she clearly said for you to get lost, bud.”

You fought back a grin. Finally. 

“Han?” Anton tilted his head. “Wait– who are you to tell me that?”

Taesan stood next to you, his backpack dangling from one shoulder. His height towered significantly above you, making you standing right below his shoulders—enough to match Anton. “Who do you think I am?”

Anton’s eyes darted towards the pendant on your décolletage, his eyes bulging. “What the…” you heard him mutter under his breath. 

Taesan seemed to notice this too, and he swiftly pulled you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “So, get it now? Get lost, Lee, and give your ex some space. An ex is an ex for a reason.”

Anton then left with a fuming expression, leaving you in fits of relieved laughter after. You thanked Taesan, who simply responded with a polite smile. 

“By the end of this, don’t forget the wish, yeah?” he said, before walking out of the lecture hall. 

You stood there, blinking profusely. You had completely forgotten the last clause of your agreement with Taesan—once you were satisfied with his service, you had to grant him one wish. Anything that he wanted. 

You face palmed yourself. Why didn’t you think twice before typing that down? You mentally made a note to yourself to prepare your wallet for the outrageous request that the thorn in your side would make later on. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

“ARE you and Taesan dating?” 

Sophia’s question makes you almost spit your lunch through your nose. 

“What?”

“Girl, don’t you dare pretend not,” Yunjin interrupts, pointing her spoon at you. “You literally have his initials as a necklace that you never take off! H.D., which means Han Dongmin, right? Isn’t that his real name?”

“It’s not like–”

“No, no. It’s so obvious! Taesan’s around you more now, and he even gave you a birthday present!”

Sophia smiles, “he looks at you so differently now!” 

Yunjin laughs, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, that too, I guess,” she then looks at you, directly in the eyes, “I guess Han Taesan and Y/N L/N have finally begun their lovers era, huh?”

You feel your cheeks warming up, and guilt fills your chest. You draw a sharp inhale before telling the girls the full story. And subconsciously, your fingers find the pendant, playing with it. 

“It’s fake,” you sigh, “I mean, not the necklace—he’s just pretending. I’m pretending, too. None of this is… real.”

Sophia gasps and Yunjin frowns. 

“Are you… sure? What for?” Sophia asks.

Yunjin nods in agreement. “I’ve always thought that dude had feelings for you, but I… I didn’t realise it’s actually wrong and my deductions were totally off.”

You scoff, though Yunjin’s words left you wondering. “Taesan doesn’t like me—have you girls seen how he treats me?”

“He treats you well,” Yunjin states plainly, shoving a spoonful of rice into her mouth. 

“No,” you immediately shake your head, “he hates seeing me happy! He always finds a way to stick his annoying nose into my life, mocking me. He’s like always, always there to only laugh at my face.” 

“Then why did he agree?” Sophia asks. 

“To what?”

“To fake date you,” she continues, taking a sip of her yakult. “Well, I’m sure you have a plan—a contract and all—don’t you?”

Your eyes widen. How do these two girls know you so well? 

“Yeah. I do. I’m doing all this because of Anton,” the look on your friends’ faces makes you feel a little relieved, “I need him to shut up about me.”

You recall the ridiculous rumour you’ve heard about you from Yunjin, that’s been going around like crazy—the rumour that you used to date Anton because he’s rich and that you used him as a bribe to get outstanding grades. Those close to you knew that is and would never become true—yet people are always jealous of others who have certain things better than them. 

It may seem like a small matter to some, but to you, it’s a matter of reputation. Your whole image and potentially, your graduation is at risk. What if the rumour reaches some professor and they report you? You couldn’t risk the huge amount of money and time you spent, only to be scrapped off the dean’s list due to some rumour. 

Yunjin herself had recorded proof of Anton trying to turn her against you, using that rumour. If she hadn’t shown you the recording, you wouldn’t have believed that sweet, kind Anton was the one who spread those malicious whispers about you.

Now, you’ve got to end it all. One way or another.

You continue finishing your lunch, Taesan somehow in mind. By the end of your lunch, you’re convinced that this is truly all an act—it’s nothing real, and in the end, you’re both just people who hate each other and use each other for selfish, personal reasons.

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

“DO I really have to wear your ugly varsity jacket?” Dongmin hears you grunt through the call. He stifles a laugh, tossing a ball up and down. 

“Obviously, you dimwit,” he replies, “you’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Dongmin lets himself smile. The word rolls off his tongue like a simple melody—it feels natural for him to say. He finds it odd, yet entertaining—your reaction is worth it all. Besides, it’s quite refreshing to take a break from hating you, sometimes. 

“Besides, your ex is going to be there,” Dongmin reminds, his voice more throaty than expected. “He’s on the team as well, remember?”

“Yeah,” he catches your quiet answer.  

“Anyway, how do you even have time for all this?” you question from the other end of the line. 

“Hmm,” Dongmin hums, “I do have time.” 

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” you hiss. “You’re in law school, Han Taesan.”

“What? Like it’s hard?”

Dongmin lets out a hearty laugh as he hears you gasp—one of the loudest and most genuine expressions he’s gotten out of you yet. 

“I’m so done with you,” you huff. Dongmin hears you shuffle through your closet, most likely finding something to wear. 

“You say that everytime,” Dongmin whispers to himself softly. 

“Anyway,” you announce loudly, “you better have some food for me once I arrive—I’m wearing your stupid varsity jacket.”

“Alright, sweetheart, anything for you,” Dongmin jests in a sing -song voice.

He hears you yelp in disgust, chuckling. “Yuck! Fuck off, Taesan!”

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

IT’S a friendly match, nothing serious, Taesan had said; yet you’re here amongst other significant others, to watch him and his team play against another school’s team. 

At the bleachers, you feel called out, and insanely out of place. Everyone looks so in love—girlfriends wearing jerseys with their boyfriends’ numbers and names on the back, painted their faces accordingly, and even cheering for them with their hearts; mothers and siblings gathering together to support their sons and brothers.

Everyone looks so genuinely in love, and you’re the only one who’s there just because you have to. You arrived only two minutes before the match started, too, because you obviously don’t love Taesan enough to be rescheduling your work shift to see him play.

You fidget with the edges of the varsity jacket you’re wearing, oddly feeling how it’s perfectly oversized on you. 

Earlier, Taesan had spotted you sitting awkwardly on the bleachers. He ran over to you, quickly handing you a quesadilla and a cup of bubble tea, before jogging back to the basketball court to warm up. He didn’t say anything, nor did you—but the gesture made you feel weirdly fuzzy. 

Taesan did actually get you some food, even though you grumpily yelled at him to do so. You thought he wouldn’t, just so that he could get on your nerves, just like he always does. 

You watch him and the team warm up, pumping up positive energy with each other. You take a bite of your quesadilla, trying to ease your heart—yet you just can’t forget the real reason why you’re here. 

Jersey number 35.

The whistle blows, indicating the start of the game, and you catch Anton’s glance at you. He gives you a wide smile, winking twice—a sign that he made up, thanking you for coming, just like the old days. You grimace, turning away.

The mission is to make it seem like I’m in love with Taesan. 

You intently watch Taesan play in the arena, his moves sharp and powerful. He slips through the opposition’s defense flawlessly, scoring goals smoothly. Every time he throws the ball, it gets into the hoop—people erupt in cheers and he’s surrounded by his teammates. 

And every time, Taesan looks up at you, flashing his signature smirk. His grin sparkles, lighting up the room—it makes you feel like you’re the only one in the huge arena. 

It makes you feel odd. 

Like there’s so much more under that grin he flashes to you every time he scores. 

You touch the pendant on your décolletage, the cold metal stinging against your skin. Your fingers trace the letters—the initials of Taesan’s birth name—reminding you this is all a set-up. You’re supposed to pretend, and Taesan is pretending too. 

He must be.

Taking a deep breath, you tug the varsity jacket closer to your body, shoving your hands into its pockets. The weight of Taesan’s name and number lay heavy on your back, yet you don a bright smile—trying your best to show your support for him. 

Right now, you’re Han Taesan’s girlfriend. Player number 11’s girlfriend.

The match ends with Anton’s final goal, and KOZ Academy’s team wins 115-113. The entire gym erupts in waves of cheer and heartfelt hugs, every attending person feeling proud of their team, losing or not. You jog down the stairs, heading towards Taesan, whose height stands out in the crowd. 

When you reach the end of the stairs, you notice Anton’s gaze on you. You glance at him, the weight of past memories dragging you down. At the end of these exact same stairs, you used to run straight to Anton, engulfing him in a hug after a match. You used to kiss his cheek, congratulating him for a successful game. You used to feel like your entire world revolved around him, and that you would be happy with him. 

But that was in the past. Now, you can look at Anton with nothing in your heart. You feel nothing but plain resentment—damning him for the things he did to you. You had thought he was the love of your life, that you’d grow old with him—but Anton had other plans, and another girl that he prioritised more than you. 

You turn your head away, directing your gaze towards Taesan. He’s talking to his friends, his hair wet from the sweat. He’s grinning proudly, talking about something that’s interesting to boys. 

You sigh. Hopefully this whole set-up works—Anton leaves you alone, the rumours die down, and you can go back to bashing Taesan’s head. 

And hopefully, you can move on, too. Once and for all.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Anton take a step towards you. Though, what you don’t see is that Taesan is faster. He waves at you, calling your name with a big grin, before running to give you a hug. 

Your eyes widen upon the impact, and it’s like everything is in slow motion. 

Taesan pulls away, ruffling your hair. His eyes crinkle with his grin. “Are you proud of me, darling?”

Darling. 

You gulp. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

You give him a laugh, trying your best to not make it sound staged. Your nose crinkles at the smell of sweaty boys. Taesan notices, of course, and he chuckles. 

“Sorry, I must smell bad. I’ll be sure to spray on some more deodorant next time.”

You gaze into Taesan’s eyes, his arms still around your waist. There’s some kind of softness behind his teasing look—something that you’ve never seen before. 

A small smile forms on your lips, one that you’re unable to hold back. “Good job, Taesan.”

“Yeah?” Taesan laughs, his eyes forming crescent moons. “Thanks, Y/N.”

He then leans in to whisper, “that’s the first time I’ve heard that from you.”

You push him away, rolling your eyes. “Fuck off, Taesan. I’ll be waiting at the bus stop.”

Taesan laughs loudly as you stomp away. “By the way,” he yells, “you look good wearing my number, sweetheart!”

You lower your head, biting your lips to fight two things—the urge to flash the middle finger to the jolly Taesan behind you, and the weird fluttering feeling that erupts in your stomach every time he calls you ‘sweetheart’.

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

“Y/N,” you turn around, finding a panting Anton in front of you. 

You’re standing in line outside one of the most famous pasta restaurants in the heart of the KOZ School of Medicine square, waiting to buy this one pasta dish you’ve been craving for the entire month. You didn’t tell anyone you’d be here—not even Taesan or the girls—so you’re weirded out by the fact that your ex found you here.

“...Anton,” you curtly acknowledge. 

“Is it true?” he asks. 

You force your eyes close for a second, wishing that it wasn’t wrong to beat someone up. “What?”

“That you’re dating Han Taesan. I saw him kissing your cheek last time.”

Your heart almost stops beating for a second. Almost two months have passed, and almost everyone in the entire campus of KOZ Academy knows that you and Taesan are finally getting tired of fighting each other—falling in love instead. 

Your plan has passed the soft launch phase, and now, you’re having your nemesis call you sweet, adoring nicknames out in public. 

“Yes,” you answer, managing a deadpan expression. “What about it?”

“Do you love him?” 

You narrow your eyes at Anton, feeling like if he keeps on shooting questions like this, he’d go home with a black eye. “Why does it matter if I love him or not?”

“Because,” Anton starts, his voice beginning to waver with every following word, “you used to love me.”

His words hang in the air, thick with a known, cursed history. You could hear your heart stutter for a split second, but you shake your head, quickly suppressing the feeling. You take in a sharp breath, feeling the heat of old anger rise in your chest. You force yourself to look at Anton, eyes hardening.

“That was two years ago, Anton,” you say, your voice detached. “And you made sure to end it, remember?”

Anton’s face flickers with something—guilt, regret, maybe even a hint of fear—but you’re not interested in seeing it. You’re sick of it—too familiar with the way he can spin his words to make himself seem like the victim.

“You don’t get to do this,” you continued, lips tightening into a thin line. “You don’t get to just show up and act like we can pick up where we left off, after what you did with Mina."

Anton’s face darkens the moment your old best friend’s name leaves your mouth, but you hold his gaze without flinching. Anton opens his mouth, probably to throw another lame and poorly explained excuse that you’ve heard before, but you’re faster than he is. 

“Save it,” you snap. “You don’t have any right to ask me if I love Taesan after what you did. You lost that right the moment you lied to me and slept with her.”

Anton looks taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected you to bring that up, but obviously, you don’t care. You’ve held your feelings in for so long—leaving them behind quietly to try and move on without a commotion. You’ve spent enough time letting him walk all over you in the past—you’re not about to let him do it again.

For a moment, Anton looks like he’s about to say something more, but you don’t give him a chance. You turn away, taking a small step back as you glance briefly at the line in front of you. “I’m done with this conversation, Anton. You should be, too.”

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THE next morning, after your first class of the day, you sigh as you find yourself waiting outside of a rather packed coffee shop—allegedly Taesan’s favourite one—bundled up in Taesan’s scarf. Autumn is starting to give way to winter, and as it’s doing so, the winds and temperatures are getting crazier. You bury your face further into the softness of Taesan’s scarf, letting the mixture of champagne orange, passion fruit, and sugar vanilla attack your senses. It’s disturbing, once the fact that the scarf that’s warming you up belongs to Taesan registers in your head; however, you had no choice. Freezing your nose off was the only other option. 

“Hey,” you hear Taesan’s voice, turning instantly towards him. 

“Apple pie latte?” he says, handing you a warm cup of said coffee. Grabbing it from him, you perk your eyebrows up. 

“How did you know?” you say, pushing the scarf down. Taesan shrugs, sipping his own drink. You glance at the sticker on his cup: cinnamon maple latte.

“Instincts.”

You snicker at his reply, rolling your eyes. “Cut me some slack.”

The two of you then walk back towards the law school complex, where both of your classes will be held next. The winds begin to blow, and you find yourself hiding half your face behind Taesan’s scarf. You squint your eyes, blinking harshly as the stray strands of hair sting them. 

“I love autumn, but not this kind,” you mumble. 

Taesan glances at you, and in one swift motion, he grabs your free hand and shoves it into the pocket of his coat. He interlaces his hand with yours, letting his body warmth transfer to you. 

Your eyes widen, your brain slow at processing the situation. You whip your head towards the tall man walking with you, his expression relaxed as ever. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss, trying to pull away. 

Taesan gives you a look that yells ‘really, Y/N?’. “Keeping you warm?”

“I don’t need your help,” you retort, yanking your hand away. 

Taesan grabs it back, shoving it into his pocket. This time, his grip on your hand is firmer than before. “I don’t need my girlfriend to freeze to death—it’s going to ruin my reputation.”

Realisation hits you, again, like a ton of bricks right at the face. 

Oh. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, letting him do his thing. You look away, deciding to admire the surrounding golden trees. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself of how this whole ‘thing’ with Taesan is temporary—and having a personal heat packet isn’t too bad. 

Once the two of you reach the lecture hall together, people begin to clearly spectate. You pull your hand away from him, rushing to your usual seat. Taesan, his expression calm as he always is, walks over to his usual seat as well—directly behind you. 

Then, two minutes before the lecture starts, the person you truly hated comes into view, and decides to sit at the empty seat next to you. 

“Hi, Y/N,” your ex, Anton, greets you with the biggest smile on his face. You mentally sob—already dreading the three hours to come.

You turn away, scooting as far as you could. The memories rush like a flood you can’t stop—reminding you of the heart-tearing pain the boy sitting next to you caused. 

“Y/N? You alright? You look pale,” Anton says, probing further.

“It’s the weather,” you reply dully, your lips downturned. You unravel Taesan’s scarf from your neck, placing it on your lap. Your eyes fixed onto the lecture, you ignore Anton’s attempts to get you conversing with him. 

“Y/N, are you free after class?” Anton whispers, twenty minutes into the lecture. 

“No.” You give him a side glance.

“And you don’t even take IT,” you fake a smile, “so I don’t think you should even be here. With due respect, get lost, yeah?”

“I’m honoured,” Anton whispers back. The soft smile on his face makes you gag. “You still remember things about me.”

“Oh, please,” you grimace, anger beginning to bubble up inside of you. “I’d rather make out with Taesan than remember even the tiniest bit of–”

You suck in your breath sharply, your cheeks flushing at an alarming rate. You had blurted your words out too fast to even register the fact that you’re actually wearing the said person’s initials in a necklace ‘round your neck. 

“You’d rather what now, sweetheart?” 

Hearing Taesan’s voice, you can almost see his smug smirk decorating that annoyingly attractive face of his. 

Your eyes widen. 

I did not just admit that.

You turn to Taesan for a moment, flashing him a sheepish smile. You quickly spin back to face the lecture, forcing yourself to focus. 

After the lecture concluded, you find yourself stuck in a sticky situation—Anton just can’t let you go out. 

“Do you want to go and grab lunch together? It’s pretty late for lunch, and I know your stomach gets upset easily if you don’t eat,” you wince upon hearing his soft tone. 

You frown, hating the fact that Anton knows almost a lot of things about you. “No, Anton, I’m sure I said–”

“She said no, Lee, I’m sure even a stupid motherfucker can understand.”

Seeing Anton’s eyes almost pop out at the sight of Taesan next to you, you’re sure that you look the same. You turn sharply towards Taesan, who has his hand perfectly placed on your back. The look on his face is fierce and scary, like he’s about to completely destroy Anton exactly where he’s standing.  

“Han,” Anton addresses him curtly. “I didn’t know that you’re on… good terms with Y/N.”

You fidget with the charm on your décolletage, collecting every bit of energy you have to maintain a stoic expression. 

Taesan flashes a sly smirk, pride radiating from his eyes as the corners of Anton’s lips twitch. “Why? Is it important to you who I’m close to?”

“No, but given your history with Y/N—I don’t want her to get hurt,” Anton blathers, “so I’m gladly asking you to–”

“What? Fuck off?” Taesan scoffs. Your eyes bulge, somehow not expecting Taesan’s choice of words to be so vulgar. “I think that’s what you’re supposed to do, Lee.”

“Y/N,” Anton says, desperation vivid in his voice. He grabs your wrist, and you instinctively step back. “C’mon, let’s go. I know you don’t like this stupid asshole here–”

Before you could even act, Taesan steps in front of you, shoving Anton to the floor. The students who are still lingering around stop to look. You couldn’t hold in your gasp—Taesan looks extremely angry, you swear you could see fire in his eyes. 

A thought clicks into your head. 

Taesan is the it-boy, of course he’s good at acting.

You take a step back, weirded by the heavy feeling of disappointment that begins to cloud your heart as soon as you remember the arrangement. 

It’s just acting, Y/N. Get it together. 

“Don’t touch her, bastard,” you hear Taesan hiss before he turns to you. Anger still lingering around, you watch with silence as Taesan relaxes the tension in his jaw. In a mirroring silence, he gestures for you to follow him out. You nod.

As you turn on your heel, Anton calls out, visibly irritated. 

“Y/N,” he says, “what’s going on?”

You give him a mocking smile. You swing Taesan’s scarf around your neck. “I don’t think I owe you an explanation, Anton.”

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

AS you and Taesan walk out of the lecture hall, you can’t ignore the heavy weight settling in your chest. It keeps replaying in your mind: the way Taesan stepped in, fiercely protective—it’s all an act, right? You sneak a glance at Taesan, but his face is unreadable, his jaw still slightly clenched from the encounter.

“Taesan… you didn’t have to do that,” you mumble, playing with the hem of his scarf.

Taesan exhales through his nose, his shoulders rising slightly. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he then adds under his breath, “fucking bastard.”

You blink, unintentionally slowing your steps. That’s… different from what you expected.

“Taesan,” you try again, but he shoves his hands into his pockets, picking up the pace.

You know you should just let it go, but the air between the two of you feels heavier than it was before. Was it just an act? Maybe it was—and that Taesan’s acting skills are as good as the rom-com actors—but something about the way he had looked at Anton; like he was seconds away from doing more than just shoving him to the ground. 

It feels too… real.

A sudden gust of wind cuts through your coat, making you shiver. Instantly, Taesan grabs your wrist and pulls you into a nearby convenience store.

“Sit,” he orders, disappearing for a moment. You watch him move through the aisles, confusion twisting in your chest. You take a seat exactly where he ordered you to, your head fuzzy from the mixture of confusing, unnamed emotions.

When he returns, he kneels slightly, pressing a warm drink and a heat pack into your hands, his fingers lingering just a second too long.

“You’re hopeless,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “First my scarf, now this.”

You gasp dramatically, rolling your eyes as your lips twitch, your heart knocking against your ribs. “You’re the one who keeps giving me things.”

Taesan just hums in response, his gaze locking onto yours. His usual unreadable expression softens, something almost unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Your grip tightens on the cup, trying to shake off the way your body reacts to his warmth. This whole thing with Taesan was supposed to be temporary. So why did it feel like something had changed?

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

DONGMIN takes several deep breaths, his eyes shut. The jazz music plays in the background, and the buzz of the cafe calms him down. 

No wonder Y/N likes this place. 

Dongmin opens his eyes, finding himself staring at you ordering drinks and some food for the two of you. You had dragged him here as soon as you finished your drink at the convenience store, repeating that you needed to treat him to some food. Your voice rings in his head, telling him that he needed to follow you to the coffee shop, to cool off his steam. 

“Do you like apple pie?” you ask, setting a plate of two slices of said dessert, accompanied by two scoops of vanilla ice cream.

“Why do you even ask if you’ve already gotten it? Seems like my preference doesn’t matter,” Dongmin replies, putting on the usual smirk. 

Your eyes widen and he chuckles. 

“Well,” you huff, “I like apple pie—and it’s impossible to find someone who doesn’t.”

“Alright,” Dongmin laughs, and it hits. His laughter dies down as the realisation sinks in—watching you devour your slice of apple pie like it’s the only food you’ll eat until the end of time. 

Dongmin, as he puts a bite of his food into his mouth, realises how messed up he is. He realises how often a hearty laugh escapes him when he’s with you—how a flustered, frustrated mess you make him. 

“Why are you being nice to me?” Dongmin asks. He pokes his fork absentmindedly into the crust of the apple pie, second guessing his question the moment it leaves him. 

You and he had always, always been rivals—a pair that’s never meant to get along. He’d always find you muttering curses and throwing glares in his direction; and he’d always find himself trying his best to reciprocate your disdain for him. 

Dongmin does hate you, too. 

He hates how you’re so confident, so diligent, so talented. He despises how hard you work, how determined you are, how you seem to always effortlessly bring him down and defeat him in academics. He feels the most intense dislike for you—whenever you walk in the room, he feels like the world is about to explode, along with his sanity. 

Dongmin hates, with a burning passion, how he can’t stop himself from falling in love with you. He absolutely loathes the way you smile, the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, and the way you look at him—with such fiery determination that’s enough to knock him off his feet. He completely hates the way that he has to keep his tongue sharp, and his attitude insufferable, for you to give him a sliver of your attention. He perfectly hates the way it’s impossible for him to let you know that he doesn’t hate you, at all. 

Dongmin watches you open your mouth to reply, yet you don’t for a few moments. You return his gaze, uncertainty playing around in her eyes. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion. “We’re just eating apple pie, Taesan,” you laugh sheepishly. 

For the first time, Dongmin doesn’t have an immediate answer. He swallows the bite of apple pie in his mouth, unsure of what he should say next. His smirk fades and hesitation engulfs him.

You notice this, of course, and your frown deepens. Though, before you could do anything, Jaehyun—Dongmin’s friend, suddenly appears.

He greets Dongmin, patting his shoulder. “Yo, Taesan, long time no see! Wait–” he pauses, laying his eyes on you. “Wait, am I dreaming? You two? Sitting together? Laughing? Are pigs flying now?”

You immediately shake your head, laughing along with Jaehyun. Dongmin, on the other hand, is dazed. He stays silent, still unsure of what to say. He’s finding everything peculiar—the way he’s unable to say anything, the way that his heart is thumping loudly against his chest at the mention of you as his girlfriend. 

He watches you politely say goodbye to Jaehyun, gaining certainty with every beat of his heart. 

His little crush on you is resurfacing, after two years of pushing it down with faked hatred. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

AFTER Jaehyun leaves, you let yourself sneak a glance at Taesan, who’s absentmindedly poking holes in his already destroyed pie crust, avoiding your gaze. You notice his oddly quiet state—the Taesan you know would never miss the chance to throw in a witty remark. 

You throw him a glare, slightly hoping it’d make him knock out of his trance. You set your fork down with an audible clink. “You’re being weird. I mean, you always are insufferably weird, but this is even weirder.”

Taesan scoffs, lifting his drink to his lips. “And you’re being annoying. Paranoid.”

You cross your arms, an annoyed grimace forming on your face. “Am I?”

Taesan holds your gaze for a moment too long, something flickering in his eyes before he looks away. “Maybe not.”

Oh.

You lean back, sighing dramatically. “Fine. I don’t get what you being weird has with me being paranoid, but yeah, I’m totally being paranoid. Definitely imagining things,” you scoff sarcastically.

Taesan hums in agreement. “You do that a lot.”

You choke on air. Glaring at Taesan, you retort, “you’re infuriating.”

“And yet, here you are, sharing dessert with me,” Taesan smirks, tilting his head. 

You pause, blinking profusely.

That… is a valid point. How did you even get here? You and Taesan are supposed to be rivals. Aren’t you supposed to hate each other?

Your stomach twists, and suddenly, you find it difficult to swallow your final bites of apple pie.

After moments of deafening silence, you say, your voice slightly wavering, “you’re unbelievably good at dodging questions, Taesan.”

You bring your drink to your lips, hoping that you sounded casual. 

Taesan looks up from his finished plate of apple pie, smirking as he leans back. “Oh, yeah? Have you ever considered that you’re too good at asking too many questions, and it’s insufferable?”

Your eyes widen slightly, flickering to the way that his eyes glare vaguely at you. “Maybe I am,” you admit quietly, “but you’re dodging the real ones.”

Taesan’s smirk falters a little bit, just for a second, and there’s something unrecognisable in his eyes. Something you can’t put a name on. 

Maybe a shift in the air. Maybe it’s just your imagination. Or maybe it’s because your heart is racing just a little too fast.

You’re so focused on trying to read Taesan’s expressions that you don’t notice the way your voice softens. “So… if this whole thing is an act, why do I keep feeling like you actually care?”

You mentally hit yourself. That isn’t what you meant to say—and it’s certainly not what you would say in front of Taesan.

Though, it’s out before you can stop yourself. The words hang in the air, heavy and uncertain.

Taesan freezes, his eyes widening with a vulnerability for a fraction of a second. Then, just as quickly as it came, his guard comes back up. “Like we’ve discussed before, it’s an act. Nothing more.”

His voice is stern and plain, and his expression is stoic, but you catch the tremble in his hand as he’s fiddling with his fork. 

That, somehow, doesn’t sit right with you. 

You learn forward, the pendant swinging against your décolletage, your expression more serious now. “Then why do you care so much?”

You watch him closely, catching the tightening in his jaw and the way his hand proceeds to rest on the table, fingers anxiously tapping against the wood. Taesan doesn’t answer immediately, and instead, he looks away to drift his gaze to the window.

Your chest suddenly tightens. He’s acting like this is nothing, but you certainly feel it—the crack in the walls you’ve both constructed carefully against each other. It’s a tug at the back of your mind, a repeating whisper you’ve been trying so hard to push away.

And yet, the silence between you feels louder than ever.

Minutes pass by and the silence gets louder and louder. You’re lost in your own thoughts—realising just how much you’re affected by Taesan; just how much more you’re feeling than you want to admit. In the silence, you’re wondering, are you just imagining all this? Maybe it’s just you, maybe it’s the fact that you’re finding something more from this fake relationship you have with Taesan, your nemesis. 

Though, there’s something that you can’t deny: the fact that your chest tightens with fluttering butterflies every time he gets too close, every time his words shift to something softer than usual, it’s something that makes your heart trip in your chest.

“Y/N,” Taesan calls, his voice softer than anticipated, and you’re pulled out of your train of thought. You look at him slowly, uncertain and afraid of what’s to come. He pauses, as if he’s unsure of what to say next. “What if… I told you I’m not sure if I can pretend much longer?” 

His gaze finally meets yours, and for a moment, there’s no mask—just the raw sincerity in his eyes.

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You open your mouth, trying to say something—but nothing comes out. The evident truth in his words hits you like an ocean wave on a sunny day, and you can’t help but feel something is shifting between you both.

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THE next few weeks pass by like a ridiculously large time-skip in a movie. You’re doing things like you usually do—attend classes, do mootings, send in assignments, study for exams. Though, there’s one big thing in your life that you can’t ignore—Taesan, your fake-dating arrangement, and the lingering, unspoken tension between the two of you. The first week after the coffee shop episode, you couldn’t sleep even a wink—your mind kept on replaying the scenes over and over again, the way you caught Taesan’s guard almost falling down. You’re sure you felt it too, the cracks in the walls you’ve built against him—even for a short moment. 

At school, you’re hyper aware and extra distracted by Taesan. He’s doing his part of the agreement well, acting like he agreed he would. Every glance from him feels like a load of unspoken words, and the air between you two feels heavy. Every day you ponder, unsure of what to do with the new, fragile tension that’s settled between you and Taesan.

Today is the same—everything passes in a blur of lectures, assignments, and studying. You drag your heavy footsteps out of the room, your head spinning at the thought of the many assignments waiting for you. You look up, and the moment you step into the hallway, you see Taesan leaning against the wall, phone in hand, looking as calm as ever. 

You walk near him, and your eyes meet—you see a flicker of something there—a tension, a question neither of you have the answer to. 

“Y/N,” Taesan greets you with a casual, unreadable smile. You pause in your steps, turning to face him.

“Hi,” you reply quite timidly. You’re trying to sound casual, but you can hear the slight hitch in your voice. There’s no pretending this isn’t different now. There’s no pretending you didn’t almost cross a line last time. 

Taesan takes a final glance at his phone before shoving it into his pocket. “Still pretending this is just an act?” he asks, his voice surprisingly soft but laced with something familiar, almost teasing.

You pause, your breath stuck in your throat. Your heart, yet again, skips a beat, and you try to brush it off by laughing nervously. “Me? Pretending? I’m not pretending,” you say, and it’s directed more towards yourself than to him.

You’re not sure who’s trying to convince who anymore.

Taesan looks taken aback. He blinks profusely before putting his usual, calm expression back on. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding, “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You watch him walk away, heart twisting in the weirdest way. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

DONGMIN hates the way everything is now. Why can’t he just tell you everything? Why can’t he just tell you that he isn’t pretending, that he actually cares?

He wants to stop everything–going back to shoving insults at your face might be the safest option of them all. Yet, Dongmin finds himself caring for you in the little ways—wrapping his scarf around your neck, adjusting the placement of your bangs with a simple ruffle, placing a tin of coffee and bread in front of you whenever you seem exhausted with studying, sliding post-its to you with his handwriting reminding you to take breaks when needed. He still finds his heart racing upon seeing you; the way your lips pout when you’re deep in thought, the way you smile and laugh so adorably upon hearing a funny joke from your friends, the way you’re still so cute even when frustrated. 

As he walks away, Dongmin fights with his own heart. Why was he acting like this? It’s so clear that you’re expecting something more, but why is he pushing you away? 

Dongmin takes a deep breath. Yeah, he’s scared. He’s afraid that maybe it’s all in his head, maybe you’re the one acting so well and it’s just gotten to him. 

Dongmin swears to get himself together, but it looks like he’s going to need more than just mental affirmations. 

The next day, he misses his alarm, for the first time in forever, and is running late to his 9 AM lecture. He’s speed walking through students, dodging them with a bag hanging on one shoulder and his hair still partially wet. Just as he’s about to near the entrance of the Law building, he hears raised voices nearby. He puts his hood up, his first instinct is to ignore it all—he’s got no time to eavesdrop on people’s business. However, he recognises one of the two quarrelling voices—yours. 

Dongmin’s steps come to a halt, and he turns to face you. His eyes slightly widen and his shoulders begin to tense as he sees you and Anton standing a few feet away, locked in an argument. He’s a bit too far away to hear the full conversation, yet he catches some bits of it.

You’re standing at your full height, stiffly in front of Anton, arms crossed and eyes blazing with fury. Anton, on the opposite side of you, no longer has that sickening, innocent smile—instead, he’s flashing you a mocking smirk. 

The argument is already reaching its peak, yet Dongmin is quick to analyse the situation just by picking up a few bits. 

“You think you’re really something, don’t you?” Anton taunts.

You scoff. Dongmin could tell you’re offended, yet the mask you put on really makes a difference. “At least I don’t have to put other people down to feel important.”

Anton scoffs back, “please. You act like you’re above all this, but you’re just as desperate for attention as everyone else.”

Dongmin clenches his jaw, watching the argument unfold as his fingers begin to twitch. 

You give Anton a mocking laugh, stepping forward. “I don’t care what you think, Anton Lee. I don’t care if you think I don’t love Taesan, because what matters is my own feelings, not yours. And I’m done wasting my time on you.”

Before you could turn away and enter the building, Anton grabs your wrist. 

It’s not aggressive, but it’s enough. Enough to make Dongmin see red.

Everything’s a blur—one second later, he’s towering in front of Anton, his eyes glaring daggers. 

“Let her go,” his voice is low and threatening, as sharp as a blade. 

Anton looks up, initially startled, but as soon as he sees Dongmin, he rolls his eyes. His hand still around your wrist, he says with a sneer, “look who’s here, Y/N’s knight in shining armour! Oh, so great, always the hero.”

Dongmin is too busy counting down the ways he could destroy Anton’s life to be noticing how immediate the warmth creeps up your cheeks. Dongmin, in one fluid motion, steps closer, standing between you and Anton. 

“Did you hear me?” his voice drops deadly lower than before, his posture relaxed yet his eyes are dangerous. “Let. Go.”

Anton huffs, roughly letting go of your hand. He shakes his head. “You two are seriously something else,” he mutters before storming away. 

You and Dongmin stand next to each other, cautiously eyeing Anton until he disappears from sight. For that moment, none of you say anything.

“What was that for?” you say suddenly, crossing your arms. “I didn’t need you to step in.”

Dongmin shoves his hood down to his neck, raising his eyebrow. Feeling slightly irritated, he scorns. “Yeah? Looked like you were having a great time.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, but something pinches Dongmin’s heart as he notices there’s no real bite behind it. “I’m fine—I had it all handled.”

Silence. 

Dongmin exhales sharply, words shooting out of his mouth without second thought. “I know. It’s just–” 

He stops, his eyes landing on your wrist. Closes his mouth. 

You wait for a few moments, before warily asking. “What? Just what?”

Dongmin hesitates. Suddenly, it’s all he can push out of his throat. He’s already there, halfway crossing the line he’s put between you and him for the past two years. 

And then, it just… slips out. 

“I just can’t stand it, okay?”

Your frown deepens, confused. “Stand… what?”

Dongmin lets out a frustrated breath, turning sharply to completely face you. “I can’t stand seeing you with people like that fucking bastard. I can’t stand watching you get into these stupid situations. And I really, really can’t stand how much I—”

His eyes widen, and his words stumble upon a stop. Dongmin stammers, realising what he was just about to say. 

“Taesan,” you call, gently, hope suddenly shimmering in your eyes. “How much you what?”

Dongmin freezes. He’s silent, tongue frozen, unable to utter another word.

He can’t say it. 

Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, muttering curses under his breath. 

“You know what?” 

“Taesan–”

“Next time,” he says quickly, in a softer voice, “don’t… waste your time on a guy like him.”

Your eye contact is still intact, you open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Your eyes widen for a split second—as if you’re catching on to the feelings displayed, unknowingly, on Dongmin’s face. 

His concern is real.

“W-we should go,” you stammer instead, gesturing to the Law building. 

Dongmin nods. He grabs your backpack from you, signalling for you to walk in first. “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

You force yourself to walk as swiftly as possible to the lecture hall, heart pounding, mind racing. Behind you, Dongmin’s entire body is tense. He’s finally realising he can’t keep his feelings for you hidden forever.

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THE next day, you can’t stop thinking about Taesan—and whatever he was about to say to you. Your mind races with a million different thoughts throughout the day. What if he actually feels the same? What if you’re not the only one looking for something more in this fake arrangement?

However, given that exams are looming closer, you’re only given a short amount of time to dwell on your thoughts. After your last class of the day, you find yourself cooped up in the library, studying the rest of the day away. Several of your friends join you, too. 

The study group grows, joined by both your friends and Taesan’s—though, you didn’t even realise that Taesan is sitting across you the entire day, until everyone starts leaving one by one. 

By midnight, it’s only you and him. You don’t look up, but you can feel your heart thumping faster than usual. You’re hyper aware of your surroundings—how close he is, how his scent feels comforting yet intimidating, and how his presence is reminding you of something that you’re too afraid to admit. 

“Y/N,” you open your eyes to someone gently shaking your shoulder, the reality of things crashing onto you all at once. You lift your head up, realising that you fell asleep in the middle of reviewing a past paper. Your eyes meet with Taesan’s concerned gaze. 

His voice is low and soft, as if it’s only for you. “Let’s take a break. You’ve been snoozing off way too many times.”

Your heart is beating a little faster than usual, but you agree. Taesan’s request seems too casual, and he looks like he needs a break too. 

You follow his lead, walking a little bit behind him to the convenience store that’s still open in campus grounds. He’s silent, observing you and letting you pick anything you want before paying for both your things and his. 

“Go sit,” he says, holding your instant tteokbokki package in hand, along with his instant noodles. “I’ll heat these up.”

Taesan quickly moves to the microwave before you can say anything in retaliation, a sign that you take seriously. He’s not in the mood for any fights. 

You take a seat, and soon after, Taesan joins you. He puts your instant meal in front of you, breaking your chopsticks for you. 

“Here,” he says, his voice quiet. “Careful, the tteok is still hot.”

He then slips his coat around you before turning back to his own beverages. 

You find yourself staring at him, long after he’s handed you your things. You watch him, peacefully releasing his tension—running a hand through his hair, chugging down a cup of coffee. 

Everything around you looks like it has a blurred filter on, yet one thing is crystal clear: Taesan, and his evident care for you. The longer you stare at him, the more you realise.

He’s always been the one. He’s always been there. 

It hits you harder than any bad grade has ever done. 

Taesan has always been like this—quietly looking out for you, quietly caring for you. 

All this while, all the banter, the little arguments, moments, and glances—it’s not just rivalry. It’s not just the fact that he always finds a way to make you all grumbly and irritated. It’s not just the fact that, even back when you were with Anton, he’d always find a way to show his care for you. 

It’s not just the fact that you enjoy his company, even if he makes you feel like you want to bang your head against the wall. 

You like him. 

You like Han Taesan. 

You quickly turn your head away, blood rushing to your head as soon as the realisation hits you. You stuff a few bites of instant tteokbokki into your mouth, wanting to quickly get rid of whatever this warm, refreshing feeling is. 

“Can you stop looking at me like that, L/N?” 

You cough, shocked at how his sudden comment breaks through the almost comforting silence. All the past moments you’ve had with him—the banter, the insults, the arguments—run through your head as soon as your last name, what Taesan had always called you, reaches your ears.

“Like what?” emboldened by the awakening of your feelings, you retort, your tone more challenging than you intended. 

Taesan snaps, pushing his chair back, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“Like I’m your fucking boyfriend.”

“What?” you’re confused, not expecting that out of his mouth. “What are you–”

“Like you’re waiting for me to say something that I know I can’t take back.”

“Say it, then.”

You say, challenging him. It feels sentimental—like the old days, where all you did when you met Taesan was throw taunting words at him. But at the same time, the words come out of your mouth without realising—daring the two of you to finally cross the line. 

“I like you, okay? I probably love you at this point, I don’t know. I don’t know when it started, but I do. And I—” He exhales sharply, his voice softer. “I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t.”

The world stops spinning and you stare at him, blank. 

Your tongue feels numb, your heart racing at a million miles per hour. 

You feel the same, you’re sure, but you don’t know how to respond. Do you smile and say it back? Do you tease him, calling him an idiot like you always do? 

“I didn’t mean to fall for you,” you catch Taesan muttering. 

You smile. “Me too,” you say softly. 

Taesan lifts his head immediately, sharply turning to you with widened eyes. “... pardon?”

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THE next few days feel like a refreshing spring breeze in the peak of winter, yet the air is filled with a cute awkwardness. After the confession, neither of you explicitly announce to one another that the two of you are a real couple now—yet your interactions feel new and unscripted, but no one exactly is making the first move. 

Of course, your friends notice before the two of you do. 

You’re sitting at the food hall together with Yunjin and Sophia, eating breakfast. You’re halfway through your pancakes, and Taesan—or Dongmin, as you call him now—suddenly takes a seat next to you. 

“Mind if I join, girls?” he asks, a charming grin on his face. He’s asking the table, yet his gaze is directed to you. You bite your lip shyly, nodding.  

“Sure, make yourself at home,” Yunjin says, her words laced with teasing. She watches with eagle eyes as Dongmin puts all of the sliced bananas from his serving of pancakes onto yours, knowing that you especially enjoy them with your breakfast pancakes. She snorts at the obvious look of love in Dongmin’s eyes, more evident now that he isn’t shoving insults at your face. “So, you two are really dating now?”

You choke on your bite of pancake, immediately blurting out,

“No!”

“Yes.”

You sharply turn to Dongmin, who has a smug look on his face. It’s the one look on his face that you’re used to, yet there’s a tint of pink on his cheeks. The edge of his smirk twitches, threatening to form into a cute, lovesick smile. 

“...I see,” Sophia interrupts your awkward eye contact, sighing dramatically. 

“We’re dating?” you ask Dongmin acutely, your brows connecting in an embarrassed frown. 

“I don’t know,” Dongmin shrugs casually, the look in his eyes teasing. “Are we?”

The blush that instantly creeps up your cheeks tells you the answer. You look away, suddenly focused on the way you’re cutting your pancakes. Dongmin’s laugh echoes to your left, and your friends’ send you teasing looks. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

A few months later, on the first week back after winter break, you go on a walk around campus with your boyfriend, Han Dongmin. It feels weird, calling him yours now. Just almost half a year ago, you were fighting your ego to have your nemesis fake-date you in order to intimidate your ex into leaving you and your life alone. Now, that same thorn in your side has become the light of your life, the apple of your eye. Now, the two of you are in something that’s not written on a flimsy contract.

Dongmin had also helped clear out the rumours surrounding you—in the most annoying, Han Taesan way—announcing the truth about Anton by spreading it like a rumour to everyone. You still get second-hand embarrassment remembering that day, bombarded by questions and apologies from acquaintances and people you’ve only seen around. 

“You know,” you say dreamily, distracted by your train of thought, “you’re so annoying—but I love you.”

Dongmin freezes, his steps coming to an immediate halt. You, too, freeze in your steps as you realise you’re a few steps ahead of him now. You turn around, eyebrows perked up. “What’s wrong, Dongmin?”

Dongmin. 

The sound of your voice calling his birth name repeats in his mind, like a favourite song on loop. He stares, unable to say anything. His eyes fall on the pendant dangling from your neck, one that you started wearing due to the fake-dating arrangement. He remembered insisting that you take it off, so that he can buy you a new one later, but you said that it’s special so you won’t take it off. 

I love you. 

Dongmin feels a smile slowly bloom on his face. 

She said it. She didn’t even hesitate. It’s like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

His face softens, jogging up to you. He gives you a cheeky smile. 

“Say that again.”

You frown. “What again?”

“The first part.”

“What–” you pause, eyes widening as you get what he’s talking about. Heat rushes up your cheeks, warming your face despite Dongmin’s scarf wrapped around it. “I–”

“Yeah,” Dongmin says, smirking as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Me too.”

You bury yourself into the familiar scent of Dongmin’s scarf as he kisses your cheek. 

“Fuck you, Han Dongmin,” you grumble, ignoring the obvious butterflies in your stomach. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THAT weekend, you and Dongmin are eating lunch together at your favourite coffee shop. Dongmin had said that the vibes there makes him sleepy, and tried to bring you to eat at one of the more famous restaurants near the KOZ School of Engineering, yet the plan backfires on him when the line is certainly too long. 

Now, the two of you are back at your favourite coffee shop, sipping warm cinnamon lattes. 

“See?” you tease, smiling cheekily. “I told you this place is the best.”

Dongmin rolls his eyes, taking a big spoonful of the chocolate cinnamon roll on your plate. “I want to eat some real food, like kimchi jjigae, not these sweet chocolate desserts,” he complains, though he can’t hide the fact that he secretly loves it. 

“Yet you’re the one finishing my cinnamon roll,” you retort, letting him subconsciously finish your dessert. You’re familiar with his love for chocolate.

Dongmin flashes you an innocent smile, shrugging. “Not my fault.”

Comfortable silence engulfs the two of you, letting you bask in each other’s presence. Suddenly, Dongmin leans closer, adjusting the place of the H.D pendant on your décolletage. Frozen, you watch him lean back into his seat, smiling as he admires you. 

“You look good today,” he murmurs, “actually, you look good everyday.”

An undeniable tint of pink colours your face. “I’m literally wearing a black turtleneck sweater, Dongmin.”

His gaze softens. “Like the first time you sat next to me, three years ago, during our foundation year.”

Your eyes widen, your mind replaying the memory, fresh like it happened yesterday. “You… remember?” 

“Of course,” Dongmin replies, his smile delicate. 

“I even remember the day you walked up to me, confident and all. I thought you were going to brag to my face that you won first place for the quiz we had the day before, but then you told me to fake date you.”

You almost spit out the coffee from your mouth. “Han Dongmin!” you hiss. “Don’t remind me… it was so stupid.”

“Stupid?” Dongmin asks, tilting his head. The signature cocky smirk is back on his face. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah…” you sigh, “I mean, I could’ve resolved the matter by myself, you know–”

“But you know that I’m the best option,” Dongmin cuts you off, smug. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t think it’s stupid, though,” he continues, his expression softer. More… raw. “To be honest, I think I was ecstatic that you walked up to me that day.”

“Why?” you ask croakily. 

“‘Cause I’ve always liked you, Y/N. I always have. I just don’t understand where things went wrong—maybe it’s the way I thought teasing you would gain me your attention at first. It did. But then, you became used to my teasing and thought of me as a threat—maybe ‘cause I’m smart as hell, too—but yeah. I don’t know how to say it but, all of that hatred was… pretend.”

You blink at him, too shocked to process his words. You try to reply, but mere stuttering comes out, and your face turns bright red. 

Dongmin notices this, of course, and he turns on his shameless, impudent grin. “Besides, you said you’re going to grant me any wish that I have, right?”

Oh. 

You inhale sharply. How could you forget? You immediately bring out your phone, checking the balance in your bank account. It’s quite a luxury, due to you working a few part time jobs during your break and whenever you can—but you certainly don’t think it’s fit for whatever grand wish Dongmin is about to demand from you. 

“Fine,” you huff, “only because it’s part of our… old contract.”

“Old contract, huh?” Dongmin wheezes, already laughing hard. You frown, fighting back a smile. 

“Why are you always laughing whenever I speak, dumbass?”

“Hey,” Dongmin pauses his laughter, flicking your forehead gently. It doesn’t even hurt, but you gasp dramatically, and he laughs it off. “It’s babe for you, sweet girl. And, I’m not laughing at you. I’m just admiring how cute and funny you are.”

Babe, huh?

You snort, hiding a smile. “Fine.”

“Anyway, speaking of the old contract,” Dongmin grins, “what’s the new one, then?”

“You haven’t even told me what sort of dumb, overpriced thing you want for your wish,” you say, lips set in a grim line. “And now you want another one?”

“My wish, huh?”

The unreadable look on his face makes you brace yourself and your wallet.

“Then, my darling, this is my wish.”

Dongmin leans forward, brushing his lips against yours. It’s subtle, short and sweet, but significant enough for you to realise it all—the reality of your feelings and his. He lingers for a while before sitting back in his chair. 

“So,” he says coolly, ignoring the plain blush streaked across his face. “Can you grant me the wish? To kiss you anytime, and anywhere I want?”

“Basically, physical affection can be done anytime?” you say, quoting what this man in front of you said months ago, when both of you first agreed on the fake-dating situation. The whole absurd set-up that brought the two of you to where you are, today. 

Dongmin laughs, clearly impressed. “Yeah,” he nods. 

You give him a warm smile, glad that you’re finally able to follow your heart’s desires, and to not put up a wall of defense around him anymore. 

“Wish granted.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀want more like this? check out the 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

[00valentina-writes00]

Please i need Ambessa visiting Reader's apartment and seeing that she has a huge room dedicated to being her personal library, slightly the largest personal library Ambessa has seen in her life. Ambessa looking at Reader like "did you really read all that?" and Reader saying with a proud smile "yup, ma'am! And at least twice every book you see there". Thankssss :]

A War Room of a Different Kind

Warnings: None! Except for being a damn bookworm

Ambessa Medarda was not easily impressed. She had conquered cities, commanded armies, and stood in halls where history itself had been decided. She had seen war rooms with towering maps and strategy tables carved from the finest stone, libraries filled with dusty tomes that whispered of bloodlines and power.

And yet—nothing quite prepared her for the sheer size of your personal library.

She stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, taking in the endless shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling. The scent of aged paper and leather filled the air, a quiet, scholarly sort of authority lingering in every corner. There were books stacked neatly, books left open with annotations in the margins, books arranged by genre, subject, and—judging by the meticulous order—some personal system only you understood.

Ambessa let out a low hum, stepping further inside. The room was larger than some council chambers she had seen, filled with enough knowledge to fuel several lifetimes.

She turned to you, arching a sharp brow. “Did you really read all this?”

You grinned, standing a little taller as you clasped your hands behind your back. “Yup, ma’am! And at least twice every book you see there.”

For a long moment, Ambessa just stared at you. Not in disbelief, but in something bordering on… admiration.

Her dark eyes scanned the shelves again, fingers trailing idly over the spines of well-worn books, the touch almost reverent. “Twice,” she mused. “You read all of these twice?”

You nodded, unable to keep the smugness from your expression.

Ambessa huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “If only my generals had half your dedication.”

You shrugged. “Well, reading is a battlefield of its own.”

She smirked at that, finally turning her full attention back to you. There was something different in her gaze now—something considering, assessing. She had known you were sharp, but this? This was a weapon she had yet to see in its full force.

With slow, deliberate steps, she closed the distance between you, standing just close enough that the heat of her presence made your pulse tick up. “And what exactly,” she murmured, “does a woman with a mind like yours do with all this knowledge?”

Your smile widened. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”

Ambessa chuckled, a low, knowing sound. She reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear before stepping past you, already plucking a book from the nearest shelf.

“Then by all means,” she said, flipping through the pages, “impress me.”

Ambessa Medarda did not idle. She did not waste time in places that did not serve her. And yet, here she was—settled into the worn leather chair in the corner of your personal library, one leg crossed over the other, a book in her hands.

It had been nearly an hour since she first sat down, flipping through pages with a quiet focus that was, quite frankly, surprising. You had expected her to make some teasing remark, maybe humor you for a moment before moving on. But no—Ambessa was still here, brow furrowed as she studied the text, utterly absorbed.

You leaned against the nearest bookshelf, arms crossed, a slow smile curling at your lips. “Didn’t peg you for a history reader.”

Ambessa didn’t glance up. “History is strategy,” she murmured. “Every war, every betrayal, every rise and fall—it’s all a lesson.”

You tilted your head, amused. “And what lesson are you learning from that book?”

She finally looked at you, dark eyes sharp with something unreadable. “That you may be the most dangerous woman I’ve met.”

You laughed at that, pushing off the shelf. “Oh? And here I thought you liked dangerous women.”

“I do.” Ambessa set the book down, resting her forearms on her knees as she watched you approach. “But this?” She gestured at the towering shelves around you. “This is another kind of battlefield entirely.”

You smiled, letting the compliment settle over you like armor. “Books are just another form of power, Ambessa.” You reached for the book she had been reading, skimming the page she had left off on. “But I’m guessing you already knew that.”

Ambessa’s gaze flickered over you, her expression thoughtful. Then, with the smooth ease of a woman who had spent her life commanding, she gestured for you to come closer. “Tell me,” she said, voice low, inviting, dangerous, “if you had to choose one book—one text to outthink me—what would it be?”

You smirked, plucking a different volume from the shelf. You turned it over in your hands before handing it to her, watching as she read the title.

Her lips twitched upward. “Clever girl.”

You met her gaze, stepping between her knees with a quiet confidence. “You said you wanted to be impressed,” you murmured. “Consider this my opening move.”

Ambessa chuckled, low and approving, fingers skimming the edge of the book before pulling you down, down, until you were settled onto her lap, caged by the sheer weight of her presence.

Ambessa was warm beneath you, the solid weight of her presence a reminder of the sheer power coiled beneath her composed exterior. She held the book in one hand, fingers lazily flipping through the pages, but her attention was entirely on you.

“You look awfully smug for someone who just handed me their best weapon,” she murmured, amusement curling at the edges of her voice.

You tilted your head, letting your fingers trail along the spine of another book on the nearby table. “A weapon is only as good as the person wielding it,” you mused. “And I highly doubt you’ll use that book the way I would.”

Ambessa hummed, resting her free hand against your hip, a touch that was neither possessive nor idle—just there, like an anchor. “Is that so?”

You smirked. “You’re a warlord, Ambessa. You read for battle, for conquest. I read to know people. Their fears, their desires, their mistakes. That’s why I’ve read all of these—twice.”

She exhaled a quiet laugh, setting the book aside. “You’re a dangerous little thing,” she mused, fingers tightening slightly at your hip. “You might be the only one in this city who could outmaneuver me.”

Your smirk deepened. “Might?”

Ambessa let out a low, appreciative hum, her eyes scanning your face as if recalculating some hidden equation. Then, without warning, she shifted, gripping your chin between her fingers and tilting your head just enough to hold your gaze captive.

“You want a war of minds, little wife?” she murmured, voice rich with challenge. “Fine. But know this—when I play, I play to win.”

You swallowed, your pulse betraying you even as you refused to look away. “Then I suppose,” you whispered, leaning in just enough that your breath brushed against her lips, “you’ll have to keep coming back.”

Ambessa’s smile was slow, knowing. “Oh, I intend to.”

[jamieroyjamieroy]

Bucktommyfluffebruary Day 2 - The secret ingredient

@bucktommyfluffebruary

“I thought we were cooking this together” Tommy laughs as Evan kisses the back of his neck and runs his hands down his sides. 

“We’re together. You’re cooking. It counts.” Evan replies placing more open mouthed kisses to Tommy’s neck, his hands firmly gripping Tommy’s hips and pulling their bodies together.

“I thought you wanted to learn so you could impress Bobby on your next shift.” Tommy smiles at the contact, he’s not really complaining at the attention he is receiving. He loves being close to Evan no matter what they are doing.

“Hmm, you put the ingredients in. You stir. I got it” Evan murmurs distracted by the skin under Tommy’s shirt. That little bit of extra padding on Tommy’s stomach is exciting to Evan. While they were apart Tommy had lost too much weight and stopped taking care of himself. Once they got back together Evan made it his job to cook and bake for Tommy so he would regain what he lost. He doesn’t even miss the definition of his abs like he thought he might. Tommy has always been attractive to him and he had spent many hours kissing and licking those abs but he much prefers Tommy like this. The evidence of his ability to care for and provide for his boyfriend is even more arousing than the sacrifices Tommy needed to make so he could look good without a shirt.

“Missing a few steps baby but if you aren’t interested in my family recipes we can stop and you will never know the secret ingredient.” Tommy sighs pretending to be disappointed. He hopes the mention of a secret ingredient might just be enough to get Evan to pay attention. Not that he wants the attention that is being paid to him to stop, he was just excited to share another part of himself with Evan.

“Secret ingredient?” Evan asks head popping up to look at what Tommy’s hands are doing. It reminds Tommy of the meerkat documentary they watched last night the way Evan is looking over his shoulder and around the counter, trying to work out which one is the secret to pulling this dish together.

“Well my secret ingredient. My mother’s mother made this one a little differently. My mother changed it again slightly when she would make it for me. And I make it different again, not much but I’ve put my own little spin on the recipe.” Tommy explains measuring out each ingredient carefully. His mother was a more of an ‘add until you think it looks right’ type of cook. He has always been more precise, more controlled just like with his flying. With his life really. He is learning to be more flexible especially now that Evan has given him another chance.

“So if I teach it to our children would I get to put my own spin on it or do I have to teach them your way?” Evan asks resting his chin on Tommy’s shoulder to watch him work. He feels the moment his words register with Tommy, both their bodies tense up. Likely for different reasons, Evan didn’t mean to say that out loud so he is bracing for Tommy to reject him. He breathes deeply when he feels Tommy relax. 

“You, you think about us having children?” Tommy asks trying to look back at Evan, his arms had clenched tight around him. He can feel the worry emanating from Evan.

“I, uh, well. I know. It’s uh” Evan struggles to find the words, burying his head into Tommy’s back to hide the emotions written all over his face. 

 “I think we would have to try your version before I let you teach our children.” Tommy says rubbing a hand over Evan’s arm. Trying to comfort and reassure Evan he isn’t running away from this.

 “Yeah?” Evan asks hope filling his voice. “You, you want kids? With me?” He replaces his chin back on Tommy’s shoulder to watch him prepare their meal.

 “It’s definitely something I’ve thought about. It may be a little early to think seriously about that for us but I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me happy knowing you are thinking about it too.” Tommy answers as honestly as he can. He has a lot of concerns about being a dad especially given his shitty relationship with his own father. It’s something he hasn’t closed the door on now that Evan is back in his life.

 “I know it’s early I didn’t mean to bring it up, I’m not even certain if I want that. My parents weren’t the best role models so I don’t know if I want to pass on that generational trauma. But I’ve never really thought about even the possibility of having my own family before you. Maybe we can just be the fun uncles for Maddie and Chim’s kids. You can be their favourite Guncle, I’ll be their favourite Buncle.” Evan laughs at the thought.

 “What are you even talking about? What is a Guncle? Or a Buncle?” Tommy asks confused. His mind completely off his task of cooking, sometimes he feels every single one of his 40 years.

 “Gay uncle and Bi uncle” Evan grins ridiculously as Tommy shakes his head.

 “You are such a dork. Now pay attention so you can teach our children or our niblings how to make this.” Tommy chides pulling Evan’s arms around him tighter enjoying the feel of Evan’s lips against his cheek as he peers over to watch.

 Future Tommy and future Evan can worry about children, all he wants to do right now is enjoy the feel of his boyfriend against his back. To share with him some of his history and then maybe reassure Evan that he isn’t running away from the scary topics they both seemingly want to talk about. The way Evan is moving his hands over Tommy’s body suggests the order of those wants might be reversed. Tommy makes the wise decision to turn off the stove, cooking together can wait a little while.

Read on Ao3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Code of Conduct 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss has a difficult time keeping his personal life from bleeding into his work. 

Characters: Steve Rogers, this reader is known as Rosie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

You put Steve’s bag on the couch. It’s a backup he keeps in his trunk since he spilled coffee on himself during the merger meeting. It was your idea and you’re happy you suggested, though you never expected any of this.

Just like you didn’t expect him to ever see your apartment. Especially not today. You quickly swipe up the used mug from the table and take it into the kitchen. You call through the open doorway as you rinse it out.

“Make yourself at home, sir,” you set the cup on the counter and cut the flow of the tap. “I’ll find you a blanket and a pillow.” You dry your hands then flit back into the front room. “I’m sorry, I can only offer up the couch--”

He’s stood before the bookcase in the corner, squeezed into the narrow space. The couch is against one wall, opposite is a shorter shelf with the television and a few bunny figurines below. You’re overly conscious of the cutesy decor as he stands out of place among the pink checkered rug and fluff couch throws.

That reminds you.

On cue, Mitzy emerges, yowling for her evening meal. It’s not quite time yet but she’s an opportunist at heart. The tortoiseshell curls around your ankles and you bend to pick her up. She’s a comfort amid the intrusion of your space. You may have invited him here but it isn’t entirely by choice.

“Cozy,” remarks as he turns to you. “Oh, hi, kitty.”

He nears and Mitzy tries to crawl around your neck. She’s not a fan of strangers. You catch her before she can claw you too much and set her down. She scurries off.

“Oh, sorry,” he frowns.

“It’s not you. She’s fussy. She comes out for food and that’s about it.” You shrug.

“Ah, right,” he sniffs. “I like the bunnies.”

“Um, yeah, those... I just thought they’re cute,” you bounce nervously, “I’ll go get that blanket.”

“Sure,” he rubs his neck and look aways bashfully. “I’m sorry I’m falling apart like this, Rosie.”

“Mr. Rogers, it’s okay. We all have moments.” You assure him. If only he knew how many you had.

“You are so nice. Too nice,” he hangs his head and turns away. His shoulders slant as if he’s trying to make himself small. He’s too big for that.

You leave him and go down to find your single spare quilt and pillow. The blanket you made at a crafting class with Missie and the pillow, you think Dizzie left it here. You’re not entirely sure. 

Thinking of the girls, you wish you could ask them for a bit of advice right then. Elfie would know what to do. Billie would tell you to send your boss to a hotel, you know it. She’s probably right. Izzie would surely know what to do.

You come back as Steve stands by the window. The outline of his figure almost startles you. You’ve never had a man in your space. Not this one. You had one long-term relationship and when he decided he liked the girls on Instagram better, he booted you to the curb. Young and stupid. Still got a bit of both of those.

“Are you hungry?” You ask. “I could make some pasta or something.” You put the blanket and pillow on the couch. “Or, I could leave you alone.”

He’s quiet as he stares out at the brick wall across from your apartment. “I’m not very hungry, sweetheart.” He sniffs and reaches to wipe his face. “Do you mind if I shower?”

“Oh, sure, yeah, go ahead. I’ll get a towel.”

You grab a fresh towel and leave it in the bathroom. You busy yourself with dinner before Steve finally takes the invitation. You're a bit relieved to have a bit of time to yourself. You feel like you're still at work.

You're just about done the alfredo by the time he reappears. He's only in a pair of gym shorts, a bit bashful as he keeps the towel around his neck. You peek up and quickly go back to grating parmesan.

"Smells good. I feel fresher," he sighs.

"Mmhm," you squeak.

"Sorry, I only had gym shorts to sleep in. Gonna save the suit for tomorrow."

"That's fine. Did you want a plate?" You offer and turn away.

You never really thought about Steve like that. Never wondered about the man behind the title or the tie. He's just your boss. Still, the vision of his thickly muscled arms and stomach cloys in your head.

You plate him up linguine with sauce and sprinkle over the parmesan. It's a simple meal for a simple budget. He thanks you and sits at the small round table you don't often use without company.

Your phone vibes. You're thankful for the distraction. It's a meme in the group chat. You can't wait for the night out.

You sit with Steve to eat. You try not to look at him.

"So, who were you texting? Not to be nosy."

"Oh, it's... my friends. We're going out this week. Haven't seen them in a while."

"Sounds fun," he tries to smile. You feel bad for him.

"Maybe Bucky will be free," you suggest. "Probably a good time to catch up."

"Yeah, if he wasn't so busy at work. New partner, I guess. They don't get along."

"No? That's too bad. He always nice to me," you twirl the thick noodles around your fork.

"You like him?" Steve asks.

"Well, he's friendly. Can't say that about everyone."

"Right," he nods and takes a bite. He lowers his lashes and wiggles his nose.

"And he's your friend so... he must be as nice as you."

He swallows and looks at you with a sigh, "you're too good to me, Rosie. I'm such a mess and--" he pauses, "and you're a great cook. This is delicious."

"Oh thanks. It's pretty easy to make," you assure him.

"Yeah? Maybe you can show me. I'll have to learn since..." he leans forward suddenly and catches his head in his hands. He shoulders heave and he sobs. "I'm sorry, Rosie. I'm just going through it-- It keeps sneaking up on me."

Your heart wrenches. You feel so bad. You're not sure what to do but then you think of your friends. What would you do if they were heartbroken?

You stand and gently touch his shoulder, "it's gonna take some time."

He sniffles then suddenly, he opens his arms and snags you in and embrace. He buries his face in your stomach and weeps. You stand, frozen, and look down at his golden hair. You cautiously bring your hand up to caress his head.

"It's okay, sir, shhhh," you coax him gently. Maybe if he cries it out, he'll get some good sleep.

[i-rove-rock-n-roll]

In 5 years of managing my bipolar, I’ve never liked thinking of it as treatable. Treatable, as the above post has agreed, implies that it won’t come back after doing something specific. But the nature of a chronic disease or disorder (and really is there a difference?) is that it’s chronic—it will come back no matter what. I’ve battled depression off and on like a light switch since I was ten. Middle school was the start of horror, yet high school was a breeze. I even made it through college until the last three months where I collapsed into the March snow and had to restructure my life because everything was crumbling. (It was 2020 which didn’t help) 5 years since of different meds, some of which helped me cope and others that I learned to stay away from. Even the meds that worked for awhile ceased eventually, and while I wasn’t back at square one, I definitely felt like I had taken 2 steps forward and 1 step back.

What I’m trying to say is this: you can manage your mental health in many different ways, to varying degrees of success, but that is your future. Management. Remembering medicine everyday, working out, making an effort not to just eat everything in sight—sugar or carbs or what have you—that is what becomes your norm to keep yourself steady. When you start to fight for your right to be happy it’s like climbing a giant icy hill. It’s hard, and you want to give up, but somehow, even if you don’t realize it until months or years down the road, the climb has gotten easier, until one day you find yourself at the top.

That where I am at today, and while it may not last forever, I know I can make it again someday.

I've started to dislike the term "treatable" in terms of disability and mental health but specifically because people often treat "treatable" as "curable" and are unable or unwilling to engage in the idea that you can be in treatment for something but still be affected by your condition.

I have a lifelong, incurable (but treatable) chronic condition. It affects me deeply - it's been weeks, and I am still recovering from a bout of it being worse than usual. And it's going to affect me regardless of treatment and regardless of how well treatment goes - because it's incurable and chronic.

Yes, I am able to treat my condition. No, it isn't magically cured because I'm in treatment. Yes, I will always have this condition no matter how much I wish I didn't. And I wish people would push past their discomfort with the idea that not everything is "curable."

[goshikisbaee]

Spending Valentine’s Day With Haikyuu Characters (part 1)

content: Fluff

[ Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Kuroo, Bokuto, Akaashi ]

———-

TŌRU OIKAWA

Valentine’s Day with Oikawa is nothing short of extra. From the moment you wake up, there’s a bouquet of your favorite flowers waiting for you with a note in his neat handwriting: “For the most beautiful person in my life.” He insists on making the day perfect— though his definition of “perfect” may include a little too much of his dramatic flair.

He shows up to pick you up in his favorite casual but classy outfit, grinning like he’s just won a championship match. “You didn’t think I’d forget, did you, my love?” he teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

He takes you to a cute café where he spends half the time holding your hand across the table and the other half bragging about how he managed to snag the “best date” in the world. The barista can’t help but roll their eyes at his antics, but you can’t stop laughing.

In true Oikawa fashion, the evening involves stargazing—because of course he has to incorporate something romantic and dreamy. Lying beside you, he points out random constellations, only half accurate because he’s too busy sneaking glances at you.

“I dont need the stars when I’ve got you,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. Cheesy? Absolutely. But with him, it’s always endearing.

The night ends with him pulling you close, a soft, genuine smile replacing his usual cocky grin. “Thank you for being my Valentine,” he whispers, his voice quieter than usual. “I promise, you’ll always be my number one.”

HAJIME IWAIZUMI

Valentine’s day with Iwaizumi is simple but meaningful. He’s not one for grand romantic gestures, but he makes sure you feel loved in the ways that matter. When you wake up, there’s a nearly wrapped box on your nightstand—inside is a practical yet thoughtful gift, like a hoodie that smells like him or your favorite snacks. “Didn’t wanna get you something useless,” the note reads.

When he picks you up, he’s dressed casually, but you cant tell he put in a little extra effort—his hair is styled just right, and he’s actually wearing that nice cologne you love. He greets you with a gruff, “you look nice,” before quickly looking away, ears slightly red.

Dinner is at his favorite spot—nothing fancy, just good food and a comfortable atmosphere. He doesnt gush over you like someone like Oikawa would, but his small actions say everything: making sure you get the last bite, keeping his hand on your knee absentmindedly, sending a death glare at anything who looks at you for too long.

After dinner, he surprises you with a late night drive, ending at a quiet scenic spot. Sitting beside you, he lets out a deep sigh, looking up at the sky. “I know I dont say it a lot, but… I’m really lucky to have you.” His fingers find yours, squeezing them gently.

Before you part ways, he pulls you into a warm, lingering hug, resting his chin on your head. “Happy Valentine’s Day idiot,” he mutters, voice softer than usual. You smile, knowing that even without the over the top romance, every moment with him is real.

TETSURŌ KUROO

Valentine’s Day with Kuroo is fun—because, of course, he turns everything into an opportunity to tease you. You wake up to a text that reads; “Happy Valentine’s Day to my favorite nerd. Yes, you’re my favorite. No you can’t tell anyone.” A few minutes later, another message: “wear something cute. Not that you need help looking good, but, you know… for my sake.”

When he picks you up, he greets you with his signature smirk and a ridiculous gift—maybe a cat plushie because “it reminded me of myself. Handsome, charming, and definitely your favorite.” But before you can roll your eyes, he hands you something real—your favorite snack or a small thoughtful present that proves he actually pays attention.

Dinner is at a casual yet surprisingly nice restaurant, where he spends half the time making flirty comments and the other half pretending to listen while secretly just admiring you. “You know, I’d let you ramble about anything if it means I get to keep looking at you.”

After dinner, he takes you somewhere unexpected—maybe a late night arcade or a rooftop with a city view. Sitting next to you, he finally drops the teasing for a second, nudging your shoulder before saying, “you know, I joke around a lot, but I mean it when I say you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Before the night ends, he pulls you into by the waist, looking down at you with that lazy grin. “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe. Hope you’re ready for many more.” And with that, he finally gives you the kiss he’s been holding off all night.

KŌTARŌ BOKUTO

Valentine’s Day with Bokuto is non stop excitement from the moment it begins. You wake up to a spam of texts:

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!!”

“WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP”

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS???”

“IT’S THE DAY I GET TO SPOIL YOU, DUH.”

When he finally picks you up, he’s practically bouncing with energy, holding a massive bouquet—probably way bigger than necessary. “I didn’t know which flowers to get, so I got all of them!” He grins, handing them over like he just won an award.

Your date is a mix of everything fun—he takes you to an arcade, a cute café, and maybe even a spontaneous adventure like ice skating (which he’s surprisingly good at). Every few minutes, he reminds you, “BEST. DAY. EVER.” And insists on taking a million selfies.

At dinner, he’s a mix of loud excitement and soft admiration, stuffing his face one second and staring at you like you hung the moon the next. “I’m so lucky,” he sighs dramatically between bites, before pointing his fork at you. “Hey. You know that, right? That I love you?”

The night ends with him wrapping you in the biggest hug ever, lifting you off the ground effortlessly. “Best Valentine’s Day ever,” he declares, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. Then, with a cheeky grin, he adds, “same time next year? Actually, scratch that. Every day should be like this.”

KEIJI AKAASHI

Valentine’s Day with Akaashi is quietly romantic, filled with soft gestures that show just how much he cares. You wake up to a neatly written note left at your bedside—“happy Valentine’s Day. I hope today is as wonderful as you are.” A little later, he texts: “Are you free? I have something planned.”

When he picks you up, he hands you a small but meaningful gift—maybe a book you mentioned wanting, or a handwritten letter sealed in an envelope. “I wasn’t sure what to get you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “so I just got something that reminded me of you.”

Your date is simple but perfect—maybe a quiet bookstore café, a scenic walk, or a cozy home-cooked dinner. He pays attention to everything you say, responding with soft hums and amused smiles. “I love listening to you talk,” he admits, twirling a piece of his food with his fork.

At the end of the night, he lingers at your doorstep, eyes gentle but hesitant. “I, um…” He exhales, gathering his thoughts before finally meeting your gaze. “I just want you to know that I’m really, really happy with you.”

Before you can respond, he leans in and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs, lips curling into the faintest smile. “I hope I get to spend all of them with you.”

———

[judesmoonbeauty]

A Day With Jude Jazza: Chapter Three "16:00 Negotiations at Twilight"

Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

[Ellis POV]

Jeweler Man: And so, this is…..

After the three of us had eaten lunch, Kate was escorted back to the company, and I joined Jude for a business meeting.

(I’m just standing at the back but….)

From the view behind Jude, who’s sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed while smoking a cigarette, 

Those who know him, can see that he finds the situation annoying—.

Jude: My company recognizes the superior quality of the gemstones your company handles, 

Jude: Therefore, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to look over the products, if I may?

His fluent Queen’s English is a far cry from the usual Jude.

Jeweler Man: Certainly, here are the newest pieces that have just been completed.

When the man calls out, a person appears with a tray in hand, and places the products on the table. 

All of the various accessories that were superbly designed were decorated with colorful jewels.

Suddenly, Jude reached for a single necklace.

Jeweler Man: This one is made with a moonstone, and due to it being a delicate stone, we left it simple without much polishing.

(Somehow, it resembles Kate.)

The milky-white moonstone emits a soft light, giving a gentle impression. 

I didn’t miss the moment Jude’s profile softened as he gazed at it.

(Oh, he’s thinking about Kate now.)

Since they started dating, Jude looks kind from time to time.

I realized that he was thinking of Kate, because he has the same expression as he does when he looks at her from behind. 

Jeweler Man: Please take it, if it pleases you.

Jude: Hm? 

Jeweler Man: As a token of appreciation for the opportunity to do business with Raven.

As Jude hesitates, I discreetly whisper from behind.

Ellis: I think it suits Kate.

He glared so hard at me that I could’ve heard it, so I kept my mouth shut…..

Jude: ….I’d like to take this one, but I’ll pay for it.

Jude: To build a better relationship from here on.

That’s what he says, but I get it.

(It seems like he doesn’t want to give Kate something without doing anything for it.)

He has a strong sense of duty, that’s just how it is. 

(But I’m sure it’ll suit her and she’ll be happy.)

After watching the man rise from his seat to package the necklace, Jude then turns around.

Jude: What’re ya grinnin’ ‘bout, it’s creepy.

(Jude probably doesn’t realize it.)

Whenever he thinks of Kate, his expression softens.

Ellis: No, it’s nothing.

Jude: …..Tch.

(So, until the time Kate notices.)

Until then, I’ll keep playing dumb.

[Event Master list] [Next - ⏱♡ 18:00 - Night Raid: Jude POV]

Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

If you wish to be added to my translations tag list, and are +18 YO, then please comment below! If you wish to be removed, please do the same.

Tag list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @goustmilk @kraiyne

[alittlesongbirdchirps]

🐦🔫 HONEY I SHRUNK THE ROBINS

Damien shoved Tim as they entered the cave.

“Drake, your foolishness allowed the cretin to get away.”

Tim quickly caught himself before falling and turned around glaring at Damien, his eyebrow twitching in irration.

“Bat protocols; hit with anything unknown, return the cave, someone who never lets anyone forget they are the blood son of the bat should know that.”

Damien's jaw tightens

“And someone who should know their place imposter should not order me around.”

He stated through gritted teeth, before turning away and going to hang his sword up when Tim scoffed and muttered something under his breath; as he was about to press his comm to let the others know they had returned and briefly report why there returned earlier, Damien's snarl cut him off.

“What was that, Drake?”

It was more like damned than a question, Damien’s grip grew tighter on his sword as he stepped away from the wall mount.

Tim rolled his eyes in response, not fazed at all.

“I said nothing, You are hearing things again, demon.”

Damien suddenly launched at him, Tim quickly moved his hand away from the comm dodging quickly, before shoving Damien back, who instantly prepared himself to launch another attack at him.

This time, however, he pointed his sword in Tim’s direction.

“You dare mock me and then try to fool me,you are a coward, but that’s nothing new, Drake.”

He snarled, raising his sword high, ready to charge,Tim quickly ready himself, preparing for the assault.

But it didn’t happen,he watched as Damien let out a cry before falling to his knees, clutching his side.

Tim let out a scoff.

“A bit of a delayed reaction, and I didn’t even shove you that hard, trying to use a tactic like that,that’s low even for you demon spawn and-“

“shit.”

Realisng Damien wasn’t faking, he quickly rushed forward.

“Damien?!”

Panic was in his voice as he reached to check his vitals, while his other hand was about to press on the comm until he suddenly felt intense pain, just like Damien falling to his knees.

Overwhelmed by the searing, crushing pain in his bones, Tim couldn’t scream,unlike Damien.

His eyes slammed shut instinctively, but as soon as the pain subsided, he tremblingly opened his eyes and hurried to see if Damien was okay.

A groan escaped Damien’s lip, which quickly prompted Tim to recheck Damien’s vitals and his body for any injuries, finding none.

Which in Tim’s mind could only mean one thing: that the Ray that they were both hit with earlier was the cause.

He pressed his comm in attempt to update the others. Only to be met with static, leaving his brow furrowed in confusion.

“comms are down?”

That wasn’t the only strange thing he was beginning to notice, as a strong smell hit him it smelt damp except the smell was so strong it smelt like it was coming from everywhere.

Along with that, he now noticed the environment was different, instantly thinking the worst, that they may have led the villain back to the cave and now they were kidnapped.

That dark theory was quickly disproven as his eye continued to scan the surroundings, leaving him with the shocking realisation, no they were still in the cave, it’s just everything seemed to have grown, or maybe it didn’t grow, maybe they shrunk.

Damien’s voice cut him out of his train of thought.

“what’s going on Drake?”

he asked, sounding rather groggy.

Tim let out a breath of relief.

“Good, you’re alive.”

Damien looked offended

“of course I am. I am not a weakling unlike you.”

Damien spat, as he began to push himself up, legs wobbling, almost looking like a faun.

Tim grinned.

“wipe that look off your face, Drake, before I slice it off.”

Tim faked pouted

“But you’re just so precious.”

He mocked his older brother’s voice. Damien’s eyes narrowed probably plotting out Tim’s death before Damien finally noticed their environment.

“I’ll ask again, what’s going on?”

He damned looking around at the unfamiliar environment, but Tim didn’t even need to answer as he seemed to already figured it out,he looked rather bewildered

“This is the reason we go to the cave when hit with an unknown.”

He told in a smug tone.

Damien scoffed in annoyance before looking around once again at how massive everything was now, his grip on his sword growing tighter.

Tim pressed his comm again as if hoping it would work, but it didn’t.

He sighed.

“At any point, while we were coming back, you didn’t happen to let anyone know, did you?”

Damien scoffed.

“That’s not my job,besides the point why does that matter to our current predicament?”

Tim paused, trying not to snap because this situation was serious,he needed to treat this like a mission gone wrong.

Tim’s hands were clutched together tightly as he spoke.

“Comms are down, which means we can’t tell them of our current predicament, which also means they don’t know we returned, which means they don’t know we were hit with an unknown.”

Then Tim gestured to their surroundings, dust floating past them.

“They aren’t gonna see us,I mean, look at how much bigger everything else is in comparison to us right now..”

Damien’s face fell.

“Are you implying that no one will know we are in here? Father and Grayson won’t see us?”

Tim groaned in annoyance, rubbing his temple, and sarcastically responded.

“Who would have guessed you only mention those two. The others as well, Damien.”

“Their the only two who matter.”

Damien sneered.

Tim rolled his eyes, placing his hands in front of himself almost defensively.

“Let’s just not fight for a second. I need to figure out how small we are.”

Damien went to respond, but Tim held one finger up in front of his face.Shushing him.

“How dare you think you can-“

Tim cut him off

“Where a quarter of an inch at most, comparing us to other items in the cave right now.”

Damien growled.

“Your calculations must be off, because that would mean there are insects who are bigger than us!”

Damien’s eyes bored into Tim, but seeing how serious Tim was caused him to falter. The situation finally fully sinking in.

“Most insects eat smaller insects in their diet, we are smaller than most insects....”

It was almost a whisper.

Tim’s face softened, getting closer to him. He would have crouched if he wasn’t sure that Damien would have slammed his elbow into his gut.

“I know Damien. Unfortunately, that’s not our only issue. As we established, the others won’t see us, which points to a high probability of being squashed, then eaten by bugs.”

Damien’s face grimaced before growling.

“How dare you even imply father would break his no-kill rule?”

Tim wanted to hit his head against a wall. He thought he was getting through to him, so he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“He doesn’t have a sixth sense for shrunken people Damien, and neither do the others.”

He stated in frustration.

“Look Damien, our main issue right now is to avoid being squashed.”

“So our first priority should be getting to higher ground and our second property should be to find a way to alert the others of our current situation. Which our best bet would be the bat-computer.”

Damien looked around before spotting the giant bat-computer. He could barely make out because how large it was, as well as how far it seemed.

“It looks like a mountain Drake, how do you even think we could get to it?”

Tim sighed.

“I know that’s why I said second priority because that’s at least a two-day walk, not even thinking about any other issues that might come up.”

He quickly smiled.

“besides that’s still a positive.”

Damien made an Are you serious face.

“A positive? Are you serious Drake, you said it’s at least a two-day walk, not to mention how long it could take us to climb it!”

Tim shrugged.

“it is a positive because we aren’t further away than we could be.”

Damien's hands shock angrily by his side before he sarcastically responded.

“Oh, but I guess we could use our grapples, but wait, everything is a hundredth our size.”

“They won’t hook to anything!”

It’s taking everything in Tim not to strangle the brat. He quickly moved his hands through his utility belt pouches.

“Listen, Brat, I have things in my utility belt for a situation where I can’t use a grapple.”

“Oh, do tell Drake.”

He snarled.

Tim begun to pull out a pair of suction cups.

Damien gaped, and he looked rather confounded.

“How do they even fit in there?”

Tim smirked.

“The unknown mystery of the bat uti-“

He was cut off, as there was a very loud rumble.

He and Damien’s hands instantly went to cover their ears in hopes of blocking out the almost ear-shattering sound.

Tim quickly took his hands off his ears, pointing to his utility belt. Damien stared down in confusion before watching Tim pull out the earplugs,his eyes widened and quickly did the same.

They could still hear the sound, but it wasn’t as painfully loud as it was. These were, after all, Canary-proof earplugs.

Tim was trying to decide what to do next and quickly because he and Damien both knew that loud rumbling could only belong to one thing; an engine of a vehicle.

But before he could think too hard, his body moved on its own and he flung himself in Damien’s direction, grabbing the now thrashing boy in his grip.

If it wasn’t for the earplugs, he could bet Damien would be screeching at him.

Damien’s thrashing was making it harder to hold him.

It was clear he hadn’t realised what Tim did and right before Damien broke out of his grip, a giant boot slammed down right next to them and the sheer force sent them flying back.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Dick jumped out of the Batmobile first, doing a stretch, moving his arms and legs.

“First one back, how unlike you.”

Dick teases before Bruce lets out a grunt, coming around the other side of the vehicle.

“Unfortunately, I have a report I need to make to the league.”

Dick only smirks, hands behind his head.

“Well, whatever the case is, baby bat will probably celebrate staying out longer than us.”

Bruce nodded, a slight smile appearing on his face.

“Yes, I hope those two are getting along.”

“You say that as if neither of them are smart enough to realise what you were trying to do.”

Bruce sighs, going towards the bat-computer, slumping against the chair tiredly.

“Let’s just hope it works.”

Dick only grins

“They’ll be fine. Give it enough time and they’ll be getting along.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim groaned in pain and was thankful for all his gear.

He quickly took the earplugs out before slowly getting up.He felt rather dizzy and sore.

“Damien?”

He coughed out, a bit winded.

When Damien didn’t answer, his heart stopped. He quickly dragged himself up and his face fell for a moment, only to calm down when he saw Damien already sitting up. He seemed to be in a state of shock, fear across his face.

“Are you okay?”

Tim’s voice was soft as he spoke, concern and worry laced within it.

Damien’s head moved in his direction, processing what Tim had just asked before his face of fear slipped turning into anger as he glared up at him.

“I’m perfectly fine, you imbecile. I didn’t need saving, especially not from you.”

Tim could have taken this moment to tell him without him, he would be mush on the ground, but he didn’t.

All he said was.

“Okay.”

Damien didn’t move from his sitting position, but he spoke.

“What now? You claim to be so smart Drake, you must know what we should do now.”

Tim paused.

“Yeh-Uh.”

Now he was beginning to process,how their lives nearly just ended. His nails were digging into his palm as he thought, but he shook his head, snapping out of it.

He needed to put processing this to the back of his mind. And start thinking logically.

He took a deep breath in before speaking.

“Like I said earlier, we need to get to higher ground, so where out of harm’s way.”

His eyes quickly moved around before spotting and pointing something in the distance.

“I think that’s the med-table. I can’t tell at this size, but it should be about an hour’s walk. It’s the closest thing.”

It was silent between the two; before Damien let out a shaky brief and pushed himself up.

“Then what are you waiting for, you fool let’s go.”

(Hope you like it. I was trying to use more descriptive words lol, sorry for any grammar mistakes.)

I think I’m slowly getting better at writing lol.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

earning your stripes - part two

✯ pairing:

racer!rafe cameron x fem sports reporter!reader

✯ summary:

sports reporter, y/n edwards, has the opportunity of a lifetime - interviewing nascar driver, rafe cameron. But, it may be a little bit more than she bargained for.

✯ warnings:

rafe is a sexy cocky bitch, reader is a queen, sexual innuendos, eventual smut, mature themes, rafe low key is a bitch, etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity back in 2021/2022 and i have rewritten + reshared it here :)

You kept thinking about Rafe after your initial interaction, but you weren’t going to let him know that and you weren’t going to go running back to your bosses crying about a boy being mean to you and refusing to interview him. Racing was already a predominantly male driven sport and that didn’t leave a lot of room for you at the table, but you had worked hard and become someone that every household recognized, they called you one of Nascar's leading women now and you were damn proud of that. You weren’t going to let some meat head race car driver convince you that you weren’t something special, even if he was beautiful and chiseled in all the right places and a leader on the track. Nope. You couldn’t go there. As dreamy as he was, he had ruined any amount of respect you’d initially had for him, simply by opening his mouth. You were brought out of your thoughts as your phone chirped, Alex’s name littering across the screen. 

Green onion. Tonight 9pm. 

You giggled at the text, knowing that she wouldn’t take no for an answer before you sent your reply. 

Only if you wear something sexy ;)

Bitch, get real. 

Her reply came with a quickness, just as you had expected and you giggled, knowing that Alex was always wearing something sexy and always, always going to look good in a bar on a friday night. You wished you could be more confident and carefree like she was. 

- 

Nine o’clock came quickly. You had wasted most of the day going over the stats of every driver in preparation for tomorrow’s race. By your account, Rafe was set to win tomorrow and Topper would probably come second or third. You liked those odds. Though, deep down if Rafe wasn’t as good of a driver, you might find him less sexy, which would be a good thing. You got up from your desk at 8:45pm, living close to downtown had its perks and not having to leave early for things was one of them. You dressed quickly in a black lacy tank top and low-rise jeans, curling your hair and throwing on a little bit of makeup before grabbing your purse and keys and heading out the door. 

By the time you got to the bar, Alex was already about five drinks deep, as you’d expected. She always pre-gamed a little too hard, even when you were in college. You found her on top of a barstool drooling over a questionable looking man as he tucked her long black hair behind her ears. 

“Mind if I cut in?” 

You asked and she leapt up, squealing and pulling you in for a hug. 

“It’s about time you got here, this guy is boring!” 

She exclaimed. 

“Alex, honey, be nice.” 

You chastised her, though doing so in her drunken state you knew was a waste of time. 

“Sorry.” 

You mouthed to him and he just smiled and walked away, leaving you to tend to her antics by yourself. 

“Wanna dance!” 

She exclaimed in your ear and you merely nodded, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the dance floor. You danced for a brief moment, the dim light of the bar and the combination of the dj’s uplights created a feeling of ecstasy amidst the drinks that men in the bar kept supplying the two of you with. You continued to grind against Alex for about thirty minutes, the music bumping so violently that you could feel it under your feet. You walked out of the crowd and back to the bar for another drink when you ran into someone familiar. 

“Hey, y/n.” 

Topper said with a smile and you returned the gesture. 

“Hi, Top. Who’re your friends?” 

You questioned and he introduced them one by one. 

“Guys – this is Nascar's leading lady, y/n.” 

You blushed at Topper’s compliment. For a driver, he wasn’t half bad, he was even sweet to you most of the time. 

“Y/n – this is Kyle, Corbin, Zack, and Rafe.” 

You hadn’t even registered that the Rafe Topper was referring to was the same Rafe that you were trying so desperately to forget. Though, you probably should have; what kind of name is Rafe anyways? You remained polite as each boy said hello to you, returning the pleasantries and as your eyes met his, you swallowed thickly. He smiled that same shit eating grin and you pretended you didn’t know who he was. That’s what any self-respecting person would do in this situation, right? 

“Nice to meet you guys!” 

You exclaimed, tipping the drink in your hand and they returned the gesture, tipping their’s right back in your direction. 

“So, Nascar’s leading lady, huh? How’d you wind up, racing?” 

The one who’d introduced himself as Corbin asked and you giggled. 

“Oh, I’m not a driver! I enjoyed it a long time ago – my dad got me into it. But, I’m a sport’s reporter now, so I report on just about all of you.” 

At your revelation, Rafe almost spit out his drink, suddenly realizing who exactly you were and why you had probably made your way up to his garage the other night. Why had he made that stupid joke? 

“Anyways, Top, I’m here with Alex so I better get back to her. I’ll see you tomorrow though.” 

You said in a sweet sing-song voice before bringing him in for a hug. 

“Alright, call me if you need anything.” 

He said, rubbing the back of your hair. You nodded in response before pulling away and heading back to the dance floor where ALex was grinding on the man she had earlier been flirting with. Topper’s eyes lingered on your figure, making sure you got from point A to point B before tearing his eyes away. 

“Topper, please tell me that’s not who I think it is.” 

Rafe asked with bewildered eyes. 

“Well, who do you think it is?” 

Topper questioned. 

“She’s the hot broadcaster, isn’t she? The one all the guys like?” 

Rafe asked, fear lacing his normally overzealous and cocky tone. 

“She’s more than that, but yeah, that’s the same girl. Why?” 

Topper quickly responded. 

“I. fucked. up. – Top.” 

He muttered in a voice so low and choppy, enunciating the words in a tone so serious yet quiet that Topper almost didn’t catch what he said under the pressure of the music against his ears. 

“What did you do this time?” 

He questioned, annoyance lacing his tone. 

“I may or may not have made a joke at her expense when she came to interview me the other day.” 

Topper rolled his eyes in response.

“Rafe, what did you say to her?” 

He growled, grinding his molars against each other.

“I may or may not have asked her if she was an escort?” 

He replied sheepishly. 

“God! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” 

Topper was yelling at this point, so unabashedly ashamed of Rafe’s behavior and his incessant need to ruin everything. He found it comical really, the way Rafe had the ability to put his foot in his mouth within moments of meeting women; his douchebaggery could . Though, this time, it was at the expense of you – someone topper cared for deeply, and you – you weren’t just some girl in a bar. 

“I was trying to be funny and she looked so sad, Topper.” 

He replied, seemingly remorseful. 

“Of course she did, you idiot! What? You thought she was going to be happy about that?” 

He asked in an accusatory tone and Rafe could only glance between you and back to Topper, like a chastised dog. 

“Rafe, you need to find a way to make it right. She’s sweet. Joke or not – she didn’t deserve to be made to feel like that.” 

Topper growled.

“I promise, I will.” 

Rafe muttered in response, tipping back the neck of the beer bottle as it met his lips. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

taglist:

as always, if you'd like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please shoot me an ask or comment on this post so i can keep track <3

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt @akobx @allsmilesreally7 @wtfdudesblog @urdreamgirl12 @hockeybabe87 @sereneera @annaconscience @pogueprincesa @bibissparkles @obxbigsis @jjmaybankmylovee @kulekehe

[idkfitememate]

Hear me out but horse!creator finding out where kaeya live and just flopping on his bed and just falling asleep. I don’t know how they fit, he problem has the princess wooden bed polls on his bed frame if anything. But just horse!creator back on the bed hooves up Towards the ceiling, with kaeya coming back for patrol or to drunk and needed a nap maybe diluc has to bring him back home and they just see a horse on the bed snoozing away.

Ps I feel out of spite if not just to mess with kaeya that horse!creator likes to be with diluc

-🐎anon



Neigh

My House Now

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : Diluc & Kaeya x Horse!Reader

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. :

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Crack & Crack

“What the…” Those were the only words that could leave Diluc’s lips.

Before him you lay in Kaeya’s bed, completely covering the spread, hooves in the air and mouth wide open allowing your demonic snores to fill the room.

Diluc huffed, adjusting Kaeya Om his shoulder while continuing to stare at you to try and make sense of the situation. While thinking, you shifted, rolling over to face the duo with a loud thump. The readheads eyes traveled to the bluehead who hiccuped in his sleep - terrifying and should’ve woken him up but didn’t so that was concerning - then to you, who snored away and twitched lightly.

For a moment, Diluc heavily considered just tossing his brother overtop your body and calling it a night - as it was cutting into his… nightly activities.

Deciding to find some mercy in his heart, Diluc gently set his brother down propped up against the bed, then walked over and started to gently shake your… shoulders??? He had no clue anymore but was a little too done to care.

After light shakes didn’t work, he moved to harsher shakes, then full on throttling, he may have even gave you a little tap whos to say.

Eventually after a few solid minutes of shaking Diluc gave a reluctant sigh, rising off the bed and making his way to pick up his brother. Once safe in his arms he turned around, only to be met with your silent, standing form behind him.

He jumped, shock clumsily hidden after a moment which led to you both staring each other down. Diluc analyzed you in the silence, noting your barely visible breathing and somehow scarily sharp eyes despite just waking up. He was again shocked when you started to walk, floorboards creaking under your weight while you shoved yourself behind him, angry curses and muttered whispered under his breath.

Once settled fully behind him - and be for r he could fully react - you grabbed the man by his scruff in your teeth. He flinched hard, immediately moving to fight back against you. You snort as you start to push him out of the room, the awkward position causing him to stumble over his own feet as you led him out.

A few long, torturous minutes later you came to the front room. You stop pushing Diluc, allowing him to take a moment to breathe. Before he could complain you snatched Kaeya out of his arms and toss him onto the couch with minimal effort.

Diluc was at the point where he couldn’t even be shocked anymore.

Then, you walked back over and gripped his collar in your teeth, and threw him out the front door.

Diluc stared at the door, looked at his hands, and simply walked off.

“I don’t have time to deal with this…”

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍨🍮🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Kaeya woke to sun in his face and crusty and sweaty clothes clinging to his back. Something else he noticed was the smell.

The smell of eggs and breakfast.

Wicked hangover pounding in his head, the Captain walked into the kitchen to find you standing with a pan with frying eggs.

Without looking at him you plate the eggs, revealing a wide spread of foods. You snorted at his jaw dropped expression and walked over to him, hooves clicking across the floor. When you reached Kaeya you placed a hoof under his chin and closed it, the squeezing beside him and out of the kitchen leaving him to his breakfast.

“What… the fuck..?”

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : I feel like Horse!Creator Reader is deadass just. The horse from Tangled. You know which one.

[gears-twisting-and-turning]

Stex x reader request if you don’t mind! How would greaseball react if you were “his” coach and after a fight you were instead racing with Electra, and vice versa (Electra’s component racing with GB after you argue?) thank you I love your imagines!! 🚂 🩷

I may or may not have gone a bit to far with this request- It was so juicy I just had to kind of go wild. I really hope you like it :]

She/they/him pronouns for Electra by the way

Also assumed it was like old GB + Electra :]

Cw - yelling, cursing, people not communicating omg just say something, but also don't it makes it juicier <3

---

Greaseball would be pissed to say the least. Yes he knows he kind of messed up, but you fucking went with the walking talking Dutch?… American?…. French??? Whatever walking talking flag he is!

Finding out later that it was technically his own fault, since you were trying to get back at him for the argument that had happened earlier would kind of send his entire world spirling. 

Hey hasn’t he seen this song and dance before? That’s crazy- 

Voices were getting louder and louder by the second. You have had enough of Greaseball’s constant cheating and you didn’t want to race with him anymore if he continued to do so. Don’t get it twisted, you were fine on the race track, you even could throw in a punch yourself, you loved doing it.

It was the fact it was getting tiring, you loved the thrill of racing, but you wished it would for once come out without dents in your body because he had uncoupled you too hard while standing off with someone in the middle of the track. Or have the other engines pull on you to make the champion slower.

When you had told Greaseball this, things didn’t go that well. It turned into a screaming match between the two, currently you had tuned him out, used to his loud yelling. That was until certain words hit your ear.

“Well if it’s such a problem, then why don’t you find a ‘better engine’ to race with?!” He didn’t give you a moment to process as he turned around and skated away. You knew you had been uncoupled, yet instead of sadness and regret that he expected you to feel, you only felt your blood boil hotter. 

You weren’t going to stand for this, this loud, abrasive asshole wasn’t going to treat you like a child and put you in the corner for a time out unless you knew how to behave. You skated up to the electric’s dock building, marching right in without a second thought.

Soon enough Krupp had rolled up to you, making you stop right in your tracks as the stocky armaments truck stood in your path. “Halt!” He said in a firm tone, making you realize just how crazy you probably looked. With a sigh you held up your hands. “Sorry if I came off as aggressive, I just need to talk to Electra.” “Electra isn’t taking any visitors currently.” Krupp answered, not asking why you were here as it wasn’t his business and he didn’t seem particularly interested in your reason. You felt your anger return for a moment, but you held back. You took a deep breath. “It’s important, I promise you that he’ll want to know.”

Krupp raised an eyebrow, no doubt confused under those sunglasses of his, before looking back. He opened his mouth to respond, until you quickly added. “It’s about the race and Greaseball.” The truck looked at you for a moment, before looking over at Purse who happened to be lingering near.

“Purse, get Electra. Tell them Greaseball’s coach has something to talk to her about.” 

Soon enough the red, white and blue electric engine stood in front of you. “You better have a good reason why I have been called.” They started, looking down at you from their freakishly tall height with a glare. 

You just wanted this over with, but you had to persist. There was only one thing that Greaseball couldn’t stand, something that was easy to get underneath his skin. “I want to race with you.” 

Electra faltered only for a moment, you didn’t know if it was because of your surprising authoritative tone, or if it was because of the contents of the sentence you just spoke to him. You could physically see the several questions that bounced in her head, before she shook her head. “Why?”

“Because after I brought up a valid concern he uncoupled me and left me in the dust ‘to think about what I’ve done’. I’m not letting him walk over me…” You trailed off, if this was going to work you’d have to put in a bit of… persuasion to get Electra to agree. “And what would piss him off more, than me going for the handsome, speedy electric that would leave him in the dust?” You said skating around her, softly touching their arm back and other arm as you circled her. 

For a moment Electra glared down at you, yet it was clear he was thinking about it. “Deal.” He said after a bit and you knew it was going to be perfect. 

It was time, you stood ready for control to announce your new race partner with you behind him. You couldn’t wait to see Greaseball’s face when he realized he had messed up and you weren’t going to take this back unless he started growling on his knees for you.

You heard control call out Electra’s name and soon you felt yourself being pulled forwards by the electric engine, the crowd cheering as you two came out of the docks and underneath the beautiful light that illuminated the both of you perfectly. 

After taking in the beautiful scenery with the crowd’s excited cheering in for a bit, you turned your head towards Greaseball who seemed to shake off the look of surprise on his face and then gave you a look that was perfectly between the emotions of anger and hurt.

You could only give him a mean smirk, before letting your face fall and let him see how pissed you were at him. Further than that the race was a blur, all you knew is that you won with Electra in front of you.

After the race was over the consequences came in full force. Although you had tuned out the way, Greaseball came up to Electra and the both of them got into a verbal fighting match, until Electra decided to stomp away in a childish fit of rage. Luckily you were already uncoupled, but that left you and Greaseball alone.

“You dared to go to that damn electric just to humiliate me?!” He roared in anger, turning towards you. You gave him a harsh glare and held up your hand. “I will not be yelled at Greaseball. If you have a problem, talk like a fucking adult.” 

Greaseball faltered, almost as if he forgot you wouldn’t let yourself get walked all over. He stepped back, anger still visible in his eyes, but clearly didn’t have a proper way to express that other than yelling. 

You took a deep breath. “Okay I’ll admit that was petty of me, but can you really blame me after you left me in the dust like that? One argument was all it took for you to leave me.” You said, the hurt finally seeping into your tone as all of your own anger finally disappeared and made way for the sadness you felt. 

“I-... Fuck, I'm sorry.” Greaseball said, practically forcing the words out of his throat as if they were foreign to him. “I’m too.” You simply responded, it was exhausting enough to keep all that anger up. You kind of wished to already be back in his arms and forget about the stupid race.

Luckily you got your wish as the diesel engine skated closer towards you and put his strong arms around you. For a moment you let your guard down, leaning into the embrace of him as the two of you stood there in silence.

“Was he better than me?”

“I never want to be behind an electric again.” You responded matter of factly. “I like the purr your engine gives.”

---

Electra would not be off any better than Greaseball. Although their anger is a lot more stomping their feet with a chance of getting a zap sent towards you. You’re just lucky he would never hurt you like that.

Not only did you not race with them, but it’s with that loud, toxic masculine, diesel??? She cannot even fathom why the hell in your right mind you would race with a filthy, greasy engine like Greaseball. 

They wouldn’t even know what to do with herself. You might just send him absolutely spirling or fainting in his compartment’s arms like when Pearl decided to go with Greaseball…. hey are you getting deja vu or is that just me? 

That’s it, you were done being side lined. You understood Electra racing with Volta, she was by far the best choice out of all of you as she was composed, knew how to handle herself and was positively elegant on the racing track. 

Not to mention she was part of your group and yet there you were, standing and staring at this new observation car that suddenly showed up. Apparently Volta had a headache (What an amazing lie, Purse) and couldn’t race with Electra anymore, so apparently she was the next best option and was chosen to race with them.

You knew that it wasn’t Purse’s fault as he was just following orders, but you couldn’t help but feel a little salty here. Not only were you the next best person to race with them, he was your fucking partner. So now you were cast aside like some toy just because Electra found this newer, prettier thing to race with.

You had tried to bring it up to Electa, but you only got met with. “Do not question me, baby.” With a sharp tone that made you almost want to cry. Being so harshly rejected by your own partner and you were supposed to just… take it lying down?! You didn’t think so.

With newfound determination you managed to sneak away from the electric engines and the rest of the components to find the diesel you were looking for. It wasn’t hard as he was loud and currently was with his rolling stock and the rest of the international trains, doing their usual engine thing.

“Greaseball.” You called out, causing the world champion to whirl around to face you. He looked you up and down with a cautious look, before raising his chin to try and seem bigger. “What do you want, electric?” He asked, slightly puffing up his chest.

“Calm down, I don’t want trouble. I have… I guess a favor to ask.” You said while skating a bit closer to him. Two of his rolling stock buddies seemed to want to lunge out, but he stopped them by holding his arms out to the side. “I’m listening.” Greaseball said as he skated closer to you in turn.

“I want to race with you.” You swear you could see his eyes bugging out of his eye sockets as he fully straightened himself out. “I’m sorry I don’t think I heard you.” He said putting his finger towards your face.

You simply slapped his hand away. “I want to race with you. I’ve been side lined one too many times. I don’t mind if it’s by my fellow compartments, but some random new girl isn’t going to cut it. I’m going to show him what I’m made of on the racing track and I need your help to do that.”

A wicked smile suddenly crossed Greaseball’s face. “Sounds good, I’m in.” He said as he looked back at the rolling stock. “I’ll be back, I think me and this one have some training to do.” He said, putting a hand around your waist as he led you over to the training tracks.

With the blink of an eye it was racing day and you knew exactly what to do. You had shined your outfit and you looked your absolute best. You were gunning for surprise, a jaw drop and a childish stomp on the floor like a bunny that was mad. 

Control suddenly said Greaseball’s name and you were pulled forwards into the wonderful sound of a cheering crowd, big bright lights and the wind in your hair as he put on a show of how he was going to win.

Your eyes immediately found Electra who’s neck snapped towards you and Greaseball the moment she heard your name called out by control after Greaseball’s. For a moment you thought they pulled some wires with how their eyes twitched, but it was exactly the reaction you were looking for.

They didn’t seem to realize the race was about to start, until Pearl had touched their shoulder and looked at him in concern. You just looked forward with a smirk as you made sure you were ready for the race yourself.

The race was like a whirlwind, but it was far from done even though it was over now. You had won with Greaseball and you knew Electra wasn’t going to be happy. You stood alone having already said your goodbyes to Greaseball after the race, waiting for Electra.

Soon enough you hear him stomping up from behind you. “What was that about?” They demanded in an eerily cold and sharp tone which made you flinch and almost prepare for a zap. “That was me wanting to race, Electra.” You responded as you turned around to face her with a frown.

“With that diesel? How could you betray me like that?!” He raised their voice as they towered over you with their blue eyes staring holes inside of you. “Oh so I have to just be okay with you getting a new play toy?!” You asked, tears in your eyes as you got choked up on your own emotions.

“Fuck! I didn’t want to cry!” You yelled out in frustration, you had tried to promise yourself you’d be brave when confronting Electra and yet all you could do was think about the hurt that you felt when they chose Pearl.

Yet when you looked back up at Electra, all of their anger had vanished. “I’m… so sorry.” They said almost defeated and you felt like you had to get your ears checked out by Wrench, did he just say he was sorry?

“I didn’t want to make you feel that way. I- There’s no real excuse for this.” Electra said clearly, opting out of explaining as well. “Just don’t go back to that diesel.” She said, trying to keep her composure of the confidence they normally possessed. 

You couldn’t keep back any longer, you just skated forwards and into their arms. “I’m sorry too, for going to Greaseball. I just wanted to prove myself.” You murmured into their chest as he leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

“I know and you did.”

[xoxorealitygalore]

Always A Bad Girl (2)

Jey Uso x Black OC

Once a bad girl, always a bad girl.

Summary: When a group of girls shows up to fight his nieces and their friend, Joshua is stunned to find that his niece’s friend’s mom, Divinity, is the woman he’s been unable to forget after a one-night stand. The chemistry between them is undeniable, and Joshua quickly realizes he wants more with her. But as their connection deepens, he’s about to learn that Divinity’s wild side may be more than he bargained for.

Taglist: @xbriexx @christinabae @blackchickinthedesert

Masterlist

Previous: Chapter One

Liked by uceyjucey and 234,349 others

divinityhadid Heard y’all was looking fa me 😘

View all 3,594 comments

Three weeks of playing the mouse and cat game with Divinity had left Joshua feeling more than just frustrated. He had thought it would be different. He had expected the chase, yes, but not to the extent that it had turned into some elaborate game where he was always the one chasing and never the one caught. The whole thing had begun with an innocent flirtation, an exchange of glances, a few laughs, and eventually some teasing messages here and there. At first, he had enjoyed the back-and-forth, thinking it was leading somewhere.

But as the days passed, his enthusiasm began to wear thin. Divinity, the object of his desires, had always been elusive. She was a master of evasion, expertly keeping him on his toes, and if there was one thing that Joshua hated, it was uncertainty. For three weeks, every attempt to draw her closer seemed to push her further away. She had him in the palm of her hand, yet she was never quite within reach.

He couldn’t understand it. She was everything he had ever wanted—smart, stunningly beautiful, self-assured, and mysterious. But the more he tried to be near her, the more she pulled back. What was supposed to be playful banter had turned into a test of his patience, and he was failing.

It wasn’t just the physical distance between them, either. Her Instagram posts, with their carefully curated captions and alluring photos, felt like they were taunting him. Every time he scrolled through his feed, there she was—looking impossibly flawless, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. And with each post, each caption, it became painfully clear that Divinity knew exactly what she was doing. She knew how badly he wanted her, and she was going to remind him of that every time. It was like a game to her, a game that she was winning.

Her photos didn’t just show off her beauty—they were a declaration, a subtle way of saying, “I know you’re looking, and I know you want me, but you’re going to have to work for it.” It was maddening, the way she kept him dangling just out of reach, making him feel like he was chasing a prize that might never come.

In the beginning, he thought he could handle it, but after a while, it became clear that Divinity was playing a game that had no end in sight. Her posts were like riddles, each one teasing and pulling him deeper into her web. And her captions? They were even worse. They were filled with little hints and veiled messages that seemed to mock his growing frustration. It was as if she was daring him to step up and take control, daring him to break through her walls.

At his wit's end, Joshua resorted to asking his niece, Jayla, to relay messages to Divinity on his behalf. It was a step he never imagined he would take. Jayla, who was a teenager herself, had become an unexpected intermediary between the two adults. She’d offer her uncle little tidbits of information, sometimes passing along a smile or a wink from Divinity, sometimes just passing along a brief word of encouragement. But those moments only seemed to fuel Joshua’s obsession. The more Divinity resisted him, the harder he tried. It was like a twisted version of romance, where the chase became more important than the actual pursuit of a relationship.

He had even sent her black roses. He had wanted to make a statement, something dark and mysterious, a reflection of his inner turmoil. It was a bold gesture, one that he hoped would make Divinity take notice, to recognize that he wasn’t going to be toyed with forever. He watched her Instagram stories with bated breath, hoping for some kind of acknowledgment.

And then it came. The roses were displayed on her story with a black heart emoji. No thank you. No message. Nothing. Joshua’s heart sank. It wasn’t that he wanted her to be overly enthusiastic about the gesture, but the lack of any acknowledgment stung in a way he wasn’t prepared for. He had hoped for more—a text, a simple thank you, or even just a hint that she appreciated his effort. But there was nothing.

What hurt the most was that Divinity seemed to know how much he cared. She knew how badly he wanted her, and she reveled in it. She didn’t even need to say anything—her silence spoke volumes. It was a power play, and she was in complete control. Joshua didn’t know it yet, but Divinity was already several steps ahead. She wasn’t just playing with him—she was leading him into a trap of his own making.

What Joshua didn’t know was that Divinity had something else on her mind, something far beyond the teasing game she had been playing with him. She was in Indianapolis, Indiana, for the Royal Rumble, attending the event with her daughter, Jenova. It was a family trip, and Divinity had made her daughter promise not to tell Joshua about their plans. Divinity had her reasons. The whole situation with Joshua was complicated, and she wasn’t ready to make any moves in his direction just yet.

Jenova, at seventeen, had grown up in the shadow of her mother’s fame. Divinity was a woman who had been through the wringer, and though she was strong and independent, she had always put her daughter first. Jenova was sharp, wise beyond her years, and as much as she loved her mother, she could see the games that were being played with Joshua. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

Jenova sat on the private jet, watching the clouds drift lazily outside the window. She glanced over at her mother, who was absorbed in her phone. Divinity was always on her phone, always working or communicating with someone, but Jenova had learned to be patient. She had learned that when her mother’s mind was elsewhere, it was better to let her be. Still, something gnawed at Jenova, a feeling she couldn’t shake. She liked Joshua. He seemed like a good man, one who could be a positive influence on her mother. But there was something else. Jenova wasn’t sure if she was ready to share her mother’s attention with someone else.

“Mom,” Jenova called out, breaking the silence.

Divinity looked up, her focus shifting from the screen to her daughter. “Yes, baby?”

Jenova hesitated before asking the question that had been on her mind for days. “Do you like Jayla’s uncle?”

The question hung in the air, and Divinity took a moment before answering. “Yeah, I do,” she said softly, her gaze drifting back to her phone for a brief moment. But Jenova could tell that her mother’s thoughts were elsewhere, as they often were when she was trying to hide something.

“How do you feel about that?” Divinity asked, sensing the concern in her daughter’s tone.

Jenova bit down on her bottom lip, a habit she had when she was conflicted. Divinity knew her well enough to recognize it immediately. “I mean, I think you two would be cute together,” Jenova said carefully, her voice tinged with uncertainty, “but I don’t want to share your time and attention with someone else.”

Divinity’s heart ached. She knew how much her daughter meant to her, how fiercely protective Jenova could be, and how much they had to sacrifice for Divinity’s career. Divinity squeezed her daughter’s hand, offering a reassuring smile.

“Listen, Jenova,” Divinity began, her voice soft and steady, “I know that I’m not around as much as I’d like to be, but I need you to know something. A man will never take my attention away from you. You will always come first, baby. Always.”

Jenova looked up at her mother, her eyes searching Divinity’s face. There was something in her mother’s gaze that made her feel safe, that made her feel like everything would be okay. Divinity had always been there for her, through thick and thin. And as much as she might not be ready for her mother to move on, Jenova knew that Divinity would never let anyone come between them.

“I love you, Mom,” Jenova said quietly, her voice filled with the sincerity that only a daughter could express.

“I love you, too, baby,” Divinity replied, pulling her daughter into a warm embrace. “You’re my everything.”

Liked by uceyjucey and 250,722 others

divinityhadid In your city 😎

View all 4,123 comments

The backstage area at Lucas Oil Stadium was alive with the hum of last-minute preparations, the buzz of conversation, and the scent of fresh coffee drifting through the air. It was the night of the Royal Rumble, one of the biggest events in wrestling, and the atmosphere crackled with the palpable energy of anticipation.

But, amidst the whirlwind of activity, there was only one thing that held Divinity’s attention—Joshua.

As Divinity and Jenova made their way toward him, Joshua's face lit up in a way that made Divinity’s heart flutter. It was a look of pure enjoyment, but there was something more, a sense of triumph that only she could understand. Joshua knew exactly what this moment meant: he had finally gotten her where he wanted her, and the three weeks of figuring out how to get her attention had paid off. The mouse and cat game—his subtle flirtations and cheeky taunts—had won her over. She was here, in his world, and he couldn’t have been more thrilled.

Joshua, standing tall and confident, looked at Divinity and Jenova with a grin that spread across his face like wildfire. Divinity could tell by the glint in his eyes that he had been waiting for this moment, and it gave her a rush of warmth. For the first time in a long time, Divinity was feeling something she hadn’t in years, a connection with someone that seemed to ignite something deep inside of her.

He noticed his niece Jayla standing next to him, and with a playful pinch, he scolded her for not telling him that Divinity and Jenova were coming. Jayla grinned sheepishly, knowing that she’d kept the surprise from him, but couldn’t suppress a chuckle at her uncle’s exaggerated mock irritation.

Jenova, quick on her feet, rushed over to Jayla, and they embraced in a tight, sisterly hug. Divinity stood by, watching the girls with a smile that softened her heart. There was something about the ease with which they interacted, how natural it all seemed, that brought her a sense of peace. She loved that Jenova had a sisterly bond with someone especially since she was an only child.

When Divinity finally reached Joshua, the warmth of his smile was undeniable. Without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight embrace, one that felt safe and reassuring. His arms enveloped her, and for a brief moment, Divinity closed her eyes, allowing herself to be lost in the comfort of his presence. The world outside seemed to fade as she sank into the warmth of their connection.

“Thank you for the flowers,” Divinity murmured as they pulled apart, her voice low but sincere.

Joshua grinned, his gaze never leaving hers. “You’re welcome. You surprised me,” he replied, his voice tinged with that flirtatious tone she’d come to recognize. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

Divinity’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she teased, “I know it’s a surprise. We had to come and cheer for you in person.”

Before she could say anything else, Jenova appeared at Joshua’s side, giving him another quick hug. The two shared a warm exchange, and Joshua’s voice took on a more sincere tone as he thanked Jenova for coming. His connection with Divinity’s daughter was evident, and Divinity couldn’t help but smile at the way he treated Jenova like family, too.

Jenova pulled out her phone, eager to capture the moment. “Photo time!” she declared, holding her phone out toward Joshua.

Joshua, ever the showman, immediately struck a pose, one hand resting confidently on his hip, the other giving a thumbs-up to the camera. Divinity laughed and stepped in to take the photo, her fingers lightly tapping the phone screen as she captured the moment for Jenova.

When the picture was taken, Jenova darted off to join Jayla, leaving Divinity and Joshua alone for a moment. Their gazes locked, and the playful energy between them felt electric.

“You could have worn my merch,” Joshua teased, his voice full of cocky charm. There was no mistaking the playful flirtation in his words.

Divinity raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth curling into a mischievous smile. “I could?”

Joshua nodded, his grin widening. “Yeah, you could.”

“Well, in that case,” Divinity said, her voice laced with a hint of humor, “hand me some merch, then.”

From the sidelines, Trinity, who had been watching the exchange, muttered to her husband, Jonathan, “Not him marking his territory.” Jonathan chuckled under his breath, clearly amused by the banter unfolding before them.

Joshua, eager to prove his point, pulled a black Jey Uso “Yeet” T-shirt from his bag and handed it to Divinity with a grin. “You look good in my merch,” he said, his voice full of pride.

Divinity slipped the shirt over her head, feeling its fabric stretch over her body. She stood up straight, adjusting it, and then struck a playful pose, raising her fingers to form the iconic “V” shape. Her eyes met Joshua’s, and there was a teasing glint in them.

“So, are you excited?” she asked, her voice smooth, but there was a layer of challenge beneath it.

“Oh hell yeah, I’m excited,” Joshua responded immediately, his voice laced with genuine enthusiasm.

Divinity didn’t miss a beat. “Are you going to win the Rumble?”

Joshua smirked, his confidence oozing through every word. “I will try.”

Divinity’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Well, you better do more than try because I ain’t flying out here just to see you try to win the Rumble,” she teased, her eyes gleaming.

Joshua laughed, his shoulders shaking slightly as he mock-saluted her. “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a wink, the flirtation between them growing more intense with each passing second.

The night was shaping up to be a whirlwind. Divinity was caught in the charm of Joshua’s easy confidence and the way he effortlessly made her feel like the center of his world. But, even as the excitement buzzed around them, she couldn’t ignore the occasional glances from the others around them, especially from two men who were making it clear that their attention was elsewhere.

Logan Paul and IShowSpeed, both recognizable faces in their own right, approached them without hesitation. As they walked up, they bypassed Joshua entirely, turning their attention straight to Divinity. It was as though Joshua was invisible for the moment, and he couldn’t help but feel the sting of their blatant disregard.

Logan, ever the attention-seeker, flashed a smile at Divinity. “Oh please, tell me you’re in the Women’s Royal Rumble match?” he asked, eyes lighting up with interest.

“A bad girl in the ring would be nice to see,” Speed chimed in, his gaze sweeping over Divinity with open curiosity.

Divinity, sensing their intrusion, didn’t miss a beat. She shook her head with a playful smile. “Oh no, I’m here to support this one,” she said, her hand locking with Joshua’s, making it abundantly clear where her loyalties lay.

Logan and Speed exchanged a glance, confusion flickering in their eyes as they looked back and forth between her and Joshua. It wasn’t lost on Divinity or Joshua that they were now receiving more attention than they had bargained for, but Joshua wasn’t having it. He gave them a subtle yet unmistakable “back off, she’s mine” look.

Logan simply shrugged with a chuckle, but Speed quickly shifted his focus, asking Divinity to appear on his livestream. “No, thank you,” she replied coolly before Joshua gently pulled her away from the two men, his hand around her waist guiding her out of the awkward situation.

As they walked away, Joshua muttered under his breath, “I’ll knock their heads off if they don’t back up.” There was a mixture of protectiveness and amusement in his voice, and Divinity couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, relax,” she teased. “They mean no harm.”

The two continued to walk through the bustling backstage area, their energy rising as the event progressed. Yet, even with the excitement surrounding them, there was an undercurrent of tension that Divinity couldn’t shake. As they made their way through the backstage crowd, they spotted Jaida Parker standing close to Jenova and Jayla, chatting animatedly. Divinity could feel a shift in the air, an uncomfortable tension that seemed to radiate from Jaida, whose eyes locked onto Divinity and Joshua’s interlaced hands.

Divinity paused, her intuition prickling at the cold stare Jaida was sending in their direction. She forced a smile and approached Jenova, not bothering to acknowledge the woman who seemed so intent on making herself a part of the moment.

“Hey, baby, are you having fun?” Divinity asked, her voice warm as she leaned down to kiss Jenova’s cheek.

“So much fun!” Jenova exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement.

It was then that Jaida cleared her throat, her presence growing more palpable as she finally decided to speak up. “I gotta say, you’re probably too old to still be on reality TV,” Jaida said with a sly smile. “But I admire your hustle.”

Divinity’s lips curled into a tight smile, her eyes narrowing slightly as she regarded Jaida with a cool composure. She wasn’t in the mood for drama, but the underlying jab didn’t sit well with her. She responded with the politeness she had learned to master over the years, though there was a razor-sharp edge to her tone.

“Thanks,” Divinity said simply, but her eyes conveyed a message: Don’t try me.

Joshua, sensing the rising tension, gently pulled Divinity away, urging her that they needed to take their seats as the show was about to begin. Jaida’s presence lingered in the air, but Divinity refused to let it ruin the moment.

As Divinity and Jenova made their way out to their seats, Divinity couldn’t help but feel her protective instincts rise. She wasn’t sure what Jaida’s intentions were, but one thing was clear, she wasn’t about to let anyone disrespect her.

But, for now, the show must go on, and Divinity was determined to enjoy the night, even as the drama simmered beneath the surface.

The Royal Rumble was just getting started, but the night’s tensions were far from over. And Divinity, despite her attempts to stay out of the drama, knew that she would have to face whatever came next head-on.

The crowd in Lucas Oil Stadium roared as the opening bell rang, signaling the start of the 2025 Royal Rumble event. Divinity settled into her seat beside Jenova, the excitement of the crowd blending with the adrenaline of the moment. The lights above the ring flickered with intensity, illuminating the action unfolding in the squared circle.

Even though the night had barely begun, there was something in the air that felt electric, like the quiet before a storm. Divinity couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of tension from her brief encounter with Jaida. She tried to push it out of her mind, to focus on the action in the ring, but her thoughts kept drifting back to that moment. Jaida’s cutting words echoed in her mind, her condescending smile lingering like a bad taste.

Jenova, sensing her mother’s shift in mood, nudged her gently. “You okay, Mom?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with concern.

Divinity blinked, turning her focus back to the ring. "Yeah," she said, offering a tight smile. "Just a little distracted. It's nothing."

Jenova raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she leaned forward in her seat, her eyes glued to the ring where the Women’s Royal Rumble match was already underway. Divinity couldn’t help but be drawn to the intensity of the match, the athleticism on display as competitors were thrown over the top rope one by one. Nia Jax, a powerhouse of a woman, was dominating the match, eliminating several of her opponents in quick succession. But Divinity’s attention kept slipping back to the backstage drama, the faint memory of Jaida’s eyes boring into her eyes.

As the final four of the Women’s Royal Rumble match approached, Divinity leaned in closer, the tension in the arena palpable. The commentators were raving about the historic nature of the match, and for good reason. Charlotte Flair was fighting with everything she had, her determination as fierce as ever. Nia Jax was taking down competitors left and right, her strength unmatched. Roxanne Perez, despite her young age, had been a standout, her resilience pushing her to stay in the ring longer than anyone expected. And then there was Nikki Bella, whose experience and guile made her a dangerous contender.

When Nia Jax was finally eliminated by Charlotte Flair, the stadium erupted in cheers. Nia’s massive frame hit the floor with a thud, and the women in the ring quickly turned their attention to each other. Charlotte Flair and Roxanne Perez as the last two competitors standing.

With a dramatic flourish, Charlotte Flair tossed Roxanne Perez over the top rope, securing her victory. She fell to her knees, her face a mixture of exhaustion and triumph. The crowd went wild as Charlotte celebrated, becoming the first woman to ever win two Royal Rumble matches.

Divinity clapped along with the rest of the crowd, caught up in the moment. But even as she cheered, her mind couldn’t quite shake the tension of the evening. There was still something in the air that felt unresolved, something about Joshua, Jaida, and the ever-present undercurrent of unspoken feelings.

As the Women’s Rumble concluded and the action turned to the next match, a two-out-of-three falls contest for the WWE Tag Team Championship between #DIY and The Motor City Machine Guns, Divinity leaned back in her seat and glanced at her phone. She had received a couple of texts from Joshua, but she hadn’t had a chance to reply.

She opened his most recent message: You good? You seemed a little off earlier. Let me know when you get a chance.

Her heart softened. Despite everything, Joshua’s concern for her was evident, and it made her smile. She quickly typed out a response: I’m fine. Just a little distracted. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be cheering you on later.

A few seconds later, his reply popped up: Good. I want you to be here for me, Divinity. It means a lot.

Divinity smiled to herself. There was something about the way he spoke to her that made her feel seen, special. It wasn’t just the flirtation, it was the genuine care he showed for her. She had been through enough in her life to recognize when someone was being real with her, and Joshua, despite his cocky exterior, was proving to be just that.

But even as she felt the warmth of his words, she couldn’t ignore the knot in her stomach. The interactions between her, Jaida, and Joshua were starting to feel like an unwelcome complication. The last thing she wanted was to dive headfirst into another tangled relationship, especially one that felt like it was already on shaky ground.

Before she could dwell on her thoughts any longer, Jenova leaned over, pulling Divinity back into the moment. “Mom, did you see that?!” Jenova exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. “The Motor City Machine Guns are putting up a serious fight.”

Divinity blinked and refocused on the match. #DIY was still going head-to-head with the Machine Guns, and it was clear that this was one of the most hard-fought contests of the evening. The tension between the two teams was thick, with each team trying to outdo the other in speed, skill, and sheer determination.

When #DIY retained their titles in the third fall, thanks to a distraction caused by the appearance of The Street Profits, Divinity couldn’t help but feel the adrenaline of the crowd. She clapped with everyone else, impressed by the sheer athleticism on display.

In the penultimate match, Cody Rhodes defended the Undisputed WWE Championship against Kevin Owens in a Ladder match, with both the Undisputed and Winged Eagle belts suspended above the ring. During the match, Owens attempted a Package Piledriver but Rhodes countered, back dropping Owens onto a ladder. Owens hit a Fisherman's Buster Suplex to Rhodes onto a ladder bridged inside the ring, laying both men completely out as officials, as well as Sami Zayn, came out to check on them. The two continued until Owens attempted another Package Piledriver on the announce table but Rhodes countered, driving Owens through a bridged ladder with an Alabama Slam. Cody then climbed the ladder and unhooked the both championship belts to retain them.

But the fleeting moments of celebration were still interrupted by her thoughts about Joshua, and Jaida, and the uncertainty of where things were going.

“Mom, you’re zoning out,” Jenova teased. “What’s going on with you?”

Divinity turned to face her daughter, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Just trying to stay in the moment,” she said. “But you’re right. I think I need to snap out of it.”

Jenova smiled knowingly, as though she could see right through her mother’s act. “You’re overthinking things, Mom. Just enjoy the night. It’s all going to work itself out.”

Divinity gave her daughter a grateful smile, squeezing her hand gently. “You’re probably right. Let’s focus on the rest of the show.”

But just as the action on-screen began to escalate, Divinity’s mind returned to Joshua again, who was backstage preparing for the men’s Royal Rumble match. The final match of the night, the one that would decide who would challenge for either Raw's World Heavyweight Championship or SmackDown's Undisputed WWE Championship with a match at WrestleMania, was just moments away. And for some reason, Divinity felt a flutter of nervous anticipation in her chest. She wasn’t just here to watch a show, she was here to see Joshua make history.

The ring announcer’s voice broke through her thoughts. “And now, the men’s Royal Rumble match!” he announced, his voice booming over the speakers. “The winner of this match will go on to challenge for the world championship at WrestleMania!”

Divinity leaned forward in her seat, her eyes focused on the ring. Her heart raced as the first few entrants began their march toward the squared circle. And then, when Joshua’s music hit, the crowd erupted into cheers. Divinity’s breath caught in her throat. There he was. The man who had somehow turned her world upside down in the last few weeks.

Joshua, with his cocky grin and undeniable presence, made his way to the ring, his eyes scanning the crowd as he slapped hands with fans. Divinity couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride. She knew the competition would be fierce tonight, but she did not doubt that Joshua was ready for it. He was built for moments like this.

The match unfolded with the usual chaos, the ring filling with bodies as wrestlers were eliminated one by one. But when the final four approached, Divinity’s heart skipped a beat. Joshua was still in it. He was hanging on, taking hits but also dishing them out with precision and power. The intensity of the match mirrored the intensity of her own emotions—conflict, excitement, and anticipation all wrapped into one.

When it came down to Joshua, John Cena, CM Punk, and Logan Paul, Divinity was on the edge of her seat. The crowd was deafening, the energy in the arena undeniable. She clutched her hands together, watching with bated breath as the action unfolded before her.

The turning point came when Logan Paul was eliminated, his time in the match was abruptly cut short by a well-timed superkick from Joshua, followed by an elimination from John Cena. It was clear now—Joshua was in the final stretch. The next few minutes felt like an eternity. Cena and Joshua clashed on the apron, each trying to outlast the other. The tension was unbearable. And then, with a swift superkick and a final clothesline from Joshua, Cena hit the floor, and the bell rang.

Joshua had won.

The crowd went wild, the cheers reverberating through every corner of the stadium. Divinity jumped to her feet, her hands clapping in exhilaration. Jenova was beside her, grinning ear to ear, as they both cheered for Joshua. He had done it. He had won the Royal Rumble, and his road to WrestleMania was now secure.

As the celebration unfolded backstage, Divinity couldn’t help but reflect on how much had changed since she first arrived that night. What started as a simple surprise had turned into something far more complicated. Yet, despite the twists and turns, she couldn’t deny the connection she felt with Joshua, nor the excitement of what might come next.

As the night wore on, one thing became clear. Divinity’s journey with Joshua was only just beginning. And whether or not she was ready for the ride, she knew it would be anything but ordinary.

Backstage, the mood was electric. Divinity’s heart raced as she and Jenova made their way toward the entrance, where the wrestlers were gathering to celebrate Joshua’s victory. The noise from the arena still echoed in her ears, and the atmosphere in the backstage area mirrored the same excitement. Crew members were bustling around, prepping for the next phase of the show, but all Divinity could focus on was Joshua.

As they reached the entrance to the backstage area, Divinity noticed Joshua surrounded by family and friends, his smile wide and uncontainable. His eyes locked onto hers the moment she appeared, and he broke away from the group, walking towards her with purpose. Divinity could feel the energy between them shift as the space around them had changed. His presence alone had that effect.

Joshua stopped in front of her, grinning from ear to ear, his chest still rising and falling from the adrenaline of his victory. “You saw that, right?” he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

Divinity smiled, trying to hide the flutter of warmth spreading in her chest. “I was right there, cheering for you,” she teased. “You were incredible out there.”

Joshua chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, I couldn’t have done it without your support. You were the real MVP tonight.”

Her smile faltered for a moment as she processed his words. It was funny. She had come to cheer for him, to show up for him in a way that felt natural, and now here he was, acknowledging her as if she had been the one to cross that finish line. She appreciated it, of course, but it also made her feel a bit vulnerable like she was already too invested, too wrapped up in something that might not be as solid as she hoped.

Before she could respond, Jenova stepped forward, a mischievous smile on her face. “So, what’s next, Uncle Joshua?” she asked, clearly impressed by his victory but also enjoying the playful moment with her mom.

Joshua threw his arm around Jenova’s shoulders, pulling her in for a half-hug. “What’s next? Well, first, I’m taking a victory lap backstage, then… who knows? Maybe I’ll get my shot at one of those belts at WrestleMania, huh?” His voice was filled with the usual confidence, but there was a glimmer of excitement in his eyes that was new, something he had reserved for this moment of victory.

Divinity nodded, trying to keep her emotions in check. “I’m sure you’ll make the most of it. You’ve worked hard for this, Joshua.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, the tension between them. There was something unspoken in that look he gave her, something deeper than just mutual admiration. The truth was, she was beginning to see Joshua in a new light, not just as the wrestler who had earned his place but as someone who was becoming an integral part of her life, whether she was ready for that or not.

Before she could say anything else, a familiar voice interrupted their private moment.

“Congrats, man,” came the voice of Jacob, Joshua’s cousin. Jacob was a tall, imposing figure with a permanent smirk, his hands folded over his chest. He gave Joshua a quick hug before turning his gaze to Divinity. “Hi, Divinity.”

Divinity gave him a polite smile, but inside, she felt a small jolt of discomfort. Jacob’s tone, though friendly, carried a certain edge. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something about him that didn’t sit right with her. Perhaps it was the way he always seemed to hover around Joshua as if guarding him from anything or anyone that might come too close. Or maybe it was the way he watched her, sizing her up, as if trying to figure out where she fit into all of this.

Joshua seemed oblivious to the tension, as he quickly pulled his focus back to Divinity. “You should come out with me for the after-party. I’m celebrating tonight with the crew.”

Jenova grinned at the mention of the after-party. “Oh, we’re coming, right, Mom?” She gave Divinity a pleading look, the same one she always used when she wanted something.

Divinity glanced between them. Before she could respond, the sound of footsteps drew their attention, and Jaida emerged from the shadows of the backstage corridor. Divinity’s stomach tightened at the sight of her.

Jaida’s eyes immediately locked on Divinity’s, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. There was something about her demeanor that made Divinity bristle.

“Well, well,” Jaida said, her tone dripping with a mix of superiority and amusement. “I see we’re all having a good time tonight.” She looked at Joshua, who seemed unfazed by her appearance, and then back to Divinity. “I didn’t know you were here for Joshua, Divinity. I thought you were more of a fan of the spotlight than of the wrestler in the ring.”

Divinity’s smile tightened, but she remained calm. She wasn’t about to let Jaida provoke her, especially not in front of her daughter and Joshua. “I’m here for both,” she replied coolly, meeting Jaida’s gaze without flinching. “Supporting Joshua, and having a little fun while I’m at it.”

Jaida’s smile never wavered, but there was a flicker of something dark in her eyes. “Mm. We’ll see how long that lasts. Relationships in this business can be… complicated.”

Divinity’s skin prickled at the implication, but she refused to let Jaida get under her skin. “I’m sure they can be,” she said, her voice measured. “But I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”

Jaida’s eyes narrowed, but before the tension could escalate any further, Joshua stepped between them, his demeanor suddenly more serious. “Alright, alright, enough with the games,” he said, his tone firm but not unfriendly. “We’re here to celebrate. Let’s keep it that way, okay?”

Divinity gave Joshua a grateful look, her heart softening a little. He had stepped in when it mattered, not allowing Jaida’s provocations to ruin the moment.

Jaida scoffed and, without another word, turned on her heel, disappearing back into the shadows. Divinity let out a quiet breath, her body relaxing as Jaida vanished from view.

Joshua turned back to her, his expression a mix of frustration and amusement. “I’m sorry about that. Jaida’s just… well, Jaida. I didn’t know she’d start with you.”

Divinity gave a small, nonchalant shrug. “It’s fine. I’m used to people trying to push buttons.” She looked at him, her eyes softening. “Just... be careful, okay? People like Jaida don’t always have the best intentions.”

Joshua met her gaze, his smile returning. “I’ll keep that in mind. But I’ve got people in my corner who know what they’re doing,” he said, giving her a look that lingered just a little too long for it to be casual. “Including you, Divinity.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. There it was again. The undeniable pull between them. The chemistry. The unspoken promise of something more, but something that was still too uncertain, too fragile to name.

But for tonight, she would push those doubts aside. She would let herself enjoy the victory, the moment, and the thrill of the experience. Because one thing was certain: everything between her and Joshua had changed, and there was no going back now.

Divinity took a deep breath, ready for whatever came next. Whether it was the beginning of something beautiful or the start of a complicated journey, she didn’t know yet.

But she knew one thing for sure, she wasn’t going to run away from it.

divinityhadid 3h

It was late on a Monday evening, and the sound of rapid, yet familiar, tapping echoed from Jenova’s bedroom. Her fingers moved with practiced precision as she texted her best friends, Jayla and Joelle, to let them know she was ready to FaceTime. The dim glow of the desk lamp illuminated her room, casting soft shadows on the walls, and the muffled hum of her phone was the only noise in the otherwise quiet house.

At seventeen, Jenova was no stranger to juggling multiple things at once. Her phone had become an extension of herself—whether it was messaging friends, scrolling through social media, or setting up a FaceTime call. Tonight was no different. She had a lot on her mind, and talking it through with Jayla and Joelle was her way of unloading.

The phone rang for only a few seconds before Jayla’s face popped up on the screen, her signature grin wide and unapologetic. “Yo, you good?” Jayla asked, lounging back on her bed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jenova replied, though her voice betrayed a hint of irritation.

“I don’t know,” Joelle’s voice piped up from the background, “you don’t look fine.”

Jenova rolled her eyes, making a dismissive gesture. “I just got some things to say, that’s all,” she muttered.

Jayla raised an eyebrow, settling in, and prepared for the gossip session to follow. “Uh oh, spill it then.”

Jenova took a deep breath and leaned forward, hands folded in front of her as she stared into the camera, her brow furrowing as the memory of the Royal Rumble from a few nights ago replayed in her mind. “So, my mom likes Joshua,” she started, her voice dropping as if speaking a secret. “But that Jaida girl? She’s weird. And if she keeps coming after my mom, she's going to get jumped.”

The two girls on the other side of the screen exchanged a quick glance. Jayla smirked, clearly intrigued. “What do you mean, 'get jumped'? Like… jumped jumped?” she asked, leaning forward in her own seat.

Jenova’s lips curled into a small, amused smile as she recalled the tension of the night. “Yeah, exactly. Jaida was acting all extra weird. She kept making comments about my mom’s age, saying stuff like, ‘Oh, you must be so tired, girl,’ when my mom barely looked tired at all.” Jenova’s voice rose in disbelief, her hands moving in exaggerated motions. “Like, don’t be throwing shade at my mom, right? And she was staring at her like she was trying to figure out how my mom even existed. I swear, I thought my mom was going to hit her.”

“Honestly, though…” Jayla said, her voice suddenly more serious. “That’s growth.”

Jenova stared at her for a moment, blinking in confusion. “What?”

“You know, your mom didn’t let her get under her skin,” Jayla explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “She kept it cool. She didn’t let Jaida get the best of her. Because we know Divinity will smack someone without a second thought.”

Jenova leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers rhythmically on the desk as she processed Jayla’s words. “I guess you’re right,” she said slowly, but her tone still had a hint of frustration. “It’s just hard to watch. I mean, I know my mom is mature or whatever, but when people act up like that... I don’t know, it’s hard for me to just let it slide.”

Joelle, who had been mostly silent up until this point, shook her head with a chuckle. “Girl, please. I don’t even know how you’re still talking about this. Your mom's grown—she's got it under control. But I get it. She’s your mom, you're protective.”

Jenova rolled her eyes and grinned. “That’s what I’m saying. Ain’t nobody going to mess with my mom, no matter how old she is. If Jaida keeps acting up, it’s on. I’ll handle her myself.”

Jayla laughed, shaking her head. “You seriously want to fight Jaida? You’re crazy.”

“Beating up who?” Joelle asked with a raised eyebrow. “Jenova, please. Be for real.”

Jenova’s lips curled into a smirk as she looked at the two of them. “Don’t make me come over there and fight you both.” She paused for effect, then added, “I’m serious. About my mom, I will beat Joshua up too if I need to.”

At that, Jayla burst into laughter. Joelle joined in, shaking her head in disbelief. “I ain't never met a mommy’s girl like you before,” Joelle teased, but there was affection in her voice.

Jenova grinned, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “You should be lucky I’m not coming for both of you too. If I say I’m ready to fight, I mean it.”

Meanwhile, not too far away, Joe, Joelle’s father, was sitting quietly on the couch, watching television. His phone buzzed, and he glanced down at the notification. Joelle had just sent a message to the group chat, where she’d been sharing what Jenova was saying in her conversation with Joelle and Jayla. The message was a stream of giggling emojis, followed by a few laughing-out-loud responses. Joe chuckled to himself, wondering just how much Jenova had been ranting about. He didn’t mind his daughter’s best friend having her little moments, but he couldn’t help but notice how protective she was of her mother, Divinity.

Joe’s mind wandered to the conversation he’d had with Joshua earlier that day. It was clear that Joshua was smitten with Divinity, but there was still something tense about the way Jaida had been hovering around them at the Royal Rumble. Joe had already promised Divinity that he would talk with Joshua, especially since she seemed uneasy about Jaida’s presence. The last thing he wanted was for anything to escalate, especially not when Jenova was involved. He already knew how fiercely protective she was, but Jenova’s comments had made him realize just how serious this situation might become if it wasn’t addressed quickly.

Joshua, on the other hand, had been amused when Jenova had playfully threatened to beat him up. He appreciated Jenova’s loyalty to her mom, but he also knew that Divinity wasn’t the type to lash out unless necessary. He could see how she’d remained calm in the face of Jaida’s petty provocations. But still, the growing tension was noticeable, and he had a feeling that he would need to step in before things got out of hand.

“I’ve got it,” Joshua thought to himself, his mind already turning over the best way to make sure Divinity knew that Jaida was no real threat. She needs to see that Jaida is nothing more than a distraction. He’ll talk to her, make sure she knows that she doesn’t have to worry.

Back in Jenova’s room, the conversation took another turn. “So, what happens now?” Jayla asked, breaking the silence that had settled over the group.

Jenova shrugged. “I don’t know. I just want Jaida to stop messing with my mom. She better not make me come over there.”

The three girls laughed, their voices lightening the mood. Though their conversation had begun with tension, Jenova knew that she had her friends to lean on. No matter what happened with Jaida, she could always count on Jayla and Joelle to be there for her—and her mom.

“I swear,” Joelle said, still shaking her head, “you’re like a bodyguard for your mom.”

Jenova raised an eyebrow, smirking again. “Hey, someone’s got to be.”

Next: Chapter Three

[imhappierthanever]

hiii I was wondering if u could do a fic where Billie hates reader then Billie finds out that reader has an abusive boyfriend at a party by one of readers friends and Billie and readers boyfriend get into a fight ( because Billie actually cares about reader ) at his house and reader walks in and the boyfriend ends up hitting reader , the ending is yourssss !! (Also I don’t know if this makes much sense .. )

hi bb! Hope this is what you wanted!

heartbreaks & earthquakes

Another weekend, another party you didn’t want to be at. Your boyfriend was throwing another party which meant he would be drinking and you would end up being at the other end of his anger. 

You locked yourself in the bathroom, looking in the mirror at the new reminder of how much you needed to leave him.  A fresh new mark on your face that you couldn’t hide very well. You gently ran your fingers over it, wincing slightly at the pain before searching through your purse to find something to make it seem a little less obvious. 

You could just tell someone you ran into something if they asked you thought to yourself as you put some makeup over it, and made your way back to the party, passing Billie along the way. You noticed she was talking with one of your friends. Though you couldn’t imagine what they must have been talking about. You didn’t know Billie very well. You always thought she kinda hated you, so you never took the time to really get to know her. 

When your friend noticed your sad expression, she excused herself from Billie and joined you on the balcony. 

“So, what did he do this time?” Your friend asked. Knowing he was always up to something.

“It’s nothing!” You said shying away, trying to hide the bruise further with your hair. She lifted your head, eying your rather shit cover up job, and tear stained face. “You know, he can’t keep doing this to you. One day he’s really going to hurt you! I’m not trying to tell you what to do, I just want to help you. Make sure you’re okay. You deserve better than this.” Your friend said seriously, hoping that this time you would actually leave him. But before you could even respond, shouting from two familiar voices filled a nearby space. 

“Oh shit!” Your friend said. “I may have told Billie that your boyfriend is a complete ass!” “You did what?” You shouted racing off to go find them. Not sure what was to come of it. But you knew enough to know if Billie got involved, your boyfriend didn’t stand a good chance.

Once you found them, they were in the middle of a heated argument about you. You couldn’t understand seeing as how you had become your boyfriend’s punching bag, and Billie? She just didn’t like you or care. 

You stepped in the middle of them, pushing them both apart. “Stop it you two!” You said continuing to stand in the middle of them both. “Gonna let your girlfriend fight for you? Even after all the shit you put her through?” Billie spat, trying to move you out of the way. 

“She’s my girlfriend. And that means I can do whatever I want, anytime I want” he said wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “We’re fine,Billie. Really we are. You can go back to the party. Thank you for wanting to help.” 

You gave her a weak smile before she took one last look at both of you, heading for the door. But before she could even leave fully, she heard the sound of his fist hitting your face. Billie froze, taking in the moment before she walked back over to your boyfriend returning the favour. She knocked him to the ground, leaving him spitting up blood. 

“You’re never putting your hands on her again. And if you even try, you’ll have me to deal with. Got it?” She said ever so seriously. Her voice had lowered, eyes darkened. That beautiful blue turning icy. You realised you knew her even less in this moment, but also you didn’t care as you felt her hand slip into yours, leading you away from your boyfriend and back to the bathroom where you felt like you were spending most of the party. 

“Hop up on the counter pretty girl.” Billie said, shutting the door behind you, standing in between your legs. Her face was dangerously close to yours as she examined the damage. 

Wait..did she just call you-

She broke your thoughts when her ring clad fingers held your chin softly to get a better look. “Looks like he got you pretty good. “ she said looking at your eye, knowing it would be bruised in a matter of hours. 

“Billie.” You ask, questioning her actions. “Why did you do that? Why did you stand up for me out there?” You asked wincing from both the old pain and new mixing together. She didn’t answer you as she rummaged through the medicine cabinet finding an ice pack and placing it over your eye.

“You’ve never cared before. What’s changed?” You asked feeling strange as you let her take care of you.  “And now I’m pretty to you? You’re so fu-“

Before you could finish, she lifted your chin and placed her lips softly on yours, kissing you so sweetly, so tenderly you couldn’t believe it was actually happening. 

When she pulled away, your eyes were still closed, taking in the moment, hearing her speak finally.

“I’ve always had feelings for you. But you’ve always been with someone else. Always a guy. I just never thought I had a chance. So I tried to act like I didn’t care. But I do. And when I heard what he was doing to you, and saw for myself I couldn’t let him keep don’t that to you. You deserve so much better. You deserve to be with someone who appreciates you and cares. Someone who would be happy to call you their own.” 

You couldn’t believe she was saying this. And to you. Your head was swimming, confusion consuming your every thought as her eyes returned to that beautiful ocean blue. Could you ever see yourself being with Billie? You didn’t know. But as she cared for you, tending to your eye and staying with you to make sure you felt safe, you felt your heart swell at the kindness she was showing you. 

You could give her a chance, couldn’t you? You thought as she lead you away from the party, leaving the loud music, sweaty bodies and him behind. She helped you into her car and drove you home. Still making sure you felt okay enough to be on your own. 

You both stood on your porch. Billie rocked back and forth on her feet, her hands in her pockets as she nervously began to speak again.

“I can um.. come in with you. Make sure you’re alright.” She said meting your gaze. She really was quite beautiful you thought to yourself as you cupped her face with one of your hands, pulling her in for a kiss. 

“I would like that. And maybe just maybe you could stay too?” You said smiling softly, secretly hoping she wouldn’t turn you down. Ans she didn’t. She nodded shyly, letting you grab her hand and lead you inside. 

Truthfully you didn’t know what was between you. You didn’t even know if it had been a good idea. But you both knew what ever kind of relationship you and your boyfriend once had, it was over new. Billie was your new beginning and the possibilities of being with her seemed endless as you shut the door behind you, welcoming her into your space and into your heart. 

[artemisadore]

🩸🐾 catcrow of course

This one got away from me! I hope you enjoy CatCrow pet names + patching up an injury, with a healthy dose of "I had no where else to go" 🩷

Rating: T

tw: mild blood, vague descriptions of injuries/first aid, references to abuse (physical and emotional)

x

Monty hisses through his teeth at the way throwing his body against the door of the cannery makes the pain in his side branch out like the gnarly limbs of a tree. He notes the pain, swallows it down, and braces himself accordingly when he does it again.

It's preternaturally quiet on the dock aside from Monty’s labored breathing, which would in theory be something good for Monty to note, if he weren't otherwise occupied with keeping himself upright.

“Come on,” he groans, beating uselessly against the door with his busted-up fist.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners, little bird?”

Monty whips around so quickly that the spinning in his head almost knocks him off balance. When his eyes finally focus in the darkness, he finds the Cat King watching him with glowing yellow eyes and a saccharine grin.

He continues easily, “Well, I suppose you were taken from your real mother as just a hatchling, hm? Plucked right from the nest by Esther dearest, caged before you even learned to fly.”

“God, you love to hear yourself talk,” Monty rasps, bitterness lacing his tone.

“I do indeed,” the Cat King preens, sauntering around Monty, who vaguely wonders if the monarch is only doing so to make him shift his weight if he wants to keep the predator in his sights. “And so must you, little bird, because I can't think of any other reason why you'd show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night. Uninvited.” His expression falls to a mocking pout, one that makes Monty want to peck his stupid eyes out. “It's past the cats’ bedtime, you know.”

Monty takes in a steadying breath, again swallowing his pain and now also his frustration. “I—I need you,” he grits out.

The Cat King's eyebrows shoot up toward his slicked-back black hair. “My, my. I suppose I have to give you credit for your good taste. First Edwin, now—”

“Not like—fuck,” Monty groans between shallow breaths. “You're just—you’re the only one who—” Monty lets his eyes slip shut in resignation.

Submission, his prey-brain supplies.

“I had nowhere else to go.”

The admission feels acidic on his tongue.

He may have had somewhere to go, once. But now that place is an entire ocean away, full of people who either left him behind or forgot about him entirely, and he isn't sure which one hurts worse.

When Monty opens his eyes again, the Cat King is gone. But just as panic seizes his chest, he smells the familiar scent of incense he's grown to associate with the use of magic.

The Cat King has transported him somewhere — presumably in the cannery, though Monty has never been inside to know for sure — and left him perched on the edge of bed, awash in the glow of red and blue neon. In a quick flash of purple, the feline is back again, holding what appears to be a first aid kit.

Monty blanches at the sight. “Woah, hey, I just need a place to stay!” he says, hastening to make himself as small as possible.

The Cat King pays him no mind as he opens the kit on the bed. “Your knuckles are bruised, your ribs are broken, and you’re bleeding on my good furs from that gash on your side,” he snips cooly, picking his tools and materials with practiced ease.

The sight of it all makes Monty nauseous for reasons he'd rather not consider at the moment, so he pointedly looks away.

“For future reference, you don't get to be the idiot who gets the shit kicked out of him and the idiot who walks right into the lion's den with a broken wing. After tonight, you have to pick a struggle.” Monty’s skin prickles, which must mean the Cat King's eyes are back on him. “Shirt off.”

Monty winces, but he thinks better of arguing. It's a painful process, but he manages to rid himself of his blood-soaked t-shirt, which he discards with a small joy directly on the Cat King's floor.

The joy dissipates when the shirt disappears into thin air in a purple puff.

There's no preamble as the Cat King sets to work, manhandling Monty this way and that as he assesses his wounds. Monty stares past him through it all, unable to bring himself to meet his eyes. When the Cat King gets to the gash on his side, he hisses in what might be sympathy.

The sympathy, if it existed at all, is short-lived. The antiseptic applied to his side stings like a knife — a pain with which Monty is all-too familiar.

Monty expects the Cat King to chatter through it all, but the monarch works silently with a focused precision Monty didn't know he was capable of. It feels strange, being in such close proximity to a creature who could tear out his throat just as easily as he now mends his side.

But Monty has learned that it isn't always the animals that rip out your heart.

Sometimes it's a ghost.

When the Cat King is through, he steps back to examine his work. “Oh! How could I forget the most important part?” To Monty's surprise, the feline leans down into Monty's space once more, so close that he can see his pupils dilate in interest.

Monty isn't quite sure if they dilated before their first kiss, if you could even call it that — it happened so quickly.

But this isn't quick. The Cat King takes his time cupping Monty's cheek, sending a shiver down Monty's spine, one of both fear and intrigue. Monty lets his eyes flutter shut, anticipation taking root in his chest.

But instead of lips, it's the pad of a thumb that traces the space above his upper lip. Monty’s eyes blink open at the tingling sensation and, once again, the scent of incense.

“Wouldn't want a scar to mess up that pretty face, now would we?” the Cat King purrs, his smirk only growing as he pulls away triumphantly.

Monty touches his fingertips to his lip in awe, the skin as smooth as the day he was created. “You healed me,” he murmurs.

Esther healed him once or twice over the years, so it's not like he wasn't aware that it was possible.

Monty just wasn't aware that healing didn't have to hurt.

“It's a good thing you're cute, little bird,” the Cat King scoffs, “‘cause you sure ain't quick. It's sweet that you thought you'd get a repeat of our little forest ménage à trois, but I've done you enough favors tonight, wouldn't you agree?”

Monty wants to hate him — his stupid leather skirt and dumb combat boots, his infuriating smile and his cocky attitude, his chiseled jaw and his muscular arms and—and oh. Monty recognizes that feeling, the one that is so distinctly human, the one he swore he would never feel again.

Suddenly, something dawns on Monty. “Hold on. You have fucking healing magic. You could have just healed me!”

The Cat King's answering grin is Cheshire. “How would you ever learn to fly if I gave you all the shortcuts, birdie?”

Monty isn't sure whether he wants to kiss the Cat King or pummel him.

But the night is young — he may very well end up doing both.

[kikyoupdates]

Bloodthirst ⭑˚💋⭑ 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑠𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑑

bnha x vampire!reader

reverse harem, my hero academia x fem!reader, my vampire!reader, slowburn

As punishment for your sins, you, a young vampire, are banished — not just from your home, but to a different world entirely. Now, you find yourself in a foreign place where Quirks and heroes are the norm. In addition to coming to terms with your new life, you must also face your greatest challenge: controlling your massive thirst for blood.

previous | story masterlist | next

It was a few days into your stay in this new world, and you’d finally managed to get your hands on the magical device known as a cellphone.

“How does it work?” you asked, eyes wide as you looked it over from all angles. You tapped on its screen, but nothing happened. “Mine doesn’t light up the way the others do. Did they sell us a faulty product?”  

Izuku giggled. “It’ll turn on, don’t worry. You just need to plug it in so it can charge, like this... and you hold down the power button for it to start up.”  

He fiddled with a cable that plugged directly into the device on one end, then into the wall, through what Izuku had called an “outlet”. You weren’t familiar with any of this stuff, so it may as well have been sorcery to you.  

But true to Izuku’s words, the phone’s screen eventually lit up, and all sorts of vibrant colors and patterns soon graced your eyes. 

“Wow!” you gushed. “How does it do that? It looks so cool!”  

“This is just where technology is at in this world,” Izuku shrugged. “Cellphones used to be a lot more basic, just for making calls and sending texts, but now they’ve become mini computers. They can do a lot of really sophisticated stuff.”  

“What’s a computer?”  

“Ah... right. I guess I should have expected that.” He pointed towards the end of his room, towards what looked to be another screen, but way bigger than the cellphone’s. “Computers are devices that are really smart. They’re programmed that way. You can look up all kinds of information with them, play games, watch videos... there’s really no end to the possibilities. Cellphones are really convenient because they act like computers, but they’re portable, so you can carry them around with you wherever you go. It’s pretty neat, huh?” 

“This is life-changing,” you mumbled breathlessly.  

Izuku laughed. “Yeah, you could definitely say that. Here, I’ll teach you how to use your phone. It sounds more complicated than it actually is, I promise.” 

That was what he said, but it sure didn’t turn out that way for you. There were so many different little features on screen. Some of them did things when you tapped on them; others didn’t. Izuku was doing his best to show you how everything worked, but it was such a staggering difference from what you were used to that it was just too much to take in all at once. 

Not only that, but you quickly realized you had another problem. 

“For the time being, I’m going to add myself as a contact,” Izuku said. He tapped on the screen a few times—not that you could really make sense of it—then eventually passed the phone back to you, smiling brightly. “See? You have your first contact now. That’s my name right there.”  

You blinked. “What does it say?”

“Hm? What do you mean? It’s my name. Midoriya Izuku.”  

“No, I mean... I can tell there’s something written there, but I can’t read it. The symbols don’t make any sense to me.”  

Panic was quick to creep onto Izuku’s expression. “You can’t read kanji? Or hiragana? But... you’ve been speaking in fluent Japanese this entire time.”  

“I’m not even really sure how that happened either. It might be a side-effect of the spell that brought me to this world, but I was able to understand the language pretty quickly just by hearing it a few times. I definitely don’t know how to read or write, though.”  

“Oh, well... that’s not good,” Izuku swallowed, and it was clear that he was putting it lightly. For better or worse, this country, Japan, was your home now. You were kind of screwed if you didn’t have the ability to grasp written forms of communication.  

Izuku pursed his lips, clearly lost in thought, then grabbed a blank piece of paper and placed it front of you. He’d brought some pencils as well.

“Try writing your name,” he suggested. “If you were able to understand our language just by being exposed to it, maybe it’s the same with reading and writing too. Maybe it’ll come to you much quicker than you think.”  

You decided there was no harm in trying, so you did just that.  

“This is how you write my name,” you smiled proudly, lifting up the paper so that Izuku could see it better. 

Regretfully, he just looked even more worried than before. “I-I’ve definitely never seen anything like this before,” he stammered. “I’m pretty sure there’s no language like this anywhere on Earth. Then again, I guess that’s not surprising, since you’re literally from a whole different world...”  

You frowned, then took another peek back at the contact Izuku had saved on your phone. No matter how hard you tried, you failed to understand how the symbols he’d inputted were meant to translate. You were lucky to have grasped the spoken language right away, otherwise you would’ve probably been speaking in gibberish on the streets and people would have thought you were insane. Unfortunately, as for reading and writing, it looked like you were going to have to learn it the hard way.

“I’ll do my best to teach you the basics,” Izuku reassured. “But, um... while you’re here, I think it’d be good to consider going to school. You’ll learn everything you need there. And there’s a limit to what I can teach you all on my own.”  

“School sounds fun,” you beamed. 

“Have you been to school before?”  

“Not really. My parents hired various tutors to teach me academics back at home.”  

“R-Right. I guess royalty have a different way of doing things. But,” he perked up, “I’m sure you probably received a really solid education, so you’ll have no trouble picking things up here. It might seem intimidating at first, but you’re smart, [Name]. I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out.”  

“How do you know that I’m smart?” you asked.  

“Well... aren’t you?”  

“Am I?”  

You both stared at each other for a good while. Clearly, this was a stalemate.  

“Anyways!” Izuku continued. “I’m going to start with the foundation of all the basics. And you can learn to write your name while we’re doing this. It’ll be a good first step.”  

You gripped your pencil tight and nodded, eager to learn. 

Japanese was hard. Actually, you supposed you should say that learning a new language from scratch was hard in and of itself, but based on what Izuku had told you, Japanese was one of the most difficult languages to learn in this world—especially for a non-native speaker.

So, yeah. That was great.  

Even so, you weren’t deterred in the slightest. It wasn’t like there was much you could do about it, after all. Moving to a different country all of a sudden certainly wasn’t an option, plus, you weren’t willing to sever your connection with Izuku either. This was your home now, and you had a good feeling about this place. You just needed to put in the effort to make it your own. 

Izuku did what he could to teach you, but attending school was obviously the most efficient approach. Actually getting into school, however, was a different matter altogether. You’d initially been thinking that your stay with Izuku would be a temporary one, but you were already afraid of being separated from him. You didn’t know what you would do if you were left alone. Teenagers like you weren’t allowed to live on their own, so most likely, you would end up being placed in an orphanage since no one was around to take care of you.  

Frankly speaking, you hated the thought of that, so you decided to pull out all the stops and come clean to Inko. 

“I’m from a different world,” you blurted all too suddenly over dinner. Izuku’s food quite literally fell out of his mouth from shock, and Inko gave you a funny look, although she didn’t seem too worked up over it. She probably just thought you were saying silly things as a joke. 

“Is this some sort of reference I’m not getting?” she frowned.  

“N-No,” you said sheepishly. “I’m really telling the truth. I didn’t want you to try and contact the police or anything because I don’t even have a family to return to. At least, not in this world. I ended up here one day, and Izuku was nice enough to help me out when I had nowhere to go. I was thinking of keeping this a secret because I figured I would only be staying here for a little while... but I’m honestly scared to leave. I don’t know where I’ll go.” 

Inko probably still didn’t believe you, but her expression seemed more solemn now.  

“[Name],” she said gently. “What’s going on at home? You can tell me. No matter what it is, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you’re safe.” 

Ah. She still thought you came from a complicated family, and probably assumed you didn’t want to go back home to be around your parents. If you went with that story, though, at some point, you worried she really would get the authorities involved. 

No. Even if it was a long-shot, you needed to convince her. She was Izuku’s mom, and he already knew your secret. You just hoped that even though she was an adult, she wouldn’t dismiss you as some troubled teen making up excuses.  

“[Name], wait,” Izuku mumbled, but you’d already stepped out of your chair and begun moving closer to Inko. 

She watched, looking confused beyond measure, as you opened up your mouth and revealed your teeth, which sharpened into fangs. You knew it would probably take more than this to convince her, but it was a start, at least.  

“I’m a vampire,” you said. “I need to drink blood to survive. My world is very different from this one, filled with all kinds of creatures and different species that don’t exist over here.”  

Inko swallowed uncomfortably. “[Name], I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but I really, really want you to be honest with me. You don’t need to make up stories. What exactly is going on with you and your family?”  

“I wish it was a story,” you sighed heavily. “My parents aren’t with me. They’re back in my old world. Vampires like me are pretty strong and heal quickly too. Don’t you think it’s weird how fast my injuries healed up? I got hurt pretty bad, two days in a row, but I’m already as good as new.”  

Instead of giving you a direct answer, Inko glanced towards her son, who had gone awfully quiet.  

“Izuku,” she frowned. She seemed to be searching his expression for some sort of explanation. “[Name], what is she—?”  

“She’s telling the truth,” Izuku mumbled. “Mom, I know it all sounds super ridiculous, but I don’t like to lie to you. [Name] doesn’t even know how to read or write. Not just in Japanese, but in any language, for that matter. She has no clue about how technology works either. You could ask her when the second World War took place, or even what it is, and she wouldn’t have a clue.”

Inko’s bottom lip trembled. “What the... t-this is all sounding very strange, you two. Izuku! Are you sure your friend is alright? This a serious matter, so I’m begging you, don’t play games with me.”  

“It’s not a game, mom. We’re serious.” 

“About vampires? But that’s just not possible.”  

“I could show you if you want,” you offered. “Izuku’s let me drink his blood before, back when I really needed it.”  

Oops. Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to say to a mother, especially when it involved her own son, but Izuku backed up your statement with a hasty nod—all the while blushing profusely. 

“My parents don’t exist in this world,” you continued, looking a bit more dejected now. “I promise I’m not lying. I didn’t even know about Quirks or any of that until Izuku explained them to me. You could call just about all the police in the country, but I can guarantee that nobody will be able to register me anywhere. It’s a crazy situation, and I know how it sounds, but it is the truth.”

She’d gone completely silent, and you were actually a bit worried that she was going to turn you in and have you committed to some sort of mental institution, but thankfully, Inko really was Izuku’s mom. She was kind to a fault.  

Her shoulders sagged. “Goodness... I-I don’t even know what to say. Okay, then. Let’s say for the sake of argument that I believe you. I would still want some sort of proof.”

“Hm... you could wait it out for a little while and see how close I’ll get to dying if I don’t drink any blood?”

Both Inko and Izuku stared back at you in abject terror. Okay, so that suggestion was a dud.  

“I could hurt myself really bad and then show you how quickly I heal up once I do drink blood?”  

Strange. They didn’t seem too keen on that one either.  

“In that case, I’m fresh out of ideas,” you shrugged.  

“Mom, we’re really telling the truth,” Izuku insisted. “I don’t even know if it can really be proven, but [Name] knows nothing about our world. It just doesn’t seem like something that would be possible unless she wasn’t actually from here. She has nowhere to go. If you call the cops, social services, or whatever... she’ll be alone. And afraid. And I really don’t want that for her."

Inko stared at you for a few good moments. Out of nowhere, she gripped you by the shoulders and squeezed down tight.  

“I’ll only ask this one more time,” she said sternly. “Your family... they haven’t done anything to make you too afraid to go back home? Enough that you would make up a crazy story like this to convince me to let you stay?”  

You smiled. “Nope. I’m not scared of my parents. I can’t say they’re as nice as you, but I didn’t leave home voluntarily. One day, I’m going to find a way to get back to my world, no matter what it takes.”  

Inko let out a shuddering breath. “It... really doesn’t look like you’re lying. At the very least, I can’t see it in your eyes. Or maybe you’re just a terribly good liar and have me completely fooled. Oh, alright. If you really have nowhere else to go, and since you’re the first friend Izuku’s had in a long time... then, yes. You can keep staying here with us.”  

It hardly took a second for you and Izuku to break out into cheers. 

“Yes!” you exclaimed, rushing towards your friend and wrapping him in a big hug. He reacted with a nervous little squeak and a bright red flush, the way he always did, but he too seemed to share your enthusiasm. “We get to stay together,” you grinned. “I don’t have to leave and find somewhere else to live! I’m so happy!” 

“Y-Yeah!” he beamed back. “This is great news! Thank you so much, mom! Thank you for helping us out.”  

Inko smiled warmly. “It was worth it just to see the looks on your faces, if nothing else. I still don’t even know what I believe... but I can tell [Name] is a good girl. For now, that’s more than enough.”  

“Oh, right,” Izuku blinked in realization. “She needs to attend school. That’s the whole reason she wanted to tell you the truth. If she goes to school with me, she can learn a whole lot more about our world this way. I’m trying to teach her as much as I can, but it’s harder than I expected.” 

“School? Well, I can try enrolling her into your middle school, but I’m pretty sure I’d have to be her legal guardian for that to work.” Inko nibbled on her lower lip. “It’ll be difficult to obtain those documents, especially if there’s no record of [Name] to begin with. I’m not sure how it’ll go.”

“It’s worth a shot,” you grinned, completely unbothered.  

You were on cloud nine right now, and it was going to be damn hard to dash your spirits. Which was why, the very next day, you dressed up all pretty in one of your new outfits and made a prompt visit to Izuku’s middle school, which you would hopefully be attending soon.

Both Inko and Izuku had come along with you, naturally, and you found yourself face to face with the school’s principal.  

Currently, he was staring down at your admission documents with a puzzled expression. “Different last name, I see. Mrs. Midoriya, do you have legal guardianship of this child?”

“N-Not yet,” Inko stammered out. “But she’s been staying at our home for the last little while. I can provide proof of our living conditions, and she’s been properly taken care of.” 

“Well, can you get in contact with the child’s family?”

“My whole family’s dead,” you chimed in—a bit too eagerly, perhaps. “Izuku and his mom are, um... very, very, very distant friends of one of my late relatives, so they took me in.”

The principal gave you a look of disbelief. “Uh-huh. Well, my hands are tied here. It sounds like a complicated situation, but I can’t very well allow someone to enroll a child that they don’t have legal custody of. Sort out the matter in court first, and try to transfer in later.”

From what Izuku had told you, these legal matters could take a long time, and quite frankly, you didn’t feel like waiting. There was also the issue of getting other people involved. You didn’t need anyone poking their nose into your business and realizing how many things about you just didn’t add up. It would raise a whole lot of undue suspicion. Worst case scenario, the authorities would take you away from Izuku by force.

There was no chance you were going to let that happen. But thankfully, you had an idea.  

Admittedly, a reckless one.

You turned towards Izuku and Inko with a smile. “Do you two mind waiting outside for a minute? I just want to try and talk to this nice man on my own.”

“Sorry, kid,” the principal sighed. “No matter what you say to me, my answer will be the same. I’m not looking to get in trouble with the law.”

Your smile didn’t drop, and although Izuku and Inko were staring at you with visible confusion, you still gestured for them to leave the room first.

Once you were finally alone with the principal, you leaned across the desk. “Sorry about this,” you mumbled quietly.  

“Huh? What are you—?”  

You grabbed him by the arm before he could get a proper reply out, then sunk your fangs into his skin. He briefly yelped out from the pain, of course, but you didn’t drink very much blood from him. You didn’t need a lot. After all, you had a different purpose in mind.

“You’re crazy,” he winced. “Absolutely crazy. I’m really going to call the police now.”  

“Don’t you dare,” you ordered, and the man’s hand dropped right as he reached for his phone. You could feel your head throbbing, the way it always did when you tried to use this technique, but at least it seemed to be working. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” you smiled. “You’re going to let me attend this school, and the same class as Izuku, too. You’re not going to stir up a fuss and demand that Inko shows you the paperwork, and you’re also not going to tell anyone about what just happened. You’re going to forget I ever bit you, actually. All you need to do is approve my enrollment, and that’s that.”  

You snapped your fingers, and just like that, the hypnosis came undone.  

“W-What?” he blinked, glancing all over the place in confusion. “I was just... what did I...?”  

“You were just about to celebrate the fact that I’m starting classes tomorrow,” you beamed. “Right?”  

He stared at you for a few moments, with a vague look of understanding, but eventually nodded his head, suddenly much more sure of himself.

“Oh, yes!” he beamed. “That’s right. [Last Name][Name]… ah, perfect. Yes, it looks like everything I need is in order. And you can start classes as early as tomorrow, you said?”  

“Yep! I’m super excited to meet everyone and make tons of friends!”  

“That’s a good attitude to have. I’m thrilled to welcome you to your new school, [Name]. I’m sure the other members of our faculty will feel the same way once they find out.”  

“Awesome! I’ll get plenty of sleep tonight, so that I can be ready for school bright and early,” you grinned. “Thanks so much for everything, Mr. Nice Principal. It was lovely to meet you!”

The principal chuckled softly and waved you off, up until you left his office. Only once the door fully shut did he allow himself to wince, then rolled up his sleeve and furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“Are these... bite marks? How in the world...” 

Back on your side of the door, Izuku was all over you, fretting incessantly. “[N-Name], are you okay? It sounded like he got angry with you for a moment... we thought we heard yelling. As expected, it’s a no-go, huh?”  

“What are you talking about? He approved my admission.” 

“Eh?”

Both Izuku and Inko were staring at you in bewilderment. Your head was still aching quite a bit, and it would probably continue to do so for a little while, but it was worth it. You normally hated putting people under the effects of your hypnosis after drinking some of their blood. It felt like a slimy thing to do, and it kind of was, but you really wanted to go to school with Izuku. It was just this one time. Just this once.

“Don’t worry about it,” you grinned. “I have my ways.”

You said that, but you’d been lucky that it had even worked, since you weren’t very good at using hypnosis to begin with. Maybe this was fate, though. There was that saying that everything happened for a reason, after all.  

Izuku peered over at you while you walked through the halls, his eyes slowly narrowing. “Um... [Name]. That’s not blood on your lips... is it?”

“Hehe. Oopsie.”  

“What did you do?!”  

It wasn’t at all uncommon that Katsuki found himself in a bad mood, but he’d been in an especially bad mood these past couple of days.  

And it was all your damn fault.  

Finding out that Izuku had somehow made a friend was already irritating enough, but to make matters even worse, you’d gotten on his damn nerves and challenged him to a fight. A fight that hadn’t gone as planned, as much as he hated to admit it. He’d underestimated you. Clearly, you were a lot stronger than you looked, which begged the question as to why you hung out with that goddamn loser. 

Then again, you seemed to be one hell of a weirdo yourself. Katsuki still shuddered every now and then when he remembered the way you’d greedily slurped up his blood. Seriously, who did that?  

My shitty mom screamed at me for hours after I got back home looking all beat-up like that... fucking hell. If I ever see that bitch again, I’m gonna make her regret messing with me.  

Katsuki rubbed at his bruised face and grimaced. Class was as damn boring as always, and it didn’t help that he could see that shitty nerd fidgeting in his seat out of the corner of his eye. What the hell did he have to be so restless about? It was fucking creepy.

“Ahem,” the teacher said, clearing his throat all of a sudden. “It’s a bit unexpected during this time of year, but I’d like to take a moment to introduce a new student to our class. Everyone please be sure to give her a warm welcome. You can come in now, by the way!”  

The door slid open, and Katsuki yawned loudly, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. As if he could care less about whichever extra was joining the class. 

“Hi, everyone!” 

Katsuki’s eyes widened. That voice. He knew that voice.  

A pathetic wheeze left his mouth, and he couldn’t help the way his jaw dropped nearly all the way to the ground. There was no way. There was just no way.  

And yet there you were, grinning and waving at everyone, with so much as a care in the world.  

It was only until your eyes locked with his that your expression changed, but it didn’t shift into discomfort or fear.  

Instead, you openly smirked at him.

“You fucking bitch!” Katsuki roared, slamming his palms down on the table loud enough that everyone turned their heads.  

The teacher gave him a cross look. “Come on, Bakugou. Let’s not start this early in the morning. Be nice to your new classmate.”

“That’s right,” you kept on smirking. “I’m excited to be friends with everyone, including you. Don’t you feel the same way?”  

Katsuki officially had a new person on his shit list.

More chapters are available on Quotev, Ao3, and Wattpad !

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

💋 main masterlist ♡ oneshot masterlist

[seokminfilm]

🫂 , LYR'S MASTERLISTS: JUST SEOKMIN EDITION ! (from newest to oldest ; note that many may be privated/deleted.)

tipsy ᝢ in which you find the tipsy side of your boyfriend to be very endearing. tease ᝢ in which you find out your boyfriend is a massive tease. like the movies ᝢ in which lee seokmin (your sweetheart of a boyfriend) suprises you with a weekday dinner date (cringy pick up lines and giggling ensues). positions ᝢ seokmin had to have this conversation with you at one point, but he didn’t think it would be this soon and this desperate, either. nangs ᝢ your boyfriend can tell the new shorts he bought have a massive effect on you. love ᝢ domestic life with your boyfriend couldn't be any sweeter. field of hopes and dreams ᝢ in which you learn to admire your sweet soccer boyfriend’s over-the-top celebrations and sometimes annoying resilience. angel ᝢ why was the only person who could give you respite in your suffocating, perfectionist world a rogue motorcyclist who kissed you last night? the many faces of seokmin ᝢ your boyfriend subconsiously makes this one adorable facial expression that you can’t get over. eyeshadow stars ᝢ drawing stars on your sleeping boyfriend’s cheek with eyeshadow really made you realize how much of a star he was. attorney fever ᝢ your charming lawyer is trying to make a good, professional impression on you, but how can he do that with a bunny figurine sticking out of his suit pocket? still life ᝢ you’re in your own little world, sketching the man of your dreams (who’s also very much real, in your own bedroom, and craving your attention). let me show you ᝢ seokmin seemed detached from everything—that was until you got comfortable with someone else. forever ᝢ seokmin finds out something new about you, and still loves you just the same for it. one for me, one for her ᝢ in which seokmin buys something quite silly for your shared dog. l'amore dice ciao ᝢ warm mornings in italy with your husband are why you live (oh, and your coming baby, of course). still a human ᝢ in which seokmin knows how to calm your stressed nerves. sweetpeas ᝢ in which you're thankful that you're seokmin's sweetpea.  something about you ᝢ you finally have a chance to meet the really hot jogger you keep seeing outside of your house. how? by spilling his orange smoothie all over him. show me how ᝢ in which you win your boyfriend's attention by washing your hair with a new shampoo. monet ᝢ nightclubs weren't detective lee seokmin's thing. that was, until he met you, monet. mary janes ᝢ your kindergarten teacher boyfriend's christmas program wouldn't be complete seeing you in your adorable mary janes. destiny ᝢ seokmin was destined to be king. was your destiny to be with him? made for me ᝢ seokmin always knows how to make you feel right, even when you feel you don't look right. attracted to you ᝢ you were born to fluster your boyfriend, weren't you? mosquito ᝢ seokmin was clingy when you weren't with him for long periods of time. these were one of those periods. dokyeom with a talented cook s/o backyard boy ᝢ in which your cute neighbor-slash-good friend finally shoots his shot with you. for one last time ᝢ wii sports with your baseball boyfriend seokmin proved to be an interesting date idea. i wonder ᝢ in which you wonder what the future holds for you and seokmin. there's no one like you those big brown eyes ᝢ damn seokmin and those beautiful big brown eyes. shirt ᝢ wearing your boyfriend's shirt gets a reaction out of him. call me by your name ᝢ in which you reassure that no matter what name you call him by, you'll still love and adore him.