#pfft have you SEEN these two??

[madamechrissy]

Losing Control Now masterlist/ Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo headcanons

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six (FINAL)

Pairings: Mobster Gojo x bartender F!reader

Summary: Something about running the Gojo mafia just makes Satoru so bored. Boring, boring boring. Sure, he loves money, he loves women, he loves snorting snowy powder off their bodies. He loves the power that comes from it- but he's just bored. That is, until he stumbles upon you, the brand new bartender that makes him pause, falter, and then soon he becomes obsessed, with knowing you, in every single way. Paying off your mom's debts and working two jobs, you're exhausted, but something about this pretty Mob boy just makes you... excited again. How far in are you, and how far is Satoru in the mafia world? All he knows, is he must have you.

CW: Sexual tension, eventually explicit sex, mafia themes, drug themes, violence, obsessed ass whipped ass Satoru Gojo, oral sex, possessive Gojo, drug use and drug dealing - lowkey Yandere fkn Gojo hehe. Light angst, some fluff, heavy smut, lots of teasing, light angst and hurt comfort.

That Gojo art is by michi_ia on X!!! This is the Gojo from Pour it Up (Stripclub owner Sukuna x reader)- six parts - finished! WC- 45.5k - Extras- here

Playlist -Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo headcanons below

Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo who just finds everything so boring, even snorting lines off pretty stripper's bodies, even drinking with his best friend and partner in crime, Suguru. These meetings and those things, and this job, and this drop, blah. Negotiations!? Pfft. No he wants something fun and no amount of fruity drinks or sugar up the nose is cutting it anymore.

Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo has his drink getting filled by one dancer, sipping it and finding it much too harsh, he stands up then, as Sukuna chuckles 'need it even more of a lil bitch drink?' Satoru rolls his blue eyes, flipping Sukuna off then saying 'it's not sweet enough!' Satoru walks out into the humming club then, faltering as he sees a girl that must be new, in a black bra, black booty shorts and fishnets that are glowing under the blacklights. His eyes trail slowly up and down her body, filling him with filthy images as he finally meets her eyes- your eyes.

Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo who is usually so cocky and arrogant just stands there for a minute, like you're bringing him right out of some haze he's been in, as he feels your eyes looking right back, nervous smile on your pretty face. 'New here, sweetheart?' he asks, voice husky and deep, probably the prettiest damn person you've ever seen, for a moment you can't answer, blue eyes swirling and bright even under the club's dark lights and through the smoke and fog, you feel his gaze on your body as you're leaning over the side of the bar. 'I am new'

Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo can't get your name out of his mind, as you bite your lower lip, focusing on making his drink - 'the first of the new job, you're special' you tease, and Satoru manages to get some of his charm together, chuckling as he leans over the bar. 'I am special, hmm?' you wonder why he wants that many sugary concoctions in one drink, but god it's the best drink, and he has to murmur 'bet you taste even better' earning your blush even under the flashing lights, 'huh?' he just brushes back your hair, smirking before he walks off, bombarding Sukuna with questions about you.

Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo specifically requests you sit with him during the next meeting, as they discuss the Zenin family and the Kamo family, two other big names in the Mob scene, but now he gets to focus on you, as he decorates your collarbone with snowy powder, snorting it off you, while you can't stop a little whimper. No one hears it but him, and it makes him feral, cock throbbing as your hips shift, his eyes notice every movement until they close, and he licks the residue off your throat, hot tongue making your mind go insane with images of just what that long pink tongue can do.

Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo finds these meetings about the business so much more fun now, but instead of looking at any of the strippers, he's only looking at you, at your pretty eyes, plump lips parted as you look at him, and he wonders how pretty you'll look cumming just for him. When they're all leaving the meeting in the VIP room the next time, you can't stop yourself, sitting on his damn thigh, wetness making your panties sticky, and you look at him then. 'Need something, sweets?' he murmurs, smirking like an arrogant little ass, as his hand slips up and down your thigh, and he's been edging you for just too long, so you break - 'touch me, please Mr. Gojo'

Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo dies internally at your request, precum already making his boxers stick as he finds your clit under this slutty skirt you have on, rolling a fingertip over a twitchy clit, and your head falls back, 'mnh, s'good!' you whine, grinding on his thigh, but it's just not enough for Satoru, he turns you so you're straddling him on this red velvet couch, he looks dangerous but somehow sweet, as you clutch his suit jacket, and he sinks two fingers in your cunt, pressing against that spongy spot in your slick walls, making your cunt drool down to his pretty silver rolex, those sleeves of his coated with you as you roll your hips, moaning, back arching - 'shh, sweets, don't want anyone t'hear this slutty cunt, hmm?'

Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo has the most ridiculous, long thick fingers you've ever felt, you're closer and closer as he continues curling them inside your eager hole, your lips just a breath from his as your hands now enwrap in his silky white locks, grinding even more on his hand, as he chuckles softly, his breath ghosting over your lips. 'need me to play with that little clit, too?' you nod weakly - 'sure things, pretty girl, there you go, that's it' you're shattering now, and Satoru is watching, while his thumb presses over your twitchy clit, and you're cumming so hard you feel dizzy, pussy pulsing and dripping down his fingers, trembling thighs on either side of him.

Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo sighs at how pretty you are, slipping those two fingers in your mouth, smirking and murmuring 'suck them clean, be a good girl for me' and you eagerly obey, before he grabs your hair by the nape of your neck, slamming your lips down on his. You both get interrupted by a very amused Sukuna then, who says 'let her get to work Satoru, or you need to get behind the bar and shake your ass' Satoru chuckles as you're blushing furiously, and he helps you adjust your skirt and panties, 'give her the day off tomorrow, I'll pay to cover someone' Sukuna sighs 'whatever' he grumbles, you blink then, looking down at his grinning face 'Satoru I can't afford to take off' he doesn't know the bills you have, the situation you have to take care of with your family, to help them, he sighs then 'I'll pay you four times your shift to just date me'

Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo has never really gone on a date, no he just has girls on his arm, under him on his bed, he certainly didn't have to even try to do something like offer money, but he'd offer anything for a chance at you. You all don't end up going anywhere, though, because once you're in the back of Satoru's limo, and he's doing a line off your inner thigh, he starts licking at it, and before you know it he's dragged your panties off, burying his pretty face right in your pussy. 'ah, Mr. Gojo!' he leans up as he swipes the flat of his tongue from your drooling little hole to your clit, pressing a kiss on it 'Satoru, while you're cummin' all over m'face, hmm baby? taste s'fucking sweet' Satoru dives back in and the sounds of him slurping you up are obscene

Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo licks and sucks your clit, humming on it until you're shattering, cumming so hard you see stars, then you're riding him right in that limo, struggling to take his huge cock, as it stretches your tight little pussy out, veiny and thick and sloppy, he moans into your mouth as your walls tighten around his cock, as he slams up endlessly into your pretty cunt over and over. You're on your knees, sucking his cum off him, off his pretty pink tip, before you're on your knees right in the plush limo seat, and he's hitting it from the back, making you cry out 'Satoru!' which makes him bust again, inside you so deep, pulling out and watching your arousal and his cock drip down so messy, before he scoops his sticky cum and shoves it back inside you.

Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo can't stop thinking of how good it looked, your pussy sucking up the cum so greedy, when he sees you the next day at your work, and it's not long until he's behind the bar, eating your pussy that he cannot get enough of, all while you're trying to work, you're so cute trying to mix a drink when his tongue is on your clit, and you're squeaking at him, 'Satoru, s-stop' but he can't stop. He's got your panties in his pocket, he'll keep them for later, you shouldn't worry about that, but you're trembling with nerves and fear when he runs out to deal with the Zenin bullshit with everyone, worried about things you don't fully know yet.

Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo is dying to get back to you, he doesn't wanna deal with all this shit, he just wants to drink you up more, but here he is, as he deals with some of the bullshit that the Zenins are doing, he can't stand them then, when he has to actually show them just who and what the Gojo family is. When he is covered in blood, him, Suguru, Toji and Sukuna come back to the club, exhausted, when you see him you blink back tears, and he murmurs 'come to my place, clean me up?' He is exhaling and shooting that smirk, but there's so much behind it, you see now. You eagerly obey, realizing you both don't know anything about each other yet, as you're bandaging his pretty face, all cut up, in his pristine bathroom, and you're wondering just what it is that Satoru has gotten into, but for now you both just kiss, his blood tangy against your lips, as his kiss gets hungry, desperate, and he murmurs 'I need you'

Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo He's smearing that blood across your pretty tits as he has you right on his bathroom counter, knowing he'll do anything to protect you, to keep you, from shit you will now get into for being with him, cupping your face as he fucks into you, and your eyes roll back in your skull, covered in Satoru's spit, his blood, now his precum as he's pumping in and out of you, knowing he certainly can't let you go, but he also can't let anyone know you're his weakness.

Buy me a glass of wine🍷 - Gen Masterlist - ©All works by Madamechrissy you may not reproduce

[suncoved]

RAFE, SCARY? PFFT ! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; boyfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: you had the most loving, sweet, precious boyfriend in the world. so why were your new found friends so scared of him?

prompt: “you let anything happen to her and i’ll fucking kill you, alright?”

you could barely contain your happiness as you applied your 5th layer of glittery lipgloss on your lips, holding the decorated pink tube in your manicured fingers. you batted your eyelids at the clock hung on rafe's wall.

kiara told you to be there at 8:00 and it was currently 7:30.

but you didn't want to be late, so leaving now was a good plan for you.

you had never met kiara's friends before. you had been best friends with her your whole life, but after she and sarah split, they told you you had to pick a side. and you would never tell sarah that the main reason you picked her was because of her psychotic older brother who was always roaming aimlessly around tannyhill.

sarah was your best friend, and you wouldn't trade her for the world.

but you couldn't help but ponder over what would have happened if you picked kiara, what life you would have had.

you missed her, truly. so when faced with the oppurtity to reconnect with her through your mothers exchanging numbers on one random night at the wreck, you took it.

and before you knew it she was inviting you to come down to the boneyard with some of her friends from the cut, to which you accepted gratefully.

you were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the bathroom door click open, the steam rolling out from underneath it like a tidal wave. you turned your head softly at the noise, placing the lipgloss applicator quickly back in the tube.

beads of water trickled down his v line, escaping into the beige towel wrapped around his waist into a place you didn't even have the time to imagine. he lifted his hand up to his head, running a hand through his now brown hair that had darkened from getting wet under the stream of water.

"quick rafe we have to go!" you whined, trying to avoid eye contact with the 6'2 tall build distraction in front of you. you shuffled around the room, going into his closet and picking out clothes for him to quickly put on since he insisted — well — demanded, on driving you down to the boneyard.

you shoved the clothes into his hands, his hand making contact with yours momentarily, creating a spark between the two of you. your cheeks flushed as you quickly looked away, turning around and taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

you watched as he made no effort to move, a smirk you know all too well gracing his face. "rafe, i mean it. get changed" you groaned as you pushed your palms into the soft covers of his king sized bed.

"if you wanted to see me naked baby, you could just say that."

your cheeks quickly turned into the darkest shade of pink you could imagine, your hands quickly reached up to your face, covering your eyes as you huffed softly.

he scoffed at your movements, reaching over to spread your fingers apart so you could see through them. "im just joking ma, you've seen it all before." he winked, moving back to see the full sight of him while lifting his bicep up and flexing it in your face.

you jokingly rolled your eyes, falling onto the bed so you were now staring at the ceiling. your fingers found their way to each other, nervously intertwining as you thought.

you heard rafe shuffling around near his closet, his fly ziping up and the clink of his belt being melody to your ears. "what if they don't like me?"

your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. if rafe wasn't listening he definitely would have missed it. but he always listens.. to you.

"impossible" he stated simply, using a tone that left no room for discussion. he didn't use that tone often, but when he did, you stayed quiet.

you chewed on your bottom lip, knitting your brows together.

you were so lucky to have rafe in your life. he was kind, caring and patient and always knew how to calm your anxiety.

honestly, you were surprised he let you go down to the beach with the pogues in the first place. you tried your best to keep out of that whole kook-pouge turf war as best as possible. to you, it was immature, unnecessary and just pointless. but it had been around on the island since before you could remember.

though, it was safe to say that you and rafe didn't see eye to eye on that topic. he didn't like the pogues, not one bit. and he made that very, very clear.

he knew how much you loved kiara, and how your face lit up when your mother's voice echoed through rafe's car speakers when she called you after seeing kiara's mother.

it took him longer to warm up to the idea that you would be seeing her whole friend group, which consists of just pogues, and most importantly, jj maybank.

there was nothing more rafe hated than jj maybank.

yet, he knew how happy this would make you. and he was willing to do this, for you. only for you.

"ready bubs" rafe announces, smoothing his polo down haphazardly and stuffing his feet into his shoes. he hears you pulling yourself up and off his bed, your socked feet padding over to him and resting your head on his chest.

he smiles and he brings his arms around your body. sighing contently as he places a kiss on your head before resting his chin on you. "they are gonna love you, like everyone loves you. don't think for a second that they won't"

you giggle against him, somehow trying to push yourself further into him, which was impossible.

"no im being serious baby, i have some serious competition." rafe huffed, pulling himself back from you and looking at your face peering up at him.

"shut up" you joke, your cheeks burning as you blushed at his words. he leaned down until his lips met yours, bringing his fingers to your chin and lifting your head up.

you two melted into each other, your sweet strawberry lipgloss coating his lips quickly. he didn't care though, he was kissing you. so nothing else mattered.

you were losing yourself in his touch, not noticing he was slowly pushing you back until your calfs hit the back of his dark oak bed frame and your body eventually fell against the soft fabric of his covers.

he slipped his hand up your lacy white cami, dragging his fingers up and down the soft skin of your stomach. he detached his lips from yours as his cold slender fingers slipped under the wire of your bra, kissing his way down your neck and chest.

you bit your now chapped lips as you looked down the the brunette boy making goosebumps appear over your skin. you threw your head back against his pillow closing your eyes and opening them again as your head lulled to the side.

your eyes fixated to the clock resting on his wall, reading 7:54. your mind ticked for a second before realising where you needed to be in exactly six minutes, gasping rather dramaticlly.

rafe's head snaps up to look at you, his eyes hooded with worry and hunger at the same time. it was only when he followed your eyes to his sleek white clock that he realised what had happened.

he rolled his eyes and he pulled your shirt back over your stomach, leaving one last searing kiss before smoothing the material down.

"rafe we have to go, now. now!" you whisper yelled almost slipping and you tried to put on your shoes while you hobbled out of his bedroom.

"baby, baby." he spoke, hopping up and walking quickly after you. he reached out to your waist holding you stable so you didn't slip over and hurt yourself.

"ok, ok. ill be careful. lets just go!" you gasped, trying to wiggle out of his firm grip. he chuckled as he let go, watching as you speed down the stairs of tannyhill and down to his white jeep parked out the front.

it was a fairly uneventful ride down to the boneyard, rafe's hand resting on your bouncing leg the whole time, slightly soothing the nervous feeling arising in your chest.

"c'mon baby, we're here" he voiced, opening his car door before quickly jumping out and circling the car before he opened yours for you. your eyes drifted down to the beach as rafe helped you out of his rather tall car.

a blonde boy with a backward cap resting on his head sat on a log with two other boys around your age, beers resting in their hands as they talked. your eyes followed along the beach where you saw kiara picking up trash along the shore, smiling brightly to yourself.

rafe intertwined his hand with yours, tightly squeezing it as he narrowed his eyes at the people on the beach. "you don't have to drink yeah? just tell them no, ok?" rafe spoke.

you nodded softly, peering up at him through your lashes to see his face stern and menacing.

you began walking first, dragging rafe softly behind you as your shoes hit the soft sand below you. you kept your eyes glued to your feet the whole way until you heard voices now crystal clear echoing through your ears.

"hey, you made it!" kiara exclaimed, bringing her arms around you as you let go of rafes hand. "hi kie" you murmured into her shoulder, embracing her into a soft hug.

"hey, rafe. what're you doing down these parts?" the blonde boy asked, standing up from his spot on the large log he was sitting down on before. you saw rafe tick his jaw to the side as you pulled away from kiara, his tongue sliding through the front of his teeth.

"just dropping her off maybank, not here to stay" rafe remarked, turning his attention to you as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your cheek, ghosting his hands over your sides as he pulled back from you.

"call me when you need me to pick you up yeah?" rafe said, keeping his eyes on you as you nodded hastily. he smiled sweetly at you, watching as kiara grabbed your hand a pulled you down to the shore, showing you the tiny baby turtles rushing into the water in front of you.

"hey jj" rafe said, turning his head to the boy standing a few feet from him, not daring to come any closer. rafe watched as he nodded cautiously, pursing his lips together as to almost prepare himself for what rafe was about to say.

rafe took a few steps before he reached jj, grabbing the fabric of his shirt and hoisting him up until they were face to face.

“you let anything happen to her and i’ll fucking kill you, alright?"

[w0rm3y]

BITE ME, BLOW ME- R. Sukuna

TAGS: Bully!Sukuna x Girl Scout!Reader, Enemies to Lovers, Childhood Enemies (but they really just liked each other), Growing Up, Humor, Smut, Sukuna whimpers in this, and Reader is the real bully here lol

WARNINGS: MDNI, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, oral (m!receiving), handjobs, public sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, car sex, creampie, degradation, bullying, porn with plot

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

SUMMARY: You and Sukuna realize your love language is just bullying one another, and choose to not acknowledge your feelings for one another until years later.

|| Masterlist || banner art @/r5x95r13ros on X

The first time you met Sukuna, you were ten and had just opened up your little scouts stand in front of his grandfather’s store, ready to sell cookies to whoever stepped up to your table. Little did you know, your first customer–or so you thought he was a customer–would be a salmon-haired boy around your age, with the deepest scowl you’d ever seen etched right into his mouth. At the time, you were still bright-eyed and innocent to the contempt that passively seeped out of Sukuna, so you weren’t exactly prepared to be under his critical eye right off the bat. 

“What is this?” he asked, gesturing to the table between you with disgust.

Smiling, you said, “Cookies. Wanna buy a box?”

 “No.” His upper lip twitched at your cheery attitude.

Your smile fell. “Oh. Alright, then-”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before he stormed off into the store.

The next time you saw him was two days later. Except, this time, his attitude seemed to have worsened.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, stopping in front of your table like he’d done before, regarding your dwindling selection of packaged cookies with a sneer. 

“Still selling cookies. I have to-”

“I don’t care, just hurry it up. My grandpa owns this store, and he says you’re driving away business.”

“That’s not true. He likes my cookie stand. He said so.”

“Then he was lying to you.”

Sukuna crossed his arms, and you did the same, mirroring his defensive stance as if it would help your confidence.

“I think you’re lying to me.”

“Pfft, as if I’d waste my time doing that-”

“You’re wasting your time right now by talking to me.”

“I don’t like you being here.”

“I don’t remember asking,” you snapped, squaring your shoulders. “Now buy a box, or hop along.”

After that confrontation, he didn’t bother you for the remainder of the time you were posted in front of his grandfather’s store that year, but that wasn’t the case for the next year, or the year after that. 

Each time you were there to sell your cookies, you could bet that Sukuna would make an appearance at least once to rain on your sparkly little parade of cookies and goodwill. It was difficult having to go from being the sweet scout, trying to sell her way to the top of her troop, to having to fend off the irritating remarks of a boy who didn’t even know you. But you managed to do it each time, and each time your troop leader announced you as the top seller of the year, you felt as though you were sticking it to the little boy who liked to bully you.

Eventually, you had risen up a couple of ranks in your troop and were able to sell cookies multiple times a year rather than just once. While you were excited for the opportunity and the challenge of remaining on top, you weren’t so excited to deal with Sukuna–who would no doubt be there to piss you off on day one.

Your theory was proved correct the second you finished meticulously placing your little boxes of cookies on your table–you were convinced the placement and pattern of flavors helped drive up your sales. 

Just as you situated the last box of the caramel crunch cookies perfectly beside the lemon crisps, you heard his voice from behind you.

“Back again? You were just here a couple of months ago.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to face your tormentor. “Yep. People do buy cookies all year round.”

“Sure, but why are they buying your cookies? They taste like shit.”

“They must not, if your grandpa keeps asking for me to come back because I’ve helped bring in loyal customers.” You leaned back against your table, not so subtly shifting your sash to show off that it was peppered with scout badges. “Apparently, they ask about me all the time.”

“Yeah, they ask when your ugly mug will stop showing up outside the store. You’re starting to scare the children.” 

Your eyes narrowed in his direction. "Bite me."

He snickered at your reaction and ventured closer, eating up the space between you. 

“But it’s true. They see your stupid fucking hat and that dumb smile on your face and think ‘god, I’m so glad I don’t have to look at her every day.’ Honestly, they probably only buy your cookies because they feel bad for you. Probably hoping you’re gonna take that money to the doctor’s to fix up your face.”

Raising his hand, he flicked your hat off your head, which angered you far more than it should have. 

In fact, it angered you so much that this particular confrontation with Sukuna ended with you pinning him to the ground on his stomach and forcing cookies into his mouth. Your mother ended up having to pry you off his back, which then led to a lengthy scolding from both of your parents–one that ended with you having to apologize to Sukuna.

Contrary to what you or your parents might’ve thought, Sukuna’s grandfather wasn’t upset by the news in the slightest, and even made Sukuna apologize to you afterward. Then, as if that weren’t enough to embarrass both of you, his grandfather went on to make a comment about Sukuna having a crush on you, which only served to have you both recoiling with disgust.

When you saw him again, it was autumn, right after you had just turned fifteen. You were starting your very first day of high school after just calming yourself down from an impending panic attack. You’d heard rumors on the bus rides home from elementary school about the high schoolers and how cruel they could be. 

Could high schoolers really be that mean? You’d just come from junior high, where the kids weren’t too terrible. Sure, there was petty girl drama in the bathrooms and boys starting fights with their friends at lunch, but you were able to stay out of it all by keeping your head down. You made friends with the girls, and the boys were too puny to really pick on you anyway. Could so much change with just a year's difference?

Your bus pulled up in front of the high school, jerking forward with its abrupt stop, just in time for one of your fellow freshmen to give out one last piece of advice.

“Apparently, the worst bully of them all is just a grade above us. His name is Sukuna, I think. My older brother said to avoid him if we don’t want to get beaten up.”

Despite the obvious warning in her tone, you felt a sense of ease wash over you. The worst thing here is Sukuna? If that’s the case, this should be easy for you. What’s there to be scared of? It was just last year that you had him pinned on the ground, telling him to say mercy while you shoveled cookies into his mouth.

“I know Sukuna, and he’s not that scary,” you reassured your friend as you both stepped off the bus. “Don’t worry. If we run into him, I’ll handle it. Matter of fact, let’s go find him now!”

Your friend paled. “What? Why?”

“To assert dominance before he gets a chance.”

You were confident, overzealous, and way too cocky for your own good. You had questioned before if so much could change in just a year, and the answer to that was yes, a lot could change. 

Of course, you didn’t know that at the time, but you were about to find out. You asked the other students if they’d seen him, and all of them gave you the most incredulous look that almost screamed ‘what are you doing?’, but you didn’t care.

When you finally tracked him down, he was in front of his open locker, stuffing things inside. The looks that everyone gave you as you stomped up beside him only inflated your ego, giving you the confidence to tap him pointedly on the back. 

Sukuna’s body stiffened, as if he couldn’t believe someone would poke his back like that without permission. You can assume that’s why the seething glare on his face is what you were graced with when he finally glanced over his shoulder, taking a moment to pull the red sucker out of his mouth to yell at whoever touched him, but once he realized it was you, the glare dropped into a look of absolute disinterest, maybe even a bit of disgust. A groan rumbled out of his throat as he slammed his locker shut.

“What do you want?”

It was only then that you truly understood the change, for this wasn’t the same Sukuna you pinned to the ground a year ago. He towered over you by at least a foot now, and all the baby fat that was stuck to his body spread out to make him look even bigger. 

However, what didn’t change was the passive discontent that radiated from him whenever he interacted with you. 

But this revelation only had you stunned for a moment before you remembered what you were doing in the first place. 

“You’re bigger than I remember,” you commented, disregarding his question. 

You caught the corner of his lips twitching, a sign that he was holding back some sort of smirk. 

“Yeah? You, too. Should probably lay off the cookies, you’re looking a little pudgy.” He grinned then, seemingly satisfied with his retort, and brought the sucker back to his mouth. His insult didn’t bother you in the slightest. In fact, you were prepared for it. “And look at this; you traded in that fugly hat for a stupid little bow.”

“You don’t like it?” you asked, fixing said bow on top of your head.

“You’d look better with your hair down. Let it cover your face, shield all of us from your ugliness.”

You rolled your eyes at his lame insult and continued, “I was told on the bus ride here that there’s a bully I needed to avoid. They said he’s the scariest guy in school, so imagine my surprise when they said his name was Sukuna.”

“Well, maybe you should listen to them and fuck off before I-” 

Before he could finish his threat, you reached up and grabbed the sucker from his mouth. Not giving it any more thought, you tossed it on the ground and stomped on it, shattering the candy into millions of little shards. The entire hallway went absolutely silent as they watched you do it, which gave another boost to the high you were running on. 

You grabbed his shirt, bunching it up into your fist, and pushed him back against the lockers. Sukuna, too shocked to even realize what was going on, let you do it. You leaned in, relishing the sight of his wide-eyed stare.

“Since you always come to me first, I decided to repay the favor by seeking you out this time. Let you know what it feels like, and all that.” Your grip on his shirt tightened as you stood on your tiptoes to get as close to his face as possible. “From here on out, don’t talk to me, don’t bother me, don’t even fucking look at me. Not here. Unless you want me to show everyone how weak the big bad bully at school really is. Got it?”

Through a clenched jaw and reddened cheeks, he agreed and grabbed your wrist to pull you off him. You let him go, and when you turned back to your friend, she could only stare at you in amazement, which you took immense pride in. Lacing your arm through hers, you led her toward your first class of the day.

“You’re crazy,” she gushed in astonishment. 

“I know,” you chirped, leaning in even closer. “He’s kinda cute though, isn’t he?”

You decided then that you had a crush on him.

Sukuna stayed true to his word; he didn’t bother you, talk to you, or look at you. While at school.

Out of school, however, was a different story. Specifically on the weekends when you were outside his grandfather’s store, selling cookies and other scout items, he was there each and every time, ready to ruin your day–though, eventually, you found that his stopping by didn’t actually ruin your day at all. You were genuinely looking forward to pissing him off with your witty comebacks that he never seemed to be prepared for. 

And it was so easy, too. They didn’t require much effort. In actuality, all you needed was a snarky retort to have him shut down and retreat into the store, yet he still came back every single time. Sometimes, multiple times a day if he got a second wind. 

Today was one of those days.

“Can’t you go be dumb somewhere else?”

“Nope,” you answered curtly, not even giving him your attention. “Our lovely little town needs these cookies, Sukuna. What would they do without them? More importantly, what would you do without having me here to badger and berate when you feel like it?”

“Probably be bored.”

You snapped your fingers. “Exactly. See? My presence is dual-purpose.”

“Right. You’re here to sell overpriced junk while also making people nauseous with your face.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your grandpa was right when he said you had a crush on me.”

You didn’t miss the warmth that bloomed over his face, even if he tried to hide it behind another insult. 

“Please, as if I could ever find someone like you pretty enough to date.”

“Then cool it with the ugly jokes because you’re gonna give people the wrong idea.”

“Then stop being ugly.”

“You first.”

He scoffed, “I am not ugly. Lots of girls think I’m very attractive.”

“Who? And you can’t say your mom or your grandma.”

“Jokes on you. My mom and my grandma are both gone.”

You clicked your tongue, “Bummer. You lost the only two members of your fan club. My heart goes out to you.”

You watched the muscle in his jaw clench over and over before he said, “I hate you.”

“If you hated me, you’d leave me alone.”

“And you’re ugly.”

A grin pulled at the corner of your mouth. “Whatever you say, beautiful.”

“And you’re– wait, what?”

As you imagined, your disguised compliment threw him for a loop once he realized what you’d said. 

“Whatever you say, beautiful,” you repeated, chuckling to yourself. If his cheeks were warm before, there was a simmering heat on them now. “Look at you, a total blushing mess. Did you like that, or something?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Am I? Because you look like you’re about to start giggling and kicking your feet. So, who’s really disgusting here?”

“You. It’s always you. You’re so…” he trailed off when you watched you make a jerking off gesture as he spoke. 

“Get the fuck away from my cookie stand, Kuna. You’re driving away business,” you lilted sweetly, waving him off.

With nothing more to say, Sukuna did just that. And because you just couldn’t help yourself, you called out to his retreating back, “Look at you, following orders!” In response, all you received was double middle fingers, which was good enough for you. You gave yourself a pat on the back for successfully pissing him off for the day. 

The cycle continued until you graduated from your troop and were promoted to one of its leaders. While doing that, you also managed to graduate from high school and start university. You didn’t see much of Sukuna after that. Granted, you were never in places to cross paths, but you thought about him often enough to consider yourself to miss him. Before you knew it, two years went by without seeing him at all, and eventually, you forgot all about him, or so you thought. 

When it came time for your troop kiddos to start selling cookies, you suggested taking a few of them to the store you used to sell in front of, with permission from the owner, of course, which is why you were standing at the manager's desk, waiting for one of the employees to return with the owner. When he returned empty-handed and a sheepish grin on his face, you frowned. 

“Unfortunately, the owner went home early today.”

“Is there anyone else I could talk to about this? The girls were kinda excited to sell cookies tomorrow. Sorry, I know this is really last-minute.”

The employee shook his head. “No worries, it’s just that uh… the only other person who might be able to help is the owner’s grandson, and he-”

“Sukuna?” you asked, perking up as the memories faded back into your mind. “He’s still here?”

“Yes, but he’s-”

“Where is he?”

“Unloading the truck, but, ma’am-”

“Thanks! I think I can find it!” You brushed off anything else the employee had to say and began making your way toward the back of the store. 

Years of spending your time at this very place, you knew your way around pretty well, and since things didn’t seem to have changed too much, you found the loading dock fairly easily. And even easier to find was the giant tattooed man in the bed of the truck, moving around crates of produce. As you ventured closer to the truck, you took the time to appreciate the man that he’d grown into–he’d come a long way from the childish boy you’d once known.

When he saw you approach, he paused, squinting in your direction before the look of realization crossed his face. The crate in his hands dropped into the bed of the truck with a harsh thud before he jumped down in front of you.

“What?” he gruffed, taking the cloth from his back pocket to wipe the sweat off his forehead. 

“Hi, Kuna,” you greeted with a smile, one that was not reciprocated. “Your grandpa’s not here.”

“Went home. Said he wasn’t feeling well.” 

“I see. Well, I was just stopping by to-”

“To ask if you could sell in front of the store. Yeah, I know. That employee should have told you to fuck off.”

You tilted your head playfully. “Now, why would he tell me that?”

“Because that’s what I told him to tell you. But since you didn’t listen to him, I’ll say it: fuck off.”

You didn’t lose your smile, no matter how badly he wished for you to. Instead, you mused, “That’s not very nice, Kuna. Where’s that sweet boy I remember from before-”

"Blow me," he grumbled, brushing past you to grab the dolly resting beside the truck. 

You watched as he wheeled it around to the bed before asking, “Is that what it will take to get you to agree?”

With his back to you, you watched his entire frame stiffen before you heard him chuckle. “You’d suck my dick just to sell mediocre cookies in front of my store?”

“No, I’d suck your dick to let my girls sell mediocre cookies in front of your store,” you cheerfully corrected him, though he didn’t seem impressed when he glanced back at you. “What? They want to win the karaoke machine.”

“So take them to a different store.”

“No can do, it needs to be this one.”

“Yeah?” he countered, grunting when he grabbed one of the heavy crates from the bed to load onto the dolly. “Why’s that?”

“This one is popular, and the staff is so mean that it helps build character. Also, I know you don’t want me here, and that makes me want to be here even more.”

Sukuna snickered to himself after a second of contemplating your offer. The dolly hit the ground, metal clanking as he turned to face you again, rubbing his jaw and looking you up and down before a grin spread over his mouth. 

“Sorry, princess, but I’m working right now, so you’ll have to take your little troop somewhere else-”

Your fist curled into his tank top like it did all those years ago, and you pushed him back against the truck. The only difference between then and now was the size difference and his tattoos.

“I’ll be damned if those girls don’t get their karaoke machine because you’re too big of a pussy to let me blow you.”

A glare twisted onto his face as his hand wrapped around your wrist. You knew he could have pried you off of him if he wanted to, but he didn’t.

“What makes you think I’d want your whore mouth around my dick anyway? Your face hasn’t changed, you’re still an ugly little bitch–you couldn’t get me hard, even if you tried.”

“Are you in denial? Or do you just like lying?” you asked, glancing down between your bodies where Sukuna’s very prominent hard-on was poking into your stomach.

“Fuck you.”

“You want to?” You glanced back up at him, giggling when he immediately averted his eyes. “I’ll let you. As long as you promise to let the girls sell outside your store.”

“Christ,” he exhaled incredulously, laughing, “have you always been an easy slut?”

“For you? Yeah.” You leaned in closer while also pulling him down by the grip you still had on his shirt. “But you were too scared of me to notice the giant crush I had on you.”

His eyes flicked to your lips. “You’re lying.”

“Now, why would I lie about that? We’re both adults now, and a school crush is just a silly thing to make up. What? You think I’d lie about it in hopes that we’ll fuck because of it?”

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

“Then let me suck you off. Lemme prove I’m not in it for the free fuck. I mean, unless you wanna…” You trailed off suggestively, which seemed to snap what little control Sukuna had in half. 

His hand ripped yours away from his shirt, and with it, he roughly pushed you toward the driver’s side door, which was already open. He turned you to face him, and with his hands on your shoulders, pushed you down onto your knees in front of him. You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out of you at his insistence.

“For someone who didn’t want head from me, you sure are eager-”

“Shut up,” he snapped, fingers making quick work to unbuckle his belt. 

You raised your hands to help, popping his button and pulling down the zipper as his fingers sifted through your hair until he had a nice hold on it at the roots. You didn’t even have time to pull his boxers down before he was mashing your cheeks over his dick, grinding against it as you looked up at him. 

When your mouth spread into an arrogant grin, he scoffed, “Just because I’m letting you do this, doesn’t mean I’ll like you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why don’t you just put your dick in my mouth already before you cum while dryhumping my cheek? Because, I swear to you, I’ll never let you live that down.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers as he grumbled, “I really fucking hate you.”

“Do you?” you asked, taking his cock into your hands, stroking him slowly as you brought him to your mouth. “‘Cause you’re definitely making heart eyes at me right now.” 

Rather than responding, he just groaned and forced his dick into your mouth. He didn’t give you much time to allow your throat to relax around his length before he was guiding your head in long, languid strokes. 

You were severely out of practice for this sort of thing, and even then, the last time you’d deepthroated someone was your boyfriend from a couple of years ago, whose dick was nowhere near the size of Sukuna’s.

Tears brimmed in your eyes as your gag reflex was triggered, which told your mouth to produce so much drool that it began dripping down your chin with just the first few strokes of him down your throat. It collected on your top, making it stick to your skin in such an uncomfortable way. But, god, it was so worth it to see the expression on his face as he looked down at you, fighting tooth and nail to keep from making a sound.

If you could’ve, you would’ve commented on it just to see the heat bloom over his face again. 

His free hand raised to clamp onto the roof of the truck on a particularly deep swallow around his cock, the other forcing your head down until he was sitting balls deep in your throat, pulsing as if he were about to cum. With your hands resting on your thighs to steady yourself, you could feel the slight tremble in them.

“I really didn’t think someone like you could be such a slut…” he whispered to himself, almost in disbelief. “But look at you, taking it down your throat so easily. Had a lot of practice?”

You nodded to the best of your ability, and the movement of your head had his eyelids fluttering ever so slightly. While he seemed content to live in your throat forever, you still needed to breathe. With that in mind, you tapped his thigh, wordlessly telling him to let you go, which he did. 

You took him into your fist, pumping him with a steady, consistent grip as you breathlessly added, “Always thought about doing this with you, though. Even with my last boyfriend-” You focused your touch on his tip as you explained, quickening the pace without warning.

“F-Fuck,” he cursed, thrusting into your fist to lessen the overstimulation, but with your hand pressing into his thigh, you stopped him. His head tilted back as he breathed, “Fuck you, that’s t-too much.” 

“Is it?” you purred, allowing him to rock his hips into your fist to the best of his ability while you were still holding him back. In a way, it was kinda cute that he couldn’t help himself. 

“Such a fucking bitch…”

While it sounded as if he were complaining, he made to point to stop you, not even when the softest whine passed his lips. However, that had been your undoing–you wanted to hear more of that, but this time in your ear. 

With him not paying attention to anything other than your hand slicking up and down his cock, you stood to your feet and swiftly traded places with him before it could even register in his mind what you were doing. You pushed him into the truck, much like he’d done with you, except he landed on the weathered leather seat. You unzipped your skirt at the side, allowing it to fall to the dirty ground below you before hopping up into the truck with Sukuna. 

He rushed you onto his lap, pulling your panties to the side in the process. But just before you’d sink down on his cock, you needed to know something first. 

“You had a crush on me, too, right?”

A deep groan came from the back of his throat. “You wanna talk about that now?”

“Yeah, I do.” You inched down on his dick, just a little bit before pulling yourself off again. “Did you?”

“Fuck–you know I did, you fucking bitch,” he groused, subtly flexing his hips to brush his tip between your pussy.

It was then you decided to put him out of his misery–and yours, too. You wanted this just as bad as he did. 

You sank down on him, moaning from the stretch of it, and slowly situated yourself on his lap to allow you time to adjust to the size. Sukuna was apparently feeling a bit generous because he didn’t try to make you move. Instead, he grabbed the hem of your top and forced it up over your breasts, doing the same with your bra until your tits were bare and in his face. But it was that that etched away at his patience.

With his mouth latched onto your nipple, tongue swirling over the bud, his hands moved to your ass, fingertips sinking into the plushness of it to guide your hips until you got the hang of it for yourself.

“Can’t believe… we’re fucking before… our first kiss,” you breathelessly joked.

“There is no first kiss, dumbass,” he panted. “We aren’t together.”

“Yes, we are,” you argued. 

“Says who?”

“Me.” 

Then, without warning, he grabbed the back of your hair and forced your mouth onto his in a brutal kiss. You moaned into it, then again when you felt his tongue licking against your own. His noises mirrored yours as the rhythm grew too sloppy. Both of you were close, just dancing around the edge. All you needed was a little push-

And then he whined, albeit quietly, but you’d heard it. It was that sound that did you in, and with your orgasm causing your walls to flutter and tighten around him, he found his own, following you over that edge to paint his release deep inside you.

“H-Holy sh–oh, my god,” he whimpered against your mouth, which did tons for your ego, for you had the big bad bully from school rendered to a whiny mess. 

To be fair, you weren’t any better, but you were sure it was working on his own ego, too.

When your rocking came to a stop and the only movement left was the rapid rise and fall of your chests as you both worked to gulp down oxygen, Sukuna cursed under his breath. 

“Please tell me you’re on birth control.”

You snorted and patted his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have let you cum inside of me if I wasn’t.” He let out a sigh of relief, which made you giggle. “So, the girls can sell in front of the store, right?”

“Good morning, Mr. Sukuna,” the girls from your troop greeted in unison when Sukuna approached the store the next morning. He blinked, a scowl growing deeper and deeper by the second as his eyes landed on you, sitting behind the table with a smile. You subtly nodded toward the group, silently telling him to greet them back, or else.

“Morning,” he grumbled, grumpy as ever, before making his way into the store. 

When he was gone, one girl from your troop turned to you with a frown. “Are you sure he’s your boyfriend? He looks really mean.”

“Yeah,” another girl added. “He’s scary.”

You waved her off playfully. “Pfft, Sukuna’s not scary at all. Trust me, he’s a total softie.”

[hearts4pbaz]

I'll Fold You

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Words: 5.3K

Warnings: sexual content‼️

Synopsis: Girlfriends, teammates, and now rivals in a very intense bet. When their teammates tease that they can’t go a week without sex, Paige and Azzi make a bet: whoever physically initiates sex first loses.

Notes: i really like how this turned out. this was my first time writing smut, so lmk how it is. your comments or much appreciated

It started on a random Thursday night, like most stupid ideas do. The mood in the shared Bueckers-El Alfy-Ziebell apartment was lazy—empty take-out boxes and snacks strewn around the living room—Ice and KK having come over nearly two hours ago. Azzi, too, if basically living there, still counts as coming over. She was now cuddled up to Paige, the older girl’s hand resting on the caramel skin hidden under Azzi’s hoodie.

“Bro, y’all are disgusting,” Jana said, mouth full of Takis, wagging a red-stained finger at the couple. “Why Paige always got her hand in your hoodie, Azzi? You cold or she just feel up them titties?”

Paige smirked and didn’t move her hand. “Can’t a girl cuddle her girl in peace?”

“No, Jana’s right, y’all act like you ain’t seen each other in years and not five minutes,” Ice added, chuckling from the floor. “I bet y’all can’t go 24 hours without makin’ out.”

Azzi blushed but didn’t back down. “Jealousy isn’t a good color on you Ice,” she quipped.

“Oh, please,” KK chimed in. “Y’all so wrapped up in each other, if one of you leaves the room for longer than five minutes, the other one gets withdrawal symptoms. It’s sick.”

Jana leaned forward, dramatically. “Nah, forreal. Y’all wouldn’t last a week without touching. Without sex? Pfft. Two days. Max.”

Paige looked at Azzi. Azzi looked at Paige. A beat passed.

“You tryna bet?” Paige raised a brow, already grinning like she won.

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “On what?”

“Whoever goes the longest without physically initiating sex wins. First one to cave—loses.”

Jana’s eyes widened. “Ooooh, this is about to be good.”

Azzi held out her hand. Paige shook it firmly. “Deal. Winner gets to have the loser do whatever they want.”

The first 24 hours were fine. Surprisingly easy, even. They’d gone a day without having sex. It was just what being a DI athlete entailed. They kept their usual routine—classes, workouts, film, naps. No biggie. They still slept in the same bed, on the logic that nothing can happen while they’re sleeping, and, sure, their backs were turned like enemies, but they were good. They were fine.

By day two, though? The bet turned into a different beast. 

Azzi tugged her practice jersey off and tried not to look over. Paige was two lockers down, shirtless, abs glistening slightly from sweat, talking with KK about a drill from earlier.

Azzi swallowed hard and focused on unlacing her shoes.

“You good, Az?” Ice asked.

“Fine,” she said, a little too quickly.

Paige caught that.

“Oh, by the way, Az,” she said casually. “You left your sports bra in my laundry again. Wanna come get it later? Or should I bring it to your room… still warm.”

Azzi didn’t even flinch. “You touchin’ my laundry now? Sounds like an invite to me.”

“Someone’s hopeful,” Paige grinned. “But, nah, not an invite, just tryin’ to be helpful.”

Azzi leaned in close, whispering just loud enough. “Tryin’ to be slick.”

Ice, a witness to the interaction, quickly made her way out of the locker room. Mutter something along the lines of, “Y’all still nasty, even when you’re not fucking.”

Later that afternoon, Paige limped into the training room and let out a long, dramatic groan. “Yo, my quads feel like I got tackled by a bus.”

“You always complainin',” KK said, already halfway into the ice bath.

Azzi, already in one of the tubs across the room, raised a brow. “You coming in or just gonna monologue from the door?”

Paige stripped down to her sports bra and compression shorts and slid in with a hiss. “God, this is the worst good idea ever.”

Azzi smirked. “Should I come help you relax?”

Paige turned to her with narrowed eyes. “Ma’am… that is sexual harassment.”

“Oh, now you care about boundaries?”

KK cackled from the corner. “Y’all are disgusting at every temperature.”

“Don’t be mad just ’cause no one wanna flirt with you in an ice tub,” Paige shot back.

Azzi leaned her arms on the edge of her tub, watching Paige with a lazy smile. “You need help warming up after this?”

“Yeah...I’m good,” Paige muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Dinner that night was meant to be chill—just the team and food, glued together by their newfound trauma over Coach’s new conditioning routine. But of course, Paige and Azzi couldn’t help themselves. They sat across from each other, tension thick between them even as they passed around breadsticks.

“You know,” Paige said, stabbing her salad with her fork. “I read somewhere carbs make you more... affectionate.”

“Pretty sure you made that up,” Azzi replied without looking up from her pasta.

“Prove I didn’t.”

Azzi calmly reached for her water and took a slow sip. “Maybe I will. Later.”

KK slams her fork down. “Can y’all stop talking like y’all in a Netflix romcom with a TV-14 rating? Damn.”

Jana nodded. “Y’all got the whole table third-wheeling.”

Ice pushed her plate away. “I can’t eat when Paige is out here tryin’ to seduce a girl over linguine.”

“I’m just vibin’,” Paige said with a shrug, eyes locked on Azzi. “I ain’t doin’ nothin’.”

Azzi smirked. “You ain’t slick, Bueckers.”

“Neither are you, Fudd.”

Later that night in Paige’s room, they went through their normal bedtime routine—brushing teeth, skincare, scrolling TikTok side by side. Like normal. Totally normal.

Paige flopped onto her bed in an oversized tee, pulling the blanket up to her chin like she needed protection. Azzi turned off the main light and climbed into bed with her, placing a pillow between them, humming something soft under her breath.

After a few minutes of silence, Paige peeked over.

“You cold?”

“Nope.”

“...I could warm you up.”

Azzi turned, grinning in the dark. “Is that you initiating?”

“I’m offering... services,” Paige replied. “Like a heated blanket. No strings.”

Azzi laughed quietly. “Nice try.”

They both lay in silence, tension practically crackling in the air.

Paige groaned into her pillow. “This is hell.”

Azzi rolled over. “Goodnight, Paige.”

“Night, Azzi.”

A beat.

“I still hate you.”

“Sure you do.”

The next day, Azzi put Paige to the test. 

“You guys have to stop using me as your free Uber driver whenever you want to go out,” Paige chided, dragging her feet through the parking lot.

“And yet you agree every time we ask,” KK said.  “Also, we gotta see how long you and Azzi can go without jumpin’ each other in public.”

Azzi smirked as they walked into Aritzia, already plotting.

After twenty minutes of half-hearted browsing, Azzi walked into a fitting room, form-fitting, satin dress in hand.

A few minutes later, she poked her head out of the fitting room, eyes flitting to Paige sitting with KK and Ice on one of the couches, “I need you,” she said innocently. “It won’t zip.”

KK’s jaw dropped. “Oh, she dirty.”

“Yo, that’s a trap,” Ice whispered.

Paige stood up off the couch like a moth to a flame anyway.

Inside the tiny fitting room, Azzi, back to Paige, had the dress on, the zipper halfway up.

“Can you—?” she said, looking over her shoulder to meet Paige’s eyes.

Paige gulped. The curve of Azzi’s back was criminal, too muscular for its own good, if you ask Paige.

“Y’know I ain’t losin’ to you,” Paige muttered as she slowly zipped it up, fingers grazing skin like it didn’t matter.

Azzi sucked in, face close. “Then don’t.”

They stared at each other for one long, loaded second.

“Y’all good in there?” Jana called out.

Both jumped like the walls were wired.

After the fitting room debacle, the group made their way out of Aritzia and started strolling through the mall, half window shopping, half people watching.

Ice spotted a Build-A-Bear and dragged KK toward it with an excited “Broooo we makin’ twins.”

Paige and Azzi trailed behind, walking just a little too close.

They stepped onto the escalator, Paige in front, Azzi behind her.

It started innocently. Then Azzi leaned forward, breath just brushing Paige’s ear.

“I didn’t even ask if you liked the dress.”

Paige gripped the rail tightly. “You tryin’ to kill me in public?”

Azzi smirked. “Just wanted your opinion. You were... quiet in there.”

“That was survival silence.”

“Mmhmm.”

As they reached the top, Paige muttered, “Next time I’m zipping you up blindfolded.”

Azzi leaned back, satisfied. “You’d miss.”

Paige looked like she wanted to respond, but decided living was more important.

The girls regrouped at the food court. KK and Ice were hyped about their new stuffed bears, one of which wore a UConn jersey made of cut-up socks. (“Look at the drip,” KK said. “Bear’s better dressed than Ice.”)

Meanwhile, Paige and Azzi stood in line for pretzels, doing their best to act normal, which was getting harder by the hour.

“You want cinnamon or regular?” Paige asked, staring straight ahead.

“Cinnamon,” Azzi said. “You always eat mine anyway.”

Paige snorted. “Lies.”

“You literally stole the last bite last time and said it was ‘your prize for being the better shooter.’”

“That was a fair tax.”

They got their pretzels and sat with the others, chewing in tense silence. Paige took a bite, turned to say something smart, and locked eyes with Azzi, who already had her finger in her mouth, licking cinnamon sugar off it like she didn’t know what she was doing.

Paige dropped her pretzel.

“Y’all see that?” Ice said, eyes wide. “Paige blinked like three times in a row. She glitchin’.”

Azzi looked innocent. “Something wrong?”

Paige looked down at the table as if it had personally offended her. “Nope. Just... hot pretzel.”

KK leans over to Ice. “These two gon’ combust before day five, I’m callin’ it now.”

On the drive back, Paige took the aux cord. She had one rule: vibe control.

But Azzi, sitting up front now, leaned over and subtly skipped every song Paige played after thirty seconds.

“What are you doing?” Paige asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I’m curating the mood.”

Paige scoffed. “You tryin’ to sabotage the mood.”

“Oh, I’m setting one. You just don’t like not being in charge.”

Paige turned down the volume. “Keep it up, Fudd. I’ll put on Baby Shark and blast it.”

“I dare you.”

“You think I won’t ruin everybody’s night with children’s YouTube core?”

“I hope you do,” Azzi said with a smirk. “Because that’s when I’ll know I’ve won.”

KK groaned from the backseat. “Ayo. I don’t care who wins. Just don’t punish us.”

Ice added, “Y’all’s sexual tension got GPS rerouting us to hell.”

Paige cracked a smile, then hit play on “Love Language” by SZA.

Azzi just leaned her head against the window, humming along with the lyrics.

And Paige gripped the steering wheel like it was a flotation device.

Tomorrow was going to be hell.

The fourth day starts at 6 a.m. sharp with team conditioning. Spirits were low. Knees were sore. The gym smelled like effort and regret. Azzi walked in late, hair up in a messy bun, rocking the tightest pair of leggings Paige had ever seen.

Paige tripped over a foam roller.

“Damn, P,” KK said, laughing. “What, the floor attack you?”

“She good?” Ice asked.

“I’m fine,” Paige grunted, shooting Azzi a glare.

Azzi just gave a polite, confused smile like she didn’t know her whole outfit was a psychological assault.

During suicides, Paige caught herself watching the way Azzi moved two steps ahead. After the third glance, she slapped herself in the face.

Ice, jogging beside her, side-eyed. “Yo… what is wrong with you?”

“Shin splints.”

“That’s your face.”

“Mind yo business.”

Later that afternoon in the weight room, the girls were spotting each other for bench press. Azzi sat on the nearby bench, sipping from her water bottle and watching Paige push through a heavy set.

“You good?” she asked sweetly. “You look like you’re struggling.”

“I’m not struggling,” Paige grunted, arms shaking. “I’m dominating.”

Azzi stood up and walked over, a towel over her shoulder. “Need a spot?”

“Nope,” Paige said through clenched teeth.

“You sure? I’m great with my hands.”

KK, at the squat rack, nearly choked on her protein shake.

Azzi backed off with a smirk and returned to her bench. Paige stared up at the ceiling like she needed divine strength.

That evening before the movie night, they all met in the study lounge for mandatory study hall. Paige sat at a table, headphones in, trying to finish an essay. Azzi slid into the seat beside her, placed her laptop down… and then kicked her shoes off.

Paige noticed. Paige definitely noticed.

Then Azzi did the unthinkable—stretched her leg out, bare foot sliding juuust close enough under the table that Paige flinched.

“You got somethin’ to say?” Azzi asked innocently.

“Why are you like this?”

“I’m studying. You’re the one looking at my feet.”

“You put ‘em in my zone.”

“This your foot territory now?”

Paige stood up so fast her chair squeaked.

“Going to the bathroom,” she muttered, walking off.

Jana, across the room, didn’t even look up from her notebook. “Y’all weird.”

And lo and behold, on the fourth day, Azzi showed up to Paige’s room in Paige’s UConn hoodie and no pants.

“Seriously?” Paige asked, eyeing her bare thighs.

“I was cold,” Azzi said, settling on the couch beside her. “Thought maybe we could cuddle.”

Paige sat as far away as the couch would allow. “Then maybe try putting on some pants. You really tryna win, huh?”

Azzi just smiled sweetly. “I’m not doing anything,” climbing into Paige’s bed.

They watched Love & Basketball in tense silence. Paige kept stealing glances. Azzi definitely noticed.

Halfway through, Azzi stretched like a cat, her leg brushing Paige’s.

“You good?” Paige asked, voice hoarse.

“Great,” Azzi said, all innocence. “Just comfy.”

The pair fell asleep before the movie was over, still careful not to be touching.

Paige woke up warm. Too warm.

Sunlight crept through her blinds, and her brain was just starting to come online when she realized:

Azzi. Was. Cuddling. Her.

Correction—they were cuddling. Tangled. Entwined. Azzi’s leg was hooked over her thigh, an arm slung across her stomach like it belonged there, face tucked into Paige’s neck. The pillow that once separated them discarded at the foot of the bed.

Paige didn’t move at first. Her brain was short-circuiting. Warning sirens were going off internally, screaming DANGER and WEAKNESS DETECTED.

Azzi stirred against her, nuzzling in with a sleepy sigh. “Mmm... comfy.”

Paige flinched like the word physically hit her.

“Az,” she said, hoarse. “You’re cheating.”

Azzi didn’t open her eyes. “I’m sleeping.”

“You came in here pantless. You knew what you were doing.”

Azzi cracked one eye open and looked up, voice barely a whisper. “I can leave.”

She moved slightly, just enough that her thigh grazed between Paige’s legs.

Paige actually whimpered. God. Five days no sex was really starting to get to her physically.

“Nope,” she blurted, arm tightening instinctively. “Stay.”

Azzi’s grin was slow, smug, and victorious. “Mmhm. That’s what I thought.”

By some miracle, Paige had made it through the day without spontaneously combusting. Barely.

Classes. Study hall. A team meeting that dragged on forever. Paige buried herself in busy work, headphones in, hoodie up, eyes down. Anything to stay out of Azzi’s gravitational pull.

But Azzi didn’t make it easy.

In the locker room after their lift, Paige spotted her out of the corner of her eye—in just a sports bra and shorts, fresh from the shower, moisture still clinging to her abs. She looked like she belonged in a body wash commercial and a fever dream at the same time.

Paige audibly gulped.

“You okay?” Ice asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m fine,” Paige snapped.

Ice leaned in. “She walk by again?”

Paige didn’t say anything. Which was its own answer.

That night, the team had a little game night. Azzi showed up to kill—this time in tiny sleep shorts and that same damn hoodie Paige always let her borrow.

KK clocked it immediately. “She tryna finish the job,” she whispered to Ice. “That’s the closer fit.”

Paige tried not to look. Tried.

They played Uno. Azzi sat across from her with her legs stretched out, bare thigh brushing Paige’s shin under the table every time she “accidentally” shifted.

“You’re cheating,” Paige muttered when Azzi drew four and placed her card down with a smirk.

Azzi batted her lashes. “I’m playing to win.”

“I meant the game. And life. And this damn bet.”

Azzi gave a knowing shrug, sipping her Gatorade like it was tea. “Maybe you should’ve folded yesterday.”

Later that night, Paige walked into her room and immediately stopped in the doorway.

Azzi was already there. Sitting in her bed. Scrolling on her phone like she owned the place. Lights low. A candle lit on the desk. Hoodie still on. No pants in sight.

Paige closed the door slowly. “You’re not even pretending anymore.”

Azzi looked up. “It’s your bed.”

“And you’re in it.”

“I figured we made it through the day. Thought I’d stay over like usual.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Like usual? Az, we’re at war.”

Azzi patted the blanket beside her. “Truce for the night?”

Paige hovered. “This is how you kill me.”

Azzi shrugged. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You are something.”

That made Azzi smirk. “You gonna sleep on the floor?”

Paige stared at the ceiling. Then exhaled hard like she was being dragged to her doom. “No. I’m gonna regret this in five minutes.”

She slid under the covers, keeping a respectable distance.

Azzi didn’t say anything. Just turned, facing her. Quiet. Calm. A killer in disguise.

Minutes passed. Paige pretended to scroll. Azzi yawned.

Then… Azzi scooted just an inch closer. Their legs touched. Bare skin against bare skin.

Paige flinched. “Az.”

“Hm?”

“You know what you’re doing.”

Azzi blinked, the picture of innocence. “I’m cold.”

“Lie better.”

“I could take the hoodie off instead.”

“Please don’t.”

Another beat of silence.

Then Azzi whispered, “You still holding on?”

Paige was breathing heavier now, eyes on the ceiling like it could save her.

“Barely.”

Azzi leaned in, lips just barely avoiding Paige’s jaw.

“You don’t have to.”

Paige snapped her head to face her.

And that was it.

Paige kissed her. Hard. Five days of tension—five days of wanting—five days of holding back finally spilling out. Her hands came up, cupping Azzi’s jaw as she nibbled down on the older girl’s bottom lip, swiping her tongue over it. 

Azzi let out a noise low in her throat. And it made Paige feel like she’d been lit on fire. Paige’s lips moved down to Azzi’s jaw and neck as she threw one leg over Azzi’s hips, straddling her, laying them both down on the bed.

Paige’s hands were just about to slide under Azzi’s hoodie when she spoke up, Paige freezing above her, “Ah, not so fast. I won, which means I get to have you do anything I want.”

“And that is…?” Paige questioned breathlessly, clearly not understanding the implications of Azzi’s current power.

Wrapping her arms around Paige’s neck, lifting herself to meet her ear, Azzi whispered, “All you have to do is behave. Just listen to what I tell you to do while I’m fucking you with the strap.”

Azzi’s comment made Paige sit up, “Azzi, no. No way am I being fucked by you.”

“A bet’s a bet, Paigey,” she leaned in closer, lowering her voice again, “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Paige sighed, “Fine, it’s in the closet, the orange Nike shoe box.”

Azzi smiled, leaning down to plant a peck on Paige’s lips before jumping off the bed, making her way over to the closet. 

Paige flopped down on her back, staring at the ceiling, a twinge of something bordering excitement settling low in her stomach. 

Azzi returned, tossing the toy on the bed, moving to straddle her legs on top of Paige. She looks down at the older girl, fingers coming to fiddle with Paige's hoodie strings, “I’ll only do this if you're actually okay with it, and you say the word and I’ll stop,” she hums.

Paige didn’t say anything at first, she just looked up at Azzi, eyes wide, and then lifted her head to plant a peck on the brunette’s lips, “Okay,” she says softly.

A small smile played on Azzi’s lips,” Great,” she chimed before connecting both their lips. The kiss was tender and soft, letting the heat build between them naturally. Azzi’s hands travelled down to the hem of Pagie’s hoodie, pulling her up to sitting, tugging it over her head, then tossing it to the floor beside her. Paige’s sports bra quickly followed, leaving her only in the sweatpants hanging low on her hips and the pair of boxers peaking out of the waistband of her sweats.

Paige lay back down, her blonde hair splayed out on the pillow as Azzi adjusted herself on top of her. Azzi began to trail kisses downward, stopping at the junction of Paige’s neck sucking the spot above her collarbone, before running her tongue along the area, continuing her minstrations further south.

Her mouth then came to Paige’s breasts, lips closing around one nipple, one hand moving to cup the other. She dragged her tongue and thumb over the pebbled buds, making Paige inhale sharply, throwing her head back. 

Azzi then travelled over to the valley between Paige’s breasts, resting her chin there momentarily, looking up at the blonde, she whispered, “You’re so pretty like this, all laid out f’me.”

Paige didn’t respond, instead, she threw an arm over her face in an attempt to hide the blush creeping onto her cheeks. Warmth pooled low in her stomach.

Azzi’s mouth moved lower, eventually coming to the patch of skin directly below Paige’s navel and directly above the waistband of her sweatpants. Azzi looked up at Paige, silently looking for permission to take off the last of the blonde’s clothing. 

Paige met Azzi’s eyes, her own pleading and glassy, and nodded her head, “Please,” she breathed.

With that, Azzi wasted no time, quickly tugging the offending article away from Paige’s legs, discarding it in the same way she did with her hoodie and sports bra. Pants now off, Paige was left in just a pair of light blue boxers, which had a very visible wet patch growing at their center.

“God, you’re soaked already, baby, and I haven’t even touched you yet,” Azzi purred, breath ghosting over the damp fabric.

Paige shivered, “Azzi, please, I need you,” she whined.

“What did you want, pretty? My fingers? My mouth? Use your words.”

“F–fingers. I want your fingers,” Paige stuttered out. 

“Okay,” Azzi said softly, running her fingers up over the dark patch of Paige’s underwear to the waistband. Paige squirmed, hissing out a breath. Then, Azzi hooked her fingers under the elastic, pulling them down, leaving Paige fully exposed. 

Now having Paige completely bare, Azzi moved back upward to make eye contact with the older girl, holding herself above her with her left arm as her right reached down. With one finger, she dragged through Paige’s folds, collecting warm slick on her finger. 

A small gasp slipped from Paige’s lips, closing her eyes, she tipped her head back.

Just then, Azzi’s hand came up from Paige’s core to her chin, tugging her head back, “I want you to look at me. Don’t close your eyes.”

Azzi dragged her hand back down to Paige’s center, doing as she had before. Collecting more of Paige’s arousal on her finger, dragging upward to coat Paige’e clit. Her finger stayed there for a beat, pressing down on the bud, moving it in firm, tight circles. Paige gasped, gripping the sheets, as she struggled to keep eye contact with Azzi. 

Slowly—tantalizingly so—Azzi’s finger moved to Paige’s entrance, resting there, moving a millimeter at a time before Azzi finally pushed the digit into Paige without much resistance. At first, Azzi didn't pull her finger out any, she just curled the very tip of it into Paige’s sweet spot repeatedly, until she felt Paige’s breath pick up, that’s when she started to thrust her finger in and out of the older girl, still curling her finger to hit the spongy spot inside the blonde.

“Ah—fuck! Az, I—need more,” Paige choked out frustratedly. And wordlessly, Azzi added another finger, picking up her pace, as she leaned down to capture Paige’s lips in a kiss, tongue pushing into her mouth. 

As Azzi continued her precise movements, Paige’s excess slick started to pool at the base of Azzi’s fingers, dripping down into her palm. Adjusting the position of her arm, Azzi pushed the heel of her palm into Paige’s clit. Paige ground down in response, a noise—something resembling a moan—only more guttural escaped from her throat. 

“You like that, don’t you?” Azzi hummed.

“Fuck, Az. Don’t stop—I’m close,” Paige replied, as both hands clutched a fistful of sheet. 

Azzi could feel Paige’s walls tightening as she neared the edge, and with one firm, well-timed thrust, Paige tipped over it. Thighs clamping around Azzi’s hand, mouth open, moan lost on her lips. Azzi fingered her through it until Paige pushed her hand away, “Shit, too much, too much Az,” 

Azzi pulled her fingers out of Paige slowly, “I’m sorry, baby,” she said as she climbed off the bed, grabbing the strap she’d set aside earlier. “You think you got one more for me?”

Paige let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, if you give me a minute.”

After peeling off all her clothes, leaving her clad in just a black Nike sports bra, Azzi began to put on the strap. She had seen and or helped Paige put it on enough times for her to have little trouble adjusting the harness to her hips. Coming to straddle Paige again, Azzi brought her still-wet fingers to the other girl’s mouth, “Open,” Azzi said. Paige hesitated but obliged, taking the fingers into her mouth sucking her own juices off her girlfriend’s fingers. Azzi removed her fingers from Paige’s mouth, bringing them down to glide along the length of the toy, effectively lubricating it. “You ready now?” Azzi asked the older girl. Paige nodded.

Azzi repositioned herself on top of Paige, she gripped the base of the toy with her dominant hand, the other coming to spread Paige’s wet folds as she dragged the tip of the toy through them.

Azzi placed a kiss on Paige’s lips before she lined herself up with Paige’s center, slowly pushing the strap into her. As Azzi’s bottomed out, Paige let out a low groan. What surprised Azzi, however, was that as she pushed the toy in, she could feel the base of it pressing against her. Before, she’d always thought Paige was being dramatic when she’d say things like ‘You feel so good.’ Now, she understood what Paige had meant, but alas, she kept a poker face. 

Hovering above Paige, Azzi began to move. She started with slow, tender thrusts, getting used to the feeling of controlling the toy with her hips. As she became more confident, she picked up her pace just slightly. Azzi moved closer to Paige, dropping down onto her forearms, Paige’s head bracketed by Azzi’s biceps. 

Azzi continued at her pace, listening to the sounds she was able to force out of her girlfriend when it happened. A particularly firm thrust that sent the base of the strap into Azzi’s core harder than she’d anticipated, her rhythm faltered. She sucked in a sharp breath, quickly trying to return to the original tempo she’d set. 

But it was too late, Paige had noticed and was arpearently, not fucked out enough to speak up about it, “You can feel it can’t you?” she whispered into Azzi’s ear. “It’s okay if you don’t last much longer, that’s typical for a first timer.” 

And apparently Paige’s comment had flipped a switch in Azzi’s brain, because all of a sudden, she pulled out, climbing off Paige and off the bed.

“Ah—what the–”

“Stand up,” Azzi said firmly.

“Why?” Paige questioned.

“I said, stand up.”

Paige followed without any further questions, stood up off the bed to face Azzi. Then, with concerning ease, Azzi grabbed Paige’s hips, spun her around, and pushed her upper half onto the bed. Still gripping Paige’s hips, Azzi leaned down to her ear and whispered, “I think you must’ve forgotten who’s in control here. You’re gonna listen to me until we’re done. ‘Kay?” 

With the side of her face, the better part of her upper half pressed into the mattress, hips in the air, Paige nodded frantically. 

“Great,” Azzi said pointedly. Lining herself back up with Paige’s core. This time, she didn’t stall; instead, she snapped her hips forward, sending the length of the toy into Paige, quickly finding a faster rhythm than before.

“Agh—fuck!” Paige yelled as the strap was thrust into her harder than she anticipated.

The sounds now filling the room were obscene, skin slapping, mixed with the sound of Paige’s slick center and both girls’ moans. Azzi, by some miracle, was able to keep her pace. And as Paige’s legs began to shake, she felt herself reaching her own climax. It didn’t take long before her rhythm became sloppier. She bent down to litter kisses across the back of Paige’s neck, while her hand reached around to circle Paige’s clit. With that, Paige let out a sound that indicated she’d abandoned any attempt to remain quiet for her roommates’ sake. And that sound was what did it, sending both girls tumbling over the edge. Azzi tried her best to keep fucking Paige through her orgasm, until—right as she thought Paige was coming down from her high and she could slow down, she felt a gush of warm liquid coat her thighs and the pair froze.

Pushing herself back to standing, Azzi looked down to see droplets running down Paige’s thighs. “Oh. My. God. Did you just—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paige replied, muffled, face buried in the bedding wishing it would just swallow her whole.

Azzi takes it as her cue to undo the strap, letting it drop to the floor to deal with later as she makes her way to the bathroom to get a warm wash cloth. 

When she returned, she found Paige lying on the bed, face covered by her hands. Azzi climbs onto the bed with her, removing Paige’s hands, covering her face with kisses instead. Azzi then moved down to wipe between Paige’s legs with the cloth, doing the same for herself after. She sets the cloth aside, moving to tuck both of them in under the covers. Paige snuggled into Azzi’s side, head buried in the crook of Azzi’s neck. “Just so you know, that was like the hottest thing ever. I might have to try and get you to squirt every time we have sex now,” Azzi teased. 

Paige turned her head, looked up at Azzi, her eyes glassy, looking quite frankly destroyed . Before turning her head back into Azzi’s neck and muttering, “Die.”

Azzi just laughed, about to join Paige in sleep, when she heard Paige’s phone buzz. She reached over to grab it, checking who the message was from. It was Jana, the message read:

Jana: you guys are nasty fucking freaks. i hate living here

Opening the camera, Azzi snapped a photo, her tongue out to the camera, Paige still nuzzled in her neck. She sends it with the message: guess who won the bet?

[kkoga]

Unseen set up lara raj x fem!reader

From this ask!

Warning ! Foul words

Disclaimer ! Everything written here is pure fiction. Every person is not a real portrayal of themselves.

Now playing ! What do you mean by Justin Bieber

WC — 1.77K

Synopsis ! It was a normal day, getting ready for your stream, practicing before playing a match. It was all very normal. Until Lara walks in— and fails to notice you were live.

You flash your million dollar smile at the camera next to your computer, confidently waving your hands at it.

“Hey guys! Sorry I’m a bit late, shit gets real when you sleep at 2 am. Anyway, I’ll be playing some Valorant today, so let’s get warmed up before we start!”

You watched as hundreds of different comments flashed by each second, squinting your eyes as you tried your best to read them. You were eternally thankful for the five second delay you decided to put on a couple weeks ago.

its fine girl js hop on get ur ahh back to ascendant!!!

LOL did u stay up late reading fanfics or smth

guys what if shes actually batman and had to save us all….

“Pfft— guys I’m not fucking batman. And yeah yeah I’ll get my ass back to ascendant don’t you worry… It was js Harry dragging me down by having me carry his six and fifteen KDA.” You mumble the last part, rolling your eyes sarcastically. Your chat was going crazy, calling you out for being late in a joking manner.

“Okay guys you’re all frying me for being late, I get it! Gosh let me live ya’ll. I’m gonna start the warmup okay?”

You confidently spent the next four minutes in the practice range, getting headshots left and right as time passed. You then looked to your bottom left, reading your chat as you continued to shoot.

get on the game u little baka,,,,,

GET OUT OF THE DAMN RANGE OMG WE GET IT UR GOOD STOP SMIRKING YOU FOOL

sigh why she smirking like shes abt to ask for my number….?

You groaned at the comments. Your fans, the “hidits” they called themselves. Apparently, they took it from an early stream of yours when you screamed “ITHIDITSELF?! IT CAN HIDE ITSELF?! IT’S A FUCKING ROBOT AI MONSTER WHATEVER MABOB FUCK YOU MEAN IT CAN STUDY ME AND JUST DISAPPEAR BASED ON MY BEHAVIOUR?!?”

Your early fans found it funny and called themselves “hidits”. In your opinion, it is the most horrendous fandom name you have ever heard, but your fans said fuck you and kept it as their official name (they also found it ugly—but the idiots kept it just to spite you). It has been like that ever since.

“Okay fine I’m getting out the range you goddamn hidits—still don’t like your name by the way—and no I’m playing alone this time. Don’t need another Harry on my fucking back.”

You could imagine Harry quoting the clip later, asking why he deserved such hate, calling you a dirty fat hater. You knew the stupid guy too well, it would honestly surprise you if he didn’t.

As you wait for the match to start, you hear your door swing open. You furrow your eyebrows as you gently take your headset off and face your door. 

There stood, in all her glory, Lara Raj. As in the Lara Raj from KATSEYE— the same Lara who you just realized, could be seen by your camera. Lara—looking down onto her phone and paying no attention to you or your set up—speaks before you could warn her about you two being live, to thousands of people.

“Baby?” It was over.

“Sorry are you gaming right now? Just wanted to ask if you wanted to watch a movie. This new netflix one came out and—” Lara’s eyes widened as she saw your camera all set up, as you sat there with a shocked face and an open mouth.

 Oh you both fucked up.

LARA JUST CALLED YN BABY AM I FUCKING HALLUCINATING?!?!

IS THIS FUCKING REAL NO WAY

OHHH YN BAGGED A BADDIE IM SO PROUD

LARA AND YN??? MY TWO FAV THINGS TOGETHER!!!

OH THIS IS MONUMENTAL FOR US HIDITS AND YN HERSELF

Before you could think of some crazy stupid cover-up, Lara sighs as she walks closer to you. You looked around the room, confused as to why she was moving closer.

The Indian grabs your cheeks, and forces you to face the camera. You stared as the chat started moving even faster— if that was even possible. Was the five second delay not enough? But to be fair, with a moment like this, you kind of expected all your fans— including the eyekons, to start tuning in.

“See this?” You sat still, confused, but still let her do her thing anyway. You just hoped she knew what she was doing.

see what?? 

whuts goin on guyz…

whats abt to happen im scared 

Lara then made you face her, as she pampered your face with kisses—kisses everywhere except your lips. After a whole minute of this shenanigans, Lara stops and faces the camera once more— leaving dozens of lipstick marks on your face.

“Yeah, that’s mine.” Lara says, emphasizing on the word “mine”. Your jaw dropped, mouth wide open, unaware on how to react. Usually you’d pounce on her the moment she pounced on you but you couldn’t exactly do that with— wait, A HUNDRED THOUSAND PEOPLE WATCHING?!

Your fans went feral, your viewer count rising by the millisecond. You froze, not knowing what to do. You just prayed you weren’t as red as you felt. This was embarrassing enough as is, you didn’t need hundreds of people making a meme out of you.

OMG SHES FUCKING BLUSHING THEY R SO COUPKLE GOALS

JHASGDASDGHAHSD DONT PLAYYY THIS WAS SO RANDOM BUT SO…. NEEDED?!?!?!

COUPLE OF THE YEAR U GUYS

oh to have a woman like lara….

i came here for valorant not to feel SINGLE you guys.

“I u—uhm.. Are you… sure?” You dumbfoundedly stared at your girlfriend as she let out a chuckle.

“Well I wouldn’t do that if I wasn’t now would I? Anyway, be done by 5pm. We’re watching a movie.”

And with that—Lara quickly left the room, leaving you with the aftermath.

EXPLAIN YN LN

HEY HEY HEY U LITTLE BAKA WHAT DOES THIS MEAN BRUH

u looked fucking stupid lol blushing like an idiot as a baddie pampers you with kisses

oh she bottoms alright…

maybe valorant was the friends we made along the way

really bro? freezing like that infront of the huzz?? u disappoint me….

do you guys have room for a third….

 You quickly snapped out of your little love daze, remembering you had to take control of the situation.

“Alright guys, let’s chill out okay? And yes we’re… dating.” You fucking hated yourself. You were telling about two hundred thousand people about how you and Lara were dating, blushing like a goddamn kid in the process.

You thought about it for a moment, and decided maybe you didn’t have to stream today.

“Okay, I know I just got on but… duty calls…?” Your chat was then split into two different categories—those who agreed and the rage baiters who told you to stay.

CMON GIRL NOT A SINGLE GAME IN SIGHT??? 

DUTY CALLS LET THE GIRL GO

its js a movie girl play like one game and hop off

she CANNOT fumble this guys dont do her like ts

GIRL JS FUCKING GO DO A DAMN STREAM NEXT TIME U GOT A BADDIE WAITING FOR U

You giggled,

“Guys c’mon, you want me to keep the girl waiting?”

YES

NUH UH IM NOT WITH THESE LOSERS GO GET YO GIRL

IF UR GOING THEN PLS POST SOME PICS

U HAVENT STREAMED SINCE LAST WEEK AND UR A FUCKING STREAMER MAN DONT BREAK MY HEART LIKE TS

You entertained them for a few more minutes before you decided it was time to hop off. You didn’t like to keep Lara waiting, and you knew she wasn’t usually the patient type.

“Alright guys, seriously, I need to go okay? I promise I’ll stream soon.” You made a cross sign on your heart as you continued,

“Cross my heart, okay?” Your chat began to say goodbye, as you closed your camera. You sighed as you shut everything off— tidying up your setup even though you haven’t even played yet.

I mean c’mon, it was either you play games alone on stream or you spend quality time with your girlfriend.  It was practically a no brainer.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to fix your appearance before going. After successfully assessing yourself, you carefully made your way to the living room.

The faint hum of your fan could be heard a few feet away, as random tiktok audios played on what you assumed to be Lara’s phone. The sound grew louder as you inched towards her— until she was finally visible.

Lara was on the couch—giggling to a tiktok—looking like she fell from heaven. 

Her hair was loose, looking like they were exclusively styled to fall that way. And her bare face? God she looked so damn cute. Or hot— you couldn’t exactly distinguish between the two right now. 

You snuck next to her, sliding your arm across her waist.

“Hi baby.” Lara leaned her body towards you, a gentle loving smile on her face. You instinctively snuggled into each other, the feeling so natural.

So familiar.

“Hi.”

You breathed into her perfume— strawberries with a hint of mint. The smell you could recognize from anywhere. You personally disliked the scent of strawberries, but you grew to love it. Strawberries reminded you of Lara— they were as sweet as her words. As sweet as her actions. And the hint of mint that always lingered around you two came from your air freshener. 

It reminded you of home. It reminded you of her— it reminded you of who your home was.

“So… you just decided to go public huh?” You say as casually as you can, opening up with a soft tone. A soft giggle left her lips,

“Yeah, I mean why not? We got caught anyway, might as well own up to it.” 

“Yeah….you’re right. I was just caught off guard.” The hesitation in your voice made Lara waver, worry now spread across her face.

“Did it bother you? I’m so sorry baby I didn’t think you’d mind—” 

“Hey hey it’s okay, don’t worry. I don’t care I was genuinely just caught off guard okay? Don’t apologize. Although I would’ve appreciated a heads up, I’m not exactly bothered. Just…. Embarrassed you had me geeking in front of my fans.” The slight shift in tone lightened the mood, as Lara responded with a kiss to your cheek.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I have nothing to be ashamed of, no reason to hide. I would never be ashamed of you, okay?” Lara sighs, as relief floods her senses. 

“I love you.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

“Love you too.”

[hamilando]

Could you do a Lando x reader SMAU where he has been soft-launching a relationship for months, and one day when a normal photo is uploaded on Instagram, the fans see that he's not wearing his "regular" watch. Still, the watch he's wearing looks like the one his friend regularly wears daily, and that's how their relationship gets discovered.

I'm sorry if this is confusing, but I hope you'll be able to make this. love all of your work. <3<3<3

ੈ✩ black watch (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : lando norris x reader

tw : fluff

fc : Laufey

a/n : I hope the person who requested this likes it ! I don’t know if the plot was according to your liking but I tried my best!! Hope you like it !

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

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laufeyn obsessed with 🕰️

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lando that’s why you are broke.

lando I am not paying for your matcha anymore

laufeyn I guess your mum needs the Ibiza trip deets

lando how many match do you want ?

user1 I LOVE HOW LANDO IS THE FIRST ONE TO COMMENT

user2 are we sure they are just besties?

user3 pfft, waiting for the engagement

user4 paragraph guy ?

user5 no paragraph guy, just look at their posts and comments

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 256,376 others

mclaren back for the season 💪🏻

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user1 I have never seen lando without a watch -

user2 atp, he even bathes with one -

user3 he just casually roams around with half a million on his wrist

user4 landoscar are soo cute

user5 we want 2025 to be papaya year as well

user6 ugh, lando wdc

user7 Y/N WE NEED MORE LANDO BITS

user8 I swear yn and lily are so cute together

user9 yn yaps while lily listens

user10 poor lily has no option

liked by lando, user1, user2 and 54,276 others

laufeyn do you even read ?

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user1 HERE BEFORE LANDO

lando no. I was liking

user2 oh god, lando really is jobless

user3 why is he chronically active 24*7

user4 I swear McLaren needs to get lando a social media manager

user5 HE IS STILL WEARING THE WATCH !?

user6 how does he manage to show his watch in every single picture

oscarpiastri kindly tell him to not eat the donuts, he has a race in 2 weeks

Laufeyn dw, he is only here for the wallet purpose

liked by user1, user2 and 732,387 others

lando these two are going to empty my wallet

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laufeyn I have bestie rights

carlossainz I have ex teammate right

lando MATE YOU HAVE ALEX !

carlossainz I have being your husband right

lando MATE YOU HAVE REBECCA !

lando DO YOU EVEN KNOW MATCHA COSTS LIKE 40 POUNDS !?

charlesleclerc you straight up got scammed, Alex drinks it, it’s at most 15 pounds

lando @ laufeyn

laufeyn I NEEDED BOOKS!

lando WHY MY WALLET ! YOU EARN MONEY! YOU LITTLE ROTTEN GREEN SAUSAGE !

maxverstappen1 that’s the most British thing I have heard

georgerussell can confirm, that’s not British, it’s lando

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liked by user1,user2 and 1,563,583 others

f1gossipofficial it was noticed by some lando fans that he has not been wearing his infamous black Richard Mille watch but rather a watch which was earlier posted by his close friend, @ laufeyn. Could there by any dating rumours ?

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user1 THE SHIP SAILEEEDDDDD

user2 AHHHHHH

user3 I KNEW IT LIKE YEARS AGO !

user4 I wear like lando ditched his luck charm, for another luck charm

user5 “I would like to win a race for yn”

user6 FRIENDS TO LOVER, THE BEST TROPE

user7 JUST CONFIRM ALREADY !

user8 lando buying books 🤭

user9 atp, lando buys yn everything

user10 girlfriend privileges 😩

liked by laufeyn, user1 and 2,486,537 others

lando what watch? I can’t stop looking at her 😌

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let me know if you want to be added or removed to the tg!

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[little-cereal-draws]

These three because I love this ship so much

*Penelope and Diomedes flirting with each other yet again* Odysseus: And you two are sure you're not dating? Penelope: 100%. Diomedes: Of course not! Why would you think that? Odysseus: I wonder why that possibility would even cross my mind, Diomedes. I fucking wonder.

-

Diomedes: Two years ago, I married my best friend. Diomedes: Penelope is still mad about it, but me and Odysseus were drunk and thought it was funny. -

Odysseus: Hey, babe, remember how I had to go to the pharmacy to pick up my ADHD meds? Penelope: Yes? Odysseus: Well, it turns out they're all out for the next five days. Penelope: Fuck. Odysseus: It's gonna be a fun week! Penelope: I'm going to Diomedes's house. Odysseus: Nuh-uh. Through sickness and health, motherfucker. -

Penelope: Having two partners is both amazing and complicated. But all our problems are solved with communication. Diomedes: It’s my turn to cuddle Odysseus. Penelope: FIVE MORE MINUTES DAMMIT! -

Diomedes: H-how do you ask someone out? Odysseus: Well, first- Penelope: Don't ask him, he asked me out in a McDonalds parking lot. Diomedes: ...And you said yes? -

*Odysseus is telling a story* Penelope: Wow, Odysseus, this story has everything! Action! Adventure! Romance! Diomedes: Romance? Penelope: I'm in love with him. -

Penelope, holding a rock: Diomedes just gave this to me and said "I feel like you deserve the moon but all I can give you is a rock". Odysseus: If you don't marry him, I will. -

Diomedes: It's pretty cold outside... wanna hold hands? We should stay close. Odysseus, blushing: Okay. Penelope: It's fucking summer. -

Odysseus: If I say I love you, will you say it back? Diomedes: Yes. Odysseus: I love you. Diomedes: It back. *Later* Penelope: Why is Odysseus crying face-down on the floor? -

Penelope: Ooh, somebody has a crush Odysseus: Pfft, I don’t have a crush on Diomedes. I just think he's cool, it’s not like I stay up at night thinking about him. *Later that night* Odysseus, very much awake: Uh oh. -

Penelope: Did Diomedes just tell me he loved me for the first time? Odysseus: Yeah, he did. Penelope: And did I just do finger guns back? Odysseus: Yeah, you did. -

Penelope: You don't need my blessing to go kiss Diomedes. In fact, I was pretty sure you were already kissing Diomedes! Odysseus: Nope. Penelope: In that case, as the archbishop of Odysseus's fully awakened gaydom, I give you my blessing to immediately leave and rectify that as soon as possible! Go now, my child, and kiss Diomedes right on the lips!!! -

Odysseus: Thank you all for coming. Penelope, wearing a hospital gown: When I heard you couldn't get laid, I dropped everything and came straight here. Odysseus: Well, I couldn't imagine anyone else being part of the "Fuck Odysseus Task Force". Diomedes: Yeah, I interpreted that in a different way. -

Odysseus: *looking through his closet* Has anyone seen my top? Diomedes: Penelope’s in the kitchen. -

Diomedes: *sucking on a popsicle* Penelope: Pfft, you practicing for when Odysseus gets here? Diomedes: *takes a huge ass bite out of the popsicle* Penelope: *Concern* -

Diomedes: *is wearing silk pants* How does this look? Odysseus: Like its slips on and off really easily. Diomedes: Odysseus: No, I didn't mean it like that- Penelope: We know what you meant. -

Penelope: Can you please just apologize to Diomedes? Odysseus: Fine, but I have to warn you that this may make me a nicer, better person and that is not who you feel in love with. -

Diomedes: Hi, sorry I’m late. I was doing a couple of things and got distracted. Odysseus: I’m “a couple of things”. Penelope: I’m “got distracted”. *Penelope and Odysseus high five* -

Penelope: That shirt looks great, Odysseus. Odysseus: Thanks. Penelope: But I bet it would look even better on Diomedes's floor. Diomedes: Are you hitting on Odysseus... for me? -

Diomedes: Hey, Odysseus? Can I get some dating advice? Odysseus: Just because I'm with Penelope doesn't mean I know how I did it.

[starrysan]

killin it

masterlist

pairing: biker!wooyoung x baker! fem!reader

warnings/prerequisites: enemies to lovers, swearing, yn almost gets killed by wooyoung's bike??, yeosang, mingi, and jun cameo, not proofread 😓

a/n: this idea came to me after consistently almost getting hit by bikes that don't obey any traffic laws..! title is a p1harmony ref

[2.3k words]

3rd person pov

after a long shift at her horribly paying bakery job, y/n was waiting at the crosswalk for the light to change, a batch of cupcakes in hand. as it changes to the walk signal she starts to walk she had just gotten yelled at by her boss and was already having a bad day when she hears a motorcycle revving up and quickly turns to the side.

before she knew it a bike was about to hit her. "holy shit!" she exclaims as the bike comes to a stop. "watch where you're going" the mystery person says behind his helmet.

"watch where im going?! watch where you're going!" y/n yells back. the cyclist takes his helmet off to reveal the guy she had been arguing with. "if you were paying attention this wouldn't have happened" wooyoung tries passing the blame which of course failed miserably.

"me? can you not see its a red light for you?" y/n practically yells. "pfft who looks at those anyway?" wooyoung chuckles. "you're unbelievable." y/n says angrily crossing the street and continuing on with her day.

she walks into her apartment frustrated on the phone with her best friend yeosang. "he almost fucking hit me then tried to blame me" she groans into the phone. a faint 'that's horrible' from yeosang comes through the phone as she goes to press the elevator button and who was waiting for it as well. "..sangie let me call you back" she says, hanging up the phone before yeosang could say goodbye. "talking about me so soon?" wooyoung says almost cockily.

why does he live here? since when does he live here? y/n thought to herself but wooyoung breaks her out of her thoughts first. "what? you've really never seen me around?" wooyoung rolls his eyes. "no?" y/n scoffs. "why would I want to know that a killer lives in our building?" she replies. "a killer?" wooyoung looks at her dumbfounded. "my bike didn't even touch you"

"yeah because I yelled at you" y/n says exasperated. "yeah well-" wooyoung starts. "can you two argue some place else?" jun, the building's doorman asks a bit annoyed. "sorry jun" the two say in unison. they get into the elevator standing in opposite corners. y/n goes to press her floor, wooyoung going at the same time and their hands graze each other as the two practically jump backwards.

y/n presses the 10th floor as wooyoung presses the eleventh. "great you live right above me" y/n sighs, getting off the elevator. she quickly walks to her apartment not wanting to engage with him anymore.

it was a quarter past midnight and y/n was trying out a new recipe when all she could hear was this loud banging and music from upstairs. she groans throwing her apron on the couch and heading upstairs as she pounds on the door. her upstairs neighbor mingi opens the door.

"mingi can you keep it down? its late and I can hear you through the walls" y/n asks softly. "oh shoot sorry y/n" mingi says genuinely apologetically, the two having known each other for a while just through being floor neighbors.

"thanks" she says, as she's about to walk away, she spots a familiar face in the crowd. "mingi how do you know that guy?" y/n asks right before mingi closed his door. "oh him? he's my new roommate he just moved in last week name's wooyoung." mingi replies before telling someone to lower the music. "ah" was all y/n said before wooyoung spots her and comes to the door.

"oh perfect, y/n this is-" mingi starts. "don't worry mingi.. we've met" y/n sighs. "y/n? nice to put a name to the face" wooyoung says. "yeah I think this is my cue to leave. goodnight mingi" y/n waves heading to the elevator.

"what about me?" wooyoung questions. "why would I say goodbye to a killer?" y/n asks not even turning to face wooyoung. "I didn't-" before wooyoung could say anything y/n enters the elevator closing the door behind her.

"what was that about?" mingi asked, closing his apartment door and heading back inside to the ruckus (as y/n called it) he called a party. "this morning I might've.. almost hit her with my bike?" wooyoung confesses.

"and you apologized right?" mingi questions but asks again from the lack of response from wooyoung. "..right woo..?" he asks. "okay so what if I said no.." in a matter of seconds mingi sent wooyoung down to y/n's door because according to him "it was easier to apologize than have y/n as your enemy"

he knocks quietly on the door hoping she'd be asleep and as he started to walk away the door swings open to reveal a man who was certainly not y/n. "can I help you?" the man asks. "..is y/n home" he asks almost nervously. "y/n!" he calls from inside the apartment. "some guys here to see you" he says stepping a bit to the side. "come in? I guess?"

"who is it sangie.. oh" y/n stops dead in her tracks. "what?" she sighs. she had an apron on with cats all over it, flour on her face and getting in her hair. "uh.. mingi told me to come apologize so-" he gets cut off. "mingi told you to apologize? so you're not actually here to apologize you're just here because your roommate told you to" she raises an eyebrow.

"I mean when you put it that way-" before he knew it he was standing outside as y/n shut the door on his face. "so much for that" he says before walking back upstairs. "how'd it go?" mingi asked, the party over now as he picked up plastic cups from the floor. "she slammed the door in my face" wooyoung sighed.

"yeesh yeah she's tough to get through but once you do she's really sweet." mingi says, getting a bag of garbage together. "are you sure that's not just her nice twin that you talked to or something?" wooyoung sighs. "does she bake? I saw her wearing an apron."

"yeah she works at the bakery down the street" mingi replies finishing up the last of the clean up. "what am I supposed to do?" wooyoung asks. "to get y/n to like you?" to which wooyoung nods. "get lucky?" mingi says honestly. "how'd you get her to like you? you cant be her favorite with these loud parties."

"oh I bribed her." mingi says nonchalantly. "did you see the baby blue kitchen aid mixer in her room? I bought that for her for Christmas. I know my parties are loud and I know she likes baking and that her job dosent pay well so I got her the mixer and now she's chill about the parties." mingi continues. "after that we would say hi to each other in the halls and now we're friends. she comes over to coffee every once and a while and she brings me dessert" mingi nods with a smile. "I see.." wooyoung says finally.

the next day wooyoung was hard at work in the kitchen there were boxes of cake mix on the counter as well as all the mixing bowls they owned. he worked hard trying to make the best cake to win y/n's forgiveness. he finished the cake off by adding pink icing and using the piping bag to write 'sorry' sloppily on the cake.

the next evening he heads to y/n's apartment knocking on her door. y/n on the other end looks through the peephole. "yes?" she says through the door. "i.. bear cake?" wooyoung says, to which y/n bursts out laughing and opens the door. "sorry.. for almost killing you? then being an asshole about it after" wooyoung says holding out the cake.

"I accept your apology.. wanna come in?" y/n offers, opening the door. wooyoung steps inside taking his shoes off and hanging y/n the cake. the two sit at the table and eat the cake. "cake is great your decorating could use some work" y/n hums, a fork in hand.

"I tried my best with what I had" wooyoung sulks. "mingi dosent have a kitchen aid like the one he got you he just has a whisk I whisked this whole thing by hand" he continues with a frown. "then I guess its alright" y/n giggles.

the two talk till it gets to dinner time. "want to stay? yeosang is bringing Chinese food I can ask him to get more. invite mingi too" y/n hums scrolling on her phone. "I don't want to intrude" wooyoung says. "you're not intruding we're neighbors aren't we?" y/n smiles.

yeosang arrives with the food, mingi arriving short after and the four eat together. "so you two made up?" yeosang asks, eating his orange chicken to which y/n nods her mouth full of noodles. "he apologized with a cake" y/n points to the cake left sitting on the table. "I see" yeosang laughs in response.

after a while mingi and wooyoung go back to their room. "so.. are yeosang and y/n dating? what's up with them" wooyoung asks for no reason (lies). "them? not that im aware of they're friends" mingi replies. "why?" mingi asks with a brow raised. "just curious" wooyoung hums. "alright.." mingi says suspiciously.

after a while, wooyoung and y/n had gotten closer. the four would have dinner together when they could, y/n brings over desserts when there was extra at the bakery. "if the bakery pays so bad why do you still work there?" wooyoung asked as the four had sat down to have their monthly movie night.

"it pays shit but it pays" y/n replies grabbing the bag of popcorn from the microwave and pouring it into a bowl. "then what do you want to do?" wooyoung questions. y/n thinks for a bit. "I want to open my own bakery" she says finally. "y/n's sweets? that's probably what I'd call it" she nods. "why don't you?" wooyoung asks "with what money? my $12 an hour?" wooyoung hums and looks like he's thinking as yeosang starts the movie.

wooyoung, y/n, and yeosang were hanging out in y/n and yeosang's place while mingi was at work when y/n excused herself to the bathroom. "you like her don't you?" yeosang asks as the bathroom door clicks shut. "what're you talking about" wooyoung says not at all convincing. "we all know" yeosang hums snacking on the cupcakes y/n had made.

"maybe I do.. but I doubt she likes me bac-" yeosang interrupts him. "you two are so dense. its like we all know but you two. she talks about you all the time I was starting to get sick of it if im being honest" yeosang sighs. "really?" wooyoung asks in disbelief. "even the first day you guys met she was talking about how hot you were." yeosang says thinking about the phone call they had.

flashback to a month ago: "he's so hot its a shame he almost fucking hit me then tried to blame me" y/n groans into the phone. a faint 'that's horrible' from yeosang comes through the phone.

"she said that?" wooyoung says in almost shock. "yes" yeosang says exasperated as the bathroom door swings open and the two immediately shut up. "why're you two acting suspicious?" y/n says. "no we're not" the two say in sync y/n decides to let it go.

wooyoung and y/n were alone now, yeosang "having some fashion emergency and leaving the apartment". "so what were you two talking about?" y/n asks slightly cuddling into wooyoung's arm. "nothi-" y/n sighs loudly. "I know it wasn't nothing" y/n argues. "if I tell you, you have to promise not to make fun of me" wooyoung says. "why would I-"

"I like you y/n" wooyoung blurts out. "you.. wait really?" she says in surprise. "yeosang was just telling me that he knows and mingi knows" as he finishes his sentence y/n leans over to him pressing her lips onto wooyoungs as he gasps. "shit sorry" y/n says pulling back quickly, but before she could get too far, wooyoung pulls her back into another kiss. "thank god" y/n mutters into the kiss. "for what?" wooyoung hums. "that you also like me back duh" y/n sasses which gets a laugh out of wooyoung.

some time later wooyoung was leading y/n to.. somewhere. y/n didn't know she had a blindfold on. "woo are we there yet?" y/n says impatiently. "almosttt" wooyoung smiles. "okay ready?" wooyoung says taking y/n's blindfold off. "open your eyes!" as y/n blinks her eyes open she witnesses what wooyoung had been tirelessly working on for the past couple months. it was a building decorated with the prettiest things. the sign read 'y/n's sweets' y/n gasps.

"you didn't.." she says in disbelief. "I did" wooyoung smiles. "you're unbelievable how'd you pull this off?" y/n says still in awe at the building infront of her. "I think I might die of shock" y/n says. "don't die who will I kiss if you do?" y/n rolls her eyes, pecking him on the lips as he hands her the keys. "shall we head inside?" wooyoung asks to which y/n nods.

"help me bake?" y/n asks as she starts up the ovens. "am I getting promoted to baker" wooyoung grins. "as long as you learn how to ice cake properly then yes" y/n giggles. wooyoung starts icing the cake. "how am I doing.."

"you're killin it" y/n replies kissing his cheek.

tysm for reading! if you have any requests pls send them my way!!

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[animamii]

Junior year rolls around and ohh has highschoolsweetheart!Eren changed.

You hear him before you see him—his voice cutting through the morning hum of students catching up after the summer break. It’s familiar, unmistakable, and yet, when you turn around, your breath catches in your throat.

Oh.

This was not the Eren Yeager you left behind in sophomore year.

Gone was the lanky boy who used to trip over his own feet during gym class, the one who wore those wrinkled short-sleeved button-downs with the same rotation of black skinny jeans and scuffed Converse. The Eren standing before you now was… different.

Taller. Broader. The summer had done something to him—his arms, his shoulders, his entire build had filled out in a way that made your brain short-circuit for a moment. His hair, once perpetually messy but in a boyish kind of way, had grown out just enough to curl at the ends. He still had that same wild energy, the same excitement in his eyes as he grinned at you, but there was something undeniably new about him. And he was pretty. Not that he wasn’t always attractive—he was, and you’d never denied it to yourself. But this? This was unfair.

“y/n!!” He reaches you in a few easy strides, completely oblivious to the way your brain is currently buffering. Before you can even react, he’s throwing an arm around your shoulders like it’s nothing, pulling you in for one of those classic Yeager side hugs, all warm and familiar and way too casual for the internal meltdown you’re having.

“Dude, I haven’t seen you all summer!” he exclaims, ruffling your hair in that annoying way he always does, like you’re still kids and he doesn’t look like he walked straight out of a teenage coming-of-age movie. “Why’d you ignore my texts? I was about to file a missing person report.”

You blink. He’s looking at you like he hasn’t changed at all, like he isn’t standing there all tall and golden, like he isn’t suddenly one of the hottest guys in school. And you? You’re still standing there like an idiot, trying to piece together a response.

“I— I was busy,” you manage to say, and it’s only half a lie. You had been busy, but you’d also needed space. Space to sort out the mess of feelings that being best friends with Eren Yeager had turned into over the years.

Eren, being Eren, doesn’t notice your internal crisis. “Pfft, busy. You mean ghosting me?” he teases, nudging your side. “I should’ve just shown up at your house.”

You scoff, regaining some of your composure as you roll your eyes. “Like my mom wouldn’t have loved that. She’s still convinced we’re secretly dating.”

Eren barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he tosses it back. “She’s been saying that since middle school. At this point, I think she’s just manifesting.”

Your heart lurches at his words, but you shove the feeling down. This is Eren. Your best friend. The same guy who used to perform Justin Bieber songs in the middle of the quad for you. He might look different now, but he’s still him. Even if the way people are starting to stare at him—at you two together—is making your stomach twist in a way you’re not quite ready to admit.

The first day of junior year had barely started, and yet, you already felt like you were walking through some alternate reality. Eren was still draped over you, arm slung around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world, completely oblivious to the way people were looking. Correction: the way people were looking at him. It was impossible to ignore. You could hear the whispers as you walked down the hallway together, the way heads turned when he passed.

You roll your eyes, scoffing as you nudge him off you, but the warmth of his arm lingers on your shoulder. “Yeah, well, she’s gonna have to give it up eventually. We’re not dating.” You don't know if you say it to convince yourself that there is no possibility it would become reality.

Eren grins like a bad little kid, his eyes glinting in that Eren Yeager way that usually spells trouble. “Not yet.”

Your heart does this annoying little skip in your chest, but you quickly shove him with more force this time, scowling to hide the smile that forms against your own will. “Shut up.”

He just laughs, dodging your next attack like the menace he is. “Damn, I missed you,” he grins, and there’s something about the way he says it—casual, easy, genuine—that makes your stomach flip. You hate how easily he gets under your skin. How he annoyingly burrowed his way into your heart.

Before you can retaliate, a group of girls passes by, whispering not-so-subtly behind their hands. You recognize some of them—volleyball girls, cheerleaders, a couple of girls from your English class—but they barely spare you a glance. Their eyes are all locked on Eren. And he knows it. The worst part? You know he knows it, too.

One of them, a tall blonde with perfectly curled hair, flashes him a bright smile. “Hey, Eren,” she says, twirling a strand around her finger like it's a damn high school movie. You're usually a girl's girl, but right now you were shooting daggers at her.

Eren, to his credit, doesn’t look phased. He just tilts his head, grinning in that annoying way that makes your blood boil. “Hey.”

That’s it. Hey. And yet, the girl giggles, and you want to die. It’s like some cruel joke. Last year, nobody would have given him a second glance. He was your Eren—goofy, loud, a little dorky, always getting himself into trouble. Now? Now he’s on the varsity football team, his arms are looking a little too good in that fitted black tee, and suddenly he’s the guy every girl is looking at.

You hate it. You don’t even know why you hate it, but you do.

Eren barely acknowledges them, turning back to you like nothing happened. “Anyway,” he says, slinging an arm over your shoulder again like it’s nothing, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing to you. “What class you got first?”

You shake yourself out of whatever weird haze you’re in, clearing your throat. “Uh—math. Mr. Moblit.” Your eyes scan over the salmon pink piece of paper that held your class schedule, and Eren leans in just a little too close to read it.

He groans, dramatically throwing his head back. “Ugh, lucky. I got stuck with Mr. Shadis.”

You snicker. “That sucks.” You can't help but smile when you see the same characteristics from Eren. Even if he did look fine ass hell, oh so different from last year, he still acted the same.

“I know, right?” He sighs, dropping his head onto your shoulder in fake despair. “If I fail, just know it’s because Shadis has it out for me.”

“You fail because you never pay attention,” you remind him. You've had plenty of classes with Eren, with him always sitting next to you. He would be doing anything but pay attention.

“Okay, but, like, who even uses calculus in real life?” Eren squints his eyes, and you can feel every little movement he does as his head rests on your shoulder.

You roll your eyes, shoving him off you for the second time, ignoring the way your skin tingles where his head was resting. “Come on, dummy. We’re gonna be late.”

He groans again but follows after you anyway, falling into step beside you like always. Like nothing’s changed. Except everything has changed. And you’re starting to realize you have no idea what to do about it.

Lunch rolls around, and you find yourself dragging your feet through the cafeteria, still processing the weirdness of the morning. You’re not sure what to make of Eren’s sudden glow-up—or the way your chest does this annoying little flutter every time he looks at you like nothing’s changed. All the effort of trying to get over your little crush on Eren was wiped clean, the boy really had a grip on your heart now.

You end up at your usual lunch table, the one you share with Ymir and Historia, Sasha too but she was going to the culinary club's welcome party because duh, Sasha isn't going to miss out on extra free food. The two of them are already sitting, bickering about something stupid, but the moment you drop into the seat next to them, it’s like they both sense something’s off. They can feel the energy radiating off of you, the look on your face when something is bothering you. Ymir eyes you with a raised brow, and Historia’s gaze flickers to the door, where Eren is walking in, looking effortlessly cool, chatting with Armin as they make their way toward your table.

“Oh, boy,” Ymir mutters under her breath. “You’ve got that look on your face. What’s going on with you and Yeager?”

"How do you know it's something between me and Eren?" You raise an eyebrow, a little frustrated that she knows you so well.

"It's always about Yeager," Ymir and Historia say in unison, giving you that look of obviousness.

You roll your eyes. “It’s nothing. We’re fine.” A deep sigh still escapes your lips as you open the bottle of apple juice your lunch came with.

“Mmmhmm,” Ymir hums skeptically, but she doesn’t push it. Historia, on the other hand, flashes you a concerned smile. Her brows perch up with sympathy.

“You sure? You’ve been acting… different.” Her voice is soft, almost too knowing, but it’s enough to make you squirm.

“Seriously, I’m fine,” you say, the words coming out a little sharper than you intended. But it’s not like they’re wrong. You have been acting weird. And it’s all because of Eren, damn that boy.

Your thoughts are cut short as Eren plops down next to you, his familiar arm slinging around your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Yo! What’s up, guys?” His voice is as loud and cheerful as always, but there’s something in the way his eyes linger on you that makes your stomach twist. Ymir raises an eyebrow, but Eren doesn’t seem to notice. Historia’s gaze flits between you two, but she stays quiet, focusing on her lunch.

“Hey, y/n,” Eren says, his voice a little softer now, and you feel your heart race. “You doing okay?” Your eyes flicker to him, seeing his pretty face in a concerned look as he stares at the side of your internally panicked face. It's enough to make your insides ache, enough to make your heart beat a thousand times faster.

“Yeah, just… tired,” you reply, shrugging it off like it’s no big deal, even though your mind is anything but calm.

“You sure?” His expression softens, and for a second, it’s like the world fades out, leaving just the two of you. His hand, warm against your back, feels like it’s burning right through your shirt. “You don’t look fine.”

You can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks. “I’m fine, really.”

Eren nods but doesn’t look convinced. He leans in a little, lowering his voice so only you can hear, “If you say so. Just know, if you need anything, I’ve got your back, yeah?”

Your heart stutters at his words, the genuine concern in his voice tugging at something deep inside you. But the moment is interrupted by the loud cackle of a voice from across the table.

“You hear that, Historia?” Ymir teases, her grin far too knowing. “Eren’s looking out for y/n. Makes me wonder if you’ve got competition, huh?”

Eren laughs, unbothered, and flicks Ymir’s ear. “Shut up, Ymir. You know it’s just—” He looks at you for a moment, his grin faltering, then shrugs it off. “Just what we do. We're best friends. Nothing weird.”

You feel your heart drop a little, but you brush it off. “Right. Nothing weird.” It's almost as if you're trying to reassure yourself, which, let's be honest, you really were trying to. Trying to convince yourself that it's all in your head.

But the way Eren’s smiling at you, like he knows more than he’s letting on, makes your pulse race. His eyes linger a little too long, and you wonder if he’s trying to figure something out, too. The tension is palpable, thick enough that even Ymir and Historia seem to sense it. They share a glance, but neither of them says anything. Instead, Ymir kicks you under the table—hard enough to make you wince.

“Aye, stop thinking too much,” Ymir's expression says, clearly reading you like an open book. She doesn't even have to say anything for you to understand what she's trying to say “Just enjoy the moment. Eren’s not going anywhere.” And for the first time today, you almost believe her.

The conversation drifts as you try to settle back into the easy rhythm of lunch. But the moment is short lived. The clatter of trays and the loud chatter of students fills the air, and before you can catch your breath, a new wave of noise arrives.

Reiner, with his usual cocky grin, leads the pack of jocks toward your table. His broad frame and confident swagger draw attention the way Eren’s used to, but this time, you can’t help but notice the way the girls at nearby tables watch Reiner too. He’s got that easy, good-looking charm, but there's something about Eren that just hits different, even now, when the jocks are slowly taking over the cafeteria’s social pecking order.

“Yo, Yeager!” Reiner calls, leaning over the back of your seat, making you jump in surprise. “You ditching us for the weirdos?”

Eren’s arm drops from your shoulders as he shifts his attention to Reiner, but not without a small, teasing grin. “If you’re calling them weirdos, I think you’ve got the wrong table, man.”

A few of the other guys laugh, though it’s more because it’s Eren, and he’s got that goofy, unpredictable humor. The girls now huddled around your table all stand up a little straighter, their eyes darting toward Eren, and you feel a sudden, sharp pang of frustration deep in your chest. You try to ignore it, to keep the casual mask in place, but something’s different now. The subtle tension between Eren and you—it’s like it’s palpable to everyone but the two of you.

Reiner, not one to let Eren off easy, takes a seat beside him, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Come on, man, we’ve got practice in an hour. I’m dragging you back, and we’re gonna talk strategy, not... whatever this is.” His eyes flick over to you, and you swear you catch a hint of amusement in them. It’s like he knows something you don’t.

Eren glances back at you, his expression a little unsure, like he’s debating whether to stay or go. For a brief moment, his eyes soften, but then, in typical Eren fashion, he shrugs and grins, looking more at ease than you feel. A part of you hopes he'll choose to stay, just to reassure you that things really didn't change.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go. But only because you’re begging.” He stands up, brushing his hands off as if he’s wiping away the conversation, like he doesn’t even see the way your heart drops when he stands a little too far away from you now.

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but the words get stuck. All that leaves your mouth is a disappointed huff of a breath. Eren turns back toward you, like he’s about to say something, but then his attention shifts to the group of jocks calling him over.

“Later, y/n!” he calls, throwing a casual wave over his shoulder. “Don’t miss me too much, alright?”

You’re left frozen, your hand still halfway raised as you force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace. Reiner slaps Eren’s back in that overly friendly way he always does, and Eren just laughs, falling into step with him as they make their way to the other side of the cafeteria. You hate the way your stomach twists watching them go. It’s like they’re speaking an entirely different language—one you’re not part of. The table around you is quieter now. Historia looks at you, her expression sympathetic, but Ymir—well, she looks way too smug for your liking.

“Wanna talk about it?” Ymir teases, but it’s not unkind.

You sigh, dropping your gaze to your lunch. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Uh huh,” Ymir replies, that knowing smirk still lingering on her lips. “I’m pretty sure Eren’s just trying to keep his cool in front of the jocks. You’ve seen the way he’s been around you lately. He likes you, trust me.”

You frown, not sure how to respond. Eren might be acting like nothing’s changed, but everything has changed. And the worst part? You’re not sure if he even knows it yet.

“Don’t worry,” Historia sympathetically adds, her tone reassuring. “He’ll figure it out eventually. You’ll figure it out.”

You give a noncommittal hum, not sure if you're ready to figure anything out just yet. But as you glance across the room, watching Eren laugh with Reiner and the others, you can't shake the feeling that something’s coming. Something big. Some type of shift. You spend the rest of lunch pushing food around your tray, pretending not to notice the way your eyes keep flickering toward the jock table.

Eren looks good—annoyingly, frustratingly good. He’s leaned back in his chair, laughing at something Jean said, that lazy grin plastered across his face like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. His long fingers drum absentmindedly against the table, and when one of the cheerleaders—Annie’s friend Hitch, you think—leans in to whisper something to him, your stomach twists.

You snap your gaze away, cursing yourself. Why are you even watching? You’re not his girlfriend. You’re his best friend. And best friends do not sit there like jealous exes just because other girls are realizing what you’ve known for years—Eren Yeager is stupidly, effortlessly attractive.

“You’re making it too obvious.” Ymir’s voice is flat and teasing. You don’t even have to look at her to know she’s smirking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, shoving a bite of food into your mouth just to have something to do.

“Mm. Right. And I’m straight.” Ymir leans on her fist, watching you with open amusement. Historia sighs, nudging her in the ribs before giving you a softer look.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Historia offers, “he hasn’t actually looked at her once.”

Your eyes dart up before you can stop yourself, and— Historia’s right. Eren’s nodding along to something Reiner’s saying, but his gaze keeps drifting. He’s scanning the cafeteria, like he’s looking for something. Or someone. And then, just like that, his eyes find yours. For a second, time stutters.

Eren’s lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting to catch you staring, and for a fleeting moment, something flickers across his face. Something unsure. Something vulnerable. But then Reiner nudges him—too hard, probably on purpose—and Eren snaps out of it, laughing as he shoves him back. And just like that, the moment is gone. You exhale sharply, turning away. You hate this. The push and pull, the way he makes you feel like maybe—just maybe—there’s something more, only to act like nothing’s changed the next second. Maybe nothing has changed. Maybe the only thing different is you.

“You should talk to him,” Historia says gently.

You scoff, picking at your food. “And say what? ‘Hey, Eren, just wondering if you’ve realized you’re hot yet and if that means you’re too good for me now?’”

Ymir cackles, hands drumming on the lunch table as she childishly kicks her feet. “I mean, I would pay to see you say that to his face.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “This is a nightmare. It's never been this complicated with Eren before.” It had always been complicated, but not this complicated.

Historia opens her mouth to say something else, but before she can, the cafeteria doors swing open, and the familiar screech of a whistle pierces the air.

“Football team! Practice starts now!” Coach Smith stands at the entrance, arms crossed, his stoic expression already promising death if they don’t get to moving. The jock table groans, but they all start standing, grabbing their trays. Eren stretches as he gets up, his shirt riding up just enough to show a hint of skin, and you swear you hear one of the volleyball girls sigh dreamily. You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts.

Eren turns, catching your expression, and grins. “What’s that look for?”

You school your face into something neutral, a deadpan almost. “Nothing. Just wondering if you’ll survive an entire practice without getting distracted by your fan club.”

He blinks, then laughs—like really laughs, loud and unfiltered. “Pfft, fan club? Yeah, right.”

You open your mouth, ready to argue, but then you stop. Because—he’s serious. He really doesn’t see it. All the stares, the whispers, the way girls—entire groups of them—are looking at him like he hung the damn moon. He doesn’t even notice. Eren’s still just Eren, in his own head. You should be relieved. Maybe you are. But mostly, you just feel confused and overwhelmed.

“Well, try not to get tackled into the ground,” you say instead, grabbing your drink to take a sip.

Eren grins, nudging you lightly as he starts to walk away. “Aw, you worried about me, y/n?”

The drink nearly chokes you, the cooing tone of his voice making you feel uneasy and bashful. “Not even a little.”

He just laughs, throwing one last lazy wave over his shoulder before jogging after Reiner and the rest of the team. And you? You watch him go, stomach twisting, hating the way his absence already feels like a weight pressing down on your chest.

The late afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows over the football field. The team is mid-drill, running play after play under the sharp bark of Coach Smith. Eren is breathless, sweat slicking his skin, but his mind isn’t really in it. Not fully, anyway.

Because you’re sitting on the bleachers, and you’re laughing at something Historia just said, and it’s distracting as hell. His gaze keeps flickering toward the bleachers, toward where you’re sitting with your friends. You look relaxed, leaning back with one knee pulled up. He can’t hear a word from this far, but that doesn’t matter. He knows your expressions by heart—every little eye roll, every laugh, the way your lips purse when you’re pretending to be annoyed but aren’t really.

He’s staring again.

“Yeager! Focus!” The loud shout of Coach Smith jolts him out of his trance, but it’s too late. Whooosh.

Eren barely ducks in time to avoid a pass he wasn’t paying attention to. Jean groans in exasperation, throwing his head back and smacking his hands on his pads. “Dude, wake up! What the hell are you even looking at?”

Eren shakes his head quickly, clearing his throat. “Nothing,” he lies, trying to mask the way his heartbeat kicks up. Grabbing the football that he failed to catch, slackly tossing it back to Jean.

Jean, of course, is already following his gaze, his eyes landing exactly where Eren doesn’t want them to. The smirk that stretches across Jean’s face is almost unbearable. “Right. Nothing.”

Eren scowls, shoving Jean as he jogs past. But before he can settle back into formation, something shifts near the bleachers—movement that immediately snags his attention. Someone’s walking up to you. Eren’s brows furrow as he squints. The guy is tall, lanky, his bright red hair messy in a way that seems purposefully unkempt. He’s wearing a ripped band tee, chains dangling from his jeans, and—oh, great. Floch Forster.

The guy moves with a swagger that makes Eren’s teeth grind. Ripped jeans, faded punk band tee, chains dangling from his belt loops—he looks like he just crawled out of a basement concert. Floch has always been a talker, a surprisingly smooth one at that, and judging by the way he leans in, he’s in full flirt mode. Eren watches, growing tenser by the second. He expects you to roll your eyes, wave him off, something. But you don’t. You tilt your head slightly, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips. Why aren’t you moving away? Eren’s jaw tightens. Then Floch takes another step closer. That’s it.

Eren doesn’t even realize his feet are moving until Jean grabs his jersey. “Dude, where are you—?”

“I’ll be back,” Eren mutters, ripping himself free and jogging toward the bleachers before anyone can stop him.

You hadn’t expected company, least of all from Floch Forster. Historia had just nudged you, muttering something about incoming trouble, and before you could even react, there he was—Florian “Floch” Forster, king of misplaced confidence, leaning against the railing like he had all the time in the world. You don’t hate Floch. You don’t like him, either, but he’s harmless enough. He’s always been a little too flirty, but in a way that’s more for show than anything else.

“Well, well,” he drawls, his signature gaudy smirk already in place. “If it isn’t the prettiest girl in the bleachers.”

You exhale through your nose. “Oh, god.”

Floch grins, clearly unfazed. “What? That’s a genuine compliment. You’re breaking my heart here, y/n.” His tone is cocky, almost annoying.

You tilt your head, unimpressed. “Do you even have one?” A grin forms on your face, it felt kind of good to banter and maybe knock him down a peg.

“Oof.” He presses a dramatic hand to his chest, cheesing way too hard. “Harsh. But hey, I like a challenge. Y’know, if you ever wanna find out, I could show you—”

“You couldn’t,” you cut in. It's a little abrupt, shocks Historia a bit at the snappiness, but it just comes out.

Floch laughs, plopping down beside you with zero hesitation. “Alright, alright, I’ll cut to the chase.” He leans back on his palms, eyes flicking toward the football field before settling back on you. “How long are you gonna keep pretending your best friend isn’t in love with you?”

You choke on your drink, sitting up straighter now as you sputter a cough. “Excuse me?”

Floch just raises a brow, looking entirely too smug for your liking. “Come on, y/n. The guy stares at you like you hung the goddamn stars. It’s actually painful to watch.”

Your face burns, but you force a scoff. “You’re delusional.”

Floch shakes his head, watching your reaction closely. “Am I? He’s been in love with you since, what, forever? But the dude’s an idiot, so I get why you’re waiting. He’s probably still convinced you’re out of his league.” Out of his league?

Something about that statement makes your stomach clench. That’s not true. Right? Floch doesn’t miss the flicker of doubt in your eyes. His smirk stretches a little wider, sensing an opening.

“But y’know,” he continues, shifting closer, voice dropping just slightly, “if he’s not gonna make a move, maybe you should let someone else have a shot.”

Your lips part, caught off guard. “What?”

Floch leans in just enough for the air between you to thin, to start smelling like his axe cologne. “I’m just saying,” he murmurs. “Maybe you should let someone who actually sees you take you out sometime.”

Oh, you think, heartbeat stuttering slightly. Although your mind was still half focused on what he said about Eren. Before you can formulate a response, something shifts in the air—sharp and tense.

“Oh, hell no.”

The voice is unmistakable. Your head snaps up just in time to see Eren—sweaty, breathless, and looking pissed—hopping the railing in one effortless motion.

Floch doesn’t move. He just smirks. “Well, speak of the devil.”

Eren doesn’t respond, his fists clenching at his sides. His green eyes—usually filled with something bright, warm—are now dark with irritation.

“What the hell are you doing here, Forster?”

Floch tilts his head, all mock innocence. “Relax, man. Just having a friendly conversation.”

Eren’s jaw ticks. “Yeah? Well, have it somewhere else.”

The tension is thick, electric with an almost uncomfortable tension. You glance between them, unsure if you should intervene. Maybe you should, but all you can do is look up at Eren. The way some strands of hair stick to his forehead, the way his thick brows are furrowed. The way he almost seems territorial over you.

Floch exhales, shaking his head like this is all some kind of joke. He shifts his gaze back to you. “Really? You’re just gonna let him chase me off like that?”

You hesitate. And that hesitation is all Floch needs.

He incredulously chuckles under his breath, standing up and dusting himself off. “Man,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

Eren’s jaw tightens. “See what?”

Floch flashes one last cynical smirk before turning to leave. “Nothing, man. Nothing at all.”

And just like that, he’s gone, his chains jingling as he strolls down the metal steps like he hadn’t just stirred up a storm. The silence he leaves behind is suffocating.

You exhale, crossing your arms as you finally shake out of your daze. “That was so unnecessary.”

Eren scoffs, finally looking at you. “He’s a dick.”

You narrow your eyes. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

Eren looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a split second, something unreadable flickers behind his eyes. His lips part like he wants to say something—something important—but instead, he just shakes his head.

“Forget it.”

And with that, he turns, hopping back over the railing and jogging toward the field without a second glance. But you know better. It wasn’t nothing. And now, you don’t know what to do about it.

Eren doesn’t look at you for the rest of practice. Not once. It’s infuriating. From your spot on the bleachers, you watch as he throws himself back into drills like he’s got something to prove, pushing harder than necessary, muscles taut with tension. His jaw is tight, brows furrowed in concentration—but you know him. You know when he’s actually focused and when he’s just using the game as an excuse to run from something. You also know what—or who—he’s running from.

You exhale, frustrated. It’s not like you wanted Floch’s attention. Hell, you would’ve been fine never speaking to him again. But Eren had stormed over like he owned you, like it was his problem to handle, and now he won’t even look at you? It was all too confusing.

Eren misses a catch from Bertholdt, taking off his helmet and throwing it to the ground with an audible 'fuck!' that echoed around the football field. Running a hand through his sweat drenched hair, the frustration in his face is super evident.

Historia, sitting beside you, hums in amusement. “That was deliciously messy,” she murmurs, sipping from her water bottle. "The whole situation. Possessive Eren, the little bicker, everything."

“It’s annoying.” A scoff leaves your lips and you can't help but stare at Eren with a confused and irritated expression.

“Oh, it’s both.”

Ymir snickers, her sunglass covered eyes looking at the way Eren is still pouting. “Dumbass is jealous.”

You roll your eyes. “He is not jealous.”

Ymir glances at you with an expression so patronizing you want to shove her off the bleachers. “Right. He just lost his entire mind over Floch flirting with you for no reason at all.”

You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Because—yeah. The thing is, Eren isn’t the jealous type. He’s never been possessive over you before, never given you any reason to think he cared about who talked to you. He’s always been the annoying one—flirting playfully, ruffling your hair, teasing you about your nonexistent love life like it was all some big joke. And maybe it was. Maybe he was just messing around, just playing into the dynamic you’d always had. But today felt different. And that scared you more than anything.

You wait for him by the locker room. It’s a stupid idea. You know it’s a stupid idea. You could’ve gone home, could’ve ignored the way your pulse has been pounding ever since practice ended, ever since he stormed off like you did something wrong. You could’ve pretended it didn’t bother you—the way he looked right through you for the rest of practice, the way his body went stiff when you so much as moved in his direction, the way he threw himself into drills like he was trying to hit something that wasn’t there.

But you’re still here. Waiting.

The late afternoon sun is sinking lower in the sky, drenching everything in a honey-gold glow. It should be pretty, peaceful even, but the knot in your stomach makes it hard to appreciate. The air is thick, humid from the lingering heat of the day, and your skin feels sticky, uncomfortable. The locker room door swings open in intervals, groups of players filtering out, laughing, talking about parties, weekend plans, things you can’t bring yourself to care about.

Then—finally—he steps out. Eren.

You feel his presence before you even see him, your body going still, your heart stuttering in your chest. He looks good. Unfairly so. His hoodie is loose over his shoulders, damp hair falling into his face, a few strands curling at the ends. His skin is still flushed from exertion, the glow of the sunset catching on the sharp lines of his jaw, the hollow of his throat where the collar of his hoodie has slipped down just enough. He’s effortlessly attractive, in a way that makes your stomach twist with something you don’t want to name.

He notices you immediately. Stops in his tracks. Something flickers across his face—something unreadable—but then it’s gone, replaced by a carefully neutral expression, like he wasn’t just throwing a damn fit over you and Floch thirty minutes ago.

Your arms cross tightly over your chest. “You ran off.”

Eren exhales, looking past you, jaw tight and thick brows furrowed. “Didn’t run.” His voice is flat, clipped. You know him too well to miss the way his fingers twitch at his sides, the way his shoulders are tense even though he’s trying to look casual.

You take a step closer. “Eren.”

His jaw ticks. “What?”

That’s all he says—short, sharp, like a blade cutting through the space between you. It makes irritation flare in your chest, a spark igniting beneath your ribs. He’s the one who lost his mind over nothing. He’s the one who got weird. And now he’s acting like you’re the problem?

You grit your teeth. “Are you seriously mad at me?”

His head snaps toward you so fast it nearly startles you. “Mad at you?” He lets out a dry, humorless scoff, running a hand through his hair, making the damp strands even messier. “I’m not—" he cuts off for a second, rubbing that same hand over his face with a groan, "Jesus, y/n. I just don’t get why you were even entertaining that guy.”

Your stomach drops. The word entertaining rubs you the wrong way, makes your irritation flare into something hotter. “I wasn’t entertaining anyone,” you snap, voice tight with attitude.

Eren exhales sharply, shifting his weight like he’s trying to hold something back. “He was all over you.” yeah, he was dragging it.

Your lips press together. “And?”

His eyes darken, flickering with something upsetting, something raw and vulnerable. “And I didn’t like it.”

It’s barely above a whisper, but it slams into you like a physical force. Your breath catches. The words linger between you, heavy, charged with something neither of you can name but both of you can feel. Your heartbeat is erratic, hammering against your ribs. You’re staring at him, searching his face for answers, for clarity, for anything—but he’s already looking away, already forcing his expression into something other than frustrated jealously, like he didn’t just say something that made your entire world shift on its axis.

He knows. You know he knows. And that terrifies both of you.

He inhales sharply, like he’s about to say something else—but then he stops himself. A muscle in his jaw twitches before he shakes his head with a seemingly defeated sigh. “Forget it.”

“No,” you say quickly, stepping forward, voice urgent, desperate. “Eren—”

But he’s already turning away. Already walking. And this time, you don’t try to stop him. Because the truth is—You’re just as scared as he is.

You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at the space he left behind. Minutes? Seconds? It feels longer than it probably is, but the weight in your chest doesn’t go away. You don’t get it. You’ve had arguments with Eren before. Dumb ones. Stupid ones. He’s annoyed you a million times, and you’ve annoyed him right back. But this? This hurts in a way you don’t know how to process.

Because it felt real. Because it felt like something cracked open between you—something undeniable. And because deep down, in the part of you that you’ve tried to shove away for years, you know the truth: You don’t want him to be okay with other guys flirting with you. You don’t want him to treat you the same way he treats every other girl. And if today proved anything—if the way he reacted, the way he looked at you was any sign—maybe he doesn’t want that either. Maybe he never did.

Eren’s hands are clenched into fists as he walks, barely registering the conversations around him. His heart is still pounding. His body is itching with leftover adrenaline, but it has nothing to do with practice. What the hell was that? His own words play back in his mind, over and over. "I didn’t like it." What the fuck was he thinking, saying that out loud?

He’s been reckless before. He’s flirted with you for years—always playfully, always in a way that he could pass off as a joke. But that? That wasn’t a joke. That was raw, unfiltered, stupid.

Because he can’t have you. Because you don’t see him that way. Because even if you did, he’s not good enough for you. You’re y/n. You’re his best friend. The girl who somehow makes everything in his life feel a little easier, a little lighter, just by being around. The girl he’s been in love with since he was old enough to understand what love is.

And you deserve someone better. Someone who isn’t just figuring out his place in the world. Someone who isn’t Eren Yeager—impulsive, reckless, always getting himself into trouble.

But even knowing that—Even knowing he should stop—He still turns around, just for a second, just to look back. Just to see if you’re still standing there. And when he sees you—arms crossed, head slightly bowed, looking like you’re caught up in your own spiral—It fucking kills him. Because if he wasn’t such a coward, he’d tell you the truth. That he doesn’t just like you. He’s yours. He’s always been yours. But it’s too late now. And it’s all his fault.

[tagged-by-trauma]

Little surprises

Something started off as a simple vacation, but when you got home it turned into a lot more than you bargained for. Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader Warnings: established relationship, mentions of sex (but no smut here), going on a vacation, relaxing, birthday surprises, family moments, unexpected proposal, full on cuteness (proofreading? pfft, what is that?) Word count: 1.9k

Lately, you’ve seen how Pedro always left early in the morning before the sun would even rise, saying goodbye to you with a promising kiss, and he only came home late at night, completely battered and exhausted. You didn’t want to see him like this; you wanted to help him somehow. And the best way to do that?

Arranging a two-week trip to Tuscany before his birthday.

Pedro was sprawled out on the bed; it was one of those days when he was free from all work. You woke up before him, and you carefully peeled yourself out of his protective arms. The moment you were on your feet, you looked down at his peaceful expression, the lines that were usually etched on his face because of stress were almost invisible now.

You walked out as quiet as possible and made your way into the kitchen with the idea of making him breakfast. Pulling out everything you needed from the fridge; you started to work on the bacon and eggs for him while also making his coffee.

You were in the middle of humming your favourite song and moving your hips to the rhythm, too absorbed in cutting the vegetables when too warm arm encircled your middle, and you jumped a little in his embrace, the knife falling from your hands. But the moment of startle lasted only a few seconds as he placed a soft kiss into your hair and leaned his head on your shoulder.

“Good morning, mi amor.”

“Good morning,” your hand fell over his, and you threw your head back against his chest, too lost in the moment.

Picking up the knife again you continued to cut up the rest of the vegetables, his hands never leaving you, the warm of his bare chest seeping into your skin.

“How I love mornings like this,” he murmured into your neck, and you smiled for yourself, the need to tell him your little surprise too much to bear. You put down the knife against the cutting board, and turned around in his arms, your palms falling against his chest.

“And what would you say if…” you pulled out the moment, picking up his curiosity with the mischief behind your lashes. Your thumb was moving across his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“If?” Pedro pulled you closer by your waist, your bodies flush against each other, and he smiled down at you, dimple showing in full glory.

“If I said that we are going to Tuscany for two weeks.”

His eyes grew wide, and the smile on his momentarily faltered, but he let out a nervous chuckle with the disbelieving shake of his head.

“That would be amazing, really. But I can’t. The filming, the—”

You cut him off with your lips over his, and after the initial shock he kissed back with the same passion, his hands now on your hips, holding onto you like his life depended on it. You reached around his neck, and your fingers tangled in the strands at the nape of his neck. The kiss deepened, and you squealed when the ground disappeared from under you, and Pedro placed you on the counter.

His kisses slowly moved from your lips to your jaw, the sensitive spot behind your ear and the side of your neck. You were torn between pulling him in even more or pushing him away and telling him you’ve already talked to his director about the topic, but you softly pushed him away with a strangled sigh. Pedro looked at you with mock offense etched on his face, and you smiled at him as you sneaked your hand down his back and rested it on his boxer covered ass.

“You don’t have to worry about all that,” you tried to bring some mysteriousness into your tone, and it was successful because his eyes lit up in curiosity.

“What do you mean, hermosa?”

“I mean that I’ve already talked to your director, to the production, and they allowed you some relax time. They also said that you deserve it,” his eyes grew to the size of saucers, and you were watching how this information dawned on him with full force.

“You… I fucking love you.”

His lips crashed against yours with so much force that you almost fell back flat on the counter. Your hands remained on his backside pulling him closer as Pedro grinded his hips against yours. Feeling his quickly growing length against your clothed heat you smiled into the kiss and let Pedro’s hands travel up your body.

Meanwhile, the bacon and the eggs gone cold on the little plate you put out on the dining table, the vegetables completely forgotten next to you.

When you finally got to eating, you have already reheated the breakfast three times.

—-—

The two weeks in Tuscany were spent with sleeping, eating, staying in bed with him all day, and walking with him on the beautiful vineyard that was outside the little cottage you stayed at.

Pedro was so unused to the idea of putting everything aside and just relaxing that in the first few days he always checked his phone, opening his emails or looking at the new messages popping up in the groups chat. At one point you took away his phone, reminding him that he deserves this little vacation, that he already worked hard for it.

After that moment he was more carefree, only focusing on you and the beautiful scenery. You caught him multiple times looking at you completely awestruck, like you were the goddess of his heart, like he’d never seen anyone as beautiful as you.

You laid with him under a tree having picnic, sat on the little balcony having breakfast or drinking the best wine you’ve ever had, you made love to him, proved him that he was worthy of something like this, like having a moment for himself away from set, not worrying about anything.

And besides al these things you managed to plan a birthday party for him.

You talked with his sisters and brother asking for their help, arranging the restaurant, the drinks, the food, but Javiera insisted on baking the cake, and of course you said yes to it. While they were busy with their own jobs, you invited everyone close to him. Family, friends, co-stars. And when everything was set, you just needed to get him home in one piece.

—-—

“Mi amor, I can’t see anything.”

Pedro was walking next to you, a blindfold securely tied over his eyes, and he was complaining at every second. You arm was around him, preventing him to trip and fall to the ground. The restaurant was just a few feet away now, and you couldn’t help but shake your head at his antics.

“Yeah, you see, it’s kind of what blindfolds are for.”

“Well, again, I can’t see, and second, I could definitely think of better ways to use this fabric.”

You were grateful that he didn’t see the way how you’ve gone all red and continued walking to the front door. Stepping inside, you looked around the people gathered there and gave them a grateful nod. You stood Pedro to the center of the room, watching as Javiera, Lux and Nico emerged from the little crowd with the simplest but most beautiful cake you’ve ever seen.

“Where are you, mi amor?” his panicked voice echoed in the otherwise quiet room as you stepped back from him. You reached up and softly untied the blindfold, pulling it away from his face and taking a step back when everyone shouted Happy Birthday! at the same time.

Pedro’s eyes grew wide at the sudden change of tone, and the sight of his siblings walking closer to him. He glanced back at you for a second, and you could see tears shining behind his lashes before he turned back around. He thanked everyone for coming, and he finally got the chance to hug his sisters. When you saw that he was now fully crying, you couldn’t help the stray drops that trickled down your cheeks too. In that moment you knew that this was a good idea.

“So,” you watched as he stood up from his seat beside you after the dinner was served and eaten, the little waver in his voice picking your curiosity. “I don’t really know what I could say. When the blindfold was put on me, I really thought that we were going to a little private space, maybe a small restaurant hidden from the prying eyes, but…” he stopped to wipe his eyes, and he looked down at you. “But that wasn’t the case.”

Your teeth sink into your lower lip, and you encouraged him to continue.

“Mi amor,” you were surprised when Pedro’s next words were directed at you. “I keep thinking about all the small moments that helped us get here. Late night texts, coffee in the closest café, laughing over something insanely ridiculous, the way I always looked at you when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. And along this road, I fell in love with you.”

“I love how excited you get over the things you love. I love how you treat people with kindness, even when they don’t deserve it. I love your weirdest habits in this world, your strange go-to snacks, the way your nose scrunches up when I say something insane. You brought me out of the chaos of my old life, and I’ll forever be grateful for that.”

“I’m not promising you a perfect love. But I promise that I’ll always be honest to you. I promise to say I’m sorry even when you were at fault, to fight for us, even when it’s the hardest thing to do. I promise to love you when you are glowing and when you feel your lowest you’ve ever felt.”

The tears were streaming from your eyes uncontrollably, the whole room falling into complete stillness and quietness. Pedro’s lips quivered a little when he reached for your hand and helped you out of your chair.

“I want to hold your hand when we’ll be old, the wrinkles painting our faces, and our hair becoming grayer than your favourite sweatpants of mine,” between two sobs you let out a little chuckle. “I will want to argue with you about what to watch in the TV or about whose turn it is to knit a row in the blanket. Right now, I’m choosing my best friend, partner, love. My home. My future. My heart is held out in my hand for you; it’s your choice now what to do with it. So, with all the respect and love in the world I’d like to ask you,” he reached in his back pocket, and pulled out the little jewellery box before getting down on one knee. “Will you be my other part, my better part in the rest of our lives and in the afterlife?”

You didn’t hesitate to say yes, your voice almost unrecognizable, and you squatted down to Pedro’s level, kissing him tenderly. His arms came around you as the room erupted in cheers and celebration, but neither of you paid attention, just the two of you remaining in the restaurant.

When you finally pulled back you saw the tears on his face too. Pedro took your hand in his and the ring slipped on your finger effortlessly, the simple diamond sitting there like it always belonged in that place.

Something started that day, something more important.

Something like forever.

[bopero]

loose lips & victories

there is an unnamed & blossoming urge you bring out of hamzah. (SMUT MDNI!)

Dating Hamzah has consisted of nothing but sweet dreams and candy roads. He brings you whatever you may ask for, whatever you desire. His adamant need to fulfill all of your wishes is adorable, proving his loyalty to you time and time again in his own subtle ways. He’s attuned to your thoughts. Scarily so. You don’t know if he’s good at being in relationships, or just reading you.

Superficially, he’s doing anything he can to be a good boyfriend. And he is a good boyfriend.

There’s just a small part of himself he hides. You know from the lingering stares that burn through your nerves and the touches that are ingrained into your skin. The grooves of his fingers reveal something that his mouth can never really articulate.

The house is loud and brimming with people. Martin had invited the two of you over for a ‘small’ get-together, but you fear losing Hamzah in the crowd as he pulls you through towards a lesser crowded space. You’re grateful for his touch, as small as it is, because it lessens the nerves just enough to where you won’t lose your mind. He seems to do that a lot for you.

When you reach the kitchen, Hamzah’s face is pinched in a familiar way. It tells you all you need to know without words: he’s ready to leave. He nods towards the door, signaling to you instead of trying to speak over the barrage of noise. Before either of you can step towards the door, although, a hand on your shoulder stops you. You assume it’s someone you know who’d have the audacity to touch you, but as you turn your smile drops.

Some man you’d never seen before stands there with a goofy smile that only annoys you. Something about him screams cocky and arrogant.

“Yo, where you off to, mama?” He sips from the plastic cup in his hand, drunk off his ass and you have to shake your head in disbelief.

Hamzah’s hand tightens around yours, “Uh…leaving. With my boyfriend.”

The man only laughs, spilling some of his drink as he bumps into whoever’s around him, “Yooo, my bad man, I didn’t even realize she was taken, for real.”

Hamzah’s very obviously (to you, at least) reaching his tipping point, his eyebrows furrowing deeper with every moment that passes with this man standing in front of him, “It’s…chill.”

He tries to let it go peacefully, once again leading you towards the exit. This time, he makes sure to wrap an arm around your shoulders. He tells himself it’s to keep you safe, but really it’s to ward off any other potential drunken ‘suitors.’

The man doesn’t seem to take the obvious hint when you both turn your backs, “Yo, but why don’t you let her stay a whi-“

“We’re leaving. Bye.”

Hamzah’s voice is clipped, and with his shouting over the music the man seems to understand-through his drunken state of mind-that maybe he shouldn’t flirt with people who have boyfriends. Mandy seems too busy handling Martin across the room, so you wave to her as you leave.

Hamzah groans when you arrive outside, finally able to breathe and let his arms stretch, “You…okay?”

This is the first time he’s ever shown any sort of possessiveness over you. The strange concoction of feelings flowing inside you is new, but you don’t fear it. You lean into the high that Hamzah gives you.

“‘M okay. I’m sure he’ll be embarrassed in the morning.”

Something is bothering him. He scoffs as he walks down the steps. His feet move quickly and with fervor as he shoves his hands in his pockets, “Yeah, he should be. Fuckin’ weirdo.”

His breath puffs out into the cold night air. The venom in his words sends some kind of adrenaline through you, “Are you okay?”

“Pfft, I’m fine. I’m perfect. Love it when sleezeballs flirt with my girlfriend in front of me.”

“Hamzah.”

You stop as you both reach the sidewalk beside his parked car. He turns to you, “I’m not mad at you, sorry. ‘S not your fault at all. Just-don’t like to see that. Sorry.”

“You’re jealous.”

He scratches the back of his neck embarrassedly, “What? Noooo, I just care about women a lot. ‘M a feminist.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Ok, yes, I’m jealous.”

You step towards him. He stands frozen. You think in fear, but really he’s only trying to hold back the overwhelming urge to pull you in and kiss you all over. Do more than kiss you. Claim you.

He’s kind of afraid to admit those urges.

You pull him in by the collar of his jacket, forcing his nervous eyes to look at you, “You know I’m yours, right? Like, you asked me out and everything?”

He rolls his eyes, his tongue poking his cheek as the annoyance from before seeps through, “I know that. That douchebag didn’t.”

A thrill runs through your body. Seeing his jaw clenched, his balled up fists, and his sweet demeanor replaced by something completely opposite causes a chain reaction inside of you.

You grab the courage inside of you before it can leave and you mumble out, “Maybe you should make it so that he knows…”

He stares dumbfounded, “What? You want me to fight him? ‘Cause girl, I will.”

He looks back at your confused, frustrated face. It takes him a moment to really understand what you mean. For all he brags about knowing and understanding you, he’s slow on the uptake.

“Oh.”

Hamzah doesn’t know what to do. Before he can gather any sort of courage, you kiss him. It’s the kind of kiss that makes him float on cloud 9, and he’s not really sure where he is in time and space. He just knows your lips are on his and that’s all his mind can focus on. His hands find their way to your hips, hesitant on their way down but firm in their grip. He lets out a whine when your hands pull him downwards towards you and you laugh into the kiss.

You separate to catch your breath, Hamzah’s lips chasing yours, “Do you get what I mean now?”

He’s breathless and his red cheeks are only made worse with the cold, “Yeah, I think so.”

“We should go to your car.”

“Yeah.”

“In the backseat.”

Hamzah rushes to rip open his door handle, and he sheepishly laughs at the look you give him. You climb in quickly, because truthfully, you’re just as eager as he is. As soon as he climbs in and shuts the door, you maneuver your way between his legs. It’s hard to so in the small space of the car, but the tent that seems to grow in his pants is all you’re focused on.

He stops you as your hands reach to unbuckle his belt, cupping your cheeks in his hands, “W-wait, you’re sure, right? Just- don’t do this cause you feel like you gotta.”

You rub circles onto one of the hands on your face, “Hamzah, I’ve been wanting to suck your dick since the first day we met.”

“Oh.”

When you make that clear, Hamzah lets you shimmy him out of his jeans. You palm him through his boxers, watching as he wriggles and tries to be patient for you. He clearly struggles as the whines build in his throat and his hands itch to touch you, feel you.

He leans back when you finally touch him unclothed for the first time, grabbing the headpiece of the seat as he tries to bring his mind back to Earth for you. Your hands seem to know just how to touch him to get him crumbling, tracing the most sensitive parts of him that leave him breathless and shaking.

“F-fuck…jus’-just don’t stop, please.”

You’ve barely begun and he’s broken to his bare core: begging and pleading for you. He shakes in your hands, sweating heavily. When you take him in your mouth, his entire body jolts and his mouth lets out the prettiest sounds. He’s putty in your hands.

Your tongue runs over him, hand taking the rest of his length so no part of his is neglected. You have to hold his hips still as he moans aloud, letting nonsense praises spill while he loses control.

“Baby, baby… I ca-you gotta slow down, ‘m gonna-“

Whatever restraint he seems to hold finally snaps as he grabs your hair and stops you in your tracks, “I’m sorry-fuck-I jus’ can’t stop,”

He sounds so apologetic, teary, and pathetic as he fucks your mouth. With every harsh thrust he gives, the more he breaks. You’re sure whoever’s passing by right now can hear him moaning at the top of his lungs. But neither of you seem to care.

You gag on him as he hits the back of your throat, and that only seems to bring him closer to the edge, “So good to me, fuck, can’t believe you’re mine,” you moan at his words, the vibration of your hums sending a shiver throughout his entire body, “Yeah? You’re mine, huh? Gotta let everybody know.”

Your watery eyes meet his, and that seems to light something in him. The little spark of a flame that’s been building up at the bottom of his spine is suddenly bursting as he pulls your head until your nose touches his pelvis.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry…!”

His high-pitched moans betray his words, hips twitching with every drop of his come that pours into your mouth. You take it all greedily and hungrily, watching the way his pretty face contorts when he’s in the throes of pleasure.

Hamzah seems to become self aware all at once, post-nut clarity hitting him as he lets go of your head quickly and spouts apologies just as fast. You don’t let him wallow in embarrassment for too long, reaching up to press a light kiss to his animated lips.

“Don’t be sorry.”

He smiles shyly, “Ok.”

[clairewritesfanfics]

Inside an Otoge: Mister Dragon, Let Me Love You Chapter 2

Pairing: Dragon!Sylus x Non-MC!Reader

CHAPTER 1 | Series Masterlist <<read the synopsis and trigger warnings first>>

A/N: Just a disclaimer, I currently know very little of the world lore for Sylus’ myth, just the bare bones of it. I’m waiting for his cards to rerun to read everything for myself so forgive me for any canon divergence. Sylus may also seem OOC.

“You keep staring at me.” Sylus sighs and pauses from rummaging through the paper bag. “Is the sight really that amusing?”

You are on your knees, elbows on a nearby treasure chest as your knuckles cradle your cheeks. To others who have not lived a loveless life, your face is the picture of adoration, but the dragon who knew only hatred and disgust could not recognize the expression you wear as you observe him.

You glance at his giant talons holding a can of iced mocha and hum.

Five cans of coffee from different brands, random sweets, a bag of potato chips, and one sad fruit cup to hold up the illusion of health were meant to be your dinner that fateful night. You had overtime and didn’t want anything that required more than one hand to eat. 

That paper bag from the convenience store along with your work bag were the only things you had when you were dragged into this world. 

“You look adorable,” you say.

“That’s the first time anyone has used that word to describe me.”

“Then everyone before me was blind or stupid or both.” 

He ignores you and shakes the coffee can. “I can feel something liquid moving inside. I’ve never seen these characters before.”

“That’s because me and that can are not from here. It’s a type of coffee, er, I don’t know if that exists here… it’s a naturally bitter beverage that’s made from a type of bean. That recipe makes it sweeter though.” You get up and approach him. You reach for the can but he pulls it away, looking confused and defensive, like a child who does not want to share his favorite toy. 

You giggle. Maybe he likes that the container is shiny. “I’m not going to take it away from you, I’m going to open it so you can have a taste.” 

He reluctantly parts with it and you show him how to pull the tab open. 

“Here, take a sip.”

He takes a sniff of the coffee, nose scrunching before he glares at you.

“It’s not a trick. I bought those for me, you think I’d drink poison?”

Relenting, he finally takes a sip, brows furrowed. Then he takes another sip, then another, and then he gulps down everything with his tail sweeping excitedly against the floor, pleased. “This taste is… new to me.”

“It’s bad to drink it all in one go, you could get a bad case of the tummy ache.”

“I’m not some impatient child,” he huffs, childishly. 

“Whatever you say.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“You’re imagining things.”

He growls, no, purrs like a dissatisfied kitten before turning his attention back to the contents of the paper bag which now lay scattered about on the ground. He looks calm but with the way his tail keeps wagging, you know he wants to try more.

“I’m sorry for laughing. You can try some more.” You pick up several snacks and hold them out to him. 

He remains unmoving, but his eyes could only barely hide their desire to eat. 

You wonder what the problem is. Suddenly, it comes to you that he is likely feeling shy, almost reserved, not wanting to take more of your food. Pfft. It is truly a wonder how anybody could hate such a cute creature.

You clear your throat and pick out a snack yourself. You tear open the box and aluminum then pull out a single stick of the chocolate-covered biscuit. “This is called Pocky. There’s an interesting game for it, too. Two people compete to see who finishes it first.” 

“Compete how? It’s way too small to even share–” His tail stops moving when you put one end of the biscuit in your mouth and then point at the other end.

His expression of bewilderment morphs into a teasing smirk. “So this was your goal. If you wanted to kiss me, you should’ve just been honest from the start.” He leans over to you. Those soft lips barely graze the stick before you inhale the whole thing in one go.

You swallow and say, “You lost.” 

“...”

“...”

He pulls out another biscuit and puts it in his mouth, then turns to you. You bite down on your end and steal the whole thing away before he has the chance to breathe.

You cover your mouth as you chew. “Lost again.” 

He gets another stick and you steal that too. And then the other one, and then the other one, and so on. Soon, the box is empty and Sylus’ tail thumps furiously.

You swallow the last of your spoils. “And here I thought dragons were apex predators.” You didn’t expect to win so many times. Although considering how short your breaks at work were, eating quickly comes as easily as breathing to you.

“You cheated.”

“Don’t be a sore loser. Isn’t your kind supposed to be the epitome of grace and dignity?”

“...”

“Don’t pout. You can have the rest of my food and drinks.” You nudge the remainder of your “dinner” towards him. 

“...”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually mad?”

He silently traces the rim of a coffee can. Eyes downturned, he asks, “I can’t tell whether it’s bravery or foolishness. Most humans want to kill me, but you talk and act as if you do not even see me as a threat.”

“That’s because I don’t.” 

“And yet you’re weak.”

“Well, yes. In fact, if you were to throw me away right now, I have no doubt that I would die in the wilderness within a day.”

“How…”

“Hm?”

“How are you so bold?”

Bravery or foolishness. If you have to think about it, it is neither. The truest answer is this: apathy. You stopped being alive years ago. You were empty until Sylus breathed life into you. You adore Love and Deepspace but to be honest, even when you had the game version of your darling, it was merely a distraction. If you were to get hit by a truck before finishing the story, you would have been okay with it. Even now, as you kneel before the authentic thing, should your favorite kill you, then you would be fine. 

A walking corpse is still just a corpse, after all.  

You give Sylus a soft smile. “I don’t think I’m being bold, though.”

“You confuse me.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You offer him the cappuccino. 

“Do you really have no place else to go?”

You shrug. If he were to somehow kick you out of this prison, there is no doubt that you will end up dead in a matter of days. But you don’t want to manipulate him with guilt. Whatever choice he makes, you would accept. “I was just joking earlier, I’m tougher than I look. I’ll survive.” You grin, hoping it would be good enough to convince him.

He touches the can but doesn’t hold it. His hand is so large that the tips of his claws poke your nails. Connected with each other, he looks at you and says, “...If it's all right with you, just stay with me.”  

How could you refuse?

Part 3: here Masterlist: here

@phisen @leryg0 @capribun @sinnamon-bunn @wegottastayfocus @erisnxxi @syyyy4ever

[foone]

AAA games? Pfft. Indie games? Double pfft.

I only play games from the alternate history where Hillary Clinton was elected in 2008 and banned all video games. You can only imagine how weird their underground gaming scene is. People like to call unlicensed games "bootlegs" but they've got actual bootlegged games! I've played games about helping your grandmother in hospice care realize she's a lesbian by reading Sappho to her, at 2am in a speakeasy in Baltimore. The cops raided it the next night, hundreds of Gamers were arrested. They posted pictures all over Friendster of the Baltimore PD destroying the arcades with axes.

I nearly got busted once because I was imaging old disks from a 386 and someone tipped off the gaming cops that there was a copy of Commander Keen in there. I had to prove that I didn't know it, I was imaging the disks blind and then indexing them later, and I would of course turn over any contraband to the proper authorities.

I was already on a watch list because I'd been known to have some gamedev-related activities pre-ban. They can't arrest me for making games back in 2007 when it was still legal, but they do want to keep an eye on me since I have the skills to break the law.

Anyway that universe's bootlegs are mainly PC games. Can't really have console games if there hasn't been a console release since the Wii/PS3/360 era. At one point Nintendo threatened to release the Wii SDK so game devs in the US could make unlicensed games, but that didn't happen as there were quickly no functional Wiis left in the US, except for very rare holdouts that never move. PC games are easy to distribute samizdat and hide on a USB stick or CD-R labeled "nickelback".

Japan's games industry is still going, so the later Nintendo and Sony consoles still exist, but Microsoft got out of the business of course. They sold the franchise to Sega who were hoping to release the 360 successor (the Xbox One in our universe) as the Sega Phoenix but it never materialized, either through their own financial incompetence or because of pressure from the US. There's a lot of international treaties that the US has pushed "and this aid only goes through if you ban games" clauses into. That would have been an official UN resolution if the USSR hadn't vetoed it. For once, thank God for the security council, eh?

I mainly get my gaming news through Japanese gaming sites (through a set of VPNs, since they're blocked at the border firewall), and some tor onion site run by a weird guy in Minnesota who is obsessed with documenting all the underground US games.

There's a lot being worked on, but it's always a tricky trade off. Too much attention and the police might be able to track down the creators, and it's basically impossible to fund underground games, as the VISA/PayPal etc funds get seized immediately. There's a whole task force for that.

Anyway one of the weirdest differences between our two time lines is that they've gone back and edited out gaming from a bunch of movies. Those that they can, of course. War games was just banned because they couldn't remove the tic tac toe ending. The Net just removed the scene at the beginning where she's playing Wolfenstein 3D, by recording some new screen footage and a new voice over. She's fixing a spreadsheet in the new edition.

(Yes, I've seen The Net from this alternate timeline. On Laserdisc, of course. I'm just that kind of person!)

They even edited Star Wars. You know that scene where R2-D2 is playing holochess with Chewie? They edited it to be a board game instead of holograms, because that made it too "video gamey".

Technically it's not illegal to show gaming in a movie, but it needs to be an 18+ film and you have to show the deleterious effects of gaming and/or the gamesters coming to a bad end.

This has affected films less than you'd think, to be honest. They were never great about showing video games even before they banned them.

Anyway, go have fun playing your AAA games with hundred-million-dollar budgets. I only play indie games made by people under a constant threat of arrest for their art.

[demonic0angel]

Things that happened at Thanksgiving today, but I make it DPxDC

Damian: … Richard? What are you doing?

Dick: *standing on the lawn and staring into the distance* I’ve been watching Danny try and struggle to park for the past fifteen minutes.

Damian: Oh. *also stops to watch* Have you seen Danielle and Jasmine come in?

Dick: Tbh, no. I’ve been watching Danny this entire time. And oh— oh! He stopped. Ooh, he turned around. He’s leaving. Damn, he gave up entirely and decided to park on the grass. Oh, he ran over Alfred’s bushes.

Damian:

Dick:

Damian: He won’t make it past the gates without Alfred sniping him.

Dick: Damn, you’re right.

————

Damian: *after Jason did something* what do you think you’re doing, Todd?

Jason: Lol, your mom

Damian: Actually, my mom only used you for her own goals. In fact, your mom abandoned you. Twice.

Jason:

Dick: Now, Damian, that’s not—

Damian: People who have had their mothers die in front of them should not speak.

Dick:

Damian: *pointing at Tim* And you! You may have had two parents at one point, but they definitely don’t consider you as their child! That’s why you had to stay with your neighbors so long! You’re an inconvenience!

Tim:

Stephanie: Hey now—

Damian: I don’t even want to hear you. Does your mother know you go out and fight crime? Does she even care?

Stephanie:

Damian: *looking at Cass* You too, Cassandra! But mommy issues wouldn’t be the least of your problems with your daddy issues as well!

Cass:

Damian: *turning around to Danny* And I didn’t forget about you, Fenton! No wonder you fit right in, your abandonment issues, raging teenage angst, and appearance makes you just at home, doesn’t it?!

Danny:

Tim: …. What about Jazz?

Jazz: *who’s been silent the entire time*

Damian:

Jazz:

Everybody else:

Damian: No, she’s a guest here. Why would I do that?

————

Dani: Pfft— Tim, Tim, can I— *can’t breathe from laughing too hard* can I touch your hair? It just looks so soft! *still laughing*

Tim: …?

Jazz and Danny: *also laughing their guts out*

Dani: *tries to reach for Tim but she keeps laughing and can’t focus on asking him* Your hair looks so soft— keheheh! C-Can I touch it??

Dani: *eventually swipes her finger under Tim’s nose and falls off of her chair from cackling so loud*

Tim: …..

Jason: *also bursting out in laughter* YOUR FACE!! BWAHAHAHAH

*Dani then proceeded to do this four more separate times with other people*

————

Dick: You know how Harley is back together with the Joker?

Dan: Yeah?

Dick: He cheated on Harley again.

Danny: *whirling around, flabbergasted* HUH?!

————

Dick: *carrying several bottles* Alright! Time for alcohol!

Jazz: Uhhh, Dick? Damian is right there—

Dick: He’s getting drunk tonight too!!

Everyone: ????

Damian: Yes! Alcoholism! *takes a plastic cup and takes a big gulp*

Dan: *looking at the bottle* This says sparkling apple cider?

Dick: Shhhh, just watch the show.

————

*dramatic screaming from other room*

Bruce: ….? What’s that?

Dick: Is that Jason? He sounds like he’s in pain

Bruce: *standing up* is he okay? Does he need help? Should I go and help him?! What’s happening—

Tim: Jason is playing ping pong with Dan and Danny. And losing really badly while Jazz is watching.

Bruce:

Dick:

Tim:

Bruce: oh.

[midnightfict]

Take One, or Maybe Ten?

— 𓆩𓆪 —

𓆩 Lee Byung-Hun x F!reader 𓆪

Summary — A new upcoming actress lands her first major role in a romance drama alongside actor Lee Byung-hun.

A/N — this story is heavily inspired by a couple of Lee Byung-hun fanfics i’ve seen here. Go check the other’s works! (tension4mari & kyoyoyay)

— 𓆩𓆪 —

The sun was starting to set, casting a soft golden glow over the set of the romance drama Through the Seasons. You sat in your chair, nervously twirling the script in your hands. It was your first major role, and while you’re ecstatic about working alongside such an accomplished actor, Lee Byung-hun, the upcoming scene had your nerves completely shot.

It wasn’t just any scene. It was the scene. The moment your character realizes the depth of the male lead’s feelings, right before he gently tilts your face up to look into his eyes, brimming with unspoken emotion.

The problem? You have never been in a relationship, let alone acted in a romance drama. How are you supposed to channel yearning, of all things?

The scenes you filmed before was so much easier. Honestly, it didn’t require much acting. Especially when your character is supposed to be all shy and flustered. Never able to make eye contact. It’s even better when you don’t even have to interact physically!

However, this is the moment where you have to throw all of that out and be in the moment. Imagining the awkwardness makes you want to vomit on the spot. Not leaving the fact that it’s such an intimate scene with someone you can barely say a close friend. Fuck.

“Everyone, let’s continue!” the director’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

You took a deep breath and stepped onto the set, facing Lee Byung-hun. He was calm and composed, as if this kind of scene was just another day at work for him. Which, for him, it was. For you? Not so much.

“Byung-hun, Y/N” the director began, “this scene is all about subtlety. Byung-hun, you have to look at her like she’s the most important person in the world. Lift her chin softly, as if she’s going to break if you put the slightest bit of pressure on her. Y/N, hold his gaze. Let yourself get lost into his eyes. Like you are yearning for him, not wanting him to leave your sight. Then, when the door opens, you both will immediately push each other away acting clueless, Got it?”

You nodded quickly, though your stomach was doing somersaults. Byung-hun gave you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice low and warm. “You’re going to do great.”

The cameras rolled. Byung-hun stepped closer, his eyes locking into yours. You could feel your heart pounding as he reached out, his fingers brushing your jawline—

“Pfft!” You burst into laughter, stepping back and covering your mouth. “I’m so sorry!” The crew chuckled, and the director smiled. “Alright, cut! Take a deep breath, Y/N. We’ll roll as soon as you’re ready.”

Byung-hun tilted his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. “What happened? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s not you!” You stammered continuing to laugh. “I feel like my acting was too awkward, I’m sorry!” You took a deep breath and gave a nod to the director.

Take two.

Byung-hun’s faze was soft, yet piercing. His hand moved to your jaw, and— you giggled again, steeping back. “Gosh, I am so so sorry!”

“Cut!” The crew and director erupted in laughter, Byung-hun let out a chuckle. “You can’t keep it together, can you?”

“This is so- I laugh because I’m embarassed but then get embarassed for laughing.” She rants burying her face into her hands.

“Okay, let’s just pretend it’s not me, alright?” Byung-hun said before continuing, “Pretend I’m… I don’t know, a lamp or something.”

You burst out laughing again, shaking your head. “A lamp?! That is not helping!”

“Poor Y/N! someone get her a fan, she’s blushing like crazy!” A crew joined in, teasing you. “I’m not!” You protested, though your cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Byung-hun stepped closer, lowering his voice to make sure you’re comfortable with him doing the scene.

“I’m fine, It’s just… I’ve never done anything like this. Honestly, I’ve never even been this close to a guy before.”

His eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise. “Really? Not even a boyfriend? Boys your age must be blind.” He chuckled trying to lighten up the mood.

You looked away, feeling even more flustered.

He smiled, his expression softening. “Let me give you a little tip. Keep focusing on your character. What would she be feeling in this moment? Absorb her mannerisms. Forget about everything else, okay?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. Your eyes closed, imagining the scene in your head.

“And if it helps,” he added, his voice teasing making you open your eyes. “Keep thinking of me as a lamp.” Laughter shot out of you again, but this time, it felt like some of the tension melted away.

——

Take ten

After multiple attempts, you got new insights on how to make the scene better. This take, you are determined to do it perfectly.

Byung-hun stepped into place, eyes meeting yours. You focused on the warmth in his gaze, the way his presence seemed to fill the space around you. When his hand reached up to gently touch your jaw, you let your eyes follow his. Your face lifted up from his actions but your eyes fall down to his lips for a short second.

Deep down, you panic. You swore it was an accident but your mind was silenced when he did the same look to you.

The set door opened, cueing the break of contact.

“Cut!” the director called, clapping his hands together. “That’s it! Perfect! The improvisation in the end, chef’s kiss”

The crew cheered their agreemants, and you let our a relieved laugh, stepping back. Byung-hun grinned, leaning in just slightly. Both of you silently agreeing to not bring up the improvisation. If you could call it that.

“See? I know you could do it,” he said proudly. “Yeah, well, I only learned from the best,” you replied teasingly, still a little flustered

As the crew reset for the next scene, Byung-hun lingered for a moment, giving you an encouraging smile. “You did great. Let’s see if you can stay calm like that for the next scene.”

He grinned shrugging his shoulders before walking away, leaving you standing there, cheeks burning, heart racing, and maybe… looking forward to the next scene.

[yyokkki]

The Prefect's Laugh

Dropping this monstrosity i wrote in September 2023 because I feel like I'm never going to leave this fandom.

First Years x gn! Prefect

Warning: I haven't played chapter 7, Prefect has a distinct personality so it doesn't really count as x reader but some people could find them relatable, a jumble of canon and non-canon events, mild cursing?

Divider by @saradika

It wasn’t that the Prefect never smiled. In fact, they may have smiled a little too often. It could be as simple as a wordless greeting or as complex as a way to cope with fear, but there was one particular expression the first years saw only once in a blue moon. The smile that comes alongside a fit of laughter.

The first time Ace saw the infamous Ramshackle Prefect smile like that was not too long after they had first met. It was a day or two after Heartslabyul’s housewarden overblotted and they’d finally gotten the rose garden in order.

While chatting about that day’s happenings, a rather embarrassing detail was brought up (embarrassing to Ace at least).

“Can we, like, NOT talk about this anymore??”

“I mean, the housewarden was really going in on you and you just stood there and took it but as soon as he said those things about the Prefect’s parents you didn’t even hold back. It’s weirdly sweet of him, right?”

Deuce looked towards the Prefect for their input to which they replied by fervently nodding their head.

“Wow, who could’ve guessed that maybe THE Ace Trappola cares about his friends??”

“…Honestly would’ve believed you more if you said you did it just to prove you could.”

“Pfft-“

Ace’s head whipped to the side, and he stared at the blooming smile on the Prefect’s face. Crinkled eyes, a hand in front of their mouth and slightly flushed cheeks as they tried to hold in their chuckles.

He wanted to make a snarky comment, something like, ‘I’ve been trying to make you laugh for the past two weeks and THIS Is what makes you break?’

Instead, what came out of his mouth was… Silence.

Maybe the new expression was too shocking as he just stared, five parts confusion, three parts embarrassment, two parts bashfulness. The most he could get out of them even with the most well-crafted jokes were slight smirks and yet something Deuce said without even intending to be funny made them crack.

He felt wronged.

And flustered.

…Shit, why are they kinda cute.

Going back to before the overblot, a day that Deuce personally considers more traumatising than his own housewarden’s mental breakdown.

Sorrowfully gazing upon the carnage of eggshells, whites and yolks jumbled up in the plastic bag branded with the words, Mr. S’ Mystery Shop, Deuce gave out another wistful sigh.

“I just hope those chicks can rest in peace.”

“…You know those eggs don't hatch into chickens, right?”

Shocked, flabbergasted, gobsmacked, stunned, stupefied, bowled-over; all words that could be used to describe Deuce Spade’s current state of mind.

“Wh- WHAT??? YOU’RE KIDDING.”

While Deuce was having an epiphany about the eggshell-shocking revelation, he noticed the Prefect’s slightly hunched over back and trembling frame. He was about to go comfort them when he saw their face…

And heard their laughter, ringing out like the sound of wind chimes swaying with the summer breeze, despite it being mid-September.

“YOU’RE LAUGHING???”

He looked at them with five parts feelings of betrayal, three parts despair and two parts anger. He was so offended that he immediately stormed off with the grocery bags in hand, huffing and puffing as he went on his unmerry way.

It wasn’t until later that the Prefect started feeling guilty about their reaction to the incident. It kind of felt like telling a little kid Santa wasn’t real…

They apologised, got him a book about the evolution of egg production, hugged it out and all was forgiven.

It wasn’t until much much later that Deuce Spade realised, he had only seen the Prefect laugh a handful of times, that incident taking up one of the spaces.

It had grown to become one of his favourite sounds in the world.

Jack Howl was never one for bad jokes or witty banter. Whenever he and the Prefect stood together, besides looking like a sturdy tree next to a swaying flower, they didn’t look friendly- much less like friends.

Only the two of them understood the solidarity that came with the silence. They were each others go-to when the other first years got too rowdy.

Truly the mom and dad of the group.

They would occasionally engage in conversation. Somehow when they were together, asking about each other’s day would lead to which parts of home they missed most now that they were away or embarrassing childhood memories, they hadn’t told anyone else about.

It was on a day like any other, a long while after the deep sea overblot.

Jack and the Prefect had finally started speaking to each other comfortably, yet most of their time together was spent just existing in the same room, doing their own thing.

It wasn’t awkward, at least not to the Prefect. But they had to ask just in case.

“Hey, do you ever feel like we don’t really talk when we hang out?”

“…Well, we are at the library.”

“I mean at other places too.”

Jack looked up from his notes, glancing at the Prefect with a little apprehension tracing his features.

“Why? You find it weird?”

“No, I like it a lot, just- I’m not used to it you know? Whether it’s the friends I’ve made here or my friends from back home they’ve never been the type to let the room stay quiet for over five seconds.”

They shifted slightly to cast an inquisitive glance over at him, “I can’t tell if you mind or not.”

Against his very own will, Jack’s tail started flowing slightly. So, they like being around him?

“I feel the same as you. I like our time together.”

Realising he sounded a little too soft, he immediately started backpedalling.

“Not that that means anything. I enjoy spending time with many people, doesn’t make you special.”

After finishing his piece, Jack looked back down at his notes, playing it cool. His tail, however, betrayed his feelings.

"Pfhaha, so cute, it’s like a helicopter-“

“…”

Not knowing how to defend himself, Jack got up to sit across the Ramshackle Prefect, blocking their view of his tail but giving him the perfect angle to catch all their expressions.

…It may be a little too late for him.

It all started with a godforsaken game of PG rated chicken.

Epel Felmier didn’t know whose dumb idea it was to hold a competition like this among all the first years but damn was he killin’ it.

It was almost too easy. It made him feel conflicted. Should he be happy that he’d somehow reached the finals? Or mad that it’s all cause of his face and build?? Either way, the prize was too good to pass up so he was gonna win.

So far he’d been flyin’ through with direct eye contact and a smile or two if his opponents were tougher but the final round had been filling him with a weird sense of dread, so he decided to prepare a little somethin’ special this time.

He doubted he’d have to use it though; he didn’t think very highly of the kids at NRC in this specific department…

That being until he got a text from the organiser telling him who his opponent was, that being: the Ramshackle Prefect.

Well shit.

He knew they never judged anybody, including him, for their appearance, and he’d always appreciated them for that. But in this context, it would make ‘em a tough nut to crack.

Not even mentioning, they knew his weakness when he didn’t have theirs.

He immediately pulled down their chat and started typing ferociously.

‘you. me. ramshackle lounge. after school. please?’ And send.

Might as well get a practise round in to scope the waters.

Luckily, the Prefect considered him a friend and wasn’t overly cautious, so not long after the text was sent an ‘ok’ was promptly sent back.

As soon as school let out, Epel ran into the Prefect in the mirror chamber, and they embarked towards Ramshackle dorm together.

He’d informed them of his intentions while on the way, so they got started after arriving.

First, he tried his usual techniques despite knowing they wouldn’t work. As expected, the Prefect didn’t so much as flinch.

Then they smiled warmly at him.

“Your training has been working out really well, I can see a little more definition on your arms. How do you even do it? What you lack in a natural constitution is already being made up for by your will and perseverence! It's really rare to find people like you out there.”

Shit, a genuine compliment about his mental and physical growth! That’s critical damage, how could they be so dirty, using his weakness against him?

Well, if that’s how they’re gonna play it.

Epel held up his two hands in front of him, forming a heart with his fingers.

The Prefect looked unfazed. They just smiled at him, mockingly (Epel’s perception).

Fine. He’s been left with no choice but to pull out his secret weapon.

“I-If you were a fruit, you’d be a FINEAPPLE!” Absolutely humiliating.

But also absolutely effective.

The Prefect’s mask started cracking at its seams.

“F-fineapple? I never thought I'd ever hear you say anything like that- Pfft hehe-“

He'd won, but his face was as red as his namesake as the visage of his Prefect’s tinted cheeks and choked back giggles entered his heart.

On the day of the competition, he lost miserably. The Prefect ended up passing the prize onto him, claiming they were only participating for fun, but he wasn’t really upset.

It’s for the best that no one else sees that face anyways.

Sebek Zigvolt’s sole purpose for living is to serve his young master as a reliable retainer.

In order to be reliable, he must excel in both academics and athletics. Athletics weren’t worth mentioning and he found all academic subjects easy enough.

All except for art, that is.

Making use of a medium to place your creative vision onto a surface sounded simple, yet the product had never lived up to his expectations, creating a habit of casting fire spells to burn the causes of his shame.

After yet another round of sweeping up the ashes of a canvas, he’d decided enough was enough. As unbecoming as it was, a good retainer would ask for help when he really needed it.

And he really really needed it.

His next course of action was to head over to the staff room and inquire with the Art professor for private lessons, only to be told that she had no empty slots in her schedule.

“If you don’t mind learning from another student, I recommend asking the Ramshackle Prefect to tutor you. They’re one of the best among their peers and I’ve seen them offering help to other students during my classes so I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

That magicless human? He’d only ever spoken two or three sentences to them, and he couldn’t stand the uncouth beast following them around every hour of the day, but if they truly were one of the best…

Thus started a deal he would come to regret in the future.

The Prefect wasn’t a bad teacher. They’d gotten him to start on the basics before even thinking of the elaborate portraits he’d always been hellbent on doing.

Once he’d finally grasped the techniques needed, he immediately jumped onto the opportunity to paint his young master, using one of his sacred wallet sized photos as reference. The Prefect stood beside him the whole time, pointing out mistakes and fixing any parts he deemed unsatisfactory.

The only qualm he had was that they’d protested to his idea to paint a wall sized mural, stating that it was too advanced.

With a beautiful portrait in tow, he returned and hung it up near his shrine. It couldn’t compare to his young master’s radiance but it had been the best thing he’d ever painted and he was felling pleased with himself.

An idea came over him. He wouldn’t have been able to do this without their help after all…

And that was what led to him showing up at Ramshackle outside of lesson hours with a small canvas nervously clenched in his hands.

“Human. It didn’t turn out as well without your guidance, but this is a little token of appreciation for your help these past few weeks.” He pushed the portrait into the Prefects hands, ready to accept criticism.

“…”

“Human..?”

“…Pffhehe-, I never expected you to do something so heartfelt for a ‘dumb human’. Heh, I guess I really grew on you!”

“Why are you laughing?! ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME??”

If he had his sword on him he would be unsheathing it right now.

“No, no, thanks man, I love it.”

The brightest and most genuine smile he’d ever seen from them blossomed.

He felt his face burn and his heartbeat rise to an abnormal degree as the Prefect’s warm gaze felt as though it were boring into him.

…I must inquire with Master Lilia what hex this human has placed upon me. Right this instant!