Chapter Text
Sevika was a force on the field - unstoppable, relentless, a powerhouse in every sense of the word. She was the kind of player who made opponents hesitate before getting in her way, and the kind of teammate who turned a losing game into a victory with sheer determination. She had the scars to prove it, the muscle to back it up, and the confidence that made her damn near impossible to ignore.
Except when it came to you.
You, the team manager who kept things running smoothly - ordering equipment, organizing travel schedules, making sure their bruised and battered bodies had ice packs and painkillers ready after every brutal game. The one person Sevika, the unshakable, unbreakable rugby star, could barely string two sentences together around.
It was ridiculous, really. She could trash-talk a 200-pound forward without flinching, could carry half the team on her back if needed, but the second you looked at her with that easy smile, clipboard in hand, asking how her shoulder was doing after last week’s game, Sevika forgot how to function.
She wasn’t the kind of person who talked about things.
Not about her injuries. Not about how exhausted she was. And definitely not about the way she felt whenever you so much as looked at her.
So she kept quiet. It was easier that way.
You, on the other hand, were everywhere - on the sidelines, running the team like a well-oiled machine. But Sevika noticed the small things, too. How you hooked your pen on the collar of your shirt when you weren’t taking notes. The way you chewed your lip when you were deep in thought. The fact that, no matter how chaotic things got, you always checked in on her first.
And that terrified Sevika. Because if she let herself believe you cared more about her than just another player on the team, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from wanting more. So she buried it.
Or at least, she tried.
She had survived another week of avoiding you at all costs. But the universe clearly had other plans.
"Sevika."
Your voice cut through the noise of the locker room, sharp and unrelenting, and she froze mid-step. She considered pretending not to hear you, but based on the look on your face when she turned around, that probably would’ve gotten her killed.
Shit. Caught.
Slowly, she faced you, schooling her expression into something bored, as if you weren’t standing there, arms crossed, looking at her like she was one wrong answer away from getting her ass handed to her.
"Yeah?" she drawled, leaning against the row of lockers with the kind of forced, lazy confidence that was supposed to hide the fact that you scared the shit out of her - and that she was, in fact, internally panicking.
"You’ve been ignoring my messages about your rehab schedule."
Damn. She knew she should’ve responded to those.
"I’ve been busy."
You arched a brow, unimpressed. "Too busy to let me know if your shoulder is still wrecked? That’s funny, because I saw you benching twice your weight in the gym yesterday."
Sevika exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of her neck. "It’s fine."
"It won’t be if you keep being stupid," you shot back, stepping closer.
Sevika tensed.
You were too close - close enough that she could smell your perfume, something soft, completely at odds with the sweat and adrenaline that clung to her skin.
Her brain short-circuited. She was not built for this.
"I - I’ll do the rehab, alright?" she muttered, suddenly very interested in the scuff marks on the floor. "I’ll text you back."
"You better."
You held her gaze for a second longer before stepping back, giving her just enough room to breathe again. But then-
"You do realize we have an away game next week, right?" you said, arms still crossed.
Sevika blinked. "Yeah?"
"And that you’re a starter."
"…Yeah?"
You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose like she was the biggest headache of your entire existence.
"Sevika, we need you at full strength. We're all counting on you." Your voice softened, just barely.
Oh.
Sevika swallowed, her pulse skipping in her throat. You didn’t say it like the coach. Didn’t say it like she was just another player.
You said it like it meant something more, like she meant something.
Fuck.
Her chest tightened, words sticking to the roof of her mouth. "…I’ll take it easy," she finally muttered. "No promises, but - I’ll try."
You tilted your head, considering. Then, after a beat - "That’s the best I’m gonna get, huh?"
"Pretty much."
You sighed, shaking your head, but you were smiling - just a little.
"Fine," you said, turning to leave. But just as you reached the door, you glanced over your shoulder, smirking.
"Also, if you're gonna keep staring at me during practice, at least try to be subtle about it."
Sevika felt her heart stop.
You were already walking away, leaving her standing there like a complete idiot, blood roaring in her ears.
She was so screwed.
---
Sevika couldn’t stop replaying that moment in her head.
You knew she’d been staring. Had you known for a while? Were you just messing with her? Or - worst case scenario - were you dropping a hint because you wanted her to do something about it?
That thought lingered in her head all week, crawling under her skin in a way that no brutal tackle or grueling practice could. She spent every spare second convincing herself she should just make a move already.
And with the away game coming up - two nights out of town, stuck in a hotel together. Perfect opportunity. She could finally say something. Maybe ask you to grab coffee. Or a drink. Or hell, just talk to you like a normal person.
Yeah. She could do this.
Probably...
---
The away game was brutal. Hard hits. Fast plays. The kind of match that left blood on jerseys and bruises on ribs. Sevika played like she had something to prove - not to the opposing team, not to her coach, but to you.
She tackled harder. Ran faster. Every time she did something impressive, she flicked her gaze toward you, trying to catch a reaction.
And she did.
She saw the way you leaned forward when she broke through the defensive line. Saw how your fingers tightened around your clipboard when she slammed an opponent into the ground. You didn’t cheer, but you didn’t have to. Sevika wasn’t an idiot - she knew you were paying attention.
By the time the whistle blew, declaring their victory, she was covered in sweat and aching all over. But she barely felt it.
Because when she looked up, she caught the smallest smile on your lips.
And that? That made it all worth it.
The players were cheering, laughing, slinging arms over each other’s shoulders as they trudged off the field. You were waiting by the locker room entrance, already running through logistics in your head.
"Bus leaves at ten sharp," you reminded them. "Anyone late buys breakfast for the whole team."
Groans and grumbles followed, but Sevika barely registered them. She was already working through her next move.
This was it. Now or never.
---
Sevika liked to take the edge off with a drink after games. But she could handle her alcohol. She always kept her control - anything to keep the world from getting too close.
But tonight? Tonight, she let go.
Because the opportunities had been there. Moments to make a move, to say something, to do something. The bus ride, when you sat next to her, your knee brushing against hers. The hotel check-in, when you nudged her playfully after handing her room key. The post-game celebration, when you stood right there, close enough that she could've just-
But she hadn't.
Every single time, she hesitated, choking on the words before they could leave her mouth.
So, instead of dealing with that fact, she drowned it.
One drink turned into two. Two turned into five and more.
Which was how she found herself outside your hotel room door at 1 a.m., one hand braced against the frame, the other knocking - too soft at first, then a little more insistent when you didn’t answer right away.
When the door finally swung open, you were standing there, sleepy and so unfairly cute, wearing an oversized sleep shirt that hit mid-thigh. Your hair was messy, your voice groggy when you muttered:
"Sevika?"
She swallowed hard. Was she always this warm, or was that the alcohol?
"You gotta help me," she said, blinking slowly.
You sighed, already rubbing your temples. "Are you drunk?"
"My shoulder hurts," she said instead, leaning against the doorframe a little more, tilting her head at you.
"Sevika - "
"Can I come in?" She blinked up at you, purposefully softening her expression, just a little. "Please?"
You exhaled through your nose, stepping aside. "Five minutes."
That was a mistake.
Because the second she was inside, Sevika collapsed onto your bed, rolling onto her side with a dramatic groan.
You sighed, closing the door behind you. "I swear to God, Sevika - "
"Bed’s nice," she muttered into your pillow, voice way too soft for someone usually so gruff. She rolled onto her back, blinking up at you. "You’re nice."
You crossed your arms. "You said your shoulder hurt."
"It does," she whined, stretching her arms over her head, shamelessly putting her toned stomach on display beneath her hoodie. She peered up at you, smirking. "You gonna fix me up or what?"
You shot her a dry look. "You’re so full of shit."
"But you like me," she countered, her grin lazy, lopsided. "Don’t deny it."
You crossed your arms, raising an unimpressed brow. "Are you flirting with me right now?"
She smirked, slow and lazy. "Depends. Is it working?"
"Not even a little."
She pouted - actually pouted - before shifting to one side and patting the empty space next to her.
"Come here."
You scoffed. "Not happening."
"But my shoulder hurts," she whined, drawing out the last word like a sulky child. "And you’re all warm."
"You are not cuddling me, Sevika."
She huffed, rolling onto her stomach, muffling her next words into your blanket. "You’re cruel."
She peeked up at you, her hair falling over her face, her lips set in a dramatic little pout. "Please?"
"No."
She groaned again, rolling onto her back and throwing an arm over her face. "Ugh, fine. I’ll just die from shoulder pain. Right here. In your bed. Tragic, really."
You snorted. "You’ll be fine."
"You don’t know that," she grumbled, dropping her arm just enough to peek at you. "What if I wake up and it’s worse?"
You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Sevika - "
"Just let me hold you for, like, five minutes," she bargained, voice pitiful. "It’s for medical reasons."
"Oh my God."
"Please?" she tried again, giving you the best puppy-dog eyes she could muster.
Not even you can resist those big gray eyes. So you fold. Of course you do. You pointed a finger at her. "You get one minute."
Before you could even finish sitting down, Sevika grabbed your wrist and pulled - not hard, just enough to throw you slightly off balance.
"Sevika - "
But before you could protest, she was already maneuvering you, shifting so that when you finally settled, her head was resting firmly against your chest, arms draped lazily around your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She let out a content sigh, her breath warm against your collarbone.
You stiffened, praying she doesn't notice now hard your heart is pounding against your chest. "This is not happening. Get off."
"Shh." She nuzzled in closer, completely unbothered. "Shoulder hurts. This helps."
"I should’ve just let you suffer. You are so lucky you’re drunk," you muttered, glaring down at her.
She just sighed happily, tucking her face into the crook of your neck. Her grip tightening ever so slightly. "You smell so good," she murmured. "Like…flowers or something."
Your face heated. "Sevika -"
"Soft," she mumbled.
"I swear - "
"Mm." She hummed, already half-asleep.
You should’ve pushed her away. Should’ve made her move to her own bed.
But as her breathing slowed, as her body relaxed against yours, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to.
You just shook your head, turning off the lamp, very aware of the fact that Sevika - stoic, untouchable, intimidating Sevika - was currently curled up on your chest, sighing like she’d never been more comfortable in her life.