#But when you build something over the course of years there's these subtle builds that divorce Then from Now

[coridallasmultipass]

.

[helioooss]

music girlfriend

synopsis: you’re the weirdest loser karina has ever met in her life, but you’re cute. and different. and she might just like you. (loser girlfriend x mean girlfriend core)

w/c: 5k+

warnings: swearing, lots of it; mentions of bullying. like always, read at your own risk :)

a/n: a concept like this was my first ever fic…except that it was way more toxic and horrifying. i’ve rewritten it. but just reading something i wrote over 10 years ago makes me CRINGE

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

yu jimin is a force of nature on campus; the kind of girl people talk about in hushed tones, partly out of awe and partly out of fear. she’s got a reputation that precedes her: mean, cold and walls higher than the burj khalifa itself.

she doesn’t mince words, and her insults almost always land with surgical precision. you don’t cross her unless you’re looking to get burned, and even then, it’s not guaranteed she’ll care enough to react.

people say she’s a heartbreaker, and the rumours aren’t exactly subtle. she’s the type who’s been through a messy breakup or two, you’d never know it by looking at her though.

karina, as everyone liked to call her, doesn’t mess around with vulnerability: she does leather jackets, sharp eyeliner, and a smile that’s more threatening than warm.

most of her relationships don’t last long; people get too close, then quickly realize that they’re only scratching the surface of someone who’s built walls too high to climb.

and, then, there’s you. you’re not even remotely on her radar, like at all. unless you count that one time she stared you down just for coughing in her presence. you remember it vividly: it was a wednesday morning, and you were hurrying to class when you caught a coughing fit through the hall after attempting to chug a tropical juice box in two minutes.

unfortunately, she was passing by at the exact moment you let out a loud, ragged cough, and she stopped dead in her tracks; fixing you with a death glare that never left until you were out of sight.

“are you fucking kidding me?” she yells out as you practically run away. “loser!”

that stare was enough to make you want to crawl into a hole and disappear, and it cemented your fear of her. you’ve avoided her ever since, not that it’s been difficult — she’s too wrapped up in her own world to notice someone like you anyway.

yet, despite the fear and the certainty that she’d tear you to shreds if given the chance, you never miss an aespa gig.

every friday night, you make your way to the dingy dive bar outside of campus where they perform, staking out your usual spot in the far corner with a ginger beer in hand because you couldn’t stand the taste of anything else, but you only ever manage to drink half before losing interest. it’s not about the drink; it’s about watching her own the stage.

you sit there, trying not to make eye contact, trying to be as invisible as possible while simultaneously wishing she would look your way, just once….in a way that isn’t terrifying.

of course she doesn’t notice you. or at least, she pretends not to. she’s too busy flirting with half the room, her eyes sharp and her voice carrying over the crowd like a spell.

your only real friend on campus is yunjin, your roommate, who’s the complete opposite of you —confident, outgoing and friends with pretty much everyone.

she talks about the girls in aespa often, but you never really pay attention because, well, you’re usually too busy trying to complete a lego set or desperately attempting to finish either a boss in wu-kong, or a quest in dead island 2. in desperate times, you turn to call of duty though.

one saturday evening, as you’re halfway through building a lego roller coaster on the kitchen table, zero human interaction, yunjin drops a bombshell.

“hey, by the way, aespa’s coming over tonight,” she announces casually, as if she’s talking about ordering pizza, fingers twirling her hair and all.

you don’t even look up from your seat. “uh-huh, cool.”

“no, like, they’re actually coming here. to our dorm,” she repeats, clearly trying to make sure it sinks in.

you snap a lego piece into place and nod absentmindedly. “yeah, i hear ya.”

yunjin sighs, clearly defeated. “you’re really not listening, are you?”

“nope,” you admit, focusing intently on the roller coaster track.

“can you please get a girlfriend?” she leaves you to yourself and retreats back into the couch, shaking her head at how hopeless you are. “god, this place needs another woman.”

and then, maybe fifteen minutes later, it finally registers. aespa. karina. here. in your dorm. you’re in your toy story pyjamas with fresh spaghetti stains on it.

you freeze mid-piece placement, your eyes going wide as panic washes over you. “wait, did you say aespa is coming here?”

yunjin looks up from her phone, a grin spreading across her face. “finally paying attention, huh? yeah, they’ll be here any minute.”

“jennifer, are you serious?!” you practically yell, scrambling to your feet, knocking over half your lego set in the process.

“very serious,” she says, clearly enjoying your reaction.

you don’t waste any more time. there’s only one thing to do: that’s to get the hell out of there. before yunjin can say another word, you’re darting down the hall, your feet barely touching the floor. you burst into your room and start throwing things into your bag, moving with a speed you didn’t know you had.

“are you really running away?” yunjin calls after you, chuckling.

“yes!” you shout back, shoving random clothes into your bag. “i can’t deal with this!”

“you’re such a wimp!” she teases, but there’s affection in her voice. “you’ll be fine, i promise —“

“absolutely not,” you cut her off as you slam your door shut. you grab your keys, yank open your window and climb out onto the fire escape, your heart pounding.

as you make your escape, you look down and realise you’ve left a trail of legos behind you, tiny colourful pieces marking your pathetic retreat.

meanwhile, aespa finally arrives. winter, the band’s chaotic drummer, is sprawled on your couch, balancing a bottle of cheap beer on her forehead. ningning, the bassist, is rummaging through your snack drawer like she’s on a mission from god. giselle, the lead guitarist, is inspecting your lego collection with an expression that’s equal parts curiosity and confusion. and then there’s karina — leaning against the counter, looking bored and vaguely annoyed, like she’s too cool for this entire dorm (which she probably is).

“so, where’s this lego nerd?” ningning asks, looking around the living room.

“oh, y/n? she…left,” yunjin says with a shrug, trying not to laugh. “like ran away when i said you guys were coming over.”

“scared of us?” winter asks, looking offended. “we’re not that bad.”

“no,” yunjin adds, shaking her head. “she just really sucks at socialising but once you get to a point, she will yap your ears off.”

“it’s karina,” giselle says knowingly, nudging the singer with a grin. “she’s the scary one.”

karina just rolls her eyes, unfazed. “whatever. if she’s that much of a coward, she’s not worth worrying about.”

as she glances around the room, her eyes land on the half-finished lego set on the kitchen table. she moves closer, her gaze shifting from indifferent to slightly intrigued. she picks up a piece, examining it for a moment.

“what’s this supposed to be?” she asks, holding up the stray lego.

“a roller coaster,” yunjin replies, still smiling. “she’s been working on it all day.”

karina raises an eyebrow, setting the piece back down. “interesting.”

“what, the legos or the girl?” giselle teases.

“both,” karina admits, her voice low and thoughtful. and for a moment, just a moment, her usual cold demeanor softens. “she’s kind of weird, isn’t she? fucking coughed on me once and it just set me off.”

“so you know of her?” giselle raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her face.

karina frowns. “what the hell is your deal?”

“definitely,” yunjin cuts them off before they get started. “she’s into video games and all that nerdy shit. has never had a girlfriend in her life, but she’s gorgeous and funny in her own way.”

karina hums, her gaze lingering on the legos. “i’ll be the judge of that.”

meanwhile, you’ve been hiding out at the park not too far from your dorm for a while now, perched awkwardly on a bench — staring blankly at a nearby pigeon that’s scavenging for crumbs. it was the first place you could think of in your panic, but now that the adrenaline is wearing off, your stomach is making very loud complaints.

“great,” you mutter to yourself, pressing a hand to your rumbling belly. you didn’t plan this escape well. you don’t have money on you…just your keys and the few legos you hastily shoved in your pockets.

with a sigh, you finally accept defeat. “screw it,” you mutter, pushing yourself off the bench. “i’ll just sneak in, grab some food, and sneak back out.”

you start making your way back to the dorm, trying to convince yourself that you can avoid those girls altogether. if you’re lucky, they’ll be too busy talking to yunjin or trying to figure out the roller coaster you abandoned on the kitchen table.

approaching your dorm cautiously on your tippy toes, you open door as quietly as possible, sets of laughter audible from the living room — familiar voices that make you both excited and anxious.

you manage to sneak inside unnoticed, keeping your head down as you head straight for the kitchen.

the fridge is glowing right in front of you, immediately grabbing the nearest thing you see: a pack of cheese sticks and a pineapple juice box. you’re so focused on grabbing food and getting out of there that you don’t notice the figure leaning casually against the kitchen counter.

“back so soon, coward?”

you freeze, and slowly turn to find no one else but karina standing there. she’s holding a half-finished lego roller coaster piece, looking at you with a mix of amusement and something else you can’t quite read.

“oh,” you croak out, feeling your face heat up. “i was just…hungry.”

she raises an eyebrow, her expression somewhere between disbelief and mockery. “hungry enough to risk coming back into enemy territory?”

“it’s not enemy territory,” you mutter, peeling the wrapper off the cheese stick awkwardly. “i just panicked.”

karina’s smirk widens. “because of me?”

“maybe,” you admit reluctantly, taking a bite of the cheese stick. “you’re kind of scary, you know.”

“good,” she replies smoothly, stepping closer. “keeps people on their toes.”

“it definitely kept me out the door,” you mumble, trying not to flinch as she moves even closer. you notice she’s still holding the lego piece, twirling it between her fingers like she’s trying to figure it out.

“so,” she says, her voice dropping a notch, “what’s with the legos? seriously. i mean, a roller coaster?”

you glance at the half-built model on the table, feeling both embarrassed and defensive. “what’s wrong with a roller coaster?”

“nothing,” she replies, surprisingly sincere. “it’s just unexpected considering you’re over twenty.”

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

she shrugs, her gaze shifting between you and the legos. “i’ve never met anyone who builds a roller coaster in the middle of a saturday night. alone.”

“what kind of person do i seem like, then?” you challenge, more curious than offended.

“the kind that runs away when someone like me shows up,” karina shoots back, but there’s no malice in her tone; just that familiar teasing edge.

you feel your face heat up again, but you manage to hold her gaze. “well, maybe i just don’t know how to deal with someone like you.”

“and what’s someone like me?” she asks, taking a step closer.

“mean,” you say bluntly, surprising even yourself.

karina blinks, caught off guard. “you coughed on me.”

“you remember that?”

“i felt a splash on my face you sore loser,” she whines, remembering the day so clearly. she watches you for a moment, then she gestures to the roller coaster. “so, are you gonna finish this or what?”

“i was planning to,” you say defensively. “it’s not my fault i got interrupted.”

“by yourself?” she raises an eyebrow at you.

“by you,” you correct, feeling a strange mix of frustration and attraction.

her eyes narrow playfully. “well, i’m here now. so, let’s finish it.”

“you want to help me?” you ask, genuinely surprised.

“why not?” she says, picking up another lego piece. “i’ve got nothing better to do, but come meet everyone first.”

you eventually shuffle into the living room, feeling like you’re walking into a lion’s den. the place is chaos: winter is trying to balance on one leg while shouting about something unintelligible, ningning is tearing into a bag of doritos with alarming enthusiasm, and giselle is inspecting your lego city sets like she’s discovered a hidden temple.

“look who it is!” ningning calls, grinning at you with chip dust on her fingers. “finally decided to join us, huh?”

“i was busy,” you say awkwardly.

“busy hiding,” karina corrects, plopping down next to you on the couch with a casualness that makes your heart rate spike.

“it’s not hiding,” you mutter. “it’s called strategic retreat.”

she shrugs. “sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“she’s literally just a girl,” yunjin chuckles, taking the first sip off her beer before grimacing. “what is this shit?”

winter suddenly flops onto the floor in front of you, looking up with wide eyes. “so, do you build like castles and stuff? or just boring things like a roller coaster?”

you frown defensively. “it’s interesting!”

“wow,” winter says, clearly unimpressed. “that’s so nerdy, i think i just lost 10 cool girl points talking to you.”

you roll your eyes. “i didn’t think you had 10 cool girl points to begin with,” the room erupts in laughter, and you can’t help but feel a small sense of triumph.

“ohhh, she got heat!” giselle hollers, slapping her knee dramatically.

karina leans closer, her voice low enough that only you can hear. “you’re funny.”

you blink, caught off-guard by her close proximity. “uh, thanks?”

“don’t get too excited,” she adds, a bored look on her face. “i still think you’re weird.”

“i know,” you reply simply. “but that’s kind of my thing.”

somehow, yunjin turns the tv on and you end up in an impromptu mario kart tournament, with winter yelling instructions at everyone like an overly aggressive coach.

“take the shortcut, take the fucking shortcut!” she screams, despite the fact that she’s not even playing.

you manage to hold your own, despite ningning’s attempts to distract you by waving doritos in your face and giselle’s shameless attempts to use every dirty trick in the book. you’re neck and neck with karina, who’s surprisingly good and also surprisingly ruthless.

“you play dirty,” you accuse as she sends a blue shell your way, knocking you out of first place.

“you say that like it’s a bad thing,” karina retorts with a frown.

“it is a bad thing,” you insist. “only jerks use the blue shell.”

“guess i’m a jerk, then,” she adds, not looking the least bit sorry.

“you’re the worst,” you say, but there’s no heat behind it. in fact, you’re kind of having fun.

“i’ll take that as a compliment,” she says, flashing you a victorious smile as she crosses the finish line.

“you shouldn’t,” you mutter, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably because karina just smiled at you for the first time in your life.

as the night goes on, the group slowly starts to mellow out. winter has passed out on the floor, snoring softly with an empty can of beer in her hand. ningning and yunjin are sprawled across the couch, humming some random tune and giselle is poking at your lego millennium falcon with a mix of fascination and confusion.

karina is still sitting next to you, her elbow resting on the back of the couch. “so,” she says, breaking the comfortable silence, “you really like legos, huh?”

you nod. “yeah. it’s kind of my thing.”

“i can see that,” she says, glancing around at your impressive collection. “it’s such a loser vibe.”

you raise an eyebrow. “hey, you’re not the first to say that.”

“i’ll make sure i’ll be the last.”

you laugh, feeling a strange warmth in your chest. “well, thanks, i guess. you’re not as scary as i thought you’d be.”

“i can be scary,” she insists, narrowing her eyes for effect. “maybe one day i can build one with you, deal?”

“woah, okay,” you say, grinning back. “a deal it is then.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

since that unexpected night at your dorm, things between you and karina have taken an unexpected turn. it’s not exactly friendship —karina’s still mean, still cold in that familiar way, but there’s a new rhythm to it, a pattern of teasing that you’re surprisingly getting used to.

whenever you pass each other in the hallways, she makes it a point to throw some kind of insult your way, usually with a smirk that’s equal parts mocking and playful.

“hey, loser,” karina calls as you’re trying to balance a stack of books in your arms.

“hi,” you shoot back with a smile, doing your best to sound unfazed.

“nice outfit,” she adds, eyeing your oversized hoodie and faded jeans. “did you rob a fucking thrift store for that look?”

“maybe,” you reply with a grin. “at least i’m consistent!”

she laughs (surprising everyone around her), her eyes flashing with that familiar mix of amusement and something else — something warmer. “still a loser, though.”

“and what about it?” you retort, shaking your head as she walks away, still chuckling.

it becomes a routine over the next few days. each time you cross paths, karina manages to find some new way to tease you. whether it’s about your outfit, your habit of carrying too many books, or your eternal obsession with legos, her comments are always mean-spirited, but in a way that somehow makes you smile because you know she doesn’t mean any of it.

“what, still working on legos?” she asks one morning, catching sight of a lego manual sticking out of your bag.

“yep,” you say brightly. “gotta build something, right?”

“how pathetic,” she drawls, but there’s a spark in her eyes that betrays the insult.

“at least i’m consistent,” you say, giving her a mock salute as you pass by.

not everyone understands the strange dynamic between you and karina. a group of boys in the football team who’ve been eyeing the whole thing decides to get in on the fun — or at least what they think is fun.

one afternoon, as you’re making your way across campus, you hear someone call out, “hey, loser! still building legos? what are you, five?”

you turn, your stomach sinking as you realize it’s not karina, but felix who is doing a poor imitation of her usual teasing. his tone lacks the playful edge, replaced with something harsher, meaner.

“seriously, you’re still into that kid stuff?” jake sneers, towering over you. “what, got nothing better to do with your life?”

you try to laugh it off, shaking your head. “just having fun, guys.”

“yeah, real fun,” taehyun mutters. “no wonder karina only talks to you to make fun of you.”

you flinch at that, the words cutting deeper than you expected. before you can think of a response, someone else steps in.

“hey! back off,” yunjin shouts, marching over with fire in her eyes. “what’s your problem?”

they all look momentarily startled, but jake just shrugs. “we were just joking around, yunjin. it’s not a big deal.”

“well, it’s not fucking funny to me,” yunjin snaps, her voice loud enough to draw attention. “and if i see you messing with her again, you’ll have to deal with me. got it?”

they mumble a few half-hearted apologies before retreating, clearly not expecting to get yelled at in public.

yunjin turns to you, her expression softening. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. “i’m fine.”

your roommate isn’t convinced, knowing you better than anyone else. she pulls you aside and demands to know if this has been happening often. you try to brush it off, insisting it’s just dumb teasing, but she’s not having it.

“i’m telling karina,” she says, her voice firm.

“don’t,” you plead, but she’s already walking off, determined to set things right. “it literally just started today!”

when yunjin finds karina, she doesn’t hold back. “your stupid jock friends have been picking on y/n,” she says bluntly. “all thanks to your teasing.”

karina’s eyes narrow instantly. “what? who?”

“those idiots on the football team,” yunjin explains, crossing her arms. “they think it’s funny to imitate you.”

karina’s expression darkens, a mixture of anger and something else — something protective. “where is she?”

“probably at lunch by now,” yunjin replies. “but karina, don’t just—”

“i’m going,” karina interrupts, her voice leaving no room for argument. she stalks off toward the cafeteria, her jaw set and her steps quick.

you’re sitting alone in the cafeteria, picking at your food and trying not to let the earlier incident get to you, but before you can get too lost in your thoughts, you hear a familiar voice.

“hey assholes,” karina calls sharply, her voice loud enough to turn heads. “got something to say to y/n here?”

you look up, startled, as she strides over to your table with the same jocks from before trailing behind her. they look a lot less cocky now, their heads bowed in a mix of embarrassment and fear.

“uh, we’re sorry,” felix mumbles first, barely making eye contact. “we were just messing around.”

yunjin’s eyes flash dangerously. “yeah? well, don’t. she’s off-limits.”

“seriously,” karina deadpans, her arms crossed - voice cold and mean. “if i see you pricks messing around with her again, you can say goodbye to your scholarships.”

you sit there, stunned and unsure of how to react. you weren’t expecting this; definitely not karina marching in like a one-woman army to defend you.

the boys mumble a few more apologies before scurrying off, leaving you alone with karina and yunjin.

karina lets out a slow breath, her expression still serious. “you okay?”

“i’m fine,” you say, still processing everything. “you didn’t have to do that.”

“yes, i did,” karina replies, her voice softer now. “and…i’m sorry.”

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden apology. “for what?”

“for making it seem like it’s okay to be mean to you,” she says, her tone unusually sincere. “i didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

you shrug, trying to play it off. “it’s fine. i know you were just messing around.”

“still,” she insists, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. “i don’t want you to feel like that. not because of me.”

you manage a small smile, the warmth in her voice easing the lingering hurt. “thanks.”

karina looks almost relieved, her smile returning in full force. “so, we’re good?”

“we’re good,” you confirm, feeling a strange mix of gratitude.

and as karina sits down next to you, the rest of the girls start joining in.

you’re sitting in the crowded lunch hall, trying to enjoy your chips while listening to giselle talk about some wild party they’re planning. as usual, karina is scrolling through her phone like she’s half-bored, half-amused by everything around her.

you pop another chip into your mouth and crunch loudly, completely unaware of how it sounds in the echoing hall.

“jesus, y/n,” karina suddenly blurts out, her voice louder than necessary and back to her usual self. “could you chew any louder? i’m pretty sure they can hear you in the next building.”

you pause mid-chew, feeling a blush creeping up your neck. “sorry,” you mumble, covering your mouth with your hand. “i didn’t realize it was that bad.”

she rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a grin tugging at her lips. “you sound like a woodchipper. it’s a miracle i’m still sitting next to you.”

“you could always move,” you say, trying to sound unfazed.

“nah,” she replies, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “someone’s gotta keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t choke on those chips.”

you catch the faintest smirk on her face, and despite her words, you can’t help but smile. “you’re all heart, karina.”

she shrugs, pretending not to care. “you’re lucky i like charity cases.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

one day, karina manages to pull you out of your room and invites you over at the campus skate park. she’s doing tricks on her board like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you, on the other hand, are struggling just to stand on the board without wobbling like a newborn deer.

“come on, y/n,” she taunts, skating over to you with a smirk. “it’s not that hard. just balance, push off, and roll. even a baby can handle that.”

“easy for you to say,” you mutter, trying not to fall over.

she rolls her eyes but skates closer, reaching out to steady you. “here, let me show you. put one foot here, and the other here,” she instructs, positioning your feet.

you follow her instructions, but as soon as you try to push off, you lose your balance and crash to the ground with a loud thud.

her teasing expression instantly shifts to one of panic, her eyes wide as she crouches down next to you. “oh my god, are you okay? did you break anything?”

“just my dignity,” you groan, rubbing your sore butt.

“idiot,” she mutters, but there’s no heat in her voice. she offers you a hand, pulling you back up with surprising gentleness. “you fucking scared me, you know.”

“didn’t think you cared,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your chest at her reaction.

“well, someone’s gotta keep you from killing yourself,” she says, her tone gruff but her grip lingering on your arm a bit longer than necessary. “just…try not to die, okay? i’m not ready to be a witness to your embarrassing end.”

“don’t worry,” you reply with a grin. “i’ll keep falling just to see that worried look on your face.”

she scoffs, but there’s no hiding the small smile that creeps across her lips. “you’re impossible.”

“and you’re mean,” you say, but there’s no real bite behind it.

“yeah, well,” she says, stepping back onto her board. “i only pick on the ones i like, loser.”

you watch as she skates away, your heart doing an odd little flip. this wasn’t good.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it’s a rare moment of downtime in aespa’s usual whirlwind of rehearsals and chaos. the four of them are lounging in the practice room, sipping on energy drinks and half-heartedly tuning their instruments. giselle’s strumming random chords on her guitar, winter’s scrolling through her phone and ningning’s lounging on the floor, doing absolutely nothing.

karina’s leaning against the wall, her eyes distant and her expression unusually serious. she’s been quieter than usual lately, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by the others.

“yo karina,” giselle suddenly says, breaking the silence. “what’s up your ass? you’re freaking me out.”

“nothing,” karina replies quickly, a little too quickly. “why are you always up my ass?”

“oh, please,” winter scoffs, looking up from her phone. “this is about y/n, isn’t it?”

her face stiffens, and she tries to play it off with an eye roll. “why would it be about her?”

“uh, maybe because you’ve been obsessed with her for weeks?” ningning chimes in, smirking. “seriously, the way you look at her, it’s like you’re trying to set her on fire with your eyes.”

the girl under interrogation’s cheeks flush slightly, but she keeps her expression neutral. “i just think she’s funny, that’s all.”

“sure,” giselle says, drawing out the word like she’s speaking to a child. “and i think jacob elordi is funny too.”

she glares at her, but it’s half-hearted. “you don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.”

“really? bullshit,” ningning continues, sitting up and crossing her legs. “it’s obvious you like her. the teasing, the constant calling her a loser, that thing where you get all weirdly protective of her? classic crush behavior.”

karina scowls, hating how transparent she apparently is. “she’s interesting.”

“interesting, huh?” winter teases, raising an eyebrow. “interesting enough to make you lose your cool every time she’s around.”

“whatever,” she mutters, turning away slightly. but her attempt at indifference only makes the others laugh harder. “fuck off.”

“you know, y/n’s actually not bad-looking,” ningning comments casually. “she’s kind of cute in that nerdy way.”

“if she cut her hair a little and maybe wore something that wasn’t a hoodie three sizes too big,” giselle adds, grinning, “she’d probably have all the girls swooning.”

karina’s jaw tightens at that, her mood shifting from defensive to something closer to possessive. “she doesn’t need to change anything,” she says flatly.

“ohhh,” winter coos, catching the change in her tone. “you know, i actually heard a couple of girls in my class talking about how cute y/n is. one of them even said she’d ask her out if she got the chance.”

“what?” karina snaps, her eyes narrowing. “who said that?”

winter grins, delighted by karina’s reaction. “oh, i don’t know. just some girls, but they sounded pretty serious.”

she stands up abruptly, her whole body tense. “which class is this?”

“whoa, chill,” giselle laughs, her eyes wide with amusement. “you’re not actually jealous, are you?”

her expression is a mix of annoyance and something deeper. “i just don’t like the idea of people trying to mess with her, that’s all. she’s my friend.”

“sure,” ningning says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “and i’m sure this sudden urge to go find her has nothing to do with jealousy.”

“whatever,” karina mutters again, already heading for the door. “i’ll be back.”

“where are you going?” winter calls after her, though she’s pretty sure she knows the answer.

“to make sure y/n’s okay,” she replies over her shoulder, her voice leaving no room for argument.

the other members burst into laughter as she disappears down the hall, clearly unable to resist the pull she feels toward you.

she makes her way to the building where she knows your class is held. she doesn’t exactly know which room you’re in, but that doesn’t stop her from pacing the hallway, her eyes darting to every door like she’s on a mission.

she leans against the wall, trying to play it cool, but her mind is racing. the thought of someone else being interested in you makes her blood boil in a way she doesn’t fully understand. it’s not like she’s made her own intentions clear, but the idea of you with someone else, it just doesn’t sit right.

she waits outside the classroom building for what feels like an eternity, her patience wearing thin. students start filtering out, and karina’s eyes scan each face, looking for you. she feels a strange mix of anticipation and anxiety, and she hates it.

finally, she spots you. you’re walking out with your head down, clutching a book to your chest. when you look up and see karina, your eyes widen in surprise.

“karina?” you ask, stopping in your tracks. “what are you doing here?”

she shrugs, trying to act casual despite the fact that she’s clearly been waiting for you. “just passing by.”

“really?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “you’re ‘just passing by’ outside my class?”

karina scratches the back of her neck, looking uncharacteristically awkward. “maybe i wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna trip over on the way to your next class.”

“are you serious?”

her expression shifts slightly, her usual confidence faltering. “maybe.”

you can’t help but smile, a mixture of disbelief and amusement on your face. “you’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“i know, i’ll walk you to your class anyways.”

and for the first time, there’s no teasing, no sarcasm, just a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it’s a lazy afternoon, and you and karina are sitting on the floor of your dorm, legs stretched out as you dive into a bag of cheetos.

yunjin left the room to run errands, leaving you and karina in rare company. she came over to drop something off to yunjin, band stuff they said, even though your roommate could not be in one for the life of her.

“these are so good,” you mumble, licking the orange dust off your fingers as you looked at the screen in front of you.

karina watches you with an expression that’s equal parts disgusted and fascinated. “you’re a mess,” she comments, her tone as dry as ever.

“thanks,” you reply cheerfully, taking another handful of cheetos. but as you reach for your drink, you accidentally brush karina’s arm with your cheetos-stained fingers.

she flinches dramatically, her eyes wide. “oh my god, you did not just touch me with those filthy fingers.”

you stare at her, half-amused, half-embarrassed. “oh, come on. it’s not like it’s toxic waste.”

“might as well be,” she snaps, though there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes. “look at what you did!” she adds, pointing at the faint cheeto dust now smeared on her porcelain skin.

“sorry,” you laugh, grabbing a tissue and trying to wipe it off, only for karina to pull back like you’re trying to brand her.

“don’t touch me!”

“you’re such a drama queen,” you say, still laughing.

she scowls, but there’s no real anger behind it. “one of these days, you’re going to have to find someone else to hang out with.”

“and one of these days, you’re gonna admit you like hanging out with me, cheetos fingers and all,” you retort.

“don’t push your lock, loser,” her eyes narrow, but she can’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “come to our gig this weekend, please?”

you shook your head - unfortunately, you had plans. “i can’t, i promised mina i’d join her party tonight.”

and within a second, karina inches closer towards you — burning holes through your face. “mina? party? what?”

“oh, not that kind of party,” you don’t pick up on the way her tone changes. “it’s a chat party, we’re gonna play games all night and —“

“who is this mina?” her tone shifts and you don’t miss the way she clenches her jaw. “is she a girl from one of your classes?”

“she’s from japan, really cool and she sings too, sometimes she sends me legos from japan.”

“no, you’re coming to our gig,” she shakes her head, not wanting to hear another girl’s name coming out of your mouth. “and that’s final, yes?”

“yes, okay,” the directness catches you off guard but it doesn’t take long to convince you, specially if karina and her dirty stares are involved. plus, you could always join mina’s party later on.

a strange mix of emotions start brewing in your stomach — guilt, excitement and something you can’t quite name. you’ve never been good at reading people, and with karina, everything feels even more complicated. you’ve never liked anyone before, not like this, and the whole thing is so new, so raw. you don’t know if her insistence is just about wanting you in the crowd, or if it means something more.

you’re still trying to process it when karina stands up, stretching lazily. “i should probably get going,” she says, grabbing her jacket from the back of the couch. “ningning’s angry spamming me, i’m late to practice.”

“yeah,” you reply, watching her as she heads for the door. “have fun.”

“can i come over again later?”

you smile, feeling a heap of butterflies down your stomach. “anytime, jimin.”

she gives you one last, lingering look before she leaves, and you’re left alone in the suddenly too-quiet space, your mind racing with questions you don’t know how to answer as you head back to your room and turn your console on.

yunjin returns a while later, as your exactly three hours deep into disco elysium, looking a bit worn out but still cheerful. “hey, i’m back,” she calls, tossing her keys on the table before popping her head in your room. “did i miss anything?”

you hesitate for a moment, then decide to just spill it. “karina invited me to their gig this weekend.”

her eyebrows shoot up. “and? are you going?”

“yeah,” you admit, feeling a mix of excitement and confusion as you put the controller down. “she was really keen about it.”

she studies you for a moment, then sits down next to you, her expression serious. “what’s going on, y/n?”

“i just don’t get her,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “one minute she’s mean, the next she’s nice. and now she’s acting all weird about me going to her gig. and she comes here to hang out with me but i know she’s a heartbreaker and i don’t want —“

“she likes you,” yunjin cuts you off bluntly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“but what does that even mean?” you ask, feeling a surge of frustration. “i’ve never…don’t know how to deal with this. why?”

“it means she wants you there because she cares about you,” she explains patiently. “you know you’re a catch right? she even gets jealous when other girls are around you.”

“jealous?” you repeat, the word feeling foreign in this context. “how?”

“yes, jealous,” yunjin confirms, nodding. “karina’s not used to feeling like she’s not the center of someone’s attention, specially yours.”

you let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping. “this is all so confusing. i’ve never liked anyone before. i don’t know what to do.”

“you don’t have to do anything,” yunjin reassures you, her voice gentle. “just be honest with yourself. if you like her, let yourself like her. don’t overthink it.”

“easier said than done,” you mutter.

“i know,” yunjin agrees, her expression sympathetic. “but maybe this is one of those things you have to figure out as you go.”

you nod slowly, feeling a small sense of comfort in her words. “yeah, maybe.”

and as you sit there, replaying the conversation with karina in your mind, you realise that yunjin might be right. maybe this is something you have to navigate one step at a time, no matter how uncertain it feels. because despite everything, one thing is clear: you want to be there, even if you’re not entirely sure what it means.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the weekend arrives faster than you expect, and soon enough, you’re standing outside the venue for aespa’s gig. the usual nerves are there, made worse by the fact that this time, karina explicitly asked you to be here. yunjin’s with you, chatting excitedly about the show as you both head inside. your mind is elsewhere, tangled up in all the uncertainty that karina’s invitation has stirred up.

“you okay?” yunjin asks, nudging your shoulder as you both make your way to the backstage area.

“yeah,” you lie, forcing a smile. “nervous, i guess.”

“don’t worry,” she reassures you. “it’s gonna be fun, at least you’re finally with me instead of that musty corner.”

you try to take her words to heart, but as you step backstage, a new wave of anxiety hits. the chaotic energy of the crew prepping for the show is overwhelming, and you can’t seem to spot karina anywhere.

“she’s probably getting ready,” yunjin suggests, noticing your fidgeting.

“maybe,” you mutter, but something feels off.

you’ve been backstage before, but never like this. tonight, it’s different because you know karina specifically wants you here, which only makes her absence feel sharper.

after a few more minutes pass and there’s still no sign of her, you make a decision. “i’m gonna go look for her,” you tell the girls.

“want me to come with?” winter ask, looking back at you from the dressing cabinet.

you shake your head. “no, it’s fine. i’ll be quick.”

you wander through the backstage area, dodging equipment and crew members as you make your way toward the quieter sections.

that’s when you spot them: you’re certain it’s karina, standing in a dark corner with another girl, their heads close together.

a sinking feeling forms in your chest. something about the way they’re standing feels too intimate, like you’re intruding on a private moment. you can’t make out their conversation, but then you hear your name.

“y/n? really?” the girl scoffs, her voice dripping with disdain. “you’re actually interested in that pathetic loser?”

you recognise the voice now — it’s soyeon, karina’s ex. the one you’d seen flirting with karina before she even knew you, she was the ex.

karina’s voice is low, almost defensive. “she’s not a loser.”

“could’ve fooled me,” soyeon replies, her tone harsh. “come on, karina, you know she’s just a rebound.”

you feel your face flush, a mix of anger and humiliation burning in your chest. part of you wants to step forward, to confront them both, but your feet feel like they’re stuck to the ground.

then, suddenly, soyeon closes the gap between them, her lips crashing against karina’s. for a moment, she doesn’t pull away. instead, she seems to hesitate, caught between resisting and giving in.

that’s all it takes for you to turn and leave, your heart pounding in your chest. you push your way through the backstage crowd, barely registering yunjin calling after you. everything feels like a blur, like the world has tilted sideways and you’re the only one struggling to stay upright.

the whispers warned you — she’s a heartbreaker who still can’t get over her hot ex. and you really should’ve listened.

you’re back at your dorm before you even know how you got there. you slump onto your bed, trying to make sense of what you just saw. your emotions are a confusing mess of hurt, anger and a crushing sense of betrayal.

all the uncertainty you’d been feeling, all the questions you’d tried to answer, now feel pointless.

you’re not sure how much time passes as you sat in front of your tv, mina and some of your friends are on the other end of the screen, but then there’s a loud knock at the door.

“y/n! open up!” it’s karina’s voice and she sounds angry — knocks echoing throughout the quietness.

“damn y/n,” mina chuckles through your headset. “who did you piss off?”

“i fucking know you’re in there, don’t be a coward!” the knocks are louder this time and you’re almost certain she put some cracks on that fragile door.

you hesitate for a moment, but then you take the device off and stand up as you heave a sigh. “i’ll be back guys, won’t be long,” you hear a bunch of ‘ooooh’s’ from them before pause.

with hesitation, your expression is blank as you walk towards the door. as soon as the lock is twitched open, you stumble back as karina pushes her way in, her face flushed and her eyes filled with anger.

“why did you not show up? be fucking honest with me,” she demands, her voice sharp. “i told you i wanted you there — did that not matter to you?”

“yeah, well,” you say, your voice colder than you intended, refusing to meet her eyes. “i had a good reason. i really thought i knew you.”

she frowns, clearly confused. “y/n, look at me. what are you talking about?”

“i fucking saw you,” you clench your fists, the bitter words tumbling out before you can stop them. “back there, with soyeon. i heard what she said and then you kissed her.”

her eyes widen, and for a moment, she looks genuinely shocked. “wait, you were there?”

“obviously,” you chuckly bitterly, crossing your arms. “or do you just make out with your ex in front of your toys and rebounds at every gig?”

karina’s face hardens, her anger replaced by a mix of guilt and frustration. “it wasn’t like that.”

“oh, really?” you challenge, looking her in the eye this time. “because it sure looked like that from where i was standing.”

“she came onto me,” she insists, her voice desperate now. “i didn’t want it, y/n. you have to believe me, you mean so much more to me than you think.”

“i don’t have to do anything,” you say, feeling a surge of hurt rise up again. “you asked me to come and then you turned around and kissed her. how am i supposed to believe anything you say?”

she runs a hand through her hair, her frustration evident. “it was a mistake, okay? i was just caught off guard.”

“well, congratulations,” you say, your voice breaking slightly. “you definitely caught me off guard too. had everyone fooled.”

“please, y/n, you have to understand. i didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she takes a step closer, her expression pleading.

“it’s my fault for believing something. tell me, was there a bet between you and the band too?” you ask, pushing her hand away as she tries to touch you. “how much was i worth?”

“what are you saying?” she asks, her voice almost panicked. “i do like you, way much more than i’d like to admit. and god, there are no fucking bets involved, okay? i fucked up and that’s it.”

“i don’t know if i can do this,” you admit, your chest tightening with the words. “i don’t know how to deal with all of this — specially not when you’re…clearly not on the same level as me.”

karina’s face crumples slightly, but she tries to hold it together. “y/n, i’m sorry. i really am. i don’t know why i did it. i know i’m a mess, but i don’t want to lose you.”

“you might have already,” you say, feeling tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but refusing to let them fall. “but it was my fault for letting myself believe you could like me.”

“don’t say that,” she whispers, her voice filled with a kind of desperation you’ve never heard before. “i like you, of course i like you.”

you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “i need time, karina. i need to figure out what this means for me.”

she remains quiet for a minute, and you wish you can read what’s going through her mind but her expression softens and she nods slowly. “okay. i’ll give you time. just don’t shut me out completely, please.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the days after the argument are rough, to say the least. you do everything you can to avoid karina —ducking into classrooms when you spot her in the hallway, sitting at different lunch tables, even changing your usual route to class.

the hurt and confusion from that night still linger, like a bruise that refuses to heal. you thought seeing her with soyeon would make things clearer, that it’d help you move on, but instead it’s just left you feeling hollow.

karina tries to reach out, of course. you get texts, missed calls, and the occasional knock on your dorm door that you pointedly ignore. the messages range from desperate pleas to frustrated demands, but you’re too tired to engage, too confused to even know where to begin.

“you can’t avoid her forever, you know,” yunjin says one evening as she flops down next to you on the couch.

“i’m doing a pretty good job of it so far,” you mumble, keeping your eyes fixed on your phone screen, pretending to be engrossed in bitlife.

“seriously, y/n,” she continues, her tone more concerned now. “you need to talk to her. she’s been a wreck. a stupid wreck.”

“oh, so now i’m supposed to feel bad for her?” you snap, the words more bitter than you intended.

she sighs, rubbing her temples. “no, but shutting her out completely isn’t going to fix anything. i know you’re hurt, and you have every right to be, but maybe there’s more to this than you realise.”

“more?” you ask incredulously. “like what? she kissed her ex. right after telling me she wanted me at the gig and leading me on. turns out, i was another rebound!”

“i get it, but people make mistakes. and from what the others told me, karina really does care about you and she’s really trying to show it.”

“well, she’s doing a great job of showing the opposite,” you bite back, leaning back into the couch.

“you need to hear her out,” she insists. “even if it’s just to get closure.”

“yeah, maybe,” you mumbled. “can we not talk about this anymore please?”

the next day, you’re in the middle of a study session in the library when giselle, winter and ningning appear, sliding into the chairs across from you. you glance up, already dreading what’s coming.

“we need to talk,” ningning says, her voice gentle but firm.

you sigh, closing your textbook. “if this is about karina, i don’t want to hear it.”

“too bad,” giselle replies, folding her arms. “because we’re not here for your approval. we’re here to make you face reality.”

you glare at her, but there’s no real anger behind it, just exhaustion. “and what’s reality, exactly?”

“reality is that karina’s a mess without you,” winter speaks, her eyes sincere. “she’s been snapping at everyone, barely talking to us. it’s like she doesn’t know how to function.”

“and you think that’s my problem?” you ask, trying to sound indifferent.

“yes,” giselle answers bluntly. “because whether you want to admit it or not, you care about her.”

“i don’t know if i do anymore,” you confess, your voice small. “look, my world was completely fine before she even knew who i was. i know i’ll be fine without her.”

“you don’t know that,” winter says softly. “and she knows she messed up. she’s trying to fix it, but she can’t if you won’t even talk to her.”

you feel a pang of guilt at their words, but the hurt from seeing karina and soyeon still lingers, like a wound that hasn’t scabbed over yet. “i don’t know if i can forgive her.”

“no one’s saying you have to forgive her right away,” ningnint replies, her tone surprisingly gentle. “talk to her. let her explain.”

“i’ll think about it.”

giselle puts a hand on top of yours, squeezing it gently. “thank you, y/n.”

later that night, you’re alone in your room, staring at your phone. karina’s last text is still on the screen: “please, y/n. just talk to me. i miss you.”

you close your eyes, trying to fight the urge to respond. everything about this situation feels messy and complicated, and you hate it. you’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and you don’t know how to navigate it. the push and pull of your emotions is exhausting and you’re torn between wanting to hear her out and wanting to protect yourself from more hurt.

as you sit there, you hear yunjin’s words echoing in your head: “you need to hear her out, even if it’s just to get closure.”

you let out a frustrated sigh, tossing your phone onto the bed. you know she’s right, and deep down, you know that ignoring karina isn’t going to make the pain go away.

the next morning, you wake up with a sense of determination you haven’t felt in days. you’re not sure if you’re ready to forgive karina, but you know you can’t keep running from her either.

you spend most of the day debating when and where you’ll finally confront karina. your nerves are on edge, your thoughts a jumbled mess of everything you want to say, but also everything you’re afraid to admit.

after your last class, you find yourself making your way toward the music building. it’s the only place you’re sure she will be — probably rehearsing with the others, maybe alone. the whole walk there, your heart hammers in your chest, and you can’t stop fidgeting with the strap of your bag.

you’ve rehearsed a thousand things to say in your head, but as you approach the familiar practice room, your mind goes blank. for a brief moment, you consider turning around and leaving. but before you can talk yourself out of it, the door swings open.

karina stands there, her eyes widening in surprise. for a second, neither of you speaks.

“y/n,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. her eyebrow twitches when she notices your shaking hands. “hi, is everything okay?”

you swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “can we talk?”

“yeah,” she says immediately, stepping aside to let you in. the room is empty, dimly lit, and filled with the lingering sound of guitar chords from earlier practice.

you both take a seat on the edge of the small stage, the air heavy with tension. karina’s gaze is cautious, like she’s afraid of making the wrong move.

“i know i don’t have the right to ask anything from you,” she starts, her voice low and raw. “but i really need you to hear me out.”

you nod slowly, bracing yourself for whatever she’s about to say.

“that night,” she continues, her eyes filled with regret, “i messed up. i let soyeon get too close, and i didn’t stop her soon enough. but i swear, y/n, it didn’t mean anything. it was a stupid moment of weakness.”

you feel a twinge of hurt, but you try to stay composed. “then why didn’t you pull away sooner?”

she looks down, as if the weight of your question is too much to bear. “i don’t know,” she admits, her voice breaking slightly. “maybe it’s because i was scared of how real things were getting with you. or maybe it’s because i’ve always been too good at sabotaging anything good in my life.”

“so, what am i supposed to do?” you ask, feeling a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “just pretend it never happened?”

“no,” karina says quickly, shaking her head. “i don’t expect that. i want you to know that you’re not just another person to me. you’re not a rebound, and you’re not a distraction.”

you take a deep breath, trying to process her words. “then what am i, karina? because honestly, i have no idea where i stand with you.”

her eyes soften, voice quieter than before. “you’re the first person who’s made me want to try. really try. and that scares the hell out of me, but i don’t want to lose you.”

you sit there for a moment, the words hanging heavy in the air. this whole situation is still new, still confusing, but her sincerity feels more genuine than anything you’ve felt from her before.

“i’m scared too,” you finally admit, your voice barely audible. “i don’t know how to do this, karina. i’ve never liked anyone before. not like this.”

her expression softens further, and she reaches out hesitantly, her hand stopping just short of yours. “we don’t have to figure it all out right now. i just want to be honest with you. and if you’re willing to give me another chance, i promise i’ll do better.”

“okay,” you say quietly, finally meeting her gaze. “one chance, karina. that’s all you get.”

her eyes light up with a mix of relief and something else, something that looks a lot like hope. “i won’t mess it up. i swear.”

you manage a small smile, feeling a tiny weight lift from your chest. “we’ll see.”

the days that follow are tentative, filled with awkward moments and intimate conversations. karina is different now — not softer, exactly, but more attentive. she tries to be less mean in her teasing, though the familiar edge still slips out sometimes.

“nice shoes,” she says one morning as you’re both walking to class. “you finally decide to wear something that doesn’t look like it came from a dumpster?”

you roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite in her words anymore. “you’re still terrible at compliments.”

“working on it,” she admits with a smile.

the rest of the girls notice the shift too, specially yunjin, who seems pleased with the progress.

“told you it’d work out,” she says one evening as you both sit in your dorm, watching another episode of the witcher.

“we’re not exactly there yet,” you warn, but there’s a small smile on your lips.

“well, you’re getting there,” yunjin replies confidently. “and that’s enough for now.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

then comes another gig, this time with less anxiety and more anticipation. you’re backstage again, but this time, karina finds you before the show starts.

“you came,” she says, a genuine smile breaking across her face.

“of course i did,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “i said i’d give you a chance, didn’t i?”

her eyes soften, and she reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “and i’m not wasting it.” as she heads for the stage, she throws a glance over her shoulder. “stay close this time.”

when the music starts, you find yourself smiling, the weight of the past few weeks finally beginning to lift. you don’t have all the answers yet, but for now, just being here feels like enough.

the end.

[internetdaddy98]

The Beginning Of The End

Previous | Next [Series Masterlist] Pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!SeniorResident!Reader Summary: A look into the evolution of Y/N’s relationship with Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, over the course of her three years in residency as she begins her fourth year as a senior resident. Their unspoken connection has simmered under the surface, building tension over shared glances, subtle touches, and buried feelings,  with their emotional stalemate still unresolved, but undeniably present. 

Word Count: 1.8 K Content Warning: Mentions of child death, medical procedures, panic attacks, unresolved tension, will most likely be medically inaccurate at times. 

You have been doing this dance for three years now. You had met Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch on your first day of residency at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. Fresh-faced and full of childish hope. Dr. Robinavitch had taken a stern approach when it came to your learning, and although it stung for a while, you understood it came with the territory. You knew what people assume when they saw you, you stood at just 4'11", but what you lacked in height, you more than made up for in quiet tenacity. Your brown eyes, large and observant, held a kind of quiet sorrow, like someone who had seen too much too young, but never stopped hoping for better. Your medium-toned skin often had a warm flush from running around the hospital, but you carried yourself with a kind of composed stillness, as if the chaos of the ER never quite penetrated the shield you'd learned to hold up.

You had a slight frame, graceful and almost delicate in your movements, what Dr. Robby once offhandedly described as “pretty, dainty little thing who believes in rainbows and butterflies.” But he’d also learned, sometimes the hard way, that beneath your soft voice and gentle manner, you could be immovable when it counted. You didn’t raise your voice often, but when you did, the entire room listened.

In scrubs, you often looked like a med student playing dress-up, but anyone who underestimated you regretted it fast. You weren’t the type to demand space; you simply claimed it with quiet skill and calm certainty.

Despite the barriers you put up, your compassion was obvious in the way you held a patient’s hand, the way you comforted families, and the way you never once treated anyone like just another chart. You loved deeply, especially your family, though you rarely talked about yourself. Whatever trauma shaped you, you carried it like a scar stitched into your core, quiet, but unignorable.

You had earned Robby’s respect fast once he saw past what you looked like and learned about who you were as a doctor. You had thought of Dr. Robby as a good mentor, but three years of learning about each other and learning from him had developed something between you that was unspoken, buried deep in its roots beneath the surface.

It had become never-ending game of chess where neither of the players was ready to admit defeat or their feelings. Stolen glances, small touches and unspoken truths that have been bouncing between you two for the past year, and although you both thought you were subtle, half the ER were waiting for the ticking time bomb to go off. Your relationship had shifted fast one day during your third year. It had been a brutal shift, twelve hours of back-to-back traumas, a code blue that ended with a mother screaming into her child’s chest, and the guilt of a missed diagnosis that wasn’t yours, but still felt like it belonged to you. The kind of shift that strips the bones clean.

You held it together until the locker room.

No one saw you slip inside. You were good at that, disappearing when your emotions started to boil too close to the surface. You perched on the bench, elbows on your knees, breath coming short and sharp like your lungs had shrunk.

Your vision tunneled.

Your chest ached.

You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to will it away, but the past had already caught up, flashes of too-bright lights, sirens, someone calling your name while your voice refused to work. You weren’t here anymore. You were there, small and helpless and bleeding on the inside.

You didn’t hear the door open.

“Sheri?”

You flinched hard, jerking upright. Robby froze when he saw your face, your eyes wide and unfocused, chest rising too fast.

He stepped in slowly, voice gentling. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s just me.”

You tried to speak. Nothing came out. Your hands were shaking. Damn it, you thought, not here. Not in front of him.

But he didn’t comment. Didn’t tease. He crossed the room like he was walking toward a wounded animal, careful, steady.

“Can I come closer?”

You nodded, barely.

He crouched in front of you, not touching, just anchoring you with his presence. “You’re having a panic attack,” he said quietly. “You’re safe. You’re here at the hospital. It's over. Just breathe with me, okay? In through your nose.”

You mirrored him, trying to follow the rhythm of his breaths. His voice was low and grounding, like the rumble of a storm you trusted not to hit you.

“Out through your mouth.”

You did. Once. Twice. A third time. The air started to reach your lungs again.

“There you go,” he murmured. “Good. That’s good.”

Without thinking, you leaned forward, maybe just to stay tethered, maybe because the gravity between you pulled you there, and he caught you gently, his hand slipping behind your back. You felt his breath near your ear, his chest against yours.

Too close. Too much.

But you didn’t move.

And neither did he.

The moment stretched, quiet and heavy. His hand didn’t leave your back. Your forehead nearly rested against his shoulder, and the smell of his cologne, faint, clean, familiar, hit you in a way it never had before.

You pulled back at the same time he did, eyes catching. Locked.

The air changed.

Not like before, not in the safe, platonic way. Something crackled between you. Something dangerous. New.

You could feel his breath on your lips. His eyes flicked there, just for a second. Just long enough to light your nerves on fire.

He blinked and stood up fast, breaking the contact like it had burned him. “You okay?”

You nodded, but your voice still didn’t work. Your heart was pounding for an entirely new reason now.

“Good,” he said, running a hand through his hair, suddenly all sharp edges and avoidance. “I’ll give you a minute.”

And then he was gone, leaving you in the silence, staring at the door and trying to convince yourself it hadn’t just happened. That your skin wasn’t buzzing. That his touch hadn’t been gentle in a way that meant something.

You had no idea what the hell had just shifted between you. And for a long time after, you sat there in the stillness, breathing finally even, hands steady, but your skin still tingled from where his fingers had touched you, and your thoughts refused to fall back into place.

Something had changed.

Something that neither of you could pretend hadn’t happened.

After the panic attack, things didn’t go back to normal.

At least, not completely.

The next shift, Robby didn’t mention it. He was the same as ever, brisk, dryly sarcastic, sharp-eyed. But something about the air between you had shifted. The way he looked at you lingered just a breath longer. The way he stood beside you now left less space. Not suffocating, never that, but close enough that you could feel it.

And you told yourself it was nothing. Just him being kind. Just the aftershock of a bad night. Just you, reading too much into a silence that stretched a little too long.

But then came the day he reached past you for a chart and his hand brushed yours, and he didn’t pull away fast enough.

The morning he handed you a coffee, your order without asking.

The way he touched your elbow when you moved past him in, like he had to, like it was muscle memory.

Small things. Nothing obvious. Nothing anyone would question, no one except you. Because you noticed. Because your body noticed before your mind could catch up.

You weren’t foolish. You knew what you were to him. A resident. A student. Another junior duckling trailing behind him. And yet, it didn’t feel that simple anymore. It hadn’t felt simple since that day in the locker room, when your panic broke through the surface and he held you together with nothing but steadiness and silence.

You were careful after that. He was, too.

But carefulness didn’t erase the tension. If anything, it sharpened it.

A glance across a the ER became something charged. A moment of eye contact during a case presentation lasted a fraction too long. When you laughed at one of his dry little jabs, his mouth would twitch like he regretted making you smile. When you succeeded, he praised you with words that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

It became a game. A never-ending match between two people who refused to admit defeat. You were always one move behind him, then suddenly ahead. He’d say something biting, and you’d parry with soft defiance. You started calling him out more in rounds, in front of junior residents, even in front of attendings. Not disrespectfully, but with a kind of quiet precision he couldn’t ignore. And he didn’t shut you down. He liked it. You could tell.

Somewhere along the line, you stopped needing his approval. You had it. You knew that now. What you craved instead was something less nameable, something that sat beneath your skin and hummed at the base of your spine every time you were near him.

Late nights turned into long silences filled with everything neither of you would say.

There was the night he leaned against the nurses’ station at 3 a.m., watching you work a code from across the room with something close to pride in his eyes.

The time you stitched a laceration on a pediatric patient with trembling hands after a rough trauma, and he rested a hand on your shoulder when it was over, brief, but grounding.

The time you laughed too freely at something he said, and he looked away too fast, like it hurt him to hear it.

You thought maybe he was fighting it. Whatever it was between you. And you hated yourself for hoping he’d lose.

Because the truth was, somewhere between the mentorship and the medicine, the rivalry and the long hours, you had fallen in love with him. Not in the sweet, safe, storybook way. No. It was a quiet, painful kind of thing. The kind that lived in your chest like a secret, blooming and aching all at once.

You never told anyone. You didn’t need to.

Half the ER was watching the dance. Waiting for the moment someone slipped.

But he never did. And neither did you.

By the end of your third year, you had become known for your calm presence, your steady hands, and your ruthless efficiency. Your charts were tight. Your instincts were sharper. You could run a trauma code with one look at your team and a steady tone.

But behind all of it was that tension. That thread between you and Robby that neither of you had cut.

And as your final third-year shift wound to a close, the kind of rainy, unremarkable Thursday that smelled like bleach and burnt coffee, you caught him watching you across the break room, his gaze unreadable, jaw tight.

And by the time you walked into the ER for your first shift as a Senior resident with a new badge, and a team of interns trailing behind you, you felt the shift again.

This was your year now.

But it still started with him. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your honor, I love my sad boi. Let me cook

[aleksatia]

🖤 Sylus – Five Years Later

The first in a series of stories exploring MC’s return after five years of silence. Others are coming soon — links will be added as they’re published.

Original ask that sparked this continuation.

CW/TW: emotional whiplash, estranged parent dynamics, mentions of past abandonment, grief & regret, yelling / intense arguments, emotional manipulation (mild-to-moderate), parental guilt, references to alcoholism (brief), weapon mention (non-violent context, antique firearm), implied past trauma While inspired by the original characters and lore of the game, this is a personal interpretation. Some aspects of character behavior, relationships, or world-building may differ from canon — especially given the five-year time gap and the impact of traumatic events. Consider it an alternate emotional timeline, shaped by growth, grief, and what-ifs.

Rafayel | Caleb | Zayne | Xavier (coming soon)

(He never lets go. Not really. So when the world bends just enough for their paths to cross again—he grabs the thread like a man who’s been drowning for five goddamn years.)

The scent shouldn’t have hit him like that.

Bergamot and peach — too specific to be coincidence, too cruel to be real. It lanced through the mall’s artificial air, slicing straight into the part of him that had learned to rot in silence.

He stopped mid-step, black gift bag swinging at his side like dead weight. He hadn’t meant to be here. Just killing time before a meeting, maybe grabbing some pointless toy for Kieran’s son.

But that scent.

He followed it — not fast, not frantic. Just... pulled. Like gravity had shifted without asking his permission.

He rounded a corner. Walked past the blinding colors of a candy kiosk. Ignored the buzzing arcades. Stepped into the glow of the children’s department, bathed in too much light.

And then he saw him.

White hair, soft and unbrushed. Crimson eyes.

Staring down at a plastic capsule, tiny fingers struggling to pry it open, cheeks puffed in sheer, adorable defiance. The boy looked up and grinned at someone just out of view.

And then—there you were.

Crouched beside him, arms around your knees. That necklace still at your throat. Your hair longer. Your posture calmer. But it was you.

He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

You looked up. Met his eyes.

The world didn’t fall apart. It just... recoiled.

Your lips parted. He couldn’t tell if it was shock or guilt. Maybe both.

He took a step forward. Controlled. Precise. Like walking through fire and pretending it didn’t burn.

“Well,” he said, voice rough, cool, razor-sharp. “Isn’t this adorable.”

You didn’t answer.

He tilted his head, gaze dragging from the boy to you.

“You got taller,” he added, tone almost conversational. “I always said you needed better posture.”

Still, silence.

He smiled — the wrong kind of smile.

“And here I thought you were dead. Would’ve sent flowers. Or a bottle of wine. Maybe danced on your grave. Depends on the day.”

You stood slowly, one hand resting lightly against the child’s back. Protective. Subtle.

“I wasn’t hiding from you,” you said.

“No?” he murmured. “Just... the rest of reality?”

You didn’t answer that.

His eyes dropped again. To the boy. Then back up. He didn’t ask. Not out loud. Didn’t have to.

Your expression answered for you.

He exhaled once, slow, through his nose. Then laughed. Just a little.

“Of course,” he muttered. “Why not. Five years of silence, and now I get the full soap opera.”

He took another step, voice dipping low.

“Tell me something,” he said. “Was it worth it? The running? The silence? Did it help you sleep?”

You stared at him, steady.

“I did what I had to do.”

“Sure,” he said, nodding, the sarcasm now soft, silky. “And now you’re back in broad daylight, in my city, with my blood standing in front of capsule machines. Very covert.”

His fingers twitched slightly at his side. Not from rage — from restraint.

The boy turned.

“Mom?”

Your breath hitched.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

Small feet padded over. A tiny hand found yours without hesitation. Sylus watched it like a punch to the ribs.

The boy blinked up at him.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

Your voice was quiet. Even.

“Someone I used to know.”

Something in Sylus’s jaw clicked. He crouched down, not too close. Not yet.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” the boy replied.

“What’d you get?”

A capsule was held up proudly. “Tiny raven with red eyes!”

Of course. Sylus stared at it, almost amused.

“Good taste,” he said. “I used to have one just like that.”

The boy beamed.

Sylus rose to his full height again, gaze flicking to you — sharp now, cooled over, dangerous.

“This conversation’s not over.”

Your grip on the boy tightened, imperceptibly.

“I know.”

He didn’t linger. Just turned. Walked away like it cost him nothing.

But you saw it — the slight tremble in his fingers. And for the first time in five years — you knew: he wouldn't sleep tonight. And neither would you.

***

He doesn’t sleep. Not because of nightmares — those he’s made peace with years ago — but because of you. Because you were real again. Present. Breathing the same air. And now the silence he once ruled feels like a cage made of your absence.

He paces his study like an animal too big for its den, the whiskey glass untouched on the desk, sweating against the dark wood. The documents in front of him blur, ignored. His body is wired, restless, his mind clawing at thoughts it doesn’t know what to do with. He used to find solace in this room. Now it’s just another echo chamber.

You came back. Just like that. No warning. No apologies. As if you hadn’t torn him apart and scattered the pieces across five fucking years. And you didn’t come alone. You brought his son.

His son.

The words twist inside him like a blade. Rage flares hot and sharp — not just at you, but at himself. At the way he still aches for you. At the way his hands trembled the moment your eyes met his. You don’t get to come back like this. Not after he worshipped you. Not after he handed over every part of himself — the power, the silence, the vulnerability — and let you keep it like it was nothing.

You, who once ruled him with a smile and a whisper. You, who made the most dangerous man in the city gentle. You, who he let in so deeply that even now, after everything, his instincts still tilt toward you.

He should hate you. He wants to.

But all he can think about is the boy’s eyes — his eyes — and the fact that he didn’t know. You hid it from him. You stole that from him. And yet, the second he saw your face, all he wanted was to feel the warmth of your body again.

No. This can’t be impulsive. He tells himself that. Over and over. He has to be careful now. Strategic. This isn’t just about you anymore. There’s too much at stake. A child. Blood of his blood. If he moves wrong, if he rushes this, he could lose everything before he’s even had the chance to hold it.

You came back so openly, so carelessly — as if you knew. As if you were daring him to act.

But this isn’t a reunion. It’s a chess game. And he intends to win.

Still, all the logic in the world can’t stop the pull. His body moves before his mind can catch it. He throws on his jacket, crosses the hall in long, deliberate strides. He ignores the way his pulse hammers, the way his breath shortens. He tells himself this is reconnaissance. Observation. That he won’t knock on your door, won’t say your name, won’t touch you.

But he’s already walking to the car, and he knows — he’s lying.

Because it’s already too late. You’re a gravity he never escaped. And he’s hurtling back toward you like a star on its last, burning descent.

***

You hadn’t heard the door. You were sure you’d locked it — triple-checked, in fact. But when you stepped barefoot into the living room, the shadows shifted. And he was there.

Sylus.

Sitting in the armchair by the window, so still he might’ve been carved from shadow. His face half-hidden in darkness, but his eyes — those eyes — watched you with the slow, dangerous heat of banked coals. As if he were waiting for something. As if he’d already decided what it was.

You clutched your son’s sweatshirt to your chest, still warm from sleep, still soft with safety. Your fingers curled into the fabric like it might shield you from the inevitable.

Your throat closed around a breath you forgot to take.

“I should’ve known you’d find a way in,” you said. Not angry. Not even surprised. Just… tired. But not the kind of tired sleep could fix.

The silence stretched. And then—

“Why.” His voice was low. Steady. But there was nothing calm about it.

“Why come back?”

You hesitated. Sat down at the edge of the couch, careful to keep distance between you. Close enough to feel the tension, far enough to pretend it couldn’t touch you. Your grip tightened on the tiny sleeve in your lap.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you said quietly.

A lie. And you both knew it.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched.

The air between you hung thick with everything unspoken — all the years, all the damage, all the silence that had grown teeth.

You tried again, voice thinner now. “Money was running out. And I didn’t want him to grow up in places that... don’t let kids be kids.”

Still no answer.

You looked down, as if the floor could save you.

“But that’s not really why I came back.”

There was a shift in the dark — barely perceptible, but enough. A muscle in his jaw, maybe. Or the faintest tilt of his head.

“I kept dreaming,” you said. “That he’d start asking questions. About who he is. Where he came from. Why he can hear footsteps down the hall before they happen. Why his teachers can’t meet his eyes. Why he knows when I’m lying, even when I don’t.”

You paused. Swallowed.

“I didn’t know what I’d say.”

For a long, breathless moment, there was nothing. And then:

“Thought maybe I was dead?”

You laughed — bitter, small, nothing like real humor.

“No. That would’ve been easier.”

He still didn’t move, but something in the room recoiled anyway. Maybe it was you.

You turned toward him, carefully, like stepping toward a storm you once loved.

“I thought if I stayed gone long enough, you’d forget. Or hate me enough not to care.”

He leaned forward slowly, like something waking up. The light from the hallway carved across his face, catching the sharp edge of his cheekbone, the faint scar at his jaw. He looked older. Not in his body — in his bones. In the way ruin settles behind the eyes and builds a kingdom there.

“Do I look like a man who forgets?” he said.

God, the way he said it. Like the last bell before a burial.

You didn’t answer.

“You ran,” he said. “Took my son. Hid him from me. For five years.”

“I had to,” you said, a little too fast. “You know I had to.”

“Say it.”

You met his eyes, barely.

“I didn’t want to raise him in your world.”

There was a pause. Then:

“He is my world.”

That broke something in you. The sweatshirt slipped from your lap, forgotten.

“I know,” you whispered. “I know.”

You stood before you meant to, took two small steps forward before you could stop yourself. A mistake. A betrayal of your own walls. Still, your hand lifted — hesitated — and reached out. Just barely. Fingertips grazing the side of his.

He didn’t flinch. But he didn’t hold you back either.

Not yet.

His breath caught, brushing your wrist like memory.

“I could’ve loved you softer,” he said. “But you were never meant for soft things.”

Your eyes burned. You couldn’t speak for a moment. And when you did, your voice was almost gone.

“Maybe I’m not. But he is.”

And still, beneath all of it — the guilt, the weariness, the regret that howled behind your ribs — you waited for the part that scared you most. The part where he would turn cold. Where he would say the thing you feared since the moment you left.

The part where he would take your son from your arms and never look back.

You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. Not you. Not the boy.

And still, that fear clawed at you like a curse.

So you did what fear makes people do — you attacked. With silence, with half-truths, with distance you didn’t want. You kept the mask on as long as you could, clung to it like armor, because if it slipped — if he saw how badly you still wanted to crawl into his arms and sleep like you used to, when he would whisper in that deep, velvet voice and stroke your hair until the nightmares went quiet — he might use it against you.

He might leave.

And you… you had no idea how to survive that again.

***

The night he left, you didn’t sleep.

You just lay beside your son, one hand curled protectively around his small, warm frame, the other pressed to your chest like it might keep your ribs from collapsing inward. Every breath felt like it came with splinters. He slept soundly, unaware. Safe in a world that you had built with trembling hands and stubborn silence.

By morning, Sylus hadn’t returned.

But Luke and Kieran had.

They didn’t knock. Didn’t speak. Just entered with the quiet precision of men who used to be part of your life — before you made them ghosts.

Their arms were full. Boxes, bags, toys, medicine, books. Clothes in every size. Food you hadn’t even realized you needed. And a black card, placed on the kitchen table like a detonator.

“From him,” Luke said, voice clipped, eyes avoiding yours.

You opened your mouth. To say thank you, maybe. Or I’m sorry. Or how have you been.

But Kieran was already turning away.

“Don’t,” he muttered. Not cruel. Not cold. Just done.

And it hit you, like it hadn’t hit you until that moment — not just guilt, not just regret.

You didn’t just run from him.

You ran from them too. The only people who had ever stayed. The only ones who’d held space for you when you were nothing but sharp edges and unfinished grief.

Now they wouldn't even look at you.

You stood there, frozen, surrounded by things you didn’t ask for — abundance you hadn’t earned — while your son laughed on the floor, tangled in a new toy, as if the world wasn’t cracked beneath your feet.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream.

But something broke. Quietly. Deeply.

Your pride was already bleeding. Your shame had nowhere left to hide. And still, it wasn’t the card that pushed you over the edge. It wasn’t the gifts or the silence or even the anger simmering in Luke’s shoulders.

It was the absence.

It was the fact that he didn’t come himself.

That he sent others. That he kept his distance — like you were already something to be managed, not faced.

And it shouldn’t have hurt. You’d told yourself a thousand times you didn’t want to see him. That this wasn’t about him. That you didn’t need his money or his empire or the echo of what you used to be.

But the truth — the ugly, humiliating truth — was this: you didn’t want his wealth.

You wanted him.

His voice. His arms. The way he used to pull you close and whisper things that made the dark quiet. The way he used to tuck you in like a secret, like something too rare to risk losing. You wanted him. And you hated yourself for it.

So you moved before you could think. Before the fear, the shame, the rational voice could stop you.

You grabbed your coat. Your keys.

Tara, bless her, had shown up just minutes before, arms full of groceries and soft reassurances, promising to stay the night if you needed to rest. You told her you’d be gone for a few hours. That everything was fine.

You kissed your son’s head — maybe a little too long, maybe a little too tight — and walked out the door without another word.

And then you drove.

Not because you knew what you were going to say.

But because if you didn’t see him now, if you didn’t make him look at you — you might shatter into pieces too small to ever come back together.

***

His estate was still the same.

Too grand. Too silent. Still heavy with ghosts you left behind.

The guards moved aside the moment they saw your face. No hesitation. No questions. Just doors opening like jaws — welcoming you back into the mouth of a beast you once dared to call home.

You didn’t knock.

You didn’t hesitate.

You stormed into the room mid-meeting — a rupture in the polished calm — slicing through tailored suits, cigar smoke, and the tight, brutal quiet of dangerous men interrupted. Every head turned.

Including his.

Sylus sat at the head like a monarch grown colder with time. Glass in hand. Eyes unreadable. And that stillness — the kind that wasn’t calm, just leashed violence.

He saw you. Took you in.

And didn’t blink.

“Out,” he said.

Just one word. Soft. Absolute.

And the bosses of N109 — men who’d burned cities, bled kings, slaughtered empires — obeyed without a sound.

The door clicked shut behind the last of them.

You stood there. Just the two of you now. Five years of silence between your ribs. His name lodged somewhere behind your teeth.

You stepped forward, fists clenched.

“So this is how it’s going to be?” you snapped. “You send your men with toys and blank checks and think that counts? You think that makes you a father?”

He arched a brow. Slowly. And then — God help you — he laughed.

It was low. Mocking. Bone-deep with disbelief.

“You’re angry?” he said, with a cruel sort of wonder. “That’s rich.”

“I’m serious—”

“Oh, I can see that. Look at you,” he gestured to you with his glass, casual, vicious. “Marching in here like I haven’t been erased from his life. Like you didn’t take a scalpel to the past and cut me out clean. And now what — two days after a chance encounter, suddenly I’m not doing enough?”

His smile was the kind that used to make people flinch.

“What exactly were you expecting? Balloons? A welcome-home banner? Me groveling for the right to meet the child you kept hidden like some dirty secret?”

You flushed. Heat crawled up your throat.

“That’s not what I—”

“No?” he cut in, voice quieter now, colder. “Because from where I’m standing, you vanish for five years, show up with a son that wears my face, and get pissed when I don’t instantly fall into step like nothing happened.”

You stared at him, stunned. But he wasn’t done.

“You don’t get to paint me as the absentee,” he said, each word deliberate, venomous. “You built that absence. You enforced it. You chose it.”

You swallowed, but your voice cracked anyway.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

He laughed again, but there was no humor in it. Just razor-sharp ache.

“Oh, come on, kitten. You always had choices. You were the clever one, remember? The strategist. The girl who read people like maps and always knew the way out. So tell me—what part of your master plan involved disappearing with my son and calling it love?”

“I was protecting him.”

“From me?” His voice dropped, dangerously soft. “Because you thought I’d do what, exactly? Teach him how to hold a knife? Make him my little monster?”

You didn’t answer fast enough.

He stepped forward, eyes burning now.

“You don’t get to disappear, reappear, and accuse me of being a bad father in the same breath. You don’t get to bury me in silence and then demand I dance the role you left me.”

And then, softer, darker:

“You think I wanted this? To send strangers to the doorstep of the boy I didn’t even know existed?”

Your mouth opened. Nothing came out.

He stared at you — not with hate, but with something worse. Hurt twisted so deep it no longer bled. It just settled.

“You think I wouldn’t have taught him to live?”

Your lips part. No sound.

“I would’ve taught him how to breathe in a world that eats soft things alive,” he says. “I would’ve taught him how to survive it. How to carry your laugh like a shield. How to fight for it. How to protect it.”

He’s not shouting. But each word cuts deeper than a scream.

“I would’ve laid down my empire for him,” he says. “I would’ve bled for every step he took.”

He pauses — just long enough for the weight of it to hit — and then:

“But you didn’t just take him from me.”

His voice lowers, rough and hollow.

“You took me from him. You took you from us. You didn’t just rewrite the story — you burned the whole fucking book before we even had a chance to open it.”

He steps closer, and you don’t move.

“You didn’t trust me with him. Fine. But you didn’t trust me with you either. And you—” his voice catches, jaw tightening, “you didn’t even give yourself the chance to know what it could’ve been like.”

His eyes are glass now. And every word is a knife he’s too tired to stop from falling.

“You robbed all three of us.”

You try to speak, but the words catch somewhere in your throat. A hard knot of guilt and grief you can’t seem to swallow. You want to say his name. Just his name.

But before you can, his voice changes.

It’s no longer cold. No longer composed.

It’s blistering.

“Do you know what I did the day I realized you were gone?” he says — and now it’s breathless, like the memory itself is suffocating him. “Do you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

So he does it for you.

“I drank,” he bites. “I tore the city apart. I hunted ghosts. I played the organ until the walls bled. Until the sound felt like your scream in my skull.”

You sway. He sees it. Doesn’t care.

“I sat in your chair,” he hisses, “and begged it to creak. Just once. Just once, like you were still in it.”

Your knees buckle.

Still, he doesn’t move to catch you.

“I watched videos of you sleeping,” he says, hoarse now. “Kept that ugly little mug you always hated — because your lipstick was still on the rim.”

You cover your mouth with both hands as your breath shatters open.

“I slept in our bed fully clothed,” he whispers, “because I couldn’t let the sheets forget your shape.”

He finally takes one step forward — and then stops. Something in him splinters.

With a growl pulled straight from his chest, he turns and hurls the whiskey glass into the fireplace.

It explodes in flame and glass, the sound like a gunshot, like a scream. Fire licks up the wall as the liquor catches, dancing high and fast.

You flinch. Cover your face.

But not from fear. From shame.

You drop to your knees, hands shaking uncontrollably, sobs raking through your ribs. You can’t see through the tears anymore, and your voice is barely there when you whisper—

“I didn’t know how to love you without losing myself.”

There’s silence for a beat. The kind that hurts worse than screaming.

Then his voice — softer now. Almost gentle. Still raw.

“Kitten,” he says. “Was I really such a monster that you had to vanish with a newborn? Cage yourself in pain and loneliness for five years?”

You can’t look up.

“Did it help?” he asks. “Did it ever help?”

Your voice comes out choked.

“No... no,” you cry. “It felt like I was dying every second. I called for you every night. I prayed you’d come.”

He exhales sharply through his nose.

“Maybe your pride didn’t let you call loud enough.”

His words hit like lashes — and they’re meant to. You hear the fury under them. The wound he’s trying to cauterize with cruelty.

“And now what?” he snaps. “You think I’ll just let you use me again? Let you touch me again? And then vanish with my son all over again? Is that the plan?”

“Sylus, please...”

Your voice cracks as the sobs take over. The panic. The helplessness. You’re unraveling at the seams.

“Please don’t do this. Please—” You clutch at your chest, as if trying to physically hold your heart together. “You’re cutting me open— You’re cutting me alive— I made a mistake— so many mistakes— I didn’t know how to come back— I was scared— I was so scared— I didn’t know how to fix it, I didn’t— I never— I never—”

You can’t breathe. The words collapse.

But one thing pushes through.

“I never stopped loving you.”

Everything halts.

His expression breaks. Not shatters — breaks, quietly, like a fault line slipping beneath the surface.

And then he’s moving.

Down to the floor. To you.

His knees hit the marble hard. He doesn’t feel it.

His arms are around you in the next second, pulling you in, wrapping you up like a shield against everything — even himself. Even your shared grief.

You sob into his chest, into his collar, into the hollow beneath his jaw that still smells like night and memory and danger and home. Your body convulses with it, trembling like the child you once were in his arms.

And he holds you. Tight.

Because there’s nothing else left to do.

And now, with you in his arms again — trembling, broken, real — something in him gives way.

Not all at once. Slowly. Inevitably.

You feel it before he even realizes it’s happening: the way his muscles start to loosen, the way the sharp lines of rage soften, his breath slowing against your temple as his hands begin to move. Hesitant at first. Then helpless.

He’s touching your hair — slowly, gently — like he forgot what softness felt like. His fingers slip through the strands, curl at the nape of your neck, anchor there. One hand presses against your spine, the other strokes up your back, down again, grounding you with each motion like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your grief against his skin.

Your sobs soak through his shirt, seep down to his chest, dampen his collar and slide down his neck. And he lets it happen. Welcomes the burn. Because after five years of silence, your tears feel like the only thing real.

You cling to him like the world’s collapsing again — but this time you’re dragging him into the rubble with you. Your arms around his shoulders. Your knees curled against his sides. Your legs wrapping around him like instinct. Like survival.

He doesn’t flinch.

He welcomes the ache of it. Every breathless grab. Every tremor in your limbs. Every desperate mark your body makes against his.

Because it means you’re here.

Because it means he still feels something.

And then your voice — a wrecked, shaking thing — finds its way through the ruin:

“I came back… because… because I couldn’t give him what he deserves. I tried. I tried so hard to be everything. But how can I show him joy, or love, or hope — when I live in the ashes of something beautiful I destroyed?”

Your voice cracks.

“How can I teach him love, when the only thing left in me is the bitter taste of everything I ruined?”

His arms tighten around you.

Your voice drops to a whisper.

“I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. Not now. Maybe not ever. I don’t even know how to fix myself. Let alone… heal you.”

You press your face into his chest, as if that could protect you from what you’re about to say.

“But please,” you whisper. “Please help me find the path back. What do I do? What do I say to make you stop hating me?”

There’s a pause.

A long, dangerous pause.

Then he exhales slowly — like the weight of your question cracked something inside his chest.

His lips find your temple.

Tentative. Testing.

He lingers there, breathing in the scent of you, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to want this.

Then he moves. A little bolder now.

Your hairline. The crown of your head. Your forehead. The slope of your cheek. His lips brush over each point like it’s a litany. Like he’s not kissing you, but praying through you.

He kisses your nose. Your brow. Your eyelids.

And then—your lips.

Or almost. Just close enough for his breath to mix with yours.

Each kiss a scar he’s trying to erase with his lips. Each touch a memory he’s begging not to lose again.

He doesn’t say your name.

He devours it.

“I hate that I still love you like this,” he breathes between kisses. “I hate that even now, after everything, all I want is you.”

You gasp. Half-sob.

“I hate that just being here… makes me want to forgive you.”

And then he’s kissing you, not like before. Not like memory. Not like longing.

Like a man drowning. Like someone trying to inhale every second he lost, burn it into his lungs before it’s torn away again.

You kiss him back — shattering into him, against him, with him. Arms tight. Mouth hungry. Breath wrecked.

Because this isn’t peace. This is survival.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only just enough to breathe.

His forehead presses against yours. His voice shakes.

“I’m not ready to forgive,” he says. “But I can’t go another day without trying.”

Your eyes stay closed. Your lips tremble.

“That’s all I want.”

He exhales — broken. Guttural. Human in a way he never lets himself be.

“I missed you so much it ruined me.”

And you say it — softly, clearly, the last shard of your heart finally offered:

“I came back to help you rebuild.”

***

A month later.

The dining room is too big for three people.

The chandelier still glitters like a threat. The long table could seat fifteen warlords. The silverware looks like it costs more than most apartments.

But tonight, with one small boy seated on a velvet cushion, feet not even reaching the chair rung, and a half-eaten pile of mashed potatoes in front of him — it somehow feels… livable.

You watch him with a kind of cautious awe.

He’s trying so hard to be proper. Sitting straight. Using both hands to hold the fork. Stealing glances at the towering ceilings and flickering wall sconces like they might come alive. Every now and then he glances at you — checking if he’s doing this right.

And then there’s the raven.

Mephisto — jet-black, silent, elegant — perched on the edge of a nearby armchair, watching your son like a curious god. Your boy is enchanted. He keeps whispering questions at him, occasionally offering a green bean as tribute.

Mephisto doesn’t flinch. Just cocks his head like he’s listening.

You’re barely touching your food. Too busy memorizing.

The way your son laughs softly at the bird. The way the candlelight flickers against the long mahogany floors. The quiet.

God, the quiet.

You don’t realize you’ve zoned out until footsteps echo down the hall.

Sylus appears in the doorway — sleeves rolled, collar undone, a worn copy of Somewhere in the Sky in one hand.

“He’s out,” he says, voice low, warm. “Fought it like a gladiator. I barely survived.”

You smile.

He crosses the room, setting the book on the sideboard. Loosens his shoulders like someone still unused to relaxing.

“Apparently,” he adds, deadpan, “the only thing he truly cares about in this mansion is the antique rifle mounted over the fireplace.”

Your blood runs cold.

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” he replies, reaching for the wine. “I told him if he managed to fall asleep on his own tonight, he could hold it — under supervision.”

You stare.

“Are you insane?”

He pours. Slowly. Deliberately. A touch of amusement in his eyes.

“He fell asleep in two minutes.”

He passes you a glass. You take it like it might explode. He clinks his own against yours and sits beside you.

There’s a pause. The kind that tastes like something new, but gentle.

And then, without looking at you:

“I like being a father.”

You glance over.

He’s staring into his glass. But the corner of his mouth twitches, like he almost doesn’t believe he said it out loud.

“It’s because it’s still new,” you say softly. “Still shiny.”

He shakes his head.

“No. It’s because he’s mine.”

 A beat.

“And because when he runs into a room, he doesn’t hesitate. Like he belongs there.”

Your throat catches. You take a sip of wine just to avoid answering.

He leans back, drapes one arm across the back of the chair, and looks at you like he’s about to say something dangerous.

And he does.

“So.”

You blink.

“How do you feel about making a daughter?”

You choke on the wine.

He doesn’t laugh. Just smiles — that smile. The slow, calculated one that used to mean someone was about to lose a war.

“You’re not serious.”

“I’m entirely serious, kitten” he says. “We could use someone to balance out the chaos. She’d keep him in line.”

“She’d own you in three weeks.”

“I’d let her,” he says, completely unbothered.

You shake your head, laughing into your glass.

“You realize we’re barely functional as it is?”

“And yet, here we are,” he murmurs, “functioning.”

The silence that follows is soft. Safe. Domestic in a way neither of you knows what to do with.

You lean your head on his shoulder.

And for the first time in years — no one is running. No one is bleeding. No one is apologizing.

Just this: Candlelight. A boy upstairs dreaming of ravens and rifles. And the possibility — for once — of something beautiful not ending in fire.

[seiwas]

new year superstitions (or some shit) | bakugo katsuki

wc: 1.4k

summary: bakugo's never believed in timing things for luck (or: affection is hard, but bakugo thinks it's about damn time he tries harder)

contains: written with f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!, aged up!pro-hero bakugo (mid-twenties), reader is described as pretty, vaguely alludes to reader's quirk, established relationship, fluff.

you slip into bakugo's space just a few minutes shy of touching the new year.

everywhere around you is loud, lively in the way new year's eve parties go; a group of people down the street stand outside of a bar, waving their streamers and blowing on small trumpets to welcome the next hour. from a distance, fireworks are shooting up to the sky, right above some luxury hotel having its annual countdown.

it's neither bakugo's thing nor yours to be up this late, partaking in celebrations like this, but he supposes some things are worth experiencing at least once—

the scent of your perfume hits him before he sees you, the space around him tightening in that familiar way the air around you shifts when you hold your breath. you smile, a small, gentle lift of your lips that falls into pace with your blink. pretty.

warmth pools in his stomach, building slowly to crawl its way up his neck and over his ears, overflowing to dust his cheeks.

"thought you looked a little lonely over here," you mumble, stifling your giggle as you watch him turn pink.

he furrows his brows, a soft "tsk," escaping his lips out of habit as his head turns to you. you always tease him like this; he should be getting used to it by now.

a gust of wind picks up from your spot on the balcony, pushing the glass door shut. the noise from inside muffles to dull chatter, the beat of tonight's music recognizable only by the subtle vibrations on the metal railing resting against his back.

the winter breeze seems to have tapped you, too, as you tuck your chin deeper into the red scarf around your neck.

"y'should've stayed inside," he nods to you then to the balcony door, crossing his arms, "s'cold here."

you frown, inching closer, just enough that you could loop your arm with his if you wanted, "sometimes, i can't tell if you're bad at taking hints or just really good at ignoring them."

he eyes you from the side, red vermillion the shade of your scarf—the one he gifted you just a few days ago for christmas. you pout, loosening the fabric around your neck so he can hear you clearly.

"you know," you take in a shaky breath, "this is the f-first time we're at s-something like this as y-y'know…” you pause, glancing at him to gauge his reaction, “t-together."

his nose turns a shade of pink darker; it's true, and he can hear you clearly—every tremor, every shiver. he sees you pretty clearly too, the softest hint of red on your lips. this relationship with you is new, just a little over a couple of months, and it makes him think—

"k-katsuki, are you e-even—"

it's reflex when he does it―his hand shooting out to grip your elbow, pulling you closer into his parka. right where you were standing lands a small clump of snow, fallen from the balcony of the unit above.

you look up almost immediately, a little flustered.

"s-sorry―"

bakugo feels warm despite the cold, heat blazing across his entire face as little puffs of air tickle his neck when you speak. like he said, this relationship with you is new, and though he's held you a few times already, affection, in any capacity is still something he's getting used to.

and you're aware of that too; of course you are. but when you push yourself away to create some space―

"told you s'fuckin cold."

―he keeps his other hand on your back, holding you into place.

bakugo is intense in most aspects; he meets things headfirst with no hesitation, but being this close to you makes him feel weird, a kind of unusual he thinks he should approach with caution―as if to keep himself from ruining the moment.

so his eyes wander. down the street, on the view behind you; they focus on the wisps of your hair ruffled from the earlier breeze, the tips of your eyelashes, blinking. then slowly and carefully, they land on you.

and you―

you beam, eyes widening momentarily before flashing him the brightest smile. it stills him so much that he doesn't notice your hands loosening the scarf around your neck even more, unwinding the fabric until the lengthened ends sit on your palms.

it's when you say "okay," gently and so... so... sweetly, that he feels the softness of wool hit the tips of his ears and down his neck. an ache spreads throughout his chest as he locks eyes with yours, tongue pushing against the roof of his mouth for another tsk―but you beat him to it, your finger coming up to press against his lips.

"s'cold," you giggle, a hint of teasing.

he narrows his gaze, about to retort when you both hear muffled shouts from inside the party, "ten... nine... eight..."

the group of friends down the street seem to be in on it too, echoes in unison, shouting, "seven... six... five... four..."

and from afar, right where the hotel is situated, are the numbers "three... two... one..." lit up on the sky.

you tug on bakugo's parka to draw his attention; the expression on your face is something he can't quite decipher―winter on your cheeks and your lower lip pulled between your teeth. the air around him tightens again, evidenced by the way you suck in a breath.

then, it happens all too fast―the way you tiptoe up just that little bit; your fingertips stamping chills down the edges of his scarred cheek. you kiss bakugo right as the new year strikes and the moment happens too quickly for him to notice.

"happy new year, katsuki," you whisper, close enough that it tickles his chin. it must have been a small peck, it must have been. he can only assume as he blinks it back to memory.

you've kissed before―three times to be exact, four counting this one. and he's not opposed to it (what kind of idiot would be?); in full truth, he fucking loves it.

but, affection is hard, and fuck, it's always been you initiating it―

"sorry, too much?" you mumble sheepishly, pressing your lips together, "just figured since it's the new year and all..."

―which is even more fucked by the fact that you feel the need to apologize for it.

he stares at you, bewildered out of his fucking mind that he still hasn't grown the damn balls to kiss you himself.

so, to hell with new year superstitions, he thinks; bakugo's never believed in playing to luck and chance in the first place. he'll kiss you right now because he wants to―

because it's what he's been wanting to do since the start of tonight, since yesterday, since a week ago; since you kissed him the very first time and all he could do was stand there, trying to act like the very feel of his lips pressed against yours didn't make his mind howitzer impact right in that moment.

―it just so happens that it's the new year, and it's about damn time he grows the balls to initiate it for once.

his hand reaches for your cheek before you can take a step back, fingers slotting themselves by your ear and resting against the edge of your jaw. your eyebrows shoot up, the look in your eyes something between confused and surprised. his thumb slides itself across your cheek before swiping down to touch the edge of your lips, feeling.

there's a dull warmth beneath the pads of his fingertips, heating up when he leans in. the air tightens; breath on hold as his nose bumps into your skin, and it's faint, the slightest touch of your lips against his. your eyes fall shut before his do, and he shivers, a slight tremble as he deepens the kiss.

he starts out slowly, uncertain, moving his lips tentatively. it's a push and pull―soft, quick pecks sandwiched between longer, drawn out touching. it almost feels like this moment's been suspended amidst all the noise, lips locked and gliding, lingering; he swears he can feel you grinning.

your fingers grip the fabric of his parka and tug, and he sees it as a signal to be rougher, taking your bottom lip between his and slightly biting. you squeak the tiniest bit, but it's enough to make him pull away completely, eyes wide as his thumb presses against your chin.

"fuck," he whispers, catching his breath as he tugs just enough that he can see the inside of your lower lip, "did i hurt you?"

he's squinting, brows furrowed while looking for any sign of blood when you shake your head, stopping him. his gaze shifts to take you in―your glossy lips, slick with spit; your eyes, completely blown but somehow still twinkling, and when you giggle, he almost finds it cruel you have to look so fucking pretty.

"it's just your canines," you smile, "i like them."

fuck, he really should've done this sooner.

a/n: this ended up way longer than i planned woops! haven't written bakugo in a while but i miss the guy!! and i wanted to write him so terribly flustered and bad at affection but being so frustrated because he wants to try!!! and he should be better than this!! anyway! i had this idea around christmas time but couldn't write it in time for the new year because i got sick. so it's a little late, but i hope you enjoy!

i'm not sure if you remember my dear willow @willossom, but you sent me a request a good while back for one of my events with the prompt: saying "i love you" in all the ways you aren't used to for bakugo, and this reminded me loads of it!! 🥺 though this isn't the written request for that one yet (i have something else planned for it), i just wanted to let you know that i thought of you while writing this!!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[sunsburns]

honestly i feel like joaquin gives best friends to lovers vibes. and the moment you realize he likes you (meanwhile you've liked him for years) is gonna be in the middle of one of those heated arguments you have with each other bc he's jealous of the new guy you're seeing but one of you is stubborn and doesn't wanna admit it. idk if this counts as a request but if you like the idea i'd love to see you write something abt it!!

yes yes! i feel like it would be even better if the two of you had been working together for soo long too. like you’re in the middle of a stakeout or a mission and he’s suddenly bringing it up for the first time, trying to be all suave and subtle and you’re like ????

the stakeout had been dragging for hours.

the two of you were stationed in an unmarked van on a dimly lit street, watching the back entrance of an old warehouse where your target was supposed to show. you and joaquín torres had done plenty of missions like this before—long hours, bad takeout, and enough banter to keep you both from losing it.

except this time, he wasn’t talking.

not really, anyway. he was pretending to be busy, fiddling with the comms setup even if it had already been working fine since the start of the op.

the van was cramped, parked just far enough from the target building to stay out of sight. the only light inside comes from the dim glow of yours tablet and the occasional flicker of streetlights through the tinted windows.

and then, out of nowhere—

“you never did tell me how your date went last week.”

you barely heard him over the quiet hum of the surveillance feed. your attention is fixed on the warehouse across the street, waiting for movement, but his words pull you out of it.

you glance over, catching him looking away the second you do. subtlety had never been his strong suit.

“i didn’t think you’d want to know,” you said, testing the waters.

“of course i do.”

something in his voice made you pause. it wasn’t the usual teasing or lighthearted prodding—it was earnest. which was odd, considering the first time you brought it up there had been no jokes and joaquín had not been this curious. if anything, he’d gone uncharacteristically quiet, then changed the subject entirely.

but you’d brushed it off at the time.

still, you decide to humour him. “it went well.”

silence. then the soft creak of leather as he shifts in his seat.

“so, is there a second date coming?”

the casual tone didn’t fool you.

you smiled, mostly to yourself. “maybe.”

you expect some kind of quip, a halfhearted joke to brush it off. but you didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened, how his fingers flexed against his knee.

for someone who was an expert at recon, joaquín was terrible at hiding his tells. always had been. every thought he had crossed his face before he could stop it, which is why you’ve never had to second-guess him.

but that? that was weird.

“why? do you care?” you ask, turning slightly toward him.

“i don’t,” he said too quickly. “just wondering if i gotta learn this guy’s name or not.”

your smile grew wider. “oh? so you do care.”

he finally looked at you, “that’s not what i—“ he exhaled sharply. “forget it.”

you couldn’t.

you studied him for a moment, the furrow in his brow, the slight clench of his jaw. this was the longest conversation you’ve had outside of mission chatter in a week. and now he suddenly wanted to know about your love life?

“joaquín,” you started, voice slower now. “if there’s something you wanna say—“

“i only care when it affects our work.”

that made you bristle. “oh. am i too distracted for you?”

“that’s not what i said.”

“it’s exactly what you said.” you turned toward him fully now, forgetting about the stakeout for a second. “you didn’t have a problem last week when i was watching your six, but suddenly i go on a date and now i’m not focused enough for you?”

“that’s not—“ he stopped himself, dragging a hand down his face. “tu—you’re impossible.”

“like you’re any better,” you fired back. “you’ve been acting weird ever since i mentioned this guy, and now you’re bringing it up in the middle of a mission like it’s relevant intel? what’s your deal, torres? what’s going on? what are you trying to say?”

he pressed his lips together, clearly debating something. you knew him well enough to see the war happening behind his eyes, the push and pull of something he'd been trying to keep locked down.

“i’m not—i’m not trying to say anything,” he muttered.

your eyes narrowed. “bullshit.”

his lips curled into something sour, “i don’t get you sometimes.” his voice was lower now, “you’ll pick up on the smallest details in the field, but when it comes to this?” he gestured vaguely between the two of you, frustrated, “it’s like you’re choosing not to see it.”

that stopped you cold.

because for a second—for one stupid, fleeting second—you let yourself think about it. really think about it.

like the way joaquín always made sure you had the last protein bar on long missions, even if it meant going without. or the way he always covered your blind spots in a fight, positioning himself between you and danger without hesitation. the way his voice changed when he spoke to you, softening in a way it never did for anyone else.

the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

god.

your stomach twisted. you had spent so long convincing yourself that none of it meant anything. that it was just who he was—loyal, protective, a damn good partner. that was the only way you had managed to push your feelings down, to keep yourself from ruining what you had with him.

because the truth?

you had been in love with joaquín torres for years.

and it had been eating you alive.

the only reason you had gone out with someone else at all was because you had needed to move on. you couldn’t keep wanting something that wasn’t yours. couldn’t keep looking at him like he hung the damn moon when he was always just out of reach.

but now—now—he was looking at you like he was waiting for you to say something. like he wanted you to see it.

like maybe you hadn’t been crazy all along.

“joaquín.”

he just shook his head, frowning like he was mad at himself for even saying anything. “doesn’t matter.” the frustration drained from his voice, leaving behind something hollow. “forget i said anything.”

then he turned away like the conversation was over.

but it wasn’t.

because now, there was no taking it back.

and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to.

before you could respond, sam’s voice crackled over the comms.

“guys," he said, slow and unimpressed. “you do realize your mic is on, right?”

heat flooded your face.

joaquín scrambled to reach for the radio, red in the face. “sorry. must’ve turned it on by accident.”

“glad we’re getting some entertainment while we wait, sam continued, and you could almost see that grin on his face. “but unless you two wanna keep broadcasting your love confession to the team, maybe save it for after the mission?”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

how about (webseries + dream bbq? if it's no problem) ena with an s/o who has a child?? like ena discovers they have a child and when they become a thing, they introduce her to their child?? i'd also love to see mother ena <33

Yes oughh. She could be a good mother :(( /ref

Gonna put the hcs under a cut because I think I locked in a little too much haha

.........

Webseries!Ena

Above all things, your kid was your pride and joy.

They were basically a mini version of yourself. Boundless. Full of energy. Ever curious about the world around them.

They just spawned in one day while you stood around pondering what having a child would be like. It was only a fleeting thought, a small wish you kept in the confines of your heart, convinced it would never come to fruition.

But it seems like the Great Runas heard you and was feeling particularly generous.

Now you have someone who looks up to you for guidance and love, and for years it's always been that way. Just you two against the world.

Then Ena walked into your life, and she hasn't left since. She claims to have seen a "mini you" running around recently and thought you had shrunk in size, being disappointed she couldn't catch you.

Only then do you realize she's seen your kid but didn't know...

So after building up a close relationship with her, you figured now would be a good time for a proper introduction. You invite her over to meet them, and you explained to them beforehand about her arrival.

Untimely as ever, she walks in, but before you could say anything, she's rambling excitedly. "Salutations! So you're the little fragment of joy I saw running amok the other day. If not a clone, what's your relation to my beloved partner? Sister? Nephew? No, no, wait..you're their third cousin twice removed!" She grins, crouching down to their eye-level.

"Ena..this is my child."

"...ohh, I see. I see." Something in her tone shifts as her gaze meets yours. It's subtle, but she looks disheartened. "Dare I ask..who's the father? Or mother? Or...alternative parent?" Each question is laced with more dread than the last, her hands fidgeting with the fabric of her geometric skirt.

Of course, you should have known...

"There's nobody else. I promise. It's always been just us." You reassured her, before looking at your kid with a smile. "This is Ena. The one I was talking about earlier. Don't mind her fancy words. She's been good to me."

"Woah..you're Ena??" They seem astonished, at first, but then a skeptical look crosses their face. "My friends say you guys are bad luck, and trouble always comes from you."

Your girlfriend's yellow half still smiles, but inside she could hear her cubic heart crack. Yet she maintains her composure. "Ahaha! Not to worry, little one! I have been your parent's most loving other-half for....3.5 consecutive months! The follies you hear are just that! I'm most confident that we'll get along!"

After that initial meeting, Ena tries spending more time with your kid...although they still seem nervous around her, which she chalks up to them listening to the rumors and utterly despising her presence.

She wants to set a good example, and she's been great at warning them about falling rain rocks, stopping them from taking blood samples/IDs/files from strangers, and making sure Moony (who gets the "fun aunt" designation) isn't being a bad influence.

Yet it never feels like it's enough, stressing as though she's the mother herself, even when you remind her she's not.

That crack in her heart has only gotten bigger. Like a neglected pebble that was lodged into a car's windshield last week.

Her Sad form had one major breakdown when she discovers your kid warmed up to Moony quicker than her, but you reassure her that they will. It'll just take some more time.

"Bu..But what if *hic* we wun out of tiiiiiime??????"

"We won't, Ena. I promise."

One night, while your kid was at a friend's sleepover, you and her went out to a party to celebrate an anniversary. She got Drunk and had to be carried back to your place, where she kept giggling and babbling nonsense about motherhood (yet somewhere in her nonsense, you could hear her sadness, deep longing, and desires for acceptance)--and she promptly passed out.

Your kid came home earlier than expected, saw her Demon side for a framerate or two and got scared, running to hide underneath their bed.

The next morning, you tell her what happened, and you wish you didn't.....because now she's facedown on the couch, sobbing her eyes out. "I give uuuppppp," she wails, hitting her fists against the cushions. "I-I'll be nothing morwe than a..a-a stwanger to them! They can bawely even look at me!!"

You only understand half of what she's saying, but as you try comforting her, your kid suddenly walks in, looking very confused.

"Oh hey, um...." You panic a little, although they see your girlfriend crying and quietly go over to her, their gaze full of worry.

"Mom?"

Immediately she falls silent and looks at them in shock, wiping away her static tears. "Wh-What...did you just call me?"

Even you're astonished.

After months of being referred to as "Miss Ena" and "My Parent's Girlfriend of 3.5 Months"....they finally call her "Mom".

She looks at you, then your kid, then you, and back to them, eyes still wide.

"I-I'm sorry. I was just nervous." They explain, feeling a little guilty for waiting this long. "It's only been us two for a long time. But I know you love my parent, and they love you, too. I want you around more often. So...I-I'm ready to call you "mom", if that's okay."

"Bu...But what about your fwiends?" She sniffles. "Y-You still believe them?"

"Nah, they were actually real jerks. So I left them. That's why I came home early last night."

"What? But..you've known them fowever...and now you're lonely because of me..." She mumbles, feeling sad that she's the reason for yet another ruined friendship. She's ruined a few of your past ones simply by existing...and now your kid's.

But they don't seem bothered by it at all. "I'd rather be lonely than have friends who talk bad about my mom all the time."

Hearing that word makes her cry again, but now her blue side is actually smiling for once. She sits up, allowing you kid to climb onto the furniture and into her lap, embracing her tightly. "Thank you..." She whispers. "Thank you so much."

Never before has she cried happily. It's a new feeling.

But she welcomes it. Just like she's ready to fully welcome your kid into her life.

All the while, you smile too, nearly tearing up yourself.

You couldn't be prouder.

Dream BBQ Ena

It's just another day at the office, where Ena eavesdrops on a conversation between you and Froggy.

"Ughh, fine. You can go home early. But you know...you should bring that duplicate of yours to work sometime! We could always use the extra-!"

"Hell no. My kid's not gonna get wrapped up in all this mess. And that's final."

"Ehh???? You get the final say??? Remind me again who hired you?"

"Um...Ena?"

"....right, erm...okay. You can go on, I guess. But I expect you back here early tomorrow." Froggy grumbles, suddenly getting the suspicion that you two are being watched, and promptly calls out to his coworker. "Oi! Ena!! Stop being a creep and come talk to us!"

Her head peeks around the corner, followed by the rest of her body. "Sorry to intrude on this private board meeting, fellow associates." She pretends she didn't hear anything about your kid--being unaware of their existence until literally right now.

Yet you know that she knows, as it's obviously bugging her when she walks you home (after promising Froggy that this is an escort, not an unmandated break). Salesperson is chatting away about tomorrow's goals and yesterday's deadlines, but you haven't heard a word out of Meanie yet.

She always found it odd that you didn't work the longer hours like she did, as though this job wasn't the core focus of your life. It wasn't in your blood. In your veins. It didn't define you. Consume you--unlike her.

Oftentimes she wonders what kind of life she'd lead if not burdened by her duties.

Today, she discovered the reason why you randomly asked if this job had paternity leave.

It's your kid, who just spawned into this world one day and hasn't left your side. They've grown some, but still they run to greet you after work like always, and you'd pick them up with a smile bigger than the sun.

However, this evening's routine is different because of Ena's presence, as she awkwardly stands in the doorway.

"Who's that?"

"Oh!" You set them down, clearing your throat. "I think it's high time that I introduce you to Ena. We work together, and we are together, if that makes sense."

"Ohhhh...so does this mean she's my mom now?"

The question is innocent, blunt, and unassuming, holding a twinge of excitement and hope, even.

Your kid adores you, but every now and then has wondered what it'd be like to have two parents. They've seen different media about it, and heard about it from friends, too, so you knew this subject would come up eventually.

While you've entertained the idea, you weren't sure about Ena's feelings towards motherhood, considering her job and all.

In embarrassment, you lightly scolded them and turned to apologize to your girlfriend...only to see that she's frozen on the spot, like a TV segment somebody forgot to unpause. Her geometric claws twitch at her side, and her eyes are hidden beneath her hat. It's like some uncomfortable memory had resurfaced...triggered simply by saying the word "mom".

You wonder what's wrong, but her Salesperson side slaps her out of the trance, and she teleports into the middle of your living room space, scooping up your kid. "Ah! I see we have a CEO in the making! Coming soon to a dying business near you! Do you plan to step into my beloved associate's shoes once they retire? Are you investing wisely?" She puts them down, and kneels, grinning from center line-to-ear. "What's your evaluation of my work-life balance, little entrepreneur?"

"....um. Good?"

"Thanks for your feedback."

Least to say, it's not the best introduction...but not the worst, either. You'll try again tomorrow.

When tomorrow comes, you decide to bring your kid to the Hub to meet your coworkers (after they've been practically begging you to), making sure they didn't go down into the casino.

While they play with Kane, you're sitting on the pier, overlooking the bloody ocean. Ena shows up and sits beside you, but her movements are rigid. She's not chipper. She looks uncomfortable, and her Meanie side seems to crave conversation. An explanation.

So you talk.

"Darling..I'm sorry I didn't mention them before." You frowned, your hand resting on hers. "I wanted you two to meet a lot sooner, but-"

"Is there someone else?" Her voice is flat, although you detected a slight tremor in its tone.

Sure, Meanie would yell at people if she even thought they were trying to flirt with you....but this was different. This was insecurity at its core, and it's understandable for her to feel that way. If it was reversed, you'd get insecure too.

"No. It's only been [Child] and I. I'd never do that to you."

"......."

"Look, I know what they called you was a little..awkward. I'm sorry. I already talked to them abou-"

"They're your reason."

"Huh?"

"They're your reason for what you do. Everything you do, you do for them. But...where's mine?" Tiny cracks and vines begin to creep along her body, and her hands tremble. Salesperson doesn't interfere this time. "Wh-What..am I even doing here, [y/n]? I take the stupid jobs I'm given...I clear the smoke....and for what? Myself?! WHAT AM I EVEN FIGHTING FOR ANYMORE?!! A MINIMUM WAGE??? A POINTLESS EXISTENCE???"

"Ena. Hey. Hey."

She suddenly looks at you, static tears falling freely from her eyes. But you bring her into your arms before she could think of drying them. And she buries her head into your chest, clutching at your uniform, desperate for grounding.

Ever since her flashback when you two met the vending machine entity in the Lonely Door...you've been worried sick for her well-being. You didn't wanna see her fall apart like that again. Especially not after the rain rocks consumed her in the white and barren Uncanny Streets, and you thought you've lost her forever.

Your biggest regret would've been that she never got to meet your child...

"If you want...my little entrepreneur could be your reason, too." You suggested, and she looks up at you with wide eyes, as though you've just forgiven her of all sins. "When we get to the Boss, we'll take them down, for their sake. All the work we do along the way? It'll be for them, too. We can both parent them. It might be hard with our job and all, but...we can make it work."

"...you'd...let me to be their mother?" Her voice breaks. "You trust me with such a sacred task? But before you said...you didn't...wh-what if I-?"

"Nothing bad will happen to them, my love. We got our coworkers here to look out for them." You brush away her tears, removing her hat so you could kiss the top of her head. And she cuddles back against you.

Seeing her react this way made you wonder if, maybe in a past life, she was a mother at some point...or perhaps, more tragically, she had a child and lost them during the war, and only Meanie was left to carry the burden.

It's no wonder she was falling apart in your arms at the prospect of helping you raise your kid. She didn't want the same tragedy to befall them.

"Don't think of it as an "assignment" or "task" I'm giving you. Something tells me you really, really wanna be in their life. So...do you?"

Before she could give you an answer, your kid comes over, oblivious at first. "Kane is funny. He wants to invite me to a party! Can I.......Miss Ena?" They look at your girlfriend in worry. "Are you..okay?"

She manages to compose herself and sniffles, before Salesperson takes the reigns again. "I'm..operating at a sufficient level." Her smile is gentle as she sits up, her eyes warm as she looks at them. "After much discussion, I am open to being your co-parental unit. Complete with a lifetime supply of love and protection protocols." She extends her clawed hand to them. "Starting today, you may address me as "mom", "mother"....whatever fits your budget."

Your kid takes her hand, but is quick to turn that handshake into a full embrace. "Sounds cool, mom. "

It felt extremely foreign to Ena, to receive physical contact from an entity besides you that's not violent in nature.

But this one is related to you. Made of your own flesh/blood/code/etc. So in a way...you were the one embracing her. And in that way, it made her feel comfortable enough to wrap her arms around them.

Something about this moment brought her peace, as though GØD finally decided to give her a break.

For once, everything was quiet...

Only for it to be disturbed by Kane's yelp of fear and the sound of a meteor crashing.

But right now, none of you were worried about it.

[nebulousmoon3990]

GHOSTS OF THE PAST (Batfam x neglected hero reader)

𓂃› CHRISTMAS SPECIAL

Warning: spelling mistakes (English is not my first language) and the reader has black hair and blue eyes (sorry), fem reader! I accept criticism, everything is fiction!

The lights in New York shone in the middle of the winter night, the snow, fluffy and white, fell slowly due to the cold wind that adorned the city. The moon shone with a subtle glow, illuminating the buildings and streets, on these same streets people were still walking in large numbers, different from normal, the end of the year night made everyone run to buy gifts and prepare for the celebration.

Amidst the vastness of buildings, a solitary figure was hanging from the building. Sitting on her knees, she watched the movement on the avenues.

You had the mask over your face, the penetrating cold on your body made you shiver sometimes, not that you cared about the cold.

But even if you didn't care about the cold or if it caused you discomfort, you knew the limits that the human body could withstand (although you are technically not 'human'), so you had the decency to wear a jacket and raise the hood.

Watching the city and lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed the wind beside you change, but of course your danger sensor never fails, so you knew when he was next to you.

"I thought you'd already left." You heard Conner sigh in defeat, almost laughing at your reaction, almost.

"Nah, I thought I'd keep my favorite spider friend company." He floated next to you, leaning proudly towards you. Before, the constant presence of supers irritated you, but you learned to get used to them, even liking them sometimes.

"Well, you're wasting your time, I'll finish patrol early today." You peeled your hands off the wall, making you stand leaning over the building. Conner's eyes widened, flying closer to you. "W-wait, seriously?!"

Oh, bad choice.

"What, so you actually have a life outside of heroin work?" You rolled your eyes as you walked down the building. You weren't lying, although you would rather finish your patrol, you needed to go to a store. Alex is preparing a night of sweets and homemade food for Christmas, she asked you to pick up some ingredients for her.

"Who would have thought, and here I thought the little spider lived alone and lonely" Conner drastically put his hand on his chest and made a cheap show of you, trying to tease you.

"Ha ha, very funny little super, but since I live alone and lonely, I'll leave now." You launched the web over another building and swung upwards, stopping on a rooftop. You were about to run again when Conner's voice reached you. "Wait, spider!"

You turned to find Conner in front of you, he seemed to want to say something, but gave up. He rubbed his neck, looking away. "I was hoping to convince you to go home but it looks like I'll have to settle for this…"

You turned to him, confused, the snow falling between the two of you. "Settle for what–" Your eyes widened as Conner handed you a gift box, it was wrapped in cupcakes.

You looked at Conner, who was smiling shyly at you. "Merry Christmas Spider-Woman."

Oh

Oh.

You took the gift hesitantly, your red face (thank God) hidden under the mask, you took the box, contouring its folds, when you gathered the courage to speak again. "Thank you Conner, I really appreciate it."

Conner's smile grew bigger than it could, the bright gold smile that lit up any darkness. "No problem, next Christmas I'll convince you to spend it with us."

"Maybe, who knows?"

Conner was surprised again, but this time you didn't let him speak. You activated your camouflage, jumping away from the place, heading home.

But as you jumped between the buildings, a smile appeared on your face.

You were happy, we won't lie.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE 💞

@daiyanomochi - @amber-content - @wizzerreblogs - @foggyv-oid - @kore-of-the-underworld - @theunknowntravel3r - @space1crow - @shortnsweetsposts - @popursocks - @sugasweettea - @salfishers - @itachisank - @jsprien213 - @infirebaby - @yhin-gg -@h-ib @bunbunboysworld - @h-ib - @sheep-from-rad - @tatsuri-zomushiki - @the-holy-pigeon - @geminis93 - @horror-lover-69 - @mybones537 - @eyeless-kun - @timotheechalametswifeys - @justabreadslice - @nymphzy0 - @1-800-g00ber - @pix-stuff - @jsprien213

Bye 𖹭

[mrsfancyferrari]

Lose my Mind

Summary: “The way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind.”

Song: SWIM · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! Also please follow for more! 🫶

Word count: 2.7k

MASTERLIST - F1

The roar of the crowd was a physical thing, pressing against you both as you navigated the throng outside the Mann's Chinese Theatre.

Flashbulbs popped like distant fireworks, momentarily blinding, and the excited chatter of reporters and fans alike created a chaotic symphony. You clung to Charles' arm, the tailored fabric of his suit a reassuring anchor in the storm.

He was devastatingly handsome tonight. The dark suit sculpted to his lean frame, a crisp white shirt peeking from beneath, the way his hair was styled just so... It was all conspiring to make your heart pound a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

This was the premiere of Gladiator, a film he'd been anticipating for years, and you were thrilled to share this moment with him. But beneath the shared excitement, a different kind of thrill thrummed within you, a raw, undeniable desire that threatened to consume you whole.

You'd always found Charles attractive, of course. That was a given. But seeing him amidst this swirling vortex of Hollywood glamour, bathed in the adoring light of the paparazzi, somehow amplified everything.

He wasn’t just your boyfriend; he was a star, a magnet, and you, lucky you, were the one holding his hand.

He turned to you, his smile warm and genuine, cutting through the noise. “Alright, you holding up okay?”

“Perfect,” you managed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just trying to avoid getting trampled.”

He chuckled, his hand tightening on yours. “Don’t worry, I won’t let that happen.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You look incredible tonight, by the way. That dress is… wow.”

The simple compliment sent a wave of heat washing over you. You’d chosen the crimson silk gown specifically because you knew he liked it.

It clung to your curves in all the right places, a subtle declaration of your own desire. “Thank you,” you murmured, suddenly feeling acutely aware of the weight of his gaze.

Inside the theatre, the atmosphere was only marginally less intense. You were ushered to your seats, a pair of plush velvet chairs near the middle of the auditorium.

Charles greeted a few acquaintances, his charm effortless as he exchanged pleasantries.

You watched him, your eyes tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead. You couldn’t help it. He was captivating.

As the lights dimmed and the opening credits rolled, you tried to focus on the film. But your attention kept drifting back to Charles.

You could feel his presence beside you, the subtle shift of his weight as he moved, the faint scent of his cologne. It was a constant, tantalizing distraction.

You glanced at him again, this time catching him staring back at you. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of amusement and something deeper, something that made your pulse quicken. You looked away quickly, your cheeks burning.

The film was epic, a sweeping tale of betrayal, courage, and redemption. The action sequences were brutal, the emotional moments raw and powerful.

But even as you were drawn into the story, you were acutely aware of Charles’ hand resting on your thigh, a casual yet deliberate gesture that sent shivers down your spine.

The tension between you two was building, a silent, electric current that crackled in the air. You knew he felt it too.

The evidence was in the way he kept glancing at you, the way his hand subtly tightened on your leg, the way his breath hitched almost imperceptibly when your eyes met.

During a particularly intense scene, you felt his fingers begin to gently massage your thigh. It was a small, innocent touch, but it sent a jolt of pure sensation through you.

You sucked in a breath, your body responding instantly, instinctively.

He must have felt it, because he leaned in close again, his voice a low murmur that only you could hear. “Enjoying the movie?”

You swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure. “Yes,” you managed, your voice barely a whisper. “It’s… intense.”

“Intense,” he echoed, his eyes fixed on yours. “That’s one word for it.” His gaze lingered on your lips, and you felt your own parting slightly in anticipation.

After the movie ended, the applause was deafening. People rose to their feet, cheering and clapping, their faces flushed with excitement. You and Charles joined in, but your attention remained focused on each other.

As you made your way out of the theatre, he kept his arm around your waist, guiding you through the crowd. The press was waiting outside, eager to capture the reactions of the stars.

Charles stopped to answer a few questions, his smile still in place, his demeanor effortlessly charming.

You stood beside him, trying to look composed, but inside you were a mess of conflicting emotions. You wanted to be alone with him, to shed the pretense of the evening and give in to the desire that was consuming you. But you also knew that wasn't possible, not here, not now.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you were able to escape the throng and slip into the waiting car. Charles closed the door behind you, shutting out the noise and the lights, creating a small, private sanctuary.

He turned to you, his expression serious. “You were very quiet during the movie,” he said, his voice low.

You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. “I… I was enjoying it,” you stammered. “But I was also… distracted.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Distracted, huh? By what?”

You took a deep breath, deciding to be honest. “By you,” you admitted. “You looked… incredible tonight.”

His smile widened, and he reached out to gently cup your face in his hands. “And you looked absolutely breathtaking. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“Me neither,” you confessed, your voice barely audible.

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours. “Do you know,” he whispered, “the way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind.”

Your breath hitched. He had noticed. He had seen past the façade, recognized the desire that you were trying so hard to conceal.

“Charles,” you breathed, your voice trembling.

He kissed you then, a slow, tender kiss that sent a wave of pure pleasure through you. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, of desire, of a connection that ran deeper than words.

When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless. He looked at you, his eyes dark and intense. “What do you want to do?” he asked, his voice husky.

The possibilities swirled through your mind, a dizzying array of choices. You could go home with him, surrender to the desire that had been building all night. You could prolong the anticipation, savor the tension, and see where the night took you.

You looked into his eyes, searching for an answer. You saw desire there, yes, but also something else, something deeper. Respect. Understanding. A willingness to let you choose.

”I…” you started, unsure of what to say. You needed to think, to process everything that had happened, to decide what you truly wanted.

The limousine pulled up to your apartment building. Charles looked at you expectantly. The moment of truth had arrived.

You took a deep breath, a small smile playing on your lips. “Let’s go upstairs,” you said, your voice filled with a newfound confidence. “And we can talk.”

The elevator ride to your apartment was agonizingly slow, each second stretching out like a taut wire. You could feel the heat radiating from Charles' body as he stood behind you, his hands resting lightly on your hips. His breath was warm against your neck, sending delicious little tingles down your spine.

"I've missed this," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate through every inch of you.

As the elevator doors finally slid open, you led him down the hallway, your heels clicking against the tiles. The anticipation grew with every step, until you could feel it as a palpable force, a heady cocktail of desire and nerves.

Once inside your apartment, you turned to face him, your heart hammering in your chest. "You know what I've been thinking about?" you asked, your voice a little breathless.

"I might have an idea," he said with a smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief.

You stepped closer, pressing your body against his. "I want you to make me feel alive," you whispered, your voice a soft caress against his cheek.

His smile grew wider, his eyes darkening. "Is that all?"

"No," you said, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips. "I want you to make me forget everything else. Just for tonight."

He didn't need further prompting. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer, his mouth descending to claim yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a kiss that spoke of two years of pent-up passion, of late-night fantasies and stolen moments.

As his tongue slipped between your parted lips, you felt your knees go weak. His hands began to explore, gliding over your curves with a confidence that was as thrilling as it was terrifying.

You could feel his desire, hard and insistent against your thigh, and a pulse of need bloomed between your legs.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, and he took the opportunity to trail kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. "Take off your dress," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear.

You complied, letting the fabric pool at your feet. His eyes raked over you, taking in the sight of your lace lingerie and the way your body reacted to his touch.

His gaze was like a physical caress, making you feel exposed and vulnerable, yet somehow more powerful than you had ever felt before.

You reached for the buttons of his tuxedo, your fingers fumbling with the tiny teeth. He stepped back, allowing you to admire the way the material parted, revealing his broad chest and the flat plane of his stomach.

He shrugged off the jacket, letting it fall to the floor, and then helped you with the rest, until he was standing before you in nothing but his boxer briefs.

You stepped closer again, running your hands over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the thud of his heart beneath your palms. His hands found the clasp of your bra, and with a deft twist, it fell away, leaving your breasts bare to his hungry gaze.

He bent down to kiss one, then the other, his tongue swirling around your nipples until they were tight and aching.

You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. His hands moved to your hips, sliding the fabric of your underwear down until it joined your discarded clothing.

Now you were both naked, standing in the dimly lit apartment, your bodies pressed together as if trying to become one.

He picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and carried you to the bedroom. The journey was short but seemed to last an eternity, every step sending a new wave of sensation crashing through you.

He laid you down on the bed, the softness of the comforter a stark contrast to the urgent need that pulsed between you.

The months without sex had been a torturous dance of self-control and frustration, dictated by the relentless pace of his Formula 1 career.

The endless travel, the training, the pressure to perform had kept him away from you, leaving only stolen glances and passionate whispers over the phone to sustain the flame of your desire.

Now, with his racing suit a memory and the scent of his cologne filling the room, you were acutely aware of every inch of skin that had been denied for so long. His kisses grew more urgent, his hands more insistent, and you couldn’t help but arch into him, desperate to feel the weight of him above you.

He slid his hand down your stomach, teasing the dampness between your thighs, and you bit your lip to hold back a whimper. His touch was like a brand, marking you as his once again, and you felt your body responding, eager and willing.

As he positioned himself between your legs, you felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. The months of abstinence had made you both ravenous for each other, and the anticipation was almost too much to bear.

With a gentle nudge, he entered you, filling the emptiness that had haunted you for too long.

You gasped, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, slowly at first, as if reacquainting himself with the rhythm that was so familiar yet so long lost.

Each stroke was like a promise, a reminder of the connection that had been denied by the unforgiving calendar of F1. Your bodies melded together, moving as one, the friction creating a delicious heat that threatened to consume you both.

You met his gaze, the intensity of his eyes reflecting the depth of your need. "I love you," you murmured, the words a whispered benediction that seemed to unlock something within him.

He responded with a deep, guttural groan, his movements becoming more forceful, his hips driving into you with a passion that was almost violent in its intensity.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with the desperate sounds of pleasure that you couldn’t hold back.

The orgasm built within you, a crescendo of sensation that started in your core and radiated outward, making your toes curl and your vision swim. When it crashed over you, it was like nothing you had ever experienced before, a wave of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

As you lay there, panting and spent, his body still joined with yours, you felt a tear slip down your cheek. It was a release of emotion that had been dammed up for too long, a testament to the power of this moment.

He kissed it away, his lips tender against your skin. "I love you too," he whispered. "And I promise, it won't be another few months before I make you feel like this again."

In that moment, the world outside your bedroom ceased to exist.

The only thing that mattered was the love and passion that bound you together, the promise of a future filled with moments just like this one. . . . .

[ekybrini]

you're the right one | Will Smith

Request: Hi! I have a request if you are up to writing it. Can I please request a Will Smith fic where he and reader are out on a date, and people keep coming up to ask for pictures and autographs, and she happily takes pictures if asked, but for the most part the fans ignore her or make snide remarks. And she starts feeling bad because she feels that she can’t keep up with his world and doesn’t belong with him. And so Will invites her over and he makes her dinner and gets her flowers, does everything. And he basically praises her and thanks her for staying with him and supporting him through his rookie year.

— ⟡ summary | After a rough night out leaves y/n feeling out of place, Will comforts her with flowers, dinner, and gentle reminders that she means everything to him.

— ⟡ warnings | None (that I know of)

— ⟡ word count | 2.3k

— ⟡ gabs note | hiiii !!!! I finally finished this after like almost a month of it being in my drafts lol. Who knew the last two months of school were actually going to be a living hell. THANKFULLY I graduate in exactly a month so I'll be able to start being more active on here which means more post!! if anyone would like to request something don't hesitate !! I won't get to them right away but I will end up writing it sometimes when I have time.

You tell yourself it didn't bother you at first.

The stares. The whispers. Or how your name gets left out of every “Can I get a picture with you, will?” request.

That is just part of dating him. 

You try to focus on the warmth in his eyes. The way his knee brushes against yours under the table. The way he said “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” when he picked you up tonight after the two long roadies.

And he meant that.

The first fan comes by after your appetizers hit the table. Young guy, maybe in high school, nervous, polite, asking to sign a sharks jersey. Will grins, he takes a picture and signs the jersey. He is sweet about it, he always is. You simile and even offer to take the picture. You’ve gotten used to this by now. You’ve known what it meant to be with him since the beginning of your relationship. 

You just didn’t expect the stream of fans to keep coming. 

Another one stops mid conversation. Then another. And another. You take a couple more pictures. Will never says no. He apologies each time with a sheepish smile and squeezes your hand each time, but you can feel the distance building up with every polite interruption. 

Your food arrives. You push it around your plate, your appetite fading like the candle in front of you guys. 

And of course it happens again.

You're mid laugh at something Will said, something genuinely funny, something that made you forget about how you two can’t seem to have a private moment when a group of girls passes by your table. They slow down pretending to glance at their menu, but their eyes are on Will.

“He’s even cuter in person,” one whispers.

Another snorts softly. “No kidding. And he’s with her?”

“He could definitely do better if he tried.” The girl replied back. 

Will stiffens next to you like he heard it too.

But you don’t wait to see if he’ll say something. You excuse yourself with a bright smile and make your way to the bathroom before your voice cracks.

You stare at yourself in the mirror feeling your chest get tight, fingers gripping the edge of the sink until your knuckles ache.

You knew it could be like this. You’ve seen the comments online, the subtle glances, the disbelief in people’s faces when they realize you're together. You always thought you could handle it. You thought if you loved him enough, if he loved you enough it wouldn’t matter.

But tonight, it feels like you’re trying to breathe underwater.

You fix your makeup, though it doesn’t fix anything. You smooth down your dress, though it still doesn’t feel like it fits right. You stare at yourself until the flush in your cheeks fades enough to pass as normal, then go back out there and pretend you weren’t just unraveling in a public restroom.

Will’s sitting up straighter when you return. There’s a shared dessert waiting at your seat, your favorite, a small cookie pie with vanilla ice cream on top. 

His smile is small, searching. “Thought we could end the night on a sweet note.”

You sit down feeling your heart twisting.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “That’s really sweet of you.”

He watches you for a moment longer than usual. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.”

It’s not a lie. You’ve had a long day, but it's not the reason for you shutting down. 

He doesn’t push. He never does when you shut down like this. Instead, he forks a bite of cookie and offers it to you across the table.

You take it.

You make it through dessert. You make it through the ride home. He tells you he’ll text you when he makes it home. kisses your temple like he always does, lingering just long enough for you to feel guilty for pulling away.

You go inside and lean against the door, blinking against the burn behind your eyes.

Will hasn’t done anything wrong. That’s the hardest part.

He’s just being himself, kind, open, unaware of every careless comment, every ignored glance, every fan who acts like you’re invisible. He doesn’t know how small you felt tonight. How you keep wondering if people see you and think he settled.

You crawl into bed fully dressed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind looping that one cruel comment over and over again.

And he’s with her? 

You close your eyes and try not to cry.

The next morning you wake to the soft buzz of your phone on the nightstand. It will.  It’s still dark out, the sky a dull gray that matches the fog in your chest.

“Good morning, pretty girl. Hope you slept okay.”

Your chest tightens. You stare at the message for a while then type back slowly.

“Morning. Slept alright. Hope practice isn’t too rough today.”

You press send before you can second guess yourself. It’s casual. Normal. Exactly the kind of message he’s used to from you. But it feels like a lie, even if the words are technically true.

You’re not ignoring him. You just can’t bring yourself to say what’s really on your mind.

The way the girl at the restaurant looked you up and down like you were some sort of joke. The way you felt more like a shadow than someone’s date. The way Will didn’t seem to notice.

You know it’s not fair to hold that against him. He wasn’t the one who made you feel small, but he also didn’t notice that you were shrinking.

Later, you respond to another one of his texts, something simple about what you’re watching on TV, what you’re having for lunch. You even throw in a little joke. You’re trying. You really are.

And Will is sweet like always.

“Can’t believe you’re watching that without me. Rude.” Will send the message after telling him you’re watching glee.

“You were the one who fell asleep halfway through the last episode. I’m taking initiative.”

He replies with a string of laughing emojis and a gif that makes you smile, just a little.

It’s fine. Everything’s fine. At least that's what you’re telling yourself.

Because every time your phone lights up with his name you feel that familiar twist in your stomach. Like there’s something caught in your throat, something heavy sitting on your chest. Like you’re pretending everything is normal when inside you’re spinning.

You want to tell him. But you don’t want him to think it’s stupid about you being upset over a comment. You know it shouldn’t have hurt you the way it did. 

So you keep replying. Keep smiling through texts. Keep laughing at the right moments. Because silence would make him worry and you don’t want him to worry.

“Come over tonight?”

Your thumb hovers over the screen. You hesitate not because you don’t want to see him, but because you’re scared he’ll see right through you. 

Still, you reply.

“Sure. What time?”

His response is nearly instant.

“Whenever you want. I’ll cook. Something fancy and probably half burnt, but made with love”

That makes your lips twitch, just a little.

By the time you knock on his door, your stomach is in knots. You try to smooth out your expression when he answers, wearing a hoodie with the sleeves pushed up, hair slightly damp, the smell of garlic and something sweet wafting from the kitchen.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

Will leans in and presses a kiss to your temple before pulling you inside. “Hey, you,” he says. “I missed you.”

You nod, setting your bag down. You don’t trust your voice to work yet.

“I went all out,” he says as he leads you to the kitchen. “Like, full Pinterest boyfriend levels. There are candles. I obviously couldn't get wine but if you wanted the full experience i got grape juice if not i got sodas. And I even tried to fold the napkins into those little triangle things. Don’t look too closely.”

Sure enough there’s a small dinner spread waiting on the table. It’s simple pasta, salad, garlic bread slightly burnt around the edges but it’s warm, thoughtful, and made by him. 

And sitting right in the middle of the table is a small bouquet of flowers. Tulips with a mix of wildflowers, your favorite.

You blink. “Will”

He shrugs, suddenly shy. “I know you’ve had a weird couple of days. Thought maybe this would help.”

You open your mouth to respond, but your throat tightens too fast.

He misreads the silence, smile dimming a little. “I didn’t mean to overdo it. I just I guess I wanted you to know I don’t take you for granted. Not ever.”

Your breath stutters. The lump in your throat threatens to spill over.

You reach for a flower stem with trembling fingers. “They’re beautiful,” you whisper.

He nods, watching you carefully. “So are you.”

Will pulls out your chair and sits beside you instead of across, his thigh pressed lightly to yours.

“I don’t know what’s been bothering you,” he says, voice softer now. “But whatever it is, you don’t have to hide it from me.”

You want to tell him everything. The whispers. The way you felt like you didn’t belong. The way his world sometimes feels too loud, too polished, too far from yours.

But for now, you lean your head on his shoulder and he lets you stay quiet.

After a while of silence you pick at your pasta more than you eat it, but the warmth of the food and the soft music Will put on in the background helps ease the ache that’s been sitting in your chest. Will doesn’t push. He just chats about his last practice, about how one of the guys slipped during warmups, how the locker room smelled like actual death because Macklin left a protein shake in his bag over the weekend. You smile weakly at the stories, letting them wrap around you like a blanket.

But eventually, the words stop. He glances over at you, eyes searching and says gently, “You’ve been quiet lately. I mean, more than usual.”

You stare down at your plate. Your fork scrapes against ceramic, and your voice is barely audible when you say, “Yeah. Im sorry”

Will doesn't rush you. He just waits.

Eventually, you set your fork down and take a breath, fingers curling into your lap.

"It was at the restaurant," you say, voice barely more than a whisper.

Will looks up, confusion flickering across his face. He doesn’t say anything, just waits.

"Our date," you add, still not looking at him. “When those fans kept coming over.”

His expression softens, and you can tell he thinks you’re about to say you were overwhelmed by the attention, maybe annoyed. But that’s not it.

“Some of their remarks are incredibly hurtful sometimes. I overheard someone ask if I was your assistance when I was walking to the bathroom. And then there were ones whose whispers were just too loud.”

You pause, swallowing hard.

“They said you could do better and I know,” you add quickly, “I know people say stupid things all the time. I know it’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But you still felt like shit,” he finishes for you, voice low.

You nod. “I smiled through it. I laughed. Took the photos. And then I went home and felt like maybe they were right.”

“I wish you had told me,” he murmurs. “I wish I’d noticed.”

“I didn’t want to ruin the night. You looked happy.”

“I was happy. Because I was with you.”

His thumb brushes gently over your knuckles. “Listen to me. I wouldn’t be here with you right now if I thought about what they were saying. I don’t care what some strangers at a restaurant think. You think I could survive this year, this pressure, this schedule, this whole new world without you?”

“You’re the best part of all of it,” he says. “You’re the one who keeps me grounded. Who reminds me who I am. That night, I was proud to have you next to me. I just hate that anyone made you feel like you weren’t enough. Because you are. You’re more than enough.”

Your throat tightens as you finally look at him.

“And I made you your favorite dessert,” he adds, almost sheepish. “It’s in the kitchen. I was gonna wait, but”

You laugh wetly, tears spilling as you cover your face with your hands. “You’re such a sap.”

“I know.” He grins, brushing your hands away gently. “But only for you.”

And when he kisses your lips, soft and unhurried, you let yourself believe it that maybe you do belong here with him after all. 

Later that night, you’re curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, the soft hum of a movie playing in the background. You’re not really watching it, not with Will sitting beside you, one arm around your shoulders, his fingers brushing over your arm in slow, calming strokes.

Will shifts slightly, glancing down at you. “You okay?”

You nod, leaning your head against his chest. “Yeah,” you murmur. “I will be.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere. And if anyone ever makes you feel like that again, I’ll personally throw their soup across the restaurant.”

You laugh softly, the sound catching in your throat. “Please don’t start a food fight because of me.”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

The warmth in his voice melts something in your chest, and for the first time in a few days, the ache feels like it’s fading.

You trace gentle shapes on the inside of his hoodie sleeve. “Thank you,” you say quietly.

He doesn’t ask what for. He just pulls you closer, holds you tighter. And as your eyes begin to drift shut the rhythm of his heartbeat steady in your ear all you can feel is safe and loved.

The world may never stop whispering, but tonight wrapped in Will’s arms you makes you feel as if you don't have anything to worry about.

[taevescence]

She's All I Wanna Be | Kim Seokjin x Reader

Summary: You've loved Jin in silence for years. You’ve been his best friend, his safe place, the one constant in his life. You waited patiently, reading between the lines, believing that one day he’d finally see you as something more. And just when you thought that moment had come, he introduced you to his girlfriend—the first one since you’ve known him. Now, with your heart wavering between habit and longing, you don’t know whether to give up… or fight for him. Author’s note: PLEASE READ BEFORE STARTING! This is the first chapter of the BOTN series (where all 7 members have their own story). Now, if you happened to read the old version—let me tell you, it has nothing to do with this one. I deleted it. It no longer exists. I wanted to make some changes (especially to the narration), so I started from scratch. That’s something I’m planning to do with most of the things I’ve published (except for the ones in the old masterlist). With that said, I really hope you enjoy the fic! I’d love to know what you think 💕 My asks are always open for you! Pairing: Bassist!Jin x Fem!Reader AUs: Band!AU Word count: 6.3k Warnings/tags: Childhood best friends. It’s actually very angsty (not sorry). The reader is a seamstress. There’s subtle, implicit workplace sexism. Jin sends very mixed signals. Oh, and there's a love triangle.  Status: Ongoing. Permanent Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @tan-veee@angellekookie @madussthougths @meadowsweetskoo You can join the taglist here! Dividers by @sisterlucifergraphics

You looked at your reflection through the stained-glass window of the small café where Jin had asked to meet you a few hours earlier. It was tucked behind several large corporate buildings, hidden away by their modern and excessive architecture—a stark contrast that was almost laughable. The café walls mimicked the look of wood, and hundreds of fake vines adorned the interior, giving it a rustic, wild touch. The tables, which you were sure were made of mahogany, were just big enough to seat two people, and the chairs were spacious and comfortable enough to sit in for hours.

It was the perfect place to read on a sunny afternoon—or to sip a warm cup of hot chocolate on a rainy evening. The perfect place for quiet confessions between people who had known each other all their lives.

The thought made your cheeks warm, and your heart skip a few beats in joy.

It was Saturday—the only day you allowed yourself to wake up a bit later than usual. Sleeping in until 9 a.m. was “late” by your standards, especially since you normally got up at 5 on weekdays. Just an hour after your alarm went off, Yellow by Coldplay began to play. You immediately knew it was Jin. He was the only person in your contacts with a personalized ringtone.

You thought he’d say something silly, maybe make a joke, or even call to complain about one of the guys in the band. But he didn’t. His voice was soft, broken up by small, nervous laughs as he mumbled something about meeting in two hours at your usual café—the one you always went to when you needed to catch up or just be with each other.

And you said yes.

Your voice was calm and steady, just as certain as the hundreds of other times you’d said “yes” to Jin over the course of your life. But inside, you were a mess of nerves. Sure, it was normal for Jin to call you on weekends. Yes, it was normal for you two to meet at that old but cozy café. But he’d never sounded like that before. Never that nervous about asking you to hang out.

That made your mind race with possibilities—each one ending with the two of you walking out of that café no longer just childhood friends… but something more.

So, you got dressed up—more than usual. You used the most expensive makeup in your kit, careful to keep the look subtle enough for a coffee shop, but still soft and captivating. You wore a simple yet elegant dress—one that Jin himself had bought for your birthday (and nearly gave you a heart attack when you found out how much it cost). You wore brand-new shoes that you'd originally planned to debut at your sister’s wedding, and you straightened your hair with care, adding a special lotion to make it shinier and softer.

You looked beautiful. You felt beautiful.

You’d arrived about ten minutes ago—almost eleven now—and all you could do was stare at your reflection in the glass, fidgeting with your hair over and over again, trying to fix invisible flaws, trying to calm the rising anxiety with each passing second.

And then Jin arrived.

Your entire body responded to his presence instantly. Your back straightened, your lips parted slightly, and your eyes lit up in a way they hadn’t before.

He wore a simple cream-colored suit that only made his delicate features stand out more. His hair, as always, was perfect—now a rich, dark brown that framed his face beautifully. He spotted you immediately and made his way over with that quiet confidence he always had.

“Before you scold me for being late—it wasn’t my fault,” he said quickly, sitting across from you with that effortlessly elegant air that was so uniquely his. “I had to take a few detours to shake off some reporters who… You know what? Doesn’t matter. What matters is we’re both here—and there’s a killer deal on Saturdays.”

You laughed at the sight of his annoyed expression as he rummaged through his bag—because Jin couldn’t care less if the media called him feminine for carrying a bag—in search of what you assumed was his wallet. You could hear him mumbling under his breath. You couldn’t quite make out the words, but you were sure they were complaints and insults aimed at those ‘lifeless’ people obsessed with him and the other members.

You simply nodded, resting your chin on your hand as you watched every little detail of his face, every small change in expression. You knew the way he’d jerk his head back when something startled or annoyed him. You knew he covered his face when he was embarrassed. You knew his voice got higher and faster when he was upset. You guessed that was the result of a friendship that had lasted over twenty years, born from the affection your mothers had for each other.

“Have you ordered yet? This one’s on me,” he said once he’d finally found his wallet and placed it gently on the table. It had a cute sticker of a little plant with a face. You gave it to him five years ago when you joined a botany club. He stuck it on right away, and it was still there.

“Ah, no, not yet,” you said, clearing your throat as a blush crept up your cheeks. “I wanted to wait for you,” you added quietly. You weren’t sure if he heard you or not. But it didn’t matter—not when you were so sure that today, everything would change.

“Great! Then I’ll get the usual,” he said, turning his head in search of the waitress who usually served you both. She always wore a bright smile, her hair decorated with colorful clips shaped like cats and bunnies that stood out almost as much as her vibrant red hair.

You didn’t catch most of the small talk. You knew both of you had greeted her politely, and that she said something about how lovely you two looked today. Then things got blurry.

You blamed Jin—for looking that good while talking.

There was something about the way he smiled and laughed at his own nonsense that you found utterly endearing. Everything about him was enchanting to you, if we’re being honest—but his smile? Seeing him happy? That’s what you loved the most.

“Let me guess—one slice of cheesecake, one lemon pie, and two cups of coffee?” Saeyoung asked, glancing between the two of you with a knowing look, waiting for confirmation so she could head to the counter.

“You read my mind,” Jin replied with a soft laugh as he pulled out his card. “That, and a tiramisu.”

Saeyoung blinked, confused. You straightened in your seat. The two of you exchanged a silent look, one that said exactly the same thing. Confusion.

In all the years you’d been coming here, Jin had never invited anyone else. Not even the guys from the band. You’d both agreed—this place was your little escape from the world, a hidden corner just for the two of you.

So who was he inviting?

Right then, the soft bell above the door chimed, followed by a gentle click and quick footsteps heading straight toward your table.

Only then did you actually notice the person who had just arrived—now walking toward you both with a bright smile and a hand raised in greeting.

You’d seen hundreds of beautiful women in your life. You went to a school full of wealthy people, the kind who could afford a level of self-care others couldn’t. You’d seen models, actresses, and singers at the events hosted by BOTN. You’d even designed clothes for emerging models—each one stunning.

But her?

She was on a whole different level.

She was much shorter than both you and Jin. With those pink heels, she was probably just barely 5'3". Her skin looked soft and flawless, with a hint of blush on her cheeks. Her nose was small and upturned, and her lips were full and a gorgeous rosy pink that perfectly matched her pale rose suit—which you swore was from Celine. But the most beautiful thing about her? Her eyes. Large, dark, with long lashes that fluttered like butterflies every time she blinked.

In short, she looked like an angel.

“Yeji! You made it,” Jin said, standing up the second he saw her approaching. He stepped aside and pulled a chair over from another table, placing it in the empty spot between you both. He held it open until she sat down, then finally sat again himself.

“Yeah, I got a bit lost getting here. All the streets looked the same,” She adjusted herself in the chair with a clumsy gesture, fixing a strand of blonde hair—which obviously wasn't natural, but suited her so well she could have been born with that color—pushing it behind her ear. You noticed how her cheeks turned even redder when she mentioned getting lost. Oh, and of course, you noticed that her voice was one of the softest and warmest you had heard in at least the last two years.

Was everything about her really this… sweet and beautiful?

“Y/N, this is Yeji.” He was looking at you. But his hand was resting on Yeji’s on the table, his thumb gently stroking her hand. All of this while his gaze remained fixed on you. Warm. Soft. In love. But not with you. “My girlfriend.”

Everything stopped for a second. The air in your lungs seemed to vanish, your heart seemed to stop beating, and your head went completely blank. You were sure your whole body was tense, your hands, which were now clasped together on the table, were gripping way too tightly, and your eyes were fixed on ‘Yeji’ with tears threatening to spill at any moment.

But it was only for a second.

You took a breath. It was a little shaky, probably too close to a sob, but no tears came. You wouldn’t let yourself cry—not now, not with both of them here. Not after hearing that.

You cleared your throat, counted to three, and put on the same smile you always gave Jin. And to Yeji.

“Your girlfriend? You never told me about her. How long have you been together?” You subtly lowered your hands, afraid Jin would see them trembling, afraid he would notice that crack the news had just made. He couldn’t see it. He couldn’t know how you felt about him.

Why had you thought today would change things?

Why did you believe it was mutual?

“We’ve been together for three months!” Yeji answered, her eyes quickly moving to Jin, sparkling in a way you knew all too well. Your eyes sparkled that way when you looked at him. “Jin has told me so much about you over these past few months that I couldn’t help but beg him to introduce us.”

Now all her attention was on you. She took your hands from under the table, holding them between hers, smiling at you with so much emotion that you almost felt guilty. Why did you feel guilty?

“Jin always mentioned how beautiful you were, but seeing you in person is really something else.”

You tried to smile. You tried to be as polite as possible. But it was hard. There were so many questions running through your head, so many things you couldn’t understand. Why had he told her about you? Because you were his best friend, of course—his parents knew you too—but why had he told her he thought you were beautiful?

Did it matter? The answer was simple. No. Because even if he spoke about you, even if he told her you were beautiful, it was her who was by his side.

And you’d have to watch from afar. Again.

Jin wasn’t a womanizer, at least not the type you saw in movies. During his teenage years, he never had a girlfriend. You knew this because you were inseparable, nobody could separate you, and you spent most of your time together, hardly talking to anyone else.

Things changed when he started his band project, specifically when they released their first album. It was a huge success, playing on every local radio station, and all the young people seemed to love the songs. And the members.

It was after a month of releasing the first album that this “womanizer phase” began. He went out with several girls, not for just one night, but for short periods—one month, maybe three. It had never been serious. He had never introduced you to any of them. You knew from rumors, from women’s clothes in his apartment, from the loving calls and messages you sometimes saw by accident on his phone.

Jin had never given any hints about his love life with you, and for some reason, that gave you hope.

Because despite being able to be with any of those beautiful and talented women, he always came back to you. You were always by his side.

But it wasn’t until this moment that you realized; you were always there because he considered you his best friend, not because he was in love with you.

And Yeji was the perfect example of that realization.

“Thank you, Yeji. Can I call you that?” You kept your eyes locked on hers, afraid to face Jin right now, afraid he would notice your fear, your shame, your sadness. You wanted to run. You wanted to disappear completely.

But you wouldn’t. Because Jin’s happiness came before your selfish desires. Because before being in love with him, you were his friend.

“Oh, of course! We’re the same age anyway.” She nodded quickly before relaxing her smile a little. No, it wasn’t relaxed. It was a shy smile, embarrassed, fearful. “Ah, sorry, am I being too forward? We’ve just met, and I already took your hands like this, how rude of me!” She let go of your hands, leaving them gently on your lap. You noticed how hers were shaking, how, despite her cheerful expression, there seemed to be a hint of fear hidden beneath.

“Don’t worry, I have a friend who’s much, um, more expressive with her affection.” You said softly, as if trying to calm her. You were trying to, weren’t you? “You can call me Y/N if you want,” you leaned in a little closer to her, lowering your voice just enough to make it seem like a secret between you two, though you were sure Jin would hear it perfectly. “Between us, I’m not a big fan of honorifics.”

You smiled faintly when you heard her laugh at your comment. It hurt. It hurt seeing her be so beautiful and speaking harmoniously, it hurt that even her personality at first glance seemed kind. It hurt because you couldn’t hate her.

When you looked at Jin again, his eyes were fixed on yours. The warmth from before was still there, you could feel it, from his smile, from his relaxed posture. Why did he have to look at you with that gaze that seemed to want to give everything, if he’d never give it all to you?

Maybe that was what hurt the most.

“And he told you she was his girlfriend? Seriously?” Chaeyoung, who was barely managing to stuff more food into her mouth, frowned at you. She was wearing a T-shirt you were pretty sure belonged to Yoongi, and a pair of shorts way too short for how cold it was at this hour. “That’s so weird. Who sets up a breakfast meeting to introduce their girlfriend? Like, couldn’t he have just called you at, I don’t know, four or something?”

“You’re totally missing the point of this conversation, Chaeyoung,” Sooah mumbled. Her lilac iPad —the one she took everywhere— sat on her side of the table, screen filled with rows of meetings and deadlines. Her phone displayed a bunch of agency contacts she was quickly scribbling down on one of the napkins they’d gotten with their order. “Though, she’s not wrong. It is weird. He didn’t even tell us he was seeing someone. Maybe I should talk to him tomorrow.” The last part was more to herself than to either of you.

Sooah had been the boys’ manager not long after they debuted. She was organized, level-headed, and ridiculously smart. She was, in short, the perfect woman to put opportunistic companies in their place and demand proper pay and treatment for the boys. She’d been one of the group’s biggest pillars, and everyone —from the members to the fans— knew that a good part of their success came from her relentless work and effort to get people to see them.

“So this is the first time he’s ever introduced one of his girlfriends to you?” She grabbed one of the soju bottles on the table, opened it effortlessly, and took a sip. Her eyes stayed on you the entire time, like she was waiting for an answer you couldn’t give her. At least not right now. You were still way too shocked to even process the news. “She must be someone really special if he did that.” She paused, registering what she’d just said. Realizing she’d just hit a nerve.

Sooah gave her a raised eyebrow. You covered your face with both hands. She looked between the two of you and let out a short, awkward laugh.

“But he told you first! That makes you special too!” Chaeyoung turned to Sooah with pleading eyes, silently begging her to help smooth things over, to say something that would lighten the mood.

She didn’t.

“He took her to our special place,” you mumbled, still hiding your face in your hands. You could hear your voice —how it sounded like a child throwing a tantrum because someone else had just played in the sandbox you’d guarded your whole life. You remembered reading somewhere that when sadness and heartbreak overwhelm you, you tend to regress a little. Act younger than you are. And now you got it. You got it so well it made you feel embarrassed.

You were better than this.

But here you were, one second away from crying because a sweet, beautiful girl had stolen the heart of the man you thought was the love of your life.

Both Chaeyoung and Sooah exchanged a look. They’d spent years around you; by this point, they were almost your best friends —though Sooah would never admit that out loud. You and Sooah had known each other since 2013, the year BOTN debuted. Chaeyoung joined the circle three years later, and the three of you had been practically inseparable ever since. How could you not be? You saw each other more than anyone else in your lives.

Sooah was always wherever the group was —constantly keeping things in check, making sure everything ran smoothly. Chaeyoung… well, she was wherever Yoongi was. Every concert, every shoot —always there to support him. Perks of being your own boss. And you, you’d always been there for Jin. To remind him he was doing amazing work when he felt down, to be in the crowd at every show just so he wouldn’t feel alone.

Now you weren’t even sure if you had the right to do that anymore. Was it even okay, when he had a girlfriend who was probably ready to do all of that for him?

“Y/N,” Sooah started, letting out a soft sigh before turning off her iPad and giving you her full attention, “have you thought that maybe… it’s time to let him go?”

“Wait, what?” Chaeyoung shook her head like she’d just heard the dumbest thing ever. “No way. Absolutely not. She’s been in love with him for years! You can’t just let go after spending over a decade trying to win him over —that would be such a waste of time!”

“Exactly. She’s already wasted enough time chasing someone who never loved her back. She’s 25 now. It’s time to move on. There are hundreds of men out there who could replace him,” she crossed her arms, eyes locked on you even though her words were aimed at Chaeyoung.

You were pretty sure their argument went on for a while, but you were too focused on your untouched plate to care about what they were saying.

Everything around you started to blur, fade out —the noise, the smell of grilled meat and smoke, the faint music playing from an old radio, the soft rustling of the tent’s plastic flaps.

All you could hear now was Jin’s voice introducing you to his girlfriend. Yeji’s voice, greeting you like she genuinely liked you. Like she expected the two of you to be friends. And all you could see was the way Jin’s eyes sparkled. The way he sparkled.

You frowned. Closed your eyes. Counted to ten.

You weren’t going to cry.

“I’m not going to do anything,” you whispered. But you knew they both heard it, because their voices fell silent instantly. You didn’t look at them. You couldn’t. “I don’t want to replace him, because I know no one could ever take Jin’s place.” You took a breath, straightened your posture, and looked at your two friends —hoping that just doing that might make it easier to carry the weight on your chest. “But I’m not going to get in the middle of his relationship either. That girl… Yeji… she doesn’t deserve that. And Jin doesn’t either.”

Sooah sighed. Chaeyoung looked at you with sympathy. And you… you just tried your best to finish the food on your plate despite the lump in your throat.

A week.

It had been a week since Jin's confession, and the world kept turning.

People still walked from work to their homes, the sun still rose in the morning, time kept moving forward—but not in the same way it used to.

You got up at five, did your workout routine, took a shower, had breakfast. By eight, you were on your way to work; you arrived, worked on your designs, followed your boss’s orders, ate lunch, went back to work. At seven, you went home, had dinner, changed into your pajamas, watered your plants, went to bed. By eleven thirty, you were fast asleep.

Life went on. But you felt more stuck than ever.

You tried to distract yourself with work, tried to take extra hours, avoid Jin’s calls, reply to his messages as dryly as possible. You tried to set a boundary—for your own good, and for the sake of Jin’s relationship.

But it wasn’t easy to ignore your best friend.

“Ugh, that meeting was so boring. I don’t know why Mr. Lee can’t just give us a summary,” said Soojin, a young intern who’d been hired a few months ago. She had a wild fashion sense and wasn’t what you’d call “subtle” when it came to complaining about work. But she was good company.

You weren’t really listening to the rest of her rant. You were too focused on your phone’s inbox.

25 messages. You had 25 messages from Jin. Most of them were him telling you about his day—he always did that, you always talked about your days at work. Your shared chat was like a diary, one filled with references only the two of you understood, full of thoughts and feelings neither of you could share with anyone else because they belonged to just the two of you.

You turned off your phone.

“You can leave early if you want, I’ve got something to discuss with Mr. Lee before heading out,” you said suddenly, cutting off Soojin’s verbal vomit. She just blinked and shrugged before kissing you on the cheek and wishing you “good luck.”

You slipped your phone into one of your coat pockets and walked to your desk to grab a lime green folder. Your name was written on it in delicate, elegant handwriting. You’d made it when you graduated college, determined to use it one day to show your designs to your future boss. Determined to chase your dream.

You hadn’t dared to use it until now. Maybe because, in a way, you felt like you couldn’t possibly feel worse than you already did.

Your heart had been broken less than a week ago. If it broke again now, while the wound was still fresh, maybe it would save you from suffering later. Did that logic make sense? Probably not.

You walked toward Mr. Lee’s office, clutching the folder to your chest, head held high. Confidence is everything. If you believe in what you do—even if it’s stupid—you’ll convince anyone. Or at least that’s what your mom always said.

You knocked on the glass door with your knuckles—two soft taps—and Mr. Lee, already in his 60s, looked up from the stack of papers on his desk to give you a cold, sharp stare. Your whole body froze, and the only thing left inside you was regret and the urge to run away.

But you didn’t. It was too late now.

You walked in quietly, deliberately looking around the office to avoid his gaze. The shelves sparkled, the floor looked like a mirror, and his desk was so clean that if it weren’t for the metal supports, you wouldn’t even see it.

“Miss Y/N, care to explain why you’re in my office at this hour?” His raspy voice and condescending tone made you shrink where you stood. He had always seemed like a serious, intimidating man; no one ever dared speak up in meetings, no one ever looked him in the eye, and you didn’t think you’d ever heard anyone say they’d had a friendly chat with him after work.

The last time you saw someone come out of his office, the guy had tears all over his face.

“I’m sorry for bothering you so late, Mr. Lee,” you murmured, head down, eyes on your nails—painted the same color as your folder. You took a breath. Tried to think of something that would calm you. Plants. You loved plants. How about a field? A field full of exotic flowers and the smell of wet soil. You, sitting on a hill in the middle of it. Jin beside you. The weight in your chest eased just a bit. “I know you’re a busy man, so I’ll be brief.”

You reached out and handed him your folder. This time, you ignored his disapproving look.

“I’d like you to take a look at my designs,” you said in the firmest tone you could muster. You were surprised you didn’t stutter at all.

Mr. Lee’s eyes fell on the folder. Your heart nearly stopped when he took it from your hands, opened it, and flipped through the pages in silence. You had spent years working on those designs. He took less than a minute to glance through them and toss them into the corner of his desk.

“The next time you waste my time, I hope it’s for something actually worth it, Miss Y/N.”

He didn’t even look at them. Not really.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time,” you whispered, gathering your things, bowing at a perfect ninety degrees, and walking out of his office.

You didn’t start crying until you got back to your desk. But it wasn’t the loud, sobbing, throat-burning kind of crying. It was the silent kind. The kind of crying that comes when you’re resigned. When you just accept what happened because you weren’t expecting anything better.

Because deep down, you knew he was going to reject you.

And you weren’t sure if you were crying over your boss’s rejection, or Jin’s.

You didn’t bother wiping your tears away—there was no point. They’d keep falling until you found at least a little bit of relief. You packed up your things, much slower than usual. Not like you had anything else to do afterward.

You don’t remember exactly how you got to the company’s entrance, but you knew you’d looked down when you passed Mr. Lee’s office again. You remembered getting into the elevator and seeing your reflection—broken, sad, empty. That only made you cry harder.

But no one said anything. Because people are like that. They can see someone crying their eyes out in the middle of the street and still do nothing to help.

And you were really, really grateful for that right now.

The walk from the elevator to the exit was a bit clearer. You remembered saying goodbye to the security guards, hearing the sound of your heels echoing with every step, watching your tears hit the floor, and the tightness in your chest making it hard to breathe properly.

And then you heard his voice. That’s the part you remember the clearest.

“Y/N?”

You looked up, biting the inside of your lip when you saw Jin standing at the entrance, wearing a wool hat you’d given him back when you finished school and a black face mask barely covering his chin. His phone was in his hands. You felt your pocket vibrate.

He was calling you.

“Are you crying?” He already knew the answer. Of course he did—that’s why he didn’t wait for a reply. He rushed over to you, cupping your face in his hands, checking you carefully, with that worried look that made your heart skip because it meant he cared. “What happened? Did you get hurt? Did some jerk try to touch you? Because if someone—swear to God I’ll—”

You didn’t let him finish. You couldn’t. You wrapped your arms around his waist and let everything you’d been holding in that week pour out. The guilt was still there, eating you up inside, but the pain—and the need to feel him close, to get even the tiniest bit of comfort—was stronger.

You felt his body relax in your arms, and almost instantly, his arms wrapped around you. He buried his face in your shoulder, held you like he was the one who needed the hug, like he was the one who had missed you the way you missed him.

“I want to go home,” you whispered against his chest, gripping his jacket like your life depended on it. Maybe because, in that moment, it kind of did.

“I brought my car.” He didn’t move. If anything, he held you tighter. One of his hands slid into your hair, gently stroking it—just like he always did when you cried. “I’ll take you.”

"I can’t believe he did that. What’s his problem?" Jin said, his voice slightly higher and more irritated than usual. His brows were furrowed and his lips formed an almost imperceptible pout. He was angry. He was angry because your boss had dismissed your effort. You’d be lying if you said that didn’t feel good. "Your work is seriously amazing. Our fans always go crazy when you design our outfits."

You let out a soft laugh. Faint. Jin wasn’t wrong—his fans had always appreciated the style you gave the boys because you cared about their comfort and essence. You weren’t just looking for something that looked cool—you wanted their outfits to scream their personalities. You wanted them to be iconic, memorable, something that felt like part of who they were.

So far, you’d done a great job.

"I need that party pooper’s approval, not your fans’, you know?" you muttered, looking at the coffee mug resting on the glass coffee table. You really liked glass tables, and you loved decorating them with small plants in pastel-colored pots. There was something about those things—clean, natural, fragrant—that calmed you, even just a little.

They gave you peace. The kind of peace you could only find at home.

"My fans are way more important than that bald guy," he shook his head, as if he was genuinely confused about how you could even compare them to his sweet little Stars. You’d never fully liked the name they gave their fandom. But you never said anything.

"I wish it felt that way," you pulled your legs up, hugging them tightly enough to rest your chin on your knees. The coffee was still on the table. The steam had nearly stopped rising.

You both shared a silence. Long. Peaceful. Without the same tension that had lingered between you ever since Jin introduced you to Yeji. For the first time in these seven days, you finally stopped feeling that weight in your chest that seemed to freeze time.

For once, it was just you and him.

"Jokes aside," Jin set his own mug next to yours. His was a lovely pastel pink. Yours was cream-colored. "You’re incredible, Y/N. Seriously. And the only one losing here is him." He placed a hand on your back. His fingers tangled in your hair again, his eyes lost somewhere in the blank space on your back. "He has no idea what an amazing woman he’s letting go of."

Your heart skipped a beat. Your breath caught. And you couldn’t resist lifting your gaze to meet his face.

It didn’t feel like he was talking about your boss. It felt far too personal. You felt it too personally.

You didn’t know when it had happened exactly, but his face was much closer to yours now. Barely a breath separated you. You both stared in silence, and the tension you thought had been left behind wrapped around you again, suffocating. And this time, you were sure you weren’t the only one feeling it.

His eyes looked darker, his lips were pressed together, and you could see his Adam’s apple move nervously every few seconds.

Before you could think, before you could even question what was happening between the two of you, you opened your mouth, the doubt planted in you since meeting Yeji finally breaking free.

"Why didn’t you ever mention her?" you whispered, afraid that speaking louder would shatter the atmosphere and lead you both to make a mistake you’d regret the next day.

"Why have you been ignoring me?" he replied, his eyes scanning every inch of your face, studying it carefully. You were sure they lingered a little longer on your lips.

"I didn’t want to overstep."

"I didn’t want you to meet her."

You swallowed hard. Bit the inside of your cheek. Spoke again.

"Why?"

"Because that makes it real."

You wanted to look away, to hold on to your principles, to remind yourself that this was all in your head—that he wasn’t really looking at you with that intense gleam in his eyes, that he wasn’t actually glancing at your lips every five seconds.

You wanted to remind yourself that none of those gestures belonged to you.

But it was too hard.

"Then why did you introduce me to her in the first place?" Why are you with her? That was the real question you wanted to ask—the one that gnawed at you so much it made your heart ache. But you couldn’t say it out loud.

That question seemed to shatter the moment entirely. Jin looked away and ran a hand through his hair. His eyes blinked fast, his head tilted back, and he looked so confused and hurt—like he wasn’t even sure of the answer himself, like saying it out loud would sting.

"She wanted to meet you," he murmured, his voice a little hoarser, his eyes avoiding yours completely. "She really liked you."

You let your legs fall, stretching them across the floor. You looked back at the coffee; this time, there wasn’t a single trace of steam left.

"Why were you talking to her about me?"

"Because you’re the most important person to me."

The words came out too easily, too fast, like they’d been dancing on his tongue for a long time before he finally said them. You wished it were just as easy not to react to them.

"It’s late," you stood up carefully, wincing as a tingling sensation rushed through your legs. They felt shaky and numb, but you had to force them to move. You had to get out of here. "I’m going to bed—you know where everything is."

You both said goodnight. You both lay down in separate rooms. But neither of you managed to fall asleep—not when you were both too aware of the other’s presence. Not after nearly ruining everything.

That night, you found yourself remembering your conversation with Chaeyoung and Sooah again—wondering, just for a moment, if you could really let him go after tonight.

Masterlist.

[ronearoundblindly]

Hii! Idk if requests are open and it's okay if there not 🥰

but when I read this: "Also, Ari strikes me as a man who would enjoy road head or pull over to go down on you if he's horny or bored or just because. I don't have a reason for that, but it's true. The end."

It's making me feel like we need a full smutty fic of them going on vacation somewhere snowing and this happens because he's bored + horny 👀✋🏼

*ngl, I like the gif. idgaf. Warnings for smut (oral, m & f receiving), obviously. Based on this Who Would. WC 1280

You both absolutely suck at planning trips or time to yourselves--other than spending the night in after work--so, of course, you two over extend before your first legitimate weekend getaway.

Nobody packed!

It took until the wee hours to gather the things you'd need and prepare the home to be left unattended. There was no time for fooling around.

Ari passed out on the couch because clothes were all over the bed for you to visualize 'outfits,' and so he may not strictly be sleepy, just tired and antsy. His free foot won't stop bouncing on the cushioned floor mat.

He isn't subtle in his thoughts.

"How big of a bed did we get?" "Do you think the walls are thick or...?" "How busy is it this time of year? Could we have the hot tub to ourselves?" "Exactly how many layers will you need outside? Is that a lengthy process to take off?"

The traffic thins as you leave the city, but then an accident brings everyone to a dead stop. Even the sky is blocked by the towering trucks on all sides which...can't possibly be why Ari is so irate.

"Come on," he gripes, smacking the butt of his hand on the steering wheel. "Let's just get there."

You have to laugh at such a tiny tantrum from a very big man. It'll be at least an hour and a half (at speed).

"I swear, honey, I thought we'd be..." he mumbles something, scraping through his beard before holding your hand "...by now."

"What was that?" Though you know where this is going, it's worth it to make Ari say it. "What were we supposed to be doing?"

You rub your thumb along his knuckles pointedly.

"Well," he starts, voice low and rich, "I would definitely be buried inside you the very second we were behind closed doors, that's for sure." He adjusts himself in the seat, pawing at his jeans where they grow uncomfortably snug. "If you could only fit in my lap..."

He trails off again, sighing at the mere idea.

click THUD.

You drop his hand to open and shut your side of the cab, a wicked smile curling on your lips.

"One mississippi."

He doesn't take your meaning right away.

"These qualify as 'closed doors' and we are behind them," you simmer. "I can think of at least one way to be buried inside me right here if you're...interested."

Ari freely stares at you and rakes his eyes up and down your body, squinting like the specifics of the offer elude him, but he is all over it anyway.

"Fuck, yes," he growls. "Please." His head swivels around to check all the mirrors before quickly unzipping his pants and pulling his semi-hard cock out.

You tap the gearshift to remind him of his lead foot. Ari gets twitchy when this horny, and there was that one incident.

He throws that sucker into park so fast the metal and plastic actually whine.

Tucking your legs under you, you shimmy to a good angle before replacing his hand with yours, leaning towards his lips only to drop when he moves in, licking the length of him several times, lubing him up to take in your mouth.

Ari's head drops, satisfied though you've barely begun. He's wound tight from all the rushed preparations and can't help but melt into your ministrations. He tugs at his jeans to give you more and more access. The man does appreciate thorough attention.

If there's one thing you can count on, it's that he'll be putty in your hands the sloppier you are, so slowly building up that slick saliva until it drips beneath your fingers at his base blows his mind, every time, without fail.

"Holy shit," he moans, letting one hand rest on the back of your head and the other spread out over your clothed ass. Oh so gently, both knead without pattern or control while his eyes stay slits to watch the road.

They don't really see the road, and he glances down to ration his fill of the naughty scene.

Ari, again, is not subtle in his thoughts.

"You're so hot. Gorgeous. So fucking sexy--right there--uhhnn yeah, sounds like you're enjoying this as much as I am. You wet?" He shoves his hand into your pants to check. "Oh fuck, you are. Careful. You keep doing that--" he doesn't need a lot of fanfare, just focus on the cockhead and coax him with steady strokes "--and I'm gonna blow, sweetheart."

His voice grows hoarse in all his panting.

"Holy shit, are you--so, so close--you swallowing? You're perfect. You're so fucking hot."

Ari's careful not to grip at your head when he comes, leaky and thick, with a roar of relief, but that doesn't stop his finger inside you from plunging deeper and holding you there.

You know exactly the combination to this lock; he knows the combination to your body as well.

He teases you while he comes down, too, absently spreading your arousal back and forth from your clit to your crack. Then Ari chuckles, giddy, a bit light headed, letting his thighs stop their shaking before releasing you.

"Okay...so...are we there yet?"

Only one of the surrounding trucks has begun to roll forward a few car lengths.

Ari hurries to right his jeans and shift into drive, turn signal ticking as soon as possible.

Though it takes a slow and sexually excruciating mile to find a turn off for a 'scenic outlook,' he keeps you on the edge with dirty promises. The parking lot--if one can call a single row of spots barely separated from the highway by a grassy strip a 'lot'--is empty because it's chilly with dense fog, and Ari backs into the very farthest place, ordering you to climb into the truck bed.

It's polite with an edge of desperation, but the phrase "your juicy ass" is used.

Heedless of the cold, he rips his jacket off toned, flexed arms, laying it down for you so that you're not naked against freezing metal. You'd be self-conscious if the entire area weren't obscured by weather and the general incline of the hilly road.

Ari's words have devolved into a series of grunts, groans and moans as he manhandles you into a good position. The way he wraps his arms around your spread legs keeps away almost all of the chill, thankfully, but the fervor with which he dives into your heat is really where the warmth comes from. His tongue and breath are pleasant before escalating to pleasurable. HIs beard roughs up your tender skin in all the right places before the sting is eased by his plush lips.

In no uncertain terms, he absolutely sucks the life out of you, kneading your leg slung over his shoulder and curling his touch into the right spot when you finally chase climax and hump his face. Ari loves Needy-you, Controlling-you, Happy-you, and there's no better way for him to see it than down the length of your body, staring with bright, sparkling, hungry eyes.

He keeps you warm beneath him until you're fit to move, helping to yank your pants back up inch by inch.

Jumping out to offer you a hand down, Ari gets the giggles again, pressing a kiss to your smiling lips. He lingers long enough that you have to slap at his chest.

"We'll never get there if you don't stop," you laugh.

"New rule," he huffs, shrugging his coat back on and running his fingers through his tangled hair, "no roadtrips anywhere over an hour away."

[Main Masterlist; Ari Levinson Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[meazalykov]

new family

barcelona femení x kika nazareth x reader

summary: if your family cannot accept you for who you are, your new family will.

warnings: homophobia mentions, coming out, angst, comfort, very long fic

your new home.

the first time you step foot in barcelona, it feels like an entirely new world. at just nineteen, you've been given a rare opportunity to live across the atlantic ocean, far from home, far from the familiar comforts of family and friends to play for the best club in women’s football as a defender. 

it's thrilling, this chance to explore yourself and form your own ideas without the weight of your past or family pulling you back. but it’s also terrifying, since you have to build your social life from the ground up.

the team welcomes you warmly, and before long, you feel like you’re a part of something special– a new family. 

you bond quickly with your teammates, and learn your new rhythm of life in spain. 

but to you there's one person who stands out more than the others—kika, the newest player at barcelona. she's full of life, happy, with a laugh that makes your heart race and a smile that lights up even the darkest days.

at first, you don't understand why you're drawn to her the way you are. 

you’ve had crushes before, but this feels different, for many reasons.

your last crushes were on men, many years ago during your middle school days. 

the feelings you have for kika are more intense, more real. 

you find yourself watching her during training, lingering in her presence, and feeling a flutter in your chest whenever she talks to you. she asks you to be her partner during drills, and you always accept. 

the whole thing is confusing, overwhelming, and a little scary, but also something you can’t ignore.

as the days turn into weeks and the weeks into months, your feelings for kika grow stronger. it hits you one evening when you’re both sitting on the blue barcelona benches after a late training session, the sky painted with the soft hues of an orange spanish sunset. 

kika is talking about her family back home in portugal, her eyes sparkling with fondness, and you realize that you don’t just like kika—you’re Infatuated with her. in that moment, everything clicks into place.

you’re a lesbian.

it’s a realization that shakes you to your core, but also feels like a puzzle piece finally falling into place. 

for the first time, you truly understand who you are, and it’s liberating. 

you begin to accept it, slowly, carefully, letting the idea settle in your mind. it’s a part of you, a part that you hadn’t fully understood until now.

kika, oblivious to the storm of emotions inside you, continues to talk, and you smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. you don’t know when it happens exactly, but one day, she looks at you in a way that’s different from before—softer, more intimate—and you realize she feels the same. 

it’s subtle at first, a brush of hands, a shared look that lingers a little too long, until one night after el clasico when you invite her over to your apartment, she kisses you.

it’s everything you’ve imagined and more—soft, sweet, and filled with love. 

you pull back, breathless, staring into her eyes with a mix of disbelief and joy. 

“is this okay?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, and you nod, too overwhelmed to speak.

“yeah, it’s more than okay,” you finally manage, and she smiles, pulling you into another kiss, this one deeper, more assured. it’s the beginning of something beautiful, something that feels right.

it’s a crisp evening in january in munich, the air buzzing with the electric energy that only a champions league match can bring. 

the stands are packed, fans draped in blaugrana, but with german red as well. 

their cheers and chants echoing through the stadium. you’re on the pitch, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you face off against bayern munich, the intensity of the match pushing you to your limits.

the game has been tight, both teams fighting fiercely for dominance on the field. 

you’ve been giving it your all, weaving through defenders, pressing high, stopping german forwards, creating chances, but the breakthrough hasn’t come yet. 

the score is still 0-0, and you know that one goal for barcelona could change everything in the group stage match.

then, it happens.

a perfectly timed pass from alexia sends the ball back to your foot, just outside the box and after the halfway line. 

as a defender, you notice gaps. bayern had a huge gap where you could launch the ball towards the goal– the only risk being their goalkeeper blocking it. 

you take a quick touch, setting yourself up, and without hesitation, you strike. the ball sails through the air, spinning towards the top corner, and for a split second, time seems to slow down. 

the breath in your lungs were held, watching as the bayern goalkeeper dives, her fingertips brushing the ball—but it’s not enough.

the ball hits the back of the net.

for a moment, there’s silence, as if the entire stadium is holding its breath. 

then the roar of the away crowd erupts around you, deafening and exhilarating, and you feel a rush of pure, unfiltered joy. 

you did it. you scored in the champions league.

as a centre back, this hasn’t happened with you much.

your teammates rush towards you after you put your hands up in joy, their faces alight with excitement and pride. 

you’re grinning so wide it hurts, your heart pounding in your chest as they surround you, offering high-fives, smacks on the back, and hugs. 

but it’s kika who reaches you last, on purpose– her eyes shining with a mix of awe and love.

before you can say anything, she’s wrapping her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. 

you can feel her heart beating just as fast as yours, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “you were amazing, y/n.”

and then, without a second thought, she presses a soft kiss to your cheek. it’s a sweet, tender gesture, full of affection and pride, and it sends a warm flush spreading through your entire body. the kiss lingers, her lips soft against your skin, and you can’t help the way your heart skips a beat at the contact.

her words stick to you. she didn’t mention the goal, she said that you were good.

you pull back slightly, just enough to see the wide smile on her face, and you’re sure you’re blushing, but you don’t care. 

“thank you,” you murmur, your voice soft, almost shy.

the moment doesn’t go unnoticed. your teammates who got back in their positions start to giggle and cheer, their voices playful as they take in the scene. 

“look at that!” ewa teases, a wide grin on her face. “our goal scorer’s getting some extra love.”

ona, who’s always quick with a quip, sidles up beside you, her eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“y/n, you’re so in love it’s written all over your cute face.”

you glance at kika, who watched you with that same soft smile before setting herself up for the game, and you know you can’t deny it. 

not when you feel like this—so happy, so content, so in love. you shrug, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you meet ona’s gaze. “i can’t help it,” you say, your voice full of warmth. “she’s kind of hard to resist.”

the match continues, but that moment stays with you—etched into your memory as one of the sweetest, most genuine moments of your life. and as the whistle blows on the field again, you can’t help but feeling like you’ve won twice in one evening.

being with your girlfriend is like a dream. she’s everything you could have hoped for in a partner—kind, understanding, and so full of love that it makes your heart swell just thinking about her. 

your teammates notice the change in you, the way you light up whenever kika is around, and they’re happy for you. 

alexia, your captain and neighbor, is especially supportive, always there with a knowing smile or a gentle word of encouragement.

living next door to alexia and her girlfriend, olga, has its perks. 

the two of them have taken you under their wing from the moment you arrived, treating you like a little sister. alexia is the kind of leader who leads by example, and she’s always there to guide you, both on and off the pitch. her and olga’s relationship is something you look up to.

you spend countless nights at their apartment, talking about life advice, football, and everything in between. 

alexia is your rock, she is the goat to everyone but to you she is another sister. someone you can lean on when things get tough, and olga is like another mother figure, always ready with a joke to lighten the mood, help you with dinner, or a hug when you need it most.

it’s during one of these late-night conversations that you find the courage to tell alexia about your true feelings for kika. 

she listens intently, her eyes full of understanding, and when you’re done, she smiles softly. 

“i’m proud of you, y/n,” she says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “i am happy that you’re being true to yourself– i had to go through the same thing. you and kika compliment each other very well.”

her words give you the strength you need to take the next step—to come out to your family. 

it’s something you’ve been dreading, but you know it’s something you have to do. so, one evening, you call them, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for someone to pick up.

your mother answers first, her voice warm and familiar, and for a moment, you almost back out. 

but then you remember kika, the way she makes you feel, and you know you can’t keep this part of yourself hidden any longer. you wanted to show the world that you loved kika, and taking that step to tell your family first was important.

“mom, there’s something i need to tell you,” you begin, your voice trembling. 

you can hear the concern in her voice as she asks what’s wrong, and you take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you force the words out. 

“i’m… i’m dating someone–”

“oh my goodness, finally,” your mother cheers. 

“i didn’t realize that you’d have suitors in spain– what's the fellows name!?” she continued. 

your heart broke a tiny bit, knowing that it's not a man you’ll be telling her about. 

“you’ve been watching my games, right?” you ask. 

you couldn’t see your mom, but you could tell her eyebrows were raised. 

“yes?”

“number 18 on my team, kika– she is the person i am dating..” you swallow.

there’s a long silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment, you look at your phone thinking that the call has dropped. but then your mother speaks, her voice cold and distant in a way that makes your heart drop. 

“are you serious, y/n? is this some kind of phase?”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. 

“no, mom, it’s not a phase. i’m a lesbian. i’ve always been, i just… didn’t tell you until now.”

“y/n, this isn’t… this isn’t what our parents raised us to be,” your younger brother’s voice cuts in, harsh and unforgiving. 

“you can’t be serious about this. this has to be a joke. you’re throwing your life away for something that isn’t even right or makes sense.”

your heart breaks.

“it makes sense to me,” you whisper, but they’re not listening. 

they continue to talk, their voices overlapping in a barrage of judgment and disappointment, and you feel your heart tearing apart with every word.

“please, just… try to understand,” you plead, but it’s no use. they’ve made up their minds, and there’s nothing you can say to change it.

“y/n, you need to think about what you’re doing or if you’re being manipulated,” your mother says, her tone final. 

“we can’t support this or you. this is all wrong.”

the words echo in your mind, cutting deeper than anything you’ve ever felt before. 

they don’t accept you, they don’t understand, and it feels like your world is crumbling around you. 

“i… i can’t do this– goodbye.” you manage to choke out before ending the call, you quickly block your families numbers from your phones before the sobs hit your body– forcing you to collapse onto your bed.

you don’t know how long you stay there, crying into your pillow. the sun sets and now your room is dark, since you don’t bother getting up to turn on your ambient lamps.

eventually, you force yourself to get up when you notice the polaroid picture of you and kika sitting on your bedside table. 

your legs are shaky, your heart feels like it’s been smashed into a million pieces, but you know you can’t stay here. you need to be somewhere safe, somewhere where you’re loved.

the family you grew up with will not be your family anymore. you refuse to associate with individuals that cannot accept you for who you are. Luckily you’re in another country so it won’t be as hard.

without thinking, you grab your keys and head to alexia’s apartment across the hall. 

your hands tremble as you knock on the door, and when it opens, you’re shocked to see not just alexia and olga, but also ingrid, mapi, frido, caroline, and marta. 

they’re all there, gathered around the living room, and as soon as they see your tear-streaked face, they jump up from the sectional couch and rush to your side.

“y/n,¿qué pasó?” alexia asks, her voice full of concern as she pulls you into a tight hug.

you try to speak, but the words won’t come out, so you just shake your head, burying your face in her shoulder as the tears start again.

“it’s okay, you’re safe now,” she whispers, rubbing your back as the others gather around, offering their own words of comfort.

“they… they don’t accept me,” you finally manage to get out, your voice breaking. 

“they don’t understand, and they never will.”

there’s confusion from your teammates. everyone looks around to see anger and sadness in mapi’s eyes. she might not relate to it, but she knows exactly what you might’ve gone through. 

“y/n, i’m so sorry,” mapi says, her voice thick with emotion as she reaches out to squeeze your hand.

“you don’t need them,” mapi continues firmly, her hand resting on your shoulder. 

“what happened?” ingrid whispers in mapi’s ear. 

“my family doesn’t want me to be with her, they don’t accept me ingrid.” you say, rubbing your eyes as you put your head up from alexia’s shoulders. 

all of the adults in the room frowned.

“i am so sorry nina.” olga hugs you.

“we love you, y/n. everyone here, and everyone on the team, accepts you.” caroline rubs your shoulder as olga pulls away from your body.

“we’re your family now, y/n. we love you for who you are, no matter what.”

“and we always will,” frido adds, her voice soft but strong. 

“you’re not alone in this,” olga says.

“not at all.” alexia finishes.

the words are like a balm to your broken heart, and you feel a warmth spreading through you as you look around at the faces of your teammates—your friends, your family. 

they’re here for you, they love you, and they’re not going anywhere.

“thank you,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you look at each of them. 

“i don’t know what i’d do without you all.”

“you’ll never have to find out niña,” alexia says, pulling you into another hug. 

“we’re here for you, always.”

as the night goes on, you start to feel a little better, surrounded by the love and support of your teammates. 

it doesn’t erase the pain of your family’s rejection, but it helps to know that you’re not alone.

kika comes over to alexia’s apartment when mapi contacts her, not giving much detail but saying that you needed her support. 

when you tell kika everything– her eyes are wide, filled with a mixture of shock, worry, and something deeper—something that makes your heart ache all over again. 

she steps closer, her hand trembling slightly as she reaches out to touch your cheek, wiping away a stray tear with her thumb.

“y/n…” she whispers, her voice breaking with emotion. 

“i’m so sorry. i… i can’t believe they’d say that to you. you don’t deserve that. not at all.”

her words hit you hard, and you can see the pain etched on her face, pain that mirrors your own. 

it’s clear that she’s hurting for you, that your heartbreak is tearing her apart just as much as it’s tearing you apart. 

she pulls you into a hug, holding you so tight that you can feel her heart beating against yours, strong and steady, grounding you in a way that nothing else can.

“estou aqui, ok?” she murmurs, her breath warm against your ear as she strokes your hair. 

“i’m here, and i’m not going anywhere. we’ll get through this together, i promise.”

you clutch her tighter, feeling a fresh wave of tears coming on, but this time they’re different—not just tears of sadness, but also of gratitude. 

you don’t know what you did to deserve someone like kika in your life, someone who loves you so deeply and so fiercely, but in this moment, you’re thankful for every bit of it.

kika pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, her hands cupping your face with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. 

“they don’t get to decide who you are or who you love,” she says, her voice firm, full of conviction. 

“you’re perfect just the way you are, y/n. and i love you, so much. don’t ever forget that.”

her words are saving, pulling you out of the darkness that’s been threatening to swallow you whole. 

you nod, unable to find the right words to respond, but the look in her eyes tells you that she understands.

“we’re your family now,” kika continues, her voice softening as she presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. she smile, not knowing that alexia said the same thing a few moments ago. 

“me, alexia, mapi, everyone here. we’re your family, and we’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

the others nod in agreement, their expressions full of love and support, and you feel a warmth spreading through your chest, chasing away the coldness that’s been lingering since that painful phone call. 

you’re surrounded by people who love you for who you are, people who will stand by you through anything, and that’s more than you could have ever hoped for.

“i love you too, so much kika” you finally manage to say, your voice shaking with emotion as you look into kika’s eyes. 

“all of you. thank you… for being here, for loving me.” you say looking at your present teammates.

kika smiles, a soft, bittersweet smile that tells you she understands the depth of what you’re feeling. 

she leans in, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that’s full of love, reassurance, and a promise of better days to come. 

it’s a kiss that reminds you that you’re not alone, that you have a family here in barcelona—a family that will love and support you no matter what.

when you finally pull away, you find yourself wrapped in the warmth of your teammates, their arms around you in a group hug that feels like a cocoon of safety and love. 

your new home.

if you're struggling with similar feelings, just know that you're loved always. it might not feel like it, but we love you and support you for who you are!

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

[moonyeyedstar]

Invisible-James Potter x f!reader (smut)

*18+*

“Thank you, James, this was so lovely,” you smiled at your boyfriend before looking around as he cleaned up your Valentine’s Day picnic.  James always planned special dates for the two of you, this time he made a picnic by the lake.

“Of course,” he beamed before pulling out a box of chocolate-covered strawberries.  “Would you like some?”

“After, I need a break,” you chuckled feeling stuffed from everything else.  James smiled and set them back in the basket, feeling quite full himself.  The two of you found yourselves rather lucky with the weather, the chill was subtle and the sun was beaming.  James cleared up space on the blanket.  He packed up and moved the basket to the side before laying you down on the blanket.  Your cheeks flushed, embarrassed from not knowing who could see the two of you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” James smiled cheekily after climbing on top of you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!"  You couldn’t help but laugh. He was so cute and charming. He wore a golden aura, and he wore it proudly. No one could reach James Potter, no matter how hard they tried.  

“Hey, don’t laugh at me,” his smile took up his face and he began tickling you.

“No, stop,” you laughed as you squirmed under him.  James eased quickly and brushed his hand through his hair as he admired you.  You playfully hit his chest.  “Get off of me.  What if someone sees us,” you caressed his face quickly before looking around as best as you could.

“Oh, well, that is quite the silly concern isn’t it, my darling.” James smiled and grabbed the cloak before pulling it over the two of you.  You both instantly disappeared under the fabric and were not even there as far as others were concerned.

“You brought the cloak,” you blushed.

“Of course I did,” he smiled proudly.

“How naughty of you for assuming you’d be taking me here by the lake,” you tsked jokingly.

“Sorry,” he began to flush deeply.

“Oh Jamesie,” you grasped his face lovingly before pulling him into a deep kiss which he eagerly returned.  James wasted no time.  His hands roamed your body needily, grazing over every inch of your skin.

“So pretty,” James spoke into the kiss before trailing his lips down your jaw and leaving his hot sloppy needy kisses all over your neck and collarbones.

“Oh, James,” you moaned softly as your hips rocked forward.

“Yes, princess?”  James pulled back and looked at you with a teasing grin.

“Do you think we could?”  Your cheeks flushed to an impossibly deep shade of crimson.

“Oh, most definitely,” James beamed, his confidence was always unbearably high but his kindness always made up for it.  James was already aching in his trousers, his hands quickly went to fumble with the button.  You watched him as best as you could, he always seemed to get a bit nervous despite being together for years.  James was overly confident in almost everything he’s ever done but something about you made him nervous.

“It’s just me,” you caressed his chest under his jumper as he freed himself from the restraint of his jeans.

“I know,” he blushed before moving to pull your panties off and pressing his tip to your slick entrance.  “So wet for me already,” he teased.

“Hey, watch it, Potter,” your heart was racing—the anticipation of being caught building in your chest.

“Sorry,” he was so flustered, “Sirius said girls like it when you say things like that.”

“Just kiss me you idiot,” you tangled your hands in his hair and pulled him into another passionate kiss.  James’s tip grazed up and down your slit, brushing across your clit sending sparks through your stomach.  James’s hands slipped under you and grasped your bum before pulling you onto him, burying his cock deep inside your cunt.

“Oh fuck.”  Both you and James found yourselves moaning in sync.  James was careful with his movements to stop the cloak from slipping away.  He fucked you slowly but with a bit of force, making sure to fill you completely each time.

“Feels so good,” you moaned out, bucking your hips to meet his every time.

“You are so tight, you fit me so well,” James moaned out with a shaking breath.

“F-Faster,” you moaned out as you propped yourself up on your elbows and began to kiss under his jaw.  James’s cock twitched inside your walls and his hips spasmed, earning you the reaction you sought out for.  James was always weak when you kissed him under his jaw.  James pushed himself to pick up the pace, the cloak shaking with his movement but still keeping you both entirely covered.

“Merlin,” James moaned under his breath, his orgasm nearing already, the bitemarks you began to leave on his neck and under his jaw only bringing him closer to his edge.

“I love when you moan,” you smirked against his skin before sucking another bright purple hickey onto his soft skin.

“Oh, fuck,” James’s hips stuttered as he spilled himself into you.

“Oh, James,” you moaned, feeling his release coat your walls and fill you sent your hips writhing against his.  James collapsed on top of you panting, the cloak keeping you hidden in plain sight.

“I think I could go for those strawberries right about now,” James panted sheepishly.

“Me too.”

a/n a short one today, the req was from wattpad, I hope you enjoyed it!

[lucy90712]

Hey Lucy 🌷

I was wondering if you were open to do some boyfriend/ dating headcanons for the boys you want to write it for?

A/n: This is a headcannon all of the random ideas I came up with over the course of a few days there is no structure too it but I hope you enjoy it anyway

Gavi 

- He is as passionate off the pitch as he is on it he always gives his all in everything in life and your relationship is no exception once he's in he's all in and that's what makes him a great boyfriend. 

- Anyone that knows Pablo knows he's not much of a talker he's always been quite shy and for a while he was the same around you until he felt completely comfortable around you and he was able to open up. Once he opens up you almost don't recognise him as he will sometimes spend hours just talking at you without any breaks. You love it though as it means he feels comfortable enough around you to break down all the walls he's put up. 

- Pablo is incredibly physically affectionate. That is how he shows his love as he often doesn't know how to find the words to express his love for you so he shows it in his own way. This way involves having his arms around you as much as he can and constantly giving you kisses. He probably gives you over 100 kisses each day and he won't settle for any less he makes sure he gives you kisses from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. Any free time he has is spent with his arms around your waist as there is nowhere he'd rather be than enjoying your company. 

- Jealousy is just something that comes with dating Pablo. He's very possessive he doesn't like any other guys flirting with you or even looking at you the wrong way. No matter how subtle these guys try to be he can always tell when they are trying to flirt with you and he will always give them a death stare until they back off. Sometimes he goes too far and tries to stop you talking to other guys but once his jealousy calms down he realises he can't control you and he has to just trust that you'll always come home with him.

- He is obsessed with seeing you wear his Barça or Spain shirts part of it probably comes from his possessiveness and liking you to wear his name on your back. He is always bringing you new shirts any time they are released so half your wardrobe is made up of football shirts. The shirts can't just be any shirts though they are always ones he's worn in matches as then they are special and sometimes he'll even write on the shirts if they are from a special match so that when you wear it you are reminded of that day. 

- Pablo has quite a short fuse it doesn't take much to annoy him most of the time but he never gets mad around you. You can tease him like his teammates do but he won't get mad he'll just distract you by kissing you or he gets all shy until you stop. No one understands why he doesn't get annoyed at you but he just doesn't he can't bring himself to shout at you or playfully hit your arm to get you to stop. Something about the mischievous look on your face when you tease him stop any anger from building up in him he just can't bring himself to be mad when you look so cute. 

- Pablo doesn't seem like the type of person to think too much about the future but he loves to think about his future with you. His injury reminded him that everything in life isn't a given so it made him appreciate everything he had including you a hell of a lot more. He really started to think about how he wanted to marry you and have kids with you he wants his whole future to be with you. At one point he seriously considered proposing but someone manage to talk sense into him and told him to wait a couple more years until he was back playing and you had finished your degree but it's still something he thinks about a lot. 

Pedri 

- For a while Pedri wasn't sure he was ready to settle down but as soon as he met you that changed. Suddenly all he wanted was you to be in his life and he knew you wouldn't accept a quick fling but he didn't want that either he wanted you and no one else. Once you two had started dating he couldn't be happier and he wondered why he was so hesitant to live his life that way beforehand but that doesn't really matter now he has you.  

- Pedri's family is everything to him so it was important to him that they liked you but there was nothing for either of you to worry about as they all loved you. From the moment you met them his parents loved you like their own child so you became part of the family straight away. Over time you have become so integrated into the family that it's pretty much expected that you'll attend any family event with or without Pedri as the whole family sees you as one of them. 

- There is nothing Pedri enjoys more than a quiet night in with you. He's not one for going out and drinking he much prefers to spend the evening on the sofa cuddling with you while watching a movie. Half the time he doesn't even watch the movie he just watched you as you are leaned against his chest while he plays with your hair. After a long day getting to unwind on the sofa with you is all he wants. 

- Before meeting you Pedri didn't have the best style but once you got your hands on his wardrobe it improves. He liked seeing you wear his clothes so you had to tell him he needed to get better clothes if he wanted you to wear them and he takes that seriously. He happily lets you go shopping with him to find some new clothes that aren't the hideous skinny jeans he had before which he wasn't sure about but when he sees how much you love his new style he begins to like it more too. 

- You were a football and barca fan long before you met Pedri so of course you are a fan of some of the older players. Being the great boyfriend that he is Pedri will get you signed shirts from some of your favourites because he remembers what it's like to be a fan of all these players and now he has the luxury of playing with or against them he likes to take advantage of it. He has managed to get you shirts signed by Busquets, Messi, Neymar and a few others which are proudly in your collection.

- Pedri sometimes gets jealous of you and Nilo, he knew you'd love the dog as you'd been talking about getting a dog for months but he didn't expect to lose his place in bed every night. When he comes home you are always cuddling with Nilo and when he tries to take the dogs place he usually gets growled at or pushed to the side. You do try to teach Nilo not to do that but he doesn't seem to grasp that Pedri was here before he was. Pedri does love to see how much Nilo loves you even though he brought him home and now he's been long forgotten your love for the puppy does make him smile. 

- When you move into Pedri's place you can tell that he's the only one who lives there the place is completely devoid of character only what is necessary is there. You completely change that you bring lots of little decorations to have round the place so it feels more homely. To start with he hated it he thought the place looked cluttered but he soon got used to it and started to love seeing all your little touches around the home including your million hair ties and lip balms that you leave everywhere. 

Jude 

- Jude is very proud of your relationship he truly loves you and he wants to show you off if he can sneak pictures of you onto his Instagram either on his story or his photo dumps he will. Your relationship is private but it's not at all secret if you want to post together you will and if you want to go somewhere together even if you'll be seen you do. You are always at Jude's games wearing his shirt to support him because you supporting him means more than hiding everything from the media and fans. 

- He is and always will be your passenger princess even if he learns to drive or you teach him he will still want you to drive everywhere. He just loves to sit in the passenger seat and watch you drive he has a whole album on his phone filled with pictures of you driving. You just have the cutest concentration face that he can't help but stare at as you drive. 

- Jude loves to buy you gifts. He's alway coming home with things for you they aren't always big things more often than not it's simple things like flowers or your favourite chocolates but on occasion he will bring home jewellery or other things that he sees that he thinks you'll like. Anything that reminds him of you he will get for you as he loves seeing the smile on your face. Every time you tell him off for spending his money on things for you when you already have enough but he doesn't listen in fact he enjoys watching you try to be mad at him when you actually aren't. 

- Since Jude went to Dortmund you made a lot of sacrifices for your relationship and Jude doesn't just sweep that under the rug he really appreciates everything you have done for him and to keep your relationship alive. For him to have his dream you've had to put yours aside but once you move to Madrid he really wants to let you have a go at yours dreams too. He makes sure to support you and help you as you are finally able to finish your education and work towards the career you want so you two can be a proper power couple. 

- His family are all really close despite not living all in the same country which is something you really admire. They are all so kind and are willing to help whenever you need them they are truly like a second family to you. Even if Jude's not around they will treat you like part of the family in fact when you go home even if it's just for a day or two they always offer their spare room to you or invite you over for dinner. You always appreciate how they always treat you the same whether Jude is there or not as to you that shows that they really like you.

- Jude is always just the sweetest boyfriend ever. You can never feel insecure when Jude is around as he's always complimenting everything about you until you are a complete blushing mess. He always seems to know when you aren't feeling confident and he'll go to extra effort to make sure you know that you are perfect to him which usually makes you feel better. After realising that what other people say really seems to affect you Jude makes sure that he blocks any accounts that say bad things about you and filters comments on yours and his posts so you aren't as exposed to all the negativity and can be the happy confident person he loves so much. 

- You and Jude really grew up together you were so young when you started dating that you really learned who you were and matured together. Jude really helped you come out of your shell as you got older you were always quite shy and would rather let other people do the talking but he encouraged you and helped you become more confident in yourself. It's thanks to him that you are able to talk to people at parties and events that you go to with him and you can stand up for yourself because his confidence rubbed off on you. 

Joao 

- Joao will be forever grateful that he found you you've been a constant in his life when everything else was changing. He finds comfort in your presence you are the one person he knows he can go to about anything as you always know what to say and how to make him feel better. 

- After a few instances of losing you in a crowd he refuses to go anywhere with you without touching you in some way to make sure you are safe. In big crowds he will always have hold of your hand and stand in front of you to lead you through to wherever you are going. Other times he will just have a hand on your waist or your back to keep you close. 

- One of the first things that told Joao you were the one was when you met Floki for the first time. Floki can be funny around new people he doesn't always like them and he seems to always be a good judge of character but the second you walked into Joao's place for the first time Floki was running up to you licking all over your face. That dog loved you probably more than him which told him all he needed to know about you as a person and how you would be the one for him if he could just keep you around which he managed to do. 

- Joao bought both of you necklaces with your respective initials as sort of a joke gift one Christmas but now he doesn't take his off. Unless he's playing he always wears his necklace with your initial on it even though it's only a cheap necklace he bought as a joke he love always having a piece of you with him. While he's playing and can't wear his necklace you always wear yours as he thinks it brings him good luck and because you like to support him in your own way. 

- If there's one thing Joao loves it's a trip somewhere warm when he has any time off and of course you have to come with him or the trip would be no fun. It doesn't matter where you go as long as there's a beach and you bring plenty of pretty sun dressed and bikinis as Joao loves to admire you when you have that sun kissed glow. Holidays with Joao are always great as they are the perfect mix of relaxation and getting to explore wherever you go and he always treats you like a princess the entire time. 

- Any big life decisions that Joao has to make he will always tell you about before anyone else. Whenever his agent receives offers from another club or his contract was up for renewal he always discusses it with you as it impacts your life just as much as his. If you even so much as hunt that you aren't happy with him moving to a certain club or country he'll tell his agent to decline the offer because if you aren't happy then he knows he won't be happy. You two are a team and you always come as a pair no matter the situation as that's just how your relationship works. 

- Joao loves to learn things from you. You are always leaning something new even if it's just silly little fun facts and Joao loves to hear them. He's learnt so much from you which he's always sharing with other people but he has to make sure they know the facts came from you. He loves when you get obsessed with learning about a new topic and all you do is passionately tell him all about it while you both lay in bed. Sometimes you realise that you are talking a lot and try to stop but he doesn't let you he always asks more questions to get you back talking as he never wants you to feel insecure about one of his favourite quirks of yours. 

Ruben 

- Ruben is all about commitment, once he knows he has feelings for you he won't talk to any other girls even if you aren't exclusive yet because he knows he wants you and he doesn't see the point in talking to anyone that's not you. Once you are officially together he is well and truly committed you won’t find him texting other girls or commenting on posts that aren't yours because he doesn't want anything to be able to be taken out of context and upset you as he loves you. He's fiercely loyal and you love him for that as it makes you feel much more secure in your relationship. 

- He's all about keeping healthy and working out so when you actually agree to join him in the gym or for a run he loves it. On those days he usually gets less done as he's always watching you or spotting you as he teaches you new exercises to work different muscles. Working out is something he enjoys so he likes to do it with you as it's a part of his world he can actually share with you. 

- Usually Ruben hates to do nothing he doesn't like sitting still and relaxing but when he's with you he will do it all day. If you want to lay in bed all day and relax he will be right there with you watching silly rom com movies and cuddling you. When he's with you he doesn't find it so boring to do nothing as he enjoys the way you comment on how idiotic some of the characters are and he enjoys just watching your face as you finally get to relax after a long week. 

- Ruben will always at least attempt to try out any hobbies you pick up whether it's something simple like reading a book from a series your obsessed with or joining you at a painting class as you've decided you need to be more creative. He will try anything at least once because he likes to know what you do with your free time so when you talk about it he can understand a bit more. It's not often that he sticks with your hobbies as most of them aren't his thing but he also wants you to have things you can do without him he just likes to try them out as you do the same for him. 

- Pretty much as soon as you are serious in your relationship Ruben asks you to move in with him. You already spend so much time together and more often than not you sleep over at Ruben's so to him it's a no brainier and it makes your life so much easier. He's so ready for you to move in that by the time you've got boxes together he's already cleared room in his wardrobe and chest of draws for your stuff. He also sets up his spare room as an office for you with no questions asked all of a sudden it's not longer a spare room there's a desk and a computer as well a little decorations he knows you'll like. 

- Ruben is your biggest supporter because you are always his. Anything you do he will be right behind you cheering you on whether it's something small like finishing a big project at work or getting a promotion. He will always try to make time to come to your work events like the Christmas party as he knows these sort of events aren't your favourite things and he's more than happy to take over the conversation about how great you are. Of course he doesn't always have time but he will always support you the best he can as he wants you to feel like what you do is just as important as football. 

- Some of the best memories you two have together are from your days spend back in Ruben's hometown. Quite early on you got to know his friends and family so whenever you go out there you always have lots of fun. That's not the main reason you love it though it's the getting to spend quality time together without worrying about you having work the next day or Ruben having training. It's not often that you get to spend that much time with Ruben so you always enjoy every second with him and the people he loves the most. 

[woncheolisms]

kinktober 2023 -> day 21

window - suna rintarou x reader

word count: 1601

kinktober masterlist

warnings: usual smut warnings, dub-con (?), semi-public sex

“This is so nice, Rin!” You grinned in excitement, taking in the hotel room around you. The bed was king-sized, made neatly, lamps on either side tables illuminating the room. The lights in the ceiling were subtle too, giving the room an ambience you loved. Across from you were floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city, showing you exactly how high up you were. You whistled lowly when you walked up to them, looking down at the twinkling lights. When Hinata had excitedly told you about the hotel they were staying at, you thought he was lying when he said it was the tallest building in the city. But he wasn’t. You were miles above anyone else.

Behind you, Suna placed both your luggage beside the door with a soft thud, closing the door behind him and using the key card to lock it. He hummed in approval, sharp eyes looking around until they met you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I never knew being a pro-athlete for a National Team meant you would get so many perks. If I had, I would’ve started dating you a long time ago.” You teased, making him chuckle as he unzipped his team jacket and took it off, throwing it over a chair next to the wall. You watched him stretch, eyes drawn to the little patch of skin visible under the hem of his shirt. When he caught you looking, evident by the smirk on his face, you turned back to the window abruptly, cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

You and Suna had been friends since high school, when you had managed the volleyball club for three years. With his laid back personality and almost brooding vibe, it was hard to imagine how he was friends with you, always energetic, sometimes anxious and overthinking. You were worlds apart, yet you felt that Suna was just what you needed to hold you together. He filled up any gap in your personality. He made you care less about what others thought of you, just as you made him care more, which was what he needed.

You two were perfect for each other.

It was only a matter of time before you started seeing each other in a more romantic light. And now here you were, years after high school and almost seven months of dating later, you were accompanying Suna to one of his away games for the first time. Despite knowing him for so long and dating for over half a year, you still weren’t used to the intimacy. You loved it, of course, but given your anxious, self-doubting nature, you had yet to accept it wholeheartedly.

Unbeknownst to you, Suna was enamored by your hesitancy. A sick, twisted part of him loved to push you to your limits, knowing you would let him because you trusted him completely. It was like scratching an itch, the doubt in your eyes when he suggested something a little risky, and as he watched your back now, peering out of the open window at the brightly lit city night lights, a new idea formed in his head, and the itch came back.

You almost yelped, startled when you felt Suna at your back, hands finding your waist and chin leaning against your shoulder.

“Geez, Rin, you scared m-” You gasped when his teeth nipped at the skin of your neck, body stiffening and eyes widening at the feeling on your lower back, something hard digging into you. Oh.

You giggled a bit, letting out a breathy moan when Suna grinded his pelvis against you, making his…. problem… more known. His lips were mapping out the skin of your neck, nipping playfully every few seconds and drawing a sigh out of your slightly parted lips.

Your whole body stiffened when one of Suna’s hands traveled low, hiking up the hem of your dress until his fingers had reached your panties, hastily shoving his hand into them and cupping your bare sex. You gasped and jerked, trying to push his body back, but of course, he didn’t budge. You gripped his wrist tight as he started rubbing over your folds, your body jerking forward to try and unlatch him from your back.

“Rin!” You cried, eyes so wide they felt like they would pop out of your head. “What’re you-”

All you got back was a hum from your boyfriend, bordering on a moan as his fingertip dipped teasingly through your folds. You gasped, knees buckling slightly, Suna’s other arm coming up to wrap tightly around your waist. He dug his teeth into your neck more, and you could hear him inhale deeply.

“‘M horny, babe.” He drawled, voice a few octaves lower than usual. You felt yourself clench at the sound. “Be a good girl and take it.”

Oh. He knew exactly what he was doing. Calling you a good girl. And you were too weak when it came to him. You couldn’t resist the pulls and beckons of his body, pressed so solidly and deliciously into you from behind, until you could feel every shift of his muscles. But this time, as you looked down at the busy city below you, your fears were too great.

“H-here?” Your voice trembled, half from anxiety and half from the teasing brush of Suna’s fingers, still barely touching you but doing enough to rile you up. You weighed the options in your head like a pros and cons list, feeling a thrill go through you at the thought of just doing it right here. He hummed.

“Why not?” He answered your question with a question, an annoying habit of his, whilst pushing you to take a step forward until your body was pressed to the glass in front of you. The coldness of it ran like a shock through your body, instinctively moving back from it, which Suna took as you grinding back on him, making him groan into your shoulder. The hand inside your panties pushed down then, rolling the fabric down until it rested at the tops of your thighs. You felt him shuffling around behind you until you felt the press of his bare cock between your asscheeks, gasping when the tip rubbed through your slit.

“R-Rin…” Your voice was barely there, already losing your train of thought. Your mouth dropped when he penetrated you, no prep whatsoever, causing your core to burn as it stretched to accommodate his girth, just the way you liked. You heard his deep groan behind you, sounding so satisfied, as if he had been craving this for so long, and the thought drove a whine out of you, your cheek pressed to the cold glass as you were pushed forward because of Suna’s weight.

Then he started moving, slowly at first and then picking up speed, pulling back enough to push your dress up until it rested on your lower back, your ass on display. Suna bit his lip at the sight, gripping your hips tight and pulling them back, using one hand to push your back down until you were bent to his liking, before he started furiously and speedily pounding into you. You gasped at the change in pace, pressing your hands and forearms into the window for any form of support, eyes rolling shut at the feeling of Suna’s thick cock ramming into your tight, poorly prepped hole.

“Open your eyes, princess,” one of Suna’s hands wound into your hair, tugging your head up. “Look.”

And you did, tears rolling down your face when Suna hit your sweet spot, tip grazing it over and over with every thrust. Your core was tightening, walls already spasming around him, as you watched people move around below you, almost the size of insects, unaware of what was happening some storeys above them. You felt Suna lean forward until his torso was draped over your back, pace not faltering in the slightest but the angle shifting in a way that had you crying out in pleasure.

“Think they know what’s goin’ on?” He rumbled into your ear, referring to the people outside the window. “Think they know you’re getting your pretty little cunt abused by my fucking cock? Bent over and taking it like a good little whore. Fuck. The way you're clenching around me. Dirty girl. You love this, don’t you?”

“N-no.” You whined, your tone of voice contradicting your words.

Suna chucked, racking up the pace even more as if to prove a point.

“No? Don’t lie, princess. You wouldn’t be this wet if you didn’t like it. Makin’ a mess all over me.”

“Rin, I’m cumming.” You choked out suddenly, his words tipping you forward until you were teetering over the edge, clenching desperately around him as your legs shook, whining long and loud when your orgasm hit, core pulsing and sending shockwaves down your system. You gasped and cried through it, eyes nearly crossing at the euphoric feeling, not even registering when Suna finished as well, moaning into the back of your neck and filling you up with his hot cum.

You didn’t move, frozen in place as you panted and tried to stop your vision from swimming. You felt Suna gently pull out, shuffling around a bit before he guided you to straighten up slowly, picking you up and carrying you to the bed. You sighed as you sunk into the soft sheets, cold over your heated skin.

Suna watched as you knocked out almost instantly, smiling softly and pressing a light kiss over your hairline.

His itch had been scratched.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 1 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran n @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!