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draftbeerbibi · 21 hours ago

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FOR ME, IT WILL ALWAYS BE YOU - Sylus x Non MC! ( Part 6 )

Summery: you find yourself in lads universe after a particularly close interaction with truck kun. How does life go from here after arriving in the N109 zone leaders backyard when MC hasn’t arrived yet?

Disclaimer, Sylus might be OOC, since I'm not very good at writing so bear with me. This will be multiple parts!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Something gnawed at him.

A feeling of unease he wasn’t able to shake. It was very uncharacteristic of him and it made his mind wander even when walking next to MC. They still hadn’t made any progress even after weeks.

The love he once held for her had dulled to a soft murmur, only held alive by the curse her past self inflicted on him. This constant cycle of love, pain and death had long since become something he started dreading. He no longer had the energy to entertain this façade, so instead, he tried to get her to remember, so she could finally break this binding curse and set him free.

A notification from his phone made him snap out of his train of thought.

He would’ve been happy seeing you used his card, but he heard you leave, and he’s seen you deteriorate these past weeks. He knew he should’ve spoken up. Knew he was breaking something that had yet to start.

Yet he didn’t know how to explain. “Hey, this is my soulmate, and I'm literally, sharing half a soul so I cannot escape my fate with her!” And expect you to understand? No. He was going to fix this before things could get out of hand.

Or so he thought. He thought seeing where you were would put him at ease, but the notification only rooted the feeling of dread deeper, seeping into his very being.

Something was wrong, and he was going to figure out what it was. He excuses himself and left MC dumbfounded as he sent Mephisto flying to the bar and called Luke and Kieran instructing them to figure out your whereabouts.

He willed himself to calm down. Nothing was wrong, you just decided to get a drink. He didn’t even blame you, he was acting like a total dick and he knew it, but this was new to him too. He didn’t expect to fall for you, a mere mortal, so utterly and pathetically normal. Yet fall for you he did. You turned his life upside down in a way he hadn’t realised he craved. No longer bound by fate, revelling in the normalcy.

He should’ve known better. He had almost hoped MC wouldn’t show up, but to his utter dismay she did, and with her arrival, she threw everything upside down for the worse. His heart ached seeing you loose yourself more and more every single day, yet unable to explain himself, he spent more and more time with MC to try and get her to break the curse. But she wasn’t cooperating. Somehow, in this damned timeline, she had chosen another man, leaving him alone with this curse, destined to die by her hand yet again.

But he wouldn’t let that happen. Not again. So he worked harder, growing more impatient by the day. It had irked him, he was turning into someone he no longer recognised, or, to put it frankly, was scared to recognise. His fragile love story with MC started with the same damned feelings. But with you, he felt okay letting it happen. Being vulnerable was not something he excelled in, but he had learned with MC.

His phone lit up with a text.

Twins: we can’t find her. We’re pretty sure someone got her.

He felt his blood run cold. It was his fault after all. If he hadn’t run away and just told you straight up, you never would have gone there in the first place.

He orders the twins to find you. And even if it killed him, find you he would.

~~~

Everything hurt.

Your brain was pounding in your skull, a protest to the excessive drinking you had done last night. But it wasn’t just your head, no, every fiber of your being hurt.

Breathing laboured you try to move, but a sharp pang in your wrists made you stop in your tracks. Then you remember. The drinking, walking outside when suddenly your pulled into a car. The rest is a hazy blur and now you were here.

You try to open your eyes slowly. Your in a dark room, without windows, the only light coming from a singular lightbulb hanging from the ceiling that’s barely working. The room looks rundown, like a cement basement. It smells like dust and mold, and there are small puddles on the floor. The room is barren except for some racks with canned food. You guess it truly is a basement.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, blood rushing through your ears as you try to asses you situation. Your sat in a chair, with your wrists tied behind your back, making it borderline impossible to move. Why the hell did someone take you? Why would anyone even want you anyways? You don’t get long to think when you hear a door open and piercing light filters through. Before your eyes could adjust, the door is promptly closed again and an unfamiliar silhouette walks in your direction.

He's masked, so you can't make out his features, but even if he wasn't, your sure the pounding in your head would've made it impossible to see anyways.

He doesn't say anything, just assesses you like a product for sale. That makes your heart skip a beat. What if you are? You stare at him, questions clouding your mind, but fear grips at you so hard that you can't utter a single word, so all you manage to do is examine him as well.

He grabs a notepad and a pen off of a rack and writes some things down. You force yourself through gritted teeth to speak up. "Who are you, and why am i here?" He looks up at you, and despite the mask you could have sworn he was grinning but he doesn't respond, he just continues writing on the notepad.

And just like that, he leaves, isolating you with your thoughts. How long has it been? Where even are you? Did Sylus notice your absence? If he did, would he come? The air felt too thick, the humidity and mold mixing to make every breath taste like toxic waste.

You try to wiggle your arms, but the material around your wrist was tight, and when you wiggled too hard, it cut through skin. You hiss in pain, tears welling up in your waterline. You blink profusely as you try again, but to your dismay, the material doesn't budge but only cuts deeper. You wince as a tear rolls down your cheek.

You look around the room, searching for anything, but with no windows, and both your hands and feet bound, you had no way of escape. You were bound by the whims of fate, unsure if freedom was ever written in the stars for you.

~~~

He finally found a lead.

It had been hours since he last heard from you. Well, if a payment notification really counts as hearing from you. The twins were hunting down the streets for every lead they could find. At first he thought it was EVER, but to his surprise they had nothing to do with it, making it that much harder to track you down.

Checking the footage of Mephisto flying around Linkon, Sylus looked around the area of the bar. It had been cleaned meticulously, so they weren't amateurs, but then, something caught his eye.

Your bracelet.

Correction, the bracelet he had gifted to you for one of the auctions you had attended with him. It was concealed between some rocks and dirt, hidden from sight so that even he almost missed it. But thank the heavens he didn’t, because in between some of the beads of the bracelet some hairs were tucked. Possibly a sign of struggle. Immediately he called one of the twins over to have it checked.

He cursed himself for taking so long to find the bracelet. The next minutes felt like days, waiting while looking, not finding anything new.

He cannot remember the last time he lost control over his emotions like this. He, the leader of Onychinus, ruler of the N109 zone. But regardless of the titles he holds, it feels useless without you by his side. He should have told you. He shouldn’t have run away, trying to fix it on his own.

“Boss! We found a match, it’s one of the rising gangs. They traffic women without significant background so no one looks for them. We don’t know how they found her yet but we’re on their tail, almost know where they went too.” Kieran informs. Luke stands behind his brother, observing. He had never seen his boss like this.

“Good, we’re moving out as soon as we find her, you hear me?” They nod in unison at their boss’s words. Sylus’s phone rings, and when he checks it he sees MC’s name illuminating his screen.

He huffs out a soft curse as he picks up, MC’s soft voice echoing through the phone’s speakers. “Where did you go? I thought i was supposed to break this ‘curse’, how am i supposed to do anything when i don’t even remember anything?”

Her voice was soft, laced with concern. Had he shown how worried he was? He couldn’t remember, all he knew right now was that he needed to get you back asap.

“I know, listen, something happened and i’ll be back as soon as possible, in the meantime please just try to find any leads on breaking the curse.”

His head hurt, it was taking way too long to find you, especially with how many resources he has. What if something happened to you?

A soft sigh resonates from the phone.

“Listen, i don’t know what’s going on, but if i can help in any way, just let me know okay? You looked like you were about to set the world on fire when you left.”

He hums softly. “Thank you miss hunter, but i think it’s best if you don’t get involved in this specific case.”

He rubs his temple, MC agrees and hangs up the phone, leaving him alone with his thoughts once again. Then just like that, one of the twins sends coordinates. He doesn’t need a name to know that they found you, so before his mind can even process, his feet are already moving.

~~~

The door opened again, and this time 3 men entered.

They looked rushed, and one of them moved over to you to untie you. Were they discovered? Were they moving you? Not without a fight they’re not.

As the man stepped behind you to tie you up again you quickly elbowed him, resulting in him falling to his knees gasping for air. You could have sworn you heard bones breaking but you didn’t focus on that as you now had the attention of the other 2 men on you. You could maybe dodge them? You sure as hell were going to try.

As one of them lunged at you, you moved out of the way as fast as you could. He managed to grab a hold of your blouse and tore off your sleeve as the momentum sent him toppling over his friend. Colleague? Didn’t matter. You turn to the other man and you freeze.

Your eyes grow wide as your met with the last man holding a pocket knife in his hands. You were so not prepared for this. You never bad to fight, not even in the N109 zone. Sylus had always kept you close to him so not once had you been forced to retort to violence yourself, but being eye to eye with someone who clearly has the intent to kill made something in your brain switch, clearing up your mind more then any hangover drink ever could.

Your hands tremble as you stare at him, and it’s like a countdown to your death. He swings, and you barely evade, but while stepping away he slices at your arm. A groan escapes your lips as you grab tight to the wound. It’s a shallow cut, but still bleeding much heavier then you would like.

Before the man could swing again the door bursts open with way more force than necessary causing it to fall out of its hinges entirely. And when your met with his crimson eyes you can feel relief wash over your entire being. He looks feral, eyes locked on the man with the knife, and before you can blink the man disintegrates into thin air. The other 2 men follow suit and just like that, your alone with him, heaving heavy breaths of relief.

Tears spill over your cheeks, and before you can fall to the ground he picks you up effortlessly, caging you in his arms.

You wrap your arms around his neck as you allow yourself to let go, and you sob. You knew you looked ugly but you couldn’t care less right now. You were safe. He was here. He cared. Enough to save you at least. Enough to not let you fend for yourself.

And he keeps whispering sweet nothings into your ears as you finally collapse under the heave weight of fatigue, letting him swoop you up.

“We’re going home.”

And then you’re out.

~~~

A/N: Hello! I know every update is taking longer and longer and I'm sorry for that, but I have never written an action scene before and none of worked right in my head :( Thank you for being so patient with my I really appreciate it y'all! That being said, I hope this chapter was worth waiting for and I'll work hard to cook up more delicious food for everyone <3 Have a great day everyone!💕

Taglist:

@jeondyy @animegamerfox @nm4565natty @famouschopshopgalaxy @supershygirl @justpassingdontworry @madam8 @babygirl-panda19 @sleepykittyenergy @corvid007 @bubera974 @t0rchknight @z3vl @lanxianschoenheit @paper--angel @dysphxriaii @strxw-bxrri @sillyfreakfanparty @cordidy @rynnpersonal @maria-elite @dana-nite @misselysia @phisen @wiosna88888 @hao-ming-8 @mentaltrouble2201 @gkfofucha @reni502 @0nychinus @lighting-and-shadow @harbingers-lullaby @yeahhemmings- @moonlight-dream54 @eialovescats @thisfeelswrong @cheshire-kitsune @nutshellera @mblaqgi @iunse @ninaaargh @tenaciouszombiewombat @sylusaethercore @000rpheus @udejoenrlddo @dyeinsomniadontwake @222410 @hon3yydew @angelwhizpers @dyeinsomniadontwake @starllight613 @pluto-890

#love and deepspace #lads #l&d #lads x you #l&ds #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #fanfic #for me it will always be you #angst #l&ds sylus #l&d sylus #l&ds sylus x reader #sylus x non mc

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jikookncity · 2 days ago

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HockeyPlayer!Haechan x FigureSkater!Reader

Haechan is the golden boy with a golden life, he's charming, great at hockey, has the greatest teammates and friends, yet when he goes home at the end of the day he can't help but feel empty. Until he meets the figure skater.

WC: 5.7k, unprotected sex (soft though)

Haechan had it good—at least, that’s what everyone said.

Star winger of the university hockey team. Top ten in his class. Witty as hell, with that dangerous mix of sharp sarcasm and heart-melting charm. Professors liked him. Coaches praised him. The student body practically worshipped him. Girls knew his name, wore his jersey, slid into his DMs with everything from flirty jokes to bold propositions. And yeah, sometimes he said yes.

But no matter how loud the arena got when he scored, no matter how many group selfies or wild parties or post-game hookups came his way… he always went home to silence.

And it lingered. Pressed in at the edges. Like an itch beneath the skin.

He’d scroll through texts and close the app. Watch the ceiling in bed. Lie there in the dark, wondering why the hell am I still feeling this way?

He never found the answer.

So every morning at 6 a.m.—before the world was awake, before the noise and the pressure—he went to the rink.

No fans. No teammates. No coach yelling for speed drills. Just Haechan, a puck, and the echo of his skates scraping the ice.

Until today.

He pushes open the door of the practice rink, stick slung over his shoulder, headphones around his neck. He’s got the usual plan: warm up, fire shots at the empty net, skate till his lungs burn.

But when he steps out onto the cold cement floor and looks through the plexiglass—

He stops.

There’s someone on the ice.

Not just someone. A girl.

She glides like she owns the rink—cutting smooth, elegant shapes into the ice. Her arms stretch like they’re painting music into the air. Her hair, braided and caught by the wind, whips as she spins mid-jump, landing with a soundless grace that makes his breath catch.

She's not wearing headphones. Just completely in tune with the rhythm in her head.

He forgets how to breathe.

Haechan’s seen beautiful girls. Dated a few of them. Flirted with plenty. But this is different.

This is watching art in motion. This is seeing control and freedom at once.

This is the first time his heart stutters for real.

And when she finishes, when she skates toward the bench to grab her water bottle, she notices him—just standing there with his stick and stunned expression.

Their eyes meet through the glass.

She gives a small nod, barely a smile. Polite. Cool.

Haechan lifts a hand in greeting, too casually, like he hasn’t just had his entire soul rocked before 7 a.m.

He’s not sure what just happened, but suddenly, that emptiness in his chest doesn’t feel so heavy.

And all he wants now… is to see her skate again tomorrow.

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

The next morning, he’s there even earlier.

5:45 a.m.

No music in his headphones, no stick in his hands—just a water bottle and the restless need to see her again.

She’s already on the ice.

Of course she is.

This time she’s stretching, balancing one leg behind her on the railing like it’s nothing. She’s in the same fitted jacket, her skates already laced. There’s a thermos next to her bag and a single notebook flipped open on the bench, her handwriting neat and organized.

Haechan lingers by the glass until she looks up, arching an eyebrow like what are you staring at?

He flashes a grin. “Morning.”

“...Morning,” she says. Less cool this time. More curious.

He taps the glass with two fingers. “Didn’t know the rink was booked for angels.”

She doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smile. She just blinks at him like she’s trying to figure out what kind of guy says that at 6 a.m.

Then, calmly, “I prefer practicing alone.”

He’s thrown off. Okay, cold. But fair.

He shrugs, playing it smooth. “Same. But, y’know… I started coming here first."

She nods like she knows that already. “Then maybe we can ignore each other.”

With that, she steps back onto the ice—clean, poised, focused. Like he didn’t rattle her at all.

But he knows he did.

Because halfway through her routine, she glances toward him again.

He starts coming every morning. Always early. Always quiet. He doesn’t push, doesn’t flirt too much. He just exists beside her, skating on his side of the rink while she floats through hers like a dream.

Eventually, she starts leaving the thermos lid off, steam curling up.

One morning, Haechan gains the courage to formally introduce himself.

“I’m Haechan.”

“I know.”

“Oh?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“You’re on the hockey team. Everyone knows.”

He’s surprised she didn’t mention his reputation. Most girls do.

“I don’t know your name,” he says after a beat.

She hesitates. Then, quietly: “Y/N.”

He lets it settle. Tries it out in his head. Y/N.

“You’re a figure skater?”

She glances at him like he’s stupid. “Clearly.”

He laughs. “Okay, cool, we’re doing sarcasm this early.”

She softens—just barely. It’s the first time he sees it, a flicker of a real smile. He stores it like a secret.

They don’t talk much more that day.

But the next morning, when he walks in, there are two thermoses waiting.

One with a pink cap. One with a navy blue one.

He carefully picks up the navy, takes a sip. Hot chocolate.

He smiles, looking over to her across the rink.

“You’re trying to bribe me into leaving, huh?”

Y/N looks up from her laces. “No. I’m trying to make your game less trash.”

He bursts out laughing.

And for the first time in months, the silence that waits for him after practice isn’t heavy at all.

It hums with something new.

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

The morning is quieter than usual. No music. No conversation yet. Just the sharp rhythm of their blades on the ice and the sound of their breaths misting in the cold air.

They’ve been skating together—separately—for a couple of weeks now. Sharing hot drinks. Trading sarcastic quips. Building something silent but sure.

Today, he’s the one who breaks it.

She’s mid-routine, gliding into a graceful spin, arms arched and chin tilted in perfect alignment. He watches from the boards, leaning against his stick. There’s something about the way she moves—like the ice answers to her instead of the other way around.

When she finally slows, coasting toward the wall for a sip of her drink, she hears him speak:

“You move like music.”

She blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

He shrugs like it wasn’t a big deal. “The way you skate. It’s... beautiful.”

Y/N stiffens a little, lowering her thermos. “Is that your thing? Flattering lines at sunrise?”

He grins. “Normally? Yeah. But I mean it this time.”

She raises an eyebrow, skeptical.

He steps closer to the boards, suddenly serious. “When I skate, it’s all speed and force. Slams and bruises. Everything’s about breaking past people, hitting hard, being fast. But you—”

His voice lowers, more thoughtful now.

“You make the ice look soft.”

Y/N blinks again, stunned.

There’s no flirt in his tone. No smirk.

Just truth.

Her fingers tighten around the thermos. She doesn’t know what to say at first. No one’s ever talked about her skating like that. Not coaches. Not her parents. Not even herself. Only scores and technique and corrections.

But Haechan—he’s watching her like he saw something no one else has.

“…Thank you,” she says finally, voice quieter than usual. “That means a lot.”

He nods, still watching her. “Maybe you could teach me sometime.”

She arches an eyebrow. “You? Do a spin?”

“I could be graceful,” he says, striking a ridiculous pose with one hand in the air, one leg kicked out.

She snorts. “You’d tear your groin.”

He laughs loud and full, and she finds herself smiling—truly, this time.

“I’m serious though,” he says, still smiling but more earnest now. “You skate like you feel everything.”

Y/N looks at him for a long second, the quiet of the rink wrapping around them. Then she nods slowly.

“Okay,” she says. “One lesson.”

He lights up. “Hell yeah.”

“But I’m not holding you when you fall.”

“Oh come on,” he grins. “Isn’t that, like, the entire plot of every skating movie?”

She rolls her eyes, but her cheeks are pink.

He can’t stop smiling.

And for the first time, she wonders what it would feel like to let someone into her world—into her rhythm.

Maybe Haechan, with all his speed and spark, could learn to dance on ice after all.

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

They meet earlier than usual. She’s already waiting, lacing up her skates with a smirk.

“You sure about this?” she teases as he steps onto the ice.

“Grace,” Haechan declares, arms wide. “Elegance. Poise. That’s me now.”

She laughs. “We’ll see.”

They start simple—just edge control, nothing fancy. She skates backwards slowly, watching him mirror her steps like a determined, clumsy duckling.

“You’re overthinking it,” she says.

“I’m underprepared for this,” he mutters, wobbling slightly.

She reaches out to adjust his posture, her hands brushing over his arms and shoulders as she moves him into place. He stiffens—not from nerves, but from the warmth that shoots through him when her fingers graze his chest.

Focus, he tells himself.

“Now, try a one-foot glide.”

He does.

And promptly loses balance.

“Sh—!”

Before he can hit the ice, Y/N reacts on instinct—grabbing his sleeve, pulling him toward her to steady him.

Except he’s bigger than she is. Stronger. Off-balance. And she’s on skates too.

They crash hard—both of them tumbling down, skidding slightly.

She lands on top of him, her chest pressed to his, faces barely an inch apart.

The silence after is deafening.

Her hair has fallen into his face. One of his hands instinctively grabs her waist, the other braced against the cold ice. He can feel her breath on his lips. Their bodies flush. Her eyes locked on his.

And for a moment, it aches—with tension, heat, something fragile and new.

Neither of them moves.

Then, with a sharp inhale, Haechan shifts.

He gently pushes her off, careful, hands lingering at her arms as he pulls them both upright again.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low but breathless. “Shit—I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t trying to—”

“I’m fine,” she says quickly, brushing herself off. Her cheeks are very pink.

“Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “That was… less graceful than I imagined.”

Y/N exhales a shaky laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Could’ve been worse.”

He grins, his eyes flicking to hers again, but this time a bit softer.

“Could’ve been a lot worse,” he says.

Neither of them mentions how long they stayed on the ice.

Or how it suddenly doesn’t feel like just lessons anymore.

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

The fall is behind them. Sort of.

Neither of them mentions how long they lay there. Or how warm it felt, despite the ice. But something has shifted — they’re more aware of each other now, in the quiet pauses and lingering glances.

Practice goes on, smoother than before. Haechan’s trying—really trying—and though he’s nowhere near graceful, she can tell he’s determined.

He skates toward her, panting, cheeks flushed from effort.

“I think I just invented a new move,” he says, breathless. “It’s called ‘accidental dive into the boards.’ Gonna change the sport.”

She laughs, handing him her water. “At least you’re not giving up.”

He takes a sip, then gestures toward the journal sitting on the bench. “So what are you working toward? Competition?”

Her expression shifts.

It’s subtle, but the light in her eyes flickers for a second. She nods slowly. “Nationals. December.”

“Solo?”

She hesitates, "I was supposed to do ice dancing. We qualified together last year.”

“We?”

“My ice-dancing partner.” She sets her water down. “He’s been skating with me since we were five. But he tore a ligament a few months ago. Off the ice permanently.”

“Damn,” Haechan murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

She nods, quietly. “I’ve been trying to rework everything alone. It’s not the same. It’s not what we trained for.”

There’s a sadness there—not just frustration, but loss. Of rhythm. Of history. Of something no one else could replicate.

Haechan watches her. The silence stretches between them, soft and thoughtful.

Then, gently: “So… what if you had a new partner?”

She looks up sharply. “What?”

He shrugs. “Not a real figure skater. But… I’ve got good balance. Decent coordination. And I’ve already proven I fall with style.”

She blinks. “You’re joking.”

He meets her eyes, completely serious. “I’m not. I mean, yeah, I’d need training. But if it’s just to get through the competition—keep you in it—I can try.”

She stares at him, stunned. “Haechan. Ice dancing isn’t just skating side by side. There’s rhythm. Lifts. Footwork. Timing.”

“Okay, yeah,” he says, “but I know how to train hard. I’ve got endurance, muscle memory, and—” he smirks, “a pretty killer smile for the judges.”

She wants to roll her eyes—but she can’t.

Because underneath the joke, he’s sincere. He means it.

She studies him for a long second. “Why would you even want to?”

He hesitates. Then shrugs.

“Because I think you’re incredible,” he says simply. “And you shouldn’t have to give up just because your partner had to quit. It's not fair, people should see your talent and you should be able to show it to them.”

Her breath catches.

And this time, when she looks at him, she sees more than the crowd-favorite hockey player. She sees someone who gets it. The discipline. The disappointment. The pressure to keep going even when it hurts.

She crosses her arms, tilts her head. “You’d actually let me boss you around on the ice every morning?”

He grins. “Kinda into that, actually.”

She smacks his arm lightly, but she’s smiling.

“Fine,” she says. “Trial run. One week. If you can’t keep up, you’re out.”

He salutes. “Yes, coach.”

And for the first time in weeks, she feels something steady rising in her chest again.

Hope.

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

They meet the next morning with new energy.

Y/N has her notebook open, fresh drills outlined with neat little arrows and notes. Haechan’s already sweating before they hit the ice, running through stretches like it’s game day.

“This is nothing,” he says. “Just like practice drills with more… toe pointing.”

“You’re going to regret saying that,” she deadpans.

And he does.

Fifteen minutes in, he’s panting, arms flailing as he tries to mirror her steps in sync. She glides effortlessly—an extension of the music she plays from her little speaker. He, on the other hand, looks like someone trying to moonwalk on a treadmill.

“Okay,” she says, skating toward him. “We need to work on lift position.”

“Lift,” he echoes warily. “Like… pick you up?”

She nods. “Basic ballroom hold, first. I’ll show you the stance.”

She steps closer, guiding his arms with her hands. One around her waist, the other holding hers. Her other hand rests lightly on his shoulder.

It’s the most physical they’ve ever been.

Her body fits against his in a way that immediately short-circuits his thoughts. She smells like vanilla and winter air. Her breath is steady. His? Not so much.

“Don’t grip so tight,” she says, adjusting his hand on her back. “I’m not a hockey stick.”

He chuckles, low and a little flustered. “Right. Soft hands. Got it.”

They hold the pose for a moment. Close. Too close.

Her eyes flick up to meet his. And neither of them moves.

The air shifts—something unspoken curling around the space between their mouths.

Then—

She clears her throat, stepping back like nothing happened.

“Try the lift now,” she says. “I’ll jump into it. You just need to support me and hold steady.”

He nods quickly, desperate to shake off the heat rising in his chest.

She skates away, then glides toward him at full speed. He braces. She jumps.

And for half a second, it works.

Her hands on his shoulders. His hands beneath her thighs. Her legs wrapping slightly as he lifts.

But then—

“Shit—”

His balance tilts.

They tumble down again—him landing on his back, her crashing on top of him.

This time, it's worse.

Her face is inches from his, her legs tangled with his skates, her palm flat against his chest. His hand is still gripping her waist, fingers pressing into her jacket.

They're both breathless.

And this time, neither of them laughs.

Haechan swallows hard. He can feel her heartbeat, fast and frantic, against his chest.

“I—” he starts, but his voice cracks.

She blinks down at him, lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed from cold and maybe something more.

He lets go instantly. “Sorry—shit, are you okay?”

She rolls off awkwardly, sitting up beside him. “I’m fine. You?”

“Yeah,” he says, brushing hair out of his face. “That was... very Olympic of us.”

She finally huffs a laugh, rubbing her palms together. “You didn’t drop me.”

He glances at her. “Like I said… I got you.”

Something flickers in her gaze. Warm. Soft. Vulnerable.

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just looks at him like she’s trying to figure him out all over again.

And for the first time, Haechan feels nervous around someone.

Not because he’s worried about what she thinks of him—but because he cares what she thinks of him.

And that’s a dangerous new kind of game.

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

They don’t practice much after the fall.

They skate a little. Talk less. Both shaken—not from injury, but from whatever that moment was on the ice. Neither of them can name it, but it’s been simmering for days, and now it’s just beneath the surface.

After practice, they sit on the bench lacing off their skates. She’s tugging at her laces, unusually quiet. Haechan watches her, brow furrowed.

“You okay?”

She nods without looking up. “Just tired.”

“From skating?” he asks.

She hesitates. Then shakes her head. “From everything.”

He waits, letting the silence invite her in.

Finally, she speaks. “I’ve been working toward Nationals since I was eight. Training before sunrise. Sacrificing everything. And now I’m scrambling to make it work with a brand-new routine, no partner, no coach support. Just... pressure. Expectations. And silence when I go home.”

Her voice cracks, just slightly.

He swallows hard. “That sounds... lonely.”

She nods. “It is.”

His jaw tightens. “I get it.”

Her eyes flick to him, surprised.

“I mean, mine’s different. But yeah. I win games, I’m surrounded by people who cheer for me, who laugh at my jokes, who call me a golden boy—” he pauses, eyes down, “—but I still go home and feel like something’s missing.”

She watches him quietly, her expression softening.

He turns toward her, fully now. “But lately, I don’t feel that way when I’m with you.”

That freezes her.

He’s serious. Not joking. Not smirking. Just... open.

Her lips part, just slightly, unsure what to say.

Haechan’s heart hammers in his chest. He leans forward a little, voice quiet now.

“Can I kiss you?”

She blinks, startled—but not afraid. Her lips twitch into the smallest, shyest smile.

Then she nods.

And he leans in slowly, gently, giving her time to change her mind.

She doesn’t.

Their lips meet, soft and unsure at first. His hand finds her jaw, hers curls lightly around his wrist. It’s delicate, almost hesitant.

Until he tilts his head, kisses her deeper—longer.

Her fingers slip into his hoodie. His other hand finds her waist.

When they finally part, their foreheads rest together, breaths warm between them.

He grins, just barely. “So... does this mean I can ask you on a date?”

She laughs softly, eyes still closed. “You just kissed me. Bit late for formalities.”

He chuckles. “True. But I still want to take you out.”

She opens her eyes, meeting his.

“Okay,” she says. “One date.”

He beams.

“Better make it a good one, hockey boy.”

“Oh,” he whispers, eyes dropping to her lips again, “I intend to.”

And this time, when she kisses him, she doesn’t hesitate.

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

The diner is almost empty when they walk in, that familiar neon buzz lighting up her face in soft pink and blue.

It’s old-school—checkered floors, chrome stools, a jukebox humming in the corner—and she looks at him like he’s insane when he holds the door open with a dramatic bow.

“Only the finest establishment for you, m’lady,” he says with mock grandeur.

She laughs. “You're ridiculous.”

“Hot and ridiculous,” he corrects, pointing to the booth. “After you.”

They slide into the booth across from each other. The menu is sticky and chaotic. She orders a burger. He orders pancakes—at 10 p.m.—and a large strawberry shake with two straws, because he’s cheesy and he knows it.

They talk.

And talk.

They share childhood stories—hers about getting scolded for skating barefoot in the house, his about getting his head stuck in a hockey net twice. She laughs so hard she snorts. He mimics her voice. She flicks a fry at his forehead.

He doesn’t stop smiling the whole night.

Eventually, he slides in beside her, casually throwing his arm over her shoulders.

“You cold?”

She nods, hiding a smile, and lets herself lean into him, her temple tucked under his jaw.

They share fries from the same plate, dipping them into the shake. She makes a face the first time she tries it, but when he gives her a look, she shrugs and goes back for another.

He watches her lick salt off her fingers, and that… that does things to him.

But he behaves. Barely.

They leave close to midnight. It’s cold out, stars spilled across the sky, her breath curling in front of her.

He walks her to her door.

She stops on the porch, turning to face him.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “This was… really nice.”

He smiles, eyes dropping to her lips. “Yeah. It was.”

She bites her lip, hesitant, then looks up through her lashes.

“Will you kiss me again?”

His breath catches.

Then he’s cupping her face, pressing her back gently against the door, kissing her like he’s wanted to all night. Slow at first—sweet, careful—but then she sighs into his mouth and tugs at his hoodie.

And just like that, it ignites.

He groans, pressing closer, her back thudding softly against the door. His hands slide under her shirt, palms skimming warm skin, thumbs teasing at her waist as their mouths move in sync—needy now, deeper, hotter.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly. He gasps against her lips.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She smiles against his mouth. “You started it.”

He leaves a little kiss on her neck and mouth when she gasps.

They finally pull away, both breathless, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. He rests his forehead against hers.

“Goodnight,” she whispers.

He nods, backing away slowly like he might kiss her again if he lingers.

Then he turns and walks home, floating.

When he walks into the apartment, Mark and Jeno are sprawled on the couch eating cereal and playing Mario Kart.

Mark looks up first. “Yo. Why are you smiling like an idiot?”

Jeno squints. “Did you win something?”

Haechan doesn’t answer.

He just walks to the kitchen, opens the fridge, and stares into it like he just unlocked the secret to happiness.

Mark snorts. “Okay, lover boy.”

Jeno grins. “He definitely got kissed.”

Haechan finally turns, resting his head against the fridge door, the stupidest grin on his face.

“We did kiss” he says, dreamy.

Mark groans. “Oh no. He’s down bad.”

Jeno laughs. “So down bad.”

And Haechan just grins wider, closing his eyes.

Because yeah—he is.

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

The morning after their date, the rink feels different.

Not colder. Not warmer. Just… alive.

She’s already stretching by the boards when Haechan arrives, hoodie hanging loose, hair a mess, and that signature smirk playing on his lips like he knows he’s got her thinking about last night.

“You’re late,” she says, not looking at him.

“I was up all night thinking about fries and that cute little noise you made when I kissed your neck,” he replies casually, setting down his bag.

Her head snaps toward him, scandalized—but her cheeks are pink.

“Stretch,” she says quickly, turning away.

He grins. “Yes, coach.”

The moment they hit the ice, it’s different.

Charged.

His hands on her waist linger longer than needed. Her fingers trail along his neck when she adjusts his stance. Their gazes lock between turns. Their mouths get close in holds, breaths brushing but not quite touching.

It’s… dangerous.

And neither of them is pulling back.

“Ready for the new lift?” she asks.

He nods, already sliding an arm around her, the other beneath her thigh. They move in sync now, less awkward, more fluid. She jumps, he catches her clean, her legs curling around his waist just for stability—obviously.

But neither of them moves after.

His hands are gripping her tight. Her body flush against his chest. Their faces… inches.

Her voice is soft. “You’re not letting go.”

“Do you want me to?”

She swallows. “Practice is over.”

He blinks. “It is?”

She nods slowly, heart pounding.

He doesn’t say a word. Just leans in and kisses her.

It’s nothing like last night. This time, it’s hot. Desperate. Familiar now, but still breathtaking. His hands slide up beneath her jacket, dragging along bare skin. Her fingers are in his hair, tugging. She gasps when he deepens it, and he nearly groans into her mouth.

They break apart just barely, panting.

“Wanna come over?” he asks, voice husky. “I’ll cook for you. We can watch a movie. You can keep distracting me.”

She grins, biting her bottom lip.

“You cook?”

“No,” he says, laughing. “But I order really well. I do this thing where I press a button and it shows up at my door.”

She laughs, breathless, leaning in to brush her lips against his again. “Okay. Dinner and a movie.”

He wraps an arm tighter around her. “And maybe dessert?”

She smirks. “Depends how good the movie is.”

He kisses her again, harder this time, and she melts into him.

Practice is very over.

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

Haechan’s place is cozy, dimly lit, the kind of warm that makes you want to stay. Candles flicker on the kitchen counter. A soft playlist hums in the background—something slow, dreamy. There’s takeout spread across the coffee table, half-eaten because they’ve been talking, laughing, stealing bites from each other’s plates instead of focusing on the food.

She’s curled into the couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies. He’s sitting beside her, one arm thrown over the backrest, eyes only on her.

“You keep looking at me like that,” she says, eyes flicking to his.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re not listening to anything I’m saying.”

He leans closer, voice low. “I’m listening. Just… not with my ears.”

Her cheeks flush. She tries to look away, but his fingers gently tip her chin back toward him.

“I’ve been thinking about kissing you all night.”

She smiles shyly. “Then why haven’t you?”

He doesn’t answer. He just leans in.

The kiss is slow, patient. Not rushed. Like they have all the time in the world. His lips part hers carefully, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek. She sighs softly into him, shifting closer, one hand on his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his t-shirt.

When they finally break apart, they’re both breathless.

He nods toward the bedroom. “Do you wanna…?”

She looks at him—really looks at him—and sees nothing but warmth and tenderness and heat.

“Yes,” she whispers.

He kisses her again before standing, taking her hand, and leading her through the dark apartment into his room.

---------

The door to Haechan’s bedroom clicks shut behind them.

She doesn’t even make it a full step inside before his hand slides to her waist and he pulls her in, kissing her like he’s been starving.

Soft, careful kisses are long gone.

This one’s hot, open-mouthed, needy. His lips crush into hers, tongue sliding in when she gasps. His hand fists the back of her hoodie, tugging her closer, like he needs her to feel every inch of how much he’s been holding back.

She moans into him, fingers already curling into his shirt.

“Been thinking about this all damn day,” he breathes against her lips. “Your mouth, your body, the way you looked at me on the ice—fuck, I almost lost it.”

He walks her backward, never breaking the kiss, hands sliding under her hoodie and up her bare skin, palms warm, breath hot.

He lifts her—just scoops her right up—making her squeal against his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck. He carries her like she weighs nothing, grinning into the kiss even as his eyes darken.

He lays her back on his bed, immediately tugging off her hoodie and shirt in one move, eyes drinking her in.

“Jesus,” he murmurs, hovering over her. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

She pulls him down, crashing into another kiss, more desperate now. Their hips grind together, his hands gripping her thighs tight, pressing into the softness there like he’s trying to memorize the feel.

Clothes come off in frantic, messy movements—her bra unhooked with a flick, his shirt stripped off between kisses, pants half-stumbled out of as they fumble and laugh between gasps.

He looks down at her, completely bare beneath him, and stills for a moment, chest heaving.

“You sure?” he asks, voice wrecked.

She nods, eyes glassy with need. “Yes. Please.”

And that’s all he needs.

He kisses her again—slower, deeper, more purposeful—hands roaming her body, mouth trailing down her neck, across her chest, over her stomach. She arches into him, moaning his name when his lips hit just the right spots.

“Fuck, the sounds you make…” he groans, nipping at her collarbone. “Gonna make me cum just from this.”

When he finally slides into her, it’s slow at first, careful, his forehead pressed to hers, their fingers intertwined. Her gasp melts into a moan as he bottoms out, staying still just a moment too long.

Then he pulls back—and thrusts deep.

She cries out.

His rhythm picks up fast, desperate, like he’s been holding back for way too long. Every push of his hips has him groaning her name, mouth hot against her ear.

“Feel so good—so tight—fuck, baby, I’ve been going crazy.”

She moans his name, wrapping her legs tighter around him. “Haechan—oh my god—don’t stop—”

“Not planning to.”

His hand slips between them, thumb brushing fast over her clit, making her jolt, cry out louder. He watches her fall apart beneath him, the way her mouth drops open, the way her nails dig into his back.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, forehead pressed to hers. “You know that, right?”

She nods, eyes barely open, lips trembling. “Yours.”

“Say it again.”

“Yours, Haechan—please—I’m yours.”

He kisses her hard, hips slamming into hers faster, messier, both of them chasing it now. She’s gasping, writhing, completely lost to it—and so is he.

When they come, it’s together—loud, breathless, full-body shaking, his name tangled with hers in the dark.

He collapses onto her chest, both of them covered in sweat, hearts racing.

Minutes pass in silence.

Then he lifts his head, eyes dazed but smiling, brushing her hair back.

“Dinner and a movie, huh?”

She lets out a breathless laugh. “You owe me both.”

He grins, leaning in for another kiss—softer now, lazy and sweet. “Round two’s gonna be a rom-com. Promise.”

She hums, pulling him close again. “Only if there’s popcorn.”

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

The sun peeks through the curtains, golden and slow.

Haechan stirs awake, face buried in the crook of her neck, skin warm, bodies tangled under his sheets. Her leg is still draped over his waist. She’s wearing nothing but his oversized hoodie and a sleepy little smile.

He brushes a soft kiss to her collarbone.

She hums. “Morning.”

“Mm. Best one I’ve ever had.”

His phone buzzes somewhere on the floor, followed by a string of pings.

She groans. “Make it stop.”

He grins and leans over, blindly patting for it. “Probably Mark wondering where I am. Morning practice. I forgot.”

She bites her lip. “Oops.”

He chuckles, finally grabbing his phone.

17 missed messages. 3 missed calls. Group chat: ‘Ice Kings 🏒💀’

Haechan winces. “They’re gonna kill me.”

He taps the call button.

“Bro,” Mark’s voice comes through immediately, annoyed and dramatic. “Where are you? Coach’s been asking—are you alive?”

“Barely,” Haechan says, glancing over at the girl beside him, who giggles under the blankets.

There’s a pause.

“Was that a girl?” Jeno chimes in.

“She giggled, bro,” Jaemin adds. “There’s a hoodie-stealing, bed-hogging, toe-curling girl in your bed, isn’t there?”

Haechan laughs, rubbing his face. “Okay, okay—chill. Yeah. I wasn’t just ‘sleeping in.’”

Mark whistles low. “Okay lover boy. Since when?”

“Since…” Haechan glances at her, smiling. “Since I started skating at 6 a.m. with someone who moves like a dream.”

“Wait,” Jaemin says. “Skating? You mean figure skating?”

The line goes silent.

Then chaos.

“Bro what the hell—are you doing twirls now??” “Did you buy tights?” “IS THERE VIDEO—”

“Shut up,” Haechan groans, but he’s grinning. “She’s a figure skater. I’ve been helping her train for a competition. It’s… not just skating anymore.”

Mark’s quiet for a second. “Wait. You’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

Haechan glances down at her again. She’s holding his pillow to her chest, smiling at him like she’s never smiled at anyone else.

“I really like her.”

More silence.

Then Mark says, “That’s actually… really cool, man.”

“Yeah,” Jeno agrees. “I mean, it’s hilarious, but it’s cool. I bet you look majestic.”

“Like a graceful little hockey fairy,” Jaemin teases.

Haechan groans. “I hate all of you.”

“But we love you,” Mark laughs. “Seriously, though. That’s dope. And kinda hot.”

“Tell her she’s got full team approval,” Jeno adds. “And that she’s officially invited to the next party.”

Haechan smirks. “I’ll let her know. But if you weirdos scare her off, I’m body checking every one of you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Alright, go back to—whatever you were doing,” Jaemin says, snickering. “We’ll tell Coach you pulled a hamstring. Or found religion.”

Haechan hangs up with a laugh, tossing his phone aside.

He rolls back toward her, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her close.

“You heard all that?”

She nods, smiling. “Graceful little hockey fairy?”

He groans. “God. You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Never.”

He kisses her again, deeper now, hand sliding up the back of his hoodie on her body.

“Good. Because I’m not letting you go either.”

Want to read part 2 with the competition, more fluff and smut? Subscribe to my patreon here or read the full story here.

#nct imagines #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct dream #haechan x reader #haechan x you #lee haechan #haechan fluff #haechan smut #donghyuck x you #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck fluff #lee donghyuck

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sevsgiirl · 2 days ago

Text

— this love is glowing in the dark.

sevika week 2025: phantom pains, day 5.

synopsis: sevika has spent most of her life not asking for help, pushing it away even. but when the time came where the pain became too much to bear, she looked to you for salvation.

word count: 1.6k

tags: TONS of angst but with comfort, mentions of injury and recovery.

note: happy day 5 of sevika week, loves! for today’s prompt I chose phantom pains and I really like this one because I was able to explore more of sevika’s struggles with the loss of her arm. so I hope you guys like this too!

she doesn’t want you to see her like this.

she knows her moments of weakness won’t make you love her any less. in the time that you two have been together, you’ve witnessed each other at your highest and at your lowest, and you’ve told her time and time again the same exact thing:

“I won’t go anywhere just because there are days where you don’t feel like your best. you do so much for others already, you don’t need to be everything all at once. especially when it comes to me.”

and she’s held onto that promise very dearly, but she’d be lying if she said that just because you told her you’d love her in spite of her short comings doesn’t mean she’d allow herself to show them to you.

then the incident happened.

when you got the news, you wanted to tear silco a new one. bury him six feet under if you had to, because the sight that greeted you when ran informed you about the explosion and what it did to sevika’s arm, it took everything in you not to break down in tears when you rushed into singed’s lab and saw her lying motionless on the metal bedding where singed performed his surgery.

you had to be physically pulled back when you tried getting to her.

your eyes were bloodshot and narrowed into slits as silco met your fiery gaze with a look of controlled sympathy.

“I apologize for the inconvenience, but rest assured singed will do everything in his power to fix the situation,” he said, referring to her injury as if it was the common flu.

your jaw fell open “inconvenience? inconvenience?! she lost her fucking arm, silco! she’s unconscious for crying out loud! I can’t believe you’d let something like this happen to her! I can’t fucking believe you!”

he let you scream, cry and curse at him until you lost your voice because he knew it was your only way of showing contempt, because anything else was risky - and even you knew that. so you screamed until your throat stung and ran dragged you out of the lab and back to the last drop.

rubbing your back as you cried into your hands, offering their support.

“hey, it’s okay.” ran reassured “she’ll get through it, she’s strong.”

“it’s not about being strong, ran. but this has gone too far. silco knows how much sevika wants to be of use and he fucking took advantage of that. now she played martyr and it caused her so much more than what she should’ve been willing to sacrifice for him,” you spat out, venom dripping from your words.

ran gulped, not knowing what to say “and I understand that, but it’s not like there’s anything we can do.”

you hated the way they said it, like it was a lost cause. as if everything that happened couldn’t have been prevented when you know if you had been there, nothing would’ve happened to her.

but you know her. it’s not like this was out of character for sevika, she’s always been sacrificial, not knowing her limits, and it infuriated you because you knew this attitude of hers was eventually going to lead her down a path she won’t be able to undo.

and you were right.

but still, despite your frustrations you stayed beside her every step of the way and helped her with recovery. it took months for her even to properly get out of bed without having one side of her body completely drag her down, but she was quick to adapt like she always does.

silco went out of his way to commission one of the chembarons a prosthetic for her, not only because he felt like he owed it to her but because you knew he still needed her to be of use to him.

and that angered you in ways where you felt like killing him, especially when you saw the vials of shimmer attached to the mech arm that served to enhance her senses, because in his words:

“due to the loss of your arm it’d be harder to engage in combat. because if you’re still willing to work for me, I need you to be at your absolute best,”

when she told you what he said you could only scoff in response “he has a lot of fucking nerve to ask so much from you after what you’ve already done for him,”

sevika sighed, shaking her head “I was the one who jumped in front of him-“

“still! the least he could do is not act like a jackass! as if you owe him your life!”

“he’s doing what he can to rebuild the under city, and I owe my life to zaun. what I do for him, I do for our people,” she told you, her eyes sunken and pleading “so don’t be unfair. please.”

indignation seeped in as you stared at her with your eyebrows furrowed “I’m not. but you wanna know what is unfair? risking your life for a cause that’s going to take you apart one by one,” you argued “and by the looks of it, you’re already getting there,”

it was hard to navigate the outcome of the explosion but you knew sevika’s well being was above your pride and your resentment.

because yes, even though you were mad at silco it’s not like you can reverse time. and you didn’t want sevika to feel as though what the explosion did to her was a burden to you when it’s not.

you’d walk through the ends of the earth if it meant you’d keep her safe and that she was well taken care of.

that’s why it broke your heart every single day as you watched her recover from her injury and how it just took a toll on her.

whether it was during the day while doing simple chores, or at night when she’d suddenly shoot up from bed, clutching her left shoulder as the pain of the explosion lingered and thrummed through her veins like poison.

she’d let out curses but she’d never shed a tear, insisting time and time again that she was alright. to not make a huge fuss over it.

“I’m fine,” had become a mantra in her daily vocabulary.

and when the time came her new prosthetic was made, you could see the relief on her face knowing from that day onwards, it was going to be less unbearable managing her day to day life. because now at least a piece of her wasn’t missing, or so she’d like to think.

but it wasn’t easy getting used to it at first, especially when screws needed to be tightened and she kept telling you that she got it, that she didn’t need any help, that she was fine. that she’s got this.

but it wasn’t until one night she came home all battered and bruised with her prosthetic in ruins and hanging off, that she could only look at you with somber eyes, a million words being exchanged yet not a single one being spoken.

again, she hated that you had to see her like this. because she was supposed to be the stronger one between you two - the one who protected the other and not the other way around.

“I’m fine, I can take it from here,” she said in a grave tone as she reached forward to try and grab the screw driver from you.

to which you pulled away, settling it down far away from her and before she could protest, you took her face in between your palms, forcing her to look you in the eye as sevika stared back and saw the way your lashes were stained with tears.

“sev, stop. just stop. I know it’s in your nature to want to do everything by yourself, but please just for once. let me help you,”

“I already said that I don’t need-“

“then I might as well leave,”

her heart immediately sunk to her stomach, staring at you with so much panic in her eyes “w-what are you-“

“if you’re so hell bent on not wanting help from me I don’t see the point of this relationship if all you ever do is push me away when I try to be there for you. I’m not doing this out of fucking pity, vika.” you hissed, the fire in your eyes as strong as ever as you glared at her.

then it dwindled into something softer, more vulnerable, frightened “… I’m doing this because I love you.” you said, your voice merely a whisper “because I’d do anything for you the same way you’d do anything for me. and if something happened to you again I wouldn’t know what to do with myself,”

she was quiet, letting your words sink in as you reached for her right hand and laced your fingers with her own - bringing it up as you kissed her bloodied knuckles.

lifting your head as you stared at the light that emitted from beneath her scars, and how they glowed brighter with each deep breath she took.

and how it reminded you of the the time when you told her that you saw her as a painting, so perfect and striking.

and you still stand by it now, even when the paint has cracked and chipped off at the edges.

she was beautiful then, and my god, was even more beautiful now. even when she doesn’t see it.

“I love you,” you muttered “and I’m here even when the pain gets so unbearable - I’ll shoulder it for you if I have to. just please, don’t hide it away from me.”

she spoke not a single word, but instead, she let herself fall into your arms as you caught her, her head being cushioned by your shoulder as she lets out a shaky breath.

“… it hurts,” she muttered, not bothering to conceal it any longer “it hurts so fucking bad,”

you closed your eyes, holding her tighter “I know, baby. I know.”

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #arcane #arcane fanfiction #wlw #lesbian #sapphic #sevika week 2025 #dividers by fairytopea

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y2kstarr · 1 day ago

Text

— ᥫ᭡ streets . . . chris sturniolo

where . . . After attending a frat party at your college, you find your ex, Chris, there, his hands all over some random girl. You try to hold yourself back, but you just can't help but claim back what's rightfully yours.

contains . . . smut, college au, toxic!ex!chris, possessive!reader, cheating (not on reader, but i still don't condone!), oral (m!receiving), degrading, sight praising

credits to @delilahsturniolo for the marathon concept

HOT PINK WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #9

The bass thumped so hard it felt like it was pulsing through your chest, rattling your ribs in time with the heartbeat of the party. The frat house was packed — hot, humid, and chaotic — the scent of spilt beer, cologne, and cheap perfume swirling under the hazy, colored lights.

Bodies were everywhere: dancing, shouting, pushing past each other with red Solo cups sloshing dangerously in hand. Your eyes weren’t really on any of it, though.

They were locked on him.

Chris Sturniolo, leaning against the kitchen counter like the universe owed him something — all smug grin and lazy posture.

A girl was pressed up against him, dark hair, tall, giggling as his hand traced slow, familiar paths over her waist, his lips dragging dangerously close to hers before he kissed her, just barely. Like a tease.

You remembered that kiss. You remembered the way he used to look at you with that same smirk. Like he knew he had you, no matter how hard you tried to act like he didn’t.

And maybe he did.

A flare of heat rushed through your stomach. Jealousy. Rage. Possession. Whatever it was, it felt like a match striking inside your chest. You were across the room before you could stop yourself, eyes fixed on them, your drink forgotten at some sticky corner table.

She peeled away from him after a few more minutes, glancing over her shoulder with a lazy smile before disappearing into the crowd. And just like that, he was alone. Sipping from his cup. Like nothing had happened.

You didn’t hesitate.

“Really?” you snapped, stepping in front of him, arms crossed. “Sloppy second-year? That’s your type now?”

Chris barely glanced at you, then grinned slowly. That toxic, maddening grin. “Well, well. Look what the party dragged in.”

“I saw you, Chris. All over her like you didn’t even wait a week.”

“I didn’t,” he replied, shameless, cocky. “You walked out. What’d you expect me to do? Mourn?”

Your jaw clenched. You hated the way his voice slid like honey and poison all at once — lazy, cruel, irresistible. “You know damn well no one touches you the way I did.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head, eyes roaming over you, a dangerous glint in them now. “That sounds a lot like jealousy, ma.”

“I’m not jealous.” A lie. And you both knew it.

He laughed under his breath, stepping a little closer. “No? Then why are you still talking to me? Why do you look like you’re about to claw that girl’s eyes out?”

God, You hated him. And you hated yourself for the way your heart still jumped when he got close. For the way your body remembered everything, even when your brain screamed at you to forget.

“I’m just saying,” you hissed, leaning in, your voice low, possessive, “I’ve been trying to move on... But no one is you." you glanced down, as if now embarrassed by saying your feelings out loud. "No one makes me feel like you do, and I hate it. I hate you.”

“You hate me,” he repeated, like the words amused him. “And yet here you are.”

“I’m obsessed with you, and I hate it.” You finally said, eyes meeting his as the words practically free fell from your lips.

That knocked the smirk off his face — just for a second. But then he recovered, and his eyes darkened, half-lidded and knowing.

“Say that again,” he murmured, stepping even closer now. His breath smelled like alcohol and bad decisions. “Say it slower.”

“I’m obsessed with you,” you repeated, tone sharp like a knife. “I think... I think about you all the time. I can’t stop. And the second I saw you with her—” Your voice cut, swallowed by the music. “I wanted to burn this place down.”

Chris let out a low whistle. “Damn. You’re insane, ma.”

You smirked. “Only for you.”

He set his drink down behind him and without another word, you grabbed his hand and dragged him away from the counter. You weaved through the chaos — the flashing lights, the bodies, the thud of bass-heavy music — until you found a side room, half-abandoned, dim, someone’s jacket tossed carelessly over a couch.

You pushed him inside.

He hit the wall with a soft thud, laughing like this was all just another game you were playing — and maybe it was. Maybe that was all the two of you were. Fire and Fire. Always burning, never learning.

You grabbed his face and kissed him hard, like you needed to erase the taste of that other girl from his mouth. He groaned low in his throat, grabbing your waist, pulling you closer.

“You’re insane,” he whispered again between kisses, lips trailing down your jaw. “Like… clinically obsessed.”

“I thought we already established that.”

He chuckled. “And you’re still mad.”

“I’m always mad,” you growled. “Because I want you to myself.”

He grinned against your skin. “You always did like marking what’s yours.”

That was it. The tension broke like glass underfoot. His hands were on your hips, under your shirt, in your hair. Clothes shifted and mouths didn’t separate for more than a breath. It was messy, heated, frantic — the air thick with resentment, history, and lust. The kind that came from knowing someone too well, too deeply. From never really getting over them.

Chris’s mouth was on yours again, hot and urgent, like he’d been waiting for this since the day you stormed out of his apartment and slammed the door behind you. His fingers dug into your hips like he was claiming you all over again, pulling you so close the echoing music and drunken shouting outside the bathroom faded beneath the sound of your breathing and the squeak of your back hitting the sink.

The flickering bathroom light stuttered overhead, casting harsh shadows on the tiles and catching the sharp line of his jaw, the half-lidded, cocky look in his eyes that made your blood boil and your stomach twist. You hated how effortlessly he got under your skin.

"You miss this," he murmured, voice lazy but laced with fire, lips brushing the skin just beneath your ear as he tugged up your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. "You miss me."

"Shut up," you hissed against his lips, even as your hands yanked up the hem of his hoodie, feeling as he helped take it off for you. "You think I’m here because I like your personality?"

"You’re here because you can’t help yourself," he whispered against your neck. "Because no one else ruins you the way I do."

You swallowed a curse as his teeth grazed your jaw. He was right, and he knew it. That smug, infuriating smirk was plastered across his face as his hands still roamed your sides with a hungry confidence, letting you take what you wanted — knowing you would.

"You're still mine, Chris," you breathed, stepping between his legs, your glare sharp, your voice even sharper. “Don’t think for a second she had even half of what I give you.”

He tilted his head, that smirk never leaving. “Then come show me, baby. Show me what she didn’t.”

It was a challenge — and you accepted without hesitation, kissing him like it meant something more than it should. His grip tightened on your thighs, pulling you against him, your hips grinding slow, steady, heated, huffs of moans and groans already leaving your lips.

His voice, slick and sinful, ghosted against your lips. “You don’t even care if someone walks in, do you? You just need to remind me I’m yours. Isn’t that right?”

You didn’t deny it.

Because it was true.

You didn’t want him back. Not really.

You just needed to own him again — one more time.

Chris groaned as you rolled your hips just right, the bulge in her jeans hardening against your thigh. You couldn't help the way your hands almost frantically slid down to work at his button and zipper, pulling a chuckle out of him as you tugged them down to show his boxers.

You didn't waste another second before getting onto your knees before him.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the musky scent of his arousal filling your nostrils as you leaned in close. Your fingers trembled slightly as you wrapped them around the thick, pulsing shaft that strained against the confines of his boxers.

With a soft breath, you hooked your fingers into the waistband and tugged his underwear down, allowing his impressive length to spring free. It bobbed before your face, the swollen, flushed head already glistening with precum, your eyes trained on it before looking up at Chris.

Maintaining eye contact with him, you flicked your tongue out to lap at the pearly bead, savoring the salty-sweet taste of his excitement. Chris's breath hitched, his lips parting as he let out a guttural groan.

"Fuck, your tongue..." he rasped, one hand coming down to tangle in your hair, urging you closer.

Emboldened by his reaction, you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it as you took him deeper into your mouth. The weight of him on your tongue, each vein and ridge filling your mind with memories of unforgettable nights with him.

You could feel him growing harder by the second, his cock pulsing and twitching as you took him inch by inch into the warm, slick haven of your mouth. Your eyes flickered up at him as you took him as much as you could, the tip of his cock pressing against the back of your throat.

"S–Shit, baby, you suck cock way better than her," Chris grunted, referring to the girl you'd seen with him earlier, his fingers tightening their grip in your hair. "She's never— ungh— taken me this deep before. Fuck, your mouth is incredible."

His words, laced with pleasure and surprise, only fueled your determination to make this experience unforgettable for him. You relaxed your throat, taking him even deeper until your nose pressed against the coarse hair at the base of his shaft.

Chris let out a strangled moan, his hips bucking forward slightly as he fought the urge to thrust into your mouth. "Holy hell, all the way— ahhh— take it all, baby. Fuck, you look so good with your lips stretched around my dick."

You held him there, deep in your throat, your muscles fluttering around his throbbing length as you gazed up at him with lust-filled eyes, before you started bobbing your head. The bathroom filled with the obscene sounds of your slurping and his groans, the pulsing music outside fading into the background.

In that moment, nothing existed but the taste of him, the scent of his skin, the power you held as you brought him to the edge of ecstasy, his cock pulsing and twitching urgently against your tongue.

You could feel the heat of his skin, the power of his arousal, the desperation in his touch as his fingers twisted almost painfully in your hair.

"Ma, fuck... if you keep sucking me like that, 'm not gonna last much longer," Chris panted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Your mouth is so— so fucking good. Way better than..."

He trailed off, not wanting to compare you to his girlfriend any further. Instead, he focused on the sensation of your lips gliding along his shaft, your tongue swirling and flicking in ways that made his eyes roll back and his jaw clench.

You could taste the saltiness of his sweat, the muskiness of his arousal, the unique flavor that was distinctly him. It spurred you on, urged you to take him deeper, to suck harder, to wring every last drop of pleasure from his throbbing cock.

"Baby, I'm gonna— fuck— 'M gonna cum," Chris grunted, his grip on your hair tightening to the point of pain. "Swallow it, baby. Take it all, every last fucking drop."

With a strangled cry, his hips jerked forward, burying his cock deep in your throat as he began to pulse and throb, spilling his hot seed directly down your throat.

You felt the first hot, thick spurts of his release hitting the back of your throat, the sensation making your own body shudder with a mix of satisfaction and arousal. Chris's grip on your hair tightened even further as he held you in place, his hips twitching and jerking with each wave of his intense orgasm.

"F–fuuck—" Chris groaned as he came down from his high, panting as his body leaned back against the wall, looking down at you with glossy eyes, a smirk on his lips.

He slowly withdrew his softening cock from your mouth, a strand of saliva and semen connecting your lips to his glistening tip, pulling a groan from his lips before he tucked himself back into his jeans, watching as you stood and wiped your mouth.

"So? Better than your little girl toy?" You teased as you leaned in to kiss him, moaning softly against his lips as his hand gripped your hip once more, deepening the kiss just a bit before pulling back to whisper against your lips.

"So much fucking better, ma."

☆ : so sorry this isn't proofread yet- absolutely LOVED writing this concept– don't know if it turned out good tho 😭 Hope you guys enjoy tho!!

taglist 🏷️

#y2kstarr★#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo blurb #chris sturniolo drabble #chris sturiolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x you #sturniolo blurb #sturniolo drabble #sturniolo fanfic

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karaaeilish · 9 hours ago

Text

★ old habits; b. eilish. . .

★ a/n — i don't wanna directly connect this to the new pics of billie and nat. this fic's been in my drafts for a long time, and now seemed like the perfect time to post it. i don't encourage hate or anything like that. so please treat this work the same as all the others !

★ angst `

for as long as you were together, you had one little habit that never went away. it was just something normal, something ordinary. it was a sign that you were okay, that nothing had changed, that your heart still beats just as hard at the thought of seeing her again. and it doesn't matter if you haven't seen each other for two hours or two weeks.

you always jump on her. just run up and throw your arms around her neck, legs wrapped around her waist every time when she was coming home after a long drive or any other situation when you saw each other after a while. billie was always strong enough to hold you in her arms calmly while you wrapped your limbs around her like a little koala. that was the nickname she gave you.

on normal days it was always energetic and joyful, hugging her tightly around the neck and leaving kisses on her cheek, her lips, her forehead, until her whole face was covered in traces of your lipstick and you were both giggling. she would carry you around the house for a few more minutes, making you feel like a little girl.

other days, after fights or tense moments, it was touchy-feely, slow, sensual. you would approach her with eyes puffy from crying, slowly climbing on top of her or holding out your arms for her to lift you herself, letting you lean completely on her. you'd hold her tighter than usual as she carried you to the bedroom, gently lowering your body onto the soft mattress. she'd take your hands in hers, listening patiently as you told her what had hurt you. so you could sincerely apologize to each other, and then fall asleep with her head on your chest, listening to your calm breathing and counting the beats of your heart under her cheek.

it was always so normal. so real.

but this time, apologizing wouldn’t help.

billie was leaving for a few days to support one of her friends before their concert. you didn’t have to ask her who would be there. she just laid her head on your lap, telling you every detail and every plan. said she just wanted to have fun, and you let her go without a second thought, knowing that the only thing you’d worry about was that she’d fall over again, coming home with a bunch of new bruises.

it was dark outside, the summer air ventilating your apartment through the small crack of an open window. the clock had just struck 10 PM, and you heard the soft click of the front door. and then that achingly familiar voice. your chest tightened. billie put her bag down on the floor, shouting that she was home and opening her arms wide for you to embrace her. but you remained still. there was only silence in response, and then she really tensed up.

“baby?” she nervously takes off her shoes, hurrying further into the apartment and entering the only room with a light on — the living room. billie's eyes scan everything she sees, and her gaze lands on you, sitting on the couch, curled up into a ball, making you look even more fragile.

there was a shit ton of papers scattered across the coffee table, and billie didn't realize what they were until she got closer, picking up a few of them in her hands. her eyes glazed over. her heart stopped for a few moments. pictures. her. some girl you didn't know. kissing. her stomach dropped.

the half minute of silence stretched on for an eternity as she continued to stare at the same photo, as if hoping the image would change. fade. burn away under her gaze.

“is this how you hang out with your friends now?” your voice was quiet, broken. so hurt that there was no accusation in it. just the raw pain tearing at your heart for the last few hours that you had spent in the same position, staring at the same images. and the longer you stared, the more unreal they became. everything became so unreal, so empty and meaningless. “i thought i could trust you, billie.”

using the full form of her name made her almost choke on air as she began to realize the scale of the disaster. the air between you grew heavy and thick, preventing either of you from breathing properly.

"baby, i…" she takes a step forward, as if trying to reach you, but you just move, sinking further into the soft cushions of the couch. you were disgusted. disgusted by her, by yourself, by this woman whose face you saw for the first time. a woman who turned out to be better if your girlfriend decided that kissing her was something that would bring her pleasure. no matter how much you loved her, it was only her choice and her decision. only her responsibility.

the thought of her touch chokes. a few hours ago, you wanted nothing more than to hold her again, to feel the warmth of her body warming your eternally freezing limbs, but now? now you're afraid that if her skin refuses to touch yours, you'll break up. forgive her. let her fix everything.

but there is no point in that when she's already broken your heart.

"i'm so sorry my love, i didn't know what i was doing.." she tries to justify herself, but you won't let her. you don't want to hear anything else, just because you know that every next word spoken with such tenderness will crush your heart even more. "billie. please, shut up. just stop talking."

you stand up from the couch abruptly, too abruptly for your usual behavior, making billie flinch.

"this is the end. we're done. i don't wanna hear your excuses."

your words are dripping with venom. or rather, you make them sound like that, just so she won't be tempted to continue apologizing. just because you know that eventually the tears will break through, flowing like a river down your cheeks and you'll find yourself in her arms, drowning in the tenderness of her words and the caress of her touch. you give in to the way her strong arms hold your trembling body, not allowing you to move an inch.

"i love you" she whispers. desperately. tears pool in the corners of her eyes.

"i love you too. that's the problem"

౨ৎ tags; @billiesbabygirll, @amara-eilish, @st0nerlesb0, @bxllxebxtch @mystiquemm, @bilswifee, @dragoneyelashart, @bilssturns, @chrissv4mp, @allyeilishh, @bitchesbrokenpromises, @too-sapphic-to-function, @thefeverburningalive, @peytonglazesbillieeilish, @1nn3rthOughts, @thebluediner, @xiletay, @eilishsfantasy, @ariieeesworl

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ricgraysonmemorial · 2 days ago

Text

(have another bite of a wip fic!)

The plan ride was quite, at least, to a certain extent. Batman had been filling them in on what was going on below, everyone was called in for the massive robotic take over. The field was covered in small ant-like movements, where tall purple and green robots towered over them with very few still smoking from being destroyed. Not that it mattered, Tim sighed inwardly. Obviously, it was Lex Luthor’s work. No one loves purple as much as that guy does, well… he glanced at Batgirl as she twirled her own bo staff in her purple gloved hand. Stephanie was a close second. Everyone was knocked out of their pre-fight stupor as the Batplane took a sharp downward turn to avoid a giant arm that was tossed in the air.

“We should drop down now,” Nightwing stood, moving to the hatch controls. “No time to waste.”

They were off the ground just high enough to avoid a full disturbance, but still land safely. Robin was the first to drop down, Damian itching for a fight. Nightwing followed as expected. Cass made everything look unfairly graceful. Thus, leaving Tim and Stephanie to follow. Batman always dropped down last when others were with him. All stood together for the moment, surveying the scene before Batman gave his orders. Groups of superheroes fighting efficiently, arrows were flying and beams of energy arched in the air. Of course it won’t be enough, the robots kept coming which means they need to find the leader or main power source operating them. Others seemed to have the idea well in hand, they just couldn’t shake the things off to get anywhere.

Tim heard the battle cry before he could even see the group of Amazons. He felt a surge of confidence. Oh, they want to find the source? They got it!

He took a few steps away from the others, Nightwing made a noise going to call out to him before Tim stuck his hand in the air as the other half cupped around his mouth to project his voice.

“Dude,” he yelled as loud as he could over the fighting. “Can you play a song with a fucking beat?”

The tuff of blonde hair jumped in the air, and flew towards him. Tim was always thankful for Cassie’s quick work as she grabbed his hand with a happy: “Rob!” With a bright smile, she flew them up a little higher, lining Tim up with one of the robots as he extended his bo.

“Hit it like rom-pom-pom-pom!” Cassie laughed as she tossed Tim right at the mechanical head, him acting like a spear as he broke off the head and then flipping back as the head snapped off he flew threw the air.

Good to know! He started thinking quick. The power source was stored in the ‘head’ of the models, cheap move but one they can work with well in hand.

“Make a bitch go on and on!” Tim gave Cassie a high five on his way back to the ground. He moved to speak to her, always quick to make a plan with his bestie-slash-fellow leader, before a giant arm flew over head, destroying another robot that was coming in the destroyed one’s place.

“It's a femininomenon!” Kon yelled from on high, as loud as he could with a big boisterous laughter. The pair below laughed just as happily.

“SB!” Cassie waved him down. “We were just getting ready to make a plan.”

Just as Conner started falling down, a gust of wind nearly knocked him down.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” Bart chanted, sitting on top of Conner’s shoulders with his toothy smile. “Ain't nothing gonna break my stride, nobody gonna slow me down!”

“Oh no,” Conner grabbed Impulse off of his shoulders, holding him from take off. “Where are we goin’, fearless leaders?”

Tim surveyed the landscape, seeing a grey box in the distance. He nudged Cassie, pointing to the same shape.

“Oh, it can’t be that easy,” she laments, seeing the distance. “Where’s Supercar when you need ‘em.”

“Happily raising it’s car baby,” Conner pouts, before pointing for Bart to see and releasing him. “C’mon! We’ve got to keep on moving.”

Cassie grabbed Tim’s arm again, lifting them both in the air as Bart and Conner kept chanting.

“Ain't nothing gonna break-a my stride,” Bart jumped happily.

“I'm running, and I won't touch ground,” Conner flourished in the air.

“Oh no,” Tim laments watching the pair start kicking at the box that was obviously the command unit.

“I got to keep on moving,” Cassie finished the chorus, she smiles down at Tim as he grumbles -- though it is playful as he’s quick to give a smile of his own forming his plan.

“Did we learn nothing from our days in the cave?” Tim asks as they land next to the unit, arms crossed as Kon and Bart look at him like they’re in trouble. Tim starts laughing. “I’m just fucking with you, god. Here.”

“You’re so mean to us, Rob,” Kon complains watching as Tim waves a little device around, as Bart nods his head in agreement with Kon.

“At least tell us your plan?”

“Feel like blowing things up,” Tim shrugs, grabbing the devices needed. “Any objections?”

Cassie tilts her head. “Think we can make it a heart shape?”

Tim pauses, weighing their options. It would be fun.

“We are so going to try!” Bart agrees, grabbing a handful from Tim so they can work faster. “A little love to Lexie from Just Us.”

Tim moves after they apply explosives to what is obviously the door, telling the others to get behind him. To which they all grab him as soon as his thumb his the detonator.

young justice core four but we keep them as a bunch of stupid kids doing goofy things. Like tim is completely seeing his friends half way across the battlefield and screaming some stupid song to get cassie's attention, suddenly she's picking him up and throwing him into a robot that he breaks w his bo staff Leaving their respective families looking so confused as he jumps off and has a few lines of in-jokes with her.

this does not stop until every single one of them are grouped together, all of them chanting a song together while they're literally sweeping their section of the field. No one has seen any of them smile that big in weeks.

#wip fics #mod post

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jjknowsball · 2 days ago

Text

Perfection Ch 3.

Summary: AU Fic where Paige is a D1 Football player and Azzi is an overwhelmed Biology major.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning: Typical party stuff, (Weird obsessed Ex that ignores boundaries), Power dynamic, Alcohol,

Note: I lowkey hate how I wrote this chapter but I needed to get it out.😪

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The invitation comes the following day through the slot of Azzi’s door in the middle of one of her and Caroline’s late night study sessions.

“What’s that” Caroline ask as she looks at the orange and purple piece of paper that Azzi picked up.

“Paige wants me to go to her birthday party” Azzi says very matter of factly before discarding the invite on her desk. She could care less about a party with all of the midterms she had coming up. Especially with her Ochem grade falling behind.

“Woah, are you being for real” Caroline says as she jumps up to grab the invitation off the desk before scrambling to read it. “You just got invited to the best party of the year and you are just going to throw it on your desk like it is a homework assignment”

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on going or anything. The Slime mold guy is giving a presentation, which I go to every year, and plus there is gonna be free pizza.” Azzi rambled on.

This is the way that she has spent her last two college Halloween and she wasn’t trying to change it for a girl who almost took her out.

But maybe she should change and now that she thinks about it the man gave her the same pitiful look as she excitedly spent her Halloween at the presentation with an unimpressed Caroline and Ines (Who only came for the IHOP trip afterwards.)

Caroline turns to really look at the girl as if she was crazy before stating.

“We are going to this party, whether I have to drag you there or not.”

The brunette groans seeing no way out of going to a party for her roommate who almost took her out.

“Let’s meet in your room to pre-game Saturday” Caroline says as she grabs her bag to leave

Once she is out of earshot, Azzi turns over in her bed and screams into her pillow.

———

Azzi spends the rest of the week dreading the fact that she has to go to the party. She has tried everything to stop Caroline from making her go. From bribes, to heckling her from the sideline at club basketball as she nursed her hurt leg.

She even made Xavier draw a picture of her in a jail cell with the words “Free Azzi” underneath.

None of that matters to the other girl, as she found herself getting ready in Azzi’s dorm room.

“This is going to be so much fun” Caroline stated as she sorted through her costume options “Who knows we might even find someone to hook up with, so we can have a true college experience.”

The emphasis on college experience almost made Azzi throw a pillow at her head. She was just fine spending all of her time in the lab.

“Absolutely not” Azzi declared. She had never been one for hook up culture and the thought of having to talk to any guy on campus icked her out and talking to a girl sent her into heart palpitations.

“It’s not that bad, maybe you can even see what is happening with you and Paige” Caroline chimed in while applying eyeliner. She should have seen it coming, between all of the vent sessions that the brunette had, she should have known that Carolina had been observing her.

“Nothing is going on there, Car” Azzi stated defensively-folding her arms

“Sure, You went from almost about to kill her in her sleep to being invited to her birthday party in one day” Caroline commented, throwing her arms up “but sure, there nothing there”

Sure, Azzi could admit that her roommate was attractive, but she wasn’t trying to mess with the positive streak that they had just started. She has gone three days without homicidal thoughts about the blonde.

It would also mean opening a can of worms she wasn’t ready to deal with.

“Ines save me” Azzi cried dramatically wrapping her arms around the younger girls waist as she layed in the bed, paying no mind to her and Caroline shenanigans as she played the Sims on Azzi’s computer.

“Fine, What are you gonna wear” Caroline asked, realizing she wasn’t getting anywhere.

“My Olaf onesie” Azzi announced like it was the easiest decision in the world.

“Nope we are not doing this again” Caroline groaned as she picked up her phone “I am calling for back up.”

The phone rings for three seconds before the person on the other line picks up

“What’s up, Car” Aaliyah, who was the three girls former mentor, before going to one of the most prestigious Med school in the country,asked (and yes Azzi was still salty about her moving so far away from them.)

Caroline spends the next ten minutes catching the older girl up- from their awful housing assignment, to Azzi’s superstar roommate, and the party that they were about to attend before waiting for the verdict.

“Az, you’re going to that party and you are going to wear a sexy costume, and you are going to have fun” Aaliyah egged on which Caroline encouraged “ You have no reason not to”

“But Lili” Azzi cried

“Nope, go have the fun I never had and tell me about it when I come in town next week” Aaliyah demanded, leaving Azzi with no other choice.

With the help of the Ines and Caroline, and Aaliyah over the phone, she had gotten dress in 45 minutes. They had decided to go with Caroline’s old costume from freshman year.

Staring into the mirror, she can’t help but notice that her current appearance was nothing like her typical STEM uniform of a baggy hoodie and sweatpants.

The pink corset hugged her torso in all of the right places and the lace at the top wrapped around her arms. The tight corset pushed her chest up to the right place and the ribbon in the middle was the cherry on top.

The matching pink skirt hugged her waist and was sooo much shorter than anything she would typically wear. Her face was perfectly dolled up and her curls were out in full form that gave value to her face. Caroline had even given her the matching wand and tiara that finished off the perfect princess look.

“Perfect” Caroline announced as Ines shaked her head in agreement as if they were her typical Fairy Godmothers

———

Azzi definitely believes that the slime mold presentation would have been better than the crowded Airbnb she had just entered. The house was ginormous and was covered head to toe in white luxury brands.

From the copious amounts of drinks that were floating around, to the frat boys that were running off the roof into the pool, and the people making out on what looked like the owner’s brand new white couch. She was definitely overstimulated.

From the looks of it, Paige had went way over broad and she didn’t even want to think about how high the cleaning fee or insurance that Paige was going to have to pay.

Azzi’s plan was to stick with Caroline and Ines for the whole night before eventually heading to IHOP. She had even plan to slip Paige’s gift on the way out, avoiding a full confrontation.

All of that went out the window when a lean man with brown curls had snatched Caroline away ( Not before Caroline asked 500 times would she be ok.) And now Ines had a group of girls who were complimenting her homemade Sims plumbob head band that she choose to wear

Ines had really forgotten her costume but Azzi respected the grind.

So now all she could do was stand againist the wall pretending to know all of “Dreams and Nightmare” until she had felt a tap on her shoulder.

“I saw that there was a Slime mold presentation on a flyer and I thought I had lost you” Paige remarked, hanging her arm over Azzi, almost as if they had been long term friends.

Azzi turns around to find the blonde wearing a matching spider web set and was wearing hard hair down. Despite not wearing a costume, her aura was different, almost as if she knew she was in her element.

“I didn’t have a choice” Azzi groaned out as she looked at the flickering lights. She had to look anywhere else or she might just combust in to flames.

“Well I am glad you came” Paige yelled over the music “You look so pretty tonight.”

The blonde was clearly inebriated and whatever was in the cup in her other hand sure wasn’t helping her case. Before Azzi could even answer her remark, Paige was dragging her off to the front of the house.

———

The kitchen was filled with any drink imaginable and around it was the majority of the women’s football team starting line up. The girls appeared to be in a game of who could fit the most whipped cream in their mouth.

“I totally won that” Ice mumbled out, whipped cream spilling out of her mouth as she talked.

KK who was already choking and tired of Ice’s bullshit, decided to take matters into her own hands. Taking a new can of whip cream and spraying it all over the taller girl.

“Are they always like this?” Azzi asked watching the two older girl tackle each other in the small kitchen walkway.

“This is actually calm for them” Paige muttered, grabbing two red solo cups before filling them up to the brim with a mysterious liquid. “ Ignore them, this is step one for UConn Party, it stops you from questioning the crazyness around you”

Paige reaches a cup towards Azzi which she graciously takes.

Not before thinking about how hard Katie must be turning in her sleep knowing her daughter is doing something to disturb her psyche like taking a drink from a semi-stranger.

She brings the cup to her lips and is immediately overwhelmed with the different components-the Vodka, sprite, the Grenadine- and god knows what else is in the cup. Her first instinct is to spit the god awful drink out but after turning to face an amused Paige, her only option is to put on her big girl pants.

“Most people would’ve been looking for the nearest trash can, good job rookie” Paige says completely impressed.

“I don’t understand why anybody would drink that” Azzi says disgusted, stick her tongue out, “Do you believe me now when I say, I go to parties”

“It’s for the buzz” Paige jokes lightly slapping the younger’s girl back “ and I still don’t believe you.”

Azzi hangs her head in defeat as the older girls eyes pop out.

“I haven’t introduced you to the team” Paige says looking out at the group of girl who have moved on to another topic

“The one dressed up as an Ice cube is Isuneh”

“Government name is crazy” Ice points out “ I go by Ice hence the costume.

“Anyways that’s KK in the good burger costume, the girl with the nurse costume is Evina, to the left of her with the shark onsie is Jana, and the girl who looks like a fashionista on the end is Nika.” Paige rambles on about her teammates.

Azzi notices the way the older girl talks about her teammates with pride. Even though they look like some of the craziest people alive. She is definitely adding this to her positive list of Paige habits.

“And you’re the roommate who Paige almost murdered with a football” Nika asked with a menacing smirk “She talks about you all the time”

“Bro, chill” Paige chocked. “No I don’t.”

Her ears turn bright red and the blonde begins to fidget with her jacket.

Just as Azzi was about to make a joke. A wavy brunette who was intoxicated out of her mind walked up to Paige.

Azzi wasn’t one to slut shame but the gir looked as if she had just clocked out of a strip club and pulled up to the party.

What took Azzi by surprise was how the girl pushed Paige against the countertop. Quickly dropping to her knees as if it was a scene straight out of a porno. Her hands rose to the tie of Paige’s sweatpants before she could react.

“What are you doing?” Paige asked in utter shock, pushing the smaller girl to her ass. The scene caused everyone in the party to freeze and look towards the kitchen.

“Giving you your birthday present, silly” she laughed innocently, as if she wasn’t about to give unconsensual head in front of everybody.

“Why can’t you get the fact that we are no longer together in your fucking head” Paige angrily yelled , her tone doesn’t match the pure fear that was casted over her face. The blonde’s eyes darted back in forth at the herd of people around her.

“It was just a joke, you still take everything so seriously” the mysterious girl scoffed, brushing her self off as she stood. She took one final look at the blonde before disappearing back into the sea of college students towards her rowdy friend group who was egging her on.

Once the blonde confirms that her ex was out of her sight, she lets out a long sigh

“You good P” Nika asked

“Yea that was fucked up” Jana added on.

“Next time I see that bitch it’s on sight” Ice commented as KK demonstrated the punches she would land.

“Yeah, I am okay guys” Paige tried to emphasize with a big smile that didn’t match her eyes. “I need to check on something.”

The older girl grabbed her phone before leaving the room, leaving the group worried.

“Follow her” Evina reassured Azzi as she placed her hand on her shoulder “She needs someone who isn’t her teammate right now.”

———-

It takes Azzi ten minutes to find Paige in the huge mansion. Mainly due to the fact that she kept opening the wrong door to finding couples trying to make it to third base. The amount of sorry she has pathetic uttered in the last ten minutes should be entered for some Guinness World Record.

Azzi has also spent the last couple of minutes racking her brain for any connections of who the girl might possibly be. She is pretty sure she has seen the girl on campus in some capacity. Big sign, meet and greets, athletic promotions.

“They sent you up here” Paige asked, scaring the mess out of Azzi as she was deep in thought. The older girl was not in the spot that Evina had told her about. She was sprawled on the long sofa in the loft that looked out of huge glass windows with a balcony on the other side.

“Yea, but I wanted to check on you” Azzi admitted. Paige eyes widen at the statement before returning back to its neutral state.

“There is nothing to check on” Paige stated “My crazy-ex, willow, who thinks she owns me because our families have been going to the same tailgate since the dawn of time and because her family are boosters for my team, does something crazy, shocker”

It was all starting to come back to Azzi at the mention of her name. Willow was the captain cheerleader who was always attached to the hip with Paige at every event. Carolina would always talk about how they were each others one true love until they had a messy break up.

“That doesn’t give her the right to touch you like that” Azzi frowns. She knows that she is overstepping her boundaries of their week long friendship but the way that Paige is writing this off is concerning.

“ I am used to it, with you know the fans and whatnot” Paige utters as if it was everyday thing to get assaulted.

“You don’t have to be okay with it”

“Can’t disappoint my fans and my people” Paige says as she gives Azzi a weak smile, trying to put the conversation to rest as she walks onto the balcony.

The two fall into a natural silence until Azzi says something.

“For someone who is so excited about throwing a Halloween birthday party, you sure didn’t put a lot of effort in your costume” Azzi comments looking straight ahead at the party guest and the night time sky. She could tell that Paige need a break from talking about her crazy ex.

“See, I like the horror, making people almost piss their pants through pranks Halloween” Paige rattled on “Not so much the costume, passing out candy bit”

“You haven’t pranked me yet” Azzi stated

“It’s coming don’t worry” Paige reassured “Right now it is time for Step two of a great UConn party.”

The blonde takes off her matching set to reveal a purple two piece underneath. The top was more adjacent to a sports bra while her bottoms showed off her fit legs.

It takes every atom in Azzi’s body to not a stare at the blonde physique.

“Did you wear a swimsuit underneath, like I told you” Paige asked.

Azzi nodded her head as she took off her corset and skirt to show a pink strapless swim top and matching bottoms.

Paige makes eye contact with the younger girl before jumping off the balcony into the huge pool below. She stays under the water for a bit before coming up to the surface to motion Azzi to do the same.

If Azzi was in her right mind, she would be looking for the signs about no diving and what would her mom think. But between the Alcohol and her hot blonde roommate, she decides against her better judgment.

As soon as her feet leaves the balcony, adrenaline courses through her veins as she feels pressure leaving her body. Just as soon as she falls her body is consumed with the freezing cold water below.

Azzi opens her eyes to the burn of the chlorine and stream of bubbles that surround her. As soon as she surfaces, Paige grabs her, pulling their bodies way too close.

“What did you think” Paige asked, waiting for the brunette’s approval.

“Evina thinks I am crazy for doing it but it feels like, just for a moment, all of my problems are gone”

“That was amazing” Azzi giggled, still trying to take everything in “Caroline would freak if she saw what I just did”

As if she were an urban myth, who appeared when her name was muttered, Caroline shriek was heard throughout the whole party.

“Azzi, What the hell” Caroline yelled as she attempted to pull the her out of the pool. “It’s time to go”

“I am in trouble now” Azzi muttered, clearly drunk out of her mind, towards a concerned Paige.

“What about step three” Paige asked, as Caroline tried to wrap a towel over the other girl.

“ You can show me another time Paigey” Azzi called out, deciding this was the perfect time for them to use nicknames

“Okay, Az” Paige called back as she watched the younger girl be guided into the house.

———

“When I told you to have fun tonight, I didn’t mean for you to jump off of a balcony” Caroline reprimanded as she watch the two other girls tear into their pancakes.

The trio didn’t leave the party until 2 in the morning. Between finding dry clothes for Azzi and pulling Ines from her group, Caroline was drained.

“I was having so much fun” Azzi cried as she sulked into the booth “You didn’t have to cockblock me”

“If by cockblock you mean making sure you made it home tonight and didn’t do something you would regret with your roommate that you hate, then yes, I am the biggest cockblocker” Caroline declared as she took a sip from her water

“She is not even that bad” Azzi added on. “What happened to your date”

“It was great until he threw his whole beer everywhere after losing in beer pong, I was pretty much icked out after that” Caroline grimaced as she reminisced. “How about you Ines?”

“I have a coffee date, tomorrow” Ines proclaimed proudly.

“That’s my girl” Caroline said as she wrapped her arms around the smaller girl.

As Azzi watches the other two girls talk about their party experience, she couldn’t help but to think about why she couldn’t get the football player out of her head and how she will never know the third step to a great UConn party.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #paige x azzi #uconn wbb #pazzi fics #women’s basketball #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #pazzi #paige bueckers uconn #uconn huskies #paige buckets

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romanofftherealest · 15 hours ago

Text

Good Luck, Babe

Chapter 9: Curtain Call | 5.3k

Summary: Changes in breathing patterns, reduced vital signs, altered skin color and temperature, and decreased consciousness. These are the signs your loved one feels when you're about to lose them.

But those are the things that you feel when you are losing someone you love.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: +18 angst, divorce

Author's Note: I was told to ask y'all what you wanna see after this chapter...

⧗

"Are they here yet?"

Natasha's heart was racing and so is she in the foyer, her eyes constantly darting towards the door. She couldn't remember the last time she was this nervous. Probably after the last time she saw you, but at that moment she was hysterical, so definitely not nervous.

"Natasha, calm down." Yelena's words snapped Natasha back to reality. "Fix yourself, you got this."

It had been days since that nightmare encounter. 5 nights of Natasha tossing and turning in bed, 4 days of uncontrollable crying spells, 4 days and 5 nights of not having to drink even though she badly wanted to—no, needed just for herself to sleep hoping to forget the look on your face that day.

She has been a wreck since, completely lost without you. And she will not deny that anymore.

And today, she is going to see you…

Natasha walked her way to the backyard, the main venue of the event. She has been staring at her phone, specifically on your contact that says Wife❤ Natasha didn't remove it nor did she replace the wallpaper. And Yelena caught her once again in the act when she tried catching up on her speed walking.

"Don't Natasha, we talked already."

Oh, yes, the talk where Yelena actually did not just talk but also showed her sister some…tough love—literal tough love.

Natasha had never called you, but when she did, she called non-stop, clicking the green phone icon like a damn stalker. First was the day you were with some friend for some drink, and the next one was that very night you ran away where Natasha did nothing but drink and click the call button of your contact on her phone until she passed out.

And right now, the urge to add more to that 86 calls that you missed from her is very tempting. Each one a silent scream for attention and apology, each missed call piercing through Natasha's desperate longing and her inability to cope without you.

You, you, you!

Every thought, every dream, every nightmare was consumed by you. She couldn't think straight without you. She couldn't sleep without imagining you. She couldn't eat without remembering your taste.

You were everything.

You, you, you…

Only you.

"Sestra." Yelena, noticing her sister in deep thought, fished her out of it. "You'll be fine."

You had called everything off, the catering was canceled, delivery for decorations too—the party in whole. And Yelena had to convince you not to because Natasha practically begged her to talk to you and it's definitely not because it will only be the chance she will finally see you and Aliah both, well, maybe.

Natasha looked around the backyard, her eyes scanning the pink and purple balloons, glittery princess cutouts, the catering, and the giant castle she stayed up all night building proudly standing at the center of the garden. This was all your plan and this party was supposed to be cooperated by you and Natasha but due to some unfortunate circumstances which she had taken as her fault, she executed it alone and she had no problem with that.

She had wanted everything perfect for Aliah's birthday party because it is going to be the first time she will celebrate it with her, with you.

With your whole family.

She went back inside the manor to see her reflection staring back at her. She had been checking and re-checking her appearance for what felt like hours. She was getting out to check the venue and coming back inside the house to check herself. She was wearing a king costume looking handsome and beautiful at the same time. The gold brocade jacket hugged her curves, and the white breeches and boots completed the look. She turned this way and that, making sure nothing is wrong with her—she relentlessly fixed herself.

Because she wants you to see her fixed, put together, not drunk or hysterical—not a mess like what she has been with you.

And as the minutes ticked by, Natasha found herself becoming more and more restless. She had started walking around again. The fake sword she had strapped to her waist, swinging as she circled like a caged lion. She sees Yelena, who is dressed in a knight costume, welcoming each parent and kids that were arriving at the manor. Couldn't bear overthinking, she walks over to her to ask her for the 6th time again if you're really coming over.

"They'll be here soon. Rick called, he already picked them up." Yelena said, Natasha hasn't even uttered a word yet. She now pulled Natasha aside, her expression turning serious as she began briefing her on the plan for the party, again. "Slushat'," (listen) she started, pointing a finger at Natasha, "You're going to behave today. Once they're here, I will give you Aliah and you will help her get dressed. The gown…"

"Is already in her room, I know." Natasha finishes.

"And I will assist Y/N with hers. Got it?" Yelena says as she looks intently at her sister.

"Got it." Natasha nods.

"And Nat, give Y/N a space. Okay? I think it's better to wait for her this time. You can make small conversations and I know you'll know when she's off and once you feel that, you know what to do."

"Yeah, this day is about Aliah."

"Good, behave. Okay?"

"C'mon, do I look like I am going to cause some chaos?" she pushed herself away from her younger sister, she doesn't like the feeling of being reminded to behave like she's a toddler.

"Oh please," the knight rolls her eyes, "Do you really want me to remind you?"

Natasha's jaw clenched, "Not today," she murmured under her breath like she almost just said it to herself. She actually doesn't need to get reminded of it because what she did was already ingrained in every corner of her mind, that even when she sleeps it never fails to bring her nightmares.

Yelena watches her sister take a deep breath, seeing the unspoken guilt in her eyes—today is not the day to bring up bad memories so now she feels guilty too. And to ease the guilt she immediately changed the supposed to be memories she was about to bring up. "No, no, no, I mean with that look? You will definitely cause some chaos, king."

"Can we just remove the sword, it's…it's intimidating and exaggerated." Natasha clears her throat while she adjusts the brocade that's making her sweat already.

"I have the same and I ain't saying a damn word. Just be grateful you're not getting a face lift with an iron helmet!"

"You two."

"Mama?! Kak dolgo vy zdes'?" (How long have you been here?) Melina smiles as Yelena runs over to her and kisses her cheek.

"Not too long, dear. Just enough time to watch you two banter." She pats Yelena's arm affectionately. "Go get Y/N. They're here now."

"They're here? I thought Rick…" Yelena's eyes widen in shock but stops when Melina simply nods at her with a knowing smile, silently urging her daughter to go get you without further explanation.

Natasha had rehearsed her words countless times before this very moment, knowing exactly what she would say to you and Aliah. She had imagined about every scenario and how to handle them—she thought.

But not with her mother.

"Kak vy?" (How are you?) Melina didn't ask her anything. She didn't confront her about the things she figured out her daughter did nor her side of the story. What she just wants to know is how she's doing, if her daughter is okay.

"Pytayus' byt' luchshe." (Trying to be better) Natasha's lips quivered, she finally eyed her mother and tried her best to smile and not let that damn tear that is threatening to fall from her eyes.

"Vse budet khorosho." (Everything will be fine)

It's a phrase she's heard a million times before, it was a simple statement becoming overused and plain overtime. But hearing it right now from her mother made her heart feel some different kind of pain and comfort.

"Yelena's probably with Aliah, go."

Natasha nods, feeling a lump form in her throat. But she cannot cry right now, well, not yet, so she just kisses her mother before going.

The walk to her daughter's room is quiet, but her heart is pounding loud in her chest. Just as she was outside, Yelena exited the room. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the moment she has been both dreading and longing for.

"She's there already, I told her to wait for you." Yelena said as she pointed at the door behind her, she wanted to remind her once again to behave but chose not to. So she just gave her sister a pat of support. "Go."

Natasha breathes before opening. And her now four years old is already standing by the door, waiting for her. Natasha immediately lowered herself to her knees, and wrapped her arms around Aliah's tiny form, pulling her close.

It feels like forever.

"Happy birthday, Princess Aliahnovna Franceska Romanoff," she swallows hard to hold back her sobs, instead letting out a groan as she lifts Aliah into her arms.

"I missed you, mama." Was the first thing Aliah said, the way she said it was with pure genuineness but her voice was so small like she's not sure if she's supposed to say it. Natasha knows her daughter too, she's giddy and jolly, and right now Aliah is lacking those.

And Natasha doesn't know why.

"Princess, mama missed you too. I missed you so, so much." Her voice cracks slightly.

"But you don't love me any'ore."

Now, she knows.

Natasha was in pure disbelief and her heart ached at the pain of that statement. She immediately brings her down and kneels in front of her, gently cupping her small face in her hands and there she sees the pain in her daughter's eyes.

"That's not true," Natasha carefully says, trying her best not to sound offended. "Of course I love you, more than anything in the world. W-why would you say that?"

"But you don't love mommy any'ore, so that means you don't love me too."

Now, she knows.

Natasha shook her head, frowning to hold her tears back and it's getting really harder this time. "That's...that's not true baby," she managed to say, her voice cracking. "I love mommy. I love mommy as much as I love you. I love you both." Her voice grew more desperate as she tried to defend herself—defend her love for you.

She thought she had imagined all the possible scenarios, she thought she was ready but it seems like you really don't know what to expect.

"You not gonna make mommy cry? Mommy cry a lot, mean people make mommy cry. I don't want her to cry any'ore." She pouts, crocodile tears in her little eyes. "You're big mama, you can portect mommy so she will not cry."

"Not gonna make mommy cry." Natasha repeated as if she's on oath.

"You not hurt mommy."

"I will not hurt mommy."

"You are mean to mommy, she cries." Although Aliah isn't crying, the hurt is something you wouldn't miss in her tiny voice. It's not the usual hurt of a little girl who's upset because she didn't get a toy or something she wants. This hurt goes deeper.

"And I am sorry." Natasha couldn't face her daughter anymore. "I am sorry."

"You hurt mommy." That overwhelming wave of shame is hitting her really bad.

"Y-yes, I…I know. I'm sorry, baby." Natasha nods, a tear now falling down to her lap.

"You promised." Her little girl is stating facts like an adult. The fact that Natasha might be the first person to break a promise on her daughter's life made her guilty even more.

Then suddenly, Aliah's tiny arms wrap around her neck, her little face pressing into the crook of Natasha's neck. She is frozen, stunned by her daughter's sudden gesture. She doesn't dare move, afraid that any sudden motion might pull her little girl away. Natasha couldn't help it anymore, she breaks down completely, burying herself in Aliah's small body like it's the only thing keeping her alive.

Aliah pulls back slightly, her small hands cupping her mama's face gently. Her tiny fingers wipe away her mother's tears with a tenderness that belies her age. She looks into Natasha's eyes with such love, and understanding. And there is a look of pain in her innocent eyes that breaks Natasha's heart all over again.

At Aliah's age, she should be out playing, learning about the world, and finding joy in discovery. Instead, she is here, confronting her mother about something that she did—about something she wants to know but wouldn't understand. Exposed with no young child should have to face. And Natasha felt responsible for it.

"Mama...I don't want you cry too."

⧗

Glancing in the mirror, you couldn't help but force a smile at the sight of yourself donning a queen costume. Yelena was behind you, grinning through your shoulders.

"I think it's a bit…exaggerating?" you say carefully.

"Ouch."

Okay, maybe that was not careful at all. Dressing up as a queen was not a part of your initial plan for Aliah's birthday and you knew it was Yelena's added plan, well, she could be extra at times.

"You know, that's what Natasha said too." Yelena snorts.

She was not careful there too.

You dodged Yelena's comment about Natasha, instead shifting the focus to the dress. "I just don't want to get attention with the dress." It was something straight out of a fairy tale—a flowing silk dress in a shimmering shade of green and a delicate pearl headband that matched it.

"Oh c'mon, it's you who's overreacting. It's simple but elegant!" She tries to convince you when she sees you slightly doubting the whole look.

"Can I be like…you?" you slid your palms in the lengths of the fabric of the dress, clearly uncomfortable. "Or like be a maid or something?"

"Definitely no—"

"Is that a castle?" you ask in rush disbelief, when you get the view of the party in the garden and some kids playing around.

"Oh yeah, Natasha did that overnight." Yelena's words hang in the air, a casual yet powerful endorsement of Natasha's efforts—backing her sister up.

Despite everything she's done—despite the pain she caused—you can't deny that she will always be brought up to you. That is something you have no mastery to shut out. But you have conditioned yourself and put things aside for now because you know avoiding her today would be just impossible.

Today isn't about you or Natasha or whatever drama that is going on between you two; it's about your daughter.

An announcement from the host was heard from where you're from that the event was about to start.

"Your Highness, I think that's our cue." The knight said with a smirk.

"Okay, now you're really exaggerating." You covered your face with your hands, the teasing and attention Yelena is giving you is making you embarrassed already.

"C'mon before I make you a stable girl."

At this point, you'd rather be a stable girl.

Yelena separated ways with you, telling you she needs to check on something so you continued on your fast walking. You were nervous, a bit shy—embarrassed but you don't care now, for Aliah you will do anything.

As you walked through the living room overseeing the venue, a familiar blonde bumped into you and it wasn't Yelena.

"Oh, sh—" the blonde stopped at her tracks when she was able to take a good look at whoever the medieval queen she just bumped into, "My Highness, apologies."

"Carol?! Oh guh-please, stop." You almost whined in embarrassment, once again covering your face—you let out a muffled cry as you did.

Then, you felt Carol's hands grip your wrists softly so she could take them away from your face. But your arms remained ironed, you just moved your fingers to uncover your eyes and peeked at her.

"You're pretty, c'mon."

Natasha watched everything until the blonde completely disappeared. The sight of you with someone whom she considered a threat only reinforced the guilt she felt for her actions when she cheated on you. She doesn't even know if she had a right to feel that way, but she couldn't help it. What she did to you is just haunting her down, and she knew it was a thousand times worse than what she is witnessing right now.

"Mama, c'mon. Mommy's there." Natasha had been so engrossed in watching you that she hadn't even noticed Aliah tugging her exaggerating costume.

The birthday girl practically dragged Natasha towards your direction.

Your face lit up with joy as you spotted Aliah approaching you. You knelt down, your eyes brimming with affection.

"Baby!" you exclaimed, opening your arms wide to hug her. Aliah giggled and ran into your embrace, her little hands encircling your neck as she snuggled into you. "Oh, look at you," your voice slightly shaky, taking the sight of your daughter who is dressed up like a real princess—which she really is. "My baby, my princess, my everything please don't grow older."

"Mommy, mama will give you something." Your daughter removed herself from your embrace and took your hand, guiding you to stand while her other hand pulled Natasha towards you.

"O-oh…okay."

Natasha's heart races as she holds your gaze. For a moment, everything else fades away—the party, the thick fabric that she is wearing that is making her sweat really bad, and even her own daughter that is between.

For a moment all that exists is you standing before her.

"For you," Natasha nearly cracked her voice, but hell, she didn't stutter. "You're really beautiful."

"Thank you."

Your smile is like a double-edged sword, beautiful but painful as you carefully took the small paper rose from her hand. You're not cold or distant, Natasha thought. You're not ignoring her either, but rather treating her with the same polite detachment as everyone else. As if she was just a duty you're supposed to make—a duty for your daughter's sake.

The smile didn't reach your eyes like it always did before and she cannot see what's in there anymore, not clearly. The distance between you feels both too close and not close enough. She wants to touch your cheek, to pull you closer, but she's terrified of what she might find there.

"Hi, royal fam." The host greets with a wide smile and you quickly shift your focus from Natasha to the woman. "So, we will introduce Aliah in a minute and then my partner will give the cue when to make the entrance with her. Okay?"

"Okay, yeah. Sure, sure." You say cooperatively while Natasha didn't listen at all, she was just looking at you…

Like a dandelion, slowly disappearing from her reach.

⧗

Changes in breathing patterns, reduced vital signs, altered skin color and temperature, and decreased consciousness. These are the signs your loved one feels when you're about to lose them.

But those are the things that you feel when you are losing someone you love.

Natasha stood slightly apart, the party had come to an end, with the festivities winding down gradually. She watched as you bid goodbye to each child, a gentle smile on your face as you handed them the small trinkets and treats.

The sight of you with Aliah, a warm smile on your face while your little one giggled, hugging her friends for the last time.

This is the beautiful family she had destroyed.

"Hey," Yelena placed a comforting hand on her sister's shoulder, noticing her once again in deep thought. "We already brought every gift to Aliah's room. Mom already left too."

"Oh, yeah sure. Thanks." Natasha clears her throat.

"You good?" Yelena asks as she finally sees the view her sister has been looking at—you and Aliah.

"Nervous." The word is understatement, Natasha is scared.

"You two gonna talk?"

Natasha nodded, her expression serious. "If she wants to talk," she said quietly.

Yelena gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Well, good luck, Nat," she said. "Please, fix it this time. I don't want to have to pick up before your mess again."

"I'm sorry." Natasha let out a weary sigh.

Yelena chuckled softly in response. "C'mon," she said, gently punching her sister on the shoulder, a huge difference from the punch she did to her last time. "That's what siblings do. We try to almost kill each other when we think the other is being an idiot..." she trails off and eyed her sister comfortingly, "but we never leave each other."

Natasha looks down to her boots, the corner of her mouth lifting up in a half-smile. "Thanks," she said, finally meeting her sister's smile.

Yelena has always been the one to step in and save Natasha from her own impulsive decisions, whether it's stopping her from causing further damage in her marriage or preventing her from completely embarrassing herself. She has always been the voice of reason in her sister's life, she never tolerated her but she never failed to offer guidance and support when she thinks she needs it. Especially now, Natasha being so desperate to see you and have this party for Aliah, without Yelena, this whole thing wouldn't be successfully done.

Before she can even say more to Yelena, she saw you and Aliah walk in her direction, all her friends are now gone home. She glanced to her side, expecting to find her sister. But much to her surprise, she was nowhere to be seen.

What happened to the we're never going to leave each other?

Aliah, who has a sleepy expression on her face—yawns every chance she gets, eyes drooping slightly as she stares off into space while hand in hand with you. Her little arms now stretch out towards her mama, Natasha knowing exactly what her daughter needs, immediately runs and scoops her up into a warm embrace.

"Who's my sleepy princess?" Natasha asks. Aliah snuggles against her neck, letting out a contented sigh as she nestles in.

"Mommy." Your little one slurs while her tiny finger pointed at you, you made an offended look that made your daughter giggle slightly. "Mommy's sleepy."

"Sure, my love." You carefully removed her tiny crown and smoothed her hair back before placing a kiss on her forehead. And with that, she's hit the sack.

Natasha placed her gently onto the soft bed, you decided not to change her clothes afraid that any move will ruin her sleep. You silently watched as Natasha tucked her in then looked around your daughter's room that is surrounded by the mountainous kingdom of presents waiting for her the moment she wakes up.

When Aliah is finally settled, Natasha placed a kiss on her forehead, the same area you had kiss your daughter. She stood and turned to face you, and for a moment, you both stood there in silence. Your gazes remained fixed ahead, neither of you daring to look at each other directly. But your bodies seemed to betray your emotions, subconsciously turning towards each other as if waiting for something to happen.

What now?

"Natasha, can we talk?"

Her heart races at the sound of her name on your lips, a name she hasn't heard in a while.

"S-sure yeah." Natasha was nervous, she was scared but her eyes are shining with a familiar obedience and willingness to please you.

That she will do everything, anything just to make things right.

She holds the door open for you, her eyes never leaving your face. Once you step inside, she closes the door behind you softly. The office is indeed unfamiliar territory for you; it's a space she's kept private until now. Natasha will never bring you to her old one, the place where she always caught herself in between a mess.

The two of you stood away from each other, the costumes of the earlier party of your daughter still clinging on your bodies making it a bit awkward.

"Here, sit," Natasha quickly walked towards the couch, she even offered her hand to which you declined. She's overly attentive, almost nervous…and desperate. "Do you want some drinks? Or juice? Come, sit, you must be tired in that dress."

"I'm fine." Natasha's face falls slightly at your short response, but she quickly masks it with a smile. "How have you been?"

Natasha blinks slowly to your sudden question as if it has stirred something deep within her. Her eyes glisten slightly, and she takes a moment before responding. "I was...a mess," she admitted, blinking again to keep any tears at bay. She looks down briefly before meeting your gaze once more. "I'm so sorry," she now said, finally addressing the elephant in the room.

You nod silently, your eyes starting to water as well but you did not say anything.

Then there is a flicker of something in your eyes that Natasha can't quite place—longing? Hurt? It confuses her but you are definitely not angry. And the absence of any anger or disappointment in your eyes seemed to hurt her more than if you had shown what you truly felt. It was like a cruel reminder of how she had pushed you away, and now she couldn't even tell if there was still any love left in you.

She takes a deep breath before starting again, "I...I just want to make things clear that nothing happened between me and that woman you saw that day. I promise you, nothing." She emphasizes each word carefully. Her voice shakes with emotion as she looks into your eyes pleadingly.

And you nodded again, you believed it, tracing no lies in her words. "But what about the days...or weeks before that? Did something happen between you two?" you didn't need to ask but you just had to confirm your suspicions—you still have that right.

The woman in front of you drops her head down as she nods, confirming everything you've been crazy about. "Yes. The last time was in...in my office. Long time now." Her voice full of genuine shame and guilt.

Now you wish you hadn't asked. The thing you saw that night in her office...and the things that happened between the two of you after that, the things you let her do to you are still burning freshly in your memories.

"Wow, long time." The words tasted like copper in your tongue. A single tear finally escapes down your cheek when the reality of her confession sinks in. You were quick to wipe it away. You hated the fact that she said it's been a long time now, she still cheated on you. No matter how many seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years—she still betrayed you. And yet she's here saying it like she's trying to downplay what she did since it's been a long time now.

"I...I am sorry I didn't mean it that way. I promise..." Natasha tried to consider her words now. "that meant nothing b-but still it was wrong, Y/N. And I am sorry, it will never happen anymore."

You nodded, again.

"I want a divorce."

Natasha thought she had imagined all the possible scenarios, she thought she was ready but it seems like you really don't know what to expect.

She freezes at your words, it was heavy and final—you sounded so sure. She doesn't move, doesn't breathe for several heartbeats. It was now her turn not to speak, not that she doesn't want to because if anything, she wanted to speak, to shout, to cry, to beg—anything. But nothing. It's like someone stole her voice. Her shoulders stiffen as she swallows hard. She won't look at you. She can't.

Not when you're really slowly drifting away.

"Those things that I said the last time, they're true. I wasn't lying." You deepened your frown to fight the tears back, "And even now, I still love you, it has always been you and it's still you. And I think it will probably always be you. But sometimes..." you feel your chest constricts with your every word. "I couldn't tell if you're closer to me or you're out of reach again. I did my best to understand where it's all coming from, because I hurt you and I was willing to take it all. But..." you paused, swallowing a sob, then a painful chuckle emitted from you, "it's making me crazy. I was losing myself. One minute you're letting me in, I thought we're okay and then when I blink you're pushing me away again like...like I'm the thing you hated the most." You wiped the tears that started to fall shamelessly on your cheek. "It's just so hard having you in between, Natasha. I feel sorry for myself, I'm getting tired."

Shared sobs filled the room.

"I thought if I let things be, if I let you do whatever you wanted to do even though it was killing me—it will save us. When I tried doing everything I thought it will fix us. But how do you fix something that keeps breaking itself? Something that doesn't want to be fixed?" your swollen eyes search hers intensely, painfully. "Never in my whole life did I think you were hard to love, Natasha. Just..." you gasp for air, voice strained.

"Just now."

Natasha thought she had herself together, collected. But now she's falling apart again—she is a mess again.

"I-I'm so sorry, Y/N…" Natasha is out of breath now, pleading with you through her tears. "Please..." she doesn't even know what she's begging for anymore.

You took a step back and Natasha didn't like that at all, all the distance you were putting.

"Maybe our time has really gone by. We had such beautiful time before but I'll admit, I wish it was under different circumstances—"

"No."

She doesn't wanna hear what you're about to say next. She doesn't like where this is going. But still, you continued and rephrased each word in your mind, despite everything you're still being careful not to hurt her, but the new careful words didn't do anything to sting less.

"We're going to keep hurting each other like this."

The way you said it feels like you've been pondering this for ages with your already made up mind. You sounded so resolute as if you've been sitting there, in the dark, staring at the ceiling, repeating these words in your head until they've become a part of you.

And Natasha didn't like it at all.

"Y/N—"

You clear your throat that made her stop, maybe you didn't want her to have at least a damn millisecond to talk, not even a word because if she did you're afraid you're going to lose it again—it will make you crazy again. So what needs to be said and done should be said and done. You wiped the trail of wet tears from your cheek and composed yourself again.

"I will let you have Aliah's full custody." Your heart aches as you say those words, but you know it's for the best. "I just don't want us to get dirty."

Without warning, the woman in front of you drops to her knees in front of you. Her hands wrapped your legs desperately as she pressed her forehead against your stomach. A choked sob escapes her throat. "No, please...don't leave me. I can't do it without you." Her voice cracks with emotion and desperation. "Please...please I'll make it right, baby."

You had expected this to happen, you've seen it. Her doing something that will make you crumble, just like you always do. She knows your weakness—seeing her like this—and she's playing it perfectly. The last time it was you begging like this, it was you who was a sobbing mess. You were the one desperate for a chance, a chance to make things right.

All of these felt familiar to you.

Her grip tightens, making it nearly impossible for you to escape when you try to wiggle your body around her.

"No," Natasha mutters, her voice dropping dangerously low. "Don't, don't. Please…" Her arms are like steel bands around your waist. You try to unravel them gently, but she refuses to let go. "Baby, baby, baby..." she cried.

"Natasha." You tried again, pushing her by the shoulders this time but she only rushed to put her head back to your stomach as if trying to burrow into your warmth.

"It's Natty…" from hating you say it, now she's begging you to call her that again. "T-tell me what to do. Tell me baby. Please, Y/N…please."

Now you stopped pulling away from her. You stopped fighting. You didn't move. You didn't push her away. Instead your hands went to caress her shoulders and there you felt her body shaking. You gently run your fingers through the back of her head with such tenderness Natasha has been yearning for. Then, slowly and carefully you tried untangling her arms that is tight around you.

"Please, Natty. Let me go."

She said she will do everything—anything to make it right.

But to let you go?

That doesn't seem right.

Good Luck, Babe: Masterlist

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader

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a-bad-case-of-the-stephs · 1 day ago

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Out of all the stuff Steph says and does towards the end of Robin 1993 that signals that her core characteristics have been totally perverted and that she has a character has been fundamentally broken post War Games- (participating in a Batman Mindgame™️ against Tim, allying with multiple villains, going to Batman to ask his permission to operate as Spoiler etc etc) I think you can really see it so clearly in just her lines here alone:

Steph is a character driven by love. Love and anger, to be completely fair, but still at her core love. And unlike Batman it’s not really this all encompassing love for Gotham or its people, it’s not a catch-all feeling, Steph’s love is targeted and intense, just like her anger. It’s so very human. It’s not idealistic and broad, it’s specific. She loves her mom, she’s angry at her mom. She hates her dad, she’s angry at her dad. When she loves someone she’s there for them, she has to protect them. Her relationship with Crystal, no matter how complex, is based on Steph loving her mom so much that it drove her to reassure her, to take care of her, to pick fights with her, to make her breakfast, to sew together fabric in the middle of the night Crystal a few feet away passed out and drunk, to create Spoiler in the first place.

Steph’s relationship with Tim is also defined by her love. Honestly this feels so obvious I don’t think I even need to elaborate on it much. Attaching an applicable panel below anyway.

Point being so much of who Steph is is her love for other characters. What motivates her can be by a large part found in that love. What causes her to become a vigilante in the first place was love.

But now? After everything? Steph isn’t a vigilante out of love anymore. Her loyalty to Tim - so strong that she had no qualms at all calling out Batman and jeopardizing her just earned place on the team immediately after getting hired, twice, is gone, or at the very least diminished. Likewise, Steph’s willingness to defy Batman, another staple of her early character, which meant she was always willing to push away and set out on her own after she’s told time and time again to quit, the same assuredness that allowed her to tell Batman to go to hell, point blank, is gone. She goes to Batman and asks if she’s allowed to fight crime, and she agrees to a plan she in no world would have participated in before her death. Her first traits that cause her to be a vigilante, her love, and the traits that very early on allow her to push on and keep being a vigilante, her determination and doggedness and willingness to stand up and disagree with Batman, are gone.

Like we see this transformation on page. Think about the massive difference between her reaction to her first firing where she, despite the cold cruelty of the rejection, is pretty much immediately able to understand the situation and she reacts with understandable anger, and she immediately confronts Batman with that anger. But by the time she’s fired as Robin she’s much more broken down, she reacts to her firing with just dejection. She doesn’t try to fight back or get a final cruel word in. At this point, being a vigilante has started to become much more about earning Batman’s never winnable respect and trust. And then she tries again, and then she dies, and then she spends a year on another continent, and then she goes back home.

And here, in her journal, she thinks to herself ‘what’s love got to do with it anymore?’. She is not who she was. She is not doing this for the reasons she was a vigilante before. The thing that got her in a costume and on a roof in the first place, this huge factor in how Steph interacted with her world, just has nothing to do with anything anymore. She’s broken.

#who up thinking about the character #stephanie brown #mine

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shadow211e · 2 days ago

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Rise of the Goth

Victoria had been having issues at school, really she had been having issues since she was a kid, always feeling out of place. Not fitting in where others would easily be apart of a crowd. Sure she knew that was high school but now in college it almost felt like the same thing. She attended one of the states largest schools, it had a huge campus, over 25k students attending, so she had to feel like something was there for her. And she thought she had found it, she started in a few clubs, met some really amazing people, and even started to date this nice guy. They were happy for 4 months, the longest she had ever been with someone. And until a week ago that was the best thing for her. Then her former bully from school, Amber had started to seem to be circling around her more. She noticed Amber on her way to classes, hanging around dorms and she had no clue why. Until one afternoon she was walking out of class and saw Amber making out with a guy, it was more than making out, Amber was straddling the guy on a bench and kissing him, it was so close to being lewd. Then she noticed his shirt, it was a shirt she had bought her boyfriend, then Amber flipped her hair back and she saw him, her boyfriend happily cupping Amber's tits and looking up at her with the goofy grin. Victoria screamed, Josh looked over in a shock, he pushed Amber to the side, stumbling to get to her, he was trying to explain, trying to tell her it wasn't what she thought. Josh was followed by Amber who pulled out her phone to show a weeks worth of pictures of her and Josh. Victoria started to put things together. She screamed again and stormed off. There was a laughter that just lingered in Victoria's head, the laughter of Amber, the bitchy, spoil, self centered laughter and it burned into her. 2 days she ghosted calls from Josh, she never wanted to hear his voice again, never wanted to see his face, or feel his touch. She hated him, she hated him for giving into the blonde menace. And she wanted revenge on her. She felt anger, she felt hate, and until she could calm down it boiled inside her. Another 2 days and Josh finally got the hint, he stopped calling, he unfriended her on all socials. Victoria could only sit and watch as her world started to fall apart. She had what she thought was everything and now she had nothing. Then the dreams started. The first night of dreams it was just blackness. The second night, was blackness but she felt like something was moving around her. She woke up in a cold sweat. Night three, she heard laughter around her, walking around her, stalking her. She screamed into the darkness and whatever it was laughed back more. Night four, she felt nothing, she was alone in the dark. Night five, she felt the presence again. Night six, she could feel something touch her but she turned to look and it was gone. Night seven, was when she saw something emerge from the dark.

"What are you?" The voice was weird, like someone talking in water, "I am desire, I am darkness, I am here to help, if you wish it." "Why would you help me?" "Why wouldn't I? You are hurt, you are in pain, and I can help ease your pain and suffering." "How would you do that?" "I'd give you the means to help yourself, to transfer that pain to someone else." "I wouldn't wanna do that. No one deserves to be hurt. Can't you just take the pain away?" "Like energy or matter, it can not be destroyed it can be changed or exchanged." Victoria was listening but not really understanding, she tried to follow along but said "I guess." "Who hurt you?" "My boyfriend, that slut Amber." "And what if I could help you hurt your boyfriend, and make Amber never be able to hurt you again?" She bit her lip, thinking about this, she could feel her heart racing. "Has this been you the whole time in my dreams?" "Yes and no, my family, they have tried to visit, but only the one of use who could help would be the one you could see," the being said, lying to her of course. But in Victoria's state of sadness and anger she would believe almost anything. "Fine if I let you help me, what will happen?" "You just have to wake up, and you will see some changes in your life and then some more changes over the next day and then we can talk about your ex and your friend." "Amber isn't my friend." "Of course, my mistake, now are we agreed?" "Yes fine." The being reached out to shake her hand, Victoria took it, felt a burning sensation in her palm and gasped as she woke up. The sun was out and she looked around, "what the fuck" she said then heard her voice, it was different, more sultry and alluring. She looked down and noticed her body was different.

Her breasts had grown, and there were tattoos on her arms, her hips were a little wider and she had an ass, not a flat one but actual curves. It was amazing, she was excited. What she should have been was scared at the fact something was able to change her like this. But this wasn't what was on her mind. What was on her mind was revenge. She started think of a plan, she could go after her ex, but Josh would be too easy to ruin, the minute she called, he would come running to talk to her, to apologize. She knew that wouldn't be too much fun. Instead she set her sights on Amber, that would be more of a hunt, something worthwhile and someone who would be torn down to the very ground she thought she owned just for being alive. She had a feeling by tonight she would be ready. Across Campus

Amber was in the sorority house getting ready for another beautiful day. She had blonde hair, big tits and the perfect look for luring men into her grasp. She did it all through high school and even more in college. She had 3 different boyfriends, all who would give her anything she wanted just because she hot and they could be around one of the hottest girls on campus. Of course they didn't know she was dating other guys, some of the sorority sisters knew of course but to them they thought it was funny how easily Amber could control men. She rolled over in her bed, and texted each of the guys, telling them she was awake, telling them she wanted to go shopping today to buy some surprise naughty stuff for their upcoming dates. Each one sent her at least 100 bucks, because that's what she asked for. Josh sent her 150 because he was the newest guy she was seeing and he was trying to make her want him, he was worried after his last girlfriend and him broke up that Amber was going to dump him too, so he sent more to make sure she was staying with him. Amber laughed at all these boys sending money. She got out of bed and started to get ready to go shopping, she wasn't spending her money of course, which made it so much more fun. Across Campus

Hours later and Victoria was feeling herself changing more. It was thrilling, she was becoming hotter, and felt like she was becoming more powerful as well. She moved in front of the mirror and smirked at her new look.

She found her clothes changed, new tattoos formed and everything just gave her a new look on life. Victoria that girl who was walked all over was gone. Vicki was here to stay. She felt this weird sense of knowledge in her mind, that Amber was leaving to go to the mall, she also seemed to know Josh was at his dorm hard at work. She licked her lips, a trip to the mall was in order. Her prey was going to be there. At the mall, Vicki could sense Amber now, she was close. It only took her a few minutes to start to shadow her. Walking through the halls, no one seemed to notice the hot gothic chick stalking this bubbly sorority slut. All eyes were on Amber of course. Rage filled Vicki and she knew the time to strike was now. Amber was walking into a dressing room, Vicki moved in behind her, pushing her against the wall. "What the fuck, you bitch get off me." Vicki's eyes blackened for a second, "No, you're mine," and leaned in and kissed Amber. Vicki felt Amber fight back against the kiss for about a second or two before she started to kiss back. Amber moaned as Vicki moved back and smiled. "Who are you?" Amber asked, feeling light headed, looking at the woman who forced her into a kiss. Vicki smiled, something wicked in her heart and she stared "I am your new mistress, you can fight it, but in a few days you will be all mine." "Fuck you," she said but there was no real feeling behind it, Amber couldn't seem to put the normal strong emotion behind the yell. She pushed past the gothic girl and ran out to her car to head back to the sorority. Amber couldn't stop thinking of the girl, she didn't even know the chick's name, she wanted to call the cops, wanted to claim assault but would anyone believe it? She was so upset she cancelled her date with Derek, and texted the other 2 guys that she wasn't feeling that well and that she would be turning in early and not to text her until she texted them back. She talked to the sisters in the group chat, saying she was feeling ill and wouldn't be able to do her mandatory chores tonight and maybe tomorrow but she would take over for another girl if they were willing to swap for a few days. A couple girls agreed and Amber rolled over into a deep sleep for the night. The next day Amber woke up in a sweat, the goth girl kissing her, just played over and over in her mind. She went over to find some meds to help her relax when she saw herself in the mirror.

Amber was shocked. Tattoos, dark hair, what the fuck was happening to her. This wasn't who she was. She brought her fingers up to her lips, touching them as she kept thinking about the kiss, and noticed her nails were black too. She wanted to scream, wanted to yell but something in her mind kept saying she was Mistress's Toy. Amber was even more scared, thoughts of being with another girl were never something she wanted but now thinking of the goth girl was getting her wet. She wanted to be touched, held, kissed by her Mistress.....no she couldn't think like that, she wasn't like that. That wasn't her. She had to stay hidden in her room, away from people, this will go away, or she would have to figure out what was happening to her. She pulled out her laptop and started to look up things. Trying to figure this out. Later that Evening

The music at the club was thumping. The bass was beating through the bodies of all the people on the dance floor. Vicki was dancing but off to the side, she was watching the crowd. She was waiting to see the man she texted earlier. She had texted Josh, telling him she was going to be at the club, which was a shock to him, but she said this was his one chance to talk to her.

Of course she was never going to talk to him, at least not as Victoria, that version of her was gone. What she was going to do was flirt with him, tease him. He wouldn't have any clue who she was. She was going to make him obsessed with her but was never going to let him have her. It wasn't that difficult either, he was like a moth to the flame as soon as she winked at him from the side of the room. There were already a lot guys eyeing her up and down, but when he was winked at, he thought she was into him. She laughed as she kept flirting with other guys knowing how easy it was to break him. It wasn't even going to take her a night. Another wink and Josh had sent her a drink. Another wink and he meekly walked over to talk to her. She walked away with another guy, but kept eye contact like she was showing that she wasn't into the well dressed man. Josh had no clue he was on her hook and that thrilled her even more. After teasing close to a dozen men that night, Vicki headed home, feeling aroused from all the sexual frustration she had caused all these men. She laid in bed, wondering how her real prize was coming. She would know by tomorrow. THE NEXT DAY

Amber woke up the next day, she looked around, and felt out of place in the sorority house. She stood up and got dressed, it was dark out and the room was pitch black. She finally turned on the light and saw her newself. She blinked and had it been a mere 2 hours prior her mind would have still been its former self, now she was merely a toy. She moved to the mirror and took a selfie, and sent it to a number that she seemed to know.

She sent a message. "Mistress, your toy is ready, how do I look?" Vicki got the message, staring at the new gothic beauty. She smiled, "Such a good toy, come to Mistress." Amber got up, walking out the room and out of the sorority house, she knew in her mind and body where to go. It took her about 20 mins to walk there but soon she arrived. Vicki smiled, "You look perfect my dear." "Thank you," she bowed and stepped part Vicki into the house, starting a new life as a toy to be used.

#f2f #magical change #corruption #personality change #bitchification #magic #f2f corruption

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casssmalefantasy · 2 days ago

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NOTHING BUT NET — PAIGE BUECKERS X OC

CHAPTER ONE.

new number, same name

| parings: paige bueckers x tatum rhodes

| synopsis: tatum rhodes has always been that girl. jersey-born, louisville-made, and now... husky. her decision to transfer to uconn for her senior year wasn't taken lightly-but she's ready for a new chapter, and maybe, just maybe, she's ready for whatever tension sparks when she meets paige bueckers for the first time.

| warnings: light cursing, light suggestive banter, lots of basketball referencing, mentions of sweat and college dorm chaos, slow burn setup, first impressions with tension

| word count: 2.3K?

| tags list (comment): none yet

| masterlist • next chapter

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“You think she’s gonna fit in?”

Paige looks up from her phone, a bag of chips tucked between her legs as she leans back into Azzi’s pile of throw pillows. She grabs an another chip, chewing. She’s half-listening, but the question catches.

“Who?”

“Tatum Rhodes.”

Azzi’s cross-legged on the floor in front of her bookshelf, rearranging her books for the third time this week. Color-coded stacks, soft flicker of candles behind her, the whole room humming with warmth and pink edges. Even in summer, Azzi’s dorm feels like a blanket.

“Rhodes from Louisville?” Paige tilts her head. “Point guard, number nine?”

“Was number nine. She’s wearing fourteen now.” Azzi glances up. “Coach said she’s moving in tomorrow.”

Paige puts her phone down. “Oh, her. She went crazy against Tennessee last year, right?”

“Thirty-two points,” Azzi says, lips curving. “Six threes.”

“Damn,” Paige breathes, low and impressed. “I remember that game. She played like she was mad at the world.”

“Maybe she was.” Azzi smiles, soft but knowing.

Paige leans back further, eyes on the ceiling. She’s quiet for a second, then, “You ever talk to her before?”

“We were mutuals. Met once on her visit, remember? You weren’t around. Few of us grabbed ice cream after practice. She was cool.”

Paige hums. Doesn’t say more, but something lingers behind her eyes. That name. That statline. Thirty-two points. Six threes. The kind of game that said she was someone.

And tomorrow, she’d be theirs.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

Tatum’s been hooping since before she could spell it.

Rec center leagues. Weekend tournaments. Free throws in the driveway with her older sister yelling “Bend your knees!” every Saturday morning. Her dad took her to every open gym in Essex County, watched her grind out hours under flickering gym lights, gloves on, fingers numb in the cold Jersey air.

Basketball was the only thing that made sense. It’s how she made friends. How she got through school. How she learned control.

Louisville gave her everything she thought she wanted—three years, a conference ring, a few deep tourney runs. But after last season, something shifted. Not in her minutes, not in her role. Just in her.

She wanted more. More pressure. More demand. More of a fight.

Geno had called it “The storm you’ve been asking for” when she committed.

And now, standing in the middle of her new dorm apartment, sweat sticking to the back of her neck, duffel bag in hand, Tatum’s starting to believe him.

“This is the last one!” her sister Riley shouts, lugging in the box labeled “posters + kicks.”

“Jesus,” their dad groans behind her, hauling the suitcase. “You moving in or opening a Foot Locker?”

“Don’t start,” Tatum mutters, already tugging her room key from her back pocket.

The door swings open to reveal Azzi, framed in soft lamplight, wearing a hoodie and fuzzy socks. Her room is tucked to the right—walls blushing pink, books stacked in threes, candles on her desk. Warm as hell.

“You made it,” Azzi grins. “And you weren’t lying. You really brought the whole store.”

“Rotation essentials,” Tatum shrugs, stepping past her.

Her own room is darker—blues, purples, shadows layered into corners. A few posters already pinned above her bed: Lauryn Hill, Kendrick, Solange. A vintage photo of Kobe mid-fadeaway. Her sneaker rack lined like an altar.

“You good with the mattress?” Azzi asks, hovering by the door.

“He’s got a system,” Riley deadpans, pointing at their dad.

“Don’t mess with the system,” he echoes, already halfway done.

It doesn’t take long—clothes hung, snacks stashed, posters straightened. When it’s all said and done, there’s a small pause.

“You okay?” Riley asks, quieter now.

Tatum nods. “Yeah. It’s just… weird.”

She doesn’t say what she’s really feeling. Not the part about leaving Louisville. Not the ache in her chest when she saw that team selfie tucked into her nightstand, from just before everything went south. Smiles frozen. Her ex standing too close, her hand on Tatum’s back like she owned it. The girl who sent the receipts on Instagram had DMed her that same night. The kiss. The party. The cheating.

She’d blocked them both by morning.

No one ever knew they were together, not even her closest teammates.

Now, it’s just her.

“You got this,” her dad says, hugging her one-armed.

“Don’t let anyone punk you,” Riley adds, already tearing up.

“Love y’all,” Tatum murmurs. Then they’re gone.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

“Game night,” Azzi announces later that night, knocking on her door. “Paige’s dorm. Mandatory.”

“Mandatory?”

“Yeah. It’s team law.”

Tatum throws on a black hoodie, slips her feet into slides, and trails behind her down the hall. Paige lives across the quad, third floor. The second Azzi opens the door, it’s chaos.

“Ayyy, hey girly poppp!” KK yells, sprawled across the floor with Aubrey, chips scattered like confetti.

“It’s Tatum,” Azzi corrects, rolling her eyes.

“Tatum! Come catch this Uno smoke!” Jana calls.

“You guys are so dramatic,” Morgan a freshman laughs, handing Tatum a soda. “But hey—welcome.”

She doesn’t expect it. The noise. The way everyone’s already a part of something. But then Caroline pulls her into a game and someone hands her a handful of Skittles and before she realizes, she’s got cards in one hand, Pepsi in the other, and she’s laughing.

Paige is holding court on the other side of the room, shoulder to shoulder with Ice and KK, her presence like gravity. Loud. Quick-witted. Everyone listens when she talks. Everyone wants her on their team. She doesn’t try to be the center—she just is.

Tatum watches her from the corner of her eye.

Mid-game, Caroline leans over. “Tatum, didn’t you cook Tennessee last year?”

“Oh yeah,” KK nods. “Career high, right?”

“Thirty-two points,” Paige says casually, glancing up from her hand. Her voice isn’t loud, but Tatum hears it clear.

“You remember that?” Tatum asks.

“I remember players like you.”

And it hits. Not the compliment. The memory. That night. The game, yeah—but also the fight after. The DMs. The heartbreak. Her ex ducking her eyes in the locker room.

Tatum’s smile shifts. Not enough for most to notice.

But Paige does.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

Later, when the games wind down and the room empties, Paige finds her in the kitchen. Tatum’s rinsing her cup in the sink when she hears soft steps.

“You good?” Paige asks.

Tatum doesn’t look back. “Yeah.”

“You dipped for a sec.”

“Just needed air.”

There was a silence between them for a second.

“It was that Tennessee game, right?” Paige asks. Not a question, really.

Tatum dries the cup, slow and measured. “What about it?”

“You shifted. When we brought it up earlier.”

Tatum finally turns. “You’re watching my face that close?”

“Your shoulders,” Paige says. “They dropped. Like you flinched.”

Tatum stiffens. She hadn’t even noticed.

“Damn. Didn’t know you were in the business of analyzing body language.”

“I notice things,” Paige shrugs, leaning against the fridge. “It’s kind of part of the job.”

“Reading people?”

“Reading teammates. Reading the room. Makes the passes easier.”

Tatum folds her arms. “I’m not one of your reads, Paige.”

Paige’s mouth twitches. Not quite a smile.

“Okay. I’ll back off.”

A silence stretches between them. Not cold. Just… cautious.

“You ever have a game that everyone else remembers for the box score,” Tatum says finally, “but you remember for something else entirely?”

Paige nods. “Couple of those.”

“Yeah. That was one of mine.”

She doesn’t say more. Doesn’t need to. And Paige—surprisingly—doesn’t press.

“Your game’s nice, by the way,” Paige says, stepping back toward the door. “Clean footwork. Smooth release.”

“Flattery doesn’t work on me.”

“Noted,” Paige grins. “But it’s not flattery if it’s true.”

The door creaks slightly as she goes, and Tatum’s left in the hush of the kitchen. Heart not racing, but not quite calm either.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

Sarah drops her bag with a thud and kicks off her sneakers like she’s just landed on Earth after a long space mission.

“Wow, I missed this apartment,” she says, flopping onto the couch with a sigh that’s half relief, half exhaustion.

“You barely moved in and you were gone like two and a half weeks,” Azzi says, curling one leg beneath her as she settles next to Sarah.

“And in that time,” Sarah points between them like she’s calling out a crime, “And somehow come back to a new roommate who only exists when there’s food involve.”

Tatum, perched on the counter with a half-finished water bottle, raises an eyebrow. “You just got here. Also harsh first impression.”

“You don’t talk much Azzi said,” Sarah says, blinking like she just realized the truth herself, “But you’re chill. I respect it.“

“Tatum hangs out with me sometimes,” Azzi says, pulling out her phone. “She just doesn’t talk unless it’s worth saying.”

“Exactly,” Tatum deadpans, sliding off the counter. “So… Wingstop or Domino’s?”

“Wait, you paying for it?” Sarah asks, a little too eager.

“Yeah,” Tatum says, opening the food app, “We can call this a roomie night or something.”

They order enough to feed a small team—garlic bread, wings, a box of cheese pizza, and some bread sticks

Tatum’s on aux, Azzi lights two candles and flicks off the main light. Sarah awkwardly places her Team USA medal on the windowsill like it’s a trophy she can’t quite own yet, then sinks back into the cushions.

“So… Team USA?” Azzi asks, chin propped on her hand.

“Intense,” Sarah says, voice dropping like she’s sharing a secret. “Like, good intense. Playing next to girls I only ever watched on highlight reels. Everyone’s tall, fast—blink and someone’s shooting on you.”

“You cook anyone?” Tatum asks, smirking.

Sarah smirks back, but it’s a little shy, a little surprised at herself. “Just a little. Caught one girl slipping, hit her with a spin into a step-through. Got her twice with the same move.

“Gotta pull that move when the season starts,” Azzi teases, nudging Sarah.

“I mean, maybe,” Sarah says, voice cracking just slightly, “Depends on the team.”

Tatum settles deeper into the couch, the warmth between pillows and people making something feel a little easier.

They talk music, food, old basketball games, and Sarah’s sarcasm keeps catching Tatum off guard, making her laugh more than she thought she would.

“Honestly,” Sarah says, looking at Tatum with a half smile, “You’re way cooler than I thought.”

“Oh yeah?” Tatum replies, raising an eyebrow.

“Well because Azzi told me you didn’t talk much, I assumed you were going to be one of those people who never hangs out, unless needed to. ”

Tatum smirks. “Maybe I am.”

“You definitely aren’t,” Azzi says with a grin. “Besides I would never let you stay in your room longer than you need to.”

They all laugh—and for the first time since she got here, Tatum feels like maybe she’s not just visiting.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

The gym smells like sweat and hardwood and something almost electric in the air. The kind of charge you only get when it’s real. No cameras. No fans. Just buckets, breath, and blood.

Geno’s already pacing. Whistle around his neck. Clipboard balanced against his chest.

No welcome speeches.

Just, “Get on the line.”

Geno’s whistle cuts through the air like a blade.

“On the baseline. Thirty-second touches. Go.”

It’s hell. Three touches, full-court sprints, backpedals, suicides. Azzi’s already setting the pace. Paige stays a step behind her, even though she’s barely breaking a sweat.

Tatum’s holding her own. Footwork tight, arms pumping, lungs burning in that familiar way—painful, but alive.

“Slide, slide, hands!” CD shouts from the sideline.

They run shell drills next. Live ball screen coverages. Paige and Azzi on one side, Tatum and Sarah switching on the other. Geno stops the rep.

“Rhodes—what are we doing when they screen flat up top?”

“Hedge hard, recover quick.”

“So why are you trailing her like we’re playing soft drop?”

Tatum exhales sharp. “Got it. Again.”

They reset. Screen comes. She hedges, bodies Azzi high, recovers like a shadow. Sarah rotates behind her.

Geno claps once. That’s all she gets.

They scrimmage for the last half hour. Full-court, scoreboard on. Paige takes control like she’s orchestrating a symphony. Calling sets—“Horns twist! Chin drag! 5-out ghost!”—but always with freedom laced into it.

Tatum starts to feel the rhythm.

She sinks a catch-and-shoot three from the slot. Then a jab-step drive into a floater off the glass. When Paige tries to cut baseline off a stagger, Tatum bodies up and denies it. Full chest, no space.

“Nice,” Paige says under her breath, half-grinning.

“Not that nice,” Tatum mutters, locking in.

“Give it time.”

Geno stops everything after a missed defensive rotation. Not Tatum’s fault, but he doesn’t care.

“Do it again. This isn’t a highlight tape. This is habits.”

They run it back. And this time? Tatum closes out with a low base, contests the shot, sprints to the glass, and snatches the rebound out of midair like it owes her something.

That’s not the end. Days before she knows it, Geno is back to yelling.

“Move your feet, Ashlyn!”

“Ice, finish the layup!”

“Tatum—take the shot!”

Tatum takes it all. Soaks it in. Doesn’t flinch when he barks her name. Doesn’t complain when her legs burn. She hits a stepback three in transition. Then another. Then drives hard into the paint and finishes through contact.

Paige sees it. The way she doesn’t just score—she thinks, moves with purpose, reads the floor like a map she’s already memorized.

Geno blows the whistle.

“Tatum.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Don’t float. You might be new to the team, but you’re still one of the leaders. So lead.”

Tatum nods. Steady hands. Chin lifted. She knows what this is. She came here for this.

As everyone heads to get some water, Tatum stays at half court. Paige jogs past her and claps her shoulder once. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to.

Tatum watches Azzi laugh with Caroline. Hears Ice and Jana bickering about who missed a switch. Sees Kaitlyn already calling the next drill.

She breathes in the gym air. Hears her heartbeat slow.

And maybe—

Maybe she doesn’t have to guard her heart when everyone around her plays like they got her back.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #ncaa women’s basketball #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x black!reader #wbb #dallas wings #wlw #nothing but net series

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svt-ara · 1 day ago

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ara and hoshi have been good at hiding. the galances and the stolen touches. to the world they are just two idols in the same group— nothing more. but behind the cameras and the eyes of others, the two steals seconds that taste like freedom and what love looks like. maybe today, lying side by side on the cold floor they'll forget the world watching for a moment.

𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘 fluff, a lil bit of angst cuz they always have to hide

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 secret relationship, mild language and that's all i think

𝗪𝗖 1.3k

𝗔𝗡 its soo late and i don't even know if what i wrote makes sense but i felt ispired and i couldn't let it go. hope yall like it

꒰୨ 𝓜asterlist ୧꒱

ara and hoshi have been together for awhile now, they were used to hiding.

they were used to hide the loving gazes they give themselves when someone who doesn't know— and doesn't have to know— was around. they were used to hide the intimate touches when they were touch-deprived for too long in front of the cameras. hoshi is known for being clingy, a tight hug or a squeeze of cheeks every now and then wasn't a big deal— neither for fans or for the staff. the members were used to the random times they disappear during one of their night outs drinking, hiding between the shadows just for a cuddle or for a pick on the lips that they didn't want to show.

you have to call others fools if they didn't notice anything at all— it wasn't obvious, they were good keeping everything lowkey. ara was good, hoshi on the other side had his times.

there were days where he was good at keeping his cool, just some gazes lingering on your face for a couple of seconds or his giggles when you had something fun to say. he was the frist to knock you off if the jokes weren't funny at all, leaving an awkward grin on your lips.

then, there were other days when everything you did was too cute for him to handle, he had to show how whipped and proud he was for her girlfriend.

[ friday, hybe building ]

ara bowed as she put her feet in the big room, greeting whoever was in there— members, staff, backup dencers. her brows frowned as bliding lights met her eyes but she had to recompone herself quickly noticing the cameras already rolling, pointed straight on her face. ara showed her best smile as she waved her hand to greet carats but her gaze was already searching for something, or— better say— someone. her typical crescent moon eyes were the last thing the camera captured.

her steps seemed a little bit rushed trowards someone, someone who lowkey was already waiting for the girl as soon as her face peeked through the door.

«am I the last one to arrive? were y'all waiting for me?» her hands rushed to her tracksuits pockets, freeing her hands from her iphone and the mask she was wearing minutes ago. her gaze pointed down, locking eyes with the brunette guy who was comfortably sitting on the small couch almost taking all the space with his legs wide open.

«we weren't starting yet» hoshi didn't seem really interested on what she had to say— he was more invested on how she looked. her long brown hair covered the half of her face making him squint his nose lightly, he needed to see what was his.

that's why his hand naturally reached her hair, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. ara blinked as his fingers gently brushed against her cheeks, its was quick— so quick that no one would've noticed if they weren't looking— but her breath still got caught for a second, both for the gentle contact and beacuse of the fear. the fear to be seen, to be exposed.

sometimes she wished they could just stop pretending, stop hiding, stop waiting for stolen seconds when none was looking— or hope no one was doing it. sometimes she wished she could've just show their innocent love folding in front of everyone eyes— it was only silent.

«yah hoshi, quit laying on the couch!» dino's voice broke the unspoken tension between the two '96 liners, snapping both of them back to the loud dance pratice room. ara galanced back as she was just facing the brunette guy, clearing her throat— an attempt to not let the awkwardness of the situation reach her cheeks.

«yah, you!» hoshi pointed at the maknae, finally getting up from the couch he was sitted on for too long, reaching him. sometimes ara was happy about how he reacted to these kind of teasing, shifting the attention to him instead of her— that would just be a mass of embarrassment and red cheeks.

ara let out a quiet breath, almost as if she had been holding it the entire time she stood there, relieved that the attention was no longer on her— or so she thought. she didn't dare to look at hoshi again, not after how the skin of his hand intimately brushed againist the skin of her full cheeks.

she turned slightly, pretending to adjust the sleeves of her tracksuit as her eyes followed the backup dancers warming up pretending she was already on work mode, pretending she wasn't thinking about him. the music started, the boys spread across the room in their usual chaotic energy, some joking, some stratching and some yawning as if they hadn't slept in days.

ara followed behind silently, moving to her spot on the pratice floor. the sound of her sneakers scraping lightly againist the polished wood as she stole one last galance trowards him laughing at something seungkwan had said, already back to being his normal self. pratice went on as usual— sweat, laughing and some horribile jokes. ara moved with precision her body, focused enough to not get scolded.

when they finally got their five-minute break, ara collapsed on the floor catching her breath. she stared at the cealing for few seconds, blinking slowly and arms streached out. «ten minutes, i just need the minutes to come back to life» she muttered under her breath, not really talking to anyone. the coreography of super was pretty insane.

it didn't take long before she heard footsteps approaching her. a shadow blocked her view of the cealing and before she could even react hoshi was already above her, his arms wrapping her waist. the weight of his body pressing on ara's chest made her wincing in pain, her head lifted slightly from the floor.

«yah, there are cameras still rolling» she hissed. her voice was sharp but still low, she didn't want to catch the attention of anyone. hoshi just chuckled softly in response, leaning on the girl a little closer.

«they're off» he said, an hint on uncertain could be heard in his voice «i think» ara face snapped back to boy as best she could've. «you think?» on of her eyebrow slightly raised, «not really the kind of certainty i need when youre pratically on top of me» her tone was ironic, but everyone could also hear the hint of nervousness that laced around.

the boy didn't moved at frist, he just stared up at her with the familiar playfull spark that decorated his dark pupils often, the kind that always made her feel like she was seconds away from giving in. and probably that's what she liked the most in him, the playful spark he never seems to lose attracted her.

then, with a dramatic sight, he moved beside her lying down the cold wood floor like they weren't both sweaty and being watched— maybe, ara felt that. their fingers barely brushed against each other, not fully touching. «i missed this, even if you're always around» hoshi murmured, his voice softer now that she even struggled for a moment trying to catch what he said.

but she didn't say anything, she didn't give him a proper answer— he didn't need to have one. her gaze shifted from the cling down to his figure laying on the floor with arms and legs wide. her lips curved just a little, almost like they were being shy, like they wanted to be a secret too.

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cherryblossms · 1 day ago

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"i'd rather sleep with you." even if they were going to be in a familiar location for angel, it was still foreign to garam. he had an issue in regards to his sleeping habits in unknown locations that stemmed from a bad experience when he was a child on vacation with his parents where somebody broke into their hotel room in the middle of the night. so he couldn't sleep on the side closest to the door, he also couldn't sleep facing the door either. but having angel there, he was sure he wouldn't have that same anxiety. when they pulled up to the hotel, all garam could do was stare in awe. he didn't have very many expectations but what he did have was nothing compared to what he was being shown. so angel's family owned this hotel, he came from money. and the fact that angel had his own code to type on the key pad to get into the parking garage only instilled that further. "i'm sure everything will be okay." garam tried to be reassuring back, a hand lifting to give angel's arm a a quick squeeze before he got out of the car. garam stood close to angel as they approached the woman, his body positioned a step behind as if he were trying to hide himself. hearing the woman call out angel's first name, garam couldn't stop his smile from growing. he didn't understand why angel didn't use that name, he thought anthony was a perfectly nice name but, of course, he wasn't going to question him on it nor would he try to use that name since it was made obvious he didn't like it. garam maintained that composure as the two of them spoke briefly, not wanting to interject or come off as rude in any sense. however, his smile vanished immediately, his attention shooting up to angel. a friend, really? that's how he was being introduced to angel's family? just as quickly as he looked at angel, he looked down to the ground, feeling himself shrink even more. he should have been used to it; he was only once introduced to axel's family as his boyfriend, that's when garam learned how disapproving they were of their relationship. that was the last time he was introduced as anything but axel's friend to family members. garam didn't want to believe this introduction was done out of shame, he was smart enough to put it together that she was asking what garam was to angel with his choice of answer, so it couldn't have been that he wasn't out with his family. he was so lost in his thoughts, silently questioning why angel wouldn't have introduced him as something fonder that he hadn't recognized angel's aunt questioning to him. "me? o-oh, um... y-yes, ma'am." he sputtered nervously, nodding his head. "they're very relaxing." and that really was something he needed right now. it felt like he was just always on edge, the fear of axel popping up was eating away at his nerves. even now, he worried that the two might have been followed by somebody else and garam just didn't notice the car to say so. he wanted to reach out to angel for comfort but feared how that may have made the two appear if there was physical contact between the two of them. so when his hand lifted to take a hold of the back of angel's shirt, garam stopped himself and tucked both of his hands behind his own back. his body shifted, looking up to angel again, his lips parted as if he were going to say something but he was quick to withdraw, offering a small smile instead.

Angel’s fingers tightened briefly on the wheel, a subtle twitch of nerves that betrayed more than he wanted it to. He didn’t answer right away—just exhaled slowly through his nose, like he needed to summon the words from someplace deep and reluctant. It was quiet enough to hear the soft hum of the engine and the way Garam’s question still lingered in the space between them like a fragile thing, waiting to be acknowledged. “No,” Angel said at last, voice low, not quite ashamed but not exactly proud either. “Not… not really.” He glanced over at Garam, catching the confused furrow of his brow and the way he worried his lip slightly, like he thought he’d missed something important. Angel’s chest gave a tight, almost fond squeeze at the sight. Leave it to Garam to immediately assume he was the one at fault. “I go by my middle name,” Angel continued, eyes returning to the road. “Always have, pretty much. My first name’s… complicated.” He gave a short huff, barely a laugh. “Too heavy, maybe. Too much tied to it. It’s like—” He paused, searching for the right words. “Wearing a coat that never really fit right, you know? Even if it looks good on paper, it just doesn’t feel like me.” It was more than that, of course. His first name came with expectations, with history. With a family legacy he hadn’t exactly run from, but hadn’t embraced either. The kind of name that belonged on buildings and business cards and press releases, not… in the mouth of someone who held his face like it might break. Not in a hotel room where they were just two people trying to be okay for a while.“They’ll use it because they think it’s polite,” he added after a beat, his tone softening. “Because that’s how they know me. Or knew me. I haven’t seen them in years, but…” He shrugged, a small, almost shy motion. “I figured it’s worth it if it means a safe place. And you not sleeping in the car.” He let that hang there, a quiet reassurance wrapped in dry humor, before flicking a glance sideways—and catching the very end of Garam’s flustered mess of a flirtation. The corner of Angel’s mouth twitched again, and this time the smile actually formed, subtle but real. He didn’t say anything right away. He didn’t have to. Garam’s hands were still cooling from their frantic attempt to hide the redness in his ears, and the sheer Garamness of it all—the awkward delivery, the helpless laughter, the way he’d immediately folded in on himself—made something warm spark behind Angel’s ribs. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” Angel murmured, eyes still on the road but voice warm and full of affection. “Otherwise that line would’ve been a crime.” A soft laugh bubbled up in his throat, small and genuine, and it felt… good. He couldn’t remember the last time laughter hadn’t felt like it came with a cost. Silence returned after that, but it was laced with something lighter now. Not just safety, but a flicker of something new: possibility. The car glided smoothly off the freeway exit, toward a quieter part of the city where Angel knew the hotel stood—discreet, tucked away, and owned by family who owed him more than a few favors. It wouldn’t show up in any searches, and the front desk wouldn’t so much as blink if he asked them to forget the names on the register. Angel’s gaze flicked to Garam again, who was now checking the mirrors with clockwork precision and worrying over every lit-up notification on his phone. There was still tension in his posture, but also determination. That was the part that kept getting Angel right in the center of his chest.

“We could get a room with two beds.” He just wanted Garam to know he had a choice. No expectations. No pressure. Just space, if he needed it.But God, some part of Angel still hoped—deep in his chest, curled beneath layers of guilt and fear—that maybe Garam didn’t want the distance either. “I would like to add I do enjoy sharing a bed with you. We haven't exactly slept apart since you came to the apartment” Angel spoke barely above a whispered as he pulled up to the hotel. The hotel stood like a quiet sentinel at the end of a tree-lined street, its sleek exterior bathed in soft light that gleamed off brushed metal and dark stone. Discreet, elegant, expensive—but more importantly, safe. Angel didn’t slow until they were past the front awning and pulling into a gated underground garage. The security gate buzzed open with a quiet mechanical sigh after he keyed in a code he hadn’t used in years. Surprised it worked Angel’s expression had gone flat in that careful, almost distant way he used when facing anything that smelled like family. He wasn’t shutting down—just tucking pieces of himself out of sight. The moment the car was parked, Angel took a breath, bracing. “They’re not going to bite,” he said softly, flicking off the ignition. “But they might fuss. And they’ll definitely talk. Just… ignore half of it.” A woman behind the front desk looked up, her dark hair coiled into a perfect chignon. She didn’t smile at first—her gaze sharp and assessing. But the moment she recognized Angel, her whole face lit up.“Dios mío,” she breathed, stepping around the desk in heels that clicked authoritatively against the floor. “Anthony.”Angel winced. “No te he visto en años, cariño. Pensé que te habías muerto o que te habías hecho monje.” He sighed. “Hola, Tía. I’m not dead. Or a monk.” She cupped his face in both hands and kissed each cheek before pulling him into a tight embrace that somehow managed to be both suffocating and grounding. “¿Y quién es este niño tan bonito?” she asked as she pulled back, looking Garam over with the precision of a jeweler inspecting a diamond. “¿Tu novio?” Angel froze. Then his ears turned red. Purpusly answering in English out of respect for Garam. “He’s a friend, Tía english please” Angel said quickly. Then, softer, “Pero… sí. Algo así.” The woman—his aunt, clearly—arched a perfectly plucked brow and didn’t comment further. But the look she gave Angel said everything. “Come,” she said, switching back to English for Garam’s sake. “You’re lucky it’s me at the desk. We’re full tonight, but I always leave one suite open in case your mother drops in unannounced.” She narrowed her eyes at Angel. “Which she does. Frequently.” Angel made a pained noise in his throat. “You’ll take 908. Two bedrooms, two baths, full kitchen, and yes, there’s a tub.” She turned her attention to Garam, her tone softer now. “You like bubble baths, cariño?”

#threads #thread: garam #thread: garam & angel #ang3lmoans

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freakmcnastyy · 1 day ago

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Behind closed doors

Oh Beom-seok x f!reader (one-shot)

Summary: There wasn’t supposed to be anything between you two — until you realized that sleeping with your dad's best friend's son wasn't such a bad idea.

Warnings: Slow burn (really long), smut.

Note: Anon request! (I separated it with emoji before smut started )

⸻

The restaurant was huge. Loud with voices—dads talking business, the clinking of glasses blending with the soft clash of cutlery on porcelain plates. Everything screamed luxury. Not the warm kind.

And you… you were used to it. Maybe too used to it.

But Beom Seok?

He didn’t belong there.

You didn’t even notice him at first. He had on a plain black sweater, collar of a shirt peeking out faintly. Sat upright, stiff, hands clasped over his knees, knuckles pale as paper. Like someone had dropped him off and vanished.

You didn’t realize you were staring— Not until he noticed.

He turned his head slightly, caught your eyes for a heartbeat, then looked away almost instantly. That was the first time your eyes met.

His gaze was distant. Uneasy. Almost guilty.

Like he was silently saying, “Don’t look at me.”

But it was already too late.

Your father was laughing at something when you gently turned your head, pretending to be politely bored. But your mind stayed on him.

Everyone was talking, everyone was laughing, life moved on—

But he stayed frozen. Right there. Like he was afraid even breathing wrong would ruin something.

And for just a second, a thought crossed your mind:

What happened to him?

But you didn’t ask. You knew these dinners too well. You answer what’s asked. You say what’s needed. The rest? Gets lost in eye contact.

When your eyes met his again, he didn’t look away this time. Not immediately. He tried to hold your gaze—but failed. His pupils shrank, his jaw tensed. Like not just your presence, but his own existence was too much for him in that moment.

Because you…

You were something else entirely to him.

Maybe the child his father wished he had.

Maybe someone he could never be.

Maybe just… you.

You kept your face neutral. No smile. No judgment. Just attention. The kind people give when they’re trying to understand the difference.

But he mistook that too.

Took it as pity.

After that night, it became a routine—seeing them, eating with them. Your dads were close and wanted to hang out often.

⸻ /TIMESKIP/

Beom Seok’s mom greeted you at the door. She smiled, but didn’t say a word. Just a soft nod, then silence. It was so quiet your heels felt too loud. As you took off your shoes at the entrance, your eyes drifted—he was already there. Sitting across the living room.

At the table, the dads jumped into conversation—politics, the market, the usual nonsense. You poked at your food, listening quietly. Beom Seok did the same. Every bite he took seemed to last forever. Or maybe he just needed time. You couldn’t tell.

Then it happened.

His dad suddenly stopped mid-sentence. Like he’d been holding something in and couldn’t anymore. He slammed his fork down.

“You skipped school again today,” he said.

Beom Seok didn’t lift his head.

“Who were you with this time? Those delinquent friends of yours?”

The air in the room shifted.

Forks froze.

Even you turned without meaning to.

Beom Seok didn’t move. Didn’t say a thing.

That silence only made his dad angrier.

“How long are you going to keep disgracing this family?”

His voice rose.

Your father stepped in, smiling politely, trying to calm things down.

“Come on now, he’s just a kid. We were all young once. Friends matter.”

But Beom Seok’s dad snapped toward him.

Eyes narrowed like he was waiting for this chance.

“Easy for you to say. You’ve got YN. Always so quiet, so well-behaved. She sits like a lady. I hear she’s doing great in school too. Not like my failure of a son.”

Everyone turned to look at you.

You smiled.

Didn’t say a word.

Beom Seok still hadn’t spoken.

His eyes locked onto a spot on his plate.

There was nothing there, but he wouldn’t look away.

His mom?

Didn’t say a word.

Didn’t even look at him.

Kept eating like no one was being torn apart in the same room.

Your dad looked like he wanted to say something else, but the man had already changed the subject.

Your eyes met again—but he pulled away.

This time, not just from you.

He looked at the corner of the room like he wanted to disappear into it.

⸻

The dinner was over. The adults had sunk into the living room couches, drinks in hand, crystal glasses clinking with slow-melting ice.

You sat in a corner, quiet.

Nodding, smiling when needed. Pretending to listen.

But your mind was elsewhere.

There was an absence.

Beom Seok had left the table a while ago.

He hadn’t returned.

No one noticed.

No one called for him.

Like he was never really there to begin with.

You didn’t say a word.

Just stared at your water glass.

Finger tracing the rim.

Then: “Can I use the bathroom?”

No one objected.

Out in the hallway, it was even quieter.

No more laughter leaking through.

Your steps felt weightless on thick rugs, past clean-cut furniture.

You knew where his room was.

The door was sliding.

You didn’t knock.

You just placed your palm on the cold wood, held your breath—

And slowly slid it open.

There he was.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched forward.

Hands dangling between his knees.

Glasses in one hand.

Eyes locked on the floor.

He wasn’t thinking. Or maybe he was thinking everything at once.

He flinched when he saw you.

His shoulders jumped.

His eyes found yours.

Silence.

“Can I come in?” you asked.

He didn’t look at you for long. Just gave a small nod, patted the space beside him.

You stepped inside.

Now there wasn’t much space between you.

He was still gripping his glasses.

His hands were tense.

He didn’t speak.

So you whispered, “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“You let them crush you. Don’t you ever wanna fight back?”

That’s when he turned to look at you.

But not gently this time.

His eyes were sharp.

There was a fire in them.

Like every word you said had cut deeper.

“You don’t know anything,” he said.

Cold.

Tight in his throat.

“You don’t know me. You don’t know my dad. You don’t know this place. But you talk like you do.”

He turned fully toward you.

“Your life’s easy. Everyone likes you. You sit there and get praised. No one ever humiliates you. What would you know about being me?”

You hadn’t expected that tone—but your face didn’t flinch.

No fear.

Just disgust.

You didn’t hide it.

Your lips curled.

You stood up slowly.

“Oh God,” you said.

Just that.

And it chilled the whole room.

“Maybe your dad’s right,” you added.

“Your loser friends really did mess you up.”

You didn’t stay.

Turned around.

Slid the door shut behind you.

Left.

But some part of you…

Some part of you stayed in that room.

Because in Beom Seok’s eyes, there was a loneliness so deep—

Even rage couldn’t cover it.

Even you walking away… couldn’t erase it.

⸻ /TIMESKIP/

The restaurant was crowded.

Wealthy laughter, the thick smell of food, and the clinking of ice-filled glasses were all competing to be heard.

You sat quietly in your seat.

Pretending to listen, but you weren’t really hearing anything.

Slowly, you stood up. No one thought twice about it.

“I’m going to the restroom,” you said.

You didn’t walk too fast. You didn’t want unnecessary attention.

As you moved between the seats, the fabric of your dress brushed against your legs. Your heels tapped lightly on the wooden floor.

When you entered the hallway, the sound of the restaurant began to fade behind you.

Only your footsteps remained now.

You stepped into the women’s bathroom. It was empty.

You placed your bag on the counter.

Took out a makeup brush.

Touched it lightly to your cheeks.

Not too much. Just a little.

But then the door opened.

A hum ran down your spine.

You didn’t even need to turn around to know who those echoing footsteps belonged to.

It was him.

And just like that—he closed the door behind him.

Then… he locked it.

Your heart jumped into your throat.

You watched your face in the mirror first. Then slowly turned to look at him.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

Trying to stay calm, though the weirdness of the moment unsettled you.

Still, you stood your ground.

You weren’t scared of him. But… you didn’t understand.

Beom Seok took a step toward you.

It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t soft either.

But it was certain.

His eyes were locked onto yours.

There was something open in them this time.

Like a darkness mixed with hurt.

He spoke slowly.

“I’m sorry… for last time.”

You saw the shame in his eyes.

But what you felt wasn’t sympathy.

Just a brief pause.

“It's okay,” you said.

You didn’t want to drag this out.

You didn’t want to fix it with a confrontation or a conversation.

You turned toward the door. You wanted to leave.

But…

Suddenly, he grabbed your wrist.

Not tightly.

But firmly.

You didn’t pull away.

You slowly turned back.

He gently pulled you toward the counter in front of the big mirror.

Cold marble touched your back.

You shivered as it met your skin.

He was in front of you.

So close.

Not even an inch between you.

Your eyes drifted to his.

But this time, you couldn’t glare.

Because the tension inside you… was turning into something else.

It was hard to speak.

“What?” you asked.

Beom Seok’s eyes were frozen.

But the cracks were showing now.

“I don’t want to be your enemy,” he said.

His face was so close to yours.

You could feel his breath on your skin.

You looked away for a moment, then looked back again.

“We’re not,” you replied.

Short. Clear.

But he wasn’t satisfied.

“Then why do you… look at me like you pity me?”

His voice was low.

“Why do you act like I disgust you sometimes?”

That sentence—

It hit you like a nail in your brain.

You swallowed hard.

You didn’t answer.

Maybe because you didn’t have one.

Or maybe you did… but it was too close. Too raw. You didn’t know what it would touch if you let it out.

In that silence… Beom Seok’s eyes fell to your lips.

Your eyes were locked on his face.

And then—

For a moment.

Quick.

Sudden.

He kissed you.

The touch of his lips on yours—

It wasn’t warm.

It wasn’t soft.

It was short.

But it hit you like lightning in the chest.

Your eyes widened.

Your cheeks burned.

Your body froze for a second.

Then he pulled away immediately.

Almost like he startled himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

His breath was shaky.

“I don’t know why I did that.”

He looked down.

His face was burning red.

You were still standing there.

But your heart wasn’t.

Everything had scattered.

He walked to the door.

Unlocked it.

Opened it… and left.

You stood in front of the mirror for a while.

Just stayed there.

You didn’t know what to feel.

⸻ /TIMESKIP/ 🔞

Dinner had been over for a while. Everyone was sitting in the living room, chatting casually. This time, the gathering had taken place at your house. You never really understood why both families insisted on having a full meal every time they met. God, how boring they were…

You were in the kitchen, reaching for the plates on the counter, loading the dishwasher.

Each time you bent down and stood up again, the back of your dress tightened just a little. Your hair fell over your shoulder.

It was quiet.

Just the soft drip of water from the faucet and the clink of porcelain against porcelain.

You were placing the last plate when you heard footsteps.

Slow, deliberate…

There was a slight pause before someone entered.

You didn’t need to look back. You already knew.

Beom Seok.

You weren’t surprised. But he hadn’t known you’d be here.

A subtle smirk tugged at your lips the moment you realized.

You weren’t going to test him.

But you weren’t about to run, either.

A little mischief wouldn’t hurt.

You straightened up.

Turned around.

Beom Seok paused slightly when he saw you.

Like someone had flipped on the lights in a dark room.

His shoulders tensed ever so slightly.

His expression… not guilty, not exactly sorry—

But definitely uneasy.

Still, he composed himself.

Didn’t look away.

But didn’t look into you either.

You crossed your arms.

Didn’t take a single step back.

“What is it?” you asked.

Beom Seok hesitated.

As if the weight of what he wanted to say was sitting right at the edge of his tongue.

Finally, he seemed to gather up the nerve.

“About that day…” he said.

His words were scattered, like he’d rather die than have this conversation—

But could no longer avoid it.

“I mean… that kiss. If it felt disrespectful to you—”

“It didn’t,” you cut in, flatly.

His eyes locked on yours.

He held his breath, but you could feel it—whatever he’d been holding back was about to burst free.

“Yes, sometimes I do look at you with disgust,”

you said, tilting your head slightly.

Your words were cold—

But carried a strange heat underneath.

And then you took a step forward.

Slow. Deliberate.

“But you look at me like you want to eat me alive,”

you murmured,

“and that turns me on like crazy.”

Beom Seok’s eyes widened.

His lips parted, but no words came out.

Something flickered on his face—confusion, arousal, surprise.

By then, you were already right in front of him.

One step. Just one step left between you.

You leaned in, lips brushing near his ear.

Your breath grazed his neck.

“If you want to fuck me, don’t bother hiding it…”

You looked him in the eye. Whispered again.

“Because no matter how hard you try, your pants are already giving you away.”

It was jarring, hearing something so filthy come from someone like you.

On the outside, you looked so composed—

That contrast threw Beom Seok off completely.

In that moment…

His body stiffened.

His eyes locked onto yours.

“Good. I want it. Now.” he said suddenly.

You pulled back. That wasn’t your plan.

You just wanted to tease him and disappear—

You didn’t expect this.

His hand had already reached the edge of the kitchen counter, pinning you between it and his body.

“Not now,” you whispered. “Someone might catch us.”

But he didn’t care.

He stepped in closer.

Closed the distance.

His body pressed against yours.

His hands slid over your curves—possessive, rough.

“Just a quick fuck” he murmured into your ear.

His warm breath sent a shiver down your spine.

He leaned in, captured your lips in a harsh kiss.

One hand slid up, cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your dress.

Your lips crashed harder. Your breathing grew heavy.

But life continued outside—

People were still moving around in other rooms.

Anyone could walk in.

You both knew it.

He unzipped his pants just enough—

In a way he could quickly fix if needed.

He didn’t undress you.

Just pushed your panties aside.

He lifted one of your legs, hooked it around his waist.

Pulled your dress up.

At first, he only slid in the tip—

And even that felt so damn good, you almost moaned—

But he quickly slapped a hand over your mouth.

You pushed yourself closer to him, wanting more.

And the moment he realized what you needed,

he buried himself deeper, without hesitation.

Bigger than you imagined.

It felt like he might tear you apart.

Too much. Too full.

“I-it won’t fit,” you gasped against his hand.

He didn’t answer.

Just kept pushing.

You bit your lip to stifle your moan.

His movements got faster, more desperate.

His hand tightened around your mouth.

You were wet enough to help him slide in and out without making too much noise.

You had the advantage.

He pulled you even closer—

His thrusts became shorter, deeper.

He was trying to hold it in, finish without a sound,

but it was getting harder with every push.

He buried his face in your neck to muffle his groans.

His other hand gripped your ass tightly,

fingers digging in.

With one last deep thrust, he came inside you.

Both your bodies trembled from the intensity.

He stayed inside for a moment, holding his breath.

Then he quickly pulled out, fixing his pants.

Left you panting, back pressed against the cold kitchen counter.

“Damn…”

⸻

The air in the kitchen still felt hot and electric, your bodies buzzing with aftershocks.

You both stood there, breathless.

Your chest rising and falling rapidly, heart pounding loud in your ears.

You couldn’t meet his eyes.

Your hands trembled.

What the hell did I just do? you asked yourself over and over.

Beom Seok looked just as stunned—

But a hint of pride lingered on his face.

You stood side by side,

a strange silence hanging between you—

An invisible curtain that hadn’t been there before.

Just then, the kitchen door creaked open.

Your mom walked in.

You quickly pulled yourself together,

smiling like nothing had happened.

“Mom?” you said calmly,

like this had been just another ordinary minute.

She smiled gently.

“Oh… I was just wondering where you two disappeared to. Looks like you finally became friends, huh?” she teased.

“Come on now,” she added, gesturing toward the door.

“You're about to go home.” she said, giving Beom Seok a little glance.

You and he shared a brief look—

Still carrying the tension,

but on the outside,

you were just two perfectly normal people.

⸻

Life went on surprisingly normally after that.

Neither of you pretended it hadn’t happened.

Because it had—

And neither of you regretted it.

Still, you had to hide.

Moments no one else knew about, saw, or even suspected.

Secret meetings began.

In quiet cafés, in parks, in alleyways…

You’d meet without a word.

Quick glances, stolen touches.

Now that your families sat you next to each other at dinners,

he’d always find a way to touch your thigh under the table—

Or you’d simply hold hands in secret.

Sometimes in crowded places, like restaurants or cafés,

you’d excuse yourself to the bathroom—

and he’d silently follow.

Your hands would meet, your lips would crash—

and you’d have quick sex behind closed doors.

Those brief moments washed away the exhaustion of the week,

lit new fires in your hearts.

What you were doing wasn’t exactly right.

But you kept doing it.

And you would—

for a long time.

Eventually, the families would find out.

But it wouldn’t be the kind of scandal that destroyed reputations.

If anything, if things got serious,

it might even bring both families closer.

And neither of your parents would complain about that.

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