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acourtofchaos · 1 day ago

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YOU CAN HOLD MY HAND IF NO ONE'S HOME | Sirius Black x F!Reader

Summary: When you aren't as good at hiding your relationship as you both think you are. [Fluff. 3.6K]

Warnings: Hidden relationship, very soft sirius, a little suggestive, typical mischief from the other boys

A/N: This is a re-write of a fic I wrote years ago for a character I no longer write for and I thought it'd be cute to turn it into a Marauders fic instead of getting rid of it :)

You woke to warmth.

To streaks of golden morning light that spilled from the windows and left glowing lines across bare legs that were hopelessly tangled with anothers.

There were soft puffs of breath stirring your hair at the crown and the faint smell of smoke and spice tickling your nose with every slow inhale you took in sync with the rising chest you found yourself buried against.

Your face pressed so deeply into the column of his throat that your lashes brushed the skin there when your eyes finally fluttered open.

And yet he tried to pull you even closer when you yawned and pressed your hands to his stomach in an attempt to shuffle yourself back, strong arms winding tight around your waist and the soft scrape of barely-there stubble over your forehead as he dipped his chin and planted a lazy kiss there.

“Don’t go yet.” He rasped, voice low, sleep-thick. "Want to hold you a bit longer before you go rushing off.”

You melted a little at that, your own apologetic kiss laid to the hollow of his throat before you pulled back to meet his sleep-warmed gaze.

Fingers stroking through the mess of his hair like you could soothe away the discontent that grew in both of you when you thought about having to leave his arms, his flat, pretending all the while that you hadn’t created a home for yourself in both.

Because that’s how things were between you and Sirius - how they had to be when this thing between you was a secret kept from the other three most important parts of your lives.

You’d decided together that they couldn’t know yet - Remus, Peter and James.

It was just still so new.

There would be too much pressure.

James and Remus were protective to an almost alarming fault and Peter would probably have a quiet panic attack over the possibility everything could go wrong. The boy who despised even the slightest arguments amongst his friends, fretting himself into an early grave at the thought of being forced to choose a side should it all fall apart.

It made sense to keep things between them until things felt more solid, less fragile than this sweet, tender thing you both held in your hands right now.

There was just times, this moment being one of them, where you wanted nothing more than to say fuck it and let them find out if it meant you could stay in Sirius’ arms that little bit longer.

And he was clearly thinking the same.

For when you stretched and tried to roll to the side, he followed. Catching the hand that had been reaching for your phone before luring it back and pressing it into the mattress whilst he rose above you.

“Where do you think you’re going, love?” He grinned, a little drunk with pride when you shivered lightly before throwing him a rather adorably unconvincing glare.

“We’re supposed to be meeting the others for breakfast and I still need to go home and change.” You huffed lightly, arching a challenging brow when he made no move to let you go. “Unless you want them asking why I’m in the same clothes I wore to the pub last night.”

Your words made his eyes spark, his voice turning silken as he leaned down, lips purposely avoiding your own and trailing tantalisingly slow over the line of your jaw.

“And if they did? What would you tell them, hmm?” He taunted, murmuring. “Would you make up some flimsy excuse like you did last night - let them keep thinking that you're so innocent and sweet, that you don't lie about headaches just so I can get you home and devour you sooner.”

“Are you forgetting we all grew up together?” You laughed breathlessly, loud in the otherwise silence of the room before it caught in your throat as Sirius nipped at your ear. “They already know I’m hardly what you call innocent.”

“Not like I do.”

You groaned when his teeth found your shoulder as he pulled at the collar of your t-shirt, sinking down until you arched like a bow against him before sweeping his tongue across the newly made mark.

You were clinging to him now, fingers buried into the warm skin of his ribs and every thought about getting up and leaving began to drift away like smoke in the wind when he raised his chin, smile sinful, teasing, to watch you as he rolled his hips into yours.

“Jesus, Sirius.” You breathed, an unbidden plea, and he sank down into you to kiss you then. All slow, soft heat as he indulged you, arms caging you in, gentle hands cupping your cheeks.

It made your blood catch light and your heart ache, your head dizzy with each brush of his tongue against yours whilst your skin grew warm and tingly from his body pressed flush against you - the sunlight that poured over you both when the sheets slipped away as you wove your legs around his waist.

A quiet moan slipped from you when he sucked at the pillow of your bottom lip and there was almost another as he drew back to look at you - all darkened eyes, ruffled hair and kiss-bruised lips.

“You make the prettiest sounds I’ve ever heard.” He whispered, voice a little awed whilst his thumb scraped over the arc of your cheekbone.

You grinned, something sweet and golden blooming beneath your ribs that made you glow from the inside, the air feeling warmer as you turned your head to mouth a tender kiss to his wrist. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He murmured, dropping his head to nudge his nose against yours when your gaze was back on him once again. “Everything about you is so ridiculously pretty, you’re killing me expecting me to just let you leave when you look like that.”

His hand found the edge of your shirt, fingers toying with a hole in the worn fabric before they slipped under to splay across the smooth skin of your belly, his thumb stroking small circles that dipped teasingly beneath the waistband of your underwear.

He watched as your breath hitched, as you shifted beneath him like you were trying to to push further into the press of his hand and then he suddenly leaned back. Eyes twinkling and lips parted before they quirked into a smug grin.

“Speaking of which - isn’t this my shirt?”

Shit.

You'd hoped he wouldn't realise that you'd snatched up one of his when redressing last night. Choosing to forgo your own that was nestled among a few other things of yours in the draw he'd cleared out for you.

There was something about being wrapped up in a shirt that smelled like him, that you swore still managed to hold the heat from his skin despite however long had passed since he wore it.

It felt like safety and comfort.

It felt more like home than any of the dozen places you had given such a title to over the years. And you craved it.

You thought Sirius understood. That he saw it in your face and the flash of nerves in your eyes that stealing his clothes was a step too far too soon, because even when you shrugged, when you tried your best to sound casual and lie that you couldn't find your own, his smile only got wider. Sweeter.

There was a new warmth in his eyes as he tugged at the hem again.

"Yeah?" He asked, grinning brighter than any star in the sky. "Well fuck, gorgeous, maybe I should start hiding all your clothes if it means getting to see you in mine. Looks so much better on you."

A bubble of laughter rose from your chest - bright and airy with relief and something impossibly tender for the boy above you. You wanted to draw him down, kiss him until you were both breathless and drunk from it and feel him press so deeply into you that it would be impossible to tell where one you ended and the other began.

You would have done it if it wasn’t for the sharp ring of a message alert sounding from your phone, the shrill of it puncturing the sticky-sweet haze you’d both slipped into making you flinch.

There was a pout on Sirius’ lips when you nudged at him, your hand a firm and constant obstacle when he still tried to chase your mouth with his own before giving up and falling back into the sheets with a dramatic huff. Hiding his smile with mock offence at the sound of your chuckle.

You bit your lip as you raised yourself up on your elbows and looked at him.

The lazy way he draped himself back, all smooth, tattoo-littered skin against black cotton sheets, grey sweats slung low on his hips and his hair wild from where your fingers had tangled desperately within it. He caught you staring and his lips spread into another shit-eating grin, his tone full of taunt when he winked at you. “You gonna get that or just keep staring at me like you want to fu–”

He spluttered when the pillow crashed into his face, choked laughter erupting from his throat whilst you huffed and rolled your eyes before snatching the phone from the bedside table.

And then they went wide.

Panic flooding through your gut as you attempted to fling yourself to your feet only to get your foot caught in the sheets, flail, and nearly end up in a heap on the floor.

You caught yourself at the last minute, a hand thrown to the wall when you stumbled before searching the room for your jeans.

“James and Remus are on their way here. Right now.” You told a confused looking Sirius, whose gaze swiftly changed from concerned to a disappointed understanding, his body frozen right where he’d frantically risen, arms open and outstretched to catch you if you had fallen. “They asked if I’m nearly at the cafe because they’re on their way but stopping to pick you up first?”

“Shit, yeah, I completely forgot.” He muttered, passing a weary hand over his face before he slipped from the bed after you and in search of a shirt for himself. “They offered because my bike is still in the garage.”

You nodded absentmindedly, eyes still darting along the floor before you spied your jeans partially hidden beneath Sirius’ clothes from the night before, all pooled together from where you’d tumbled into his room, mouths desperate on the others and hands a little too greedy to feel skin to take notice or even care where the things you were wearing landed.

He snorted at the way you lunged for them, the little cry of aha! when you lifted them triumphantly before bending to shove your legs inside them. “I’m just gonna have to go like this.” You huffed and Sirius had to bite down a wild groan when you straightened.

Between your sleep-roughened hair and kiss-swollen lips, the tight jeans and his shirt that, when the collar shifted ever so slightly, showed a brief glimpse of the pretty marks he’d left on your skin. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through this breakfast with his sanity intact. “...let's just hope they don’t recognise the shirt.”

He swallowed hard, shook his head in a daze both in an attempt to reassure you and to rid himself of the feverish need that was rapidly bleeding through his veins once more. “They won’t, it’s not one I ever wore that much.”

And yeah, maybe that was a lie.

But he didn’t want to mention that it had once been one of his favourites and have you decide that wearing it wasn’t worth the risk.

Not when the sight of you in it had something akin to possessive wonder coiling in his chest every time he looked at you, infusing his bones and making his heart swell with it. Racing to an impossible rhythm, a delirious beat of mine, mine, mine.

There was another chirp from your phone and you quickly glanced at it whilst Sirius distractedly rummaged through his drawers, cursing as you located your shoes and yanked them on before reaching for him. “I have to go.” You rushed out, fingers curling around the nape of his neck to drag him into a too brief kiss, his lips only just beginning to part over yours when you pulled back and tried to dash towards his bedroom door.

Only, before you could take another step his hand found itself wrapped around your wrist and then he was tugging sharply, reeling you back into his arms so his mouth could descend upon yours once again - hot and messy. More than a little starved for the taste of you.

And despite yourself you melted, humming happily before you felt him smile against you and the corners of your lips tugged up into one to match. “Sirius, I’ve got to go.”

You laughed when his hand curled around your hip to pull you closer. His voice muffled but no less cheeky when he countered. “Just getting it out of my system before I have to endure the torture of being surrounded by our friends whilst pretending that I don’t want to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you whilst you're wearing my shirt.”

Your thighs clenched together at that, cheeks warming as you imagined it. Without meaning to your fingers tightened their grip in his hair, the hand that had rested over his heart curling until your nails bit into his skin and you had to catch yourself as your hips subconsciously rocked against him.

It made him grin like a devil, even more so when you swore, his eyes gleaming with heat, mischief when you flexed your hand straight and pushed yourself away from him.

He let you go without a fight to finally pull his shirt on and chuckled, low and rough, when your narrowed eyes tracked over the tempting fit of it before flicking back to his. “You’re an absolute menace, Black”

“Only for you, doll.”

You snorted at that and turned, still grinning like an idiot when you swung his door open before you screamed in shock. Your hand flying to your chest to cover the place where your heart slammed frantic against your ribs.

Sirius was by your side in an instant, his body surging past yours in a blur to place you behind him, expression hard and dangerous before it morphed into stunned surprise. His brow furrowing and mouth dropping open.

Because at his breakfast table sat James and Peter. Both of them never looking more delighted with themselves than they did in that moment with laughter in their eyes and bright ‘gotcha’ smiles spread wide across their handsome faces.

Remus was busying himself with pulling groceries out of a bag but you caught the way he glanced between both yours and Sirius’ disbelieving expressions before hiding his face, grin soft and his shoulders shaking.

There was a moment of silence where all of you just stared at each other and then both you and Sirius spoke at the same time.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Did you seriously just let yourselves into my flat and sit waiting for us to come out?”

It was James that answered.

Like he’d been bursting with impatience for one of you to ask just so he could, his fingers tapping impatiently against the solid wood of the table before he pointed to you.

“What’s going on is that you’ve been lying to us and now you’ve been caught red handed.” He smirked, entirely too amused by the way you couldn’t even hide your guilty expression before he turned to Sirius and shrugged. “And you gave us each a key.”

Sirius scoffed at that, snarking. “Yeah, for emergencies, Prongs, not to be cr–”

“So you don’t want coffee then.” Remus interrupted mildy, lifting one of the steaming cups from beside him without looking up from where he was setting things up for your apparent breakfast. A spread of pastries and fruits, jams, fresh bread, bacon and eggs and sausages all lined up for him to cook whilst you slowly processed what you had just walked out to.

And just like that Sirius lost some of his guarded edge. He still watched them all and then you with calculating eyes, assessing the situation, looking for hints of discomfort before he softened completely and trudged forward to take the drink, then a second, from Remus whilst you sank into the chair besides Peter.

You expected it to feel awkward but it wasn’t.

There was no anger or accusation from the boys, only curiosity and something soft like joy when they observed the way Sirius drew immediately back to you, one hand placing your drink in front of you and the other resting gently at the back of your neck to let you know he was there.

They hadn’t done this with any other intent but to let you know that everything was fine. That you didn’t have to worry about things changing or them thinking any different of either of you because they would always be happy with whatever you decided as long as it was what made you happy.

And with that knowledge you fully relaxed, easing back into Sirius’ touch. You took a deep breath and inhaled the smell of the coffee, the bacon that hissed and smoked when Remus placed it in the pan and after a large gulp of your drink you turned to the curly haired boy across from you and nudged his leg with your toe. Smiling when his lips quirked and he nudged you back.

“Go on then.” You sighed with a grin, “Where did we mess up - what gave us away?”

James laughed, his features boyish and light with it. “Take a wild guess.” He joked and when you didn’t answer, blinking at him in confusion, he looked at you for a beat, then two, and then at his friend on the other side of the table, shaking his head with amusement. “I told you it looked like they hadn’t even realised what they’d done.”

You glanced at Sirius who looked just as clueless as you, racking your brain for such a memory and coming up with nothing.

“You kissed right in front of us.” Peter finally explained with a quiet chuckle. “Well, it was at the bar - which we had a pretty good view of.”

It hit you then. A little soft and fuzzy around the edges but you could remember Sirius’ hand resting on your hip, the way he'd tucked you tighter against him to avoid getting jostled at the busy bar and it had been second nature. A reflex almost.

You had looked up at him with a sweet smile and the moment you had tilted your chin he hadn’t even thought to deny you, pressing a warm kiss to your lips and then another to your forehead that had made your heart flutter.

You opened your mouth and then shut it again, pressed your palm to your lips to smother the laughter that bubbled up - bright and delirious.

You had both thought you had been so subtle only to discover you couldn’t have been more hopeless at hiding your relationship if you had tried. There was a twinkle in Sirius’ eyes when you turned again to find him watching you, an undisguisable fondness when you reached out and gently punched his arm.

“This is your fault.” You accused, teasing. “You kissed me.”

“And you didn’t stop me.” He winked, far too pleased at the fact to even consider defending his lack of restraint when it came to you.

Before you could argue there was a snort from the other side of you and you twisted to catch James rolling his eyes, an indulgent grin on his face even as he complained. All faux wretchedness and almost enough drama to rival Sirius. “Good god, I don’t think I can handle you both suddenly being this lovey dovey. I think I preferred being in the dark about this.”

It made you laugh when Peter responded before you were able, an immediate quip that had the brunette blushing wildly when he mentioned how he’d rather see this than what he used to innocently walk into in the dorms whenever James had Lily over.

There was warmth in your chest - a champagne fizz type of happiness - when it turned into a competition of swapping embarrasing stories and the room filled with bickering voices and radiant bursts of laughter, when Sirius drew his chair closer and tugged you into his side, fingers drawing lovely, sweeping patterns on your shoulder whilst his voice joined the chaos.

You beamed at Remus, who appeared at your side to place a plate of food in front of you, a little mix of everything that you liked that immediately had your stomach growling.

He returned your smile immediately, eyes crinkling with affection when you thanked him, before he ruffled your hair like he had ever since he had taken you under his wing the first time you met so many years ago.

Forever the protective older brother that somehow turned into a scolding mother the second Sirius dared to reach over with the intent of snatching a piece of bacon off your plate.

There was a flash of metal, a string of colourful curses from your boyfriend when the handle of the fork Remus had been about to pass you rapped across the knuckles of the offending hand.

“Hands off, Pads, you bloody animal. Didn’t you ever learn manners, jesus."

“Me? What about you? You break into my house, hijack my kitchen, and then try to nearly crack a bone over a slice of bacon. Where are your fucking manners, Moony?”

You zoned out the bickering in favour of tearing a chunk of still warm pastry and popping it in your mouth, startled when James’ foot gently kicked yours beneath the table.

His eyes were bright and full of mischief behind his glasses when you frowned at him and you nearly choked when he pointed the coffee-foam covered end of his wooden stirrer at your chest.

"So considering you were still trying to keep it a secret before we surprised you, how did you plan on explaining the shirt?” He crowed. “Because I could swear Pads has one just like it.”

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black #sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders fanfic #marauders #marauders au

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arxiwon · 21 hours ago

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Hii! I have a request~ Professor Heeseung x student y/n? Lots of tension and brat taming? Y/n is actually smart but pretends to be dumb, causes ruckus to end up in detention all alone with him, she messes with him and his mind on a dialy. And like, initially Heeseung was holding back and actively refusing her advances but she pushes him so much, even flirts around with others in front of him and breaks numerous codes that one day his control snaps and boom! 🔥 and when he loses it? There's no stopping him.

Detention (Professor Heeseung x Bratty Reader – Brat Taming Smut)

(Tension | Edging | Power Struggle | Breaking Point | No Mercy)

The door clicked shut.

You barely had a second to process before you were caged in—trapped between the desk and Professor Heeseung’s towering frame.

"You think this is funny, don’t you?" His voice was dangerously low, a sharp contrast to the amused smirk playing on your lips.

You tilted your head innocently, feigning confusion. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

The look in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine.

"Oh? You don’t know?" Heeseung hummed, stepping closer, forcing you to crane your neck up at him. His fingers traced along the desk behind you, slow and deliberate.

"Let me remind you, then."

His hand shot up to grip your jaw, firm, commanding, tilting your face toward him. Your breath hitched.

"You think you can tease me every damn day, parade around in that little skirt, throw yourself at other men right in front of me—" His fingers tightened ever so slightly, his thumb pressing against your parted lips. "—and get away with it?"

Your heartbeat slammed against your ribs, but still, you smiled.

"Oh? Was that supposed to make you jealous, sir?"

His jaw clenched.

"Jealous?" Heeseung let out a slow, humorless chuckle. "No, sweetheart. I’m not jealous."

His other hand slid down your stomach, teasing the waistband of your skirt.

"I’m pissed."

Your smirk didn’t last long.

Heeseung’s grip on your jaw tightened just enough to make you gasp, your lips parting for him like an invitation—one he had no intention of accepting. Not yet.

"What’s wrong?" he murmured, eyes dark and unreadable. "Not so confident anymore?"

His other hand traveled lower, ghosting over your inner thigh, just barely brushing against the place where you needed him most. The heat between your legs was unbearable, but he was deliberately ignoring it, his fingers toying with the hem of your skirt instead.

You tried to press your thighs together, desperate for even the slightest friction—

But Heeseung was faster.

"Ah, ah—" His grip shifted, prying your legs apart effortlessly. His voice was pure amusement, but there was an underlying edge, something dark and dangerous. "Didn’t I tell you? You don’t get to act shy now, sweetheart. Not after everything you’ve done."*

You swallowed hard, a shiver raking through you.

"S-Sir—"

"Now you remember your manners?" Heeseung scoffed, leaning in close—so close his breath fanned against your ear, sending another wave of heat down your spine. "Cute."*

His fingers traced slow, torturous circles along your bare thigh, getting closer, teasing, but never quite where you wanted them.

"Tell me, sweetheart—" His tone was lazy, casual, like he wasn’t currently holding you hostage against his desk, making you tremble beneath his touch. "How many times did you pull this little stunt? How many times did you test me, thinking I wouldn’t do anything?"

His fingers pressed into your thigh, digging in just enough to make you squirm.

"How many times did you beg for this without saying a word?"

Your breath hitched, and Heeseung smirked at the way your body betrayed you—reacting to his every move, even as you refused to answer.

"Oh?" He tutted, shaking his head. "Not so mouthy now, are we?"

And then—suddenly—

You whimpered, back arching against the desk as Heeseung’s fingers brushed against your soaked panties—but instead of giving you what you wanted, he simply… stopped.

His smirk was infuriating.

"Look at you." He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as if he was disappointed. As if you weren’t already dripping for him. "You act like such a brat, but the second I touch you, you fall apart?"

You let out a frustrated breath, trying to grind against his fingers, but his other hand was already gripping your hip, pinning you down.

"Tsk, tsk." He leaned in, lips ghosting over your ear. "Did I say you could move?"

You bit your lip, frustrated beyond belief.

"Sir—please—"

Heeseung let out a dark chuckle. "Please, what?"

His fingers traced up your inner thigh again, slow, teasing, like he had all the time in the world. But when you tried to shift closer—he pulled away completely.

You nearly screamed.

"Aww, sweetheart." Heeseung tilted his head mockingly, watching the way your body twitched with frustration. "What’s wrong? Getting desperate?"

You glared at him, lips trembling, thighs clenching together in a weak attempt for relief. Heeseung watched with pure amusement.

"Not so fun when I’m the one teasing, huh?"

And then—he delivered the cruelest punishment yet.

Heeseung dragged his fingers over your soaked panties, pressing just enough to drive you insane—then pulled away again.

Again.

And again.

"S-Sir—!" You gasped, hips jerking, body trembling, so painfully close yet never quite there.

But Heeseung? He was completely unaffected.

"Oh, sweetheart." His voice was soft—mocking. "You’re shaking."*

He was enjoying this.

"Does it hurt?" He cooed, dragging his fingers over your sensitive core again—so light, so teasing, it was unbearable.

Your head fell back against the desk, tears pricking your eyes.

"Y-Yes—!"

Heeseung smirked.

"Good."

"Pathetic."

Your breath hitched.

Heeseung was watching you with pure amusement, eyes dark and filled with something cruel. He trailed his fingers up your trembling thigh again, barely brushing against your soaked panties—then pulled away just as fast.

You choked out a whimper.

"Aww." His voice was mocking, dripping with amusement. "Does it hurt, sweetheart?"

Your head fell back against the desk, frustration crawling under your skin like fire.

"Y-Yes—please, sir—"

"Please, what?" Heeseung tilted his head, pretending to think. "I’m not sure I understand, baby. You seemed so confident before."

His fingers dragged over your heat again—slow, featherlight, completely unsatisfying.

"Beg for it."

Your face burned with humiliation. "I-I am—"

SMACK.

His palm met your inner thigh, sharp and sudden. You gasped, the sting sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through your body.

"Not good enough." Heeseung smirked at your reaction, enjoying the way you squirmed. "C’mon, sweetheart. You wanted my attention, didn’t you? Now beg for it."

Tears pricked your eyes. Your body was on fire, every inch of you screaming for relief.

"P-Please, sir—"

"Please, what?" He leaned in, lips ghosting over your ear. "You need to be specific, baby. Otherwise, how will I know what you want?"

Your nails dug into the desk, frustration twisting in your gut.

"Please touch me, sir—please, I-I need—"

"Need what? This?"

HE PRESSED AGAINST YOUR CLOTHED CORE—JUST TO PULL AWAY AGAIN.

"Oh, sweetheart." His smirk was pure evil. "You’re shaking."

Your entire body was trembling—from need, from humiliation, from how cruelly he was playing with you.

"You really are pathetic." Heeseung clicked his tongue, watching you struggle. "So cocky, always pushing me, always playing your little games. But look at you now."

He reached down, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"All it took was a little teasing, and you’re already falling apart."

Your bottom lip trembled.

"Aww." Heeseung’s thumb traced over your swollen lip, smirking. "You gonna cry, baby?"

He was enjoying this. Enjoying how wrecked you were—how desperate, how utterly powerless.

And just when you thought he’d keep this up forever—just when you were about to completely break—

The moment Heeseung snapped, you knew you were done for.

"You wanted this, didn’t you?" His voice was low, taunting, laced with dark amusement. "You pushed and pushed—so desperate for my attention."

His grip on your hips was brutal, fingers digging into your flesh, forcing you exactly where he wanted you. There was no gentleness, no hesitation—just pure, relentless hunger.

"Look at you." He let out a dark chuckle, watching the way your body trembled beneath him. "Can’t even talk anymore, huh?"

Your mouth opened—but nothing came out.

Your brain was too fogged with pleasure, too overwhelmed by how rough he was taking you.

Heeseung noticed. And he loved it.

"Aww, baby." He leaned down, lips ghosting over your ear, smirking at your wrecked state. "What happened to that bratty attitude, huh?"

You whimpered, body jerking against his relentless pace.

HE DIDN’T SLOW DOWN.

"Oh?" Heeseung grinned, mocking you even as he ruined you. "You really can’t speak, can you?"

Tears pricked your eyes.

"Pathetic."

He grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him.

"You wanted this." His thumb pressed against your swollen lips, smirking at how breathless you were. "Now take it."

AND HE DIDN’T STOP UNTIL YOU COMPLETELY BROKE.

You were barely conscious. Ruined. Shaking.

Your body felt like jelly, limbs completely useless, mind hazy with the overwhelming pleasure he’d forced out of you. You couldn’t even form a proper thought.

But Heeseung? He was completely unaffected.

He leaned back, admiring his work—admiring you.

"Look at you." His voice was dripping with amusement, his fingers tracing over your trembling thighs. "So fucked out. So helpless."

You could barely move, much less speak—but he wasn’t done with you yet.

"Say thank you."

Your breath hitched.

You blinked up at him, vision blurred, brain barely functioning.

"W-What…?" Your voice was hoarse, wrecked, barely above a whisper.

Heeseung tilted his head, smirking. "You heard me, sweetheart."

He gripped your chin again, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look at him.

"Thank me."

Your cheeks burned with fresh humiliation.

You couldn’t even speak properly, and he still wanted to humiliate you.

But when you hesitated—

A sharp slap to your inner thigh. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your whole body jolt.

"Did I stutter?" Heeseung raised an eyebrow. "Thank me."

Your lips trembled.

You had no choice.

"T-Thank you, sir…"

HE SMIRKED.

"Good girl."

And just like that, you were completely, utterly broken.

You were still trembling, body too weak to move, too broken to even think.

And Heeseung? He was completely fine.

No panting. No exhaustion. Just that same infuriating smirk as he leaned down, brushing his lips against your ear one last time.

"See, sweetheart?" His voice was low, taunting, dripping with amusement. "I always knew you were all talk."

He tilted your chin up, forcing your dazed, ruined eyes to meet his.

"Next time, don’t act like such a brat if you can’t handle the consequences."

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chxnsgirl · 21 hours ago

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황현진 & 한지성 ─── pas de trois 3

♡ pairing ៸៸ ballet dancer!hyunjin x ballet dancer!jisung x afab!reader ៸៸ genre ៸៸ love triangle, ballet academy au៸៸ cw ៸៸ none, lmk if anything needs to be a warning !! ♡ synopsis ៸៸ in the world of ballet, every step is choreographed—but love never follows the script. what happens when you get accepted into the ballet academy of your dreams? MAKE SURE YOU READ PARTS ONE AND TWO FIRST (HERE & HERE) a/n ๑ new part hehe. r u guys excited for where the story is going? ♡ masterlist

after class, the tension from earlier still clung to the air like a thick fog. though everyone tried to act normal, there was an undeniable undercurrent of curiosity, especially regarding hyunjin’s sudden departure. you, celeste, yeji, and the rest of your group moved toward the cafeteria together, the low hum of conversation filling the hall.

“i still can’t believe she’s here,” yuqi muttered, stretching her arms above her head. “madeline picard. that’s insane.”

“i know,” lia added, adjusting the strap of her dance bag. “people would kill for the chance to work under her. this could be huge for whoever gets cast.”

your stomach twisted slightly at the thought. as incredible as the opportunity was, it was overshadowed by what happened earlier.

felix sighed. “hyunjin looked like he was ready to break something.”

minho, walking a step ahead, clicked his tongue. “tch. can’t really blame him, though.”

you stayed quiet, your mind still replaying the way hyunjin’s expression had darkened the second he saw her.

as you all passed by one of the smaller practice rooms, a voice caught your attention.

familiar. soft. and painfully sweet.

“…i’m really glad you’re back.”

the group instinctively slowed down, eyes flickering toward the cracked-open door. you exchanged a glance with yeji, who raised a brow.

it was madeline.

no one said anything, but your curiosity got the better of you. you edged slightly closer, just enough to peek through the small opening. inside, hyunjin stood with his arms crossed, his back facing you. madeline was a few feet away from him, her expression open and hopeful.

“i want you in manon,” she continued, taking a small step forward. “you know as well as i do that you’d be perfect for it. i can talk to emile—”

“no.”

hyunjin’s voice was cold, curt.

madeline blinked, clearly taken aback. “what?”

“i said no.” he shifted slightly, his jaw tight. “i don’t care what you want, madeline. i’m not interested.”

a beat of silence passed between them.

“i don’t understand,” she said softly. “this is everything you ever wanted—”

“what i wanted?” hyunjin let out a bitter scoff, finally turning to face her. his eyes were sharp, filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “that’s funny. because last i checked, what i wanted never mattered to you.”

madeline flinched, hurt flashing across her delicate features. “hyunjin…”

“you don’t get to waltz back in here and act like nothing happened,” he went on, his voice quieter now, but no less sharp. “you left. you made your choice.”

she exhaled, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “i didn’t want to leave you—”

“yeah?” hyunjin tilted his head, a humorless smirk playing on his lips. “well, you did. so congratulations.”

madeline’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something—maybe to argue, maybe to apologize—but nothing came out.

another tense silence.

hyunjin shook his head, running a hand along his hair. his shoulders were stiff, his entire body seemingly wound tight with frustration. “just drop it, madeline. i’m not doing your ballet.”

and with that, he turned on his heel, walking toward the door.

your heart nearly stopped.

panic surged through you as you quickly grabbed yeji’s wrist, yanking her forward. “let’s go,” you whispered urgently, making a beeline for the hallway. the rest of the group scrambled after you, pretending as if they hadn’t just been eavesdropping.

just as you rounded the corner, you heard the practice room door swing open behind you.

you didn’t dare look back.

the dining hall was buzzing with conversation as you and your friends made your way to your usual table, trays in hand. despite the lively atmosphere, there was an unspoken weight hanging between you all—everyone was thinking about what they had just overheard.

celeste was the first to break the silence, stabbing her fork into her salad. “well, that was… intense.”

“no kidding,” yeji murmured, picking at her food. “i didn’t expect madeline to waltz in here and act like nothing happened.”

“she has some nerve,” yuqi huffed, leaning back in her chair. “did you hear her? ‘i’m glad you’re back, hyunjin’—as if she didn’t rip his heart out and stomp on it.”

lia glanced at you, sensing the way you were quietly processing everything. “what do you think?”

you hesitated, twirling your fork against your plate. “i don’t know. she sounded… sincere.”

yeji raised a brow. “you believe her?”

“i didn’t say that,” you corrected quickly. “i just mean… what if she really does regret everything? maybe she’s trying to make amends.”

celeste scoffed. “even if she is, that doesn’t mean hyunjin has to forgive her. did you see the way he stormed out? he looked pissed.”

your stomach twisted at the memory of his tense shoulders and clenched jaw as he left the room. you’d never seen him like that before.

minho and the guys walked over then, their trays clattering onto the table as they sat down. “you all look like someone died,” minho remarked, taking a sip of his drink.

felix sighed. “we’re talking about madeline and hyunjin.”

jisung, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since joining, finally spoke up. “i mean, can you really blame him for being mad?” his voice was unusually firm. “she broke his heart, and now she’s back like nothing happened, expecting him to be in her ballet? it’s messed up.”

you blinked, a little surprised at the bitterness in his tone. “you really don’t think people can change?”

jisung’s eyes flickered to yours for a second before he shrugged. “i think some people don’t deserve a second chance.”

the statement lingered between you both, heavier than it should have been. you couldn’t shake the feeling that jisung wasn’t just talking about madeline and hyunjin.

felix exhaled, stretching back in his seat. “either way, this is going to make things messy. if hyunjin refuses to dance in manon, they’re gonna need a replacement.”

minho smirked. “guess that means one of us might have a shot at the lead role.”

your stomach twisted again. another ballet meant another chance for you, but it also meant working under madeline.

and worse—if hyunjin really did refuse, it meant watching someone else stand where he was supposed to be.

would you be okay with that? would he?

as you poked at your food, your thoughts drifted back to hyunjin’s face before he stormed out. the anger, the pain beneath it.

after lunch, while the others lingered in the dining hall, chatting about class and upcoming auditions, you found yourself walking in the opposite direction—toward the quieter, more secluded practice rooms.

you weren’t entirely sure why.

maybe it was the way he had stormed out earlier, anger carved into every sharp movement. maybe it was the way jisung’s words at lunch lingered in your head—some people don’t deserve a second chance.

or maybe it was something simpler.

maybe you just wanted to see him.

the hallway was empty as you approached one of the smaller studios, the faint sound of music playing from inside. the door was slightly ajar, and when you peeked in, you saw him.

hyunjin sat on the floor, his back against the mirror, his long legs stretched out in front of him. his phone lay discarded beside him, and a half-empty water bottle rested near his hand. his expression was unreadable, his gaze fixed downward, lost in thought.

you hesitated before pushing the door open further. “hey.”

his head lifted slightly at your voice. for a moment, he didn’t say anything—just looked at you, as if debating whether he wanted company. but then, with a sigh, he nodded toward the floor beside him. “you can sit, if you want.”

you stepped inside, letting the door close behind you, and sank down beside him. the room smelled faintly of wood polish and sweat, the air thick with lingering tension.

a beat of silence passed. then another.

finally, you spoke. “you left pretty fast.”

hyunjin let out a dry chuckle, tilting his head back against the mirror. “yeah, well. not really in the mood for a reunion.”

you studied him carefully. the hyunjin sitting next to you wasn’t the confident, teasing guy you had come to know. he wasn’t the flirt, the golden boy of the company. he looked… tired. guarded.

“she said she’s glad you’re back,” you murmured.

his jaw clenched. “yeah. funny, isn’t it?”

you hesitated before asking, “do you believe her?”

hyunjin exhaled sharply through his nose, running a along his hair. “i don’t know,” he admitted. “i don’t know what she wants. but i do know that i can’t just pretend nothing happened.”

you nodded slowly, tracing invisible patterns on the floor with your fingers. “and the ballet? manon?”

he scoffed. “i don’t know about that either. she really thinks i’d want to be in her production?”

“she might just want to work with you because you’re talented.”

he turned his head slightly, his gaze locking with yours. “or she just wants control over me again.”

the weight behind his words settled deep in your chest. you didn’t know the full details of their past, but you knew enough to understand why he’d be wary.

“i don’t think she deserves that power,” you said softly.

hyunjin’s lips twitched into a small, humorless smile. “yeah?”

you nodded. “yeah.”

for the first time since you sat down, the tightness in his shoulders seemed to ease. he let out a slow breath, tilting his head back again. “thanks,” he murmured.

the silence that followed wasn’t as heavy as before. it was comfortable.

after a moment, he nudged your knee with his. “you didn’t have to come find me, you know.”

“i know.”

he turned to look at you again, his dark eyes searching yours. “but you did.”

your pulse skipped. there was something about the way he said it—like he was trying to figure you out, like he wanted to understand why you cared.

you held his gaze, the space between you suddenly feeling smaller, the air warmer. but before either of you could say anything else, the door creaked open.

both of you turned as emile poked his head in. “ah, there you are, hyunjin.” his eyes flickered to you briefly, but he didn’t comment on it. “come with me. we need to talk.”

hyunjin’s expression shifted instantly—back to the mask, the composed dancer, the golden boy. he stood up, brushing his hands over his pants before glancing back at you.

“i’ll see you later,” he said, and this time, his voice was a little softer.

you nodded, watching as he followed emile out of the room.

and as you sat there alone, you realized something.

even with all the uncertainty surrounding hyunjin and madeline—about whether or not he would take the role, about what she really wanted—there was one thing you knew for sure.

you weren’t just starstruck by him anymore.

you cared.

maybe more than you should.

hyunjin followed emile down the hall in silence, his jaw tight as he braced himself for whatever was coming. the older man’s office was tucked away in the administrative wing of the building, away from the main practice rooms. when they arrived, emile pushed open the door, motioning for hyunjin to step inside.

the office was neat, as always—stacks of neatly arranged papers on the desk, a single framed photo of a past production hanging on the wall. the windows let in soft afternoon light, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor.

emile shut the door behind them and turned, folding his arms as he studied hyunjin.

“you want to tell me what that was about?” his voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

hyunjin exhaled sharply through his nose. “i don’t think it needs explaining.”

emile arched a brow. “walking out on class? storming out like a child? that’s not the hyunjin i know.”

hyunjin’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “i’m not a child. but i also don’t have to sit there and pretend everything is fine.”

“no one’s asking you to pretend,” emile countered. “but you are expected to act like a professional. you think you can just walk out on class because you don’t like the guest director?”

hyunjin let out a dry laugh. “i don’t just not like her, emile.”

“i know.” emile’s voice softened, if only slightly. “i know the history. i understand why you’re upset. but personal grievances or not, madeline picard is directing manon. and you—” he pointed a firm finger at hyunjin “—are going to be the male lead.”

hyunjin’s brows shot up. “excuse me?”

emile walked around his desk, leaning against it. “you heard me.”

“no.” hyunjin scoffed. “no way. you can’t be serious.”

“i’m very serious.”

hyunjin shook his head in disbelief. “you want me to be her lead?” he let out a humorless laugh. “after everything?”

“yes.” emile’s tone left no room for argument. “you are the most talented dancer in this company, hyunjin. the best. no one else comes close.”

hyunjin clenched his jaw. he knew he was good—he had worked himself to the bone to be where he was. but this?

“you expect me to just go along with this like it’s any other role?”

“i expect you to see the bigger picture.” emile straightened. “you being the male lead isn’t just about you. this is a workshop. if we have you in manon, every girl here will want to audition. it raises the stakes. it guarantees a better cast. and it keeps this company’s reputation exactly where it needs to be.”

hyunjin’s hands twitched at his sides. “so i don’t have a choice.”

emile sighed, rubbing his temples. “i’m not forcing you, hyunjin. but i am telling you to be smart about this. don’t let your feelings cloud your judgment.”

hyunjin stayed silent, his thoughts racing.

emile watched him carefully before speaking again. “take the night to think about it.” he turned back to his desk, signaling the conversation was over. “but i expect an answer tomorrow.”

hyunjin scoffed under his breath, shaking his head as he turned toward the door. he yanked it open, stepping out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind him.

his mind was a whirlwind.

madeline wanted him in her ballet. and emile wanted him to agree—for the sake of the company, for the sake of the production.

but could he really do it?

the cafeteria hummed with life—students talking animatedly, utensils clinking against plates, and the occasional burst of laughter echoing through the space. you sat with celeste, yeji, and jisung, half-listening to their conversation while your mind drifted to the looming auditions.

then, yeji abruptly nudged your arm. “look.”

your head snapped up just in time to see hyunjin weaving through the cafeteria, heading toward a table near the center. sitting there, poised and elegant, was none other than madeline picard.

your stomach twisted.

celeste raised a brow. “didn’t he storm out of class the second he saw her yesterday?”

jisung crossed his arms, watching closely. “yeah. so why is he voluntarily going up to her now?”

the four of you fell into silence, your gazes locked on the interaction unfolding across the room. hyunjin stopped beside madeline’s table, hands in his pockets. she glanced up at him, her lips parting slightly in surprise before she smirked.

hyunjin said something, his expression unreadable. madeline tilted her head, twirling her fork between her fingers as she listened.

your fingers tightened around the edge of your tray.

a few heads in the cafeteria turned, clearly noticing the two as well. it wasn’t every day that two of the most well-known dancers in the academy shared a conversation—especially not with the history they had.

then, to everyone’s surprise, hyunjin pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

yeji’s eyes widened. “okay, now i really want to know what they’re talking about.”

you did too. and a part of you—the irrational, insecure part—hated that he was sitting with her at all.

as if sensing your gaze, hyunjin briefly glanced in your direction. but before you could decipher the look in his eyes, he returned his focus to madeline, speaking again.

hyunjin leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but firm. “i’ve decided.”

madeline arched a delicate brow. “oh?”

“i’ll do it,” he said. “i’ll be the male lead in manon.”

a pleased smile ghosted across her lips. “i knew you’d come around.”

hyunjin’s expression didn’t change. “i’m not doing this for you.”

madeline chuckled softly, unfazed. “of course not.”

he exhaled through his nose, then leaned back against his chair. “there’s something else.”

she tilted her head. “go on.”

hyunjin didn’t return the sentiment. he was here for business, nothing more. “i want to talk about the female lead.”

madeline arched a delicate brow, folding her arms. “oh?”

hyunjin scooted closer. “i know you probably already have names in mind, but i think you should seriously consider someone.” he held her gaze. “y/n.”

madeline blinked, clearly not expecting that. “y/n?”

“yes.” his voice was firm. “she’s the best fit for the role.”

madeline hummed, mulling over his words. “she’s talented,” she admitted. “but she’s young. inexperienced.”

“so was i, once,” hyunjin countered. “that never stopped you from choosing me.”

she exhaled a soft laugh. “you always were ambitious.”

“she’s good, madeline,” he insisted. “and you want this ballet to be the best it can be, right?” he met her gaze pointedly. “she’s the one you should cast.”

madeline studied him for a long moment, then a knowing smile played on her lips. “you care about her.”

hyunjin’s jaw tightened. “that’s not the point.”

“isn’t it?” she leaned in closer, searching his expression. “you never put in a word for anyone before. not even when we were together.”

his expression remained unreadable. “i’m telling you she’s the right choice.”

madeline watched him carefully before exhaling softly, her arms falling to her sides. “i’ll think about it,” she finally said.

“that’s all i ask.”

hyunjin didn’t wait for anything else. he turned on his heel and strode toward the cafeteria doors.

as he passed your table, madeline called out, her voice soft but certain.

“it’s nice to have you back, hyunjin.”

he paused, but he didn’t respond.

instead, he started walking again, staying on his path to the door.

the atmosphere in the studio hallway was thick with anticipation. dancers huddled in clusters, whispering in nervous excitement as they waited. every few seconds, someone stole a glance toward the door, where miss cassandra was expected to emerge with the casting results.

the wait felt excruciating. you stood with yeji and celeste, your stomach churning with a mixture of hope and dread. jisung was nearby, hands shoved in his pockets, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

finally, the door creaked open, and miss cassandra stepped out, holding a crisp white sheet of paper. the hallway fell into a hush as she walked toward the bulletin board, each click of her heels echoing off the walls. without a word, she smoothed the paper against the corkboard and pinned it in place.

"congratulations to all," she said, glancing over the anxious crowd. "rehearsals begin tomorrow. make sure you’re prepared."

the moment she stepped away, the crowd surged forward. bodies pressed together as everyone strained to see their fate.

you inhaled sharply, pushing through with yeji and celeste at your side. your fingers trembled as your eyes darted across the list, scanning frantically until they landed on your name.

manon

manon – your name

des grieux – hyunjin hwang

des grieux understudy / supporting role – jisung han

the words blurred for a moment as your breath hitched. your heart pounded against your ribs. you blinked, making sure you weren’t imagining it. your name. next to hyunjin’s.

a soft gasp escaped your lips. yeji, reading over your shoulder, shrieked. "oh my god! you got the lead!"

celeste let out a triumphant laugh. "i knew it! i knew you would!"

your body felt light, almost detached from reality. this was it—this was everything you’d been dreaming of.

yeji quickly found her own name under another ballet. "yes!" she cheered, grabbing minho’s arm. "we got the lead together!"

celeste beamed as she pointed at her own role. "felix, we’re partners."

laughter and celebration erupted around you, but your eyes instinctively searched for jisung. you found him a few steps away, his gaze locked on the list. his expression was unreadable at first, but then his jaw tensed. his shoulders sagged just slightly.

you swallowed hard.

"jisung..." you said softly, stepping toward him.

he turned, schooling his features into something neutral. "hey," he said, forcing a small smile. "congrats."

you hesitated. "i… i thought you would get a lead."

he shrugged, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. "i guess they thought i was better suited for supporting." he let out a small, humorless chuckle. "and an understudy. in case hyunjin suddenly forgets how to dance."

you frowned, guilt gnawing at you. "you deserve more than that."

"it’s fine," he said quickly, waving it off. "i’ll still be in the ballet. it’s not the end of the world." but his voice lacked conviction.

your stomach twisted. you knew how much this meant to him. he was always so confident, so lively—but now, he looked… small.

before you could say anything else, movement in the crowd caught your eye. hyunjin stood off to the side, leaning casually against the wall, watching the reactions unfold. his expression was unreadable, but when his eyes met yours, he gave you a slow, knowing smile.

your breath hitched. this was real. you were going to be partners.

jisung followed your gaze and exhaled through his nose. "looks like you and hyunjin will be spending a lot of time together," he said, his tone light but laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

you turned back to him, unsure of what to say. but before you could respond, emile clapped his hands, calling for attention.

"congratulations to everyone," he announced. "rehearsals start tomorrow. bring your best, because i expect nothing less than perfection."

the hallway buzzed with chatter, but a strange unease settled in your chest.

this was everything you had worked for. so why did it feel like something wasn’t quite right?

the rehearsal studio was alive with movement, dancers stretching, adjusting their shoes, and murmuring about the newly assigned roles. the atmosphere was thick with anticipation, the weight of their new responsibilities settling on their shoulders.

you stood near the center of the room, nervously adjusting the straps of your leotard. this was it—your first rehearsal as the lead in manon. your heart thudded against your ribcage as you stole a glance at hyunjin. he was across the room, tying the ribbons of his pointe shoes, his expression unreadable.

“all right, everyone, places,” madeline’s voice cut through the chatter, and the room quickly fell silent. she stood at the front with a clipboard in hand, her sharp eyes flicking between you and hyunjin. “we’ll begin with the first pas de deux. let’s see what we’re working with.”

you swallowed hard as hyunjin finally met your gaze. he smirked, pushing himself up from his seat before sauntering over to you. he moved with the kind of effortless grace you had always admired—and envied.

“nervous?” he murmured as he came to stand beside you, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

you straightened your posture, refusing to let him get under your skin. “no.”

hyunjin chuckled under his breath. “you’re a bad liar.”

madeline clapped her hands once. “we’ll start with the lift.”

your stomach twisted. the lift.

it was one of the most challenging parts of the duet—hyunjin would have to sweep you off your feet and spin you before carefully lowering you into his arms. you had rehearsed lifts before, but never with him.

he extended a hand toward you, waiting. you hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing your palm in his. his fingers curled around yours, firm but careful.

“just relax,” he murmured as he stepped closer. his free hand slid to your waist, fingers pressing lightly into your side. you shivered under his touch, the warmth of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of your leotard.

you barely had time to process the closeness before he moved.

with practiced ease, hyunjin lifted you into the air, his grip unwavering. for a fleeting moment, you felt weightless, suspended between the ground and his arms. but then—

“too stiff,” madeline’s voice rang out, making you flinch. “loosen up, (y/n). trust him.”

you barely registered the way hyunjin’s lips quirked into a knowing smirk.

“trust me,” he echoed, his voice dripping with amusement.

heat rose to your cheeks, but you nodded. you let yourself relax, allowing your body to mold against his movements. this time, the lift was smoother, more natural. when he lowered you into his arms, his face was just inches from yours, his breath ghosting against your cheek.

for a moment, it felt like the world around you disappeared. his dark eyes locked onto yours, and there was something unreadable in them—something that made your pulse race.

madeline’s voice shattered the moment. “better. again.”

hyunjin let out a low chuckle before pulling away, but not before his fingers lingered on your waist for just a second too long.

you exhaled shakily. this was going to be a long rehearsal.

the studio was nearly empty now. most of the dancers had filed out, murmuring about their aching muscles and plans for the evening. jisung sat on the wooden floor, untying his pointe shoes with more force than necessary.

felix plopped down beside him, stretching his legs out with a sigh. “man, that was brutal.”

jisung let out a dry laugh. “yeah.”

brutal was one word for it. torturous was another.

he had spent the entire rehearsal watching you in his arms. watching the way hyunjin’s hands traced over your waist, the way he lifted you with ease, the way your body followed his lead like you had done this a hundred times before.

and the worst part? the way you looked at hyunjin.

jisung had seen that look before—had seen it in your eyes when you talked about how talented hyunjin was, how much you admired him. but seeing it up close, right in front of him? it stung in a way he hadn’t been prepared for.

felix nudged his knee. “you okay?”

jisung exhaled sharply, dropping his shoes into his bag. “yeah. just—” he stopped, raking a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “it’s just hard to watch, you know?”

felix’s expression softened. “yeah, i know.”

jisung leaned back against the mirror, staring up at the ceiling. “i mean, i get it. hyunjin’s a good dancer, and they need chemistry for the ballet to work, but…” his voice trailed off as he swallowed past the lump in his throat. “it’s not just the dancing. she likes him.”

felix was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “and you like her.”

jisung let out a bitter laugh. “yeah. and it sucks.”

felix studied him, his blue eyes thoughtful. “why don’t you just tell her?”

jisung opened his mouth, then shut it.

tell you? now?

the words sat heavy on his tongue, pressing against the back of his throat. he imagined pulling you aside after rehearsal, imagined the way your eyes would widen as he finally said the words that had been burning inside him for months.

i like you. more than a friend should.

but then he thought about hyunjin. about the way you had smiled at him during practice, about the way your body fit so effortlessly against his.

jisung clenched his jaw.

“it’s not that easy,” he muttered.

felix raised an eyebrow. “why not?”

jisung let out a slow breath, running a hand down his face. “because i don’t want to make things harder for her. she’s already got so much going on. and besides…” his voice dropped slightly. “she’s already looking at someone else.”

felix frowned but didn’t argue.

jisung pushed himself to his feet, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “it’s fine. i just need to get over it.”

felix stood as well, crossing his arms. “yeah? and how’s that going for you?”

jisung laughed, but there was no humor in it. “terribly.”

with one last glance at the empty studio, he turned on his heel and walked out, felix trailing behind him.

and as much as jisung wanted to convince himself that he could move on, that he could just let his feelings fade, he knew the truth.

he was in too deep.

and watching you with hyunjin was going to break him.

the studio was alive with movement, the grand mirrors reflecting every extension, every pirouette, every carefully rehearsed moment of passion. it had been a few weeks since rehearsals for manon began, and by now, you had expected to feel a deeper sense of connection with your partner. but something was off.

hyunjin had changed.

you noticed it in the way he carried himself—his steps were still precise, still beautiful, but there was something missing. the hyunjin you once knew, the one who made every touch, every glance electric, had started to dull. he barely looked at you when you danced together, his hands settling on your waist or wrist only when necessary, never lingering. his presence had once been magnetic, but now, he felt distant, cold.

even now, as you moved through a particularly intimate scene, you could feel it. the moment required a delicate interplay of emotions—love, desperation, longing. but hyunjin’s grip was detached, his gaze unfocused. when his hand brushed against your cheek, the touch was empty, mechanical, nothing like the heat you used to feel from him.

“hyunjin,” you whispered under your breath as you moved through the steps, hoping to catch his attention, to draw him back in.

he didn’t respond.

your stomach twisted as you fought through the rest of the sequence, trying not to let his detachment throw you off.

jisung was watching. you caught the flicker of his eyes from across the studio, his expression unreadable. he was warming up with the other dancers, but his attention kept drifting toward you and hyunjin.

madeline clapped her hands, signaling the end of the run-through. “alright, take a five-minute break before we go again,” she instructed.

hyunjin dropped his hands from you immediately, not even sparing you a glance before turning away. he grabbed his water bottle and moved toward the back of the room, running a hand along his hair in frustration.

you took a deep breath, stepping away as well. that was when jisung approached, his towel slung over his shoulder. “you okay?”

you hesitated before answering. “yeah, i just…” you glanced in hyunjin’s direction, watching as he wiped sweat from his brow, his posture tense, his expression dark. “…i don’t know what’s going on with him.”

jisung’s jaw tensed, and he let out a small scoff, though it wasn’t directed at you. “i could take a wild guess.”

your brows knitted together. “what do you mean?”

jisung sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. he hesitated, as if debating whether to speak his mind. his eyes flickered toward hyunjin, who was leaning against the mirror with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“look, i don’t know exactly what’s going on with him,” jisung admitted, lowering his voice. “but it’s obvious he’s… different.” he glanced at you again, his gaze searching. “and you’ve noticed it too.”

you swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. of course you had noticed. but hearing it from someone else made it feel more real.

jisung shifted his stance, gripping his towel a little tighter. “maybe he’s just stressed. maybe it’s the pressure of the lead role. or…” he paused, exhaling sharply. “maybe it’s something else.”

“like what?” you pressed, your heartbeat picking up.

he hesitated again, his lips parting like he was about to say something important—but then, at the last second, he clamped his mouth shut. instead, he shook his head, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“forget it,” he muttered. “it’s not my place.”

the words left a bitter taste in his mouth, but what was he supposed to say? ‘it kills him to watch you care so much about hyunjin when he can’t even see what he has? that he can’t stand watching hyunjin push you away while he’d do anything to be in his place?’

no. he couldn’t say that.

instead, he forced a light chuckle, nudging your arm. “just… don’t let him ruin this for you, okay? you deserve to enjoy this.”

before you could respond, madeline’s voice rang out, calling everyone back. jisung shot you one last look—something lingering in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite place—before stepping away.

you turned back toward hyunjin, but he still wasn’t looking at you.

and for the first time since rehearsals started, you felt a sinking feeling settle in your stomach.

the theater buzzed with quiet anticipation, the dim glow of backstage lights casting long shadows on the walls. you slipped past a few crew members, carefully navigating your way to the side of the stage, where you could catch a glimpse of hyunjin without disrupting the performance.

you had thought about this all day—how you wanted to surprise him, show your support, and remind him that you were here for him. lately, something had been off. you weren’t blind to it. but maybe he just needed reassurance. maybe he just needed to know you still cared.

your heart pounded as your eyes landed on him. there he was, in his element, his body moving with the kind of precision and grace that left audiences breathless. he looked stunning under the stage lights, his expression intense as he danced alongside his partner, completely immersed in the performance.

for a moment, you forgot about everything else. his coldness, the distance he had put between you—it all melted away as you watched him, captivated.

and then, as he turned with a flourish, his gaze flickered toward the wings. toward you.

your breath hitched.

but instead of surprise or warmth flashing across his face, his expression hardened. his movements didn’t falter, but the second he exited the stage for a quick costume change, you saw him make a beeline in your direction.

“hyunjin!” you whispered excitedly, but the look in his eyes stopped you short.

his jaw was tight, and his face was unreadable as he towered over you, his skin glistening with sweat. “why are you here?” his voice was low, clipped.

the coldness in his tone stung. you blinked, taken aback. “i— i wanted to surprise you,” you said softly, forcing a small smile. “i thought you’d be happy.”

his lips pressed into a thin line. “you shouldn’t be backstage,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder. “i’m in the middle of a performance.”

you frowned. “i know, i just—”

“look, i don’t have time for this.” he cut you off, already moving past you. “enjoy the show, alright?”

and just like that, he disappeared back into the flurry of stagehands and dancers, leaving you standing there, stunned.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to brush off the interaction. maybe he was just in performance mode. maybe he was just tired, overwhelmed. that had to be it.

you shook off the uneasy feeling in your gut and made your way to the front of the theater, deciding to wait for him after the show. surely, once it was over, he’d explain. he’d apologize for being short with you, and everything would be fine.

right?

the performance ended, and the applause thundered through the theater. you waited by the stage door, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

and then, after what felt like forever, the door finally swung open.

hyunjin emerged, still in his stage makeup, his hair slightly damp with sweat. but he wasn’t alone.

your stomach dropped.

a girl followed close behind him, giggling at something he said. she was beautiful, elegant, with long, toned legs that told you she was likely another dancer.

you stiffened, gripping the strap of your bag tightly. he didn’t even notice you standing there.

didn’t even look for you.

your breath caught in your throat as you watched him place a hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the exit.

he walked right past you.

your chest tightened, a lump forming in your throat.

you opened your mouth to say something—anything—but no words came out.

and just like that, hyunjin disappeared into the night with her, leaving you standing alone in the cold.

taglist: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek @babigriin @tirena1 @nickgurl4life @geni-627

series taglist: @estella-novella @stayjinnie @wavetohannie @jehhskz @thecutiepieme @rousslut @mariteez @yeetmehome @stay3096 ♡

©chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

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paigesfuturewifey · 16 hours ago

Text

sorry for dropping off the face of the earth, hopefully this filth makes up for it (before i drop off the face of the earth again)

The cabin’s loft was a haze of dim light and summer heat, the kind that clung to your skin and made every breath feel heavy.

You’d been roped into this trip by your parents, same as every year, but this time, Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd—UConn’s golden duo—had turned the annual getaway into something far less innocent. The three of you had history: Paige’s relentless taunts, Azzi’s quieter but no less cutting jabs.

Until suddenly, you just couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t bite your tongue, like you did every year.

You snapped back. You don’t even remember what you said. Maybe it was something about how Azzi needed to back up off you or maybe you made a stupid comment about how Paige’s stupid music was too loud and annoying: just like her.

And the next thing you knew, you ended up here.

Sprawled out on the loft’s king-sized bed, the wooden beams above creaking faintly as the lake breeze drifted through the open window. Paige stood at the foot of the bed, her blonde hair loose and wild from the day, tank top stretched tight over her toned frame. Azzi leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed, her dark curls framing a face that was all sharp edges and knowing smirks.

“Thought you could keep running that mouth, huh?” Paige said, voice low and gravelly, the kind she used when she was pissed—or turned on. She climbed onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as she crawled toward you, slow and deliberate. “You’ve been fucking try it all day.”

You swallowed hard, heat pooling in your core despite the way you tried to hold your ground. “Maybe you’re just too easy to rile up,” you shot back, but your voice wavered, betraying you.

Azzi laughed softly, pushing off the wall to join Paige. “She’s got a point, P. But that doesn’t mean she gets away with it.” Her tone was silkier, more measured, but no less dangerous. She knelt beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off her skin, her fingers brushing your thigh like a warning.

You tried to sit up, to regain some control, but Paige was faster—her hand shot out, pinning your shoulder back down. “Nah, stay right there,” she said, blue eyes glinting with something feral. “You’ve been fucking with us long enough. See what happens when fuck around?”

Your breath hitched as Azzi’s hand slid higher, tracing the hem of your shorts. “What?” you managed, though it came out more like a whimper. “I don’t—”

“Shh,” Azzi cut you off, her lips curving into a smile that was equal parts sweet and sadistic. “You don’t get to talk back anymore, baby. You’re done.”

Before you could process her words, Paige’s hands were on your wrists, yanking them above your head and holding them there with one strong grip. Her other hand tugged your tank top up, exposing your stomach to the cool air and their hungry gazes. “Look at her,” Paige muttered, almost to herself. “All that attitude, and she’s already shaking.”

“I’m not—” you started, but Azzi’s fingers dipped beneath your shorts, grazing the damp fabric of your panties, and the lie died in your throat. A soft moan escaped instead, humiliatingly loud in the quiet loft.

“She’s soaked,” Azzi said, her voice dripping with mock surprise as she pressed harder, teasing your clit through the thin cotton. “Guess she doesn’t hate us as much as she pretends.”

Paige grinned, predatory and smug. “Told you. All that bratty shit was jus a front.” She released your wrists only to grab your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes. “Who you this wet for, ma? Say it.”

Your mind spun, caught between defiance and the overwhelming heat building under Azzi’s touch. “Fuck you,” you whispered, but it lacked conviction, your body arching traitorously into Azzi’s hand.

Paige’s laugh was dark, her free hand sliding down to grip your throat—not hard, just enough to make you gasp. “Oh, we will. But first…” you swore you could see the sadism gleam in her eyes, “you’re gonna beg.”

Azzi pulled her hand back, and you whined at the loss, hips bucking involuntarily. She smirked, peeling your shorts and panties down your legs in one smooth motion, leaving you bare from the waist down. The air hit your slick folds, and you squirmed, exposed and vulnerable under their stares.

“Look at that pretty pussy,” Paige murmured, her grip tightening on your throat as she watched Azzi spread your thighs wider. “Bet it tastes even better than it looks.”

Azzi didn’t waste time. She leaned down, her breath hot against your core before her tongue flicked out, dragging a slow, torturous line up your slit. You cried out, hands flying to the sheets, clutching them like a lifeline as she licked again, deeper this time, her lips closing around your clit with a gentle suck that made your vision blur.

“Fuck—Azzi—” you gasped, but Paige’s hand slid from your throat to your mouth, muffling the sound.

“Quiet,” she ordered, her voice a rough whisper. “You don’t get to scream yet.” She shifted, straddling your chest, her weight pinning you down as she tugged her own shorts off, revealing the damp patch on her boxers. “You’re gonna make me feel good first.”

Azzi’s tongue circled your clit, relentless and skilled, while Paige shoved her boxers down and positioned herself over your face. The scent of her arousal hit you—sweet, intoxicating—and before you could protest, she lowered herself, her wet folds brushing your lips.

Your tongue immediately darted out to taste her, inebriating and warm. She groaned above you, one hand bracing on the headboard as she started to grind against your face, slow at first, then faster, her thighs trembling around your head. Azzi’s mouth worked you harder in response, two fingers slipping inside you, curling deep and hitting that spot that made your toes curl.

“Goddamn,” Paige breathed, her voice strained as you sucked her clit, mimicking what Azzi was doing to you. “Fuck, ma. Jus like that.”

Azzi hummed against you, the vibration sending a jolt through your body. Her fingers thrust faster, stretching you open, while her tongue flicked your clit in a rhythm that had you teetering on the edge. You moaned into Paige, the sound muffled but enough to make her shudder, her pace quickening as she chased her own release.

“You gonna come for us, baby?” Azzi purred, pulling back just enough to let her words ghost over your sensitive skin. “Go ahead. Let go. We’ve got you.”

Her permission was all it took. Your orgasm crashed through you, a white-hot wave that had you shaking, crying out against Paige’s pussy as your walls clenched around Azzi’s fingers. She didn’t stop, drawing it out until you were a whimpering mess, oversensitive and dripping down her hand.

Paige wasn’t far behind. Your desperate moans pushed her over, and she came with a low, guttural sound, her thighs tightening around your head as she rode out the aftershocks on your tongue. She lifted off you, breathless, her abs glistening with sweat as she flopped onto the bed beside you.

Azzi crawled up your body, her lips and chin shiny with your release. She kissed you, deep and messy, letting you taste yourself on her tongue before pulling back to smirk at Paige. “Your turn,” she said, nodding toward you.

Paige didn’t need convincing. She slid down, hooking your legs over her shoulders as Azzi straddled your stomach, her hands roaming your chest. Paige’s tongue plunged into you without warning, lapping up the mess Azzi had left, and you keened, still raw from your first climax. Azzi pinched your nipples, rolling them between her fingers as she rocked against you, her own arousal soaking your skin.

“Too much,” you whined, but your hips lifted into Paige’s mouth anyway, chasing more despite the ache.

“Too much?” Paige mocked, pausing to nip your inner thigh. “Shut up and take it.”

Azzi leaned down, her breath hot against your ear. “You’re doing so good, baby. Letting us ruin you like this.” Her fingers twisted harder, and you arched, a sob tearing from your throat as Paige sucked your clit, her fingers sliding in beside her tongue.

The dual assault was relentless—Paige’s rough, hungry strokes and Azzi’s teasing pinches, her whispered praise turning your brain to mush. You were theirs, completely, a trembling, submissive wreck under their hands and mouths. Your second orgasm built faster, sharper, and when it hit, you screamed, the sound echoing in the loft as your body convulsed, slick gushing onto Paige’s chin.

They didn’t stop. Paige licked you through it, slower now, savoring every twitch, while Azzi kissed your neck, murmuring, “That’s it, let us have it all.” When you finally stilled, panting and spent, Paige pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her grin triumphant.

Azzi slid off you, lying beside you as Paige climbed up to join her. They flanked you, their hands still possessive on your skin—one on your thigh, the other tracing your jaw. “Think she’s learned her lesson?” Azzi asked, voice playful.

Paige snorted, brushing a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead. “Not a chance. She’s too stubborn. Guess we’ll have to keep her like this all summer.”

You couldn’t argue, couldn’t even speak—just lay there, boneless and buzzing, already dreading (or maybe craving) the next time they’d decide to put you in your place.

#uconn wbb #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers #uconn #paige bueckers x reader #wlw smut #smut

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hrrtshape · 10 hours ago

Note

PLEASE talk about your gossip girl dr you mentioned and young coryooo🥺🥺🥺🥺

things that my boyfriend does in my better cr that....truly warms my heart ( aka emma yaps about coryo )

finished writing this up in maths class, and i just know my teacher thinks i’ve lost the plot….... why are you side-eyeing me? let me giggle in peace.

he carries (one of) my lip glosses in his pocket and acts like it’s the biggest inconvenience but pulls it out instantly when i ask.

sharing airpods in class like it’s a lifeline but he always gives me the one that’s fully charged while he suffers with the dying one.

taking pictures of me when i’m not looking and making them his lock screen. which. ugh. cutie.

he lets me draw on his arm with a pen during class and then complains when it doesn’t wash off before dinner with his parents.

matching hoodies but we pretend it’s not on purpose.

dumb little inside jokes that make absolutely no sense to anyone else. he texts me "frog incident" in the middle of a test and i have to physically leave the room because i’m laughing too hard.

he always ties my shoelaces for me if they come undone, even if it means getting on one knee in the middle of the hallway like a loser.

doodling on my notes in class and writing things like property of coriolanus snow just to get a reaction out of me. weirdo......cringe lowkey. no i love him.

him randomly biting my shoulder when he’s bored.

me (!!) biting his bicep when i'm bored.

he always waits for me outside my last class leaning against the wall like he’s in a music video.

wearing my scrunchie on his wrist because i “left it in his car” (he did NOT have to keep it on).

fell asleep on each other during long drive and woke up to find he’s holding my hand in his sleep.

we made dubai chocolate, and thank god i know my baking cause he curdled the only chocolate we had.

taking me to the gym (ew), but not for like any malicious reason, actually i was the one who suggested it because this man *exercises*!!!!! like ok miss productive at a gym at five am.

matching the maison margiela tabi shoes, it's such a small detail, but i absolutely adore it. he'd be wearing lace-ups and i'd be wearing ballet flats.

driving me to school every morning.

i just have to mention this one part cause it’s so GRAH but i was walking out of my apartment complex and he was leaning against one of the pillars smoking and i came outside and he like wrapped his arm around my shoulder and continued smoking with his free hand. like okay..........

picking me up from the airport at 1am a few days before new years because i got out of the holiday family meetups just a bit earlier to see him.

when i got drunk on soju during the lighting of the tree at rockefeller centre and he was trying to heat me up.

he pinches my cheek. and that’s so evil. like. what the fawk. cherubicusm is NOT A FUNNY THING.

if he’s tired or annoyed or just being an absolute menace, he hooks a finger through my belt loop and just tugs me where he wants me. like i’m a thing to be dragged around. (and maybe i like it a bit....)

late-night drive-thru runs where he insists on ordering for me even though i could do it myself, just so he can say “and a chocolate milkshake for my girl” like we’re in a 1950s movie.

he keeps a lipstick-stained napkin from a dinner date in his wallet and pretends it’s just in there by accident, but he refuses to throw it away.

when i do my makeup in his room, he sits on his bed and watches.

he always puts my hair behind my ear when it falls in my face. not even thinking about it. just automatic.

when i fell asleep on his shoulder during a flight, he stayed awake the whole time just so my head wouldn’t move.

he let me paint his nails, but only clear polish, and only if i promised not to tell anyone.

he never lets me carry my own suitcase. ever. even when i argue.

when we go to stupid parties, he always keeps an arm around my shoulder when we’re moving through crowds, just so we don’t get separated.

he untangles my necklace chain when it gets knotted. just takes it from my hands and fixes it like it’s nothing.

i didn't respond to his texts once and he sent me a picture of my own house like “i know you’re in there.”

this is the mooooost miniscule but ungodly detail that made me want to marry him, but, having soy milk in his fridge. mind you, he lives with his family (he's 18 and we're still in school) and i visit 7 times max per week (every day....). and. wow. ugh.

every time he borrows a pen, he returns it with the cap bitten.

when i was complaining about my hands being cold, he took them in his and blew warm air on them.

when i’m walking ahead of him, he loops a finger through my bag strap and tugs me back. like...... not so fast. like.... where do you think you’re going?

we hook our pinkies together when walking. monster.

he adjusts my necklace when it gets twisted, gently brushing his knuckles against my throat. no acknowledgment. no reaction. just fixes it and moves on. (like a freak.)

if we’re arguing and i cross my arms, he just reaches out and tugs my wrist free, uncrossing them with this calm, effortless little motion. LIKE??? HELLO??? I NEED THAT BACK, ACTUALLY???

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forsaken-headcanons · 1 day ago

Note

You know what? I mustered up the courage to come off of anon just for this. (Not gonna tag myself, but knowing my writing style, it’s probably gonna be obvious who I am lol.)

So uh. I’m fine now, but for some context: I was kinda upset earlier. And like a perfectly normal person, I wrote some self-indulgent rarepair stuff to make myself feel better. And now I’m sharing it with you all! Hope you don’t mind :]

Elliot / John Doe

Elliot once ‘tamed’ a feral John by feeding him pizza. It was a complete accident, too. He was trying to give it to Shedletsky, but John got in the way.

It didn’t stop him from attacking the others, unfortunately. But he did leave Elliot alone for the rest of the round.

Being able to neutralize a threat like that is a big deal, so you bet that Elliot tried that shi again. Through trial and error, he discovered that John’s favourite is a plain old cheese pizza.

John’s memories while feral are fuzzy at best, and complete blanks at worst. Thus, he enjoyed getting properly aquatinted with Elliot after he managed to snap out of it about halfway through a round.

Using that one ‘the killers share a cabin across the water from the survivors cabin’ hc, John and Elliot will sometimes “meet up” between rounds by standing on their respective docks and shouting across the water at one another. They’d chat for as long as they could about the most random of things, just enjoying each other’s company.

Elliot once found a way to get a box of cheese pizza over to the killers side, and the gesture almost brought John to tears.

Noob / 1x1x1x1

Since there’s only four killers (as of writing this), I imagine that there’s barely any breaks between being chosen for rounds. And if the Spectre’s feeling particularly mean, one killer might get chosen over and over and over- (totally didn’t experience a server once with like 4 or 5 Mafiosos that we got back to back.)

See where I’m heading with this? The Spectre ends up favouring 1x1x1x1 for a while, which leads to him being worked to the bone. I’d say ‘poor guy’, but this is probably karma at this point…

No one really thinks much about it until 1x just straight-up collapses of exhaustion during a round. That was the moment that everyone realized that the killers weren’t these unstoppable machines of death; that they were bound by the same rules mortals were.

Maybe it’s naivety. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s something else entirely. But regardless, Noob’s the only one brave (or stupid) enough to approach a killer like this. The embodiment of hatred was clearly unhappy, but it’s not like he could hurt anyone in this state.

While the others did their thing, Noob kept watch over 1x. Mostly to make sure he didn’t start killing again, but also because a small part of him felt bad for the guy.

Even after the round ended and 1x got the rest he needed, Noob didn’t seem to fear him as much after that. It initially annoyed 1x1x1x1, but he eventually started to see the noob in a slightly different light when they offered themselves up after realizing that he hadn’t gotten a single kill in like, four rounds (not back to back this time, luckily. But still.)

1x eventually confronted Noob on their behaviour, and you know what he said? Noob admitted that he thought 1x could be a better (and less murder-y) person if he just had a friend.

And the crazy thing is, they were kind-of right.

There. I said my piece. I was oddly scared about sharing these for whatever reason, but yeah. I like imagining these goobers doing silly things together, and I’m tired of pretending that I don’t/lh

(I should honestly write a fic for this or something. I have way too many ideas with these guys-)

Ahh, you're the fella who I see liking all of my posts. Hello there.

Really nice headcanons and really nice rarepairs. I hope you're alright now and whatever upset you is now dealt with.

#forsaken headcanons #forsaken #forsaken roblox #roblox forsaken #elliot forsaken #john doe forsaken #1x1x1x1 forsaken #noob forsaken

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echstacy00 · 2 days ago

Text

ruin me: obsession taste like blood

dance major ! niki x dance major ! reader

getting accepted into Seoul Elite Arts Academy was the dream—your dream. the kind of dream that people sacrificed everything for, the kind that set fire to anyone who wasn’t strong enough to hold it in their hands.

and you? you had sure as hell earned your place here.

for years, you’d trained, pushed your body past its limits, given up sleep, social life, and anything remotely resembling a normal teenage experience—all for this. and when you finally stepped into the grand auditorium for the opening ceremony, a rush of pride filled your chest.

this was it.

this was where legends were made.

but then you saw him.

Nishimura Riki.

as much as you’d love to pretend you didn’t know of him you couldn’t. you’d seen his name everywhere. social media, dance competitions, whispered conversations in studios across the world. he was the one everyone talked about—the prodigy, the boy who was practically untouchable on the dance floor.

he was exactly what you expected.

cocky. arrogant.

and maybe at his status he had the right.

he was the kind of person who knew he was good so good that he made damn sure everyone else knew it too.

he thinks he owns this place.

and maybe he did. maybe everyone else would bow at his feet, would whisper about his untouchable talent and those criminally perfect looks.

but you?

you knew you were better.

and nothing was going to stop you from proving it.

from the very first class, ni-ki knew you were going to be a problem.

not just because you were good—he’d dealt with good before. he could crush good.

but you were something else.

yor movements were too sharp, too fluid, too fucking precise. You had this way of making every routine look effortless, like your body was built for this. and the worst part? you knew it.

that first day, you had taken center stage in the studio without hesitation, moving like you belonged there. like you were already the best.

and it made his blood fucking boil.

because that was supposed to be him—it always had been up until now.

people whispered about you. talked about how you might be the only one in the entire school who could match him.

at first, he told himself it was bullshit.

then he watched you dance.

and for the first time in years, something twisted inside of him.

because he couldn’t look away.

and he hated that.

now a week deep into the new semester. you had been in the studio for hours. long past when everyone else had left, long past when your body screamed at you to stop. but you weren’t done. not until every single movement was perfect—not until your routine for tomorrow was refined to a T.

and you were close. so damn close.

but close wasn’t enough. it never was.

you pushed through another run, the music pounding in your ears, your body a blur of sharp precision and controlled grace. every turn, every extension—it all had to be seamless. flawless. and if it wasn’t? you’d go again. and again.

you finally came to a stop, chest heaving, sweat dripping down your temples. for a second, you allowed yourself to take in the silence—the kind of silence that only came when you had worked yourself to the edge.

then, from behind you—

“again.”

your entire body buzzed with irritation before you even turned around.

of fucking course.

ni-ki.

how long had he been there ?

you should’ve known. of course he was still here. of course he was watching.

you turned, eyes narrowed, only to find him leaning against the doorway with that same smug, unreadable expression—like he had been standing there for who knows how long, just waiting for the right moment to piss you off.

your jaw clenched. “why the hell are you still here?”

“funny,” ni-ki sneered, stepping closer. “i was about to ask you the same thing.”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “i don’t have time for your bullshit today, riki.”

something in him twitched. he hated when you called him that. hated that you said his name like you knew him, like you understood him. you didn’t.

he moved closer, his presence towering over you, suffocating. “you think you’re better than me?” his voice was low, but there was something dark underneath it, something dangerous.

you held his gaze, unflinching. “i think i work harder than you.” you shrugged your nonchalant demeanour pissing me off even more.

his jaw clenched. liar.

“you don’t fucking get it, do you?” he took another step. you didn’t move. “i don’t lose. and i sure as hell don’t lose to you.”

your lips curled into a smirk, something sharp, something lethal. “then beat me.”

his breath hitched.

oh, you had no idea what you were playing with.

it didn’t take long for the tension between you two to snap.

it was in partner drills, the second week of classes. the instructor had paired you and ni-ki together for an advanced technique exercise, and from the second you stepped onto the floor, you could feel the weight of his glare.

he didn’t want to dance with you. he wanted to beat you.

that’s fine. you wanted the same thing.

the music started, and it was war.

every step was a battle. every movement was sharper, every turn a silent dare. the air crackled between you two, neither of you willing to submit, neither of you willing to be the one who couldn’t keep up.

the other students watched in stunned silence.

by the time the routine ended, you were both breathless, faces inches apart, bodies still charged with adrenaline.

and then—ni-ki smirked.

“not bad,” he muttered, voice low.

something in your chest tightened.

because you knew what he really meant.

you impressed him.

but before you could say anything, before you could wipe that cocky look off his face, he was already turning away, his jaw clenched like he regretted acknowledging you at all.

like he hated himself for it.

and from that moment on, it was war.

it became a pattern.

every time you danced, ni-ki was watching. even when you weren’t facing him, you could feel his eyes on you, could hear the way his breathing hitched when you executed something flawlessly.

and he hated it.

he hated that he was starting to memorize the way your body moved.

hated that sometimes, in the middle of a routine, he caught himself admiring you.

so he did what he did best.

he made sure you knew that no matter how good you were, he was better.

snide remarks. smug glances. unnecessary corrections. if you so much as hesitated on a move, he was there with some offhand comment—some little dig to remind you that he wasn’t impressed.

even if he fucking was.

even if, late at night, when he was alone in the studio, he replayed the way you danced in his mind and hated himself for it. he felt like he was loosing it at this point

and so, when he found you alone in the studio that night, still dancing, still perfecting, still refusing to break—

it made something inside him snap.

ni-ki didn’t know when it started. when the hatred turned into something else. when his need to destroy you bled into a need to own you.

he found himself watching you too closely. studying you outside of the studio. noticing the way your hands flexed when you stretched, the way your lips parted when you were exhausted. it wasn’t just about beating you anymore.

it was about breaking you.

making you see him the way he saw you—consuming, inescapable, his.

it was fucking terrifying.

and yet, when he finally had you against the wall, his fingers pressing into your wrist, his breath mixing with yours—he realized something.

you weren’t running.

you were staring right back at him, daring him to do something.

and fuck—he might just do it.

please do not motify my works.

#nishimura riki #riki nishimura x reader #ni ki enhypen #niki imagines #niki x reader #niki x you #niki x y/n #enhypen x you #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x reader #niki enhypen #niki smut

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xo-myloves · 3 days ago

Text

SLASH SUGAR BABY

like he punishes her for talking to a guy her age

So like heavy smut and then fluff

Pleaseeeee

-🧛‍♀️

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑..

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝༞༞༞༞༞

Slash wasn’t the jealous type. At least, that’s what he told himself. He’d been with enough women, seen enough shit, and lived through enough insanity to think he was above that kind of petty bullshit.

But then he saw you. Sitting at the bar, drink in hand, laughing at something some punk-ass kid had just said to you. Some guy your age, flashing you a grin like he had a shot. Like he didn’t realize who the fuck you belonged to.

Slash clenched his jaw, exhaling smoke through his nose like a fucking dragon. His whiskey glass was already sweating in his grip, and he took a long swig, setting it down harder than necessary. The bartender gave him a wary glance, but he ignored it. His eyes were locked on you.

You looked good—too fucking good. That short little dress, the curve of your thigh as you crossed your legs, the way your lips parted just a little when you smiled. He knew exactly what you were doing. Maybe not on purpose, but fuck, did it matter?

The kid leaned in closer, and Slash saw red.

Without thinking, he pushed off from the table, stalking toward you like a predator. The second you saw him, your smile faltered. The guy you were talking to—some floppy-haired, clean-faced dipshit—glanced up and barely had time to react before Slash was in his space.

“You got a fuckin’ problem, kid?” Slash’s voice was low, dangerous.

The guy blinked, looking confused. “Uh… no?”

“Then why the fuck are you talking to my girl?” Slash took a slow drag from his cigarette and exhaled right in the kid’s face.

“I—I didn’t know she was with someone.”

Slash scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah? You blind or just stupid?”

The kid swallowed, suddenly realizing that the dude in front of him wasn’t just some random jealous boyfriend—he was Slash. The Slash. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but then he thought better of it and muttered a quick, “Sorry, man,” before getting the fuck out of there.

Slash watched him leave, shaking his head with a smirk before turning his attention to you.

“The fuck was that?”

You rolled your eyes. “He was just talking to me, it wasn’t a big deal.”

Slash leaned in, pressing one hand against the bar beside you, caging you in. “Not a big deal?” His voice was lower now, almost amused, but you could hear the edge underneath. “You got some little pretty boy makin’ you laugh, and I’m supposed to sit over there and just… what? Pretend I don’t give a fuck?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t give a fuck.”

Slash let out a dark chuckle. “Yeah? Well, guess I’m full of shit, huh?”

You smirked, reaching for your drink, but he caught your wrist before you could take a sip. His fingers were warm, rough, calloused from years of playing.

“You tryin’ to piss me off, baby?” he murmured, his lips just barely brushing your ear.

Your breath hitched, and you tried to play it cool, but fuck, the way his voice dropped like that…

“No,” you said softly.

Slash smirked, brushing his thumb against your pulse point. “Good. ‘Cause you already fucking did.”

He grabbed your drink and took a slow sip himself, keeping his eyes on you the whole time. Then he set it down, pulling you off the barstool with one firm tug.

“C’mon,” he muttered, his voice rough. “You’re done talkin’ to kids. I got better things to do with you.”

you knew you fucked up.

✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢

“Tell me who this pussy fucking belongs too hmm?” Slash gritted his teeth in your ear, pounding into your abused pussy, feelings your core tightening even more, already having came three times, your body was so over stimulated, shaking from the pleasure.

I felt his hand come down to my cheek, making my body ripple, his hips crashing into mine, feeling myself melt into his touch, screaming in pleasure, my nails going to the sheets, pulling them off the bed.

He groans loudly at your scream, his grip on your hips tightening. He starts to thrust into you roughly, not caring if he's hurting you. His face is buried in your neck, biting and sucking hard marks onto your skin. His movements are fast and brutal, like he's trying to punish you.

“F-fuck you..” I mumbled under my breath, knowing it was a mistake the second it let my bruised lips, he laughs harshly, snapping his hips forward again. "Answer the question, baby. Who pussy does this fucking belong too?" He releases one of your wrists to push a hand between your thighs roughly, finding your spot and rubbing hard to take the edge off your pain. His teeth grit together “just be a good slut and cum for daddy again.”

My moans got louder, feeling my legs clamp together, my chest rising, my eyes shutting, my body couldn’t take any more of this much longer, he snapped, thrusting especially hard into you. He bites down hard on your shoulder, sucking and pulling to leave a deep hickey. He can feel you getting closer, your body tightening around his. "Come on, baby."

“M’gonna cum daddy,” I murmured into the bed, my body getting hotter, my body turning red, my pussy clenching around him, milking him for what he’s worth, taking in all of him, "Fuck - that's it." He shoves his hand harder against your clit, feeling you clamp down around him as you come undone. His thrusts become more erratic and desperate, losing control as he feels you fall apart beneath him. "Fucking take it, baby."

My body convulsed around him, my body squirting while liquid all over the bed, leaving the wet spots bigger than before, grunts leaving slash’s mouth, moans leaving mine, his eyes fly open in shock and arousal. He slams into you a few more times before burying himself deep inside, pulsing and shaking as he comes hard.

His ooze costing me completely, feeling his arousal leaking out of me before feeling his body collapses on top of you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His heart is pounding in his ears, his mind racing with the sudden realization of how much he just fucking loves you. He buries his face in your neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

“Maybe you like punishing me..” I murmured into his neck, my arms wrapping around his torso, he stayed silent for a moment, his breath slowly returning to normal. He finally pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his voice low and gruff. "Maybe I fucking do." He kisses you softly this time, a stark contrast to the rough and aggressive sex you just had.

“Y’know you love it,” I smirked kissing his cheek, placing my forehead against his, my fingers tracing his lower back tattoo, he smiled slightly, his thumb brushing over your cheek gently. He knows you're right, but he can't admit it out loud just yet. Instead, he kisses you again, this time with more tenderness and love than he's ever shown before. "Shut up and kiss me, bitch."

He’s back.

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riqomi · 2 hours ago

Text

more than pretend ˖ 박성훈

박성훈 ˖ 𝑓em!r .. g. fake dating. slowburn. romance. fake. relationship. ──── BOOKSHELF (791) tw: kissing

dating park sunghoon was never something you thought would happen.

but when rumors started spreading that he was secretly dating a famous actress, his company needed a distraction. fast. their solution? a fake relationship with someone unexpected—you.

you weren’t famous. you weren’t an idol. you were just an old friend from before his debut, someone the media wouldn’t suspect. that’s why the company thought it would work—no one would see it coming, and the public would buy it. at first, you laughed when his manager suggested it. “you’re joking, right?”

but sunghoon, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke. “it’s not a bad idea. you blinked, turning to him. “wait, you’re actually okay with this?”

he exhaled, leaning back on the couch. “not really. but i don’t want my name attached to that actress forever.” he glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “if you’re uncomfortable, i won’t force you.” you hesitated. the idea of pretending to be his girlfriend, holding hands in public, maybe even… kissing—it was insane.

but sunghoon looked genuinely exhausted. and he was your friend. you sighed. “fine. but just until the rumors die down.” a hint of a smirk played on his lips. “deal.” the first “public date” was awkward.

you sat across from sunghoon at a café, stirring your drink nervously while flashes from cameras outside the window lit up the room. fans whispered. some even pointed, their eyes wide with shock.

you swallowed hard. “they’re really buying this, huh?”

sunghoon stirred his iced americano, looking completely unbothered. “that’s the point.” then, without warning, he reached across the table and took your hand.

your heart nearly stopped.

he didn’t even look at you—just kept sipping his coffee like this was completely normal. but his fingers were warm, his grip firm yet casual, as if he had done this a million times before.

“you—you could’ve warned me,” you muttered, face burning.

his lips twitched in amusement. “you’re my girlfriend, remember?”

you rolled your eyes, but your heart was racing. and the worst part? his hand felt nice.

as the weeks passed, fake dating became second nature.

you got used to sunghoon casually slinging an arm around your shoulders in front of cameras. you got used to the way he’d text you late at night—sometimes to discuss how to make the relationship look real, sometimes just to ask, did you eat?

but sometimes, it felt too real.

like when he pulled you closer in a crowded place, his hand firm on your waist. “just so no one gets suspicious,” he murmured.

or when he draped his jacket over your shoulders on a cold evening, brushing your hair back as he did.

or the way he looked at you during interviews when they asked about you—his gaze softening for just a second before he answered with his usual cool tone.

and then there was the jealousy.

one night, you were out with friends when you got a text.

sunghoon: where are you? you: out with some friends. why? sunghoon: who?

you frowned. why does he care?

later, when he saw a picture of you laughing with another guy, his expression darkened. he didn’t say anything, but that night, when you were supposed to take “fake couple” photos for the media, he pulled you a little too close.

you stared up at him. “sunghoon…?”

he didn’t move. his hand lingered at your waist. his usual cool exterior cracked just a little. and for the first time, it hit you—this wasn’t just pretend anymore. you had planned to end the fake relationship soon. the rumors had died down. everything had worked.

so why did the thought of not being with sunghoon feel… wrong?

one night, after another public appearance, you both sat in his car, the silence heavier than usual. “you know,” you started, gripping your phone tightly, “we don’t have to pretend anymore.” sunghoon’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “yeah.”

silence.

you sighed. “aren’t you… relieved?” he didn’t answer right away. when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than usual.

“is that what you want?”

your breath caught. his tone wasn’t teasing. it wasn’t his usual nonchalant attitude. it was raw. hesitant. you turned to look at him. “sunghoon… what if—”

before you could finish, he leaned in. slowly. carefully. like he was giving you time to stop him.

but you didn’t.

and when his lips finally brushed against yours, you realized—this had never been fake to him.

and maybe… it had never been fake to you either. the next time you went out in public, sunghoon reached for your hand without hesitation.

this time, there were no cameras around.

and this time, it was real.

remember my requests are open, feel free to send some !! hope u guys liked this one. pls reblog it would help a lot <33

#enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen x female reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x black reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen #enha x reader #enha fluff #enha imagines #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader

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digitaldaydreamm · 3 hours ago

Note

in the unclaimed au - does rafe still have a coke problem?

If so, how does reader react to this / help? Or does she also want to do coke lmao?

unspoken claim

rafe x childhood friend!reader

| summary | back when rafe was struggling with his addiction

warnings: mentions of addiction, cocaine, insecurity, angst, cursing, toxic rafe, jealousy, angst angst angst

a/n: good question!! rafe doesn't have a coke problem anymore but here's a little snippet of how their relationship was like when he did

masterlist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

Tannyhill was suffocating lately.

The house was too big, too empty, yet somehow it still felt like the walls were closing in. You moved through the darkened hallways with quiet steps, the weight of the air pressing down on your chest. It smelled like old money and cologne, but beneath it was something sharper—something sour.

Rafe’s door was cracked open, the glow from his bedside lamp spilling into the hallway. You hesitated for a second, but then your fingers wrapped around the handle, pushing it open.

The room was a mess.

Clothes strewn across the floor, drawers left open like he had torn through them looking for something. His nightstand was cluttered with half-empty water bottles, a forgotten pack of cigarettes, and something else—something white, dusting the surface like residue.

And Rafe—

Rafe was sitting on the edge of his bed, his skin slick with sweat. His hands were clasped together, elbows digging into his knees, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against each other.

You exhaled softly, stepping inside.

He didn’t look at you.

“Rafe.”

His fingers twitched, his knee bouncing rapidly. He dragged a hand over his face, inhaling sharply through his nose. “I told you not to come.”

“You didn’t mean that."

His lips parted like he was going to argue, but he just exhaled harshly instead, shaking his head. His gaze flickered to you then, and the way his eyes looked under the dim light—blown wide, almost feverish—made your stomach twist.

“You’re just gonna leave...” he muttered.

The words caught you off guard.

“What?”

He scoffed, his jaw tightening. “You heard me.”

Your throat felt tight. “Rafe, I’m not—”

“Everyone fucking does,” he cut you off. “So don’t sit there and pretend like you won’t.”

There was something ugly in his voice, something bitter and sharp that scraped against your ribs.

You took a step closer, but his foot stopped bouncing. His whole body went rigid, like he was bracing himself for a hit.

Your chest ached.

“I’m not leaving you,” you whispered.

His eyes snapped to yours again, searching, dissecting. He looked so exhausted, but so wired at the same time, like his body couldn’t decide whether it wanted to collapse or explode.

His fingers curled into fists, then relaxed again. “You don’t get it.”

“Then help me understand.”

He exhaled through his nose, tilting his head back slightly. His throat bobbed, muscles flexing. Then, suddenly, he stood up.

You forced yourself not to take a step back.

He didn’t touch you. His presence alone was suffocating, overwhelming.

“You think you can just waltz in here and fix me?” His voice was quiet, but laced with something dangerous.

“That’s not—”

“You can’t,” he cut you off, and this time his voice broke just a little. Just enough for you to hear it.

“You’re not a fucking savior,” he murmured, gaze flickering over your face like he was memorizing it. “You should’ve given up on me a long time ago.”

You shook your head. “I—”

He reached out then, his fingers brushing against your wrist, barely touching, but it still sent a shiver down your spine.

Rafe’s stare was unblinking, almost too still, but you could see the way his fingers twitched at his sides. Like he was holding something in.

You should’ve expected the explosion when it came.

“You know what?” His voice was quieter now, but somehow worse. “Maybe you should go.”

Your stomach dropped. “What—”

“No, really,” he scoffed, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Maybe you should stop wasting your fucking time here and go back to him.”

Your brows furrowed. “Rafe, what the hell are you talking about?”

“You think I don’t see it?” His voice was rising now, sharp and jagged, like a blade. “You think I don’t fucking notice when you’re always with Topper now?”

You took a step back before you could stop yourself, and that—that made something in his expression shift.

“You’re scared of me,” he muttered, more to himself than you. “I fucking knew it.”

“Rafe, I’m not scared of you.”

“Then why are you acting like it?” His voice cracked, his breath coming heavier.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold your ground. “I don’t know what you think is going on, but—”

“You’ve been with him more than me.” His chest rose and fell in quick bursts. “Every time I call, you’re busy. Every time I look for you, you’re with him.”

“That’s not true—”

“Then where were you last night?”

Your breath hitched.

Rafe let out a dry laugh, but it didn’t sound amused. It sounded wrecked.

“Yeah,” he murmured, shaking his head. “That’s what I thought.”

You exhaled sharply. “I was home.”

“With him.”

“No, Rafe!” Your voice came out more desperate than you intended. “I wasn’t with him. I wasn’t—”

“But you could’ve been.” His eyes were wild now, dark and unreadable. “You want to be.”

Your stomach churned. “That’s not true.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, kid,” he sneered, but it wasn’t playful. It was cold. “Just fucking admit it.”

Your heart pounded. “There’s nothing to admit.”

His jaw clenched. Then, just like that—

His hand shot out, grabbing the lamp off his nightstand, and before you could even react, he threw it.

It hit the wall with a sharp crack, glass shattering, the light flickering once before going out completely. The room plunged into partial darkness, but you could still see the way his chest heaved, his knuckles white from how hard his fists were clenched.

Your breath came fast, heart slamming against your ribs.

He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling shakily before his fingers curled into his hair, tugging hard. “Fuck.”

You didn’t move.

For a second, neither did he.

Then, in one sharp motion, he swept an arm across his nightstand, sending everything crashing to the floor—bottles, cigarettes, that white residue smearing across the hardwood like dust.

You flinched. He noticed.

And for a moment, something in his expression cracked.

But he didn’t apologize.

He just stared at you, something dark and almost desperate behind his eyes, like he wanted to break something else.

Maybe even himself.

“You should’ve left,” he muttered, voice raw.

But you didn’t.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #obx #outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x childhood friend!reader #obx kooks #obx pogues #rafe #rafe outer banks

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mrderofcr0ws · 6 hours ago

Text

HEADLOCK

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

that was the name written on a gravestone in brooklyn with no body below it since the sergeant had been pronounced dead in 1945.

the body that once belonged to that name was now hydra's most prized possession— but the winter soldier was not the only danger locked away down in the remote siberian facility. you were there, too. a monster made from horrors most refused to believe could be real.

two trained killing machines.

one bound to commands and trigger words.

the other bound to instinct and bloodlust.

it had been a long time since either of you had seen the sun. you could get out with his help in the brief, painful moments of clarity he had. when he answered to that long forgotten name, you could escape together.

but bucky was often buried under that brooklyn headstone-and the winter soldier who slept in the bunk below you nearly every night was a danger to even you.

this is a fic that explores bucky's time in hydra. the content warnings are as follows: torture, manipulation, angst, pain, psychological horror, graphic descriptions and language, poetic comparisons to cannibalism, hurt with minimal comfort at times, stockholm syndrome, smut, degrading, power imbalance, canon divergence. 18+ fic.

bucky x fem!reader (you have a given name in this fic for the sake of making writing easier, but it will be used sparingly)

word count: idk i write on tumblr. (roughly edited)

<- previous part

PART SIX —

— A STRANGER & AN UNEXPECTED SMILE

you were back in chains and a muzzle.

the difference this time was that you asked for them.

nick pushed you down the long, bright hallways with no windows in a wheelchair. you were underground where no sunlight could reach you. the handcuffs covered both your fists entirely, a fairly heavy metal block on your lap. the muzzle was only your mask.

you feared you’d kill him before he could explain it all.

“are you sure you want to do this?” nick asked as you rounded the corner. he stopped at the first door and looked down at you.

“i’ve waited forty years for this,” you said looking up at him. “i’m sure.”

“well,” nick said, giving you a once over. “you don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

“i think im closer to twenty-eight, actually.” you said.

he smiled at you and even though your mask covered it, you smiled, too.

how quickly it faded away…

the lights in the room were off except for a lamp on the bedside table. the warm orange light shined across half of him. with his chest wrapped in bandages, he was looking about as bad as you. he struggled to sit up and you savored the sound of his labored, tight breaths.

“i will be right here.” nick said, taking a seat in the corner of the room. he waved his hand towards the two of you. “but pretend im not.”

the silence in the room was suffocating.

facing him now, you were so tongue tied that it was impossible to pick what you wanted to say first. you were so angry— so devastated that it made you tremble.

“there is nothing i can say to ease your pain,” nikta began. he spoke in russian and his voice was small in his throat for a man who you had always known to be larger than life. “i feel as though it would be more of an insult to try and apologize to you for it.”

“i’m not here for an apology because that would require me having to forgive you— and i will never do that.” you spat. your mask covered most of your face but disgust was visible in your eyes.

“fair enough.” nikta said.

“fair enough…” you muttered under your breath. you could feel your blood begin to boil. “you have the nerve to say ‘fair enough’?”

“i didn’t mean to cause offense. i only meant i understand.” he said with a small tip of his head. “new slang is always the hardest for you two to keep up with, isn’t it?”

you uncurled your hands from within the heavy box cuffs around them. you could feel how sweaty they had become. you felt hot and cold all at once. sad and mad. brazen and cowardice.

“why did you shoot at him?” you asked softly. that was as good a place to start as any.

“why wouldn’t i have tried to shoot him? if i hadn’t, he would have shot on nick and if he did that, this whole thing never would have happened.” nikta said, gesturing between the two of you.

“karov is dead.” you told him. you wondered if it would hurt him at all.

it did not.

“good,” nikta said with a low scoff. “i will not sit here and pretend that i am a saint, fangs, but i have a better chance of seeing any kind of heaven before he does.”

“don’t call me that.” you said though your teeth.

he held up his hands in surrender.

“why did you do it?”

the question was hard to ask— and it was hard to hear. nikita’s face pinched and you did your best from keeping yourself from crying. you bit your lips hard in order not to feel them tremble.

“why me?” you asked when he said nothing. “why did you do this to me? why did you choose me?”

“i had a mission. simple as that. i was charged with finding a suitable candidate for weapon-v.” nikta said outright with little patience. “you weren’t the first girl that i studied from afar. you were the fifth.”

your stomach twisted and you fought to swallow. “what happened to the those girls?”

nikta sighed reluctantly, “i killed them.”

“why didn’t you kill me?” you asked in a whisper.

“you bit me. many, many times. you were the only one that bit me and that is what set you apart.” nikta said with a shrug.

“i bit you because you raped me.” it was hard to say the word. saying it made it feel real and you didn’t want it to be real. “was that what you did to the other girls, too?”

nikta shook his head, “you won’t like my answer. ask a different question.”

“i want to know.” you insisted, your bows pinching tight together.

“what i did to you in that field was wrong and it is something i can never apologize for, but the reason i did what i did was in the hope that if anyone else were to touch you once i brought you to hydra, that you would have been prepared for it.”

“you were the only girl i did that to, isla, and i really am sorry for it.” nikta said softly.

“don’t say her name.” you whispered, glaring at him with tears brimming on your lashes. “you don’t get to say her name. you killed her.”

nikta said nothing.

your blood burned like acid in your veins. you didn’t want him to apologize. it only made it worse. his answers only made it all worse— but you wanted the truth no matter how much it hurt.

“tell me about project winter solstice.” you said.

nikta took a long, deep breath. you could see the thoughts running through his mind.

for the first time, he looked utterly human.

and you hated it.

“twenty five years ago, doctor armin zola proposed the idea of breeding you and the winter soldier to see what the outcome would be. would you have super children? would those children inherit the powers and enhancements given to you and the soldier? would they be born ready to follow orders?”

“when i was told about the idea, i could see how much evil had infected each and everyone of us. i contacted shield and sent the project file to them in the hopes that something could be done to stop it.”

“it was too hard to find a way to get the two of you out, so i did what i could to limit the strain the project would place upon the two of you.” nikta closed his eyes and grimaced at what he saw when he did.

“the plan was to hardwire you and the soldier with a new set of trigger words that, when said, would ensure that you two procreated. almost like a compulsion. there were talks of creating a sex pollen. talks of trying to induce a heat cycle into human nature that mimicked animals in the wild.”

“i argued against those idea and i told the board that if this was going to work and work well for us, that the best way would be for it to happen naturally between the two of you. it was no secret to anyone that you and the winter soldier shared a bed. how could you not? two caged animals, what else did you do pass the time?”

“for some reason, some sliver of a miracle, the board sided with my idea— but not entirely.” nikta said. he opened his eyes and frowned at you. “the board agreed with zola that you could not know these things were happening. if you knew that you were pregnant and laboring babies, you wouldn’t be able to do your job.”

“you got pregnant in 1961 for the first time three years after project winter solstice began. you then got pregnant again in 1963. and the last time was in 1966. in the beginning, they kept you sedated. groggy. once you began showing, in order to not distress the winter soldier, they put you somewhere by yourself. and in order not to distress you when you finally realized your belly was round and heavy, they put you to sleep. they put you into a coma, fed you through tubes, and let the babies come to full term within you while you were sleeping.”

“zola would wake you up once it was time to deliver and he took the babies away right after. the doctors would clean you up and then they would attempt to wipe your mind of any lingering evidence that you had been pregnant at all. they would keep you heavily sedated until your body healed and then they would freeze you for a couple years in order to prolong the gaps in your memory.”

even when you heard it outright, it was almost entirely impossible to believe.

it didn’t feel real.

“and…and what would he be doing? where would winter be?” you asked in a whisper.

“what he always does,” nikta said with a small shake of his head. “they sent him out to kill.”

“your absence disturbed him but it was for the best that neither of you saw much of each other during those times. they put you to sleep and they would break into his mind anytime he tried to look for you.”

“did he know?” you asked. your hands were shaking and it was hard to draw breath in your mask. “did winter ever know that i was pregnant?”

“i cannot say for sure. he is not my project and i do not fully understand how it is he works— but my personal belief is yes. with how well in tune the two of you are, i believe he knows but i don’t know if he understands completely what it means. zola and the doctors messed with his mind during those times, too. real bad.”

you said nothing.

you had no idea what to say.

more than ever before, you wanted to see him.

you wanted to sit on the floor of your cell and talk to him in whispers that no one else would hear.

“you said 1966 was the last time i was…pregnant.” you struggled to say the word. it felt foreign on your tongue. “its 1983. that’s seventeen years. why have there been no more children?”

you didn’t want more children.

you were glad to hear it was a small enough number.

but it made you uneasy to do the math and see such a large number of years had passed with no child born.

“winter solstice was put to a stand still in 1966 when the last child you had was stolen from the facility.” nikta said.

“with such a breech in security and a rat on the inside, zola and the head of directors agreed to put a pin in the project. you’ve been on birth control for the last seventeen years that they inject you with each time you wake up.” he explained.

panic shot through you like lightning. “where is the child now? who took it?”

nikta smiled at you and it made you recoil.

“i took the baby,” nikta said softly. he had the guiltiest look on his face and shook his head, recalling the memory as if he could picture holding the small baby right now. “you labored a girl and i…i couldn’t stomach it any longer. when zola handed me the baby, i knew i needed to get her out. i knew i needed to put a stop to this and get both you and james barnes out.”

“you— you took the baby?” you asked, shaking your head. you closed your eyes and tried to pull your hands free from the cuffs. you wanted to chew on your nails. you wanted to scratch at your face and pull at your hair. “you took…you took her? what did you do to her? where…where is the baby now?” you asked, tears slipping down your face.

of all people in the world, he was the last person you would’ve ever trusted with someone as precious as a baby.

a baby that had come from you of all things.

“i sent her to shield and shield sent her to family.” nikta said. he looked over at nick. “isn’t that right? the girl is safe, isn’t she?”

“family?” you repeated the word in english. you looked over at nick and shook your head at the two of them. “what family?”

nick sighed as he stood up. he looked over at nikta and said, “you tell her about the boys. i have a call to make.”

fear unlike anything you had ever known rushed through you like hot water— but nick placed his hand on your shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze.

you swallowed down your worry.

once he left, nikta struggled to reach something on the table by his bedside. you craned your neck to see as he opened up a set of folders.

“it’s called project empire,” nikta said as he forced himself to get up. “and its goal is to create the most cutthroat and lethal generals hydra has ever seen.”

he grunted as he walked across the room to take the chair nick had been sitting on. he pulled it up beside you and you tensed as he neared. he opened the folder and held it out for you to see.

inside you saw pictures of two boys— two men.

two nearly grown men.

your brows drew together and you looked up at nikta.

he frowned at you and introduced you to the two men that were blood of your blood and bone of your bone. “their names are aurelius and caracalla. they are named after roman emperors to instill the idea that they are burdened with divine righteousness to any and all who hear their names.”

“aurelius is your eldest. caracalla is your second.” nikta said, pointing each one of them out.

it was impossible to understand.

the pictures of them made it harder to accept— to believe.

they weren’t babies.

they weren’t toddlers.

when you had been told you labored babies, that is what you pictured. you pictured drool-stains and spit up. you pictured ceaseless crying and trembling little lips. you pictured snot-nosed toddlers with sticky hands and infectious laughter that would’ve made even the stoic winter soldier smile…

these were men.

grown men.

“how old are they?” you asked in a whisper.

“aurelius is twenty-two. caracalla just turned twenty.” nikta told you gently. “they’ve never been in cryo. they’ve aged each year of their lives and have lived floors below you and the winter soldier since the day they were born.”

you looked at the pictures of those men and you wanted them to mean nothing. you wanted them to be nothing but faces in pictures and names written in ink on a page.

but you could see him.

you could see winter in their faces.

aurelius could’ve been his carbon copy. even though the photo of him was black and white, you could see his light, beautiful eyes— eyes that he had inherited from no one other than his father.

he looked just like bucky.

you wanted to reach out and touch the photo of caracalla. it made your eyes well with tears. he looked like his father, too, but you knew those stubborn brows. they were the same ones that pinched and raised on your own face.

it was easy to see the resemblance.

but it was hard to believe they were real.

“how recent are these pictures?” you asked. you looked up at nikta.

“fairly recent.” he said softly. “i brought them with me when we left siberia so you could see for yourself what they look like.”

your hands ached to hold those photos of them even though you had no desire to in your chest.

“are they like us?” you asked. you bit your lip under your mask and took a slow deep breath. “did hydra achieve what they wished to with them?”

“they have super soldier DNA, yes, but none of your enhancements carried on to any of them. except for caracalla, i believe. it’s speculated that he has a strong sense of smell like you and can see farther than most.” nikta said. he glanced at you. “if it makes you feel better, they’ve never been put under any surgeries and have no modifications.”

that did make you feel better.

to know the two of them were untouched by scalpels and kept from the pain of mutilation, it relieved you.

“have they been dispatched?” you asked.

“numerous times. aurelius has eighteen confirmed kills. his weapon of choice is a sniper. some apples don’t fall far from their trees, it seems.” nikta said. he looked down at the photo of caracalla and tipped his head. “caracalla has seven confirmed kills but he is…he is so unimaginably smart. truthfully, he surpasses any set expectation for a lab rat like him who has been in captivity his whole life.”

“don’t call him that.” you said. you frowned underneath your mask as a sadness washed over you. “he’s not a lab rat.”

nikta smiled sympathetically. “you are all lab rats.”

you said nothing.

it filled you with guilt to see the boys in those pictures. you had too many questions you didn’t know how to ask.

“do they know each other?” you asked softly. you hoped they weren’t alone.

“yes,” nikta said with a small smile. “they know that they are brothers and they’re quite the sarcastic duo.”

you couldn’t help but smile. “sarcastic?”

“unbelievably so.” nikta nodded.

“do they know who winter and i are?” you asked.

nikta seemed to hesitate. “caracalla…he figured it out when he was younger. he’s a cyber wizard that kid and when the guards weren’t paying attention to him on the computers, he got into the classified files and read everything on the two of you. photographic memory. he can remember anything he sees. it’s truly remarkable. he told aurelius but aurelius refuses to accept the truth.”

all you could manage was a nod.

“have they ever seen us?” you asked. you looked at the pictures of them in the folder and sighed. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen them before.”

“they watch the two of you spar all the time.” nikta told you softly. “they sit in the box above the arena and watch. hydra believes there is no reason for them not to. they know who you are and they know that they must be better than the best— and the best hydra has are you and the winter soldier.”

it made you feel…

you didn’t have the words.

the last time you sparred on the mat the winter had nearly choked you to death on orders from those above— and to know that those two were there… that they had watched.

it was something unexplainable.

yours boys knew you — though one was not keen on the idea of you — but you didn’t know them.

and they watched you.

perhaps one of them rooted for you.

perhaps one of them betted against you.

you tried not to care.

but feeling kept creeping in like a cold breeze. a whisper of something deeper— something truly unyielding.

the door to the room opened and nick came back in. he seemed surprised to see you and nikta sitting so close, but he said nothing. he only nodded towards the ex-hydra officer.

“your daughter’s name is clover.” nikta told you. he stood up slowly and grunted as he did. “she’s lived her whole life untouched by hydra. she’s a real sweetheart. looks just like the two of you.”

“who has been taking care of her if not you?” you asked, watching as he placed down the folders pertaining to project empire.

“that would be someone she refers to as poppy.” nick said from behind you. “and she and poppy have been waiting a real long time for us to find you.”

your brows pinched tight together and you shook your head. “she…she knows about me?”

“you and sergeant barnes, yes.” nick said with a small smile. “and she’s eager to meet you.”

you blinked. “what? meet me? meet me when?”

nick looked at his watch. “she’s already here so right now, actually.”

“i can’t— no,” you said, shaking your head over and over again. “i can’t meet her.”

“you should.” nikta said. he was back in bed, laying down with his eyes closed. “you’d regret it the whole of your life if you didn’t because she’s been waiting the whole of hers to meet you.”

“shield doesn’t like lies, miss constantinescu. we like secrets. it just so happens that people like clover are privy to those secrets— because she is one herself.”nick said as he kneeled beside you. he gave your shoulder a soft pat. “no one on either side has lied to your children about who you are. about who sergeant barnes is. that goes for this girl and those boys still locked away.”

“how do i face her when i did not know she existed until today?” you asked in a voice far too soft. guilty tears brimmed on your lashes.

nick smiled, “you face her bravely.”

— ☆ —

you didn’t know what to do with your hands.

sitting alone in a lounge with the soft hum of 40’s music playing in the background, you were sweating. free of cuffs and free of a muzzle, you sat patiently. the wound on your stomach ached— but nothing was worse than how hard your heart was racing.

you were about to reach up and pull it out your chest just to make it stop when the door opened.

her head popped into the room— and she was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in your life.

clover toyed with the sleeves of her cardigan as she made her way over to you with an unsure wobble in her step. she was so big but so, so young. a lanky little thing with long dark hair and eyes like yours. her cheeks were flush and she kept bringing her hand to her mouth only to put it back at her side.

all you could do was stare.

and she was trembling like a leaf.

you thought that seeing her would be like seeing a stranger. you had not known that she existed until today. you had not a single memory of her. you’d say hello and then say goodbye, remaining a pair of strangers who shared the same blood. the same eyes.

you thought it would be nothing.

she was a stranger.

she was your baby.

and some deep, untapped damn of love burst at the sight of her chewing on her nails in front of you.

you forced yourself to your feet despite the way your wound screamed and you took her into your arms. she clung to you instantly, her fingers digging into your shoulders, grasping the fabric of your shirt. the sound of her cries brought tears to your own eyes that you could not have fought away even if you wanted to.

once she was in your arms, it all came pouring out.

you covered her in kisses. the whole of her face. her forehead. her cheeks. her chin. her nose. you couldn’t get enough of her. it was like being high— and the sound of her laughter was unlike anything in the world had ever been before.

you cupped her face in your hands and couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you. “look at how beautiful you are.”

“i’ve seen so many pictures of you,” she whispered, her lips trembling. she brought her hands up to her mouth and tried to hide it. she had the warmest voice you’d ever heard. “you— you’re really tall.”

“me? tall? you’re much taller than i thought you’d be. you’re a little bean sprout!” you said with a wide-eyed expression. she was nearly to the tip of your chin.

“i can see where i get it from.” she said with a giggle that sounded so much like yours.

you smiled wider than you had ever smiled before.

a small beat of silence fell over the two of you and it made your heart lurch. the last thing you wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable— to scare her. it felt like walking on glass. like you needed to be the most careful you had ever been.

you sat down with her and for a moment, all you could do was stare at her.

“so,” you said, rubbing your hands on your lap. “how are you?”

“oh,” clover said with an awkward smile. she toyed with the sleeves of her cardigan and nodded once. twice. “i’m— yeah, i’m good. i’m studying right now for my midterms.”

“oh,” your brows drew together. what the hell was her midterms? “wow. that’s— yeah. good job! work hard at that so you can…succeed.”

“it’s a test,” she whispered with a small, nervous laugh. “a big test. i’m trying really hard to get into a good college so i need my grades to be good.”

“smart, are you?” you asked.

she shrugged. “a little, yeah.”

silence fell over the both of you again and you chewed on your lip. you tried so hard to think of anything to say but you didn’t know how to speak to someone who was not him—and it didn’t help that you were from a different time. you still had very little idea of what the world was like today.

“listen,” you said as you scooted the smallest bit closer. “i’m…i’m sorry. i know this is…it’s not…it’s really hard and i’m sorry.”

her lips trembled and her eyes welled with tears she refused to let fall. shaking her head, she tried to assure you it was okay. she reached for your hand but she stopped herself.

you took ahold of her hands and brought them to your lips, kissing them softly.

“i’m just so happy to see you.” she whispered. she squeezed your hands and leaned towards you as if there was some tangled string pulling you together. “i’ve wanted to meet you for so long…”

“i’m sorry,” you murmured into her hair, wrapping your arms around her. you kissed the top of her head. “i am truly, truly sorry.”

“you’re here now,” clover said softly. with her head resting on your chest, she could hear the thrum of your heart— a sound she had once been so familiar with. “you’re here right now and that’s all that matters to me.”

you were changed.

down to the marrow of your bones, you had changed in a single instant.

you held the world in your arms. you held the most valuable thing to live and breathe. you held the very thing you would kill for no matter what it took.

this is why the red room sterilized their assassins.

you would die before a hair on her head was ruffled out of place.

you knew nothing about her and yet you knew every single facet of her. you had made her. her bones. her flesh. her heart. you had. she’s was yours. apart of you— and that part could not be denied.

it was an overwhelming and unrelenting sense of love that poured and poured and poured free as you cradled her.

she was nearly grown— but she was your baby.

and you knew her.

you knew her by touch alone.

you would have been able to pick her in a crowd with your eyes closed.

she was yours.

and you learned everything about her in the time that you had together on that sofa.

she was seventeen years old. she attended a private high school where she ranked third in her class. she enjoyed solving mysteries and she played the piano. she wanted to go to college to study criminology. she had grown up under shield’s protection and she was a little agent in the making. she wanted to work as one when she got older.

knowing that made part of you nervous — you wanted her safe always — but it made you smile seeing the way her eyes lit up at the idea of being able to make the world a safer place. a better place.

“you’re a very remarkable young woman, clover.” you said, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. she’d gotten those pretty little ears from him. they were unmistakably his.

she beamed with the sweetest smile you had ever seen. “i’m glad you think so. i’ve tried really hard to learn a lot so that when we met, you’d be impressed.”

your heart ached— and you couldn’t tell if it was a good feeling or a bad one.

perfectly bittersweet.

“i am throughly impressed,” you said with a soft smile. you brushed your fingers along her cheek and met her eyes. “i wish i had more to say and i wish i could understand what the heck a skateboard really is and how you travel on it, but you amaze me. you are…you are truly the best thing that has happened to me in a long, long time and i wish that we had more time.”

clover smiled anxiously at you. at the idea that this would all go away so soon. “we have so much time. we have — like — all the time ever in the world now.” she was trying to convince you, to cling to you as tight as you wanted to cling to her. “you don’t ever have to go back to that place. you can stay with me.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “you are such a sweet little thing but i don’t think that your guardian would take kindly to someone like me living under their roof and eating all their food.”

it was the best you could come up with to let her down easy— but it broke your heart.

“did they not tell you?” clover asked. she smiled at you and let out a soft laugh. “oh, gosh, you’re in for a real shocker with this one, mama.”

mama.

it felt like lightening in your veins to hear that name.

a rush you’d never imagined possible.

a name you’d never thought you’d be called.

a small, teeny tiny part of you hoped she’d said it again and again and again.

“well, go on then.” you said with a small flick of your head. “deliver the news.”

“i live here in new york with auntie becca and uncle dimitri!” clover said, throwing up her hands like it was some big surprise.

you smiled because she did but those names meant nothing. “oh!” you blinked at her for a moment and tried your best to nod. “and…auntie is…?”

she flushed a soft shade of pink. she must’ve forgotten that you knew very little of anything at all. “auntie becca is my father’s sister and uncle dimitri is your bother, mama.”

your expression dropped.

you closed your eyes and let your head dip down. you couldn’t hold it up. you could hardly sit straight at all as your chest heaved— and the cries that escaped you were so foreign.

your brother was alive after all this time.

your daughter was surrounded by family.

and not just your family, either.

bucky’s too.

“are you okay?” clover asked softly, frowning as she watched you cry. she scooted closer and tried her best to console you.

“i am just so…” you sighed and wiped your face, unable to truly find the words. you looked at her and couldn’t help but let out a soft, broken sob. “i am so, so, so grateful to know that there is good in this world and that you live in it. that my brother still does. that his sister does.”

“you have all had each other and that just…god, sweetheart, you have no idea how happy it makes me to know.” you whispered.

clover smiled at you. you softened as she wiped off your cheeks with her sleeves. “i’m happy that you’re happy. i was really worried that you…” she stopped.

“that i what?” you asked.

“i was worried that you wouldn’t like me very much…” clover admitted in a voice almost too soft to hear.

your heart shattered.

“oh, my gosh,” you cried. you cupped her face in your hands and shook your head as tears rushed down your cheeks. “never, baby. not ever. are you kidding me? you are— you…oh, my love.” you kissed her face and clutched her close to you, embracing her as she nuzzled into the warmth of you and wept softly.

“you are my baby,” you whispered into the roots of her hair. “you are mine and nothing in this world could take that away. they tried and they failed because you are mine, sweet girl. and i could never feel anything for you but love.”

clover wept like a baby. red-faced and inconsolable. making a mess of your shirt and sniffling as she cried.

this is what you pictured.

and no matter how old she was now or how old she grew to be, she was still your baby.

— ☆ —

it had been a week of laughter, tears, and everything in between as you spent time recovering from the gunshot wound. it was a harder injury to heal from that you wished it to be, but you could stand on your own without feeling like you were wounding yourself all over again. it would be a long time until you could run and jump and bend over with ease— but you didn’t care.

the only thing that you cared about when the sun was up was her.

clover would come visit you every day once she got out of school. sometimes she would come by herself and other times she brought her uncle with her.

your brother was an old man.

he was not the dark haired boy you could recall bits and pieces of anymore. he was old and grey and wrinkly. being in his 60’s, your little brother was no so little anymore— and seeing dimitri again was as hard as meeting yourself again for the first time.

it was slow coming and hazy until it wasn’t— until you were recalling things you couldn’t imagine you’d forgotten at all.

rebecca barnes passed on her well wishes through your daughter but she did not come to visit you. she couldn’t. it was too hard for her and you understood why.

for the first time in 40 years, you felt human.

you felt alive.

you felt happy.

but each night was hard.

alone in your room with no one but yourself, it was war. you had never been so happy and yet you cried and cried and cried because it all felt incomplete.

he was not with you.

the boys were not with you.

and you couldn’t be truly at peace until they were.

but you didn’t know how to be alone with yourself and in order for you to heal — in order for you to take your next steps forward — you needed to at least learn how to do that.

“i don’t know,” nick said with a hesitant shake of his head. “i don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“it is,” you said. you frowned at him. “it’s safest for everyone this way. they won’t know where i am and i will be alone for the first time in my second life— and that’s a good thing.”

nick turned his head away.

he’d never admit it but he had grown fond of you.

and now you were shipping yourself away.

clover didn’t find it easy to understand. she cried when you told her and it made it all so much harder than you ever could’ve imagined it being.

“i just got you, mama. you can’t go.” she sobbed.

“it’s not forever.” you said as you wiped her tears away. “i just…i need a little time to get everything sorted up here.” you tapped your temple and tried to smile at her.

“promise me that you’ll come back.” clover said, sticking out her pinky.

you weren’t very sure what to do with that.

you held out yours, too, and you softened as she linked your pinkies together.

a promise.

a pinky promise— and you’d never break something as cute as that.

“i promise.” you whispered.

she hugged you and you savored each and every second she clung to you. you kissed the top of her head over and over and memorized the way she smelled. you burned the image of her smile into your memory. each line and angle on her face. her ears. her long dark hair.

and that sweet little laugh.

you really did love her.

you just didn’t know how to say those three words the right way.

so you didn’t.

it was something you regretted when she left— but the next time you saw her, it would be the start of something new.

you would never leave her side again because you had made your decision.

you would join shield.

one day.

for now, you would be sent somewhere hydra could never touch you and get help from professionals to rebuild what was broken inside you. you were going somewhere you could be alone to grieve, to cry, to remember, and to restart.

“i’ll miss you.” you said from where you sat strapped in handcuffs in the back of the heavy armored truck.

nick rolled his eyes at you, hanging on the door as he watched the last of the agents assigned to escort you to the ocean prison get into the truck.

“you be easy, isla.” nick said with a small smile.

you smiled back at him. “keep an eye on my kid?”

nick tapped his sunglasses where his good eye was and tipped his head. “i always do.”

when he shut the door, it didn’t feel like a sentencing.

it didn’t feel like you were trapped.

it didn’t feel like you were damned any longer.

the handcuffs were precautionary. a safety measure for you and others. you did not resent them. you did not resent any of what was to come because you had made the choice yourself.

you wanted a life.

a real one with laughter and lazy sundays.

you wanted to grow up and watch your daughter grow up, too.

and maybe one day when the wounds faded into scars, you’d find the courage and strength to find yours boys and free them, too.

all three of them.

— ☆ —

the trucks movements and the small amount of pain medicine given to you lulled you little by little as the minutes turned into hours. you rested your head back against the metal wall and let your eyes fall closed.

how could you ever be bored again when there was so much to think about?

you thought about your daughter.

you thought about the work it would take to be whole and how you were ready to face each obstacle in your way in order to be.

you thought about your brother.

you thought about where you would live with clover once you could— if she’d like that.

and you smiled to yourself because you knew that she would.

thundered rumbled from above but it wasn’t raining.

you opened your eyes and looked up.

the roof came down.

the muted buzz of bullets spraying through the silencer of his gun and the hard, gruesome sound of them hitting their targets filled the truck— and so did the smell of blood.

you looked up in horror as he stood before you, his metal arm gleaming in the spotlight that the hole in the roof of the truck had created.

“miss me?”

hello, friends. i hope you all enjoyed this update of headlock! it was a shorter one than the last because the previous one was so long. besides, it’s main goal was to sort of cover the lore of the reader and bucky’s kids— which i hope everyone is vibing with. (i really love it and i have so much planned). also, i’d like to make it clear that you are all entitled to imagine aurelius and caracalla in whatever way you want. i chose two actors who i think resemble sebastian stan to hit closer to home, but you can fancast them as whoever you’d like! i left clover’s fc blank for you all as of right now because she’s supposed to look like isla and isla is your character :3

maybe one day i’ll post my personal fc of her but for now, it is your turn to play pretend and be the casting director of your dreams!!!

see you guys in the next update.

taglist: @homiesexual-or-homosexual @carbonnite-copy @strangunddurm @normanreedus-blog @valckenaux @buckyswife106 @itsmadamehydra

#HEADLOCK bucky barnes #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier fanfiction #bucky #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mrderofcr0ws

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0viraptoraskblog · 2 days ago

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What BTD/TPOF characters I think would be cat or dog people

I’ve had this in my notes for a while, so why not share it?

Keep in mind these are just my opinions, and I didn’t even think very hard about it. It’s just for fun. Feel free to let me know if you have different thoughts though :)

I’m just gonna go down the line:

Rire- He gives me major cat person vibes. I think he likes their elegance, and how they aren’t blindly obedient to humans like dogs (in his words). All of earths creatures are lesser beings, of course, but I think he’d have a little respect for cats. I can see him sitting and drinking tea/reading with a cat lounging on the back of his chair.

Sano- doesn’t really love either one, and would definitely pick centipedes if given the choice. I think he’d appreciate the fact that cats are independent, and they match his demeanor more, but he does have a soft spot for Shaun— who is more like a dog. This one could be 50/50.

Akira- It’s already confirmed that Akira is an animal person, so I think he’d like both. I feel like his extroverted personality would be more fitting for a dog though.

Strade- The one exception, because clearly, he’s a fox person. (If I had to pick: I know he’s kind of indifferent to animals, but I feel that dogs might be better. He just likes that they’re friendly, and he often sees neighbors walking their dogs, so he interacts with them much more than he ever has with cats.)

Ren- I think Ren would be a cat person actually. I think he’d like dogs, but the cuddly nature of cats would be nicer in his mind. I feel like he wouldn’t really consider getting one, he’s never thought of having a pet except you, but if/once he did, they would be inseparable. I think a cat would help him recover from his loneliness if he was on a good path.

Lawrence- Not great with animals, as we know, but I think cats are definitely the better choice. Dogs can be loud and jumpy, and those constant sudden moves might put him on edge if he’s around a dog too long. Especially the ones that go nuts every time someone walks by the door— not Law’s thing. I think he’d appreciate how cats are independent and calm by comparison (in most cases.)

Vincent- Dog person. I know he’s technically part canine himself, but even without that, it just feels right. I think he’s the type of person to just get along with dogs, probably more than he does with people. It’s a simpler connection, and yet it feels stronger (and more honest) than with people, who might not understand him.

Farz- He likes animals, so I know he’d be okay with both, but I actually think cats might be better. If we take his werewolf bf out of the mix, I think he’d like cats because they’re generally quieter- and not just in the sense of noise; he sees them as more ‘thoughtful’ if that makes sense. (I’m not really solid on this one, because I think he’d go well with any animal so long as they’re friendly. Birds especially)

Cain- I think he’d be a cat person. Similarly to Rire, he likes the idea of having cats. They’re more elegant than dogs. I think he sees them with a little respect, at least- wasn’t he around when people used to worship cats? I don’t know, I don’t have much to say on this one.

Damien- I haven’t analyzed his character very much, I’ll be honest, but I think he’d like dogs. Probably one of the “family” dog breeds, like a golden retriever or something. I feel like outside of his duties in game, he prioritizes relationships— including the companionship of his pet.

Ashe- I think cats match Ashe’s personality pretty well. They both tend to keep to themselves and like naps. I think they’d pretend to be indifferent about the cat at first, but then you turn around and they’re cuddled up together. They don’t know how, it just happened.

Derek- I honestly don’t know. I don’t think he’d be good around animals at all. For the sake of this post though, I’m gonna have to say dogs. He’d like a pet that he can train and that will listen to him. I think he’d only start to get attached once they form a bond, meaning the dog responds to him well. He’d probably pay for the training that teaches it to attack on command, just to have another form of intimidation or something. I think he’d start to care for it like a companion too, after a while, but he’d never admit it. (note on Derek- I think he’d have something like a German Shepard or a Doberman for what I described earlier, or instead he could have one of those tiny purebred dog breeds that only rich people can afford. Idk, I’m torn)

Celia- If I can’t say mouse, then cat person. I do think she’d enjoy having a pet with more obedience, but I think she’d chose the cleanliness of cats over dogs. Again, I think she’d like their independence because she wouldn’t have to ‘babysit’ it 24/7. It doesn’t need to be let outside every few hours. And hey, you can still train a cat if you try.

Mason- Dog person. I don’t see him ever having a pet, since he hunts *everything*, but maybe in another universe he has a hunting dog? Plus, I think his somewhat old fashioned off-the-grid lifestyle is more suited for a dog as well. He seems like the type to call them ‘man’s best friend’ and such.

Komodo- I headcanon that he’s a major reptile person, hence why he came up with their nicknames. I think he’d like both cats and dogs. He thinks dogs can be friendly and loyal, and cats can be affectionate and cuddly. Another 50/50? Snakes are probably his first choice.

Dragon- likes both, but probably a dog person. I think he grew up with a family dog, and so he still has a soft spot for them over cats.

Jack- definitely dogs. His whole character screams dog person to me (his mask does, too). I can see him owning his own police dog. Just because he’s bonded with it, he trained it himself! Oh, and it conveniently skips over his own bag when doing scent drills to find drugs.. huh, it must be all clear.

Machete- we know painfully little about machete, but I’ll say dog person. I like to imagine he still has his childhood dog, which helped him emotionally a lot after his sisters disappearance.

Tom- Very close call. I think he connects well with animals, and knows when to be gentle or when to give them space. I don’t think he’s ever had a reason to pick one over the other. If he had to choose, maybe cats?

Jaqueline- also likes both. Although, I think she’d like dogs more, mostly because they’re athletic. She can go out with them and get some exercise. I think having a dog would also help her feel safer after escaping the desert.

Chamomile- I think she likes many animals, especially since she was majoring in biology. I think deer are her favorite, as a nod to her original design, but between the two I’d say she prefers cats. It’s not a passionate difference, but it’s there. I think she’d like animals she can hold/cuddle.

Richard- none, he doesn’t deserve it/hj in seriousness though, I actually am gonna say cats. I have no idea why. It just feels right for some reason.

Wow that was long. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk :)

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squidsinashirt · 1 hour ago

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“Where does it look like I am, the moon?!”

This entire conversation was quickly sliding back into the sort of territory that made h, and Gordon didn’t even have the excuse of five-hours-sleep-in-forty-eight anymore.

“Penny, I did my job. What- I don’t get it, what are you expecting me to say here?”

The incredulous, dipping dangerously into the sardinic, tone of his reply was genuine, and Gordon was entirely caught off guard by how quickly Penelope’s concern had turned back to ferocity. A smaller part of his brain said he should’ve seen this hurtling toward him from at least a mile down the track. Surely he hadn’t honestly believed being truthful would smooth this over?

He should’ve seen his fought-for invite being shredded in front of his eyes, too, but that was another strike.

Convenient, the devil on his shoulder whispered. It was exactly the excuse she had needed to do exactly what he’d feared, and he had served it to her with a drink on the side and a garnish.

And Gordon silently cursed that terrible Tracy tendency to burn a bridge and torch whatever remained for good measure when that lick of temper was lit. Indignant insult mixed with betrayal in a dangerous, painful wave in his chest that was nothing to do with the bruises that had set all of this in motion, and Gordon wasn’t proud of the way the dam cracked.

“Right, because that’s all I’ll ever be, right? To you, I mean. Just a… a careless jerk, right? The irony being, y’know, that you told me you trusted me this morning and that… what, was that just a lie to make me feel better? Because I mean, you know what I do, Penny. Better than anyone. You know all of this, and you know me and… I mean, fuck, it wasn’t all that long ago you were thanking me for saving the day, in your way, and I… I thought that… I mean… when we spoke and you… you kissed me and that.. was that playing it safe with me? Or…”

His voice wavered, the anger breaking for a moment into something far more treacherous, as the truth of this entire mess bubbled dangerously close to the surface, and it was all Gordon could do to throw out a biting finale.

“Forget it. All of it. Have it your way, Penny, you always do. Scott might be a little less careless and a whole lot more reasonable to you.”

He wasn’t proud either of the ferocity at which he stabbed at the call to disconnect it, nor at the curse that left his mouth as he tossed his watch into the sand beyond. Lifting his thumbs to press at the searing burn behind his eyes.

Just like that, Gordon was back to her first knock back what seemed like forever ago now - standing under the shower, dejected and despondent. A full circle with the current, back to that same ebb and flow of the tide of them. The same endless undertow that dragged him back out and pulled him under in a cold wave.

He cared too much. That was always his problem, he cared too damn much about just about anything that his stupid, soft heart decided was worth his while - and it had decided Penelope Creighton-Ward would be comfortably at the top of that list a long time ago, than Gordon would ever have admitted to.

He wanted to hate the hold she had over him, but it was impossible when she was the one thing he wanted to hold more than anything.

What he wanted right now was to not be thinking about her. At least to try to pretend he could.

Feet hit warm sand, watch retrieved in a moment from where it had crash landed and slipped back on his wrist, and Gordon was stalking back toward the house. Irritation at the painful twinge in his side only growing as the pool was ruefully left behind, and he stepped inside, the faces of his brothers turning from around an old movie being played on the holoscreen.

“Hey bro, finally awake! There’s dinner left in the kitchen.”

“Not hungry, but thanks.”

“Gordon, you haven’t eaten all day, you need-“

“I said I wasn’t hungry Scott, Jesus. Leave it, will ya?”

He hated how quiet the entire lounge fell almost instantly, his snarl rebounding off the walls, and Gordon didn’t need to look at his eldest brother’s face to know the look of dismay that would be written across it. Across all of them.

That would be another apology later, and there would be little escape from Scott’s inevitable interrogation now, but that was be a firmly ‘later’ problem. His footsteps echoed amongst the voices onscreen as Gordon made a beeline for the stairs and the walkway to the ‘birds resting below, his own desolate shadow making for poor company.

:COMMS BEGIN:

Lady P,

Sorry for the early morning comms, hope this doesn’t wake you too early - I make it just after 5 your time.

We’re just finishing up a mission in the Persian Gulf - a luxury hotel collapsed overnight, on an island just offshore Doha. Only built two years ago, whole place is pretty new and shiny.

Been a rough night, Pen - fifteen we were too late to help, including two kids. Just families on vacation...

Anyway, victims are saying they felt tremors, it certainly looks like a quake from the debris now the sun is up and J is absolutely confident it came from beneath the sea bed (absolutely being a rather irritated direct quote, so I’m not asking again).

But… this isn’t a quake hot zone. It doesn’t make any sense, and there haven’t been any aftershocks either while we’ve been working. Five can’t get a good read because of the debris and mineral interference underground. The whole place is on top of the enormous old oil fields, and it sends the scanners haywire.

The company that owns the hotel has set my squid sense off though. Name’s Fulcra, I’ve sent you the profile on them. Ran by a guy named Randall Price. He’s a venture capitalist from Houston originally, but the company’s HQ is a London address. That’s as far as I’ve managed to get.

They own a couple of the small artificial islands around here that are being used as tourist hotspots. Think luxury waterfront villas on stilts kinda stuff, the hotel that’s collapsed was the biggest. Nice place, high end, lots of good dive spots.

This area’s all under a World Heritage protected marine environment permit for a biosphere reserve. They’ve spent decades trying to replenish the mangroves and coastal vegetation after what the oil fields and production did to the waters here, the aquatic populations are only just starting to rise comfortably. I didn’t understand how they even got permission for this sort of work but…

They’ve got a giant platform further out in the Gulf that’s supposedly ‘cleaning the sea’ and helping to replenish the sea bed. Seems to be some sort of agreement that they can build these resorts, in exchange for what appears to be green work. I tried to get a proper look at the platform in Four, out of interest, but they’ve got laser nets up. I got an autoturret my way for trying to go any further in the exosuit…

I’d like to think they’re just really protecting that biosphere, but I don’t get a nice eco-friend impression.

My gut says I’m getting Hydrexler vibes, and you were right about that oily CEO last time. I’m not sure I want to be right, but I do want to know what’s going on here… and I thought you might too, as our resident top agent with a passion for all things Earth-saving.

So, I thought I’d hand it over to you, and let you do what you do best - cosying up to the billionaires and getting them to spill the tea.

Lemme know if you know or find anything on them. We’re going to be here another couple of hours, finishing up stabilising the debris field and having another run through, and then heading back. S managed to get the Price guy on comms briefly, but he wasn’t much for talking. Maybe you’ll have more luck.

G 🦑

:COMMS END:

FIRST DATE?

The flickering light and the soft buzz from her compact device caught her off-guard. Penelope, who had positioned herself in an armchair beside her tall windows after giving up on sleep half an hour earlier, sat herself up a little straighter. The blanket which she’d wrapped around herself was pulled tighter to her frame as her eyes read the message.

The hour might have been earlier and, on any other day, Penelope might very well have still been sleeping, but today was different. She rubbed her tired eyes as they scanned Gordon’s words. At first, she’d hoped it had been something akin to a social call. She rather enjoyed those, especially when they came from Gordon, but the more she read, the more Penelope realised it was anything but that.

Her interest peaked as she reached Gordon’s conspiracy.

Her mouth grew dry when she reached Gordon’s information.

The blanket was thrown off her body and Penelope stood. With her comms device still in hand, her eyes still darting from left to right as she continued her reading, she crossed her bedroom and gently tugged on the bell.

Minutes passed before a very sleepy Parker knocked on her bedroom door. Penelope, having only just finished Gordon’s message, opened it.

“Terribly sorry to wake you, Parker, but it seems we have a situation. I need you to cancel my schedule for today and then get me all we have on the company known as Fulcra. CEO is a man named Randall Price.”

“But, m’lady, that’s—”

“I’m perfectly aware of that, thank you, Parker. See if you can arrange a meeting of some kind, if that’s at all possible.”

Parker nodded, still more asleep than he was awake, before he trundled off down the hallway to make good of his ladyship’s requests.

Penelope returned to chair by the window and curled herself back up. The sun was just beginning to rise on the horizon as she typed out her reply.

COMMS BEGIN

@squidsinashirt, Thank you for your concern — I shall look into this and get back to you when I

Penelope ceased her typing and sighed. She knew it wasn’t fair to lie to him, not after her sent her looking. A moment or two passed before Penelope deleted her previous sentence and began to re-type it.

COMMS BEGIN

Gordon,

This company?

I shall look into this as you requested but, I must warn you, you may not like what I find. Randall Price is… let us say a man I am already familiar with, or rather his business is. What I can tell you is that, for the most part, Fulcra is celebrated as a rather clean company, but that doesn’t always mean much — you were right to mention Hydrexler. The Persian Gulf was supposed to remain a protected marine environment, at least that was how I understood it. I’ll ask some of my World Heritage connections what they know too, see if I can get a bigger picture for you.

Give me a couple of days. I’ll try and, what was it you said? Cosy up to the billionaire? Get him to spill the tea? Parker is going to try and get me an appointment but, if that fails, I do have an alternative plan.

Do try and get some rest once you’ve finished up. The mission in Doha sounds like it’s been a terribly distressing situation for all involved. You know I am always here if you need to talk about it. Any of it.

I’ll be in touch once I hear something.

Stay safe,

Penny x

COMMS END

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

Once upon a time, names held weight. Penelope had thought that Scott’s name had simply been too tied up with International Rescue for Randall Price to give him the time of day… until she too was ushered away once the more difficult questions were asked. From her other sources, Penelope had heard only rave reviews of the company. Yet something felt… off.

It was just after dinner when Penelope began her second message to Gordon.

COMMS BEGIN

It's too clean. Not sure what’s going on but I definitely sense something. Plan B is in operation. Randall Price might not have wanted to speak to me today, but he did invite me to his Charity Ball this weekend — I’ll see if I can find out more then.

I’m hoping you returned home safe and sound and that you managed to have a good rest. I suppose it’s my turn to apologise if this message wakes you.

Penny x

COMMS END

#ooc: once again if anyone read the title to this #ooc: and the initial obvious plot line #ooc: and thought they were getting romantic fluff #ooc: please exit stage left #ooc: things can only get wooooorse #ooc: ehehehe #first date? rp #thunderbirds rp #squidsinashirt #penny answers

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