synopsis » when Sophia’s ex-lover returns and calls her a replacement, Y/n stops being the "perfect" wife to take control of their marriage. She forces Sophia to choose between a past memory and the woman who actually owns her heart.
a/n » hihiiii non-negotiable pt.2 is finally out!!!! I hope you guys enjoy it cs when I was reading/editing this again I hate it nglll 😭 but I also love it!!!...it's giving me mix feelings tbh butttt I think it ended perfectly! so enjoy! im sorry it took me a while to get it out I had a hard time trying to figure out what to write for this part and ofc how to word out my thoughts but I’m so serious it was genuinly hard for me to figure out what I wanted to add in this part!! Also this will be the last part :(
You sat on a bench behind the weeping willows. There was a private playground tucked away, a place where children of the elite would play and make friends. Your eyes never leave your daughter Nova. At three years old, she was a tiny tornado of your stubbornness and Sophia’s terrifyingly sharp focus.
"Nova, honey, please don’t climb too high," you called out, the diamond on your finger catching the sunlight. A reminder of you being Sophia’s "perfect" possession.
You looked down at your phone for a split second to check a message from Sophia—“Home in an hour. Have the vintage Bordeaux ready, I want to celebrate the new merger with my girls.” but when you looked up, your heart hammered against your ribs.
A woman was standing by the slide. She was tall, dressed in a tailored charcoal coat that screamed old money, her hair pulled back in a way that felt eerily familiar. She was leaning down, talking to Nova.
You didn't even realize you were moving until you were halfway there. Every protective nerve in your body burned to life, sharper than it had ever been before.
"Nova! Get over here now," you shouted, your voice sharp enough to stop everyone in their tracks.
Nova blinked, sensing your tension, and trotted over to you. You scooped her up, settling her on your hip, putting yourself between her and the stranger. "Can I help you?" you snapped, your chin tilted up, eyes narrowing.
The woman didn't look startled. She straightened up slowly, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips. She looked you up and down, not with the predatory hunger Sophia used, but with a cold, analytical pity.
"She’s lovely," the woman murmured, her voice like velvet dipped in ice. "She has your mouth. But she definitely has Sophia’s eyes. It’s almost like looking at a photograph from ten years ago."
A chill that had nothing to do with the breeze crawled up your spine. "Do I know you??"
"No," she said softly, stepping closer. The scent of her perfume hit you—sandalwood and bergamot. It was the same scent Sophia had kept in a crystal decanter in the back of her closet for the first year of your marriage. "But I know your face. Or at least, I know the face Sophia wanted you to have."
You tightened your grip on Nova. "Who the hell are you?"
"My name is Marquise," she said, her smile widening just enough to show teeth. "And I see the 'contract' is still holding up well. Tell me, does she still make you wear that specific shade of red? Or was that just for me?"
The world felt like it was tilting. Marquise. The name Sophia had once whispered in her sleep during their first month together. The name your father had mentioned once, before being silenced by your mother’s sharp look.
"You're the ex," you spat, trying to keep your voice from trembling. "Sophia told me you were basically a nobody. A mistake she moved on from."
Marquise laughed, a dry, hollow sound. "That’s what she told you? Darling, look at yourself. Look at your hair, the way you arch your brow when you’re angry. You aren't a wife; you're a replacement, my replacement."
She leaned in, her whisper cutting through the air like a hot iron sword.
"Sophia didn't fall for you because of your 'fire.' She fell for you because she couldn't have me anymore, and you were the closest thing the market had to offer. You were an option, Y/n. A very expensive, very pretty second choice."
She reached out as if to touch a stray hair on your forehead, but you flinched back.
"Enjoy your 'perfect' life," Marquise whispered, her eyes dancing with malice. "But every time she looks at you in the dark, just remember... she’s not seeing you. She’s seeing what she lost."
Without another word, she turned and walked toward a waiting black sedan. You stood there, frozen, the weight of Nova in your arms the only thing keeping you grounded.
You weren't just a brat anymore. You were a woman who had been told her entire life was a lie, that the "devotion" Sophia showed was basically a ghost hunt.
The possessiveness that Sophia had spent years instilling in you suddenly backfired. If you were hers, then she was yours. And if she thought she could keep a ghost in your house, she was about to find out how much of a nightmare you could truly be.
You didn’t wait another second. You held Nova tightly in your arms, ignoring her small huff of protest since she wanted to stay longer, and signaled for the car. Your driver was already moving, sensing the sudden, sharp change in your energy before you even reached the curb.
The ride home is a blur of pure adrenaline. You don't even remember unbuckling Nova from her car seat or handing her off to the nanny. All you can feel is the whisper scent of sandalwood and the way Marquise looked at you like you were a cheap knock-off of a designer original.
You’re pacing the length of the grand foyer, your heels clicking like a countdown on the marble floor. You’ve shed your coat, standing there in a silk slip dress that Sophia bought you—did she buy it because she liked it, or because Marquise wore it better?—and you’re clutching a glass of that vintage Bordeaux so hard you’re surprised the stem hasn't snapped.
The heavy front doors groan open.
Sophia entered, looking every bit the woman who held everyone’s life in the palm of her hand. She’s loosening her tie, a triumphant smirk on her face from whatever company she just devoured. When she sees you, her eyes darken with that familiar, possessive fire.
"There’s my girl," Sophia murmurs, dropping her briefcase and walking toward you with effortless grace. "I could hear your heart beating from the driveway, darling. what’s putting that beautiful scowl on your face?"
She reaches out to cup your cheek, but you jerk away, the wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim of your glass.
"Don't," you spit, your voice trembling with a mix of bratty rage and genuine heartbreak. "Don't touch the 'replacement' today, Sophia. I might break."
Sophia stops mid-stride. Her hand hangs in the air for a second before she slowly drops it. The amused smirk doesn't leave her face, but her eyes go sharp, calculating. She finds your outburst... cute. Like a kitten baring its teeth.
"Replacement?" Sophia repeats, her voice smooth as honey. She walks to the sideboard and pours herself a drink, her back to you. "That sounds like a very interestingly expensive word. Who have you been talking to, Y/n?"
"Marquise," you say, throwing the name like a grenade.
The silence that follows is deafening. Sophia doesn't flinch. She doesn't drop the decanter. She simply takes a sip of her wine and turns around, leaning against the mahogany wood.
"I told you she was a nobody," sophia says calmly. "A ghost from a decade ago who doesn't know when to stay buried."
"She knew my face, Sophia! She knew the shade of red I wear! She told me you only picked me because I looked like the woman you actually wanted. That I was just an option to fill the void she left." You’re shouting now, your eyes stinging with tears you refuse to let fall. "Is that why you wanted me? Am I just a living shrine to your ex?"
Sophia sets her glass down with a slow, deliberate clink. She walks toward you, and for the first time in months, that terrifying, predatory aura she used during your engagement is back in full force. She traps you against the foyer wall, leaning in until there’s barely any space left between you.
"You want to know the truth?" Sophia whispers, her voice dropping to a low, vibrating growl. "Fine. Ten years ago, I thought I wanted a doll. Someone elegant. Someone who followed the rules. Someone like Marquise."
She leans in, her breath ghosting over your lips.
"But then I saw you. You were a nightmare. You were loud, you were difficult, and you hated me with every fiber of your being. And in that moment, I realized I didn't want a doll anymore. I wanted a fire I could never quite put out."
She reaches down, grabbing your hand, the one wearing her ring and presses it against her own heart.
"She’s a 'nobody' because she was boring, Y/n. She was a draft. You are the final script. you think you’re an option? Darling, I burned half the world down to make sure you didn't have any other options but me."
She finds it funny. You can see the twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth she’s enjoying your jealousy. She loves that you’re finally fighting for her instead of just fighting against her.
"You're laughing," you hiss, your possessiveness finally overriding your fear. "You think this is a joke? You think you can just brand me and keep me in this house while you dream of her?"
"I don't dream of ghosts," Sophia murmurs, her hand sliding down to your waist, pulling you flush against her. "I only dream of my bratty, beautiful wife, and my beautiful daughter. Now, are you done throwing your tantrum, or do I need to remind you who you belong to?"
You look at her, like really look at her and you see the obsession in her eyes. It’s not for Marquise. It’s for you. But the sting of the "replacement" comment is still there, and you realize you don't just want to belong to her.
You want to break her.
"Oh, I know who I belong to," you whisper, reaching up to grab her silk tie, winding it around your hand until her face is inches from yours. "But I think you've forgotten something, Sophia. If I'm your wife... then I own you, too. And I'm going to make sure you never even remember her name."
You yank on her tie backwards, forcing her head back.
"Upstairs. Now."
Sophia’s eyebrows shoot up, a flash of genuine surprise and intense arousal crossing her features. "Is that a command, darling?"
"It's a non-negotiable," you growled.
The bedroom door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the hollow hallways of the estate. The air in the room is thick, charged with the kind of electricity that only comes when two predators are finally locked in the same cage.
Sophia stands in the center of the room, watching you with an infuriatingly calm expression. She’s already shed her blazer, her white silk shirt unbuttoned at the collar. she looks like she’s waiting for you to finish whatever "performance " you were doing.
"You’re being very dramatic tonight, Y/n," she murmurs, her voice a smooth caress. "Is this because of the 'nobody'? I told you, she means nothing."
"Shut up," you hissed. The brat was gone. In your place stood the exact monster Sophia had created—a possessive shadow of herself, finally claiming what was yours.
You walk over to her wardrobe and pull out two of her own silk ties—deep emerald and midnight black. You turn back to her, your eyes burning. "Sit. On the edge of the bed. Now."
Sophia’s eyes widened slightly. A slow, dark smirk spreads across her face as she realizes you aren't joking. She finds your sudden dominance intoxicating, a new "fire" she hasn't fully tasted yet. She sits, leaning back on her elbows, her long legs crossed.
"And if I don't?" she challenges, though her breathing has already hitched.
"Then I’ll leave," you lie, stepping between her knees. "I’ll take Nova and I’ll give you the divorce you think I’ve wanted since day one. You can go find another 'option' to dress up in red."
The smirk vanishes from Sophia’s face instantly. The mere mention of you leaving her, losing you is the only thing that can truly break her facade. Her hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist, but you shake her off.
"Hands behind your back, Sophia. Or I'm gone."
For the first time in your marriage, Sophia Laforteza submits. She watches you with a gaze of pure obsession as she slowly brings her hands behind her back. You work quickly, the silk ties sliding over her wrists, then tying them to the heavy, carved mahogany bedpost. You pull the knots tight—tight enough that she can feel the restriction, but not enough to hurt her.
You step back, breathless, looking down at the woman who wanted you. She’s pinned, her chest heaving, looking up at you from under her lashes.
"There," you whisper, crawling onto her lap, straddling her waist so she can feel every inch of you. "Now you’re going to listen. I don't care who you loved ten years ago. I don't care whose ghost you were looking for when you signed those contracts. Because right now? You’re bound to me. You're mine and you’re the one who can’t leave."
You lean in, your lips brushing against her ear. "Am I an option, Sophia? Or am I the only thing you have left?"
"You were never just an option," Sophia groans, her head thumping back against the wood as she pulls against the silk. "You’re the only thing that’s real. Marquise was just a shadow, and you’re the sun that burned her away. She was boring... I never cared about her the way I care about you."
She looks at you, her eyes dark and clouded with a hunger that finally feels personal, like a woman who is well and truly obsessed and possessed by her wife.
"I realized it the day we saw the sonogram for Nova," Sophia whispers, her voice breaking. "I saw that little heartbeat... and I looked at you, looking so tired and so beautiful, and I realized I didn't want a memory. I wanted this. I wanted the woman who makes my life a living hell and a heaven at the same time."
Every last bit of doubt crumbles. Your heart races, realizing how much Sophia truly cares for you and your daughter. Without a word, you reach for the hem of your slip dress and pull it over your head.
"Good," you growl, pressing your body against hers. "Because I’m going to make sure you’re too busy with me to ever think of another name again. And if you want another heir? If you want to keep building this 'perfect' family?"
You take her chin in your hand, forcing her to look at you as the room fades away into nothing but the two of you.
"Then you’re going to have to earn it. Starting right now."
Sophia’s pupils dilate until her eyes are almost entirely black. "Take what you want, Y/n. I’m yours. I’ve always been yours."
The room is thick with the scent of wine and tension. Sophia looks up at you from the floor, her wrists tied to the post with her own silk. Finally, the power is exactly where you want it: in your hands.
"Good girl," you whisper, mimicking the words she’s used to tame you for years.
You reach down, your fingers gliding over the waistband of her tailored trousers. You don't rush. You want her to feel every second of her helplessness. When you flick the button and slide the zipper down, her cock springs free, already thick and leaking a trail of slick pre-cum that glistens in the lamplight. It’s heavy, pulsing with her heartbeat, and just the sight of it makes your own cunt throb, aching for her.
"You like that, don't you?" you murmur, wrapping your hand around the base of her shaft. "Knowing that even when you’re tied up, you’re still reacting to me like a dog on a leash."
Sophia lets out a choked sound, hips jerking forward, and her head snapping back against the bedpost. "I'm your dog, Y/n. Always. Just... fuck, please."
You don't give her what she wants. Instead, you use your free hand to spread your own legs, rubbing your soaking wet folds against her thigh. You’re dripping, your juices coating her skin as you grind slowly, teasing yourself. You want her to watch. You want her to see exactly what she’s missing while she’s stuck in those silk restraints.
"Is the 'nobody' still on your mind, Sophia?" you ask, your voice dropping to a filthy, low register as you slide a finger into your own heat. "Or are you too busy wondering how my cunt is going to feel around your cock?"
"There is no one else," Sophia groans, her hips jerking instinctively, trying to meet your grind. "Fuck, Y/n... I want to fill you up. I want to put another baby in you right now. I want you so full of me you can't even walk."
The mention of another baby—of being pregnant by her again sends a jolt of pure lightning through your core. You’ve had enough of the games. You want her so bad..
You lift yourself up, positioning your soaking entrance right over the head of her cock. you lower yourself slowly, inch by agonizing inch, watching Sophia’s face contort in a mix of agony and ecstasy. Her cock stretches you wide, filling you up till you're full of her.
When you finally bottom out, taking her full length, you both let out a synchronized groan/moan.
"Fuck you're mine," you gasp, your hands flat against her chest, feeling her heart hammering. "Say it." You grind down hard.
"I'm yours," Sophia groans, her bound arms straining so hard the silk ties creak. "I belong to you. Fuck, you're so tight… so perfect..my beautiful girl."
You start to move, riding her with a frantic, possessive rhythm. Each time you slam down, your clit rubs against the base of her, sending waves of white-hot pleasure through your spine. You’re messy, the sound of your wet skin slapping against hers filling the silent room. You aren't being the polite wife now; you're a brat taking what’s hers, bouncing on her dick that makes Sophia’s eyes roll back into her head.
"Put a baby in me," you hiss into her ear, biting her lobe hard enough to leave a mark. "Forget Marquise. Make me yours again." your hand slides down, your fingers finding your clit and rubbing hard, the friction making your knees go weak as you stare into her eyes.
Sophia loses it. Her restraint snaps, not the silk, but her mind. She starts thrusting up into you with a violent, desperate force, her dick hitting your cervix over and over. She’s growling, the sound deep and primal, as she pours everything she has into you.
"I’m going to fill you so deep," Sophia gasps, her body beginning to tremble as she nears her limit. "You’re going to carry my name and my baby until you forget anyone else ever existed."
The climax hits you hard, your walls clamping down on her cock in pulses. Seconds later, you feel the hot, thick jet of her cum spurting inside you, filling you to the brim, over and over until you’re overflowing.
You collapse against her chest, both of you gasping for air. Your hearts beat wildly against each other. She’s still buried deep inside you, her cock filling you completely, and you don't ever want her to move.
You reach up and slowly untie her wrists. Sophia doesn't move away. She pulls you into her arms, her hands immediately finding your stomach, her touch soft, reverent, and utterly possessive.
"Another one," she whispers into your hair. "We're making another one."
She tilts your chin up, her lips meeting yours in a deep, lingering kiss. For the first time, you don't fight it. You just pull her closer.
A couple of weeks later you were at the outdoor mall, finally feeling like things were normal again. Nova hummed to herself, holding her stuffed bunny tight as you headed for the fountain. Then the energy shifted..
"Back for more designer distractions?."
You froze. Marquise was sitting against the fountain, watching Nova with a look that made your skin crawl. You stepped in front of your daughter, your voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"Leave. Sophia is done with you. You're nothing now, so get out of here."
Marquise stepped closer, her heels clicking like a ticking clock. "She told you that because she’s a liar, darling. She’s a collector of pretty things that remind her of me. does it bother you? Knowing that when she comes inside you, she’s closing her eyes and seeing my face? Knowing that child is just a physical attempt to rewrite a history she regrets losing?"
"Shut up!" you yelled, the stress of the last few weeks finally snapping your composure. Your heart was racing, a sharp pain blooming in your temple. "You don't know anything! She loves me!"
"She loves the image," Marquise sneered, stepping into your personal space. "And once you lose your youth, or once that 'fire' bores her, she'll find another girl who looks just like us. You’re a cycle, Y/n."
The stress, the hormones, and the sheer audacity of this woman sent you over the edge. You weren't just a brat now; you were a cornered animal.
"I SAID GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM US!" you screamed, your voice echoing off the glass storefronts.
The sudden, violent volume of your voice startled Nova. She let out a sharp, terrified wail, dropping her rabbit and clutching your leg, her small body shaking with sobs.
"Look what you did!" you hissed at Marquise, your vision blurring with tears of rage. "You're terrorizing a child! You're a pathetic, obsessed—"
"I think that’s quite enough."
The voice didn't come from you. It didn't come from Marquise. It came from behind you—a cold, metallic tone that made the entire plaza seem to drop ten degrees.
You turned to see Sophia. She wasn't the calm, amused woman who laughed at your tantrums. She was a god of wrath. She was dressed in a dark suit, her eyes fixed on Marquise with a look of such pure, murderous intent that even the ex-lover visibly flinched.
Sophia didn't look at you first. She stepped past you, her hand resting briefly on your shoulder, a touch that was meant to ground you, but felt like a warning to the world.
"Marquise," Sophia said, her voice terrifyingly quiet. "I believe I made it clear that you were dead to this family. And yet, here you are, making my wife scream and my daughter cry."
"Sophia, I was just telling her the truth—" Marquise started, her confidence crumbling.
Sophia moved so fast it was a blur. she didn't strike her, but she stepped into Marquise's space, looming over her with a presence that was suffocating.
"The truth is that you are a nuisance that I should have dealt with years ago," Sophia hissed. "If you ever breathe the same air as my family again, I won't just ruin your reputation. I will erase every trace of your existence and your family from this city. Do you understand me? You are nothing."
Marquise turned pale, her mouth hovering open, before she scrambled away, her heels catching on the pavement as she practically ran for her car.
The moment she was gone, the anger didn't leave Sophia; it shifted. She turned to you, her eyes scanning your face, taking in your heaving chest and your tear-stained cheeks. She saw Nova sobbing against your thigh.
Sophia dropped to one knee, scooping Nova up into one arm and pulling you into the other.
"I've got you," she murmured, her voice finally breaking its icy shell. "I'm so sorry. I should have had her watched more closely."
"She said—she said I was just a cycle," you whispered, your hand clutching Sophia’s blazer.
Sophia pulled back, her thumb wiping a tear from your cheek. She looked at you with a devotion so heavy it felt like a physical weight.
"She’s a ghost trying to haunt a house that’s already full, Y/n," Sophia whispered, her eyes dropping to your stomach for a brief, knowing second. "You aren't a cycle. You're the end of one. You're the only woman I've ever feared losing."
She kissed your forehead, then leaned down to kiss Nova’s head. "Let's go home. I think it's time we remind everyone exactly who the Laforteza family belongs to."
The drive home is silent, but it’s a heavy, vibrating kind of silence. Sophia’s hand is clamped onto your thigh the entire time, her knuckles white as she grips the steering wheel with the other. Every few minutes, she glances in the rearview mirror at Nova, who has finally cried herself to sleep in the back, then at you. Her jaw is set so tight you can see the muscle leaping in her cheek.
The second you step inside the foyer, the "protective" mode shifts into something bordering on obsessive.
"Lucy! Take Nova to the nursery. Keep the guards at the door. No one goes in or out without my direct clearance," Sophia barks, her voice echoing off the high ceilings.
"Sophia, I'm fine," you mutter, though your hands are still trembling. "You're scaring the staff."
"You were screaming, Y/n," Sophia says, spinning around to face you. The fury hasn't left her eyes; it’s just focused on your well-being now. "Your heart was racing so hard I could see it through your dress. That woman put her hands near my daughter and stress onto my wife. I am not fine."
She moves toward you, her hands reaching out to guide you toward the lounge, her touch firm and unyielding. "You’re going to sit. You’re going to drink some water. And tomorrow, we are moving the summer trip forward. I want you behind the gates of the estate in Tuscany where that bitch can't even find us on a map."
"I don't want to go to Tuscany!" you snap, your old bratty fire flickering, though it's tempered by the exhaustion in your bones. "I want you to stop treating me like a piece of glass! I’m not some fragile doll she can just break."
"Aren't you?" Sophia looms over you. She places her hands on the arms of the chair, pinning you in. "Because you look pale. You’re shaking. And I will not have you falling apart over a bitch ass ghost. You belong to me, and I protect what is mine."
You look up at her, the woman who bought your life, who tamed your tantrums, and who just threatened to erase a person from existence for making you cry. You realize there’s no more hiding it. The stress of the park, the confrontation, and the secret you’ve been carrying for the last forty-eight hours all collide at once.
"It’s not just the stress, Sophia," you whisper, your voice cracking.
Sophia freezes. Her eyes narrow, scanning your face with that terrifyingly sharp intuition. "What is it? Did she touch you? Did she—"
"I'm pregnant."
The word hangs in the air like a physical weight.
Sophia’s entire posture changes. The predatory tension snaps, replaced by a stunned, raw silence. Her eyes drop instantly to your stomach, her hands sliding from the chair to your waist, her touch suddenly so light it’s as if she’s afraid you’ll shatter.
"You're... what?" she breathes , her voice dropping to a low, reverent tremble.
"Two days," you say, a tear finally escaping and rolling down your cheek. "I found out two days ago and was going to tell you tonight. But then she showed up, and she started saying I was just an option, a replacement... and I got so scared that maybe she was right. That maybe you only wanted another heir to fill the space she left."
Sophia drops to her knees between your legs, her forehead resting against your stomach. She lets out a shaky, jagged breath, her arms wrapping around your hips and pulling you close.
"An option?" she scoffs against your skin, the sound muffled by your dress. "Y/n, look at me."
She pulls back, her eyes shining with a mix of fierce love and absolute possession.
"I didn't put a child in her. I didn't marry her. I didn't spend every waking hour of the last four years trying to win a war against your stubborn heart. I did those things with you."
She slides her hand over your belly, her palm warm and protective. "This isn't a replacement. This is us. Another part of you that I get to keep. Another reason for me to make sure the rest of the world stays far away from my gates."
She leans up, kissing you with a deep, slow intensity that tastes like a promise.
"You’re pregnant with my child," she whispers against your lips, her hand sliding up to grip the back of your neck. "Which means the 'nightmare' is over. From this second on, you do exactly what I say. No more public parks. No more solo trips. You are going to be the most pampered, protected woman on this planet."
You roll your eyes, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through. "And if I want to be a brat about it?"
Sophia smirks, that dark, dominant glint returning to her eyes as she leans in to kiss your neck.
"Then I’ll just have to find new ways to tame you, won't I? after all... we have nine months to practice."
It had been six months, and the afternoon sun made the Tuscan hills look gold. It was a beautiful ‘home’( basically another cage), filled with olive groves and vineyards, but Sophia still kept the perimeter on total lockdown.
You were lounged on a shaded terrace, your silk robe pulled open to accommodate the heavy, rounded swell of your stomach. You were seven months, and the "new" baby was just as restless as Nova had been, kicking against your ribs with a stubbornness that felt all too familiar.
From the grassy verge below the terrace, the sound of high-pitched giggles drifted up.
Sophia was on the grass, her expensive dress shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her tailored trousers stained with grass at the knees. It was a sight only you and the staff ever saw, the most feared woman in the industry reduced to a plaything for a three-year-old.
"Again, Mama! Again!" Nova squealed.
Sophia let out a rare, genuine laugh. She reached down, her strong arms easily scooping Nova up and tossing her into the air. Nova shrieked with delight, her tiny hands reaching for the sky before Sophia caught her securely against her chest, tucking the toddler’s head under her chin.
"You’re going to wear me out, little bee," Sophia murmured, though she made no move to put her down. She nuzzled Nova’s neck, blowing raspberries until the child dissolved into a fit of breathless laughter.
You watched them, your hand resting on your bump. The bond between them was terrifyingly strong. Sophia didn't just love Nova; she was molding her. She treated Nova like a tiny princess-regent, teaching her "lessons" under the guise of play.
"Nova, what do we do when someone tries to take your toy?" Sophia asked, sitting back on her heels with the toddler in her lap.
"We don't let them," Nova said firmly, her little brow furrowing just like Sophia's. "It's mine."
"And why is it yours?"
"Because I'm a Laforteza," Nova chirped proudly.
Sophia’s smirk was pure triumph. She kissed the top of Nova’s head, her eyes finally drifting up to find you on the terrace. The warmth she had for Nova stayed in her gaze, but it sharpened into that dark, possessive fire the moment it landed on you.
"Is the little one behaving?" Sophia called out, standing up with Nova still perched on her hip.
"He’s a nightmare," you complained, though your voice lacked any real bite. "He’s been kicking my bladder for an hour. He’s clearly your son."
Sophia hiked Nova higher and began walking toward the terrace. Every step she took was deliberate, her eyes locked on your pregnant form like you were the sun her entire world revolved around. She climbed the stone steps and stood over your lounge chair, the contrast between her sharp, dominance and the soft way she held Nova making your heart skip.
"Everything I make with you is a masterpiece of defiance, Y/n," Sophia whispered, leaning down.
She didn't kiss you first. Instead, she guided Nova’s hand to your bare stomach. "Feel that, Nova? That’s your brother. He’s being difficult because he wants to come out and play, but he has to wait his turn."
Nova pressed her small palm against your skin, her eyes wide. "He's big, Mommy."
"He's huge," you groaned.
Sophia handed Nova off to a waiting nanny with a silent nod—a command that needed no words. The moment the child was out of earshot, the "doting parent" mask shifted back into the "obsessive lover."
Sophia sank down beside you, her large hand warm against your stomach. She leaned in until your noses brushed, her eyes locked on yours.
She leaned forward and gave you a lingering, sweet kiss that made the rest of the world disappear. You let out a soft sigh against her lips, finally feeling at peace.
"I saw you watching us," Sophia murmured, her thumb tracing the underside of your breast. "You get so quiet when I’m with her. Are you still thinking about what that woman said? About cycles?"
"It’s hard not to," you admitted, your hand covering hers. "She looks so much like you. And I look similar to... the “ghost”."
Sophia’s eyes went dark, that flash of fury you’d seen in the park flickering for a split second before it turned into soft raw devotion. She leaned down, pressing a hard, possessive kiss to the peak of your belly, right over where the baby was kicking.
"Nova has my eyes," Sophia whispered against your skin, "but she has your spirit. She’s a brat, just like her mother. And this one?" She patted your stomach. "He’s going to be just as difficult. I don't want a house of dolls, Y/n. I want a house full of you."
She moved up, her lips hovering over yours, her scent—expensive cedar and that intoxicating pheromone pull—filling your senses.
"I've spent ten years trying to find something worth keeping," Sophia breathed, her hand sliding lower, past the swell of your belly to the damp heat between your thighs. "And I found it in a girl who tried to scream me away. You aren't a replacement. You're the reason I stopped looking."
She leaned in and kissed you, a deep kiss that tasted of expensive wine and pure adoration. In that moment, you knew she was more than just Nova’s father; she was yours also.
Time seemed to melt away after that, lost in the golden glow and seclusion of the estate. You spent your days lounging by the olive groves or resting in the shade of the stone veranda, watching Nova play. Now that you were nearly eight months along, the heavy, beautiful weight of your belly had finally done what Sophia’s contracts never could: it had forced you to slow down and just be hers.
You were resting in the garden one afternoon, your feet propped up on a plush ottoman, when a movement near the rose bushes caught your eye. It was one of the new security detail Sophia had hired—a tall man you didn't recognize. He stepped a bit too close to your chair, reaching for a stray branch to clip, but before he could even utter a greeting, a small, fierce shadow darted out from behind your lounge.
"Stop!"
Nova stood there, her tiny legs braced wide, her favorite wooden sword clutched in her hand. She looked like a miniature version of Sophia, her jaw set in that same terrifyingly rigid line.
"Nova, honey, it’s just the gardener," you said softly, amused by the display.
"No," Nova insisted, not moving an inch as she glared up at the man. "Mama is resting. You stay back!” Her eyes never leaving the man. She pointed the wooden tip of her sword directly at his shins. "You don't touch Mommy. Mama said Mommy is ours. You stay back!"
The guard, a grown man trained in tactical combat, actually looked nervous. He was a professional, but he knew better than to offend the tiny heir. He took three large steps back, his hands raised in a peace offering. "Of course, little Miss. My apologies."
Nova didn't lower her sword until he was well out of sight. The moment he disappeared, her expression softened, shifting back into that sweet, slightly bratty warmth she saved only for you. She scrambled onto the edge of your lounge, patting your swollen stomach with a heavy-handed protectiveness that felt oddly familiar.
"I won't let them, Mommy," she whispered, her voice small but certain. "The baby and you. You're mine."
You felt a chill of recognition settle deep in your bones. She wasn't just playing a game; she was basically a little Sophia who had spent years teaching her the art of possession and obsession. You weren't just a mother or a wife in this house, you were the prize they both guarded with everything they had. And you had a feeling the next baby would be the same.
As your due date got closer, the security got even tighter. Sophia was everywhere, watching every move you made. When the day finally came, she wasn't about to let you out of her sight.
The arrival of the baby was not quiet. It happened in the middle of a thunderstorm that rattled the windows of the estate’s private medical wing. Sophia had refused to take you to a public hospital, bringing the best surgeons and nurses directly to the house.
The pain was a white-hot blur, but through all the noise, Sophia was the only thing that felt real. She hadn’t moved from your side in twenty hours. Her suit jacket was tossed somewhere on the floor, her white shirt was a wrinkled mess, and she was soaked in sweat. Her hands were clamped onto yours so hard it almost hurt, like she was physically holding you together so you wouldn't just drift away.
"Look at me," she’d growl every time a contraction hit, her voice rough and desperate. "Stay with me."
"Push, Y/n," Sophia coached into your ear, her voice raw and stripped of its usual elegance. "One more. Give me my son. Bring him home please."
With one last, agonizing scream, the weight was finally gone. The room was suddenly filled with the loud, healthy cry of a newborn.
The nurses moved fast, cleaning him up and wrapping him in silk before handing the bundle over. You watched, trembling and totally spent, as the most powerful woman you knew took the small child into her arms.
Sophia didn’t look at the nurses. She didn’t even glance at the monitors. She just stared down at the boy—his skin flushed, with a shock of dark hair—and a single, rare tear actually escaped her eye.
"Leo," she whispered, her voice thick and rough. "Leo Laforteza."
She walked to your bedside, leaning down so you could see him. In that moment, the cold, calculating woman was gone. There was only the woman who had spent years trying to bind you to her, finally realizing she was the one who was truly tied down.
"He looks exactly like you," Sophia murmured, kissing your sweat-soaked forehead. "Another beautiful, stubborn nightmare."
She shifted her weight, her movements super gentle as she lowered the bundle toward you. Her hands guided him carefully into the crook of your arm, making sure you had him steady before she let go.
As soon as his weight settled against your chest, the tiny boy stopped fussing. He let out a soft, huffing sigh and turned his face toward your warmth.
Sophia didn’t pull away. She stayed leaning over you, one hand resting on your shoulder and the other stroking the back of the baby’s head. She looked caught between wanting to watch him and being unable to take her eyes off you.
"See?" she whispered, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "he already knows who he belongs to."
You looked up at her, seeing the raw, exhausted pride in her eyes. For the first time, the "high-security" walls of the estate felt less like a cage and more like a shield.
"We're staying right here," Sophia promised, her voice a low rumble. "No more contracts, no more games. Just us."
The last five months had been a total blur of being pampered and watched. Sophia had been like a shadow, barely ever leaving the nursery or your bedroom. But tonight, the house was finally quiet. The kids were with the nannies, and for the first time since Leo was born, it was just the two of you.
You were standing in front of the full-length mirror, just looking at yourself. Your body is different now. Your hips were wider, your breasts were fuller, and you had those faint, silvery stretch marks across your skin. You didn't feel like that girl who wanted to bolt for the islands anymore. You felt like you were exactly where you wanted to be.
Suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist. You felt Sophia’s hard on pressing against your back through her silk pants, a feeling you're familiar with.
"You're staring again," she whispered, her breath hot against your neck. "Are you looking for a ghost? Because she’s gone, baby. I’ve checked."
"I was just thinking about how much you’ve taken from me," you murmured, leaning your head back against her shoulder. "My freedom, my body… my heart."
Sophia didn't waste a second. She spun you around in her arms, her eyes dark with that restless, hungry look you knew all too well.
"I didn't take them," she growled. "I secured and protected them. And now that the kids are with their nannies, I think it’s time I remind you why I went through all that trouble to keep you in the first place."
She reached down and hiked you up. Your legs hooked around her waist automatically as she carried you toward the bed—the same one where you’d tied her up months ago. But tonight, she was the one calling the shots.
"I’m going to make sure you’re too loud to think about anything but my name," she muttered, her hand sliding between your legs, finding you already wet for her. "I’m going to fuck you until you realize that no one else could ever handle the fire you give me."
She dropped you onto the silk sheets, her weight pinning you down while she made quick work of the buttons on her shirt.
"Show me, then," you challenged, that old, bratty fire finally sparking in your eyes. "Show me I'm the only one."
Sophia’s grin was dangerous. "With pleasure."
a/n: soooooo what did y'all think??? (•᷄ࡇ•᷅ ;) im so nervy oh my gosh imma barf \(”˚☐˚)/ ..( ˶óᯅò) !! I also edited this at 5 am 🥰😔
letters from the host. little suggestive near the end but no actual smut! i've been terrible at writing smut recently & lowkey wasn't picturing anything more than a few touches described in this smau because it's mainly focused on their careers, the internet, and a truckload of angst. anyway, enjoy! 🤍
Seoul, Tuesday 11:11 p.m.
Dani has never rushed somewhere in this much of a hurry since she almost missed rehearsal an entire year ago during the Dream Academy era.
But who wouldn't? If anyone else was surprised by the disturbing news that their own label put their entire relationship on blast as something that it wasn't, they'd be flipping tables and beating asses. Which... is what Dani wants to do, but realistically can't if she wants to keep her job and her life both stable and steady. What makes this all a million times worse, however, is that you fully believe she'd be the type of person to agree to something as shitty and as selfish as that. It pains her more than she can explain—in a coherent sentence, that is. If she even attempted to pick up the little fragments of her anger and piece them together, she'd probably lose control and let them all fall to her feet again, shattering into even smaller pieces that she doesn't think she has the willpower to glue back together again and make sense of.
She's not sure she has enough willpower to even step out of the car and walk into the hotel you're currently staying in for the duration of your trip—however long that's been shortened to after the news. Dani feels terrible. More so, she feels her stomach twisting maddeningly at the fact that her management would ever fuck her over like this, in such a situation that impacts not just her, but you, in the worst possible ways.
Whatever, it's fine, she guesses. Fuck HYBE, Geffen, and their stupid fucking fansigns that barely ever have reliable security guards.
God, they need a new label.
Today, preferably.
"Ms. Y/L/N," the driver suddenly says, and Dani looks up at the sound of your last name. However, you're nowhere to be found, and he's looking directly at her. "We've arrived at your destination."
Oh, that's right.
She kinda, maybe, sorta, lowkey placed the Uber under her first name and your last. Daniela Y/L/N—it sounded pretty nice in the moment, still does, but it is kind of awkward now that she's outside of your hotel and her heart is beating ten times harder than before. She's nervous to see you again, after so long, after a fight—multiple, maybe, if you count the "break-up" as an argument. I mean, you were being a little persistent, but... she doesn't know. For both yours and her sakes, she won't count it.
"Thank you," Dani smiles, though it's void of any real emotion. She can't help it, not when all that's on her mind is you and the inevitable conversation—argument—you're bound to have once you walk in.
The driver nods, raising his hand from the wheel for a brief moment with a small smile. "Of course. Have a nice day, young lady."
Without another word, she hops out of the car and starts through the hotel doors. They slide open, and she walks in, eyes flicking around the lobby and sighing softly at the weight on her chest that's only growing as the seconds pass by in what feels like slow motion. She smiles politely at the front desk lady, opens her messages with you, and immediately feels the weight grow.
you what floor?
favorite rookie 3rd
Okay, cool. You're still pissed and there is absolutely no way in hell she'll be able to say something that makes sense without you exploding into anger or breaking into tears—or maybe she's projecting. She has so much bottled up that she doesn't know what to do with and she knows you're dealing with the same thing. You're both under immense pressure, even more so now that the article dropped this morning and neither of you had knowledge about it until Dani was already at the fansign and she couldn't reach her phone before it was over.
She doesn't know how, but the label definitely had this planned more than a week in advance. KATSEYE's official schedule was released to both the public and their label two days after Beautiful Chaos dropped, which was the day you and she were both confirmed to be in Atlanta for work. It'd make sense for the label to think the worst of what was to come out of this relationship she and you built, but they definitely saw something happening during that day in specific. Both of you together, a team dinner scheduled a week in advance she's guessing, and only three out of six of the Kats making it to the game.
With that in mind, it almost leads her to think both of your teams had this planned out—not only because of the timing, but because all of them knew about your relationship.
So where does that leave her? Confused, still, but not entirely blinded as to what has been happening behind the scenes for maybe over a couple of weeks now. Dani doesn't know why either of your teams would sabotage either of your happiness like this, in such a cruel way, but she wants to find out and she wants to find out soon—if her theories are correct. All she can do right now is keep her hopes high that you'll help her.
It's the least you could do, honestly.
No shade.
...Okay, maybe a little, but you deserve it.
As she makes her way to the elevators, she hangs her head low, eyes hardly in view to anyone looking straight. She doesn't know what to do with herself, not when everything is crashing down on her and she has no one to turn to now—not when she was just informed that everyone she did have left turned on her. Dani can't believe that her girls would do something as terrible as that, knowing they'd be betraying her in the process. It hurts that they knew even before the article was released and none of them had thought to say anything about it. Not even Megan or Manon had made an effort to say something, and they were the ones who wanted her and you to work in the first place!
Seriously, it's like everyone has suddenly decided she's unwell just because she still has the heart to keep defending you and loving you.
Everyone's perspective on her situation is different, she knows, but she doesn't understand why everyone who originally thought you'd be good for her—that you'd help her become more... open—has now suddenly switched up and sees you as nothing more than a reckless person and an irresponsible rookie. You're more than that, you are so much more than what people have painted you as your entire career. Despite what the media thinks, you're a person too, you're a person with real feelings who sees each and every negative and positive comment on yourself.
It just doesn't make sense to her why she's the only person who still sees that through all of this.
Or maybe it does.
Maybe she still sees the good in you because she loves you and she believes you can bounce back onto your feet from as big of a hit to your reputation as this. Your reputation's never been worse, so... she must like you for you. And if that's all she leaves you with after today, she'll at least be grateful you know that, if anything.
Dani is sick at the thought of that—leaving you with nothing more than a farewell and a few words she wished she could've said a million times before. She already wishes she had told you her feelings sooner, before everything got too heavy and real and everyone's opinions had already been widespread about you two. Relationships move quickly under the public eye, and both of you knew that before getting into this situation, but taking it slow has always been the first instinct for both of you.
Neither of you was made for this amount of spotlight, not during moments where both of you are tangled up in love and keeping each other happy, and definitely not when you're still figuring out how to manage large amounts of hate and threats that wouldn't have even occurred to you before everything that happened... happened. It's more than inhumane, the responses both you and her have been receiving, and honestly? It's become more and more difficult to carry recently.
The elevator doors open with a soft, bing, and Dani hesitates for a few seconds. She's still unsure whether or not coming to see you was a good idea or not, what she'll be getting from this, what she even wants from this, what you want from this—if you do still want anything from her. Closure, maybe. An explanation, definitely. You both need to explain things that have been sitting in the open for far longer than they should have been. She needs to tell you her side of the story, how she was completely blindsided, how she never wanted any of this.
It sounds like something she's heard before—something she's from you in the past, actually—and it makes her more than nauseous to think back on what led you and her to this point.
Dani makes her way down the hall, shrugging off the doubtful thoughts consuming her mind. She steps slowly, footsteps padding softly against the carpeted floors, raising her head now because she doesn't want to miss your room number. She almost doesn't remember if you said twenty-three or twenty-four, so she opts for picking the first one she sees and knocking in hopes it's the right door.
At Room twenty-three, she knocks—that special little knock you and she created back when you first started coming over to her place just in case any paps found her address, or some crazy fan somehow turned up. It's a quick rhythm, and before she can second-guess herself and knock more than she needs to, she retracts her hand and lets it fall to her side, eyes lowering and heartbeat picking up in speed almost immediately. As she waits, she contemplates shooting you a text to let you know she's here, palms suddenly itching.
The silence holds for longer than it ever has between you two, so without another thought, she speaks up, "Y/N—?"
She's hardly able to ask her question before the door opens and she's met with a sight she's missed far more than she'd like to admit right now. You're standing in the doorway, eyes dark and gloomy with restlessness and the broken promise that the silence established between you and her a week ago would only be a break—not a break-up. Just staring back at the girl you used to call baby and used to call every night hurts you.
"Dani," you mumble, face softening a fraction before you realize you're not allowed to call her that anymore. "Daniela, what—I didn't think you'd actually come," you admit, shoulders slumped forward. "I thought... your fansigning, aren't you supposed to be there?"
"Supposed to," she echoes, scoffing a moment later. "Yeah, I'm supposed to be there, but fuck that." Dani spits, eyes meeting yours for s split second, glassy and hurt—like a kicked puppy—and continues, "Fuck my label, fuck... my team, the girls. Fuck everyone. They all knew about the article, the announcement, and nobody had even thought to tell me before it was all over the internet and you'd already found out before I could say anything about it. So yeah, I'm supposed to be there, but I'm here instead—because this is where I was really supposed to be."
You're frozen in place for a moment, lips parted in a mixture of disbelief and hurt. Everything that's happened in the past five hours has moved entirely too fast for your liking and for your own comprehension. It's too much, too much for you, too much for her, too much for everything that's already happened before this. "...What?"
All she does is stare, letting out a breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding since she stopped speaking and let you process her words.
"Y/N," she breathes.
Staring, you tilt your head.
Dani hates how stupidly and utterly charming you are.
The Latina inhales, wetting her lips before parting them to speak again. "Y/N, I love you."
God.
Oh, my God.
Dani stays silent, eyes flicking to yours, maintaining strong eye contact as she awaits your response. She doesn't know what else to do other than stand there and watch you, examine your body language, the look on your face, anything that gives away your initial thought. You were the one who said it first, after all, and she'll forever applaud you for that in your head, but now? Now she's here and she's saying it back, right to your face, standing opposite you, with the heaviest feeling she's ever been hit with lying comfortably in her heart.
When nothing but silence comes from you, she inhales and starts again, "I didn't agree to that article, Y/N, and I want you to be the first one to know that—to really, actually understand that any and everything said in that article was all bullshit, fabricated to fit some fantasy-like narrative my label wanted to push."
"And, yeah, maybe they decided on it because of everything that happened in Atlanta, but you have to understand that none of what happened that night ever mattered to me," Dani continues, chest rising and falling in an uneven pattern now, "Not the win, not the game being in my hometown, not Kennedy—nothing. The fight never mattered to me, the reason behind it never mattered, all that mattered was you and me, together, in the same place, at the same time. That's all I've ever wanted since you kissed me and my entire world was flipped upside down." She exhales, hands gesturing wildly in the space in front of her like she can't physically stop them.
Dani inhales again, like she's about to add on to her rant, but before she can even get another word out—you hug her, stepping forward and grabbing her hand, pulling her against your body like nothing else matters. Because, in her very own words, nothing does.
You rush to her without thought, the once-small space between you closed in less than a second, arms wrapping around Dani's waist and holding her tight in your embrace out of pure instinct. Dani freezes for a moment, stunned at the sudden hug you pulled her into, the familiar warmth enveloping her whole body until her muscles relax and she finally allows herself to melt into your arms—because it's not like she has any other choice. She's missed you, so much more than is reasonable, and she couldn't hide it even if she tried her hardest.
In a natural response, Dani wraps her arms around the back of your neck—your upper back, if we're being real—and feels herself falling forward, her guard let down, her body fully willing. You hold her tighter than you ever have, inhaling softly and catching a whiff of her perfume mixed with the scent of her shampoo, shoulders dropping in something that could only be named relief. The multitude of text messages you sent her were harsh, you can admit, but everything you said then doesn't dictate the way you feel now.
It was a natural reaction to someone doing something to hurt you, intentionally or not, and neither of you are to blame for a situation that, again, neither of you had any prior knowledge of.
For a moment longer than necessary, you stand in that same position in the doorway—bodies pressed against each other, limbs tangled around said bodies, hearts pounding in tandem. Despite all the tension, the anger, the sadness, the confusion that's been the root of every problem concerning your relationship with each other, none of that has ever really mattered. Not today, at least, not now that's Dani's here and she's in your arms. A sense of belonging washes over you in the moment.
You stay like that for a while, enjoying each other's company even if just for a few minutes. It's not like you'll have much time to hug after... whatever this is, is over, officially, and you're legally not able to see each other anymore—if her management team is as cruel as she's putting it and how you're beginning to look at them. If they are, you're not above thinking they'll take legal action to keep her and the other girls away from you. Or, more importantly, away from everything you love. You're beginning to think you love Dani more than basketball itself, and that's saying more than something.
Soon enough, one of you pulls away—neither of you are sure who initiates it, but it happens—and you're suddenly disconnected once again, but... not entirely. Instead of letting her go completely, your hands stay planted on her waist, touch soft and warm and everything she's needed to feel on her body since you last spoke. It's almost like you can still feel the steady beat of her heart against your chest even as you're not hugging.
"I'm sorry," she starts, and it hurts your heart that she feels like she has to be the one to apologize. If anything, you and your entire internet should be the ones apologizing. "For coming off so strong, and for not finding out about the news sooner," she murmurs, breath steadier now but still teetering on the edge of nervous.
You can feel the nerves radiating off of her, hot and uncomfortable and unstable in a way you've never felt from her before. To you, Dani's never been much of an anxious person—but... maybe all the noise has changed that. Just thinking that it has, that all the widespread negativity has changed that in her, makes you angry at yourself. Your heart swells at the weight of her words, how heavy they are with impact and the undertones of pain and sadness and everything you're been feeling but most likely ten times softer. You know you should've said something to soften the blows she's been carrying, know you should've been the first person to make a statement and apologize to everyone involved, but all that's on your mind right now is helping Dani and helping her now.
Helping her—you repeat the words back in your mind over and over again, like somehow the repeated reminder will make you understand what you mean by help her. There's nothing to help because she's not broken, and she's certainly not helpless. Matter of fact, she's far from helpless or weak. Dani's been strong enough to withstand the truckload of hate, threats, and endless weight on her name for the past few weeks, but you?
You've been in hiding, shielding yourself from everything you've deserved to hear and see in the same timeframe that Dani's been standing tall.
"Don't say that," you reply, tone defensive in a way she hasn't ever heard. "Please, don't say that about yourself. Don't let yourself believe this was—that this is—your fault, because it isn't, Dani. None of this is your fault," you explain, getting it all out in one breath. "If anything, all that's happened is entirely my fault—the articles, the fight, the downfall of your reputation, the way your management team even had to think about creating a safety net, the way they had to use it."
You sigh, fingers curling around the small of her back subconsciously. "It's my fault," you finalize, tone leaving no room for argument even if she really wanted to try. However, she knows not to. "Everything, from the start of... us, it was all my fault. It is all my fault."
Fault.
The blame game.
It's something that's frowned upon more times than it is praised or thought of as something good.
Sometimes, though, being at fault isn't the worst thing in the world. The things that come out of your mouth, the words, scenarios, past interactions... while, yes, most of them were pretty reckless and not thought out, Dani's pretty happy that a small amount of them were your fault. If not for you, she wouldn't be standing here. Hell, she wouldn't have even known you at all—and that's something she'd never wish upon herself in any universe.
"So if anyone should be sorry right now, it's me."
"And those nosy journalists."
You huff a laugh. "Yeah."
A beat passes before you look up again, gaze drifting from your wrists—nearly hidden from sight with how you're still holding her—to her eyes.
"Mostly me, though," you add, voice bordering weakness.
Dani hums, brows knitting in the slightest—like she's stopping herself from saying something that's right on the tip of her tongue. You squeeze her softly, urging her softly to say whatever it is she needs to say because you've done most of the talking. She hums, hesitating a second longer before she steps an inch closer, almost crossing the threshold of the hotel room.
"I meant it," she says, finally, eyes flicking upward. Her eyes are darker now, eyelids heavy with something you can't name, even from this close up—exhaustion, maybe. Frustration and anxiety, definitely. "When I said sorry, I... I meant that, Y/N."
You blink.
She continues. "I told you I needed space the last time we spoke when, in reality, I didn't. I didn't know what I needed then, I still have no clue what I'm supposed to do or what you're supposed to do to help me... feel better," Dani confesses, gaze dropping down, like she's submitting to something—fear—and you hate it. Still, she doesn't stop talking.
"This amount of attention, it's never been... It's never been exactly that. I've never experienced so many eyes on me, not even before you came into my life, and it's been both maddening and dizzying and scary, and—and fuck, Y/N, I love it and hate it at the same time." She states, eyes narrowing in the slightest. "I love that I get to be paired in the media with you, of all people, but sometimes it's exhausting, and I guess that's the reason I distanced myself from you. I'm still trying to figure out how to deal with that, all while maintaining my image—both my personal image and my group's image."
Her words land like a slap in the face, just... a soft one. Her intent isn't to hurt you, you're clear of that, but it hits you like it is anyway. The way in which she's explaining the relationship, like a burden, it hurts more to hear than it felt to wake up to read on multiple articles this morning. Your hold loosens on the girl, brows knitting in a mix of confusion and soft frustration.
Your hands fall from her waist before you even realize you've let go.
It isn't dramatic—there's no sharp movement, no sudden step back—but the space that suddenly opens up between you two feels cold anyway.
Like the air itself has shifted to fit itself to the newfound tension, almost freezing now, heavier. Dani notices immediately. Of course she does. Her eyes flick down to where your hands were planted just seconds ago, then back up yo your face, and something tightens in her expression.
"Hey," she says softly, instinctively reaching out again, fingers merely brushing your wrist like she's trying to reel you back in—she doesn't, however, because she has self control. "Y/N, wait, that's—"
"You just called us exhausting," you interrupt, not raising your voice, which somehow makes the situation you're in ten times worse. Your laugh is hollow, barely there, falling under the lines of some type of scoff. "Are you even hearing yourself, Dani?" You ask, eyes narrowed, brows furrowed even further if that was possible. Everything seemed to have been going well up until now, you just don't understand why she's been making the worst moves as of late.
But—oh, right—you're a burden.
"That's not what I meant," Dani insists, words tumbling out quicker now, panic edging into her tone without warning. "I didn't mean you—I meant the attention, the noise, the way everything we do gets twisted and blown up until it doesn't even feel like it belongs to us anymore," she defends, stepping even closer now, forcing you to step back into the hotel room now.
You scoff. "But it does belong to us," you say, finally meeting her eyes again—there's hurt there you're not even trying to hide anymore now, dark and tired and so, so real. "It's our relationship they're talking about—they've been talking about since forever. Our names, our lives. You can't just... separate me from that, Dani, and you sure as hell can't separate yourself from it either. I'm part of it whether you want me to be or not."
She flinches.
Just enough to be seen.
"That's not fair," she murmurs, frowning.
"Neither is being iced out without a proper conversation," you shoot back, frustration finally seeping through the cracks. "Neither is finding out from fucking PopBase that I'm suddenly your coworker."
Dani opens her mouth, then closes it again—because she has no idea what else to say, or maybe she just can't say anything that'll help this. Her shoulders slump, the fight draining out of her all at once. She doesn't have the energy to argue with you again, not after the week she's been struggling to get through. Her gaze drifts up again, slower this time, tired. "I didn't know what to do," she admits quietly. "And when I don't know how to control a situation, I shut down. You know that."
You do the same thing, everyone around you could back you up on that fact, so you can't blame her for being the exact same way. It just hurts to know her first thought was to distance herself from you when she didn't know how else to save... this—she could've talked to you, maybe even asked for help from her friends, your friends, anything other than blocking you out entirely and deciding on taking all the negativity from every different direction. You could've softened the blow, again, but the mere thought that you're rubbing off on her even in the worst ways has your mind in an uncontrollable frenzy.
Still, you can't help your anger. "Yeah, you're right." you say, voice tightening as the seconds pass. "I do, because you shut me out."
Silence stretches between you again, thick and uncomfortable, but different from before. This one feels necessary, like a wound finally exposed to air instead of being wrapped up and ignored for long periods of time.
The Latina exhales shakily, twisting a curl around two of her fingers. "I didn't block you out because I didn't care about the effect it'd have on you," she says. "I blocked you out because if I kept calling you every day and seeing your face, I was going to break. And I couldn't afford to break in public every time I got a message from you, not in front of my team, or in front of the girls because they always thought so highly of you." Dani continues, huffing gently and shifting her weight from her left foot to the right.
"As for today... At fansigns, they take our phones, so we can be fully immersed and focused on nothing but the fans and the real interaction. I decided to put my phone on silent before they did, which is part of the reason I hadn't known about your messages beforehand and didn't see the article until before I left. I couldn't stay after that, not with cameras in my face and staff members breathing down my neck and everyone waiting for me to say the wrong thing." She finishes, exhaling.
You swallow hard. The image hits you then—really, truly hits you in the moment. Dani at the fansign surrounded by her group, the fans, and the staff, smiling until her cheeks hurt because she didn't know anything about what was happening on the internet.
She was ready to sign albums and interact with new and old fans, all while the internet set your relationship on fire behind her back.
"I didn't know," you say quietly.
"I know," she replies just as softly. "That's the problem."
Dani takes a step closer again, cautious this time, like she's approaching something fragile that could break at any given moment. "I want to be so clear when I tell you this, I didn't agree to that statement," she says, firmer this time around, eyes on yours. "Nobody told me anything about it beforehand, didn't even think to ask my opinion on it, or if it was even okay to post. I don't think I would've agreed on it even if had protected you, too, which says more than what you probably wanted to hear, but it's true."
"Yes, maybe space was needed, but not in a way that hurt either of us," she explains.
You huff. "Well, space doesn't mean erasing me."
"I didn't think it would feel like this," she whispers. "I didn't think anybody would even find out that we were on a break, not anyone except for the girls. I didn't think that our conversation would hurt you like this."
"It did," you say simply—no venom, just truth. "It still does, even if it was my fault. You're not at fault for the decisions I made, but you trying to block me from every aspect of your life hurt more than I can explain."
Dani's eyes gloss over, tears threatening to fall but not betraying her just yet. She nods once, firm but hesitating in a way you've never seen from her, like she's accepting a verdict—a life-changing decision. "Then tell me what you need," she says, sniffling. "Right now. Not what the internet wants, not what my label wants, not what your team or fangirls want. What you need." She says, final and unyielding in her tone, but you can't speak. You want to know what she needs as well, not just what you need from her, because you know there's something she's been needing for the longest time now.
You hesitate a second too long due to that thought. It's not because you don't know—but because saying something like this out loud makes it real, makes it something that stands taller than anything else in the relationship. The same would go for Dani, if she would just talk to you and vocalize what she needs as well.
"I need to know you're not halfway out the door," you admit, gaze rising now. "I need to know that when things get hard, you're not going to cower at whatever decision your label makes and go with it when it's a decision that both of us should be making together," you murmur, tone wavering nervously. "I'll stand true to that too, I promise. I just... I need to know that loving me is something you're tolerating rather than enjoying."
Her breath stutters, inhaling shakily. "It's not," she says, stepping even closer.
The space between you is tight, hardly wide enough for anybody to squeeze past if they were in a rush... or if they were just being plain rude—Valentine's day is in two months, you wouldn't be surprised if someone interrupted you now. "It never has been, Y/N. I've always loved you, and I've never resented you or thought of my feelings for you as simply tolerating you. That's not what this is—what we are."
"Then don't talk about us like we're a burden," you say, voice breaking just a little. "Because I already feel like I'm ruining your entire life just by being..."
Alive, maybe.
A celebrity, one hundred percent.
You don't say either.
Instead, you huff and shake your head. "Just by being around you, and not just in the public eye when we're caught by cameras."
That does it.
Not for you.
For her.
She closes the little distance between you completely then, hands coming up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones like she's afraid you'll disappear if she doesn't hold on tight enough. Her hands, soft and warm, are a privilege you haven't been granted since before she began her promo tour.
You missed it, you missed it so much.
Dani finds your eyes without struggle, biting her lip like she's holding back from saying something important. "You don't ruin me," she says, passionately now, fierce, like she's fighting for something she knows is still alive and well. "You scare me sometimes. This life, Y/N, it scares sometimes in the same way you do. But you—God, you are not the problem. You never have been."
Instinctively, your eyes flutter shut at her touch, exhaustion finally crashing over you in waves—rough, overhead waves that pull you further and further under the current the longer you stand there. "Then why does it feel like I'm always the one fucking everything up and apologizing to everyone after?"
"Because you care," Dani says. "And because I haven't been brave enough to meet you there."
You open your eyes again, searching her face for any indications of doubt, of hesitation—but all you find etched across her features is a mix of fear and relief.
She exhales.
"Because I'm scared, too," she breathes.
"And I don't know how to fix this overnight," Dani continues, not leaving your gaze for even a minute. "I don't know how to fight my label without consequences, I don't know how to be in love under a million hungry, nitpicking eyes either. But I do know I don't wanna lose you."
You nod, humming in quiet understanding, though the noise doesn't make it past your throat. "I don't wanna lose you, either."
Dani opens her mouth to continue, but you can't let her add on without getting something off your chest—Kennedy, the way you invited her to your house, the way you got too comfortable, the way she thought it was okay to kiss you, the way you let her because you didn't know what else to do in that moment. It's been clawing at every inch of your skin, lingering like a rash, or a million bug bites spread all across your body, uncomfortable.
You can't let that big of a detail fly under the radar, not this time, because you can't have another rerun of that. "You're still hurt, too," you observe, glassy eyes finding hers again, not even realizing your gaze had drifted away. "We're both hurt, in our own ways, in different shapes and forms, and... and we can't help that, but—but it'll only get worse if we continue to keep secrets."
Her fingers still on your face falter, thumbs slowing like she's afraid to move them now. Dani's brows knit together, confusion bleeding into worry. You can see her trying to piece together what you mean, what you're circling around but not quite saying—not out loud, at least. "And that's the thing," you continue, quieter now, steadier in that dangerous way that comes right before everything spills out without hesitation. "That—that feeling, the hurt? That's the reason I came out to Korea in the first place, why I wanted to talk to you. Of course, before the article, before all of this happened... I needed to tell you something, and I let myself take a day before flying out because I was too scared to explain it to you."
"I didn't know how to say it without sounding like I was making excuses," you let out a shaky breath, eyes finally dropping from hers to the space between you. "Then... the article happened," you add. "And you were suddenly here, and this isn't how I wanted to do this, Dani. At all—but I guess I'm doing it anyway."
Dani's hands fall from your face now, not because she wants or means them to, but because your words have knocked the air out of her lungs.
"...Tell me what?" She asks softly.
You swallow.
"I—I made another bad decision," you confess.
The silence that follows is sharp, immediate.
The Latina doesn't interrupt, she doesn't rush you even in the slightest. She just watches you with that same intensity she always wears when she knows something important is coming—something that might hurt.
"I invited Kennedy over," you say, cutting straight to the chase because you know if you don't, you'll lose your nerve and back out. "To my apartment. I... I didn't know who else to call. Everyone else would've just told me the same shit I've been hearing on a loop for the past two weeks—that I need to apologize to you, that I need to do something other than sit around and hide from everything, that I should stay away from you for your own good."
Your jaw clenches. "I didn't want advice," you murmur, tone lower now, almost a whisper. "I didn't want another lecture or some long talk. I just wanted to see someone who wasn't already disappointed in me."
Dani's lips part, but no sound comes out.
"She kissed me," you say quickly, the words heavy, ugly in your mouth. "She initiated it. And I—" your voice cracks, frustration flaring—at yourself, at Kennedy, at everything except for the girl in front of you. "I didn't pull away, not fast enough. And Billie caught us."
There it is.
You've gone past the point of no return.
Her breath stutters, eyes widening just slightly before her expression stutters, something defensive and wounded falling into place.
Still, she doesn't speak—she lets you finish.
"I didn't feel anything," you rush to say, stepping closer without even realizing. "Nothing—it meant nothing to me. I felt disgusted the second it happened, like I was actively betraying you and choosing Kennedy over someone who actually cared... you. I still feel that way," you admit, sucking in a breath. "I swear to you, Dani, it wasn't about wanting her. It wasn't about replacing you temporarily. It was about me being stupid and lonely and panicking because I thought I was already losing you."
You laugh, weak and shaky and downright embarrassing—albeit, despite the topic you're currently explaining, Dani finds it more cute than anything—as you drag a hand down your face. "Which—congratulations to me—I managed to make it so much worse."
Dani finally moves, stepping half a foot back like she needs space just to breathe. Her arms cross over her chest, not defensively, but protectively, like she's holding herself together by force... and also because she has no idea what to do with her hands otherwise.
"So you hurt me," she says slowly, carefully, "Because you thought you'd already lost me."
"Yeah," you whisper. "And I hate myself for it."
The hallway feels too quiet now, too still, like the world has paused just to watch the two of you interact in real time—except this time, it's nowhere near good. It's like you're on the jumbotron, conversation broadcast for everyone to see and for all the lip-readers on social media to decipher what you and she are talking about. Like the universe is watching you two fall apart. "I'm not asking you to forgive me," you, add quickly, stepping back—because you wouldn't forgive yourself either.
"I'm not asking you to understand it or justify it or pretend none of it ever happened. I'm telling you because you deserve the truth this time," you say, chest tightening at the reminder of every bad decision you chose not to tell her about. "You've deserved it since the first time I lied to you, about my team issues. You deserve it from me, not from an article. Not from someone else's mouth, or someone else's social media account, or your friends."
Your eyes meet hers again, glassy but steady in a way you know she's been needing you to be for a while now. "I didn't lay it off to protect myself. I laid it off because I was scared to hear your reaction—see your reaction. And, Dani, before you say anything, I know that doesn't make it even half as better. I know it'll probably make it a million times worse, as everything has been lately."
Dani's jaw tightens, a tear slipping free despite her efforts to hold it back. She wipes it away angrily, shaking her head firmly once.
"You keep saying you're trying," she murmurs, sniffling once, twice. "And I believe you, I do. But every time things get hard, you self-destruct and self-sabotage. And somehow I'm always standing right in your radius."
The words hurt because they're true.
And because they remind you of a conversation you had.
⸝⸝
"why not?"
"...kennedy. i'm... scared of what happened to me last time because i was sure. i was so—i was all in. and then..." you let the sentence die in the back of your throat. "you know what happened."
the room stills, heavy but not suffocating. just honest. they both know. they were there; they were the ones who sat with you on this same couch when the pictures dropped, when the entire internet became a firing squad aimed directly at you, kennedy, and isaiah, when you couldn't leave your apartment for a week.
tate exhales slowly. "right, i get that. but dani isn't kennedy, Y/N."
"i know," you whisper. "but i don't wanna mess this up. she's... different, too honest, too good. she'd rather break my heart to my face than go behind my back like that." you breathe out shakily. "and i think that scares me even more."
"then treat her like she's different," tate says simply. "don't rush, don't force anything, but don't lie to her either. and don't avoid the feeling just because you're scared of it."
laroi finally speaks, surprisingly thoughtful as he straightens up and turns to you. "and stop doing that thing where you pull away the second something feels too good," he says, scooting forward until he's sat on the edge of the couch cushion. "you self-sabotage. all the time. you can't do that with her if you want it to work."
you stare at him, noticing his eyes are still on the TV screen even while giving you advice. "...you're not even looking at me, dude."
"i'm literally staring at the paused in-game version of you," he deadpans. "you're delusional."
tate brushes him off. "what he means is he agrees with me."
he shrugs but doesn't deny it.
⸝⸝
God.
What have you done?
"I don't wanna hurt you anymore," you say. "I don't want to be the reason you're scared or exhausted or questioning everything. But I also don't want to keep pretending that pushing me away is the same as protecting yourself."
A beat passes.
Two.
"But... now you know," you finish quietly. "Everything. And whatever you decide to do after this... I'll take it. I just needed you to hear it from me first, before it somehow gets compiled into some shitty article." Dani looks at you for a long moment, expression unreadable now—hurt, love, anger, fear all tangled and twisted up into her gaze into something almost unrecognizable.
She huffs, exhausted.
"This," she says finally, voice barely above a whisper, "Is exactly why it hurts so much."
It hurts more than if she'd yelled it.
It hurts more because she's soft about it—not dismissive, just tired and completely over every bullshit article, secret, and everything everyone else but you and her has to say about you two.
You don't answer her right away.
Instead, you step back and gesture toward the doorway—something you should've done fifteen minutes ago—fingers curling loosely around the handle.
"Come in," you murmur. It's not an order, not a plea. Just an invitation, a weak one at that—one last offering of space that's partly yours. She hesitates for half a second, then nods and steps past you cautiously. You close the door behind her softly, the click of the lock sounding louder than it should. The room feels smaller now, warmer, heavy with everything you've both said and everything else that you haven't just yet.
For the first time since she arrived, you really look at her.
Not the Dani the world sees.
Not the one from headlines or fancams or carefully curated compilations of her being silly with her members.
Just her—tired eyes creasing at the edges, shoulders so tense it almost makes you believe she hasn't let herself rest in days, lips pressed together like she's holding herself upright through sheer willpower. She looks breakable, more than that—broken already, maybe. Real and standing just a few feet from you. Yours, in the way that still feels instinctive even now.
You exhale, running a shaky hand through your hair. "Have we always been this bad for each other?" you ask quietly, sighing softly. The question slips out before you can even attempt to stop it.
"Like..." you trail off. "Was this ever going to work? Or were we just—" you shake your head, mind pounding with an impending headache. "Dani, were we seriously just kidding ourselves?"
Her answer comes immediately.
Too fast to be rehearsed in any way.
"No," she says—firm, certain. "Don't do that."
You blink.
"I've always wanted this to work," Dani continues, stepping closer without even realizing she's doing it—it has to be instinct, at this point. "I still do. Just because things keep going wrong for us, keep going against us, and keep praying on our downfall, doesn't mean it was wrong to want it in the first place." She swallows. "Things don't always go in our favor, I know that. And yeah, sure, it's confusing and it hurts more than I thought it ever would."
Her voice wavers, just slightly. "But I don't think I've ever wanted anything more than I've wanted this."
Than she's wanted you.
The words hang in the air between you, fragile and terrifying and beautiful all at once.
She goes quiet then.
Really quiet.
Dani's gaze drops to the carpet, arms folding into her chest again, like she's bracing for something she knows is coming but doesn't know how to face. The silence envelopes the room, thick and suffocating, filled with every memory— every laugh, every late-night call, every almost, and every too-late.
Finally, she speaks again.
"You said..." Dani trails off, biting the inside of her cheek without thought. She hesitates, breath hitching, then looks back up at you.
Her eyes are teary again.
Yours now, too.
"You said 'I love you,'" she finishes softly. "Did you mean it?"
For a second, you can't breathe.
Everything stops—the noise, the fear, the instinct to defend yourself. There's no room for anything but honesty here now. You stand there, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might crack your ribs and jump out.
Then you answer.
"Yes," you say immediately—no pause, no doubt. "Gosh, Dani, Yes. I meant it."
You step closer, close enough that she can hear the shake in your voice. "I meant it with everything I have," you say, gently. "With all my heart, with all my soul. I didn't say it lightly, Dani—I didn't say it as something to make you feel bad, or because I just throw that word out there... I said it because it was true."
Without warning, your throat tightens. "It's still true."
"I love you, Daniela."
Her breath catches, a quiet, broken sound slipping past her lips as her eyes shine brighter than before, more tears finally spilling over. And for the first time since she walked into your hotel room, kept her distance, and listened to you as you spoke, she doesn't look like she's getting ready and preparing to run.
She looks like she's listening.
Like she believes you.
And that—somehow—feels just as terrifying as it does hopeful.
She doesn't hesitate after that—not really.
Maybe there's a half-second where something flickers across her face, fear or resolve or both tangled together—but then she's crossing the space left between you, stepping into you, and her mouth is on yours. The kiss could be described as anything but gentle. She kisses you—hard, desperate, like she's been waiting for this for weeks—and the force of it sends you stumbling back until your lower spine hits the edge of the small desk holding the TV. The wood presses into you as you brace your palms on the empty sliver of space beside it, the screen rattling faintly with the intensity of the movement.
She's everywhere—her hands clutching your shirt like she's afraid you'll disappear if she loosens her grip, her breath is uneven and breaking repeatedly against your lips, her kiss is messy. Too much teeth, too much emotion, too real for something as... unbelievable as the situation you've been stuck in for the past two weeks. There's no choreography to it, nothing rehearsed, no restraint. It's all the things you weren't allowed to say, weren't allowed to do, weren't allowed to feel, crashing together all at once.
Your hands find her waist instinctively, fingers digging in like muscle memory has taken over before your brain can catch up and panic. With the same urgency, you kiss her back, like you're trying to make up for every unanswered message, every night spent blocking out your own issues, every second you convinced yourself you were losing her. It feels like pouring everything you have left into one small, short moment and hoping it's enough to fulfill not just her, but you as well. Maybe fix whatever is broken between you, if there is anything completely shattered. Or maybe, just maybe, it's only hanging on by a thread, not completely unable to be fixed just yet.
Time passes by in a blur.
Neither of you is sure how long it lasts—seconds disappear, minutes stretch—but somewhere in the middle of it, you feel something warm and wet against your cheek. At first you think it's the heat of the kiss, the closeness, but then you pull back just enough to see it.
When you do, you're breathless, lips already swelling from the intensity, eyes already half-lidded and mesmerized by the sight before you.
She's crying.
And yet, she still looks beautiful.
Silent tears are rolling down her cheeks, catching on her lashes, mascara smearing between you as you stay pressed together. The sight of that, of her, knocks the breath straight from your lungs—and suddenly, everything screeches to a quick halt.
Because no matter how beautiful she looks, no matter how desperately she's pressing you against the table, you know better than to make any bolder moves before checking in on her and asking if this is okay—if she wants this, if she really, truly wants this as bad as you do. If this isn't just a one-night thing, something neither of you will forget about in the morning or any of the future ones, something that'll bond you even closer, not just some temporary fix because she felt it in the moment.
"Hey—hey," you breathe, pulling back fully now, hands still firm on her hips like you're scared her knees will buckle if you let her go.
Your forehead rests against hers, your voice shaking despite how hard you try to steady it, no matter how hard you try to stay strong for her. "Is this okay? Are you okay?" You search her face, panic creeping in, guilt settling soon after. "Dani, I—I don't wanna fuck this up any more than I know I already have. I need to know..." you trail off, too focused on gauging her expression that might hint at any emotions she's trying to hide. "Dani, I need to know that you really want this."
She doesn't hesitate at all this time.
"I want it," she says immediately, nodding even as more tears spill over. Her voice is firm, grounded, like she's anchoring herself—and you—at the same time. "I do. I promise, baby, I want this—I want you."
Something in your chest finally breaks.
Gently, you guide her away from the desk, every movement careful now, like you're handling something precious—because you are, you really are. Step by step, you walk her backwards until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress. She falls back onto the sheets with a soft exhale, hair fanning across the pillow, glassy eyes never leaving yours even as you straighten up for a moment. You follow her down, hovering for a split second like you're afraid the wrong move will shatter the fragile peace you've just found.
Then you lean down, pressing your forehead to hers once more, breathing in the scent of her like you've been starved of the girl.
"I love you," you whisper, the words breaking free at last, finally out in the open air.
"I love you so much." You say it again, and again, like repetition might make it stick, like the world can't take it from you and twist it if you say it enough times. "Fuck everyone else—the media, our management teams, fuck them all."
She lets out a small, broken laugh through her tears, her fingers curling at the hem of your shirt, gripping tight like she's choosing you now over everything else—like she's choosing this.
It isn't perfect.
It isn't clean or easy or free of consequences.
But, if anything, it's real.
And for the first time in days—maybe even weeks—you're not spiraling, not explaining, not apologizing to empty air.
I've started reading this without realizing it wasn't a standalone. Watch me go through a crisis while I get from the start because I of course was missing context.
ICE is in my town. By my university. On my campus. We get emails about what to do. Students avoid walking on the main roads. This is real.
If you are someone who has been in denial, who has said they are “only taking criminals”
OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES
I couldn’t care less if they were criminals, no one deserves to be yanked off the streets and disappeared. No child deserves to be used as bait. No parent deserves to send their kid to school praying that they’ll come home. No person deserves to be treated like they are less than.
SPEAK UP. This is your community. Your people. What are you doing with you voice?
I have a schedule... Somehow, kinda, of how I'm gonna post the Avatar au
After finishing the Manon piece, someday, God knows when but hopefully for next week, I'll get to the Megan part of the au, and then Dani. After that it'll be Sophia and lastly Yoonchae. However y'all can throw in asks for what I'm writing. I can't promise I'll be answering quickly, and if you ask for little drabbles from the universe it might take me a long time, but I promise I'll answer.
Warnings: Mentions of war and injuries, discussion of war. There's a mention of a burning scar... Or a few mentions.
Tags: Fire Nation!Lara, Fire Nation!Warrior!Reader, Angst (a little bit), very slow burn, only physical mention is of the reader having amber eyes. I think that's all, but let me know if I'm missing something.
The war was full of battles won almost before being fought, but there were also gruesome losses. Lara knew that well, and that was the reason why she went onto the battlefield as a healer.
Most of the time she had to tend to young kids, warriors far too eager to prove themselves on the battlefield, used as bait by the older officials. It was rare to see Commanders, or even Captains. They weren't on the front field, they weren't the ones really risking their lives.
Or so she thought until you were brought to her. Captain Y/LN, barely hanging onto life after the siege of Ba Sing Se.
“Fought on her own ten earth benders so the rest of her battalion could retire. If not for her... They were important, so many losses would've made it more difficult.” One of the officers who brought the Captain spoke
“And what happened to her?” Lara asked as she started taking off the crushed parts of the armor.
“Rocks, big ones I'd say. Crushed her like an insect. We thought she was dead if not for the fire line she was drawing with her fingers.” The other official spoke, turning around in disgust as soon as he saw how the armor seemed to be fusing with her body.
“So she's alive.”
“Or was.”
If the Captain was alive, she didn't have a lot of time, so she quickly dismissed the warriors and got to work on it. There was a faint pulse, and an attempt at breathing. Y/N was alive, now Lara had to make sure to keep it that way.
Lara learned in the next few hours enough of Y/N, and she was sure she was learning even more than she could have if the Captain was awake. The warrior had used her own firebending skills to get a layer of magma on her body. It had burned her, leaving a red scar all over, but it had saved her, it had been what burnt the boulder into not crushing her completely. That layer of magma had been the difference between a heroic death or a battle for staying alive.
Now all healer and Y/N had to do was wait. Wait for her to come back alive, for her to heal.
Lara got a routine now that she had to take care of Y/N. She'd take care of all the other patients first, knowing there'd be no chance in the Captain, however once she was done with others, she'd go take care of the warrior laying in bed. She'd change her bandages, she'd treat her other wounds, and even look at the old scars the Captain had on her. There were many, and most of them were old.
At some point, they were moved from the tent on the outskirts of Ba Sing Se. The infirmary was set in a hospital belonging to the people of the Earth Kingdom, forced to give a wing for those injured in war. Lara was put in charge of said wing, and she still paid attention to all the people, slowly recovering.
People started to come to Y/N's room with time. All of them were people from the army, superiors, people you commanded, even those too young and too cocky came and even worried.
That's when Lara knew who Y/N was outside war. A girl born in the fire islands, family of warriors, of fire benders. None of them cared, or at least, no one who knew her well thought they did. Her military path was the only thing you've chosen, the only thing that would push her away from them. Y/N liked it that way.
All of the people she called friends knew she'd leave the infirmary and Ba Sing Se the second she could. The Captain was not someone who sought a place to call home, she wanted to keep serving, to be loved and cheered in a way that was hollow, but filled a void her family carved.
Many stories followed after that, and Lara got to hear many things about the abilities of Captain Y/LN. Great at war, a wonderful friend, kind to kids and elders, always making sure no civilian was harmed, only the warriors. Everything she heard about the Captain was so good she was starting to doubt why she was told so many good things.
“We swear she is like that, even if she'd get her ego in the sky if she heard us speaking so well of her.” Changbin was quick to speak, as if he had messed up some sort of plan.
“We're just expecting you to know that she's so good and caring that she'll launch herself to war at any second if you allow her.” Felix continued where Changbin left the phrase, trying to steer it into the path the trio wanted it to.
“And we don't want you to allow it so easily.” Karina, the commander and close friend of the Captain, finally stopped beating around the bush.
Lara understood the trio in front of her and Y/N were close, or at least as close as one could be in an army where anyone could die at any battle. But that didn't mean she would do what they wanted instead of just doing her job.
“I'll allow it when I see it fit.”
“Just... Make sure she's completely fit for it.” Changbin tried once again.
“Are you implying I should stop her from leaving?” Lara asked, the surprise in her voice not lost to the trio of warriors.
“Would you be willing to marry her for it?” Felix asked, making Lara take a step back in shock.
“Ignore them... They're always this crazy.”
The raspy voice was one Lara hadn't known yet, but it was still obvious who was speaking. It came from the bed Y/N had been, and by the difficulty of it, there was no question it was from her.
The four people in the room looked back at the Captain, who was already trying to sit down. Lara could now understand why she was told to retain Y/N, as it was obvious they were trying to convince everyone she was well enough to go.
Lara went to aid her, sitting her down carefully, not wanting to touch the ribs or any injury. The trio looked at her as if waiting for Lara to give them the get go, yet she only looked back at them with a look that admitted no more visitors from that moment.
“I think this visit is over, I need to check on her, and I need her quiet.”
Karina looked at Lara offended, as if she couldn't believe she was given orders. Yet, the dark skinned woman held her gaze, not allowing any argument.
“Yes, of course, she needs rest after all” Karina spoke like she was the one who gave the order.
The trio walked out, and as soon as they did so, Y/N tried to stand, stopped by Lara's hand.
“Captain Y/LN, you're in no shape to stand, you shouldn't even be sitting after what happened.”
Y/N knew that well, the pain shot up her spine worse than the feeling of the rock colliding against her. But pain was all she knew ever since her first battle against the Earth Kingdom, and pain was all she would know until there were no more earth benders in the world. Or maybe until she died in battle. Both things were equally possible.
“Miss, I think...”
“You can't speak either, you're still healing, and you have a lot of healing to do before you can speak again. So I'd advise you to be smart in which battles you are picking.”
Y/N would've said she was smart on that, she had led battles, real ones, and there had been many lives saved by her choices. However, with the way her body hurt she was going to also not choose that battle. She didn't need to speak at all.
Lara seemed to notice the reticence to keep herself quiet. But Lara didn't need to worry about Y/N moving or speaking, since she seemed to understand there was no need for her to do so.
Taking care of the Captain while she was awake wasn't as nice as it had been to take care of her when she was unconscious. She had far too many opinions, and tried far too many times to do things her way. Lara could now understand why other healers were so quick to let her go, and it was because Y/N was probably everyone's worst patient. However, Lara was not about to be part of that, much less when the Captain had broken ribs.
In the following days, Lara had to start relying on other healers to take care of other patients, realizing the Captain was an all time trouble. The healer wasn't sure if her watching the exits meant paranoia or the warrior planning an escape, and she noticed how Y/N clenched her jaw when the pain hit.
Lara decided she could work with the way the Captain seemed to bite her tongue each time she instructed her something, and how Y/N silently hated to be there. That didn't mean the Captain became an easier patient, she still waited for Lara to go out of her room to try to move, only to stop in the middle of it because it was too painful. She tried to ignore the fact that her body was too weak, that she needed help, but it wasn't as easy.
The healer learned to take care of her in silence, to look at the scars and burnt marks and not say a word, even if Y/N could see everything she wanted to say just through words. And even then, her hands lingered while she changed the bandage, while she helped without words to sit her, or even when Y/N went into coughing fits.
They barely even spoke, yet Y/N felt the room colder when Lara wasn't around, and the time passing quicker when she was around. Sometimes Y/N held onto Lara's sleeve when she coughed, when her still broken ribs felt like they were piercing her lungs. It was normal, Lara had told her, it'd pass with time as she healed.
Lara had also offered her different things to drink, it'll lessen the pain, it'd get her on some sort of unconsciousness that would prevent her from feeling pain. Y/N accepted none. She wanted to be awake, she was willing to accept the pain. Even if it meant having to stand the people close to her trying to convince her to stay in Ba Sing Se. She was even told the higher ups were planning to make her a commander, which made her even more antsy to get back to the battlefield. Even if some of her friends had asked her to stay in the capital.
“So, Commander Y/LN now?” Lara asked in a cheerful tone, knowing that would put Y/N in a good mood.
“Commander Y/N is fine.”
While Lara had expected the good mood to only go as far as to not try to fight her with the help, she hadn't expected the attempt at dropping formalities. And she wasn't about to refuse.
“Commander Y/N it is.”
Lara didn't say anything else, thinking it was one of those times where Y/N decided to test her lung strength by speaking more than two words. However, she didn't notice the now-Commander's frown on her face, almost finding it offensive that Lara didn't say anything else.
“You know, where I come from people tend to...”
The warrior started coughing almost violently, her amber eyes watering both from pain and the coughing. Lara quickly walked forward, not rushing, but worried nevertheless. She put a hand on Y/N's back and chest, making sure to not press but also keep her still.
“Nine words are all your body can handle. That's improvement.” It was not an encouragement from Lara, but rather just a statement of the development.
“I want to know your name.”
After those words had been said, Lara saw Y/N's eyes. For the first time, they lingered on her without studying her. Her eyes never lingered. They scanned, calculated, moved on. Whatever softness they might have held had been burned away long before the war reached Ba Sing Se. Maybe they never were warm, but always meant to be a fire that burnt everyone with its intensity.
Now, however, they weren't as threatening. They still had its fire, yes, but not the kind of fire of a person who broke into cities with ease.
It took her a few seconds to notice Y/N hadn't asked about her name, and no one who came into that room had either. She was called ma'am, Miss Healer, and the now Commander hadn't even tried to get her attention by calling her in any way. Each time she had spoken, Lara had heard. Y/N didn't really need to know her name, she could've kept on speaking like she was trying to give orders. For some reason, she didn't want to.
And she didn't need to give her a name, she could just tell her “Miss Raj is okay.” like she did with every other patient. But with a patient as stubborn as the commander, someone who spoke like she was giving orders, it felt almost like a personal victory to be on a first name basis. Especially if the commander had asked to be called by her name.
“I'm Lara.” After a small silence, one full of thoughts and eyes unwavering, Lara had answered.
“Lara.”
The name was said like she was committing that sound to memory, even if there was a ghost of a smile on her face.
That day there's something that changes. Before, they were simply following a routine, a routine Y/N allowed, now it was more like a dance. A battle, the Commander would say. A battle she was apparently losing because Lara could anticipate her movements, when she felt like she was being useless and needed to try to regain her strength. Those went especially bad, both because of the pain and the feeling that was left in her. Somehow, Lara knew how to soothe that.
Lara also knew Y/N would start pushing too hard someday, she'd hit the breaking point with her being named Commander unofficially, with the news of her battalion possibly being reassigned somewhere else, wherever the next stage of the war would be taken. She even knew the reason they both were still there was because Y/N wasn't fully healed, otherwise they'd both be wherever they were needed.
However, there was only enough she could stand while being quiet before it was too much.
It came down the day the Commander had tried to stand, unsupported, with no one there to see. The solitude had been a choice, as she knew Lara wouldn't agree. Lara had the idea of a long recovery, a slow one. One that would be good for her body, but not for the war outside. The type of recovery she should accept, but refused every time just to go back to the battlefield half recovered.
But as if she had a sixth sense with it, Lara had gotten in by the time Y/N was sliding out of bed, her feet almost touching the ground and face in between pain and concentration.
Lara got closer, slowly, just because she didn't want to scare Y/N into falling. But the Commander had seen her, had felt her presence even before she walked to her or even spoke.
“Get back into bed, you know this isn't doing you any good.” Lara's tone was sharp, despite the volume not raising at all
Y/N's eyes went to Lara, as if she was trying to decide her next movement. But as pain shot up her body, it was obvious she wouldn't be able to do anything but to get back to bed. She was still too weak to even stand, there would be no other option than to go back to the bed, being aided by Lara. Somehow, it felt more shameful than losing to earth benders.
“Ba Sing Se has fallen, the princess took out the Earth King, there's nothing you need to worry about. The war will be there by the time you recover.”
Lara knew it wasn't completely true, with Ba Sing Se falling, there was nothing stopping the Fire Nation from world domination, but there was probably some new war waiting to break as soon as that one finished.
“The Water Tribe can barely be called a threat, the war will be over by the time I'm out of here” Y/N was quick to call her out, even if her voice was barely there from the exertion.
Lara raised an eyebrow after hearing her, as if she wanted to point out she wouldn't even be able to make it into the barracks in the state she was in. Yes, now she could sit on her own, yes, now she could speak a few words, but there was a big jump between the progress she had made and the ability to stand up. And she was even further away from walking without being in pain and able to properly breath. Her lung was still not well enough, and her ribs were definitely not healed at all.
“And if you get out of here right now, you'll have a dozen battles that'll barely be worth being in, and then the war will be over, and then you'll have no war to fight. In either case, war is almost over.” And Lara was being optimistic with the dozen of battles. She'd probably fall even before the battle started, and she'd be left there to be counted as a loss in battle.
“Exactly, almost over, and I have to be there until it's over, it's my duty as a Commander, as part of the Fire Nation's Army.”
“And once there's no war? What's of you then? Half healed scars and some important wins at your hands.”
Lara could see the way Y/N swallowed, her words landing far too close to a truth she apparently didn't want to see.
“There's always a new fight, a new war. There's the Avatar, and there are rebels, there's always people.”
“So what? You charge into battle until you die? Because yes, there's always the next battle, but when are you allowed to be yourself and not a weapon serving the fire nation?” Only then she raised her voice, worry and anger mixing to make her voice crack.
Y/N looked at her, the way her eyes seemed to shine differently, like lone stars in the middle of a troubled night, showing feelings the Commander wasn't ready to face.
“You don't know anything about war.”
Lara moved away, as if those words had hurt her, and Y/N saw it on her face, something the woman quickly hid and masked with something akin to anger.
“I don't know war like you, that's true. But I know the aftermath of it. I've seen many people die, so many young people chasing glory, to serve Ozai right. I've seen so many people mourn their children, their parents, their siblings. I've seen what war causes, I've had to walk through battlefields before they went fully cold to try to save lives. So I'm sorry if I don't want to know or understand war, but I'd never treat it with respect when they've killed people on both sides.”
Y/N hadn't thought of it until that point, what Lara could have seen of war. Only then it dawned on the Commander that she hadn't been her only patient, and that she saved her because she had treated thousands of people on the brink of death before.
Only then, she realized that she had blood on her hands from killing people, and Lara had to stand seeing people die in her hands because she tried to save them. And only Lara lived with the guilty of the dead.
So far, Y/N never felt guilty, she never even thought about death, either hers or others. After all, all she knew was war, about having to kill or be killed, surviving by any means. That was all she knew, and what she never questioned. A family of warriors, military people who went back to even before Fire Lord Sozin decided to start expending the Nation. Even if she had intended to escape her family, she ended up doing everything they would have expected her to.
Before she could even say sorry to Lara, to offer her a sincere apology for being an idiot, Lara was already out of the room, leaving her alone to think about all the things she had done wrong, and all the things she shouldn't have said.
After that, Lara seemed to have found a new routine in the care of the Commander. She made sure her burnt scar healed, her ribs were healing well too, and even started to make sure to track the progress on what Y/N could do on her own. It all became too clinical, she didn't stay longer than needed, and neither engaged in anything outside of medical reports.
It was a complete withdrawal, one Y/N felt too deeply, and hurt more than her body ever hurt. Even when she started doing big steps in her recovery, it felt hollow, as Lara wasn't there. Or rather, she was there physically, but didn't react other than correcting something or telling her when it was enough.
The Commander felt there was not even space for her to ask for forgiveness, as Lara barely looked at her when she called her name, only to ask if the woman needed something and shut her down as soon as she realized the topic wasn't about the recovery.
Perhaps, Y/N had lost the chance to apologize, if she ever had, the moment Lara walked out after the argument.
By the time Y/N fully recovered, the eclipse had passed, and Omashu had fallen back into the Earth Kingdom's hands. Y/N knew everyone would be sent there, even herself, and her battalion. She was finally getting everything she wanted ever since she woke up, and yet... It didn't feel the same.
Lara watched her walk away with her hair braided by herself, and a tunic that looked too much like other martial tunics she had seen, the same red with the gold lining in the collar. The commander looked just like all the other warriors, so different from the body left in the stretcher for the gods to decide her fate.
And yet, Lara couldn't help but feel some kind of ache deep in her soul from seeing her go.
She was one of those higher ups she hated because they never cared about what war took from others, and somehow, she was deep inside her heart already.
Lara went back to work after Y/N. There were still people injured, especially since Ba Sing Se was revolting against the Fire Nation's regime, and there were small pockets of rebellion everywhere. She hadn't heard from Y/N ever again, like she had vanished into the war. The healer simply continued with her life, thinking the Commander was in some part of the Earth Kingdom, in the middle of the battlefield.
She didn't know how wrong she was until the truth came knocking on her door.
It had been a normal day, with the only patients there being some softly injured from revolts inside Ba Sing Se. Some young people who didn't even need to stay at the hospital after being taken care of. Lara thought it was one of those many warriors when she saw Y/N at the door.
“Why are you here?” Lara frowned, but there was no anger in it, but rather the surprise of seeing someone who she hadn't expected to see ever again.
“Commander Y/N Y/LN, in Charge of the security of Ba Sing Se.”
That made her freeze, almost as if she needed to process those words with all her body, and even her soul.
“May I come in?” Y/N asked, standing at the door with perfect posture, almost as if she was there to deliver militar orders.
“Yes, of course, please have a seat.”
The commander walked in almost shyly, completely different to the way she had spoken to Lara, and Lara was quick to close the door, still trying to piece together the new information with what she knew of Y/N. How could the girl who was trying to run back to battle with broken ribs stay in Ba Sing Se when war was getting harder everywhere? She could be in Omashu taking it back for the Fire Nation, or be back at the Capital, where the Avatar could burst in at any second. And yet, she was still in Ba Sing Se.
“I owe you an apology for what I've said the last time we spoke. You were right, you knew of war, and you knew even better than myself.”
“It's...” Lara had to quickly try to find her words, as this was starting to sound like a lie. “It's okay, we just knew war from different perspectives, you just never tried to see it a different way.”
”Well, yes. Which leads to the other thing you were right on.” Y/N spoke timidly, evidently not used to saying she was wrong.
“Is this your way to tell me you're dying, because I never thought I'd see the day you'd tell me you're right twice in a conversation, or apologize to me.”
“Seeing the worry in your eyes that day made me realize quite a few things. Before you, no one ever cared.”
Y/N's eyes dropped to the floor, the weight of the admission being bigger now that she had said it out loud. She knew her family didn't care, they would even see it as honor for her to die in battle, as they would've thought of their own deaths in the battlefield. Yet she hadn't even accepted out loud, that those she called her friends didn't care about their own lives, much less about hers.
“Yes, Karina, Changbin, and Felix were trying to get me to stay, but only because they knew I'd go back to the battlefield without even being able to stand.” There was another pause, a breath that came out staggered, and Lara couldn't help but get one of her hands over Y/N's “But in the end, they didn't have fear to lose me, like they just expected me my days to end in a battlefield.”
The Commander looked up, not looking at Lara in the eyes, but running over her face, like she was trying to not feel the truth by letting her mind wander in the woman in front of her.
“And I never had to worry about dying until you were scared for me, because before you, I could've died against those earthbenders and I would've been just another tomb.” Y/N sighed, but turned her arm around to hold Lara's hand. “I can't say I'm not the same warrior anymore, because a part of me will always be the firebender who throws herself to battle, but... I'm trying to not let it define myself, to be more than just a weapon for war.”
Lara stood up, letting go of the Commander's hand softly, yet the warrior expected her to now say she wouldn't forgive her right away. However, what she did surprised the woman, as Lara hugged her.
“I care about you. Not about Commander Y/LN, or about the mythical Ashen Fang, it's just Y/N for me.”
It felt like being born again. Not the moment where she woke up after being on the brink of death, but right there, when someone had made her be seen as a person, and not a weapon. She had believed earning the title of Ashen Fang would mean something, would give her some sense of self. None of what she felt compared to hearing Lara say she cared about her.
She didn't know what being Y/N meant, she was still figuring out what she was outside of being a warrior, but what she knew was that she wanted Lara in whatever it meant to live as herself.
“Miss Lara Raj?” Y/N spoke as she put her arms awkwardly around the healer, not knowing if interrupting the calmness was a good idea.
“Woah, full name, back to martial Y/N I see.”
Lara felt something new happen under her jab, and that was the laugh she heard from Y/N coming from her chest.
“Lara is still okay then?”
“I'm hugging you, having you call me Lara wouldn't be strange.”
“Alright then, Lara, I wanted to invite you to come with me to a nice tea house I've found near. They serve what I've come to think of as the best Oolong and Orange Blossom tea.”
“Y/N is a tea master, that was unexpected. I'll accept, but only so I can judge your taste better.”
“I hope I can give you more reasons to accept next time.”
For those wondering if I'm actually writing the Avatar au, yes I am but y'all stumbled onto the blog of someone who doesn't have the slightest ability to concentrate (actually I wrote the first 1k in an hour, but from there it's been uphill)
So welcome to the first taste of what's this blog's gonna be like. Things are gonna be posted... Someday. But they will.
“ And I was like huh? When did you get hot all of a sudden “
Daniela Avanzini x Streamer!reader
sypnosis: It’s been 2 years since Dream Academy. Daniela Avanzini and the rest of Katseye are thriving whereas Y/n just came back from hiatus after a long year of staying OFF social media after Dream Academy and only staying in contact with Lara and a few of her other friends. What happens when you and Daniela cross paths again? and when did you get hot all of a sudden?
ft: Rio amor as Y/n fc, James from CORTIS, KATSEYE, Yunjin from Le Sserafim, Katie B and Riley Hubatka, Intak from P1harmony etc.
tags: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of cheating (dw none of them are cheaters), smau
a/n: Hi guys; my first ever smau muahaa im scared but excitd. please bare with me while i do it tho heh. lmk if you wanna be in the taglist for this!
I feel like manon would be earth Kingdom, she's just so solid and down to earth (get it????)
No but fr I don't see her as an air nomad, I think she's more of an earth girlie
Okay let me tell you the vision and then you can throw stones at me if you think I'm wrong.
I'm here to spread the agenda of not all air nomads being the same as Aang. Not everyone was a kid making air balls to skate on. We had more people like the elders who were more serious and down to earth. While Megan would definitely be Aang like, Manon is more like a chill air nomad who has a lot of knowledge and loves taking care of the temple and her Bison.
Okay so the ones for the Fire Nation will definitely be Lara and Dani. Megan is obviously an air nomad, I'd even say Manon is too. Sophia is definitely a water tribe person, and I truly truly think Yoonchae is part of the earth kingdom.
Just got a chatgpt ad where the use case was "can't decide a new years resolution". I can't think of anything more sad than needing a robot to tell you what your own ambitions are. Loser shit.
Okay so, I'm officially making a series with the whole avatar!katseye idea.
First one will be fire nation healer!Lara x fire bender warrior!reader, feel free to place your bets on who's next after her and where I'm placing them
Right now I'm only writing for Katseye, if that changes, it'll be updated in here. As of right now I'm not taking requests bc I'm starting uni so it'll be a miracle if I can keep up with the ideas and the requests
Not willing to write
Extreme kinks
Smut for Yoonchae (she just turned 18, I might decide to do it over time, but right now it's a no)
Male reader x member
Member x member (unless we're talking about poly fics)
Blood-related incest (step-cest is okay)
non-con/rape
anything with bodily fluids (except blood)
Age gaps including minors
Have in mind the list might grow with time, if I see asks or request for things I'm not comfortable with, for now everything that hasn't gotten to the list of not writing can be requested, or will be written.
stormborns
kaledo-art
titsay
blakekathryn
turnnoffyourmind
