#( I appreciate you sending asks for her bc it made me have to think on stuff and )

[gazelessmenagerie]

Hey mun! I hope you're doing ok with school and your back. If you have time, I'd like to know more about Tiflora?? She seems so cool and badass in a way we don't see female saiyans portrayed!!

Kuro's Ancient Ask Trove

( Back's doing much better, thank you Anon. Just to catch up on events, I did graduate from my school and I have a job and work now. It's a bit stressful but I'm finally getting that moolah. )

( Now onto the question itself, oh man.. I just, asdljf we don't see much of the female Saiyans which is a shame. My thought process for Tiflora is just I wanted her to be the reason why Broly looks the way he does bc he sure as fuck doesn't have dear ol dad's genes in the looks and stature department. I wanted the Mother to have had those traits of being tall and strong with that long hair. )

( Like I didn't have much of an idea at first but I kept thinking on her here and there while trying to think of story where it'd be interesting but lsndlfjg making oc's isn't my strong suit but hell I tried anyway. I wanted her to have this sort of 'wine aunt' feel while also being imposing as a Berserker class and having leadership when she needs to be considering she's a commander of her own squad of other Elite Saiyans. Totally fucking hates Bardock bc lmfao, parallels and they would duke it out but this is a detail that doesn't need to be touched upon by any Bardock RP'ers. I am totally fine with having an alternate course of history or playing it out another way. Speaking of history, it may not mean much but I do like her being a history buff or an archeologist in some way for the Saiyans considering the lost planet Sadala. Maybe most of them don't care or maybe the field isn't well-looked upon considering the warrior culture but Eh? Idk, I just kinda like her being interested in something outside of conquering planets and fighting. I really don't know how much history the Saiyan race might've held onto or if there's even much interest bc it may be seen as a useless field but I feel like Tiflora would use her Elite status to leverage things her way a bit. If she were a lower class, that'd maybe be a different story but yeah. )

( There's just so much I don't know and chances are, we as the audience, don't know about Saiyan culture beyond surface level things so I'm really just throwing darts at a board to see what sticks y'know? Trying to think on how she and Paragus met to have Broly as their kid, what happened with her in regards to how she may have died or survive depending on AU's and things, she just gradually became more of herself in getting a taste for neon aesthetic and space gladiator/bounty hunting stuff. She'd still be interested in history but I feel that kinda fell to the wayside bc y'know the planet and its people are gone. Fighting in the arena for money and hunting people became a coping way if not drink and whatever pleasures she may glean on her own. She's just.. I don't know, I feel like I want to do more things with her, it's just a matter of me fitting the puzzle pieces in and seeing how it goes. Part of me is a bit hesitant that I'll mess up her character in trying to form a more solid foundation to both myself and the muses she interacts with but eh, it's a risk all oc maker's gotta take, right? )

( Tiflora is just a well loved oc that I had fun making and I'm still figuring things out for her and trying to settle on a design that makes her distinguisable from her kid but she's got her own feel, y'know? She deserves that much while she's cracking heads and taking names bc you can't tell me there are vicious Saiyanesses and it's a shame we don't see much of what they are or the culture of Saiyans in general in regards to its people and inner workings between classes, society, values and every little detail as they can come. )

( In short, I just wanted a big, buff Saiyan woman instead of the small Saiyans I got in Xenoverse. Like damn. I don't mind them I just feel like there could be more variances. )

#|| Tag: Answered #Anonymous #|| Character Study: {Tiflora} #( anon wherever you are rn. I hope life's been treating you good since you sent this a year and a half or so ago. ) #( I appreciate you sending asks for her bc it made me have to think on stuff and ) #( sometimes she just busted out my head like Athena and told me what she wants alfjsdg ) #( she's ruthless. ;w; but I love her. she could kill me and I'd say thank you )

[shinrarisen]

was cissnei the turk who did before crisis? or would that be one of her co workers?

Anons Always Welcome! <3 

So as a general note before I actually answer your question, Nonnie - I don’t really apply Before Crisis to much on this blog. XD I apply it in the sense that yes, Cissnei was a Turk already prior to Crisis Cores events and thing happened - I don’t erase the fact there is a lot of lore in that game! It still happened and I will never deny that - But my particular take on Cissnei wasn’t involved in much of BC’s events, and was forcibly ‘retired’ from her role as a Turk post-CC. She still counts the other Turks as her friends and would know them, so other Turk rp’er’s from BC can count on Cissnei still being open for interactions, but I don’t actually apply Cissnei being the player turk or being heavily involved on this blog. <3

But with that being said, to actually answer your question: Yes and no. Yes in that Cissnei is one of many playable Turks the player can choose as their character, hence why Cissnei’s real name is never revealed in CC - Because you as the player could choose that name in BC. But it’s also no in that... Again, she was one of several and most of the events of BC are written in such a way that it could have been any of the playable Turks in the events you play through? It’s not a specific single Turk, and even much of the lore is shown to have all the Turks taking care of things as a group, as is their way in general.

It’s also a no in that, as far as I’m aware, Cissnei (as Shuriken) is only playable after the game reaches events taking place after CC’s end, as her mission to that point was to watch and follow Zack around? So there’s no way she could have been the primary Turk for the entire game’s events?

So as much as I’d like to give you a concrete answer, I have to channel the Nopons of the first Xenoblade Chronicles and unfortunately make my answer a resounding Yesno. XD

#You Have One New Message [Asks] #Whispers In The Dark [Anons] #Out Of Poms [OOC] #Thank you for the ask! #As a heads up to anyone sending more after this: I will not be replying to more anons for a while #While I really do thank you all for them and a lot of these really made me think #And I wholeheartedly appreciate the attention #I've been unable to do replies for any of my blogs or focus on anything else from getting so many of them? XD #So while this isn't a 'please stop' #It IS a note that I won't be touching my inbox for a few days at minimum so that I can go do other things #So no further anon replies will be coming aside from a couple still in my inbox until I get caught up on everything else - Thank you! #ON THIS ASK'S TOPIC though - I don't apply BC because I haven't played it and only know what I do from the wiki #And since Cissnei isn't available for most of the game and I have her as retired by the time she would be #It doesn't feel right to apply it for her past her knowing the other Turks like I have above

[ferrstappen]

max, the wag (for the third time) l Max Verstappen x reader

a/n: i was in the middle of writing this when news of Danny coming back to the grid!!! omg I'm so happy of seeing RIC and listening to his radios and everything, it wasn't the same without him <3

also, about requests. Please keep sending them, I've LOVED all the reqs I've gotten but right now im getting ready for my bar exam in a couple of weeks so my time is super super limited, but I promise I'll get to most of them (bc imsorry there are some reqs that I really can't connect with) after the exam, it's one of the things I'm looking forward to <3 but for now this kind of mediocre story telling will have to do...

ANYWAY, HOPE YOU LIKE THIS INSTALLMENT! you can find part 1 and 2 on the master list <3

summary: the continuation of your favorite paddock couple.

Max arrived to the track by himself.

If he was being honest, it wasn’t on his plans to walk alone with the photographers, Red Bull marketing team snatching him for stuff right after he swapped his credential. Even from far away he was able to hear chants of fans and more media than usual. 

But you weren’t right there next to him. 

He knew it wasn’t your fault, Silverstone not being a track where he was usually welcomed with opened arms and he was aware of you not wanting to be too in the eye of photographers who didn’t make questions to you, but there still were different WAGs and outfits or whatever accounts tracking your every step, especially with the new wave of partners and sudden break ups and polemics. 

Still, the selfish part of him wanted you to enter the track with him, even if it was a few steps ahead or behind him, holding your hand and smiling as you complained about the amount of credentials you had to carry: the usual green VIP Paddock, Red Bull something. You’d think after all these years they’d know me, you’d say and he’d laugh.

On the other hand, you finished getting ready and called the front desk to get a taxi to get there, feeling a bit guilty of letting Max go on his own, especially when there were more eyes on the track with Brad Pitt being there and a lot of important people who’d want to talk with him all day. 

Texting Max to let him know you were already by the guests entrance waiting when you noticed some intense flashes getting near. You’d been around a time or two to know this wasn’t usual, maybe in Miami but not when you were on the abandoned back entrance, not very glamorous and low key. 

But you saw her…

Shakira, are you visiting Lewis?

Who are you cheering today?

Shakira, third Grand Prix of the year! 

Did you talk to Lewis before? Is he nervous?

Your eyes followed her, mouth opening when you followed her small frame, exuding class and sympathy, even Alexandra who was also making her entrance stopped to get a closer look of the Colombian bombshell. 

Of course, they didn’t ask her to show and get accredited, she just walked by with a radiant smile leaving paparazzi behind as she kept talking with the friend she came with. 

But wasn’t that a Haas credential?

It didn’t matter, it wasn’t important, because right then your brain made the connections and started dialing Max while nervously biting your polished nails. 

“Baby, everything okay? Are you already inside?” Max answered, but his words were quiet and rushed. 

“Yes, but you’re never going to believe…”

“I’m sorry we have a meeting, please don’t go to the paddock, go straight to the driver’s lounge, okay? Love you” 

He hung up and you wanted to pull your hair out, knowing he is the one and only person you wanted to share this information with, and you were also certain he was the only person who would truly appreciate the gossip and speculation about his fellow driver’s love life. 

Max was able to leave the meeting almost forty minutes later, getting outside for some air until he remembered your call and that you probably were bored to death on the lounge. He was turning around to go there when…

When he saw the one and only Shakira in all of her glory. 

He wasn’t starstruck or anything, being immune to celebrities and the imaginary pedestal where most people placed them, but this wasn’t about that, it was about the way she was supposedly hiding under a cap walking towards the Mercedes garage.

He covered his mouth and hastily made his way to you. 

You didn’t greet each other with the usual peck on the lips and short hug; his slightly widened blue eyes told you exactly what you needed to know as he opened the door to his small room. 

“Please tell me that you saw her!” You said as soon as he closed the door. 

“Yes, just now she was walking to Mercedes,” Max was whisper shouting as if someone would hear him and it was the highest of secrets. 

“Did you see Lewis?” You asked Max but he said no. “What if you try to ask Brad Pitt if he saw her and like if they’re friends… with Shakira?” This time both you and your boyfriend laughed at the idea.

"I did see Sainz trying to go unnoticed with a tall brunette,do you think she is the new girlfriend?" Max asked and you nodded.

"I'm pretty sure he cheated on Isa with her, and I am almost certain she was in the Paddock Club in Monaco during qualifying," Max whistled at the new information.

Now he kissed you, lips fitting perfectly against each other, but your eyes suddenly opened and separated from him. What? Why? What happened? Max was disconcerted. 

“Please don’t laugh at me because this is a serious idea…” You told Max who had your entire attention. “What if we write to Deuxmoi?”

“Deux what?”

“They have all the inside scoops  and sightings, even your name’s popped up once or twice,” Max’s eyebrows rose at the information. “We should write that Shakira was seen on the British Grand Prix and I am one hundred percent sure someone will have more information!” You proposed and Max chuckled.

“Schatz, I can just ask Lewis why she’s here,” Max told you before embracing you, his arms circled around your waist.

You rolled your eyes before resting your head on his chest, but suddenly it hit you, swiftly lifting your head and facing Max. 

“Then why haven’t you asked him yet?!”

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen au #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen x you #max verstappen series #f1 fic #f1 masterlist #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

[dykeomania]

PLS write smut for Hazel from bottoms..I need her so bad I fear..maybe like subtop!hazel..is her having a strap too far..I need her..

this is not. a full fledged fic. but this is the first time in a sec that ive let myself be inspired by an ask. this is weirdly switcher and just pure gay-sexier than it is subby!hazel. lmk if you want things to get subbier, bc i can probably do that. but for rn i have.. this image.. and i want you to walk with me on this but also hold my hand because i'm #supershy,

(minors [including 17 year olds 🙏🏽] dni fr, under the cut: not that proofread. strap lol (r!r), foul language, breeding... language... (my bad) (hazel has a strap tho), subtop!hazel except i could've made this shit so much worse so i guess switch!hazel but like, switch!reader, idk everyone's just a whore. there's an "i love you" (or.. multiple, i guess). there's a mirror. there's a vibrator. purely stream of consciousness, i don't even think the position they're fucking in makes physical sense fr. i was bored and i was thinking, so i wrote a lot. this whole thing is not realistic btw. i have very little confidence that hazel's blowing anyone's back out, but. it's my first day out in a min so i'm rusty. all respect to the community. next time when i pull up, i'll offer something a little more tame and saccharine as opposed to [exaggerated p*rnstar moans!!!]. reblogs and whatnot appreciated.)

so, i have this .. picture.

of you putting a bullet vibe in the pocket of hazel's strap before she fucks you from behind for the first time.

she eventually finds the confidence to blow your back out, and tbh, you think it's gonna end with you seeing stars because you can already hear the fucking lottery machines going off in your head. she's fucking you so well, and hazel's problem is that you're letting her know.

at first she thinks she's going crazy. but those fucking mewls into the pillow over how deep she is, how she's making you feel so good, how you've missed her so much, are sending shocks through her clit that the vibe keeps amplifying, everytime her pelvis hits your ass.

if she thrusts hard enough, which god knows she does, it almost makes her buckle over.

you're left clenching the sheets, and gasping against the linen while she fucks you, taking you in a way that's so uncharacteristically perverse that you don't even have the brain capacity to ask yourself why you didn't ask her to take you like this, sooner. her thrusts are quick and shallow, her words breathy and a little sharp. with every jolt of your body forwards as she experimentally blows your back out, it's like you feel yourself becoming more and more removed from this fucking planet. you can't help but cry -- sob, even -- as she makes you into a mess of limbs, leaving you tugging at your tits in one split second, and gripping at the sheets the next.

something happens, though.

where her hips rut into yours in deep, hard thrusts, spaced out by what feels like eternities, you can hear her. she's moaning now, breath quickening and chest rippling everytime her crotch hits yours at a particular angle. she's mewling, and unless you're hallucinating from how fucked up you are, you can hear her --

"fuck... f--uuh--ck, fuck, fuckfuck..."

-- silently beginning to whimper.

the girl goes from bullying your cunt to burying her strap deep enough in it to make the apex of its curve nudge against your g-spot, in a way that leaves your mouth hanging wide open with nothing spilling out of it maybe other than drool, but...

it's the slick warmth of hazel's back pressed nearly flush against yours and the heat of her breath against your shoulder that makes your eyes flutter open, facing your reflection in the floor-length mirror stationed across from hazel's bed.

hazel's in it so deep, you can't even see the strap anymore. and by no exaggeration, it's like an earthquake pulses through her body everytime she nudges her hips into your ass, making your vision blurry. she's rutting into you. greedily grinding her strap into your cunt in the effort of chasing her own high.

it wasn't a secret that hazel was sensitive. more often than not, the poor girl writhed against your mouth whenever she let you put it on her ("let you" is a loose sentence -- she begs for it, sometimes). you don't even know why you're surprised that your girlfriend is getting this close over having a bullet vibe pressed against her clit, hardly protected by fabric. "b--babe--"

what sounds like a plea, amongst the feeling of hazel's thighs trembling against the back of yours, inspires something sinister inside you.

you wind your hips against her, pressing back against the strap and the toy. the sight of your ass rolling against hazel's pelvis, combined with how good it feels is gonna actually, like, make hazel fucking--

"don't cum."

she loses her breath, entirely, and her rhythm, apparently. she slows, as if that was her body's instinct to obey your orders, despite the string of breaths that tumbles out of her mouth. "n-- wha-- fuck, no, nonono--"

you wind your hips deeper into hers, extracting a moan from your own throat -- fuck, maybe your gut, since that's how deep you could feel her. you press your ass into her until you feel the buzz of the vibe against folds, the frequency of it changing and humming as you press it further into her clit. "y--es," you grit. "don't fucking cum yet, hazel."

the dull, rolling vibrations through the fabric of the strap draw hazel's eyes into the back of her head, and then closed. she's grunting now -- or all of the above -- and she tries her best to unchap her lips, fruitlessly dragging over them. the little breaths she takes through them only brings them back to being puffy, pink, and a gateway of noise that gives evidence to struggle.

"gonna let me count you down?" you puff out your sentence in one breath, and hazel can fucking hear the grin in your still-fucked-out tone and it makes her whine louder.

"yeah? gonna fuckin' let me count you down so you can cum in me, haze?"

cum.. in you. three words that you'd never even fucking uttered to her before this, and that she never fucking thought she would ever hear and.. it looks like she can't complain, because her eyes roll into the back of her head and hazel swears that she -- at least, briefly -- meets jesus christ, "oh my god--," hazel slurs, hips rolling impossibly deeper into yours, it's a miracle she hasn't swabbed your cervix yet -- "ohmygod, oh my god--"

"three..."

ohfuck. ohfuck,ohfuck,ohfuck,ohfuck. it's the soft chorus that she whispers to herself as she starts to fuck herself into you, again, opting for thrusts as a means of trying to regain control with no consideration for your demise. the vision of her blurs in the mirror, and you feel your fists grasping at her sheets again.

"fuck--" you croak. "t--two.."

she pulls you further into her, and at this point, hazel's okay with being written off as a lost cause, 'cause fuck, it's not like she has a choice. the strap brief is soaked and it's entirely your fault, and god, she throws her head back. a mess of words, a mess of sensations, hazel just blurts, "oh my g--od--i love you--"

you burst out laughing at the random proclamation, admist everything.

she forces her head down to watch you, jaw hung open. and at this point, she's just speaking. rambling and slurring and gasping, tears-in-eyes-in-awe-and-all, as she watches you throw your ass back against her.

"iloveyou so much, you're so f--ucking hot, whatthefuck?--"

there's something weirdly sweet about it. something that makes your cunt clench around the strap in a way that hollows you out shortly thereafter, and lets hazel hit that fucking spot just right. before you know it, you're wherever hazel is, cunt fully creaming around the silicon.

"i love you--" you dumbly spit out a giggle, a gasp causing a steam of spit to cascade off your bottom lip and onto hazel's navy sheets. "babe," you warn. "ohfuck, ohmyfuckinggod, you're gonna make me cu---"

"fuckingsayone," hazel, unbelievably pleads while she unbelievably spears her strap into your cunt. "oh my fucking god, say one, please, please, pleaseplease--"

she starts begging. unprompted. "it's s-so good, it's so, so good, feels so fucking good, wanna c--um in you--" and she probably repeats it. probably repeats that she wants to cum in you until she's blue in the face and,

"o-one--"

until you let her.

the noise that's ripped from hazel's throat is .. embarrassing. virginal, almost. fully reverberates off the walls, and she trembles. her clit convulses against the vibe, twitching with every short stream of her release and she folds. poor girl was holding your hips for something -- for reassurance, to get a grip, dear life, perhaps? as her hips languidly fuck and press into the surface of your ass., rocking your near limp-frame after you've pretty much creamed all over her strap.

hazel hangs over you for god knows how long, dark hair shaggy and some strands stuck to her forehead in wavy wisps. cheeks flushed, and lower lip bitten to hell. the bullet vibe fucking dies, thank god almighty, because god knows she was not in any shape to reach down and turn it off.

she stays like that for a while, until she you feel her again. this time, only gentler, and much more like herself. soft hands caressing the skin of your back, her breath warm and shaky as she peppers a splay of kisses across your skin.

as you come from the surface of your own high, you feel yourself hum. still full of her, and dizzy with it. despite it, you manage -- slurring, slightly.

"haze?"

there's a hum, somewhere.

"did that really feel that good?"

hazel distantly nods, brown locks brushing against your back.

"uh.." hazel frowns, letting out a weak laugh. "y-yeah, honestly."

the mental note gets filed away somewhere deep in the haze of your brain and you grin, when you press your ass one against her just for shits and giggles and hear her gasp, from the sensitivity of it alone.

"that's my girl."

#hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #lesbian #wlw #lgbt #bottoms 2023 #merry fuckin christmas #i am logging out see you in like 12-15-35 hours

[randombush3]

a sense of coming home

ona batlle x reader

summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends

words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)

warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end

notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending

again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)

also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x

There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken? 

Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible. 

It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.

You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier. 

Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.” 

“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.” 

“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.” 

You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?” 

“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.” 

“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.”  You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.” 

“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to. 

“I am always on your side.” 

That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be. 

Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase. 

However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.

… 

The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted. 

You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you. 

Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.

You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad. 

And… you, apparently. 

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door. 

Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.” 

“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously. 

“Of course.” 

With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence. 

Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft. 

“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.” 

“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?” 

He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this. 

Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration. 

Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection? 

But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor? 

…

“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.

“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility. 

“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.” 

“Maybe she only likes men.” 

“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.” 

“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.” 

…

You are more than a little confused. 

To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend. 

Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much. 

Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you? 

For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world. 

It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar. 

She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?” 

You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.” 

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.” 

“I cried for months.” 

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.” 

She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes. 

“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself. 

Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.” 

You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving. 

Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said. 

No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone. 

“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.” 

“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.” 

“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy. 

You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more. 

Do you regret it? 

It’s unclear. 

You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here. 

This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become. 

As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.

It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date. 

It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official. 

You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face. 

There are many reasons why you go out with him. 

One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied. 

He’s not Ona. You know that. 

That's the whole point. 

If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care. 

But you just… don’t. 

Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head. 

You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself. 

The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago. 

Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them. 

“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.” 

“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday. 

Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona. 

“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger. 

“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?” 

Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country. 

Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.” 

…

Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen. 

It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited. 

Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially. 

Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming. 

Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it. 

It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun. 

Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced. 

By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything. 

It won’t. (It does.) 

And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight. 

In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden. 

Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun. 

Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible. 

You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk. 

Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up. 

But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore. 

Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit. 

Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom. 

She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’. 

You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right. 

When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier. 

“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.” 

It’s not true. 

It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again. 

She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done. 

…

You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit. 

The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.

You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill. 

It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.

You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents. 

Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again. 

In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam. 

Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off. 

It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams. 

“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.” 

“Why?” 

The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.” 

You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona. 

She picks up. 

“I was sorry to hear about your mum.” 

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.” 

“Are you back at home?” 

“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.” 

Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles. 

“Need me to show you around the city?” 

And it’s Ona, so how could you say no? 

…

Your visit goes very well. 

She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend. 

Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life. 

She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery. 

You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.

Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.   

Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”

And your hands stop.

“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement. 

You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?” 

Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa. 

“Who do you care about, then?” 

“You.” 

Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day. 

The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend. 

Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter. 

You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before. 

With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back. 

Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly. 

“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.” 

You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers. 

She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her. 

At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh. 

You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs. 

“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?” 

She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly. 

As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.” 

Ona blushes. 

You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless. 

For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on. 

And that’s when she whispers it. 

It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering. 

It has taken years but it does not matter. 

Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home. 

#woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #barca femeni #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle smut

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

hi coveyyy !! i hope you’re doing good and i was wondering if you could maybe do a hc for leo valdez x daughter of zeus if you havent already ?

⋆⭒˚.⋆ leo valdez x daughter of zeus! reader hcs

content: leo valdez x daughter of zeus! reader hcs warning: language bc i can't be stop lmao author's note: trying something new...idk if i like or not, you guys tell me!! really...tell me. bc ill go back and change them all to match (bc id rather DIE A TERRIBLE AND ATROCIOUS DEATH than have them all be different) or i can change this one back to normal bullet points. also i realized i hadn't written for my manz in so long, which is CRIMINAL. get ready for the leo flood to come your way (hopefully. please stay away writers block im begging rn)

✧ there is nothing on this planet that leo loves more than a woman that could actually kill him lmao-

✧ so no one was all that surprised when he fell for you

✧ im mean, jason and thalia weren't exactly happy...but they also weren't surprised

✧ leo likes asking you to help him weld things

✧ he thinks it's funny when you use your finger with some electricity to weld whatever he wants together

✧ avid debates are held over who get's the nickname 'sparky'

✧ "MY DAD LITTERALY INVENT STATIC ELECTRCITY???"

✧ "YEAH? AND WHAT TO DO USE TO START A FIRE? A SPARK. TRY AGAIN BITCH."

✧ "what did you just call me?"

✧ "mi novia, mi amor, mi princessa, mi media naranja-"

✧ "andddddddd?"

✧ cue huge sigh

✧ "and sparky. juST FOR TODAY THO DON'T GET TOO EXCITED-"

✧ you like to ensure that leo doesn't overheat by sending soft breezes through bunker nine while he works

✧ and while it's very unlikely that the boy who can light himself on fire will overheat, he appreciate the gesture more than you know

✧ being the good country boy he is, he's a big carrie underwood fan

✧ like, unironically (he just like me fr)

✧ thinks its the funniest thing to serenade you with 'blown away'

✧ OH and 'hurricane' by bridgit mendler

✧ in turn, you never let him go a day without hearing 'girl on fire' by alicia keys

✧ or 'fireball' from mr. 305 himself

✧ likes to throw himself from high distances, knowing you'll aways catch him with a breeze or fly up and save him all supergirl sytle

✧ "ladder? nah, i've got my girl, we're good!"

✧ "climb down? i've got a short cut. and her names yn."

✧ you get stressed out and also reprimand him for this

✧ but he thinks you look hotter when you're yelling at him so he doesn't mind much (or really hear your words as his eyes slowly drift away from yours and downwards)

✧ loves you nearly as much as birds love yo ass

✧ key word is nearly - there is no competition, those little shits are winning

✧ it's giving disney princess the way the crowd you, you sometimes gasping at the rapid pace in which hummingbirds tell you gossip

✧ which you then repeat back to leo, who is gasping right along side you

✧ leo even built you a bird feeder, putting it up outside cabin one while you stood there, arms crossed and totally watching him work and not just starting at the way his muscles clenched or how good his lips look tugged between his teeth-

✧ what were we talking about?? i think i got distracted by something

✧ jason loves it to, the both of you sitting criss cross outside the cabin early in the morning, listen to the birds as they spill the tea while you and jason drink coffee and eat donuts, jason's book long forgotten

✧ ALSO leo easily won thalia over, presenting the daughter of zeus with all the silver jewelry that turns into weapons she could want

✧ that girl was instantly switching sides, happy to rave with you about how sweet leo was and how well he treats her- er, you! how well he treats you!

✧ jason was a little harder but after an in depth talk and totally zero threats against leo's life, they came to a peaceful agreement

✧ bro gave up on appeasing your father and instead prays to hera for a long and happy marriage with you and that zeus never finds peace again

✧ which instantly made him a fan favorite from hera

✧ he knows when you really want a kiss or when your mad at him because you legit just get super staticky

✧ like his hair starts stand on end and he's like 'either i pissed her off or she needs a kiss. either way, i got to seek my girl out.'

✧ both end with you kiss leo, so it doesn't really matter lmao

✧ in fact, most interactions with leo devolve into make out sessions

✧ and, really, who are you to complain??

✧ sparky + (other kind of) sparky = true love

✧ yall that's math you can't argue with it i dunno what to tell you

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo fandom #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x oc #leo valdez x y/n #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hoo toa #tlh

[minustwofingers]

exoplanet p.3

pairing: ellie williams x fem! reader (ur a girly girl in this one!!) (she/her pronouns)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: (PLEASE READ!) explicit language, violence, description of a medical procedure sans anesthesia, recreational drug use (idk how else to put it ellie gets absolutely zonked in the beginning), reader overthinks asf and is a little neurotic but that's why we love her x

a/n: hey guys! thank you so much for the wait! it's been genuinely insane how sweet and incredible all of you are. i've never felt so appreciated for my writing!! also, some notes: this chapter is heavily inspired by my last relationship. sorry if it's not as immersive bc of it! and also i don't have ANY medical knowledge so...cast a blind eye when u get to that scene

part 1

part 2

tags: @prettyplant0 @666findgod​ @sawaagyapong​ @rystarkov​ @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @parkersmyth @pinkazelma

wc: 6.6k

enjoy x

“One more time.”

You gave Ellie a withering look from where you were sitting at the end of her bed.

“Please,” she said, drawing out the s. “Just once more. I promise.” 

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes—a habit of hers that you were quickly picking up—and took in a deep breath. “Fuck.” 

Ellie lost it, peals of laughter bouncing off the walls. “Another one. Say something else.”

“I don’t understand why you think this is so funny,” you said.

“You say it so weird.”

“I enunciate,” you clarified. “I don’t ‘sound weird’. It’s called pronouncing every letter in the word and not having a lazy mouth.” 

“Please,” she gasped. “At least say bitch. You haven’t said that one yet.”

You looked her dead in the eye. “Bitch.”

If you weren’t already certain that Ellie was high out of her mind by the smell of her room and the general haze in the air, the way she howled with laughter and fell back on her bed would’ve made you entirely positive.

This was new. You’d begun to hang out with her in her room after dinner—that was normal—but when she’d knocked on your door smelling heavily of weed once you’d said goodnight to Joel, you were nothing less than shocked. Of course, she had none left for you. Which was probably good, because only a sober mind could navigate a night sitting on Ellie’s bed without doing something really, really stupid. 

“I can’t believe you call me weird,” you said, tucking your feet under her and giving her a pointed look. 

“You’re so lucky you didn’t grow up where I did,” Ellie said, wiping a tear away from her cheek as she tried (unsuccessfully) to rein in her giggles. “You would’ve been eaten alive, good lord.”

“What were you like as a kid?” you asked, resting your chin on your knees. 

She considered for a moment, growing more somber. “Um…I don’t know if you would’ve liked me very much.”

“What do you mean? Of course I would’ve liked you.” 

“No,” she said, swiping at her face so she pushed a strand of hair away. “I don’t think you would have.”

“Why not?”

“I was…” She paused, picking at her cuticles. “Back then I didn’t have anyone. I was an orphan, you know. My parents were never in the picture, so I was the only one I could count on.  I was really rough around the edges and could be nasty. But I probably would’ve ignored you like I did everyone else. “

“Everyone? You didn’t have anyone? No friends at all?”

Ellie blinked, and her gaze remained fixed on her hands. “Basically, yeah. I mean, there was one girl, but that’s…I don’t want to talk about that right now, actually.” 

“That’s okay,” you said, reaching forward to touch her knee. She flinched at the contact but didn’t brush you away. The image of a young, scared Ellie living somewhere alone made your chest ache. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

“What were you like?” she asked, tilting her head and meeting your eyes. 

“Hmmm…” Mirth crept into your tone. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Ellie echoed, her eyes cloudy as she thought. Then a small smirk formed on her face. “Oh god, were you one of those spoiled brats? Were you a mean girl?” 

“God, no,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “Not mean.”

“Then what?”

You paused. “I was really shy, I guess. And quiet, too. I didn’t do much but read for a good 10 years of my life. I used to have awful pronunciation because I would spend more time reading than talking to anyone. But I think I would’ve liked you.”

Ellie shook her head.

“Yes,” you said. “Maybe I would’ve been a little scared of you. I probably would’ve never had the courage to talk to you. But I would’ve liked you, I think.”

“Scared of me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? I was a kid.”

“I was mostly going off of how I felt when I actually first met you,” you said, shrugging. 

She gasped theatrically. “You’re scared of me?”

“No!” you said, smacking her knee. “That’s not what I mean. You’re just really intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” She looked at you incredulously. 

“You’re so tough,” you explained, feeling heat grow in your cheeks. “You seem just—I don’t know, just so capable. There’s nothing you’re too afraid to face, nothing you’re too afraid to say.”

“That’s not true,” she said lightly. 

“Well, of course I’m sure there are things that you’re afraid of,” you amended. “But you hide it so well. You just seem so…fearless.”

“Hm,” Ellie said, letting her head rest against the headboard. “I think you would’ve made me a nervous wreck. If we’d met when we were kids, I mean.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you before. You’re just so untouched.” She winced. “God, no. That sounds gross. I just mean…I dunno. I wouldn’t have known how to act around you. You haven’t had to harden up like everyone else I know.”

“Are you saying I should develop trust issues or something?” you asked, your voice a teasing lilt.

“You know,” she said, nodding seriously, “That is part of it. It was really off-putting how quickly you trusted me. But I guess that’s just a product of where you grew up.” 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I wonder how I would’ve turned out if I’d grown up like you.”

“Can I be honest?” Ellie asked. 

“Sure.”

“I don’t think you’d still be here if you were me,” she said, her eyes crinkling. “No offense. You just have zero survival skills. I swear that shit has to be genetic. I’ve never met someone more averse to violence in my life.”

You sighed, pressed your hands deep into Ellie’s comforter as a thought hit you. “I think if you’d been born in my position, you would’ve been greater than anything either of us could ever dream of. Much greater than me.”

“Definitely not,” said Ellie. “There’s no fucking way I’m studying the way you apparently do. I honestly think I’d take being an orphan over the study schedule I saw in your bag.” 

She was of course referencing the time table you’d roughly sketched up the morning before you’d ended up in Jackson. It was blocked to the minute, citing the study content and the location of said study session. She’d been beyond horrified to see it. 

You laughed, nudging her socked food with yours. 

“Is there music? In Terranova?”

“Oh,” you said, startled at the abrupt change of subject. “Uh, yeah. Of course. I listened to it all the time.” 

“I used to have a Walkman,” she said, leaning back as she reminisced. She was lying flat on her back now. “It ended up breaking a while ago, but it was like my child.” 

“Have you ever seen a movie before?” you asked, sitting up rigid straight as the thought occurred to you.

“Duh,” she said, giving you a weird look. “Do you think I live under a rock?”

“How many?”

“Hm.” Ellie began counting, ending on her second hand. “I think 6?”

“You’ve seen a total of 6 movies in your life?” 

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to see more?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I guess. It’s just tough to find CDs that are still functional after so long.”

“Hold that thought,” you said, holding a finger in her direction as you stood up.

“Hey!” she called as you bolted out the door. “Where are you going?”

You came bounding back to her room in a matter of seconds, your laptop in your hands. 

“What the fuck?” she said. “Isn’t that your homework thing?”

“Yes,” you said, feeling around for an outlet, “But I also have a ridiculous amount of movies downloaded on this. Our dorm wi-fi is shit and I have way too much storage on this thing, so I just download, like, every movie I’ve ever wanted to watch.”

“Your dorm what?”

You waved your hand. The last thing you wanted to do was explain to her how the 802.11 standard allowed wireless connections a few years after the outbreak. “Not important. Here, come look at this.”

Your laptop roared to light with the help of your charging cord. Quickly, you typed your password in and opened your downloads. Ellie hovered over your shoulder, squinting at the screen with confusion. 

“Here,” you said, opening up the album that had everything you had seen for your entire university career and passing the laptop to Ellie. “Use the touchpad—there, yeah—to navigate. Press to click. These are all movie files that I’ve seen. We can watch them on my laptop. Some of them were filmed in Terranova, too, so they’re post-apocalypse.”

She perused the selection you had for quite some time, the glow of the screen lighting up her face against the dim room. “Okay. This one.”

And thus began a tradition. Each night after you’d finished showering and Joel retired to his room, Ellie would come knock on your door and ask if you wanted to come over. You’d talk for a while, then open your laptop and pick something out to watch. Ellie was never high after the first time, which was unsurprising considering that there definitely wasn’t a way to get any in Jackson. Where she found any the first time was still a mystery to you. 

~

A week or so after your first patrol with Ellie, Joel had taken it upon himself to teach you how to shoot. You were surprisingly not as bad as you’d expected, but the rebound was tough to get used to, and you were still hung up over the whole “killing living things” part. 

Your first patrol—first real one—came quickly, and before you knew it, Ellie was handing you the same gun you’d dropped the first time with a suspicious look. 

“Don’t kill one of us with that thing,” she warned. “Be smart, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss,” you said to her, mock saluting as best you could while you were leading Japan to the mounting block.

She rolled her eyes. “Please act normal or I’ll make you carry around that glorified pocket knife instead again.” 

The patrol began as usual, Ellie leading you down the same path you went last time. It was a beautiful day out, with the early spring sun filtering through the evergreen trees that populated the woods and birdsong filling the air. 

Though conversations with Ellie were getting easier (given that it actually seemed like she wanted to talk to you now), you were still starstruck. Nothing that you did and nothing that you thought could get you to stop seeing her the way you did. You were routinely distracted by everything about her. It was a wonder that you could even function as a normal person around her, much less handle a weapon and a horse. 

You two had nearly made the full rotation when your surroundings exploded in action. 

“Fuck,” Ellie hissed as someone behind you two fired a shot that narrowly missed Shimmer. 

You whipped around, gun in hand, to see two men—two normal men who weren’t infected. One held a bow, the other a gun. 

The one who had fired the first shot never even stood a chance. He was down on the ground seconds after you’d seen him, Ellie’s aim taking him out before you could even ready your gun. 

The second man notched an arrow and managed to draw it back and release into the air right as Ellie’s bullet struck him, sending him falling back. 

“I don’t think there’s any more,” said Ellie, slightly breathless as she scanned the forest. “Sometimes outsiders pull this shit—try to kill us for our supplies. I’ve never seen them this close to the wall, though. I’ll have to tell Maria and Tommy.”

Normally, you would’ve felt up to making some sort of sarcastic comment about how that was a really unconcerning thing for her to tell you and that you actually felt so much more comfortable going on patrol knowing that there were also just run-of-the-mill people trying to kill you, but a twinge in your lower body distracted you. 

Slowly, nervously, you looked down. Air immediately left your lungs. 

“At least we’re done,” Ellie was saying, wiping her hands off on her thighs and slinging the gun over her shoulder. “What a crazy end for your first actual patrol, huh?”

When you didn’t answer, she turned to you and saw the arrow sticking out of your side, 

“Shit,” said Ellie, jumping off Shimmer and reaching you in seconds. “Shit, shit, shit. Oh god.” 

“Am I going to die?” you asked, staring starstruck at the blood escaping the outline of the arrowhead. You couldn’t feel anything anymore. Were you in shock?

“No,” said Ellie firmly. “Absolutely not. Do you need help getting off?”

Before you could answer, she was already helping you down, carefully avoiding the protruding arrow. 

“Listen,” she said, back to being her unwavering self, “We’re right by the wall. I’m going to help you walk in, and then I’ll grab some supplies, okay? Don’t try to pull the arrow out. You hear me? Don’t.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. She helped you walk the few steps to be carefully concealed by the wall, then grabbed the two horses and darted past you, making a break for Maria and Tommy’s cabin. 

In a haze of confusion, you could see Maria running out, holding a box out to Ellie in exchange for the reins of the horses. Ellie said something that made Maria point towards you. She nodded, then ran back to you.

By the time that she’d reached you, the shock had begun to wear off, replaced by the stinging pain from the object that had impaled you. It was worse than anything you’d ever felt before in your life, and it took all you had not to keel over. 

“Hey,” she said, reaching out to grab your face so you had to look at her. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve done this before, okay? I’m, like, the master. It’s going to be alright.” 

“Done what before?” you managed to grind out. 

Ellie let go of your face to dig through the box Maria had given her, producing a needle, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and what looked like a spool of thin thread. 

Horror slowly trickled through you as you realized what was about to happen. 

“It doesn’t look all that deep,” Ellie was saying as she examined the arrow. “So I don’t think it’s hit anything. It’s just going to be a nasty hole. I’m going to pull it out now, okay?”

You let out a strangled scream as she grasped the arrow’s end and yanked it out without warning.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Ellie repeated. She threw the arrow over her shoulder and knelt so she was hovering over you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you gasped. You were most certainly not. You couldn’t quite get your eyes to focus, and your heart was beating out of your chest. 

“Alright,” she said firmly, grasping your shoulders and pulling you up so you were slumped against the wall. “Sit up straight, alright? Also, this is going to hurt.” 

At first there were just snipping sounds as she cut part of your shirt away—then something cool and wet pressed to your wound. You cried out again as a fresh white hot pain bloomed in your middle. 

“I know, I know.” Ellie’s voice was consoling as she reached up to brush away the sweaty strands of hair stuck to your forehead. “Just a few more seconds.” 

“Fuck—off—” you gritted out from your teeth. 

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Just this once.” 

She released the alcohol-saturated cotton pad, throwing it aside and fussing with the thread and needle until she was satisfied. 

By the time her fingers were ghosting over your abdomen again, you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the puncture wound and the needle she was wielding. 

“Don’t look,” said Ellie. “Pick something else. You don’t need to watch.” 

“I hate needles,” you whispered, choosing the air over her shoulder to be your focal point. 

There was a prodding at the top of your wound, and you hissed. 

“I can’t say I’m a fan myself.” 

Something pierced through your skin, and your midriff exploded in pain. 

The edges of your sight went fuzzy, stars forming in the corners of your vision. Someone that sounded suspiciously like you cried out. Your cheek rammed up against something solid and warm. 

Once the initial sting had faded, you realized that you’d slumped into Ellie, your face buried into her neck. She didn’t make any move to push you off, instead just taking one hand to brush up and down your arm with a feather light touch. 

“You're fine," she said firmly. "Everything's going to be fine."

Your fingers curled around the hem of her shirt as the needle exited through the other end of your wound, pulling another whine from your throat. It was easier to not feel like you were about to pass out when you were crushed into Ellie, clinging onto her and just focusing on the way she felt against you. 

“Hang on, I'm almost there,” she muttered a few stitches later. You’d quieted down, only letting out the occasional gasp as she pulled the thread through. “You're doing so well. Just one more.”

Now that you were more conscious, you had no idea how she was managing to stitch your side while you were nearly on her lap, but she continued to weave her needle through your skin, pulling it taut. 

“And done,” said Ellie. You felt her take another cotton square to swipe against your skin. 

You laid against her for a few more moments, panting as the shock slowly began to fade. She shifted, and for a moment you were sure that she was going to shove you away, but then the hand she’d lifted hesitantly rested on your head, her fingers parting to card through your hair. 

“How did you learn how to do that?” you asked, your voice muffled from where you were pressed against her. 

“Trial and error.” 

Her joke was enough for you to finally let go, sitting back against the wall. Her hand slithered out of your hair, resting back in her lap. 

“Shut up,” you said. “That’s awful.” 

Ellie shrugged. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling the bumpiness of the stony wall press into your back. “I have a really low pain tolerance.”

“So I’ve noticed,” said Ellie, the side of her mouth quirking. 

“I’ve never been hurt before,” you heard yourself saying. “Like, beyond the occasional splinter or bee sting or accidental scrape or ankle sprain. It’s just not something that happens.” 

“Must be nice.”  

You smiled sadly. “Yeah. It’s not nice being weak, though.” 

Ellie looked away from you then, silent as she packed up the first-aid kit. Then: “I don’t think that’s true.” 

She’d said it lightly, like it was meant to be an offhand comment, a throwaway addition that wouldn’t be remembered by either of you. But the sentiment still struck you, twisting your heart.

You were less capable because your survival had never required anything more. You were weak because you could be. 

Her voice from the night she’d been high floated back to you. You haven't had to harden up like everyone else I know. 

Out here, weakness was a luxury few could afford. 

“Not so untouched anymore, huh?” you said, since you didn’t know how else to respond.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” quipped Ellie. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. I still consider needing to be held to get 4 stitches as being soft. You haven’t changed a bit. No offense.” 

Your cheeks burned bright red. “I—”

“I’m teasing,” she said before you could defend yourself. “Arrow wounds suck. I get it.” 

“Right.” You turned away, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on the ground beside you. With feeling more yourself came the inevitable shame at what you’d just done. What had you been thinking, touching her like that? Grabbing onto her like that?

This was going to haunt you for the rest of your life. 

“Don’t make that face,” said Ellie. “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It really is fine.” 

It was not fine. It would never be fine. You wanted the thugs to come back to life and finish you off, and then have the earth open up and swallow you for good measure. 

Ellie probably thought of you as an overgrown child. You doubted that there was ever a point where she could see you as anything equal. If she ever knew how often she appeared in your imagination, she’d probably be disgusted.

She called you pretty a contrarian voice in your head reminded you. Don't you remember?

But maybe she hadn’t meant it. She hadn’t said it explicitly: “Y/N, I think you’re pretty.” She just hadn’t argued when you’d pointed it out. Maybe because she was being nice, or maybe because she was actually being sarcastic. 

“You were really brave, okay?” said Ellie. “Your first armed confrontation and you did well.”

“I didn’t shoot anyone.”

“It could have gone worse,” said Ellie. “You could’ve accidentally shot me. Or died. And neither of those things happened, so that’s successful in my book.” 

“That’s very glass half-full of you.”

“That’s me. Ever the optimist.” 

You snorted.

~

That night, Ellie knocked on your door and asked you if you were up for another movie. You found yourself sitting on her comforter, plugging in your computer and booting it up minutes later.

Physically speaking, it had always been a little awkward to fit two people on her twin bed if they weren’t right next to each other, given that your laptop screen was a very unimpressive size. When you’d first started watching with her, Ellie would rest against the headboard, her legs stretched out in front of you while you would sit with your legs crossed, positioned sideways so you weren’t accidentally pushing her legs off. 

But after the day you had had, your back was sore and your whole body ached. Sitting on something soft without any back support as you angled yourself to look at the screen was quickly proving unsustainable. 

“Pause,” said Ellie about ten minutes in. You’d been watching an older sci-fi flick—Ellie’s choice. 

You complied, leaning forward and pressing the spacebar. “What’s up?”

“Are you even comfortable sitting like that?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Liar,” accused Ellie, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t think I don’t see you ‘discreetly’ cracking your back every 2 minutes. It’s ruining the movie.” 

“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head and smiling in exasperation. “It’s from all the years I spent hunched over a textbook.” 

“You know, you can sit up here,” she said, patting the space beside her. “I don’t bite.”

“Jury’s still out on that,” you said, though by the time Ellie let out a laugh you were already unfolding your legs and moving so you were next to her. 

She leaned forward, grabbing the bottom half of the laptop and lifting it. “Hey, do you want a blanket?”

“Sure.” 

Ellie’s other hand grabbed the edge of her comforter and held it up. 

Hesitantly, you slid your legs under and watched as Ellie did the same, awkwardly holding the laptop in the air before you were both settled enough to rest it on your covered right thigh and her left.  “Better?”

When you nodded, she reached her tattooed arm out and pressed play. The audio picked back up, but you couldn’t for the life of you focus on the movie.

When Ellie had asked if you’d wanted a blanket, you were expecting her to toss the throw blanket that would really only fit one person at you, not invite you to get under the blankets with her. That was significantly more intimate.

You two were sitting close enough that your sides were touching, from shoulder to thigh. You could feel her chest lift with each breath, feel the heat coming off of her.

After a while, Ellie properly laid down, taking the laptop and hoisting it up so it rested on her lower abdomen as she settled into her pillow.

You gulped, your eyes flickering between her face and the screen. Ellie’s gaze was fixed intently on the screen, her eyes half lidded with exhaustion.

You could be tired too. You weren’t, of course—your heart was racing a thousand miles an hour. But she didn’t know that. It was normal to lay down next to her, right? You’d done that with Irena more times than you could count, and it was never weird. Yeah, you could do that. 

Also, if you were totally horizontal, you would stop getting distracted by the sliver of her skin that her crooked shirt showed of her chest. 

In a moment of blind courage, you scooted down so your head was lying right next to Ellie’s. She didn’t seem to react, just extending her hand from under the covers to steady the laptop as it wobbled from the movement. 

Her sheets smelled like the soap that you used to wash your hair—a cottony freshness that had the slightest hint of lavender. 

“Are you going to fall asleep on me?” asked Ellie after a while, her voice nothing more than a whisper. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” you responded, equally quiet. Then, because you hadn’t made enough rash decisions for the night, you angled your head so it rested in the space right above her shoulder. 

She inhaled sharply but didn’t move. On her next exhale a piece of her auburn hair tickled your forehead. 

“How’re your stitches?” she asked suddenly, like she'd just remembered.

“They’re okay. I think. As stitches go.”

“After this is over, I’ll check on them,” she said. “Don’t let me forget, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, suddenly feeling shy. It was one thing for her to cut off your shirt and see your skin when she was trying to save your life while you were mentally gone. It was another thing altogether to pull up your shirt without adrenaline coursing through you.

You didn’t pay any attention to the rest of the movie, instead hyperfocused on the rhythm of Ellie’s breathing and the fact that if you moved just a little your chin would be on her shoulder. 

Her mention of the stitches wasn’t helping at all, either. Now all you could think about was the embarrassing way you’d basically tried to crawl under her skin, burying your face into her and clutching at her clothes like you were a child.

A part of you was disappointed that you hadn’t been more lucid at the time. If you had, you would’ve been able to clearly remember the softness of her skin against yours. You would’ve been able to enjoy it for what it was—the only time you’d be able to touch her like that.

Because you couldn’t go around just grabbing onto her shirt and getting into her lap. That was a one-off, the only time that the rules were waived. You couldn’t touch her like that now, now that you didn’t have any excuse. It wasn’t allowed.

But sometimes you wanted to so badly that it hurt. 

The movie ended abruptly, wrenching you out of your thoughts. 

“Hey,” whispered Ellie. “Sit up so I can see.”

Reluctantly, you pressed yourself up from your back and began rolling up the hem of your shirt. Ellie twisted to face backwards, her thin top riding up and showing part of her back as she reached for the lamp.

Once golden light returned to the room, Ellie turned back and bumped your hands away. She bent over, tilting her head so that she was looking at the stitches straight on.

They didn’t look bad, you had to admit. Though you wouldn’t consider the actual experience of getting the stitches a 5-star experience, Ellie had clearly known what she was doing. The surrounding flesh didn’t look angry or irritated, and she’d pulled the stitches just tight enough without it puckering. 

She prodded at the side, then gave a satisfied nod. “Looks good. What did I tell you? I’m really good at this sort of stuff.”

“I think you would’ve made a really good doctor,” you said once she’d sat up straight again. “Under different circumstances.”

“Is this you telling me that you don’t think I’m a good doctor now?” she teased. 

“Your bedside manner could use some work,” you offered.

Ellie laughed then, shaking her head and crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, yeah. You lived. You'll get over it.” 

“Did you go to school?” you found yourself asking, hung up on the thought of Ellie as a potential medical student. If she’d been in one of your intro biology classes, you never would’ve been able to pay attention. That was a fantasy you could shelve away for later. 

“Sort of,” said Ellie, looking down at her arms. “I went to a military prep school run by FEDRA. I didn’t graduate though—obviously. I was long gone by then.” 

“Right,” you said, remembering that she’d mentioned that she’d been 14 when she’d left Boston. “And what was it like?” 

She paused, opening her mouth before closing it. “It was—unkind. Joel's told me about schools before the outbreak. It was nothing like that. There were some normal classes, but most of it was meant to prepare us to be soldiers.” 

“Is that where you learned how to do sutures?” 

“Among other things.”

Terranova had no military academies, given that there was hardly any military presence. The founder of Terranova had bodyguards and there was a police force that controlled the borders, but it was nothing like Ellie described. With invisible borders and a social order that valued peace and tranquility over all else, there was no real danger posed to any of the citizens. 

But from what you had learned from movies and books and comments from older people, you had gathered a very dim picture of what a military academy looked like—harsh, strict, and cruel. 

“I’m sorry you had to grow up like that,” you said. 

“It’s okay.”

“Is there anything you would want to study? If you could?” 

Ellie’s eyes closed. “Yeah. There are a couple things.” 

She did not elaborate. 

~

It didn’t take long for you two to settle back into your routine of meeting in her room each evening and watching one of your downloaded movies. Following the night after you’d gotten your stitches, you wouldn’t even have to ask—Ellie would pull up her comforter and let you slide in next to her without giving you a second glance.

You’d also gotten over the fear of touching her. Now, when you flopped back so your head was on her pillow, you’d adjust until you were nestled into the crook of her neck. She never once reacted to it, remaining perfectly still unless she was adjusting the laptop or messing with the sound. 

Because it was normal, of course. You and Irena would rest your head on each other’s shoulders sometimes. That was something that friends did. 

One night a week or so into April, you and Ellie made a harrowing discovery: there was only one movie left in your collection that you two hadn’t seen together. 

“Damn,” said Ellie, furrowing her brow. “And there’s no way to get more on here?”

“I’m afraid not,” you said, frowning. “To download more or stream one, I’d need either an Ethernet cable or a wi-fi connection. Neither of which function out here anymore without cell towers and maintained cables.” 

“Right,” said Ellie, though her face told you that she didn’t understand a word that had come out of your mouth. “So—this is it?”

“Yeah.” Your finger hovered over the play button. “Savor it, I guess.” 

When you settled back and into her side, the heavy weight of dread settled into your stomach. Now that you’d finished showing her your entire collection, it’s not like she’d have a reason to invite you over every night. And there was especially no reason for you two to lie so closely together unless you were both trying to watch something on a small screen.

Once again, your excuse to touch her was gone.

You pressed closer to her as your mind raced. There was no way that Ellie didn’t see what you were doing as platonic, right? Was it possible that she was creeped out by how touchy you were but just tolerated it to be nice? 

Maybe. You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes fixed on the screen. Ellie didn’t see you like…like that. She spoke to you like you were an obligation, a burden. Because you always had been. You’d been a responsibility thrust on her by a father figure who felt like he was indebted to you from that stupid bag of coffee you were lucky enough to bring. 

Oh, god. Had Joel told her to befriend you? Had he asked for Ellie to pretend like she enjoyed spending time with you and to put up with your privileged, soft-hearted nonsense? 

The knowledge that you were spiraling wasn’t enough to stop you. You did the best that you could—tried to remind yourself that it’d been a while since she’d looked disgusted with you, recall that she was outspoken enough to tell you to fuck off if you did something she didn’t like—but it was to no avail.

Ellie reached forward and hit pause on the movie, thrusting you both into silence. 

“Is everything okay?” she asked after a moment. 

“Yeah, why?” 

“I can feel your heart going, like, crazy fast.” 

You froze. “Oh. Uh, yeah. I was just thinking.” 

Ellie pushed the laptop off of her, sitting up to give you an odd look. “About a near death experience or something? You running a marathon up there? That shit’s not normal.” 

You laughed nervously. “It’s really nothing. Just an, uh, suspenseful movie.” 

Which was actually really stupid of you to say, because you were watching some obscure Tarkovsky film that did nothing but pan over burning buildings and pensive men. For the past 5 minutes, there had been nothing on screen but the back of a car driving through traffic with minimal sound. Also, it was in Russian, and the English subtitles made zero sense.

There was a reason why this was the last movie you chose.

“This is the most boring fucking movie I’ve ever watched in my life, so you’re a dirty fucking liar,” said Ellie. Then her face pinched in worry. “Wait. Have you taken a look at your stitches lately?” 

Before you could answer, she was grabbing a flashlight off her nightstand and yanking the comforter off you. She was pulling your shirt up when you finally found your voice.

“Wait!” you said, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and yanking it back in place. “It’s not—I don’t have an infection, okay? There’s nothing wrong with me. I really was just thinking, okay?”

“About what?” She reached back to place her flashlight back on the stand without taking her eyes off you. 

“It’s nothing important.”

“If you say so.” 

She picked the laptop up and placed it back on her thighs, lying back down. You followed suit, but this time you didn’t touch her, opting to keep as much distance as you could so she wouldn’t hear the stuttering of your heart. 

Not even 5 minutes had passed before Ellie sat up to pause the video again.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. Why?” 

“You’re acting weird,” she accused, but there wasn’t much conviction behind her voice. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that you’re acting weird,” she repeated, shutting your laptop off and moving it to the bottom of her bed, despite the protests that left your lips. 

“I don’t understand,” you said. “I’m just watching the movie. I’m not doing anything. “

“You’re not watching the movie,” she said. “You weren’t even looking at the screen. What’s got you so bothered? Did I do something?” 

“Of course not.” You pulled your legs under you so your legs were crossed and your back was against the wall. “You don’t need to worry. It’s honestly fine. I’m sorry if I’ve done something to imply otherwise.” 

Ellie rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing. “You stress me out. You can just tell me, you know? No need to be so cagey. I promise I’ve heard worse.” 

“Don’t be so quick to say that.”

“Okay, now you have to tell me,” she said. “I’m never going to know peace again with a hook like that.” 

You were about to open your mouth to tell her that it was stupid and that it didn’t matter, but something stopped you. 

That was the coward’s way out. That’s what you’d always done—hid your feelings and concealed your emotions. That’s how you’d been raised. That’s how you thought everyone was. But now that you’d spent 2 months in Jackson, you’d realized that some people actually just said what they thought. And that, in the grand scheme of things, it was a better system than the Terranovian culture of superficiality.  

Just because the you 2 months ago would have shook her head and changed the subject didn’t mean the you now had to. 

Maybe this you could be different. Maybe, for once, this you could be brave. 

“I really—” You stopped yourself. Saying I really like you didn’t even begin to encompass what you felt for the girl sitting across from you. To distill the sheer magnitude of your feelings down to four words felt criminal. The swell in your chest that never went away whenever you were near her could never and would never be adequately represented in the puny offerings of the Latin alphabet and the English language, and if you were going to do this, you were going to do it right. 

You dared to look up at her for a moment. She was completely still, her green eyes reflecting the dim moonlight from outside. Once you met her gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull it away.

“I’m really sorry that I’m putting you in an uncomfortable position for saying this,” you began (because old habits ran deep, and you would rather die than be impolite), “And I totally understand if you don’t want to talk to me after this. And I’m sorry for not telling you earlier.”

“As much as I’m sure that this is some sort of cultural cornerstone for you, please spare me the 6 foot long disclaimer script,” Ellie drawled.

“Right.” You gulped. “Anyway. As I was saying.”

“Any day now.” 

At that moment, she had never looked more perfect. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark lighting, so the weak moonlight that spilled in from the window above her created a halo around her head. 

“It’s you.” Your voice came out tiny. “You’re all that I can think about, and I don’t know what to do.”

There. It was off your chest.

For a moment, it was as if you’d suspended time, stopping Earth on its axis as you both held your breaths. There was nothing but silence and the occasional wooden creak of the old house’s foundation in the wind. 

Ellie’s face betrayed nothing, save for something in her eyes and the disappearance of the smirk that had been on her lips moments before. 

Then she spoke, her response whispered.

“Come here, then.” 

final a/n: NOW HOLD ON before you show up outside my dorm with pitchforks and torches 🗣️🗣️🗣️ i'm so sorry but this was a necessary evil as this was going to a massive scene without the chapter break. also a disproportionately massive chapter compared to the other ones coming out. i write very quickly and should get the following part out in a timeframe similar to the first 3 parts. thank u for reading ! tell me what you think abt this chapter while you wait x

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams self insert #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams imagine

[neteyamsoare]

Sober Up First.

༉‧₊˚. Featuring. Ralak Sepwan x Fem! Sully! Omatikaya! Drunk! Reader.

༉‧₊˚. Request From [@inlovewithpandora]. Prompt for 1.3K celebration! Ralak x fem!sully!reader character A kissing a drunk character B (who is coming onto them strong) and then realizing they’re drunk and being like “no i can’t believe i’m saying this but no, not like this” There is a celebration in the village and reader decides to drink some fermented fruit (aka alcohol) and as she drinks she doesn’t think it’s that effective so she drinks ALOT and it sneaks up on her bc she isn’t used to the Metkayina type alcohol bc it’s stronger than what the Omatikaya drink. I’m thinking reader and Ralak are just in the talking stage so they haven’t kissed or anything yet so when Reader comes up to him and pulls him away from the warriors (or whoever he’s talking to) and starts heavily flirting, being touchy-feely, and kissing him etc. etc. he’s taken by surprise but he kisses her back anyway bc ofc he can’t resist until he begins to taste the alcohol on her lips so he pulls back and tells her the quote above.

༉‧₊˚. Summary. With alcohol in your system, you try to take your relationship further with Ralak.

༉‧₊˚. General Tags. Fluff.

༉‧₊˚. Content Warnings. Alcohol is mentioned and Aged!up Ao’nung.

༉‧₊˚. Word Count. 1,2k.

༉‧₊˚. Index. Akula — [is a Pandoran ocean animal that roams the reefs of the Eastern Sea], Yuey — [beautiful (inner beauty)], Tanhì — [star], Syulang — [flower], Irayo — [thank you], and Tsurak — [also knowing as a Skimwing: is a Pandoran creature inhabiting the tropical oceans].

༉‧₊˚. Notes. Thank you to @zestys-stuff and @tiredmamaissy for bringing this handsome man to life!! Also thank you to Zesty (the creator of him) for allowing me to write for him!! 🥰 I love him so much and wanted to write for him so much. This is my first piece for him, still trying to get his character right, hope you guys love it. | Also thank you boo for sending in this prompt, had so much fun writing it, hope you like it!!

༉‧₊˚. Extra. Comments, likes, and reblogs are highly appreciated but not pressured. 🤍

༉‧₊˚. Starred Links. Navigation + Masterlist + Prompts + Taglist

You walk into the party the Metkayina are having for Ao'nung and his new mate, everyone is excited for the new couple especially since they will be the new leaders of the clan when Tonowari and Ronal step down.

You took a deep breath as you started to look around, many people were already dancing with each other, grinding on their mates, and others were talking and laughing with their friends as they drank.

Parties were always your thing back in the forest, you always loved to party, hang out with friends, and drink but now you only cared about one thing— well one person, Ralak. 

A guy you caught feelings for ever since coming here and you recently found out he felt the same, he was the one to invite you to this party and the reason why you were late, you wanted to make sure you looked good so you took out your braids for the night and wore your best top and loincloth that you weaved yourself. 

“[Name]! You made it!!” You hear a voice say behind you and you turn to see Tsireya smiling at you as she reaches for your hand, leading you to where the drinks were. “[Name], you should get a drink!!” She shouts and you could tell she was drunk already and let out a laugh.

“Sure, I missed getting loose like this,” you commented as you still tried to look around for Ralak but he was nowhere in sight, maybe he decided not to come, you didn’t want to think of that as a possibility but you can’t help but let your mind wander to that thought and once Tsireya hands you over the small cup with alcohol in it and you lift to your lips swallowing each drop as you feel the burn as it goes down your throat. 

When you finish it, you ask for another cup and Tsireya raises an eyebrow bone at you.

“Are you about that, [Name]? This stuff is pretty strong,” she warns but you shrug it off, you were used to drinking back in the forest so you thought you can handle the alcohol they had here.

“It’s fine, I can handle more,” you smirked as you pass her the cup you had. 

A few minutes had passed and the alcohol had fully taken over your body, it was more substantial than you expected, you assumed it would be like the alcohol you had back home but it wasn't, it was 2 times stronger than you were used to.

Tsireya had pulled you over to the dance floor after your last cup and started dancing, you so out of it started dancing as well as giggles were making their way out of your mouth.

As you dance, you looked around and your eyes landed on him, there was a bit of a distance between the two of you and he was talking to someone who looked like one of the warriors you had seen talking to your father.

A smile spreads across your face as you stop dancing and made your way over to him.

As you stumbled a bit over to him, you couldn't help but admire his features, he was so handsome, he was tall which made you always squeeze your thighs together whenever he walked up to you and beautiful bioluminescent freckles were laid all over his body.

You bit your bottom lip as his eyes connect with yours and a small smile is thrown your way.

“Fighting an Akula is my dream,” is all could manage to hear come out of the warrior’s mouth as you intertwine your hand with his, pulling him away from the conversation, too drunk to remember mannerisms.

Ralak quickly wraps up the discussion as he allows you to drag him away from the party a bit, leading him more towards the ocean so the two of you didn’t have to shout to hear each other. 

“You look so yuey, tanhì,” Ralak states as he looks at you from head to toe, a blush spreads across your cheeks and a smile forms on your face.

“Irayo,” you smirked as one of your hands on his chest feeling up his pecs, his hands made their way to your waist pulling you in a little and you let out a small giggle as you look up into his eyes.

“What are the odds that I move to the Metkayina and meet a very sayrip guy like you?” You questioned not breaking eye contact with him as you gently caressed his tattoo that was placed on his lower abdomen leading to his cock. 

You look down at his lips and you bite down on your bottom lip as you look back up at his eyes, leaning in closer getting on your tippy toes as he bends down a bit to connect his lips with your soft ones. 

The kiss was very gentle and tender, you smiled into the kiss as your hand gently stroked his queue as soft moans comes out of your mouth.

This comes as a shock for Ralak, since the relationship was new, you both had agreed to take it slow, this was the first time the two of you kissed and it was the first time he saw you being touchy with him. Well, you loved touching him before but this was different. 

You open your mouth a bit letting him slide his tongue with ease as it rolls against yours, his hands start to travel down your waist until they land on your round soft ass, squeezing it a bit making you moan into his mouth.

Ralak's eyes widen a bit when he tastes the liquor on your tongue, he immediately pulls away which brings a frown on your face as you catch your breath. “No I can’t believe I’m saying this but no, not like this” 

 “What’s wrong?” You queried, oblivious to the problem. “Tanhì… you’re drunk,” Ralak responded as he took your hand, squeezing it a bit.

“I only drank a little bit, it’s okay,” you slurred over your words but he sighed. “I want more than anything to take our relationship to the next level… just not like this.” He looks down at you with a small smile on his face. “I care about you too much.”

“But I want you now…” you whine, pouting a bit and he lets out a chuckle as he brings you closer to him. “I promise, syulang, when you’re sober, we can do anything you want but for now…” he bends down and gives your forehead a kiss.

“How about we go home and cuddle?” He offers and a smile reaches your lips as you snuggle against him.

“That sounds nice, but I do feel a bit drowsy.” Ralak smiles as he intertwines his hand with yours, walking towards the ocean as he calls for his tsurak, your tail wrapping around his leg to feel more closer to him than you already were.

If you was to go back in time, you would choose him over and over again, hell you’d choose him in any life, you were each others soulmate and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

🔖 @zanabelle99, @moonchildxoxx, @jakescumdump, @neteyamsblog, @btsiguess-kpop, @sweetdayme4427, @utsukushisa0, @shit-i-say-shit-i-think, @23victoria, @anonymousailurophile, @tsireqas, @kittenw, @valentinqee, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @ducks118, @lilmackiee, @mooniequeen, @neo-novaa, @samistars, @so-this-is-a-thing-noww, @rainbowturdz, @eyweveng, @doireallyhavetonamthis.

© neteyamsoare 2023. | All Rights Reserved. Do not repost on other platforms, copy, steal, or translate any of my works!

#ಣ : sylaphone #ralak x female reader #ralak x y/n #ralak x reader #ralak x you #ralak #atwow oc #na'vi x reader #na'vi x y/n #na'vi x sully!reader #atwow x y/n #atwow x reader #atwow x you #ralak x f!reader #ralak fluff

[melancholy-of-nadia]

love u lately (m) #9 | myg/knj/pjm

title: love u lately​ chapter title: #9 - pour up pairing: yoongi x f. reader, namjoon x f. reader, jimin x f. reader (yoonminjoon x f. reader) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; college/university au , pseudo frat! bts; best friends! yoonminjoon friends to lovers; summary: welcome to your "fuck it" era. you ran away and haven't returned back to the house since the fight with yoongi and jimin. you're not sure how namjoon hasn't caught on to anything yet... but now taehyung, hoseok, and jungkook just invited you to go out to party at some random frat not at your campus and get you to destress from the drama. oh you're going to destress alright. pour up a drink and well, you might... regret... this decision... warnings:  ANOTHER LONG CHAPTER, flashback pov, angsty, stressful, alcohol consumption, dance battle, FIGHTING, multiple fights?, blood mention, crying, THE TRUTH, AND MORE CONFESSIONS, txt appearance, sakura appearance, soyoon and john eun and san appearance, jin lowkey snitching, ANGRY NAMJOON, soft namjoon, throwing up, kissing, SMUT, creampie, fingering, no other smut warnings it's a surprise but its very tame no worries, reader is on BC, good end?, EXTRA POV at the end, a lot happens i can't remember hehehe maybe i am drunk too note: again pls send love to @daegudrama who is in charge of editing these terrible chapter total word count: 14.3k drop date:  April 12th, 2024, 6:00PM PST cross posted on AO3 here ← #8 | Series Masterlist | #10

March 1st [Friday]

It’s been 2 weeks.

2 weeks since the fight.

2 weeks since you have last been “home”.

That’s not to say you haven’t taken a shower or changed out of your clothes since then. God, no.

You’ve been staying in Hwasa’s dorm ever since. Her roommate went on an immersion program abroad, so she has no roommate for this semester. Luckily, you’ve had access to her dorm’s shared bathroom to freshen up and her roommates' baron bed.

As for clothes and other stuff, Jungkook has been bringing you everything you need. He’s the only one you can rely on from the house as you’ve always been the most comfortable around him outside of Namjoon, Jimin, and Yoongi. He’s also the one who knew about the deal and didn’t tell anyone, aside from blabbering to Jimin back in October. 

You’re not 100% sure what the aftermath was like in that house after you left. But one thing for sure is that the other guys—not involved in the deal—have covered up things to Joon about your disappearance. They know how rocky things are, and if Namjoon knew all of this, you think it could make things a million times worse. You appreciate them stepping in like that though, no matter what they think of the situation.

Jungkook did attempt to recap it all through text, rather thoroughly.

+++++++++++

 — past —

February 15th [Friday]

“You guys done fucked things up now. A three-way relationship? Are you fucking kidding me?” Jin was seething as he scolded Jimin and Yoongi in the living room. The other guys were sitting at the dining table as Jin told them that they had to stay for this ordeal. They sat there in silence, waiting for this to (hopefully) end as soon as possible.

If the argument from earlier didn’t sober everyone up, then Jin’s yelling definitely did.

“And you! Taehyung! What were you thinking asking that?!” Jin pointed his finger at Taehyung.

“Huh? Me!? Jimin was the one who told me to ask something risky if Yoongi pulled that block.” Tae tried to avert his gaze from the older man. 

Everyone groaned. Jenga blocks still remained scattered on the table and on the floor of the living room. Unfinished snacks and drinks remained a mess around the table as well. Jin made a mental note to make Yoongi and Jimin clean up the aftermath of Friday Night Game Night as punishment for what happened.

“But you know what, I expected something like this at some point. Hoseok and Taehyung, please pay up. I take Venmo.” The two men—that Jin name dropped—groaned, pulling out their phones to send him the money. “Hyung, what the hell, man?!” Jimin glanced at them back and forth, appalled. Even Yoongi was confused that there was something like this going on, but he really shouldn’t be the one judging right now. “What? Did you think we didn’t suspect anything? That y’all were slick? There were signs...” Jin’s words drifted off.

“Like?” Yoongi narrowed his eyes at the older man. “Well should I mention the blowjob that Honey gave you in Mr. Kang’s office?” Hoseok interjected as he turned around from his chair. Yoongi’s eyes widened, “What the fuck? H-How did you—” He stumbled on his words. Hoseok didn’t come in until after it ended, he thought. How would he have known!?

“The door may have been closed, but people approaching the door can still hear what goes on behind it. Especially in that old ass building…” Hoseok sighed, “Thought it was just you jacking off in there at first, but when I heard you say, and I quote,  ‘Fuck. You really drive me crazy. You know that, Sunshine?’ I connected the dots quickly. I sat out there waiting until it ended so I could come in to drop my shit.” He emphasized, leaving Yoongi completely speechless.

“Jimin sent me Y/N’s nudes accidently one night!” Taehyung stood up from his chair in an instant, abruptly confessing. “He unsent them, but I caught it! He had to fes’ up to me after that. I thought it was just the both of them in a situationship. Then when Jin said Yoongi hyung was also involved, I couldn’t believe that. But I started connecting the dots during the trip.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at Jimin, snarling a bit. Trying to avoid further questioning, Jimin mouths out to him that it happened while he was drunk when he stayed over at Taehyung’s during Christmas break. Though of course, Yoongi cannot read his lips.

“I didn’t lose the bet because I always knew there was a possibility it wasn’t just hyung and Honey after I caught them having sex. Especially based on the conversation Jimin and I had during his birthday party. So I was on Jin’s side.” Jungkook added, then he shrugged. 

“Interesting. Yoongi had told me about a dilemma he had with someone he was seeing. Jimin was also acting a little too clingy to Honey than usual, so I put the pieces together and realized what these two were doing. I thought I was wrong, but Jesus Christ…” Jin sat down in the loveseat, wondering if he had failed as president of Beta Tau Sigma. Should he have not let you move in to prevent this? Or should he have brought it up privately to you three and warned you all not to do it? Whatever scenario he thinks of doesn’t matter. What happened, happened. Now people are hurt and humiliated. He has to step it up to help you guys in any way, especially you. “Does Namjoon hyung know?” Taehyung inquired, earning everyones’ immediate deadpan stare at him. The silent action makes it seem that there is a shared understanding of something. No one wants Namjoon to know what happened. They know that if he finds out, they might have to be ready for their own funerals. “No.” Yoongi answered. “Fair enough. So what’s the plan now?” He followed up with another question. “We don’t even know where Honey went? Is she even somewhere safe?” Taehyung’s attitude towards this situation has been nonchalant, but in reality, he was actually very concerned for your mental wellbeing. He may be a social butterfly fuckboi, but whatever Jimin and Yoongi hid from you was a new low to him. You weren’t very close to him before, but he has grown fond of you in the past 2 years he’s known you. “We’re not telling Namjoon hyung that’s for sure!” Jungkook chimed in, scrolling at his recent messages. “I texted Hwasa because it’s the first person I thought she’d go to. She said that Honey was with her, asleep on her bed. Doesn’t seem like Honey wants to come back anytime soon.”

The guys let out a sigh of relief, though guilt shadowed Jimin and Yoongi. Feeling worn out, Jimin decided to get up from his spot, stumbled a bit and headed up to his room. Jin’s about to follow in pursuit to get him to come back and help clean up, but Yoongi stopped him. “Just let him be, I’ll help clean up if you need it,” The cat-eyed man said, reading into Jin’s intentions. “He’s already mentally punishing himself over this.”

After this, the other guys went into their rooms and called it a night. Yoongi remained in the dimly lit living room area, cleaning the mess that was left behind and reflecting on his frustrations. +++++++++++

You asked Jungkook about Namjoon. You knew that he would start to find things suspicious and eventually interrogate everyone about your whereabouts, like the older sibling figure he is. But Jungkook said that wasn’t the case. Jungkook [Feb 22nd 20XX; 9:24PM]: No, Hyung’s been holed up in his room working on his polisci papers or in the lib’s lab room helping his buddies with stuff.

Jungkook [Feb 22nd 20XX; 9:25PM]: He did ask about you though. Jungkook [Feb 22nd 20XX; 9:25PM]: But me and tae said that you’ve been busy working on a mid-semester project with her so you would be staying over at her dorm for a while. Jungkook [Feb 22nd 20XX; 9:27PM]: Yoongi hyung and Jimin have been closed off since then, but Namjoon hyung hasn’t noticed much.

You keep going through your past texts between Jungkook and rereading what was sent. There are more messages from him mentioning that Jimin and Yoongi have been more standoffish towards others, making you feel concerned for them. Wait. No. You shake your head. Why are you even worried? They were the ones who started it. Did they not realize that things were better off platonic, instead of messing with your heart?

You breathe out, locking your phone. You go back to lying down on your side on the bed, closing your eyes to stop yourself from spiraling. The door suddenly unlocks, and the creaking sound marks Hwasa's entrance into the dorm. Opening your eyes, you observe her movements as she places her backpack on the desk. “Hey Hon, did you go to your class at noon?” She asks, her eyes searching yours. You nod, answering, “Yeah, couldn’t skip it today. Professor Watanabe said we were having a quiz because no one asked questions last class. Came back here after class.”

“Ah, gotcha.” Hwasa comes over to settle on your bed, arranging a throw pillow against the wall for comfort. She shifts her position, making herself at home. "How are ya feeling?"

“Better than before, but still not that great.”

“Maybe you should go out tonight. I think Nu Kappa is having a party tonight? Oh wait, Sigma Lambda is for sure having a house party. Let me check in with Joshua for that one because–”

“No.” You cut her off, though the word coming out of your mouth sounded much harsher than you had wanted it to. “I just don’t want to be around people that I know or potentially know me. Or just run into them.” You refer to Yoongi and Jimin with that line, maybe even Namjoon too. 

You want to talk this whole thing over with them, but you’re not ready yet. You just can’t organize your thoughts yet, and you don’t know why. Maybe it’s the anxiety of knowing that a conversation about this would eventually lead to you guys to cut off contact completely. And that could be it. Maybe that’s for the better. 

You will move out of the Beta Tau Sigma house.

Maybe you can ask Student Housing if they’d be willing to let you officially move into Hwasa’s dorm for the rest of the semester.

Yeah, you can manage to make this work out. But is it what you really want?

No. Of course not. But at this point in time, you can’t imagine this going any other way. “My bad, girl. I just wanted to help cheer you up.” Hwasa’s expression becomes somber.

No, no. You didn’t mean it like that. Why can’t your brain work properly?! “No, it’s just— sorry.” You apologize, trying to think of something to brighten up the mood. “But if you want to go out, don’t let me stop you, bestie! Maybe you want to see a special someone out.” 

Hwasa lets out a giggle, “It’s okay, I know you’re going through a lot right now.” She places her hand on your back to give you reassuring rubs. “But I’ll take that suggestion. Joshua told me his friend is making his DJ debut at Sigma Lambda so I wanted to drop by and support.”

Concern crosses your face, “That sounds pretty awesome, but are you okay going alone? I can go with you if you want.” She shakes her head. “Nah, it’s cool. I don’t want to force you to be there when you’re not feeling too hot. I’ll hit up Annie and ask if she’s down to come with me.” “Okay, that sounds good.” You reply, appreciating her understanding and the attempt to bring some normalcy back into the evening.

+++++++++++

Hwasa was in luck because Annie did respond not long after she sent her a text. She invited Hwasa to get ready over at her dorm, which was the nice apartment-like dorm on the northernmost part of campus. Hwasa says that she might come back late, but more than likely, thinks she’ll be knocked out at Annie’s dorm. She’ll keep you posted. Before she leaves that night, she gives you her access card (since you’ve been entering her dorm before thanks to the shared bathroom she has with the 2 girls in the next dorm) and tells you to feel free to go out to get something for dinner. After that happens, you’re left alone now. The Hello Kitty clock on Hwasa’s table read, “8:46 PM” Maybe you should grab something to eat. You honestly haven’t been eating properly. But you are tired of the dining hall food after almost two weeks of eating it. You hated it even when you used to dorm last year. “Maybe I’ll order from DoorDash to treat myself after a tough week,” You say to yourself while you lay down on Hwasa’s big fluffy pink floor rug. Netflix movie night and take-out sounds ideal, right?

Just as you’re scrolling through your phone trying to find an option you’re craving, you hear a loud knock at the door. 

Oh shit.

It’s not Hwasa, right? She would’ve texted you that she was coming back because she forgot something. Then is it the RA? No. Hwasa said she was cool with him, so he wouldn’t snitch you out. Did something else happen?

You get up from your comfortable position to walk towards the door. You’re not gonna lie, you’re a little nervous to open it.

Who the fuck could it even be on a Friday night?

You open it slowly, seeing tall figures coming into view.

“Honey, come out!” “Taehyung!?” You yelp out. Once you recognize the voice, you rapidly open the door wide enough to find Taehyung, Jungkook and Hoseok on the other side. “What the hell are you guys doing here?” You ask. You don’t remember telling them to come over. Even if you did, there’s not much they can do in such a small dorm. This is the first time in two weeks you’re talking to any of the other guys besides Jungkook. “We came over because we want to invite you out,” Hoseok responds this time, signature heart smile showing. “We know you haven’t been feeling well so we want to go with you and let loose!”

You’re getting deja vu from the same conversation you had with Hwasa earlier.

“So go get changed out of your…pajamas.” Jungkook looks down at you as he speaks, somewhat checking you out. A thought in your mind just clicks that he was looking at your chest, wearing no bra and cleavage all out. Men… You’ve been wearing your lace tank top and My Melody pajama pants since you got back from class. You didn’t have any plans of going out after class, so why be dressed up in tight jeans, a shirt and whatever else for the whole day? 

“Look, guys. That sounds like a mighty plan you got there, but I really don’t think I should go.” “But why not? There’s nothing better than drinking and forgetting your regrets! Please come with us!” Taehyung steps in closer, trying to welcome himself inside.

“Because… I’m feeling a little sick…?” The guys look at you in complete disbelief before you admit the truth. “Okay, fine, I don’t want to party around here and see these people.”

“Who said we’re partying here?” Jungkook smirks, “No, we’re going… somewhere else.” “Where is this ‘somewhere else’ you speak of?” You narrow your eyes, mild interest sparking behind them.

“Stop asking so many questions and just get ready. I’ll even help you pick out something.” Hoseok takes this as an opportunity to enter the dorm, where you direct him to your closet of stuff. The two other guys follow in as well and stand there as Hoseok is sifting through the rack mixed with jeans, blouses, skirts and sweaters.  

“Here, this is cute.” He hands you your black heart ring detail halter top, flared jeans, and a black knit cardigan. “Oh, this isn’t that bad of a look? No wonder people say you’re the most stylish on the dance team.” 

Hoseok grins, his eyes lighting up with pride at the compliment. "Well, you know, I've got an eye for these things. Now, go change into this. The night may be young, but we’re not getting any younger here!"

You take the outfit from him, a small smile playing on your lips. "Thanks, Hobi. I appreciate it." You look back at the guys who are still standing in the dorm, chuckling. "Um alright, can you guys step outside the door while I change?"

“Oh whoops!” Jungkook yells out, The three guys scurry out of the dorm, giving you a moment of privacy to change. 

Hoseok calls after you behind the door, "Let me know if you need any makeup tips! I'm a pro at this too."

You chuckle, appreciating the effort to lighten the mood. In the bathroom, you quickly change into the outfit Hoseok picked out. It's a mix of your style but with a touch of Hoseok's fashion flair. The black heart ring detail halter top fits snugly, paired with flared jeans and a cozy black knit cardigan. You glance at yourself in the mirror, the reflection showing a slightly different version of you.

After a deep breath, you open the door, greeted by the approving nods and smiles of Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook. Taehyung claps his hands together. "Looking good! Now, let's get out there and have some fun!"

With excitement now in the air, you grab your bag before you go and you all head out the building.

+++++++++++

Jungkook leads the way to his car, a sleek 2017 Mercedes-Benz C300 parked in the student parking lot next to Hwasa's dorm. The soft glow of the streetlights reflects off the polished surface, and you can't help but appreciate the comfortable luxury of his car. You will always remember that he begged his parents to sign off on it so he could get it as his graduation gift.

Jungkook unlocks the doors, and you all pile in, anticipation building for the night ahead.

The drive is filled with a mix of laughter and excited chatter as you navigate through the city. The atmosphere in the car is lively, the previous stress of weeks ago momentarily forgotten as you stare out of the car looking at the skyline of city lights on the freeway. It feels less suffocating over here. No Jimin. No Yoongi. No Namjoon. Just you and the other boys. You weren’t too keen on coming along with them, but now that you’re sitting here, DEAN’s Pour Up bass boosted on the car speakers, you know you made a good choice. You gotta let loose.

After 20 minutes on the road, Jungkook exits off the freeway into a residential area. As he finds a parking spot, you can hear the distant bass of music and the chatter of college students walking around. Is this another college’s Greek row?  The car engine turns off, and you all step outside looking around the neighborhood.

You're immediately struck by the grandeur of the fraternity houses. They are much bigger than the ones at your college campus, their size and architecture exuding an air of privilege. These houses are easily identifiable by the prominent display of large Greek letters or flags proudly adorning the front, signaling the presence of each fraternity.

Lights spill out from the windows, and the distant sounds of music and laughter grow louder as you approach the houses. The atmosphere is charged with anticipation, and you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness being here. Though, you’re glad that you won’t run into people you know here. And even if you do, the chance is likely really low. Who would come 20 minutes away to party at another college?

Once this question comes to your mind, you feel a little odd. Wait, are you forgetting something?

Before you can think about it more, Jungkook gently holds your wrist, leading the way through the lively crowds of students walking around, and you follow suit. 

The four of you approach the entrance of one of the bigger fraternity houses, the thumping bass becomes almost palpable. The flag outside says ΗΨΒ— Eta Psi Beta. You’re honestly not familiar with this one as it seems to be one that doesn’t have a chapter at your college. Without hesitation or restrictions, you guys walk into the side entrance leading to the backyard. After several steps of walking along the slightly lit path, you're engulfed in an atmosphere of sights and sounds. The massive backyard is packed with people, the air pulsating with the beats of a 2010s party mix blaring from the speakers. You see a pretty girl with a colorful knit top and black hair DJing the party from the far end of the backyard, along with several people behind her overseeing the vibes. Color-changing lights crisscross above, connected to tall oak trees, casting a warm glow over the lively scene below.

To your right, a makeshift bar is set up, complete with a variety of drinks and colorful cocktails. Students are chatting, dancing, and moving in synchronized rhythm with the music. The atmosphere is infectious, and you find yourself getting into the groove, the worries of the past weeks slowly fading away. 

Jungkook, Taehyung, and Hoseok lead you through the crowd, their excitement contagious. You can't help but marvel at the sheer scale of the party, a stark contrast to the more intimate gatherings you're used to. 

"Isn't this amazing?" Taehyung exclaims over the music, and you respond with an enthusiastic nod.

“How the hell did you guys find this party?” you shout back at him, catching yourself staring at the DJ Girl changing the setlist to some House and UK Garage music to hype up the crowd more.

“Jungkook says he knows a guy here!” Hoseok adds.

“Yeah! We go to the same gym off-campus and box a bit,” Jungkook explains closer to your ear so you could hear amid the lively ambiance. “Oh look! Speak of the devil!” His eyes widen when he sees the man he’s referring to step right up in front of you guys. “Woah! Jungkook! You came!” The man speaks with excitement in his eyes, facial features reflecting a youthfulness that adds to his charm. Like Jungkook, he possesses captivating doe eyes that convey both innocence and a hint of curiosity. He is seemingly younger than your group, however, his height is exactly the same as the trio with you. Jungkook chuckles, going in for a bro hug. “Didn’t think I was going to, but I dragged some friends with me.” Jungkook moves aside to introduce you three, “This is Hoseok, Taehyung, and Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you guys! I’m Taehyun Kang.” He extends a handshake to each of you, catching you off guard. Awkwardly, you take his hand in yours. His politeness radiates, and you can't help but find it adorable.

Taehyun leads the way, gesturing toward the makeshift bar. "Oh! Since you guys are here, let's get some drinks!" he suggests, guiding you through the lively crowd towards the vibrant bar area. “We have a special jungle juice just for tonight’s event. We call it Sugar Rush Ride!” He leans close to you guys, “We basically dumped a bunch of blue raspberry Jolly Ranchers in it mixed with other alcohols!” “Oh that seems pretty cool! Let me get some!” You say.  Taehyun smiles, pouring you some in a blue plastic cup and hands it to you. “You guys want to try some too?”

“I’m the DD for the drive back home, but these two can get some.” Hoseok reassures the younger men it's okay to get wasted. He’s always been a reliable upperclassman and brother to them.

You take the chance to sip the cup. Mm. It’s a little too sweet for your taste, but the strong burning sensation (of what you assume is rum and vodka), helps it lessen. Good. This is what you need right now so badly.

Fuck it.

For a moment, you're content to let go of your troubles and embrace the carefree spirit of the night.

+++++++++++

“Where’s Y/N? She’s not in her room.”

This question catches Jin off guard as he sips his wine, slightly choking on it before setting it down on the coffee table. He’s hanging out with Namjoon, John, San and Soyoon watching a Ghibli movie in the living room. Not that he was paying much attention, he was on his phone playing the new Maple Story update. Yoongi went to play basketball at the intramural gymnasium on campus, while Jimin went drinking with an upperclassmen, Taemin.

Of course Jin knew where you were this whole time since the fight, and even tonight when Hoseok said they were inviting you to the Eta Psi Beta party at the neighboring university. But is he about to tell Namjoon?

He’s not sure. Jin pauses the game on his phone, glancing at Namjoon. "Yeah, she mentioned she's spending the night at Hwasa's place. They've been hanging out a lot lately," he says, attempting a nonchalant tone to avoid revealing any hint of the tension between you and the others. His eyes flicker between the screen and Namjoon, unsure whether he should disclose more information.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, a slight frown forming on his face. "Is she okay?"

Jin hesitates for a moment, debating how much to share. "I guess? She just said she needed a change of scenery, you know?"

"What do you mean?" Namjoon presses, sensing there might be more to the story.

Jin takes a deep breath, his gaze shifting away momentarily. "Look, there's been some tension lately. I think she just needed some space to clear her head."

Namjoon's expression tightens, concern deepening. "Tension? What happened?" John, San and Soyoon’s attention from the movie has been diverted to the conversation happening between Jin and Namjoon. Jin sighs, knowing he can’t divulge more information in front of them. So he gets up, grabbing Namjoon’s wrist, and dragging him into the hallway leading to their rooms. “God, I hate having to hide shit from you of all people.” Jin whispers aggressively, putting his hands on the taller man’s shoulders. “Fine, basically, Y/N ran away two weeks ago and is staying at Hwasa’s dorm.” “...What the fuck, Seokjin?!” Namjoon reins in his emotions, realizing that getting upset won't help him understand the situation better. Now, more than ever, he needs to find out what's going on with you. “Why didn’t anyone tell me—”

He interrupts the younger man, sighing in frustration. “It’s not my place to tell you what happened exactly and neither was it anyone else’s. I think you might have an idea, though, even if you weren’t there. If you want to know, go find her.”

Namjoon is left speechless, brows furrowing as he absorbs the information, a surge of worry overtaking him. 

Jin nods, understanding Namjoon's urgency. “And we didn’t want to get you upset and probably wreck anything…or anyone.”

“Where is she, Jin?”

Jin, once again hesitates for a moment. “She’s at a party with Hoseok, Tae, and Jungkook. It’s at the…Eta Psi Beta house at that neighboring university, not too far from here.”

“Oh Sh–” Namjoon looks like a deer caught in headlights, evident concern plastered on his face. “Did you not fucking know that’s the frat that he is in?”

“He?” Jin pauses for a moment confused about who Namjoon was referring to before it all clicks in his head, panicking. “Holy fuck! How was I supposed to remember that? Jungkook said he had a friend there. And I mean, it’s a big frat…what are the odds that she’ll run into him?”

Namjoon takes a deep breath, frustration and worry battling within him. He has been keeping tabs here and there on this guy for over a year, just out of concern for you. He wasn’t sure if you’d ever plan to seek him, or vice versa. No, this isn’t good. 

He doesn't want to waste any time. 

“I’m going out!” Without another word, he heads towards the front door.

John gets up from the couch seeing the commotion. “Woah, Joon, what’s going on?” His brows furrow, searching Namjoon's face for answers.

Namjoon's jaw clenches as he sighs, concern etched across his face. “I need to go find Y/N. She’s at Eta Psi’s party at UOX 20 minutes away, and she might be in some trouble soon.” As he speaks, his eyes dart around, calculating the steps he needs to take.

John senses the urgency in Namjoon's movements and offers his assistance. “I’ll take you! I didn’t drink at all earlier so I’m good to drive.”

Soyoon, catching wind of the unfolding situation, joins in, her eyes wide with concern. “We'll come along too and help you find her!”

Meanwhile, Jin, trying to compose himself, acknowledges the chaos. “I wanna go, but I’ll stay here. Yoongi will be back later, so it’ll be suspicious if we’re all gone,” he says, his demeanor calm but resolute, a stabilizing force amid the growing turmoil. Namjoon’s gaze flickers briefly to Jin, silently thanking him for staying behind. He then nods appreciatively at John's offer, grateful for the immediate support. "Thanks, John. Let's go."

 He gestures for San and Soyoon to follow as well, her worried expression mirrors his own. As they make their way to the door, John grabs his jacket, his movements quick and purposeful.

The front door closes, leaving Jin alone with his own contemplations. The room, once filled with casual conversation and the glow of the TV now feels empty and eerily quiet.

He glances at his phone, pondering whether he should reach out to Yoongi. He knows Yoongi hates that man’s guts just as much as Namjoon, but he knows that you will be even more troubled if you see him as well. As he debates internally, Jin takes a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever repercussions may follow, hoping that Namjoon can find you and the other boys swiftly and ensure you don’t end up seeing him.

+++++++++++

After several drinks, you’ve gotten lost in the humongous crowd of people filling the backyard of this frat house. The last time you remember seeing Taehyung’s social butterfly ass was when he was striking up conversations with a couple of girls. His infectious laughter and charming boxy smile drew them towards him, and soon he was engaged in a friendly game of beer pong with a group jealous guys and trying to show off his skills and impressive aim to the girls. They loved it.

You believe Jungkook was dragged away by an excited Taehyun wanting to show him something inside the house, though you’re not sure if he’s back…and somewhere in this crowd.  

So that leaves you with Hoseok for a while, and when 4 Walls by F(X) starts playing, he nudges you into the middle of the crowd.

You dance with him for a bit, enjoying yourself as you attempt to follow along the movements he does. This ends with you awkwardly laughing at your own failure. You could never pop and lock, or whatever he did.  You’re just not that flexible at all or well-versed with dance moves that aren’t “The Robot”. But Hoseok is gentle when teaching you. Compared to how strict he is with his students during his dance class sessions, according to Jungkook.

Dancing with him was short-lived, as he tells you to stay put because he wants to enter the dance circle emerging from the middle of the crowd in front of the DJ. He might be the DD for the night, but he isn’t going to miss out on the fun while being sober.

You don’t want to be squished with drunk, sweaty bodies around you, so you end up next to the DJ booth, where the same girl is still spinning tracks and taking charge of the party’s setlist. Her effortless grace and commanding presence behind the turntables catch your attention, and you can't help but be intrigued by her.

"So, how did you get into DJing?" you ask, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the music. Usually, you’re not as courageous to start conversations with random people, but today, the alcohol in your system said otherwise.

The girl flashes you a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Well, I've always had a passion for music," she replies, adjusting a knob on the mixer with practiced ease. "Back in Japan, I used to DJ at small local events. When I came here for my exchange program, I jumped at the chance to share my love for music with a new audience."

You nod, impressed by her dedication and talent. "Oh wow! That's amazing. You're really good at it," you comment, nodding towards the crowd as they groove to the beat.

Her smile widens at the compliment, a hint of pride in her eyes. "Thanks! I love seeing people enjoy themselves on the dance floor, connected by the music."

As you continue chatting, you come to find out her name is Sakura, and is in the same year as you. Before you get the chance to tell her your name, your attention is suddenly drawn to the makeshift dance floor where Hoseok is engaged in a spirited dance battle with another party-goer. The two of them move with grace and precision, their movements synchronized to the pulsating rhythm of the music.

You watch in awe as Hoseok dazzles the crowd with his fluid dance moves, his energy infectious as he captivates everyone around him. The other dancer, who you couldn’t see well from your angle, seems to hold their own with impressive skill drawing impressed sounds from the people watching. The guy keeps matching Hoseok move for move while Summer Walker’s Dat Right There plays in the background. After they finish, two other guys are up and dancing to the next song on Sakura’s setlist.

Sakura follows your gaze as you watch Hoseok get mixed into the crowd once again, a smile playing on her lips. "Looks like your friend knows how to move," she remarks, her eyes twinkling with amusement. 

You nod in agreement, feeling a swell of pride over your friend getting complimented. “Yup! He’s won several dance competitions in the past.” You sip your blue cup. What even is the alcohol inside this cup? You think maybe you should stop drinking before you start to get the urge to puke. Though, when else can you go all out like this without their supervision?

“Competition!? Woah, that’s on a whole other level than Jun! He’s in the school’s dance team too.”

You want to continue your conversation with Sakura, but suddenly, you feel your vision spin. Shit, maybe you are at your limit. You used to be able to drink more, why are you so weak tonight? You try to hold onto the table for stability, which then catches Sakura’s attention.

 “Wait, hey…you okay?”

You quickly look up at her, and wave her off. “Uh, yeah! 100%. Just need some water.”

“There’s cases of bottled water in the kitchen, just head in through the back door. Think you can make it there? I would help, but I’m—”

You manage a weak smile, grateful for Sakura's concern. "Don’t worry! I'll do that. Thanks, Sakura," you reply, your voice sounding more slurred as you attempt to maintain your composure. With a determined nod, you push yourself away from the table, focusing on steadying your steps as you make your way toward the back door.

As you navigate through the throngs of bodies, you can feel the effects of the alcohol weighing heavily on your senses. The music seems louder now, the lights brighter, and the voices around you a chaotic blur. You press a hand to your temple, willing away the dizzy spell that threatens to overwhelm you.

The sudden shift in atmosphere hits you like a wave as you step inside the house. The air is thick with smoke, a potent mixture of cigarette and weed fumes that assault your senses. You cough slightly, your eyes watering as you try to adjust to the stifling environment. 

The dim lighting casts long shadows across the room, adding to the hazy ambiance. People are scattered throughout the space, lounging on couches, leaning against walls, and mingling in small groups. The music from outside pounds in your ears, reverberating through the walls and floor, making it difficult to think clearly. 

Making your way to the kitchen, you find the bottled water, grab one and twist off the cap, taking a long gulp of the refreshing liquid. The relief is short lived though, as you glance around, searching for a familiar face in the sea of strangers. Jungkook, Hoseok, and Taehyung are nowhere to be seen for some time. 

You feel a pang of unease at being separated from your friends at a random frat party, God knows where. You’re also passed the point of being tipsy. 

What school are you even at? Why didn’t you bother asking about it in the car earlier?

Maybe you should try finding Jungkook. Yeah, he should be inside somewhere. You didn’t see him come out earlier.

You walk to the living room to try to search for him amongst the lax bodies taking hits from bongs, but suddenly you hear your name called out.

“Y/N!”

Jungkook?

Wait, did that sound like Jungkook calling out to you? Maybe? Maybe not?

You’re drunk, but the voice sounds familiar, though. Who is that?

You turn around.

And when you do, you immediately regret it.

The familiar voice that you deemed to be Jungkook was not him, but it wasn’t completely unfamiliar to you at all. You used to hear this voice so often. A voice that would whisper sweet nothings to you in the late summer nights and would annoy the hell out of you with his comments.

It can’t be him, you think. You’re drunk! You’re just drunk, Y/N! Why would it be him, here, right now? As much as you tried to refute the appearance of that man before you, the image became clearer.

Choi Yeonjun.

Once you realize this, everything around you seizes movement. Soon, it feels like you stepped into a dream with how hazy everything has become. The atmosphere consumed with smoke from people smoking weed here is definitely not helping. 

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol running through your veins or your anxiety making the world spin once more, but there’s a curdling feeling in your stomach now.

Before you can even think, your legs start to move you back, very slowly. Away from the man who left you devastated and heartbroken not too long ago.

“Y-Yeon–”

“Y/N…” 

Fuck. It’s been almost two years and you still can’t fucking say his name. What’s wrong with you? You’re over him. Why are you somehow standing here in fear just from being in his presence?

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Me either.” That’s all you can mutter out? Wait. Is the “Jun” that Hoseok was dancing against earlier. Holy shit, this is all making sense. Of course you knew he went to a university close to you, but there’s thousands of students going there too. You would’ve never thought you’d just see fucking Yeonjun out of all people at a random ass frat party.

You wonder if he could sense the fear crawling through your skin, controlling your muscle movements. Your vision quivers twice as much as it should. Don’t make eye contact dammit.

Too late.

Despite your overwhelming urge to flee, you force yourself to stand your ground as Yeonjun approaches closer, his presence looming over you like a dark shadow. Every instinct screams at you to run, to go find the guys, to escape the memories that threaten to engulf you, but you swallow down your fear and brace yourself for what comes next.

"How have you been?" He asks, his voice soft yet filled with a tinge of uncertainty. 

You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, his eyes searching your face for any sign of softness. And perhaps weakness. Your heart pounds in your chest, your palms clammy with nerves as you struggle to find the right words to respond. You’re gonna puke at this rate and it’s going to be embarrassing.

"Good... uh, how are you?" you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. You can't bring yourself to meet his eyes, the fear of what you might see reflected in them too overwhelming to bear. Instead, you focus on a spot just over his shoulder, willing yourself to remain composed despite the turmoil raging inside you.

Yeonjun's response is brief, almost curt. "Good," he says, his voice devoid of any emotion.

There's a tense silence between you two. You can feel the weight of the past pressing down on you, threatening to suffocate you with its suffocating embrace. But still, you refuse to break, determined to weather the storm no matter what.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Yeonjun speaks again, his voice hesitant yet persistent on something. "Okay, look, I know it’s been awhile, but I noticed you talking to Sakura earlier and I thought it was fate that I saw you after so long. Can we talk?"

“Huh? What?” 

Now what’s this about? You’ve been through too much and having a conversation about whatever the fuck is on his mind is something you do not want to do tonight. Or ever. You guys have been done. You have no more tears left to cry. You know your heart lies elsewhere.

“I know things ended badly when I left you, but—”

You’re not sure if he’s apologizing after reflecting on the past some time ago or if he’s trying to get back together with you, but you cannot stomach this. You want to leave. He’s probably drunk anyways. If he sincerely feels either of the two ways, he would’ve come to find you earlier to tell while he’s sober.

“Yeonjun,” You sigh heavily as you interrupt him, giving him a stern expression to show that you’re serious, “I’m not feeling too great right now. I need to go find the guys.”

“The guys?” Yeonjun scoffs. “You’re still hanging around with them?”

“Who?”

“Namjoon, Yoongi and Jimin.”

What? You’re not even going to tell him that’s not who you’re here with, but now you have questions. There’s something he’s clearly insinuating here that he never told you when you two were dating. You wonder if it’s related to the reason why he ended things when you thought they were going so well. 

You want to keep edging him on until he spills.

“What’s wrong with that?” You raise your eyebrow, getting progressively more pissed off.

Yeonjun’s gaze hardens, his features contorting with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. “What’s wrong with that?” he echoes, his voice tinged with bitterness. “Can’t believe you’re still so dense after all this time.”

No, never mind. You’re not going to stand here and be degraded until you get a piece of a puzzle that doesn’t matter anymore.

“If you’re going to fucking insult me, then I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not leaving yet!” Yeonjun suddenly grabs your wrist, preventing you from leaving. His fingers dig into your skin with a painful intensity. You cringe for a moment. Panic courses through your veins as you struggle against his hold, desperate to break free from his grasp.

Before you could fight against his hold further, you turn to see a man, similar in height to Yeonjun, shoving him roughly against the nearest wall, his expression dark and menacing. This action makes Yeonjun let go as his hands are now elsewhere.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch the altercation unfold, fear and uncertainty swirling inside you like a raging storm. Who is this man?

Holy shit. 

Looking at him closely, the realization hits you like a ton of bricks—it's Namjoon.

Why is he here? How did he know you guys were here anyway?

"What the fuck is your problem grabbing her like that?" Namjoon's voice cuts through the chaos, his tone filled with anger and concern.

“Wait, Namjoon! Just stop. Let it go!”

Hoseok's voice breaks through the chaos, drawing your attention. He strides towards you, his eyes blazing with fury and worry. Taehyung and Jungkook follow closely behind, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. A crowd starts to form around them, even bringing in more people from outside after hearing the commotion.

Namjoon moves quickly, grabbing Yeonjun by the collar. “I don’t like violence, but you’ve really been pissing me off since that summer.” he growls, his voice dripping with menace.

Yeonjun staggers backward, out of Namjoon’s hold. Though his eyes remain wide with shock. He seems uncertain of what to do next, caught off guard by Namjoon's appearance and sudden aggression. His expression shifts from surprise to defiance, his jaw clenched with determination.

"Pissed off at me?" Yeonjun's voice is laced with poison, his eyes narrowing as he locks gazes with Namjoon. "I'm the one pissed off at you knowing she liked you this whole time and you never noticed a goddamn thing."

You remain frozen while hearing the words coming out of Yeonjun’s mouth. You liking Namjoon this whole time? Gears turn in your head. Did you never realize those feelings slip out of you? During the times you’d lovingly call Yeonjun, ‘Junnie’...did it feel so right because it was the same nickname Namjoon had? Yeonjun suddenly interjects with a sharp tone, "So you should stop acting up." 

The room falls into a momentary silence, punctuated only by the muffled thud as Yeonjun swiftly grabs a book from a nearby table and hits Namjoon's head with it. There's an audible gasp from the onlookers, some leaning forward in their spots to get a better view, while others recoil in shock at the unexpected turn of events.

Namjoon, caught off guard by the sudden blow, winces as the book makes contact with his head. He instinctively brings a hand up to rub the spot where he was struck, his expression a mixture of surprise and discomfort.

You, too, are taken aback by Yeonjun's action, your eyes widening as you and hoping they’ll just stop. 

Namjoon regains his posture and immediately goes back to gripping Yeonjun's collar, this time more tightly. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he retorts, his voice low and dangerous.

Yeonjun laughs, a bitter edge to the sound. "How thick is your skull? You can’t see how she’s looking at you, even now?” he sneers. "She's always been thinking of you all this time! Even when I was fucking her—"

Before Yeonjun can finish his sentence, Namjoon's fist connects with his jaw, the force of the blow sending him staggering backward once more. Yeonjun stumbles again, his balance thrown off by the unexpected attack and he falls to the floor.

The room erupts into chaos as people nearby shout and gasp in surprise. Namjoon steps forward, his expression dark and unreadable as he advances on Yeonjun, who raises his hands defensively.

"Namjoon, stop!" Your voice cuts through the tumult, your tone urgent as you rush forward to intervene. 

“Y/N, get away from them!” Jungkook runs towards you, trying to pull you away. Hoseok and Taehyung's faces are etched with concern as they rush to restrain Namjoon. Two other guys you recognize as Yeonjun’s close friends Soobin and Taehyun try to restrain Yeonjun as well. 

You run towards Namjoon and with a strong pull, manage to move him away and make him snap out of his sudden rage. When he looks down at your eyes, he notices you're slowly sobbing, frustrated.

He turns to look at Yeonjun, sitting on the ground as Soobin and Taehyun tend to his bloody nose as a result of the punch. 

As Namjoon's eyes meet yours, he registers the anguish reflected in your tear-filled gaze. The sight of your distress is like a bucket of cold water, jolting him out of his blind rage. Guilt washes over him as he realizes the impact his actions have had on you.

"Y/N," he murmurs, his voice thick with regret. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

But before he can finish his apology, you turn away, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Your heart feels heavy with a mixture of emotions—anger, frustration, and overwhelming sadness. You feel stupid in a way. What are you upset about? Is it because he fought and hurt Yeonjun? Is it because of the pact he had with Yoongi and Jimin? Is it because Yeonjun touched upon growing feelings you tried to repress?

Probably, it’s all of the above.

Namjoon reaches out to touch your arm, his expression pleading. "We need to talk."

Should you talk to Namjoon? You’re starting to sober up a bit after all that, so maybe you should come clean to him about everything that has happened not only in the last few weeks, but the last few months.

And perhaps, it’s time to put an end to your feelings or let yourself be consumed by them.

“Okay, fine, let’s go outside," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. You wipe your tears, calming your breathing to stop the sobs. Namjoon nods in agreement, his expression somber as he follows you through the crowd. 

+++++++++++ 

“Why are you here?” You look down impatiently at Namjoon, who is now sitting on the sidewalk outside of the Eta Psi house. 

John, Soyoon, and San stand outside, their expressions etched with concern as they searched for you earlier. Namjoon waves them away, urging them to retreat inside and grant you both some privacy. They comply reluctantly, casting worried glances over their shoulders as they leave. They didn’t witness the fight or Namjoon getting hit, but it is evident from the tear stains on your face and Namjoon's deflated demeanor that something bad happened. They will likely learn the details later from Jungkook, who will be sure to fill them in once they are indoors.

“What? Why are you here? At this party a few towns over, all alone?”

“I wasn't alone! I came here with Tae, Jungkook and Hoseok. But what the hell is wrong with you?” “What do you mean what the fuck is wrong with me? Yeonjun suddenly grabbed you. I was trying to protect you.”

“You didn’t need to protect me because I could’ve handled that! Way better than you, who started a fight!” you retort, your voice rising with anger.

Stunned, Namjoon huffs in disbelief, jaw working overtime. “You were standing there for a solid five minutes, hands shaking, and stuck in place!”

He saw that too? Shit. He’s right. You couldn’t even move, and once again it was just like the summer right before freshman year of college. Right when he broke up with you and the last time you ever faced him. You hate having to recall that day when it felt like all the love you poured into this human you cared for so dearly became dried up and nonexistent.

Not wanting to admit your faults and being in a partially drunk stupor, you let your cold nature take over.

“Who even asked you to do that?” you snap, your tone cold and defensive.

Namjoon only stares at you, unblinking and feeling the distance you suddenly put in between him. “Who asked me? Who–” he begins, but his words trail off.

This silence cuts through the night air. For once in your life, Namjoon cannot find the right words to articulate his thoughts. He suddenly looks flustered, debating what he should even say.

And in that second, your harsher features start to soften in realization. You regret your bitter question aimed at him and reflecting on your past trauma. Why did you have to say that? What the fuck is wrong with you?  You used to be more calm and collective for fucks sake. Who even are you anymore? 

Namjoon can be petty by nature too, though he’s never been like that toward you. 

“Says the same person who’s been in a fuck buddies deal with Yoongi and Jimin.”

Silence once again. Except now, it is accompanied by a light shower. It’s raining.

Your mind, however, is very loud right now. Screaming internally with millions of questions. More importantly: How the fuck did he find out? Did the other guys spill to him? Or did he know all along? Since when? 

“Joon, that’s just…it’s not…” Cat has your tongue now.

He chuckles bitterly, “Am I even mad? Nah, ‘mad’ doesn’t even cut it.” he mutters, his voice tinged with sadness. He looks down at his hands, now covered in droplets of rainwater, and sighs heavily. “I’ve been good at hiding it, but it’s been so fucking upsetting how stupid you three are for doing that. But how the fuck could I have confronted y’all?”

“Well if it weren’t for you making out with Jihyo at the party right in front my eyes, then this wouldn’t have happened. I just got so upset and ran off. Yoongi was only trying to comfort me, but I was the one who initiated everything. So if you’re going to hate someone, hate me.”

You may have lost Yoongi and Jimin, but the idea of Namjoon hating you and losing him hurts so much. But if you have to end things, might as well do it now.

So fucking much.

“No.” He mumbles.

“What?” “No.” Namjoon’s voice is much clearer, and definitive. He stares into your eyes, but before you can fully process his response, your own words spill out in a rush of guilt and self-loathing. 

“Uh I’ve been sleeping with our other two best friends, and even that won’t get you to hate me?” Tears blur your vision and you struggle to formulate a coherent discussion of every selfish thing you’ve done. “I feel like the shittiest person alive right now! Yoongi and I basically did that out of frustration against you and Jimin becoming distant and changing. Then Jimin ended things with Irene because he liked me all this time and then he got caught up with me and Yoongi and now we got into a fight and–”

“I’m never going to hate you, Y/N.” Namjoon interrupts, his voice steady and filled with unwavering conviction. “Because even if you did that shit, it’s clear as day to me why you did all of that. It’s because you’ve been in love with me all this time too.” His words hang in the air, a profound acknowledgment of the truth that lingers between you. 

There it is.

The thoughts you never wanted to address, not even to Yoongi on the night of the Gamma party.

Namjoon finally realized too. You hate to thank Yeonjun for making the dots connect in his mind.

“Well, congrats on opening Pandora’s box, because you’re right.” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Is he going to say something sassy, like ‘I’m always right!’? You wouldn’t even mind him shoving it in your face, because you deserve it after all. You got yourself into this mess.

Namjoon rises from the sidewalk and you find yourself enveloped in his warm embrace under the rain, his arms a comforting anchor amidst the turmoil of your emotions. In that moment, you realize that perhaps there’s still hope for the two of you, despite the mistakes and misunderstandings that have plagued your relationship. As you stand in Namjoon’s embrace, surrounded by the gentle patter of raindrops and the soft glow of streetlights, you find the courage to bare your soul to him.

“Namjoon,” you begin, your voice trembling with emotion, “Ever since we first became friends, I’ve felt something for you. It’s hard to put into words, but it’s always been there, just lingering beneath the surface.”

You pause, your thoughts drifting to the countless moments you’ve shared with him—the laughter, the tears, the late-night conversations that stretched into dawn about the most existential topics. From elementary until now. Each memory is etched into your heart, forming a tapestry of emotions that binds you to him in ways you never imagined possible.

“But it’s not just you,” you continue, your words spilling out in a rush of honesty. “Yoongi and Jimin, they’ve also carved out a place in my heart, each in their own way. It’s complex, messy, and kinda overwhelming.”

Your voice wavers as you confess the tangled web of emotions that have plagued you for so long. “But you, Namjoon…you’re the first love I never wanted to admit. I really wanted to take this to the grave if I could.”

Namjoon’s arms tighten around you, offering silent reassurance as you lay bare your deepest fears and desires. You already know how he feels, but him having the chance to hear you out probably eased every one of his own doubts and concerns.

As the rain continues to fall around you, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the scene, you feel a sense of serenity wash over you. The world around you fades into the background, leaving only you and Namjoon standing amidst the gentle rhythm of the rain.

With a newfound clarity, you tilt your head up to meet Namjoon's gaze, the air thick with anticipation. His eyes, dark pools of warmth and understanding, reflect the same emotions swirling within your own heart.

In this moment, there's no need for words. The unspoken longing between you hangs heavy in the air, a silent symphony of desire and yearning that binds you together.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, you reach up, your fingers tangling in the damp strands of Namjoon's hair. His breath catches in his throat as you draw him closer, your lips hovering just inches apart.

And then, with a surge of courage born from the depths of your heart, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his in a tender, tentative kiss.

The world seems to stand still as your lips meet, a symphony of emotions surrounding you, with a euphoric dizzying.You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol in your system doing that anymore. This is purely you in this moment suspended in time while the soft caress of your lips are against his.

For a heartbeat, you linger in the sweetness of the kiss, savoring the taste of rain and desire on his lips. And then, as if Namjoon becomes more confident in the moment, he deepens the kiss, your bodies moving in perfect harmony as you lose yourself in the intoxicating embrace of each other.

And this is where you realize, in the gentle patter of rain and the soft glow of streetlights, that this is where you belong—in Namjoon's arms, with his lips pressed against yours, in a world where love knows no bounds.

You pull away from the kiss, a soft giggle escapes your lips. The sound mingles with the gentle patter of raindrops around you. "I've wanted to do that for so long," you admit, a playful glint in your eyes. "Even when you were being annoying and scolding me at times, I thought it would've been better to shut you up with a kiss."

Namjoon's cheeks flush with a delicate shade of pink, his gaze shifting away shyly. "I...I wouldn't have minded," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. You love seeing this flustered side of him, and hope you can see more of it.

Before you can respond, the sound of wet footsteps interrupts the moment, and you turn to see John emerging from the house, followed closely by Soyoon, Jungkook, Hoseok, Taehyung, and San, who peer curiously from behind him.

"Are you lovebirds done over there?" John teases, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he gestures to you and Namjoon.

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words, feeling embarrassed that you were likely caught kissing Namjoon. Though, besides John’s question, no one else comments on the situation. "Um yeah, I think I wanna go back home," you say, your gaze shifting to Namjoon, who nods in agreement. "I wasn’t feeling good earlier, had too much to drink." "That’s why I told you to be careful!" Jungkook chimes in, scolding you jokingly as he tries to earn some brownie points from Namjoon for looking out for you. “You didn’t say anything!” You expose him, eliciting laughter from everyone present. Even amidst the lighthearted banter, your mind drifts back to Yeonjun, more or less because you’re worried about him taking legal action against Namjoon. “Wait, is Yeonjun…”

“Yeonjun’s going to be fine," Jungkook reassures, making you sigh in relief.  "Hueningkai and Beomgyu helped take him up to his room. He was pretty drunk, so we don’t think he’ll remember anything that happened tonight.”

Relief washes over you at Jungkook's reassurance about Yeonjun's well-being, the worry in your chest easing slightly. 

“Alright, I’ll take you and the others back,” John announces, motioning for you to follow him to his car parked across the street from the frat house.

As you approach the vehicle, you turn to Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook across the street. “Are you guys heading back too?”

Hoseok shakes his head with a smile. “Nah, we’ll stick around for a bit longer, make sure everything's all good here.”

“The night is still young for us, but go get some rest, Honey,” Taehyung says, gesturing for you to get in the car.

You give them a grateful smile, appreciating their willingness to stay behind and look out for any potential trouble.

With a final wave, you climb into John's car along with Namjoon, Soyoon, San, and John himself, ready to return back to campus. The engine revs to life, and soon you’re turning the street corner, leaving the chaos of the frat party behind you. As the streetlights flicker past, you lean back in your seat, feeling a sense of relief and contentment wash over you. 

+++++++++++

“I’ll help take Y/N inside and then walk back home,” Namjoon tells John as he shuts the door of his car. “Alright, just text me when you make it back. Have a good night, guys.” John waves, exiting the parking lot in front of Hwasa’s dorm and disappearing in the distance. He dropped off Soyoon and San at their dorms across campus, so he is just headed back to his off-campus apartment. Before you swipe Hwasa’s student ID to enter her dorm, you suddenly feel your stomach churn with nausea. Maybe it was the ride back that made you queasy, or the fact that the only contents in your stomach were alcohol. Without warning, the urge to vomit hits you like a tidal wave, and you bolt towards a nearby bush, clutching your stomach in distress. Namjoon's eyebrows furrow in concern as he watches you rush away. He quickly follows, his footsteps echoing against the pavement as he reaches your side. Without hesitation, he holds your hair up to prevent the puke from sticking to it accidently.

You continue to retch, emptying the contents of your stomach into the bush, Namjoon stays by your side, offering silent support and comfort. His reassuring presence helps to calm your racing heartbeat, grounding you amid your discomfort.

“I-I…really hate throwing up so much,” you admit between gasps, your voice trembling with embarrassment.

“I know,” Namjoon replies softly, his tone understanding. “You should’ve been more cautious.”

You nod weakly, acknowledging his words even as you struggle to regain your composure.

“I know that,” you murmur, pushing yourself upright and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “But I was upset...sad…needed something to take my mind off of the stuff with Yoongi and Jimin.” You swipe access and enter the building together.

“Yeah, how did all of that happen?”

“Well, it’s a long story…”

And you proceed to tell him everything that happened, from the night you first had sex with Yoongi all up until the fight that Jimin initiated at Friday Night Game Night two weeks ago. While you told him the story, you got changed, brushed your teeth, and drank some water to rehydrate you after the vomiting. He sat on your bed, watching you do each task and listening to you carefully. 

Once you’ve completed your routine, you join Namjoon on the bed, sinking into the soft mattress beside him.

“I think the answer is obvious, but we made that pact because we’ve been in love with you for a long time,” Namjoon begins, his voice soft as he gazes up at the twinkling string lights that adorn the room. “Sometime during junior year, we were at Yoongi’s house and just started talking about our feelings and didn’t know what to do.” He lays back against your pillows, sighing. “We didn’t want to ruin our friendship with you and we also didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Namjoon continues, his tone tinged with regret. “We didn’t think you’d like us back because you were occupied with other guys on your mind back then. So, at that time, we decided to agree that neither of us would pursue you and move on.”

“Except that Yoongi decided to say fuck it,” you interject with a wry smile, remembering the impulsive decision that changed everything.

Namjoon chuckles softly, shaking his head in amusement. “Yeah, we had tried to move on, though Yoongi probably couldn’t let you go, so he went for it. Can’t believe he did that, but I would’ve done the same if I were in his shoes.”

He turns to you, his expression earnest as he asks, "So, what are you going to do, Tiny? How are you planning to reconcile your friendship with them?"

You pause, feeling stress settle heavily on your shoulders once again. It’s a dilemma you’ve grappled with countless times, each solution more elusive than the last. "I still don't know," you admit, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "In an ideal world, I'd love to be with you and them, but is that even possible?"

Namjoon's eyes soften with understanding as he listens to your concerns. "That’s a thing, you know," he suggests tentatively. “It’s called being in a polycule together."

You gasp, the concept both surprising and intriguing. "A polycule?" you repeat, your mind racing with possibilities. "Do you think...could that really work?"

Namjoon nods thoughtfully, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity. "Maybe," he replies, his voice tinged with cautious optimism. "It's definitely something worth considering, but we'd all have to think about it more and talk it through together."

A polycule. You can’t deny how much you’d be down for the idea. The thought of being in a loving, supportive relationship with Namjoon, Jimin, and Yoongi is undeniably appealing. However, there are other things to consider, like the future of the relationship and how you could ever present this to your own families. No doubt your parents would get a heart attack. But maybe, you’d figure out how to make this work. You don’t have to publicly get married, maybe you could just frame it as being single forever with your other single best friends. It’d be like that article about the seven Chinese girlfriends buying a mansion to retire and die together. 

You move to straddle Namjoon’s lap excitedly, “I want to try that,” 

Namjoon's expression shifts from contemplative to surprised as you straddle his lap, the sudden change in proximity catching him off guard. He blinks, momentarily taken aback by your boldness, before a soft smile spreads across his lips.

You look at his beautiful deep brown dragon eyes, always so mesmerizing.Your heart flutters at the sight, reassured by the warmth in his gaze. You're acutely aware of the intimate closeness between you, the heat of his body seeping through the thin fabric of your clothes, igniting a flicker of desire deep within you.

For a moment, Namjoon doesn’t respond. He’s caught off guard, thinking about how cute you look being on top of him like this. When he doesn’t respond right away, you give him a puzzled look.

"You're only wearing underwear under your oversized Pokémon t-shirt?" He teases, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Huh?” Your cheeks redden, “Y-You could tell?”

“Yeah.” 

Your heart skips a beat as Namjoon's hand brushes against your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. His touch is gentle yet electrifying.

Before you can fully comprehend what's happening, Namjoon pulls you down, your lips meet his in a kiss full of need and desire.

As your lips meld together in a tender embrace, the kiss deepens, becoming more passionate and intense. You feel the gentle pressure of Namjoon's lips parting, inviting you into his mouth. With a soft whimper of desire, you accept the invitation, allowing your tongue to dance against his.

He starts undressing you, from your t-shirt to your panties, eager to finally have you after all this time. Once you’re naked, you pull yourself back up and let him bask in the view of you. He’s awestruck by the sight of your perky breasts.

He takes a moment to admire your curves, his eyes lingering on the way your rounded hips fit perfectly into your waist. He traces the line of your belly button with his fingertips, marveling at the way your skin feels under his touch.

You watch him, enjoying the way he looks at you, and suddenly you're desperate for more. You reach down and cupping his face, pulling his lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

Your fingers trail down his arms, tracing the muscles beneath his shirt, as his hands slide up your sides, grazing your ribs before moving up to cup your breasts. His touch feels divine, his fingers gently tugging at your nipples, sending shivers down your spine.

His lips travel down your neck, leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses as he goes. You can't help but moan softly, your head falling back in pleasure. He runs his tongue over the swell of your collarbone, and then moves downward, his lips leaving a hot, wet trail as he goes. He sucks gently on your nipples, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin.

You arch your back, enjoying the sensation of his mouth on your body. You feel his hands slide down your belly, the warmth of his fingers tracing circles on your skin. He kisses his way down your stomach, his lips leaving warm, wet kisses in a trail that leads to your hips.

You can feel the anticipation building up inside you. Your breath catches in your throat as he reaches the top of your thighs, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin. You're not sure what he's going to do next, and that's part of the thrill.

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with desire. He moves to remove his sweatpants, his shirt, and finally his boxer briefs.

You watch him, your eyes widening as he stands before you, completely naked. It's the first time you've seen him without clothes, and it's a sight that takes your breath away. He's been your best friend for so long, and now here he is, vulnerable and exposed in front of you.

His erection sticks up prominently, a testament to his arousal. He's bigger than you expected, and the sight of it makes your heart race and your breath catch in your throat.

Before you can think about it, you reach out and touch him, tentatively wrapping your fingers around his shaft. It feels warm and hard in your hand, and you can't help but marvel at how it's throbbing beneath your touch.

He moans softly, and you can tell that he's enjoying your touch. You run your thumb over the head of his penis, feeling the slit that moistens with pre-cum. It's an intimate moment, and you can’t believe this is the first time you’re able to touch him this way.

You stroke him gently, feeling his muscles tense and relax as you do. His hips move subtly, as though he's enjoying your touch. You're grateful for his trust in you, and for the connection that's brought you to this moment.

As you continue to stroke him, you feel his hand on your thigh, gently running his fingers up and down your leg. It's a small gesture, but it means the world to you. It's a sign that he's not only comfortable with where this is going, but that he's also enjoying himself.

He leans in close, his lips brushing against his ear. "I'm so glad we're doing this," he whispers. "I've wanted this for so long,

“And I'm so glad you're here with me."

You can't help but feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you. This wasn't just about having sex with Namjoon, but the long, slow burning affection you and Namjoon have likely had for one another. You nod, your cheeks flushed with a mix of arousal and affection.

He smiles warmly at you, his eyes filled with love and desire. "I know you're nervous, but don't worry," he reassures you. "We'll take it slow."

You nod, swallowing hard as you take a deep breath. This moment feels like something you've been dreaming about for years, and you're both nervous and excited all at once.

Namjoon's fingers trail up your inner thigh, and you can't help but moan softly as his touch sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. You reach down, and tentatively guide his hand towards your now soaked core, your legs parting slightly to allow him access.

He gently slides his fingers between your labia, feeling the dampness and heat that awaits him. You gasp as his fingers brush against your clitoris, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Is this okay?" He murmurs, his voice low and filled with concern. You nod, unable to speak past the desire now coursing through you. “Words, please baby girl.”

The nickname immediately catches you offguard but you don’t comment on it. Your horniness yet again clouding your ability to question things.

“Y-Yes!”

With this confirmation, his fingers slide inside you, two, then three, stretching you gently as he explores your depths. You can't help but moan loudly, your body arching into his touch.

"You feel so amazing inside," he whispers, his fingers moving in and out of you in a steady rhythm. You can't help but thrust your hips into his hand, desperate for more.

He leans down and kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his fingers continue to thrust inside of you. Your body is alive with sensation, every touch, every kiss, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through you.

As he continues to fuck you with his fingers, you can feel your orgasm building. It starts as a gentle tingle, then grows into a throbbing need that courses through your entire body.

"I'm going to come," you gasp, your voice shaking with desire. Namjoon grins, his eyes shining with need as he increases the pace of his fingers, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles.

"That's it, baby girl. Cum for me," he urges, his voice low and filled with lust.

Every thrust of his fingers and every circle of his thumb brings you closer to the edge, until finally, you can't take it anymore. The band unwinds and you start to squirm in place.

You lay there, breathing heavily, waiting for the high to go down. You feel somewhat embarassed that he just did this to you and saw you come. You can’t help but want him more of his touch. You want him inside you.

"Namjoon," you breathe, your voice rough with desire. "I want you to be inside me."

His eyes flash with desire, and he pulls his fingers out of you with a soft pop. He moves towards the bed, his erection leading the way.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice deep and filled with anticipation.

You nod, your heart racing as you watch him position himself at your entrance. You can feel his knees between your legs, and the heat of his body presses against yours.

"You can do it without the condom, I’m on BC." you whisper, your voice shaking with nerves and desire. “I-I’m ready.”

With one smooth motion, Namjoon pushes himself inside you. You gasp at the sensation. Holy fuck, he’s huge. Can you really fit him in you? You’ve never experienced someone this big. Namjoon senses your discomfort and is about to ask if he should stop, however, you wave him off.

“Please keep going, Joon.” Your body clenches around his erection as he continues, filling you completely to the brim.

"Fuck," he mutters, his eyes locked on yours. "This feels better than I imagined."

He places his hand right below your stomach, and you can see the switch in his demeanor become darker. He smirks at you. “I can even feel myself right here”

“H-Holy shit,” These are the only words you can let out as he starts to further dominate you.

“I’m going to start moving, okay baby?”

“Mhm.” Just nodding in agreement, you brace yourself for what is about to come. Namjoon's eyes never leave yours as he begins to move inside of you, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first before growing more forceful with each passing second. You cry out with each stroke, your nails digging into his back as he fills you completely.

Your hips start meeting his movements, your body craving the sensation of him inside of you. You moan loudly, your body arching into his touch.

His cock slides in and out of you, each thrust bringing a new wave of pleasure that leaves you breathless. You reach up, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continues to fuck you.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he growls, his voice filled with lust. "You're so tight."

As he plunges deeper into you, he leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue dances with yours, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucks you harder and faster. You don’t want it to end, but you can feel the building tension within you again, the waves of pleasure threatening to overflow.

Every thrust brings you closer to the edge, and you know that you're not far from coming again. You arch your back, your hips moving in time with his thrusts.

"I'm going to cum," you gasp, your voice shaking with need. Namjoon groans, his eyes locked.

"Then cum for me, baby girl," he growls, his voice deep and filled with lust. He thrusts harder and faster into you, his body bucking against yours as he drives himself deeper into you.

Every thrust of his hips sends another wave of pleasure coursing through you. Your body is alive with sensation, every touch, every kiss, every thrust sending you higher and higher.

You can feel your orgasm building, pulsing through your core, and you know that this time it will be even more intense than before. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alive with desire, and you can feel your climax reaching its peak.

"That's it," Namjoon mutters, his voice ragged with desire. "Cum for me, baby girl. Let me feel you come on my dick."

The words send you over the edge, and you scream his name as you come, your body convulsing around his dick.

"F-Fuck!" you scream, your voice echoing through the room. "Joonie!"

He feels your muscles clenching around him, and he knows that he can’t hold on much longer. He slams into you one last time, his own release building to a shuddering climax inside you.

"I'm cumming," he groans, his voice hoarse with passion. "Fuck, I'm cumming!"

As you both reach the peak of your orgasms, your bodies are shaking with the intensity of the pleasure. Breathing heavily. Sweating tremendously from the heat. Your nerves feel alive, and the overwhelming desire for him grows stronger. 

As the waves of aftershocks subsided, he pulls out of you gently, his cock glistening with your wetness. He breathes heavily, his eyes filled with laughter as he helps you clean up. It has been quite the experience, and you both know that this will probably become a regular part of your love life.

After cleaning up, he helps you into bed, spooning you from behind. You can feel that he was still hard under the sheets, and you giggle at his persistence.

"Joonie, you're still hard," you whisper, a smile on your face.

"I know, but I don't want to cum again just yet," he replies, his voice low and filled with desire. "I want to hold you like this for a while." He caresses your cheek gently.

You snuggle into his arms, your heart full of love for him. You drift off to sleep for a bit, before you wake up again wanting to do it again. This time, spending time pleasuring him. You suck his dick and deepthroat it, despite his worries. 

With this event, you know that your life will never be the same again. Namjoon has forever changed you, as well as Yoongi and Jimin and you couldn't be more grateful.

All that is left is figuring if you can make the polycule idea a reality.

Would it be insane if you’d try it? If you helped initiate the virginity race, then you could do this too. +++++++++++ [Extra POV]

Meanwhile, inside the house, chaos slowly dissipates as Soobin and Taehyun rush to tend to Yeonjun's bloody nose on the floor. Jungkook, guilt-ridden, is apologizing profusely for his friend's actions, his words tumbling out in a rush of remorse.

Beomgyu and Hueningkai, Yeonjun’s other close frat brothers, arrive on the scene. Beomgyu's laughter ringing through the air as he chides Yeonjun for his reckless behavior. 

"Man, you're lucky Namjoon didn't knock you into next week!" he jokes, though there's an edge of concern in his voice. “Can’t believe you thought it was fine to go up against a guy three times bigger than you!”

“Beomgyu, shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear it.” Yeonjun groans as he holds a crumpled tissue paper to his nose waiting for the bleeding to stop.

Hueningkai turns to Jungkook, Taehyung and Hoseok, sighing, "Guys, your friend Namjoon needs to get out of here soon before the cops decide to show up from the commotion," he says, his tone urgent.

Hoseok nods in agreement. "He'll be out soon," he assures them. “They’re outside talking it out. If they don’t wrap it up in 15 minutes, I’m dragging his ass to John’s car or Jungkook’s.” 

“Yoooo, what the hell happened?” Soyoon chimes in with John and San trailing behind her. She looks at the sight in the living room all confused.

“The guy on the floor is Honey’s ex and Namjoon fought him because he was being an ass.” Jungkook summarizes, make the three nod in understanding.

“God, can you all shut up and stop talking about–” Yeonjun winces in pain, making Soobin panic.

Taehyun, his patience wearing thin, scolds Yeonjun sternly. "Well, what did you think was going to happen?" he chastises. "Jungkook told me Namjoon is in the gym five times a week, and all you do is shotgun beers and chase tri delts."

Taehyung chuckles at the remark, unable to resist the humor in the situation. "Yeah, you might want to rethink your strategy next time, buddy," he quips, though there's an underlying seriousness to his tone.

“I wanted to be friends with Y/N again.” Yeonjun slurs, his lips pouting out. “Can I have another drink?”

“But you see where that got you!” Soobin intervenes. "And no!” He firmly denies Yeonjun's request for another drink. "You've had enough drinks for one night, Jjun.” 

Yeonjun grumbles in protest, but Soobin's resolve is unwavering. With a supportive arm, he helps Yeonjun stand up, steadying him as they both rise. "I think you should go to bed," Soobin suggests softly, his tone gentle yet firm. "We'll handle slowly dispersing people out and tell them to go to another party."

Yeonjun nods. Beomgyu and Hueningkai step forward to offer their assistance. Beomgyu slings an arm around Yeonjun's shoulders, offering him a supportive grip, while Hueningkai moves to steady him from the other side.

"Let's get you to bed, man," Beomgyu says with a sympathetic smile, his tone reassuring.

Yeonjun leans on them for support, grateful for their presence as they navigate through the crowd. 

But as he stumbled along with his friends' support, Yeonjun couldn't ignore the nagging feeling of regret gnawing at him. Maybe he shouldn't have been so hostile, towards you or Namjoon. It wasn't fair to you at all. It wasn’t why he wanted to talk to you anyways

He couldn't shake the guilt that washed over him as he thought about your past together. He'd acted out of jealousy and hurt, hoping to reclaim a piece of something that was long gone. But now, faced with the consequences of his actions, he realized how foolish he'd been.

With this, he’s closing the door forever.

All he wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep off the alcohol-induced haze.

-

-

-

tbc !!!!! :D

a/n: 3 MORE CHAPTERS LEFT. we are getting closer and closer to the eventual polycule we might get... or not. this was probably the most exciting chapter to write because it was planned since LAST AUGUST. literally before any chapter of this series dropped. rae and i had been plotting the yeonjun v. namjoon fight since then and ironically yeonjun was in apartment 404 and filmed a fight scene. so thank me for manifesting yeonjun fighting lmao. it took me a little over a month to write because i had job interviews and rae was busy with life/school to edit as well so apologies on the delay, but it is here now. i will try to work on ch 10 and make sure it doesn't take to long, but i have to be job searching so it might take some time again. the goal is to finish this series before the anniversary in late august so we will see. would love to hear y'alls thoughts or theories on what will happen to our favorite quad and the rest of the house next chapter. thank you all for reading!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist! ➸ love u lately series masterlist

#bts #love u lately #bts smut #yoonminjoon #bts fic #namjoon x reader #bangtan #lul #lul masterlist #love u lately masterlist #yoongi x reader #jimin x reader #yeonjun x reader #fanfic #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #namjoon smut #jimin smut #yoongi smut #bts x reader #lul9 #kim namjoon #park jimin #choi yeonjun #min yoongi

[ihrtnjm]

Every Summertime - Park Jisung

Synopsis: You and Jisung's relationship blossoming over time -- from dating to marriage. Based on: “Every Summertime” by NIKI Pairing: Park Jisung (NCT) and fem!reader Genre: straight up fluff!!!!, uni!au, dating to marriage, relationship progression Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: use of she/her pronouns, cursing, mentions of weird coworkers, reader is shorter than jisung, reader eats a strawberry  Content: pet names (hun, honey, babe), second person pov, idols as friends, just two cuties <3, jisung is a dance major, if marrying jisung weirds you out pls leave… a/n: this is my first y/n fic EVERRR <333333 a lot of the locations are vague, so it’s up to reader interpretation! pls reblog, comment and send feedback! support is very much appreciated!!!!! jisung has been on my mind lately (probs bc i’m learning his part for candy) like he’s so boyfriend shaped how can u not love him!!!!!!!!!!

｡ﾟ❁ུ۪ °ₒ 𓂂 ˚ 𓂂 ₒ ° ₒ 𓂂 ˚˖⋆

Park, 5:32 AM

18, We were undergrads, 

Stayed out late, never made it to class

Jisung looks out at the sunrise and over to you. There’s no one else he would rather be with at this moment. Being with you makes him forget every worry on his mind. He admires the twinkle in your eyes, as the glow of the sunrise bathes you. As they sit out by the lake, he fumbles with the promise ring in his pocket. 

“Ji, you good?” you ask, trying to peek over at what he was hiding with curiosity in your voice.

“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing.” Jisung quickly takes his hand out of his jacket pocket. You’ve been out for a while now, but he doesn’t care if he comes back home and skips practice. He can make it up later. 

But with you, he doesn’t waste a single minute.

“You don’t have class later?” Jisung asks – he doesn’t plan on going to class later that day, but worries that you won’t make it. 

“I do,” you sigh, “but I don’t think I’ll go. I just wanna be with you.” you reply softly, leaning your head onto his shoulders, as you both take in the sunrise. You loved everything about Jisung -- the way he danced, the way he would buy her something because it reminded him of you, the way he stops and waits as you tie your shoelaces, every little thing he does. 

Jisung turns his head and kisses your forehead, then resumes to look onto the sunrise.

----

Dance Studio, 7:43 PM

And I swear the magnolias flashed a smile (flashed a smile)

And that's when I caught me hoping you'd stay a while (stay a while)

Jisung moves around the studio freely, with sharp yet somehow smooth movement. As he cleanly dances throughout the studio, you admire his talent from the walls in the studio. Seeing his facial expressions while he passionately dances his heart out, you can’t help but feel your heart glow.  

Here she is, admiring the love of her life as he does the thing that he loves. From every recital to late night rehearsal, she loves him all the same. You remember when you two started dating – when he asked if you wanted to watch one of his recitals. He was endearingly nervous, hands clammy and heart beating at a thousand miles per hour. When you had said ‘yes,’ it was like the largest weight was lifted from his body. Since then, you’ve seen him grow into one of the most talented dancers you’ve seen.

“This dance is coming along really nicely, hun.” you state, standing up and walking toward him. You wrap your arms around his torso, then nuzzle your face into his chest. Jisung smiles down at you, hugging you back. 

“Thanks. I think I still need to practice a couple more times, but I like where I’m at.” he replies breathlessly, taking a moment to grab his water bottle and take a swig. After putting it on the ground, he continues to hug you.

“Well as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” you smile, looking up at him with pride. Jisung hasn’t stopped smiling, bringing your lips together while smiling into the kiss.

At that moment, you knew you wanted to marry this man.

----

Mark’s Apartment, 9:30 PM

Baby, I'd give up anything to travel inside your mind

Baby, I fall in love again come every summertime

“Dude, when are you gonna propose? You two have definitely talked about it, and it doesn’t help that you’re always with her--” Jisung tunes Chenle out as he rambles on about your relationship. Instead, he looks over at you while you talk to Ningning. He doesn’t know what you guys are talking about, but as he looks at her he admires the passion in your eyes about whatever you’re saying. 

Jisung has seen your passionate eyes up close -- and God does he love them. In late night rants, discussions on class readings, and how dogs should wear pants. 

Meanwhile, you’re having a similar discussion with Ningning right across the room.

“Wait -- so Jisung hasn’t asked you?!” Ningning says with shock. Ningning has known you two for a while and shares the same sentiment as Chenle – but probably wouldn’t nag you the same way Chenle does.

“No Ningning, he hasn’t,” you deadpan, “But I don’t wanna force him into anything he doesn’t wanna do, y’know? He just seems so happy with where we are, and I don’t wanna make things weird--” 

“Make things weird? Tell that to the guy who’s staring at you as if he’s about to pop the question right now.” Ningning remarks, noticing Jisung stare at the two of you. She’s right -- Jisung hasn’t stopped at all – all while Chenle nags at him. 

“You should probably talk to him,” Ningning whispers into your ear, a grin on her face.

----

Park, 5:15 PM

25, man we're missing church

Laugh 'bout everyone we're hating at work

You and Jisung are in front of the lake yet again — but the only thing that has changed was time. Older, out of college, engagement rings on your fingers. Jisung sits while you lie your head on his lap. 

“Babe, I’m telling you this man is so weird. He treats the female coworkers as if they’re goddesses – mind you there’s a difference when a woman does it – and acts all lowly and shit!” you joke, taking a strawberry from the basket into your mouth. “It doesn’t help that when they say no to him, he acts like gave his soul to these women and acts pissed.” Jisung smiles down at you, taking a hand and brushing off loose hairs from your face. 

“Isn’t HR doing anything about it? This sounds like a problem that a lot of people have…” Jisung ponders, his hand traveling between your brows and smoothing out the wrinkles. 

“I don’t know, it’s not like he’s hurting anyone I guess,” you reply, “He’s just weird, y’know?”

“Alright but if he ever bothers you, you know who to go to!” he emphasizes, chest puffed up as if to come off as intimidating. You giggle at his gesture, sitting up and then holding his face in your hands.

“You’re so cute, did you know that?” you smile. He’s left flustered, as he takes his larger hands and puts them on top of yours. Jisung leans in closer to you, lips softly touching as he gets a taste of the strawberry that was on your lips earlier.

“Yeah, but you’re cuter.”

“Fine, but you’re the cutest.” 

----

Outside of Your Apartment, 10:30 PM

We're strolling down the boulevard

And dancing under streetlights 

Every year we get older, and I'm still on your side 

“Jisung, we’re gonna fall!” you laugh as you both stumble around the street, one Airpod in each other’s ears. A typical ballroom song plays in each of your earbuds while you adjust yourselves, figuring out how to dance to the music.

“Honey, just follow my lead,” Jisung giggles, “Mind you, you’re the one who wanted to learn!” Taking your hands in his, you sway around the street as the post lights shine. 

“Mind you, you’re the one with the dance degree!” you retaliate, looking down at your feet to avoid stepping on Jisung. 

“Mind you, you’re the one who’s married to me!” 

“You got me there.” you whisper, moving your arms to wrap around Jisung’s neck. Jisung’s hands then land on your hips, and softly pressing your lips together. 

As you admire the summertime moonlight, you both sway to the song that plays in your ears. 

Every day is summertime

Every day is summertime with you

#park jisung #nct jisung #park jisung x reader #jisung x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct oneshot #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines

[asteroidzzzn]

stargirl | part 4

pairing: leadsinger!ellie x bassist!reader

warnings: cursing, smoking, drinking, eventual sexual themes, ellies still closed off, reader is ridiculously delulu for a while, kinda angst im so sorry

songs in this chapter: do i wanna know - arctic monkeys

word count: 2.1k

a/n: i put my whole asterussy into this. also changed the pairing thing bc reader made a bit of a career change

summary: now that you're officially a the fireflies bassist, you're going on tour, where trouble will be looking for you.

it all arrived sooner than you thought it would. sooner than you were prepared for. you were told you were given twenty five to thirty minutes to get up on stage, sing some songs, and leave. you had good songs prepared, and you would practice all night in the hotel room before you performed.

seemed simple enough, right?

it was only a stadium nearly sold out by ten thousand people, maybe even more. and worst of all, you would have to sing. you had wished there was a contract you signed after joining the band, saying there was no way in hell you would sing in front of an audience, let alone a song you wrote.

but your mouth failed you when ellie asked you to be the one to sing the duet with her. yes was the only answer you could manage. for some reason, you felt a bit more at ease when you noticed the flash of a smile on her face your words caused.

you were getting used to ellie. you knew nothing about her past, but to be fair, she knew nothing about yours. it was surface level for the most part, except for...

you couldn't stop thinking about the journal. her songs. the trust she must have had in you. the lyrics. it made your head spin when you lingered on the memory. her masked grins, the blush hidden under her freckled cheeks, the way she sounded when she laughed gently, and how you had thought about bottling it up and selfishly keeping it just to yourself.

the way you had learned so much in that one night, yet so little. there were embarrassing instances where you would upset ellie by doing something so ordinary, such as complimenting her tattoo, and asking who did it. dina would pull you aside, muttering that "it's not about you, she's just having a bad day."

she never brought up the night when you shared your songs with each other. by the next morning, it was back to the tolerating sort of distance that was safe enough and never changing.

she treated you like a coworker.

༊*·˚

you were in the car, headphones in your ears playing a calming melody while you were half asleep. jesse rested with one hand on the wheel as dina curled up in the passenger seat, trying to get some sleep as well. ellie tapped a rhythm on her thighs and whistled a soft tune.

you yawned quietly and shifted around, pulling your blanket higher up to your neck. you made sure to keep distance between you and ellie. back in june, you found out the hard way that ellie didn't quite appreciate physical touch as much as the average person.

she mumbled something you didn't understand with your headphones in. apparently, the blanket had shifted off her lap when you tugged it towards yourself on the other side of the car.

her hand ghosted over your neck, leading up to your ear, sending harsh chills down your spine. your gaze shot to hers when she pulled one of the buds out of your year, and leaned closer to your face to whisper.

"don't steal the blanket, it's freezing."

you scoffed and paused your music. "is that really what you woke me up to say?"

"well, yeah. do you want me to die of hypothermia?"

"you'll live. and i'm not stealing it, because it's mine," you said, turning your head away to face the car door.

"oh, that's my bad. i thought it was your little sisters or something. cause, y'know," she said under her breath, but you caught it.

"i'll have you know, people of any age can own a disney blanket."

"whatever you say, princess."

your eyes widened against the blanket. you attempted to level your voice.

"saying shit like that will have you dying of hypothermia," you teased back over your shoulder.

"wait, no, actually. i'm really cold," she huffed out air in amusement, and promptly shivered.

you let out a heavy sigh. "okay, fine," you adjusted to sit in the middle seat, avoiding looking at her entirely as your thighs pressed together, but she didn't seem phased.

your head fell back against the headrest. you watched the stars fly by through the sunroof until sleep found you once more.

about an hour later, the car hit a bump. immediately after, jesse hissed, throwing a hushed, "sorry, guys!" towards the backseat.

your heads flew forward. you winced at the harsh awakening and glanced to your right. ellie had twisted to have her torso leaning on yours, as her head rested on your shoulder.

your breath hitched. she woke up quickly and pressed her hands on the seat to sit up, distancing herself from you.

you opened your mouth. an apology, maybe? your mouth closed. your gaze remained on ellie's. her expression was unreadable, but you could tell she was exhausted.

her voice was smaller than you had ever heard it when she finally spoke up.

"...just...for..."

you barely registered her breaths as words. her touch was light. she settled back into the position with her head on your shoulder.

you didn't dare say a word.

༊*·˚

you checked into the hotel at four in the morning, the next day. you were barely conscious of what you were doing, where you were going. dina handled the logistics, as she was the only one who had gotten enough sleep to be functioning at the early hour.

you trudged into the room. it was beautiful and spacious. two large beds were lined up on the left wall, a sliding glass door that led to a balcony with chairs and plants, a coffee table, a television, two closets, and a bathroom, with a shower and a bathtub.

while hauling your belongings onto the first bed you saw, dina explained that she and jesse would leave the door between the neighboring rooms unlocked in case you or ellie needed anything.

if it weren't four in the morning, you would have come up with a quick excuse to switch rooms. to not be stuck with ellie for a week straight, sleeping just a few feet apart.

unfortunatly for you, you nodded and let her slip away. the door clicked shut.

sheets rustling behind you and crickets chirping were the only two noises to be heard. you saw ellie had slung her suitcase on the bed and begun unpacking her clothing to fold them into her bedside drawer.

if it weren't four in the morning, you would have made a quip at her, something along the lines of, "you don't look like someone that folds their clothes so neatly."

there were a lot of things you would have done differently if it weren't four in the morning.

you stole a glance at her, that lasted a moment too long. she caught your eyes, and stared back. you said nothing. a silent agreement, that the events of this night, as well, would be left to be forgotten. never mentioned again. a secret. your secret.

it was a sudden, uncharacteristically timid habit you and ellie found yourselves doing.

glimpses hidden. the pointless acts of kindness, because one of you happened to remember a small detail. just by chance. nervous hands stilled by another pair. and there was nothing more. it meant nothing, you would tell yourself. there were just two hands searching for warmth, finding each other under tables, out of view.

there weren't jokes between the two of you. teases that could be interpreted in a way that meant things were real.

maybe this was just an act of convenience. maybe she did this with anderson, too. maybe you weren't all that special, or all that different.

but you couldn't deny the way she made you feel. so special, and so noticed.

on friday night, the four of you were huddled on the floor.

"you good, man?" jesse nudged you with his bottle, and took a swig. he passed it back to you.

you nodded with your eyes screwed shut due to the taste of the alcohol. you swallowed.

"i'm nervous. i haven't sung in so long, and i've never been in front of an audience this big. i'm terrified, actually," you said, your head beginning to buzz. your hand raised for you to take a large sip, but ellie caught your arm.

"hey, easy up on that. can't be hungover on stage."

"don't act like you care that much," you said, a pent-up hint of rage in your voice. you were angry at her. you were angry at her for being able to be so kind sometimes, yet so distant and strange, and everything else without a single explanation. but you needed to stop. before the alcohol urged you to say things that were meant to be unsaid. ellie's tongue poked her cheek as her eyebrows furrowed.

she ignored your comment. "we should practice the bridge of do i wanna know."

"i just need to get some sleep," you mumbled, pushing against the floor to stand up, but she dragged you right back down by your shirt. her tone became stern.

"we're practising. i won't let you get up there and embarrass me tomorrow. you said you were ready for this, so act like it," she emphasized her words with points directly at your chest.

"fine," you spat, digging into the pile of sheets scattered around for the song. ellie plugged in her guitar, and flipped a few switches.

"what are you doing?"

"i said we're practicing, so i'm making sure the guitar actually makes noise. for the song. songs kind of need music, if you didn't know. fuck else would i be doing, smartass? you always this insufferable when you're drunk?"

"i'm not drunk." you had to bite back a meaner response. in your peripheral, dina and jesse shared confused looks.

dina patted jesse's leg. "hey, we're pretty tired, and i think we've done enough preparing for tonight. see you guys in the morning," she gestured for jesse to stand up as well, who said a quick goodbye.

and shut the door.

"ready?" ellie glanced at you through her eyebrows.

you nodded, and she tapped her guitar, muttering five, six, seven, eight.

she was nearly whispering the lyrics. you inaudibly cleared your throat, and began to sing. you echoed along in a breathy, light tone when the song called for it, although most of the song flowed as a conversation between you and ellie.

it ended as quickly as it started, with one final strum, followed by silence. ellie set the guitar on the floor, and set her hands in the now empty space in her lap. her mouth opened hesitantly.

"that wasn't bad—"

"i'm heading to bed—"

the two of you spoke simultaneously. you stood up in a rush. you stared at her for a moment, then turned into the bathroom. you cleaned up and changed into your pyjamas.

you stared at the ceiling. your eyes found ellie, who was settling into bed herself. her body was turned away from you.

"...i'm sorry," you whispered.

ellie's head turned over her shoulder.

"why?"

"for being a bitch."

she snickered at that, and shifted so you both lay on your sides, facing each other from opposite sides of the room. she remained quiet, which urged you to go on.

"i'm terrified, ellie. i shouldn't have taken my fear out on you. you're right. i did say i was ready for this. but it's still...difficult. i don't want to disappoint you guys," you whispered as low as possible, with a sliver of a tremble in your voice.

her gaze softened. a minute passed. your ears rang from the silence. since you didn't have anything more to tell her, and she seemed to have no response, you flipped to face the dark wall, and shut your eyes. a tear slipped through your eyelashes. you made no attempt to rub it from your cheek. or the rest of the tears that began dropping, for that matter.

"goodnight," you said.

the opposite bed creaked. the wood under your own creaked. you felt her body beside you. she wouldn't touch you, she only laid there. maybe she waited for you to say it was okay. you moved to rest on your back, with your face near hers.

your eyes fell on each feature on her face. studying her. searching for something.

"goodnight," she whispered, inching dangerously closer to you.

you held your breath. you felt her own on your nose.

"tell me to leave, and i will."

"no," you shook your head weakly.

you grabbed her hand and flipped to face away from her. you placed her arm around your waist, and settled into her hold. her face nestled into your neck.

you took a deep breath, and fell asleep.

in the morning, you woke up not beside ellie, but an imprint on the mattress.

a/n: bleeeeh :p xD ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ i promise this does have a happy ending it will get there eventually i just needed some angst 🙏

taglist: @ximtiredx @gold-dustwomxn @elliesinterlude

also ill just tag some people that have commented on any of the earlier parts, so comment if u guys wanna be on the permanent taglist! :3

tags: @cassharass @lunarpretty @emluvselandabs @inf3ct3dd

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #tlou game #the last of us #tlou 2 #wlw #band au #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fanfic #rockstar!ellie

[bruciemilf]

I really love your Bruce writing! I love when you talk about him being a father and how tragic it is ("tears of the father are wept by the son"?? Are you kidding me?? This line made me lay awake at night). And the most recent Bryce snippet? Wow! I love how you use the environment (like the knockoff cigars, oregano...), and how you write their dialogue, and when you write Bruce's uncle's??? Wow, I'm just in love 💕

Saw you recently posting about atsv! Didn't know you watched it! Was wondering if you have an Miguel-centric Headcanons? That's another man I'm unhealthy about

Thank you so much 💞

– @unfortunately-obsessed

THANK YOU!! to this day it’s pretty incomprehensible for me, when I realize, huh… People like my writing? My words? Oh wow oh wow ohwowowowow—

I appreciate you saying so!! Sadly, I severely neglected my blog/fanfics because of my job, but, I started working on a crossover fic between atsv and dc :) I just adore spider bat, so why not?

Also, some Miguel headcanons:

Layla sends Gabriel videos of Miguel falling, tripping, web breaking, etc, just flopping in general. If he annoyed her particularly hard, she’ll send some to Miles

SPEAKING OF MILES??

He picks him up from school when Rio and Jeff can’t make it, mostly for spider business, and the staff assumed they were related bc Miles called him Tio (WHICH IS SO CUTE BTW)

Whenever Miles needs a permission slip for places he knows for a FACT his parents won’t sign —

(because it’s outside New York, — and I actually think it’s super adorable they wanna be around him so much. Ik some see it as overbearing, but when you see so many parents actively hate their kids being around..)

He’ll get Miguel to sign it. But he’s equally as protective as Rio. “Who are you going with, Who’s that? I never met them. Address, phone number, and mother’s maiden name. When are you gonna be back? 2 days? No. “

He eventually signs it because Miles’ puppy eyes, man.

Still celebrated Gabriella’s birthday; He makes her her favorite dessert, buys something she would’ve liked, and lights up a candle for dinner. If he feels particularly alone, he’ll swallow up his hesitation and invite the spider kids over

This man breaths and bleeds work; You can’t think abt your mental illness if you can’t think about anything at all!!!

Obsessed with control; He needs to know every detail, every amount of information available, he has routines and scripts and gets irritated if they’re not followed

I think he actually did pay attention to Miles since he became Spiderman; I think, deep down, he knows HES the original anomaly. But it’s easier to break than fix. Especially when canon is involved.

Can dance like a mf

I know he technically has no favorites since everyone annoys him equally- it’s Mayday.

And Miles, strangely enough. But it’s hard to tell. Miles genuinely thinks this grown ass adult hates his absolute guts and made peace

But Gwen is like omg you asked for a shift change and he didn’t throw a drone at you?

#that’s all I have for now!!! granted I am Thinking abt him and Bruce/bryce #spiderman atsv #asks #miguel o'hara #miles morales #text #text post

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

i am a SUCKER for Dad Joel. was thinking maybe a pre pandemic story where reader and joel are trying for another child but cant so they adopt ellie (bc let's face it sarah and ellie would have ruled the world together)

*absolutly love your work babes 💕*

Thank you so much, darling! I'm glad you've been enjoying it. I did just melt my own heart writing this. 🤍🥺😭

I feel like it would be solid two years after the wedding. You had started trying even way before that but it never worked. No matter what you tried and trust me on it you two tried everything. Joel spent his breaks flipping through different magazines and books looking for any new ideas on how to get pregnant. But nothing happened no matter the acrobatics you two get on to. Money was tight as it was so getting through IVF or even getting you both properly tested for now was out of the picture. So you had given up on the idea of having your kids.

Joel could tell that it had started to weigh on you even if you tried to hide it and smiled through it. The smile was fake, Joel knew it. He had heard you crying for weeks at night. Alone in the bathroom. Thinking that Joel was asleep and you were safe to let your guard down. But he heard it all. You soul-crushing sobs, that even an open tap couldn't muffle out. He had wanted to bring it up multiple times but somehow he felt that it would only make it worse.

"Is everything okay with mom?", Sarah had asked him one morning when you didn't come downstairs for breakfast. Joel stiffened for a moment, "Of course hun. Why are ya asking?". Sarah's eyes were on the plate. She was old enough to understand when things weren't okay back at home. She also had grown up with you by her side so she knew you. "I just... Do you know that mom's been crying a lot lately?", Sarah didn't dare to meet her father's gaze and Joel in a way was thankful because he knew that the look on his daughter's face would have broken him. With a sigh, he pushed the skillet away from the heat.

"You know... We've been trying to get you a sibling", Joel said while pulling out a chair, Sarah instantly looked up with that hopeful gleam and Joel had to clench his jaw tightly, "But I'm afraid we won't be able to".

Sarah shook her head, "Why?", "We don't know. The doctor thinks there might be something wrong..."

A part of Joel felt weird explaining it to Sarah but they were so close. You all had been. You all talked about anything and everything, there were few to no topics that you all haven't discussed together. "But...", Sarah trailed off, "Mom will be okay?" Joel wished he knew an answer to that. The truth was he didn't. He wished he could make it better. Help you fulfill the desire of becoming a mother. "We just need to give her a lot more love now. Show her how much we appreciate her", Joel ran his fingers through Sarah's hair, as she bit her lip, "Can we make her breakfast in bed?", she suggested and Joel couldn't help a smile that spread across his lips. He knew that you two had done a wonderful job raising Sarah, "We sure can, baby girl".

They had done just that for the next couple of months. Joel had found a way to take a couple of days off. Taking his little family on a little road trip. As you all went on a hike, camping by the lakeside, enjoying the peace and quiet. Yet the biggest gift to Joel was seeing a smile on your face once again. A smile that reached your eye as you and Sarah sat in a flower field making flower crowns. Crowns that Joel happily wore as you both giggled away.

Sarah found you sat by the kitchen counter, biting your lip nervously as you looked through a pile of papers spread across the counter. "What are you doing?", her voice made you jump slightly as you turned to her. Shaking your head slightly, "Come look at this", you moved slightly, making space for her. Sarah frowned slightly not understanding what she was looking at. "Adoption options", you said to her quietly, "They send over a couple of matches for our family". Sarah scanned over the pictures splattered around. Taking a hold of the only baby picture there. Ellie the name tag read. Sarah turned to you, "She just got placed in the adoption facility. Her mother died while giving birth to her", you muttered. "Are we going to meet her?", your daughter's question took you by surprise slightly, "Would you want to?", Sarah nodded her head in agreement. "We'll talk it through with your dad then".

You were rubbing your hands together nervously as you drove to the adoption center. Joel was quick to place a hand on your thigh, slowly stroking your skin. "Breathe, gorgeous", he said softly, "What if she hates us?", you muttered, turning to him slightly, "Love, she's just over five months", "Yes, but she could still hate us. Hate me". Sarah reached out her hand towards the front seat, placing her hand onto your shoulder, "Mom, you are the best. I doubt there's a single soul who hates you". Joel hummed in response, "I agree with our mushroom over here", Sarah gasped, "Out of all the nicknames...", "You prefer fishy better?", Joel teased, making Sarah cross her arms over her chest as she sat back, "I will turn my sister against you and then we'll see who will be a mushroom", she said, making your heart skip a beat that she was already referring to her as a sister.

The time spent in a hallway felt like a lifetime. You managed to sit for the first five minutes but then your nerves got the best of you so you opted to passing the corridor. Sarah was invested in all the little cards and buckles on the table. Joel stood beside you. Arms wrapped around you as he occasionally pressed a kiss or two to your shoulders or neck. In hopes of making some of the nerves melt away. To remind you that you were in this together. That he was here. Like he have always been. And no matter what happened you three were going to get through it.

"The Millers?", a lady called out making you spin towards her in an instant, "Nice to meet you, I'll be supervising you today". She went on to explain how everything usually worked around here. The number of times you would have to come by and see Ellie before they would issue a statement allowing you to adopt the girl if that ended up being your final destination. But you barely heard any of it. Thankful for Joel who kept the conversation going, noting the most important things. Light cries filled the room as you four stepped inside, the desire to soothe the babe instantly blossomed inside you.

You stepped closer to the crib, "She's fussy today, so don't let it set you off", the lady said moving to reach for her but you quickly cut in, "Could I?". The woman only smiled, allowing you to carefully pick the fussy little girl up, as you held her closer to your chest. "Hi, baby girl. I know, I know that it's so scary", you cooed at her, brushing your thumb over her flushed cheek, "But I've got you, sweetie". Ellie's cries died down almost in an instant, her big eyes now staring up at you. You rocked her gently in your arms, smiling at her softly.

Sarah stepped closer to you, moving to look at the bundled-up baby. She took the backpack from her shoulders, reaching in to pull out a tiny dinosaur. She looked up as if asking for permission to also approach her. You moved down to sit on the chair that stood by the crib, allowing Sarah to see Ellie better. She wiggled the stuffy in front of the baby, making different sounds that eventually had Ellie flashing a gummy smile at her.

Joel watched you two from the side. He never doubted Sarah being an awesome big sister. That kid had so much love to give as it was. He knew that sharing it with someone else would have only made his little sunshine happier. But it was you who had Joel captivated. The way your body instantly fell into a motherly state. A wave of proudness washed over him. That was his wife there. Cradling a baby to her chest.

"Dad you should hold her", Sarah said, stepping to the side as she watched her father who had been lost in his mind. "Let your mother bond with her, sweetheart", he said softly but you shook your head, "She's right, you should hold her. She's been looking at you for a while now", you said, standing up carefully. Joel realized just how long it had been since he had held a baby. And his mind instantly jumped to a thousand and one ways that he could hurt her by accident. Support the neck, he told himself, don't press too hard, just hold her steady.

But the moment Joel felt the weight of her in his arms. With you still standing close to him. As Ellie gripped onto your finger. Joel suddenly felt complete. As if this wiggly worm in his arms was exactly what his family had been missing. The warmth of his body soothed the baby and after a close inspection of the man holding her, Ellie's eyes started to grow heavy. "That's a big yawn, baby girl", Joel muttered quietly as he carefully brushed his hand over her head. Sarah walked closer to you two, wrapping her arms around you both, and resting her head on Joel's side. You four just stood there for some time. Joel rested his head onto yours, as the baby between the two of you drifted into a calm sleep. Not a single drop of worry in your body. The lady stood there with a pleased smile on her face, knowing full well that you three were going to give Ellie the best and most loving home she could ever hope to get.

#bubble with bubbles 🫧 #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you

[kairiscorner]

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

my insomniac ahh had to make this, so imagine:

the atsv babes with an insomniac partner (part 1 !)

miles would probably not have been bothered if you texted him in the middle of the night, well a little disoriented because he was in the middle of sleeping peacefully, but when it came to you, nothing was a bother. he would be worried though, like you messaging him at that time? it had to have been important. so he checks your messages and just chuckles to himself when you text him, "miles bb i cant sleep tell me a story :(" he'd text you back, "want me 2 swing u round nyc? make u feel better (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡" you'd always giggle at the cute little kaomojis he'd send, they always cheered you up no matter how irritating your insomnia would get. "ngl i think i cant sleep bc of u" you text him. he raised an eyebrow and texts you back, "wdym?" as he waits for your message, miles' mind began to think that, lately, you did seem pretty lethargic and tired at school. you were caught sleeping in class once and tried to cover for you that you were both studying up late at night for your geography finals or something, when in reality, you were struggling to sleep at night. he sighed, he felt bad he couldn't help you fall asleep right then and there, but he really wanted to do something to ease your burden. it wasn't long until you texted him back a selfie of you curled up in your bed, smiling, with dark circles under your eyes and with disheveled hair all the while from all the tossing and turning. you had a caption there that said, "bc when i finally sleep i find myself missing u, dont leave me while im sleeping ok?" he blushed as he saw your cute face, even if it was tired and sleepy. he took a bed selfie of his own, the same fashion as yours--disheveled and smiling as he's tucked in, with the caption, "ofc not ill even visit ur dreams if u want me to ( ∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩)"

gwen would probably be doing her rounds as spider woman when she noticed a faint light still on by your room. she decided to check in on you, the last time that light was on, you were overworking yourself on a group project you carried all on your own she kicked those slackers' asses the next day. the minute she got there, she noticed you were tossing and turning a whole lot in your bed, clearly struggling to find the right position and spot on your bed to sleep in comfortably. she winced, you seemed really stiff and uncomfortable, you didn't look like sleep was coming to take you away to dreamland any time soon. she lightly knocked on your window, which made you get up immediately. you smiled when you saw her, and you opened the window for her. "hey," you said, clearly tired but unable to sleep. "hey." she replied with a grin as she sat by your windowsill. "can't sleep?" she asked and you nodded slowly. "that... really sucks." she said, taking her mask off to look at you. she was sorry she couldn't say anything better to help the situation, but whatever you were going through, she didn't want you to go through it alone. you laid back down on your bed, "what about you? any plans to sleep tonight, spider woman?" you asked her, to which she chuckled. "not when you're new york's only defender. and especially not when my partner is struggling to sleep on such a fine night." "well... can you maybe sit down next to me? it's not gonna be anything weird, i just... i have a feeling i couldn't sleep because of everything that's happened to us lately–i just really missed you." you say as you look up at her, now in front of you as she hopped off the windowsill and walked toward you. "like how we used to do at sleepovers?" she asked as she gently pulled up a chair and sat across from you. you smiled. "yeah... just like how we used to do at sleepovers." you said as gwen took your hand in her own. even with the suit on, it was warm. you could feel her pulse, the life in her veins and the love she had for you. "i really love you, gwen." you say as she leaned over to kiss your forehead. "love you, too. i hope you'll sleep well tonight." she said as she brushed a few stray hairs away from your face as you closed your eyes, smiling and holding her hand all the while, with her not intending nor planning to ever let you go.

#atsv spiderman #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv x reader #miles morales #atsv gwen #gwen stacy #hobie brown #hobie brown my beloved #atsv hobie #atsv pavitr #pavitr x you #pavitr prabhakar #gwen stacy x y/n #miles morales x y/n #hobie brown x you

[victoirey]

♥︎. REQUESTS I HAVE NO IDEAS FOR —

to the senders of these requests, hi! unfortunately, either due to the fact your request didn't sit right with me or I simply didn't have any ideas — I decided to post your ideas on my account so that people who do have ideas can write those ideas :) thank you!

request one : neytiri and jake break up because jake wanted to leave , however neytiri didn't. so instead of both jake and neytiri going, it's just jake and his family moving to awa'atlu. jake meets metkayina!reader and they click immediately.

— requested by anonymous.

request two : avatar quaritch x reader— in which readers clan was killed by the sky people and reader sees quaritch flying away at the end of the movie. readers first instinct is to kill quaritch, but he is too weak to fight. the reader forces quaritch to fight until they realize there's no honor killing a dead man. reader is quaritch's ticket to getting out of the area he's in, so he charms the reader and befriends them. slowly but surely, quaritch's motives go from killing jake/his family to them.

requested by : @vampire-hunter

request three : jake sully x reader in which reader is a halfbreed— they're human sized, has a queue, and a few blue spots as they were experimented on. basically how jake and them fall in love, and a bunch of cute moments because he's twice their size and hugs them too hard or ends up unable to kiss them because of the height difference.

requested by: @as-lost-as-sams-shoe

request four : na'vi quaritch having a familial bond with a captured na'vi child (reader). he realizes he begins to care for reader and detests it— but refuses to let the kid be tortured by humans.

requested by: anonymous.

request five: you grow up with the sullys— raised a human, raised like spider was— you get jealous over neteyams interactions with tsireya. neteyam x reader.

requested by: anonymous.

request six : "hey could I request a neteyam x male na'vi reader?? maybe he has a breakdown or an anxiety/panic attack after something happened to one of his siblings and the reader helps him ?? thanks !!"

requested by: anonymous.

request seven : "omgmg could I please ask for lo’ak or neteyem w/ reader who’s normally a ball of energy but spends a lot of time alone/is secretly very melancholy a lot of the time?? Idk how to explain it!! I personally tend to put on a bubbly personality around others, but I spend a lot of time alone feeling gloomy. So it’s nice when someone can appreciate both or see through the bubblyness!"

requested by : @|forever-paramore28

request eight: "hello hello! ive been admiring your writing for quite some time now and i was so excited to see your requests have opened ! do you think you could do a tsu’tey’s daughter! reader insert x neteyam? wym tsu’tey died lmao that’s so funny anyways, maybe him and ninat got together and had reader, a sweet looking omaticayan that was taught everything by tsu’tey when it comes to warfare and defense while also having knowledge of the traditions of singing, making beads, and etc. ? just reader being an absolute all rounder. this makes her looked up to and admired among her peers and regarded by adults as a tsahik in the making? maybe she is betrothed to neteyam and despite some complaints (mainly from protective dad tsu’tey bc excuse me thats my baby????) they actually hit it off really well and balance each other out. when the threat of quaritch comes around again, tsu’tey decides to send reader off with the sully’s for her safety. maybe ao’nung, being the lil shit he was, would often make moves on the reader bc he thought he had a chance with her before neteyam gets involved and firmly introduces reader again as his future tsahik and betrothed? idk man protective mfs >>>>>>"

requested by : anon ( thank you for the compliments nonnie. I'm happy that you admire my writing <3)

request nine : "can I request some headcanons for the Sully fam x half bread!reader and by half breed I mean not from avatars but like a lab made baby who looks human, maybe has white hair due to testings and surgeries and can breathe the planet's air since if the humans r making pandora their new home, they gonna try find ways to breathe in the planet's air. Just headcanons about reader going into the forest and stumbling upon the kids and Spider and then noticing shes breathing the air and has cuts n bruises all over her cuz of testing n shi and how the Sullys save and adopt her from the scientists 🤔?"

requested by : anon

request ten : "it’s the tsu’tey daughter! reader insert x neteyam anon again! sorry i sent it way too soon 🥲 maybe after that, the scene where neteyam is supposed to die, reader is beside him and she goes absolutely ballistic and goes ham on the recom na’vis like neytiri did bc 💅🏻 ofc she does my lil girl boss pookie wookie, HAPPY ENDING PLEASE LORD I HAVE HAD ENOUGH TEARS TO SHED"

requested by : anon

my apologies I wasn't able to fulfill these requests as you expected me to, but I am sure someone else could bring your ideas to fruition!!

♡. maggie

#jake sully x reader #jake sully #avatar jake sully #james cameron avatar #avatar quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #na'vi quaritch #miles quaritch #neytiri #awow #avatar way of water #fanfiction ideas #fanfic ideas #ideas

[sourholland]

teardrops on my guitar || jack hughes

making the bold choice of writing a fic for every song on debut by taylor swift, i’ll do it sporadically and for different people as well!! once i finish debut, we will see if i’m feeling fearless tv ☺️ ambitious, believe me I KNOW. anyways send requests

this is dedicated to @folklorelvr333 —tomg is her fave song on debut and jack is her fave guy (appreciate this bc i had to learn jack hughes LORE for this)

debut masterlist

Jack had moved to Michigan during his last years of high school to further his career in hockey and to try to secure his spot as a draft pick. When he started playing for the U.S. NTDP, he attended Plymouth-Canton Educational Park when he wasn’t on the rink. There, he met you.

Jack hadn’t ever claimed to be good with girls, not really. He liked you, though. He liked you a lot. He remembered being paired up with you in lab during his first week. He thought he’d made his interest incredibly obvious. That was, if his pink cheeks and clammy hands weren’t a telltale sign of his trying to flirt with you. Mistakenly, he’d realized he’d done just about the exact opposite. He’d made himself out to be a best friend to you, a shoulder to lean on.

It wasn’t like the NTPD staff had really given him the choice of having a girlfriend, they’d actually discouraged it more than anything. He was on an extremely strict schedule, right down to the time he should be in bed every night.

“So you’ve pretty much got it all laid out for you then?” You’d asked him at lunch one day, sitting across from each other and picking at your food.

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” He laughed, confused.

“I just mean—I don’t know, you’re seventeen years old, Jack. You’re always here or at the rink. I get it and everything, like you’re going to go pro and stuff. I just wonder sometimes if you ever do anything for you, you know?”

Jack’s lips formed a thin line, inhaling deeply as he thought about your words. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand where you were coming from, it was just all he’d ever really known. His parents had him on the ice before he was two years old. He’s eat, slept, and breathed hockey his entire life.

“I do all this for me,” he finally said. “I want this.”

“Come on,” you huffed, teasingly. “You’re telling me you never think about going out and partying? Or like, I don’t know, having a girlfriend?”

His face flushed almost instantaneously, trying to avert his gaze to anything but you. Of course he though about having a girlfriend. He thought about it every time you’d call him after practice to talk about homework. He thought about it each morning when he pulled up in front of your house and you climbed into his passenger seat, laying your hands on his forearm to tell him whatever girl drama you’d found out the night before.

“No, I guess I don’t really think about it much.”

“Bullshit,” you chided. “If that’s true, do you think you have erectile dysfunction or something? Like a hormonal imbalance?”

“What the fuck?” He laughed, nearly spitting out his Gatorade. “No, I definitely don’t have—”

“You’re blushing!” You cut him off, smiling ear-to-ear.

Jack cherished your time together in school; he rarely had a free moment outside of classes that he wasn’t playing hockey. He always felt horrible declining your offers to hang out, but he genuinely couldn’t find a free moment.

A part of him feels this is to blame for your relationship never progressing further. He thought you’d maybe felt something more than platonic feelings for him at one point, but who wants some guy who is too cool for any school functions and can’t see you on weekends because of practice or tournaments. Although, he’d never been honest with you about his feelings either.

It was only a matter of time before you moved forward with your life, leaving him to wonder what could’ve been.

Jack wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t sting every time you’d bring a new guy up, what might’ve taken the cake was when you’d brought one to a hockey game of his. It was like one of those movie moments, Jack thought at practice the next day. He’d seen you in the stands, face lighting up, only to notice the guy beside you with his arm around you.

He wanted to hate the kid, too. Only then did he realize how jealous he truly was. He was heartbroken over a girl he’d never even dated. How was that even possible, Jack would wonder as he stared up at the ceiling in bed.

He could’ve told you, could’ve been honest about how he felt about you. Who knows what would’ve happened, but at least you’d have known. It was too late, he saw how happy you were and had to match your expression with fake smiles and words of encouragement laced with frustration and envy.

Jack tried not to hate himself for how he’d let the situation play out, but he truly couldn’t.

You’d fall in love, and he’d watch. And there was nothing he could do about it.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x yn #jack hughes fanfiction #jack #hughes #elle’s fics