#but hey turn left enough and you end up making a right sooo

[0omillo0]

sooo saying this with as much love and respect as i possibly can but you are really totally utterly amazing at writing and your angst is part of the top tier community 🖤

if you’re up to writing this then 😍 and if not then it’s completely okay! but i was thinking of an angsty but hopeful? comfort ending of where chan/hyunjin/han/felix (i couldn’t decide 😫) forgets y/n bday completely, despite having plans. y/n is sad yes but expects it, so she hangs with her friends & visits her fam etc. the chosen member will either see an ig post where it’s said oh happy birthday or smth or someone asks him about it, he will try to get to y/n but she’s out and about. when she finally gets back to her apartment then you know grovelling, apologising, flowers and so on.

what do you think?🖤☺️

Hyunjin x Reader 황현진 angst/comfort

He forgets your birthday

a/n: first of all, your kind words almost made me cry, made my day fr 🥹 thank you so much for appreciating my work <3 it means the world to me. i hope this is what you wanted! lmk what you think <3

Today was your birthday.

You were never one to make a big deal out of your birthday, but everything changed when Hyunjin came into your life. From the moment he became your boyfriend, he made it his mission to ensure your special day was as cherished and unforgettable as the love he had for you.

He succeded…

until today.

The day began quietly. You woke up, the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains of your shared bedroom. You stretched your arms and turned to find the other side of the bed empty—Hyunjin’s warmth long gone. Confused, you rubbed your eyes and noticed a small piece of paper resting on the pillow beside you. It read:

“Sorry baby, Chan called me. I had to run. Love you.”

You stared at the note, your heart sinking. No “Happy Birthday,” no reminder of the day that was supposed to be special. A lump formed in your throat as you folded the note and placed it on the nightstand.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t anticipated this. Hyunjin had been so busy lately, barely having time for himself, let alone anything else. But deep down, you had held onto the hope that today would be different, that he would remember.

Unable to hold back the wave of disappointment, you reached for your phone. You opened the messages between you and Hyunjin, scrolling through previous conversations where his affection and thoughtfulness had always shone. But today, there was nothing—no text, no missed call. It hit you like a punch to the gut.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you dialed your best friend. The moment she picked up, her cheery tone only made the pain worse.

“Hey, birthday girl!” she greeted. “What’s up? Are you and Hyunjin doing something special today?”

That was it. The dam broke. A sob escaped your lips, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“Hyunjin forgot,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face. “He forgot my birthday.”

“What?!” your friend exclaimed, the shock evident in her voice. “Y/N, no way. Are you serious?”

You sniffled, your voice trembling. “I woke up, and he was gone. He left a note saying Chan called him, but… but nothing about my birthday. Not even a text, nothing. I feel so stupid for expecting anything.”

Another voice chimed in—it was one of your other close friends, who had been with her. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. That’s awful. Are you sure he didn’t plan something later?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice breaking again. “I don’t think so. He’s been so busy lately. I just—” You stopped, unable to form the words as another sob wracked your chest. “It hurts. It feels like… like I don’t matter enough to be remembered lately.”

“Don’t say that,” your first friend said gently, her tone laced with sympathy. “You matter so much, Y/N. I know Hyunjin loves you like crazy. Maybe he’s just overwhelmed, but I can’t believe he’d forget on purpose.”

“Even if it’s not on purpose, it still hurts,” you whispered, wiping at your cheeks. “I don’t even want to talk to him right now. I just need to turn my phone off and forget about it.”

There was a pause before your friend spoke again. “Okay. You can spend the day with us, alright? Forget about him for now. We’ll celebrate you because you deserve it.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Thank you. I’ll be there soon.”

Later that morning, you met your friends at a cozy café. They greeted you with hugs and warm smiles, trying their best to lift your spirits. You forced yourself to smile back, but the weight of Hyunjin’s absence lingered.

As you sipped your coffee, one of your friends leaned closer. “How are you feeling now?”

“Still hurt,” you admitted quietly. “I keep telling myself not to care, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s like… how could he forget something like this? We’ve been together for years. He knows how much birthdays mean to me.”

Your other friend reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “You’re allowed to feel hurt, Y/N. Don’t bottle it up. But knowing Hyunjin, he’ll realize sooner or later and feel awful about it.”

You nodded but stayed silent, the sadness still gnawing at you. After a while, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, and though you appreciated their efforts, you couldn’t fully shake the disappointment.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin was at the studio, oblivious to the emotional turmoil he had caused. It wasn’t until he took a break and opened Instagram that everything clicked.

His heart dropped when he saw a post from your friend—a picture of you laughing at the café, the caption reading:

“Happy Birthday to the sweetest soul! Love you, @Y/N 💕🎉”

Hyunjin froze. “Birthday? No… it can’t be today.” But as he checked the date on his phone, reality hit him like a freight train.

He scrambled to open your messages, his fingers trembling as he typed.

“Y/N, baby, I’m so sorry. I just realized. Please call me.”

“Y/N, where are you? Please, I need to talk to you.”

“Baby, I messed up. I’m so sorry. Please answer me.”

But none of the messages went through. They were marked undelivered, a clear sign that you had turned your phone off. Panic surged through him.

“How could I forget?!” he muttered to himself, pacing the studio. Without wasting another second, he called his manager to clear his schedule and rushed home to make things right.

Back at the apartment, Hyunjin worked tirelessly to create a heartfelt surprise. He decorated the living room with string lights, candles and his paintings, filled a vase with your favorite flowers, and placed a small velvet box containing a delicate necklace on the coffee table.

He also booked a table at an upscale restaurant and bought you a gorgeous Versace dress, imagining how radiant you would look in it. Every detail was perfect—except for the sinking guilt in his chest.

When you finally returned home that evening, your face was streaked with dried tears, and your eyes were red and puffy. As you unlocked the door and stepped inside, you froze. The warm glow of fairy lights illuminated the room, and Hyunjin stood in the center, his face etched with guilt and love.

“Y/N…” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You stood there, too emotionally drained to respond. Your gaze shifted to the flowers, the candles, and the neatly wrapped dress on the couch.

“What is all this?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

Hyunjin took a hesitant step closer. “It’s my way of saying I’m sorry. I forgot your birthday, and I can’t tell you how much I regret it. I have no excuse, Y/N. I was so caught up in everything else that I forgot the one person who matters most to me.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they were fueled by the sincerity in his voice. “Do you know how hurt I was, Hyunjin? I woke up thinking today would be special, but you weren’t even here. I felt so… forgotten.”

You took a small break and sighed. “You… you were the only one who didn’t make me feel this way—“

Hyunjin’s eyes filled with tears as he listened. “Please don’t use the past. I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I swear, it wasn’t because I don’t care. You’re everything to me, Y/N. Please, let me make it up to you.”

He gestured to the dress and added, “I planned a special dinner for us tonight. And this…” He picked up the necklace from the table. “This is for you. I know it doesn’t erase the pain I caused, but I hope it shows how much you mean to me.”

Your heart softened as his words sank in. Despite the hurt, you could see how deeply he regretted his mistake. Slowly, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, letting his warmth melt the lingering sadness.

“I forgive you,” you whispered against his chest. “Just… don’t let it happen again.”

“Never,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Happy Birthday, my love.”

[goldsainz]

# HIGH INFIDELITY — CHAPTER ONE !

SERIES MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ no matter what you do or who you’re with, rafe is the thorn in your side that persists.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ drinking, rafe’s a bitch.

003. NOTE !

✯ the italics part is meant to be past, normal is present. not a lot of rafe in this part, but we’re building up the tension, bear with me guys. also this is short n’ sweet, but it was either this or waiting like a week sooo 🤗

word count : 3,1k

Summer is, without a doubt, your favourite season of the year—a time when everything seems a little brighter, warmer, and full of promise. But above all, it’s the chance for romance that makes it truly special. As the breeze grazes your skin, you're struck with all the endless possibilities for a breezy, passionate fling. Summer brings not just warmth, but the promise of memories waiting to be made.

Perhaps that is why this summer feels different, why you're filled with a sensation you are not used to. Because, in true you fashion, you cannot help but fall for the first guy that makes eye contact with you. It’s as if that single look, just a fleeting connection, has already set something in motion within you. It doesn't really matter who they are, you just hope they're decent enough that when the summer ends you won't wallow until the next one.

Despite everything you’ve always been told—that Kooks and Pogues live in separate worlds, that some lines are best left uncrossed—you can’t help but feel all that advice slip away in a single moment. A single glance across the bonfire, a glint of warmth and interest in his eyes, has you questioning every cautionary tale you've ever heard. 

He lifts his hand in a simple wave, and without thinking, you lift yours in return. He smiles, and you find yourself smiling back, helpless against the pull he seems to have over you. It’s such a small exchange, yet it sends a thrill through you. So simply, your heart is already in the hands of a Kook that probably doesn't even know your name.

For a single moment, just when you finally let your guard down and begin to lose yourself in the summer night, you feel a hard shove against your shoulder. The unexpected force nearly sends you toppling, and you stumble awkwardly to keep your footing. A quick flash of irritation floods your mind, and as you turn, you see the culprit—and, oh, if it isn’t the most predictable sight in the world.

It’s Rafe Cameron. Of course, it is. He moves through the crowd like he owns it, barely glancing your way, as if you’re invisible, or worse, just an obstacle on his path to whatever or whoever he’s fixated on. 

“Watch it, Kook!” You shout at him, your voice sharp, as you glare down at the mess now soaking into the sand, the drink he so casually spilled with his careless shove. Typical Rafe—he couldn’t just bump into you and keep walking; no, he had to leave a mark, a small reminder of how easy it is for him to disrupt whatever, or whoeever, is in his way.

There’s no point in trying to get Rafe to acknowledge his mistakes. He wouldn’t care, and honestly, why waste the energy? Annoyed, you make your way toward the drink stand, trying to shake off the aggravation and enjoy what’s left of the night. The makeshift bar is stocked with copious amounts of beer, a few murky-looking bottles of whiskey, and vodka that looks questionably watered down. You sigh, filling a red cup and trying to hold on to a sliver of the excitement you felt earlier. Maybe it’s time to call it a night, to forget the rude shove and, disappointingly, to forget the boy you shared glances with.

“Hey,” a voice interrupts as you lift the cup to your lips, pulling you from your thoughts. You look up, and there he is—the guy from across the bonfire, standing right in front of you, his expression soft but earnest. “I’m sorry about him,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Huh?” The word slips out, and for a moment, you forget all about the spilled drink, the scowl on your face, even Rafe Cameron’s entitled shove. The memory of the night seems to blur, leaving just this moment, this exchange. You’re left with that same rush from earlier, only more intense now, standing close enough to see the way the firelight reflects in his eyes. 

“He shoved you, right?” he asks, raising his voice slightly so it cuts through the noise around you. There’s a hint of concern in his eyes, and he leans in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of saltwater and something earthy, maybe cedar. “Or did I mistake you for someone else?”

“No, no,” you reply, shaking your head, a small, sheepish smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. “That was me, unfortunately. Rafe Cameron’s idea of saying ‘excuse me,’ I guess.”

He laughs, a low sound that somehow makes the rest of the chaotic night fade into the background. “Sounds about right,” he says with a shrug, like he knows exactly the kind of person Rafe is—and isn’t surprised in the slightest. His gaze lingers on you, though, holding a warmth and sincerity that feels like a stark contrast to everything you just experienced. It’s as if he’s actually seeing you, not just some girl who got shoved around in the crowd.

“So… can I get you another drink?” he asks, nodding toward your mostly empty cup. “You know, as a ‘sorry for my obnoxious friend’ kind of thing.”

"I don’t even know your name,” you say, keeping your tone casual, though you can feel a flicker of heat rising in your cheeks. Of course, you do. But he doesn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyway.

He raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes as if he’s caught on to your feigned innocence but decides to play along. “Is that so?” he asks, a grin curving on his lips. “Well, then. I guess that makes us strangers, doesn’t it?”

You bite back a smile, shrugging, as if the flutter in your chest is no big deal. “I suppose it does.”

He extends his hand, the light from the bonfire casting a warm glow on his face. “I’m Joshua, but you can call me Josh.” he says, as though you hadn’t already heard the name whispered among your friends a hundred times. “And you are?”

“YN,” you say softly, letting your name slip past your lips like a secret, as if saying it too loudly might break the spell of this moment.

“Well, YN,” he drawls, your name slipping off his lips like honey, rich and warm. Somehow, in the noise and firelight, it sounds sweeter coming from him than you’ve ever heard it before. “Can I get you a drink?”

You hesitate, just for a second, but then you nod, feeling a lightness in your chest that hadn’t been there before. “I’d like that, yeah,” you say, and suddenly, youre not so ready for the night to end.

As you lie peacefully on the beach, your head resting on Josh’s chest and the sun’s warm rays caressing your skin, a deep contentment settles over you. The waves roll in rhythmically, their soft crashing mixing with the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. 

Josh’s fingers trace lazy patterns along your arm, a quiet gesture that says so much without a word. Somehow, these last days have passed in a perfect blur, each moment with him slipping effortlessly into the next. It’s as if the rest of the world has faded into the background, leaving just the two of you and the freedom of these warm summer days.

It hasn’t been more than three days, you’re sure. But in the rush of everything—of his touch, of the laughter, of the long talks that stretch into the night—it feels like so much more. It doesn’t matter, though. Summer is fleeting by nature, and relationships, much like the warmth of the sun, can’t last forever. You’ve always known that.

Maybe that’s why things feel so easy with Josh. There’s no pressure, no rush to figure it all out. You don’t need a lifetime to know that this connection is real, even if it’s only for now.

“I was thinking…” he whispers, his voice sending a shiver down your spine as it tickles your ear. “Why don’t you come with me to a party? It’s very casual.”

You turn your head slightly so you can look at him, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin. “Where?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

“Just… at a friend’s house,” he replies, his words vague, as though he’s trying to keep something hidden. You sense it, the hesitation, like he’s afraid the full truth will make you back out.

“Okay… whose house?” you ask, your voice a bit firmer now, wanting a little more clarity.

You roll your eyes and let out a dramatic groan, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Fine. But the second he crosses a line, I’m out. Don’t try to stop me.”

Josh raises his hands, feigning innocence, though there’s a gleam of victory in his eyes. “Deal,” he says with a grin, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

“I’m serious,” you press, your voice soft but your gaze steady, locking onto his as if to underline your words. You want him to know you’re not playing around; Rafe has crossed too many lines before, and you’re not about to give him any more chances.

Josh’s grin softens into something more earnest as he takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know. And I won’t let him pull anything. I’ll be right there with you.”

You nod, reassured—well, mostly. There’s still a twinge of anxiety at the thought of walking into Rafe’s space. But with Josh by your side, it feels like a risk worth taking. You take a deep breath, pushing away the doubts, letting yourself focus on the warmth of his hand in yours.

You know you’ll probably regret being so compliant later, but in this moment, under the warm sun and the gentle pull of his charm, you can’t find it within yourself to care. Not right now, anyway.

The party is at its peak when you step inside with Josh, his hand a steady presence on the small of your back. People weave around, stumbling and laughing, drinks sloshing as they chug another round. The air is thick with the smell of beer and perfume, the music pounding loud enough to shake the floor.

Tannyhill is enormous, every inch of it polished and perfect. Compared to the flimsy house you call home, this level of luxury feels surreal, almost insulting—like you’re trespassing in a world you’re not meant to be a part of.

“You good?” Josh’s voice is low against your ear, his fingers pressing lightly, reassuringly, into your back.

“Yeah,” you manage, glancing around at the high ceilings and spotless marble floors. “Big house,” you mumble, trying to play it off, but Josh catches the edge of awe in your voice and lets out a soft chuckle.

“Sometimes I forget,” he says with a smile, “that this is all just… normal to me. It’s weird, huh?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “A little.” There’s an underlying discomfort, a feeling of not quite fitting in, but with Josh beside you, you tell yourself it doesn’t matter.

As you navigate through the crowd, you spot Rafe across the room, casually leaning against a table, a smirk on his face as he watches the crowd unfold around him. His gaze shifts, and for a brief second, his eyes lock onto yours, his smirk turning into something sharper, something that sends a prickle of irritation through you.

Josh notices and gives your hand a squeeze, as if grounding you. “Remember our deal,” he murmurs, his tone playful but his eyes serious.

“Right,” you reply, taking a deep breath and letting it go, trying to shake off the feeling of being under Rafe’s watch. Tonight, you tell yourself, is about being with Josh, about experiencing his world—even if only for a night.

There are barely any Pogues here, you realize, glancing around at the faces in the crowd. Maybe a few who hover on the edges, those who toe the line between a bad season of hard luck and those who might actually crawl and beg to be part of the Kooks’ world. They’re the ones who keep their heads down, wearing uncomfortable clothes, trying to blend in without drawing attention.

You feel the difference even more now, the gap between you and this place, this crowd. Everyone here is effortlessly at ease, basking in the privilege that’s been theirs since birth. And yet here you are, standing in the middle of it all, aware of every sideways glance, every slightly raised eyebrow as you pass by.

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to be here?” you ask again, your voice low, almost like you’re bracing yourself for Rafe or one of his friends to notice you and kick you out.

Josh squeezes your hand, his expression softening. “Of course. They don’t care, really,” he says, his tone steady, almost casual, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You wish you could believe him. You’ve noticed, over these past few days, how little Josh seems to care about the whole Kook and Pogue divide. He doesn’t see you as an outsider, doesn’t seem to register the tension that hums just beneath the surface. To him, it’s all irrelevant, a line drawn in the sand that doesn’t matter. It’s refreshing—and it’s blinding.

Because Josh’s indifference almost fooled you into thinking the world works that way, too. Like the Kooks and Pogues can just coexist, that the labels and histories are meaningless. But tonight, standing in this mansion with strangers’ eyes glancing your way, you feel the weight of it again, the silent reminders that you don’t belong.

He notices the hesitation in your eyes, the way you’re pulling back, and his hand slides to your shoulder, a gentle reminder that he’s here with you. “Listen,” he murmurs, leaning close so only you can hear, “I don’t care about any of that, and if anyone else does… well, that’s their problem. You’re with me.”

His words are a comfort, but they’re not enough to erase the uneasy feeling that lingers. You force a smile, hoping he can’t see the doubt flickering there, and nod. “Right. I’m with you.”

For the slightest moment you feel at ease, but almost like clockwork, the grating voice of Rafe Cameron breaks your reverie, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Hey, man,” he greets, slapping a hand on Josh’s back in that familiar, boy-ish way.

“What’s up, Rafe?” Josh replies, his smile wide, clearly used to this dynamic, his tone casual and easygoing.

“Nothing much, just trying to keep everything at bay,” Rafe responds, his voice dripping with indifference as he talks like you’re not even standing there. Like you don’t exist in this moment, and it stings more than it should.

“Cool,” Josh shifts slightly, turning toward you. “I’m sure you’ve met YN, hope it’s all good that I brought her?”

At that, Rafe finally looks at you. The weight of his gaze makes your skin prickle, and for a moment, you almost squirm under it. “Yup, all good,” Rafe says, his voice laced with something colder, something discomforting. “I said you could bring anyone… and you did.”

The way he says it is so backhanded, so typical of him. You can practically hear the unspoken judgement in his words, feel it in the way he looks at you, sizing you up.

You’re not surprised, of course—this is Rafe, after all—but the little jab only adds to the discomfort that’s been creeping up on you all evening. You force a tight smile, but it feels too small, too weak for what’s really going on inside. Still, you keep your eyes on Josh, hoping he doesn’t notice how the atmosphere has shifted, how Rafe’s presence has twisted everything just enough to make you feel smaller than you are.

“Well, enjoy the party,” Rafe says, his smile almost too practised, like he’s delivering a line he’s said a hundred times before. The kind of smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, that’s meant to keep things cordial, even if the undercurrent of judgement is thick enough to cut through.

“We will,” Josh replies easily, not missing a beat, his voice smooth and unbothered, as though none of the tension is hanging in the air.

Josh’s hand finds yours, his fingers warm against your skin as he gently pulls you away from the conversation. But as you pass by Rafe, you hear him lean in slightly, his voice just low enough for only you to hear. “Not too much, yeah?”

It’s a whisper, but it feels like a slap. You can feel your brows furrow instinctively, the words gnawing at you. You’re tempted, so tempted, to turn around and shove him and ask, What the hell is wrong with you?

But you don’t.

Instead, you let Josh lead you away, his hand tightening around yours in a subtle reassurance. The music swells, the noise of the party grows louder, but it all feels distant now, like a blur around the sharp edge of Rafe’s comment. You try to ignore it, try to shake it off, but it clings to you, sticking in your chest like a splinter.

Even as you move through the crowd, you know that this night isn’t just about the music or the people—it’s about the silent things too. The things you can’t control, the things you have to push past in order to keep moving.

And Rafe Cameron is the one thing you can’t push past, no matter how hard you try. The one who thinks he can push you down, who sees you as something beneath him, a reminder of everything he’s convinced he’s better than.

But if there’s one thing he needs to know, it’s that you don’t go out without a fight. He might have the money, the reputation, the home twice the size of anywhere you’ve ever lived, but he will not ruin your summer. 

He’s attempted to get under your skin before and failed. And you’re not about to let this be any different. The summer isn’t his to take from you, no matter how hard he tries. He’s not a force you’re willing to let derail everything good about these days. Not the warmth of the sun, not the nights you spend with Josh, not the taste of freedom you’ve felt since you stepped into his world.

You’ll be damned if you let Rafe Cameron, of all people, get in the way of that.

[nylaboon]

can you do rodrick heffley x gn reader who is also in a band and is the drummer ? maybe like an enemies/rivals to lovers situation idk

You and I — Rodrick Heffley

"Without you there is no reason for my story / And when I'm with you I can always act the same / Forever, yeah, if we're together / We can make it better"

— in which your rivalry finally concludes.

rodrick heffley x gn!reader

tags: rivals to lovers, not proof-read, kinda rushed at the end

notes: bless your soul for requesting this, i had literally so much fun writing it <33 i also took inspiration from lemonade mouth for the setting, which is a fuckin banger movie

Like a coyote and a lamb. Like a predator and its prey. He was always there—watching. Waiting for the moment you slipped up. At least, that was his excuse. Whenever someone asked, "hey Rodrick, if you hate y/n so much, why are you always showing up to their band's gigs?" he'd always say the same thing.

He craved your embarrassment. It's always been that way.

You had a better reputation. Despite your band being as popular as his (so not very), people never criticized it because your music was decent. And you—in his eyes—were perfect. You were everything he sometimes wished he was. You had what he wanted. Even if what you had wasn't much to be proud of, he still wanted it. Rodrick Heffley was jealous of you. Of the way people looked at you and not him. So, to see him sitting at a table all alone, staring right at you; not trying to be subtle in the slightest. It wasn't surprising, and it definitely wasn't new. In fact, you'd be shocked if he missed any of your gigs.

You were playing at a pizza joint, which was probably not the ideal place for a rock band to play, but your group was taking whatever they could get. A gig is a gig and publicity is publicity. It was a win-win in your book. Aside from Rodrick's envious glare from across the room, it was a good night.

Until after you guys played, at least. See, there were four of you. Ryan, the lead guitarist. Courtney, the vocalist. Owen, the bassist. And you, the drummer. All four of you were equally a mess. A very unorganized mess.

After playing, you treated yourselves to pizza and refreshments to celebrate a good night. The thing was that Courtney and Ryan were dating, and they weren't uncomfortable with the concept of PDA. Fortunately for Owen, his mom picked him up early. You, however, were not lucky, meaning that after taking a moment in the bathroom, you came back to see the booth you were sitting at empty, aside from the leftover food.

You knew Ryan and Courtney long enough to know what happened. They were either making out in the backseat of his car, or they left the property completely and drove back to one of their houses to make out. And considering the fact that Ryan was the one who picked you up, you were completely fucked. Your dad's car was stuck at a repair shop and your mom had no clue how to drive. You couldn't even catch an Uber because you were broke as hell.

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was the universe being your number one hater.

One thing led to another and now you're sitting in the passenger seat of Rodrick's van, holding onto the grab handle for dear life as he sped down the street. Your drum set slid around the back of the van, taking hard hits every time he took a sharp turn. If he kept this up any longer, you'd probably get carsick.

"For the love of all things holy, slow down!" You desperately yelled over the sound of the engine purring. He gave you an unimpressed look before sighing and slamming his foot onto the brake, making the car come to a sudden stop. You almost flew out of your seat from the impact.

"Of course," he began, "leave it to y/n to ruin the fun." You brushed your hair out of your face and sent a glare his way.

"I'm sooo sorry for worrying about our safety," you shot back sarcastically. "Could you maybe try to drive like a normal person, for a change?" He glanced out his car window and smirked, pretending to put effort into considering your request.

"Huh, let me think about it... No." His smirk dropped and was replaced with his usual look of displeasure. You scoffed and threw your head back against the headrest in defeat. You should've known asking him such a thing would be a waste of breath. It's not like this was your first time driving with him. Every time you asked for him to slow down, he just ignored you; pretending that he couldn't hear you basically screaming over the engine. But for some reason, he didn't do that this time...

When he started driving again, he only went two miles over the speed limit instead of the usual twenty-plus. He was listening to you, and it was weird. Not that you hated it. Much like any normal person, you were quite grateful that your life wasn't currently on the line because of an idiot of a driver. It didn't even make sense for him to have a driver's license.

At least, you assumed he had one.

Thanks to the speed he was going, you managed to calm your racing heart and relax your muscles. You let go of the grab handle and let your hands fall to your lap. A beat of silence passed as Rodrick focused on the road.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" You asked, referring to the gig. The boy beside you didn't spare you a glance, keeping his eyes focused on the road in the meantime.

"Do you even have to ask?"

"Y'know, you usually say no, but I saw you bopping your head a few times." In response to your comment, he slammed the brakes a second time, causing your body to fly forward aggressively. You cursed under your breath and rubbed the back of your head to soothe the pain from banging into the headrest.

He, however, was unfazed and proceeded to drive. "Can it, asswipe." But you could see the hint of a smile creeping up on the corner of his lips. You rolled your eyes and rested your head against the car door window. "Why are you so..."

"So?"

"...I don't know. Why do you hate me so much?" It's not like you ever did anything to hurt him. When you first met, you tried to be nothing but kind to him. Yet, ever since he found out about your little talent, he made his strong disdain for you clearer than glass. "It's like you enjoy being confusing."

He hesitated, debating on whether to answer your question or leave you guessing. On one hand, he didn't feel like having this conversation with you, but on the other, he knew that you wouldn't take the latter for an answer.

"I don't hate you. What makes you say that?" He asked innocently, trying his best to walk around your question. You gave him a look of disbelief and sneered at his utter bullshit lie.

"You don't hate me? Yeah okay, that explains why you're always glaring at me at every chance you get. Why you always mock me whenever I say literally anything. Why you try to get in crashes every time you drive me home."

"To be fair, I always drive like that," he spoke in defense. "And I don't glare at you all the time."

"Then what—the hell—were you doing while I was playing?"

"Inspecting you." You rolled your eyes for what had to have been the hundredth time that night. Of course he wasn't holding himself accountable; why would he? He didn't owe you anything, and you never expected any less. "You're not special, y/n. Are you that self-centered that you think I have a problem with you?"

That question angered you. He was obviously trying to get under your skin, and by God, it was working. "I'm not self-centered, dipshit. I'm observant. So now that we're alone, you might as well tell me what your problem is, Rodrick."

For the second time, he was silenced. But it only lasted for a little while. Contrary to the stern look on his face, his voice was soft. "I don't hate you, y/n," he reiterated. "You're just... I don't know how to feel about you."

It was like a never-ending battle with himself. He wanted to hate you, but he couldn't. He had no valid reason to. You were nice to him no matter how many times he chose to be a dick to you. He wasn't confusing, Rodrick thought. You were confusing. Why were you so nice to him? He never deserved it. How long would it take for your patience to finally run low? Yeah, you were doing better than him in terms of social hierarchy, but you had no control over people liking you. And that answered a question for him so flawlessly: if you weren't in the picture, would anything change? Would he have the spotlight?

The answer was short, but far from sweet. Nothing would change. He'd still be the Rodrick that everyone knew and hated. You were a naturally likable person, while he was the odd one out. If he was to hate anyone, it should've been himself.

"You annoy the hell out of me and you don't even have to try." It was absurd. "You make me think about how much of an asshole I am, and I hate thinking about my actions." You held back a laugh but allowed a smile to fall upon your face.

He continued his rant. "I guess what I'm thinking is that you're a perfect example of who people want me to be. And with you being a drummer as well, it's just even more annoying. Like a comparison for everyone to see." It was like he was in your shadow, and you weren't even aware of it.

You took a deep breath and let the air escape through your nose. His words were a lot to take in, and you weren't expecting such hard-hitting reasoning from such a dull guy. Then again, you always knew he didn't apply his full potential in certain situations, so it was hard to tell with him. "Rodrick," you started, your voice soft and understanding, "I'm not all that great, and I really hope you know that. Don't beat yourself up just because I'm too much of a coward to be mean to people."

He raised an eyebrow at your words, urging you to keep talking. You complied. "The only reason why I'm not going around cursing people out is because I'm actually trying to not get my ass beat. I don't like everyone—hell, I barely like anyone at that fucked up school. But that's what differentiates us. I'm a coward and you're not."

You spoke with full sincerity and vulnerability. You were opening up to him. "It's not like I'm a perfect angel or something. I'm just a pussy. And sometimes I wish I were as confident as you are."

The only reason why you were a sweetheart to everyone was to avoid conflict. Rodrick bit his bottom lip as he listened to you. "So you just let people walk all over you? Seriously?"

"That's the only reason so many people like me," you answered. "People don't care about you being nice. It's all about whether you're a doormat or not." You unfortunately had a point. People only came to you when they needed something. "You aren't a doormat and you're not afraid to be yourself. That's why people hate you."

"So you shouldn't hate me, or whatever the case is," you explained. "Because, truth be told, you're better than me."

That last sentence was enough to make him do a double-take. At first, he was surprised at your admission, but now he was laughing. You furrowed your eyebrows, assuming that he wasn't taking your heartfelt commentary seriously. "What's so funny?"

Rodrick shook his head as he continued to snicker. "Man, I never thought I'd live to see the day you'd admit that I'm better than you." He hit your shoulder playfully with the back of his free hand, completely ignoring your semi-annoyed expression.

"Rodrick, I'm being serious."

"I know that. That's what makes it hilarious." Eventually, his van drove up to a red light and came to a stop. He rubbed his face with his hands and let out one last airy laugh. "Shit, y/n..."

You glared at him for a few more seconds before staring down at your lap. A smile slowly forced its way onto your face. You wanted to laugh because of him. He was so childish...

"I really couldn't hate you if I wanted to," he confessed. "Thanks for the compliment though, dork."

You didn't think much of his comment. Instead, you enjoyed the one rare time you and him weren't trying to strangle each other. Not like you ever hated it. It was more entertaining than anything, and you looked forward to it most days. Sometimes, the insults he called you were a little too funny to ruin your day. Now that you thought about it, Rodrick never did offend you. You liked your stupid little rivalry.

...huh.

"...I don't hate you either," you muttered awkwardly. "In case you're wondering."

"I knew that, but I never understood why." You simply shrugged and watched the cars beside you begin to move once the light turned green again.

"You never gave me a reason to. I mean, I never really took your insults seriously." You didn't need to look at him to know that he was unsure about what you were saying. "You're not as intimidating as you think you are. Far from it actually."

"Oh really? Then what am I to you?" He asked. You could've sworn there was some sort of smug aura to him. "What do you want to be?" You questioned. He shook his head with his signature smile, refusing to answer your question. He wasn't smiling out of joy, he was smiling out of uneasiness. "That's a stupid question to ask."

"Why are you avoiding it?"

"Because it's stupid."

"You basically asked me the same thing!"

"Yet you never answered me." He got you there. But you weren't sure how to answer the question. It was like trying to take a shot at someone in the dark. What was Rodrick to you? You were never sure if you could consider him a friend, but he wasn't your enemy as far as you were concerned.

"I don't know what you are to me," you answered truthfully. "Seriously, we have, like, a love-hate relationship or something... Not that I can even call it that since I don't hate you. So, I don't know."

You turned to him and stared at him with your curious eyes. "Now answer my question."

As you said that, he pulled into the driveway of your house. He pulled his hand away from the steering wheel and folded his arms against his chest. He looked down at his lap, much like what you did whenever you got nervous or annoyed. "Alright, I'll be real with you."

"It wouldn't, like, suck if I was, like, yours, or something." You paused. Actually, it felt like the whole world paused at that moment. Rodrick Heffley, that demon of a boy, liked you. You weren't embarrassed. You were shocked. Mainly because all of that tormenting he did was just an act, and that was a little hard to believe. But it all made sense once you remembered what he told you.

He couldn't hate you if he wanted to.

Once the shock finally cleared, you grinned and scratched at your neck anxiously. "Oh yeah? That's how you feel?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" You rolled your eyes and unbuckled your seatbelt before opening the door and climbing out of his van. "Come help me." Rodrick let out a groan that was mixed with both annoyance and fear. Fear that you would make fun of him for thinking of you in such a way. He got out on his side and sluggishly walked to the back of the van to help you carry your drum set to your garage.

"Y'know, you can just hurry up and hit me with the 'ew no, don't ever talk to me again'," he offered. "It wouldn't be the first time I heard it."

"What makes you think I'd say that?" You inquired. He let out a scoff. "Why wouldn't you?" It would make more sense if you did.

You both stayed silent as you brought your equipment back to your garage. When you finished, Rodrick began to walk back to his van. But you stopped him before he could get back in.

"Hey, Rod?" He hummed and turned around to face you. You walked up to him, took him by his cheek using your thumb and index finger, and pulled him down so you could press a short peck onto his lips. Afterward, you pulled away from his lips but stayed in his proximity. "Call me when you get home," you ordered in a quiet, smooth tone, "okay?"

He stared down at you in astonishment, his mouth hanging ajar as he tried to process what the hell happened in the last ten seconds.

"Uh—yeah, uh... I can do that," he muttered bashfully. You responded with a 'good' and gently patted his cheek two times before walking to your front door as if you hadn't just flipped the guy's entire world upside down.

"I'll be waiting," you called out before shutting the door and leaving Rodrick outside, frozen in place.

It was totally fate.

written by @nylaboon

[chilumi-shipper]

My Favorite Girl (2)

Arataki Itto x Shrine Maiden!Fem!Reader

Summary: Part 2 of My Favorite Girl, you unexpectedly return, missing everything and everybody. You want to make things clear, does he still love you? And do you still love him?

Tags: Two lines with curses, Bullying in work place, Angst to Fluff

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Itto remained seated by the docks, similar to how his days ended the past month. The burning ache of your departure never left him, in fact, it has only gotten worse, your lack of presence making itself known to him and a certain mini-sized bull.

Two months.

You've been gone two months, double the time you said you were gonna spend on Watatsumi Island. All his prayers to see a boat containing you had been ignored, much like the letters he sent to you while you were gone.

"Hey, babe! How's the job treating you?"

"I know you'll ace this job like you always do! What is it that Shrine Maidens do specifically that they have to switch locations? Well anyway, you'll do so good, you probably won't even need a full month to finish the job."

"Looooveee, don't let Ushi warm your side of the bed for too long, okay? His sleep moos are kinda annoying, ya know? Ohh, crap! He caught me writing you a letter!" This particular letter had a bite mark and a hoof print of the sleep moo-er.

"So... I don't know how to start this up without sounding like a total jerk, but... Well, first I wanna say happy birthday! Very very late happy birthday..." This letter was quite long, yet it received no reaction.

"You haven't returned any of my letters yet, which is totally okay if you're too busy! But I just wanna know if you're okay... I really miss you, Ushi misses you, the gang too! It been a little bit over a month, waiting for you~ I love youu." This letter was signed by each member of the Arataki Gang, each with their own little message.

A few letters of concern goes by, no response.

"It's been two months, my darling... When are you coming back home?" He wrote this one drunk and in tears, the feeling of missing you sinking deeper and deeper into his gut, not letting him shrug off the feeling like he did before.

"Boss! Look what I found in your mail!" The loud shout of Akira irritated the many people at the docks of Ritou, but it did its job of catching the oni's attention.

Itto turned to see the gang running up yo him. "Hey! You can't just go through my mail like that! What if you accidentally open ones for Y/N? She'd kill ya!"

"Yeah, I know, boss. But I actually got this from the mail delivery before it reached your house, sooo... this isn't your mail yet..." Akira remarked, proudly showing off his loophole.

Kuki Shinobu rolled her eyes before urging him, "Go on then, show him."

The Akira, Mamoru, and Genta excitedly showed Itto the letter in Akira's hands. "From Miss Y/N herself! Ohhh, is our Honorary Maiden about to return? We must rejoice!" Genta exclaimed, hyping up the other members too. Ushi himself couldn't keep his little body from jumping in joy.

"Looks like we don't have to go to Watatsumi for a grand Arataki rescue mission."

"Yeah, hmmm... I was kinda excited about that though."

"Now, hold on..." Shinobu broke their thrilled conversation. "We haven't even read the letter."

"Shinobu's right. Maybe... she just wants to say there's nothing to worry about, and she'll be staying there longer..." The hopeless voice coming from the oni, perhaps preparing for dissapointment, didn't go unnoticed. The gang noticed the change in attitude their leader has been having a few weeks after you left, getting worse with each passing day without you.

"Aww, boss, don't be like that! I'm sure Miss Y/N's had enough of Watatsumi now, she's probably preparing to head home right now." Mamoru attempted to comfort his boss, but Itto has told himself the same so many times that he feels like he can no longer hold the statement in a high regard.

Ushi softly pushed Itto's ankle with his hoof, urging him to open the letter.

"I apologize, my dear. This letter may be long overdue, but I want to let you know that I am doing just fine, there is nothing to worry about. I will be returning in just a short while, I trust that Ushi has kept my side of the bed warm for me, hehehe. To the Arataki Gang, I missed you all as well, I look forward to seeing you. And as for my beloved, Itto, let's talk once I'm there."

"She's really coming back home!" Everyone celebrated, but Itto's mind started spinning.

The most terrifying words... "Let's talk..." without a hint of emotion.

He looked at the letter once again...

Not even an I love you.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Itto didn't expect the "returning in just a short while" to be just a few hours after he received the letter.

But when he found the door of your shared home open, you were standing visibly inside with your luggage laying on the ground, he could only stand in shock.

He has been dreaming of your return for the past month, but he hasn't exactly thought about how he was gonna greet you, he wasn't even sure whether you were still upset about how he treated you then.

"Y/N..." He whispered the name of the love of his life into the air, being loud enough to just about graze your ears.

You turned to look at him, and immediately, your heart fluttered at the sight. The ever so idiotically dashing man you think is still yours. Your heart sunk at the thought, opting to smile at him instead.

"Itto... Am I still welcome here?" There's a pain constantly in your chest when you think of him. Is his home still your home? Have you been thoroughly replaced? Did you absence spark something between him and a certain ninja you know?

"What are you-" The oni started of confused. "Of course you're welcome here! This is your home, did you think Ushi clamed your ownership entirely? He only took up the bed, but that's it, really." You giggled at his remark, finding it easy to talk to him still.

"It's just that you probably didn't expect me to come back now. My letter was pretty late, as I've heard." You reasoned as you look around, seeing that practically nothing has changed from when you left.

"Well, you wanted to talk, so let's save that for later, why don't we?" Itto picked up all of your luggage, reminding you of his pride of not making two trips just to transport something, prompting you to smile as you nodded at his suggestion.

Your smile lit up the house he found so lonely while you were gone, so naturally, he noticed you smiling at him, and it brought a light feeling to his heart. "What? Missed your strong oni carrying everything for you?"

Your oni... Is he really?

Your smile faded a bit, but you made sure to catch yourself so he wouldn't notice, "Yeahh, I really did..."

...

"So you're the maiden from Narukami right? The one in love with an oni?" You caught the condecending tone of another Shrine Maiden as she spoke to you.

You decided to ignore the way she spoke to you. "Yes, that's right! How can I be of assistance?"

"Mind throwing this to the garbage, just some useless junk mail." She placed a sizable amount of crumbled and shredded paper onto your hands. "Thanks." After giving you the most ungrateful thanks, she walked away giggling with her friend.

You merely sighed, heading for the trash can, pouring the paper in the bin. Just as you were about to walk away, you noticed something on the paper... Ushi's signiture hoof print.

With a gasp, you grabbed it and read the letter that was at such a sorry state. The letter was light hearted, yet when you read it, you almost broke down right next to the garbage. You scooped up the rest of the paper you just threw away and hurriedly ran back to your quarters. Most of the letters are in pieces, but you still needed to see what they say.

After two months in Watatsumi, you only received their letters then.

...

You're finally back home, the suffocating air the Watatsumi Shrine Maidens breathe no longer in your lungs. You took another look of the house as Itto carried your things into your shared room.

In a tired manner, you sat down on the couch, and Ushi immediately took a seat next to you. "Hello, my little bull..." You cooed affectionately, patting his head, which he all responded to positively.

Everything is where it should be... so normal and so familiar.

"Darling! I have a surprise for you! I almost forgot since, ya know, you came unex-" Itto's excited voice and enthusiastic movements halted when he saw you sitting down on the couch. "Y/N...?"

Your head was down, small sobs came from your throat, and he can tell that you're trying yo hold them in. You curled up into a ball, sobs getting louader as you can no longer hold such a pain in your heart.

"Itto, please... I need you..." At your call, the oni dropped his gift to the ground and hurried to your side before pulling you to his chest. "Let me stay here..."

"Love, it's okay... I'm right here. And you can stay right here too." He kissed the top of your head, rubbing you shoulder to calm you down.

"Don't leave me all alone. Do-Don't forget about me..." You were begging, clinging onto him. Hoping he wouldn't walk out the door without a thought.

You wrapped your arms around him, sitting on his lap before burrying your face on his neck. The concerned oni didn't completely understand, but he understood that you needed him, so he's going to be there, he isn't leaving you alone in your home this time.

...

"Feeling better?" With a grin, Itto placed a cup of hot chocolate in front of you. The sight of you nodding left him feeling relieved.

"I'm right here, darling, alright?"

"Do you still love me?" The oni was shocked by the suddenness of your question. You looked at him, expecting an answer.

After composing himself, Itto stood in front of you at the dinner table, giving you the same look. "I fucking love you too much for you to start questioning my love."

"But you gave me a reason to... question it..." You pointed out sheepishly.

The man you love sighed, "I know, and I'm hoping... if you let me, I can make up for that..." He then proceeded to place a gift in front of you, right next to the hot chocolate.

"My very very late birthday present?" You gestured at the gift with a smile.

You felt in your heart that... you should trust his words, to let him prove his love. So you will.

"So you did receive my letters..." He teased right back.

"It's a long story..." You sighed, looking at the present in front of you.

"And I'll be hapy to hear it, love. Because I will always be here." Itto walked up to you and proceeded to wipe the lone tear that fell from your eye.

You stood up and jumped at him, hugging him immediately. "I'm really sorry, Itto... I shouldn't have left."

Tears yet again fell to your cheeks, "But when you forgot about my birthday, about our special day... about me..." You recalled the many nights you spent without him by your side.

"It made me... questionn your love..."

The love of your life hugged you back, letting you lean on his chest. "Then let me ask you now... Do you still love me?"

You chuckled against him.

"I fucking love you too much for you to start questioning my love." He couldn't help but let out the biggest grin when you said that.

The oni let go of you, before bringing the gift to your attention. "Since you love me so much, you'll let me take you out on a date and wear this, right?"

As he opened the box, you saw a necklace with a pendant that in a shape of a bull... he knows you too well. Yes, this is the beautiful jade necklace, it is made out of jade, soooo...

You hear a moo at the your feet, making you look down. "Oh, and here comes Ushi." Itto bantered with the idea of him and the bull being competitors for your love.

Ushi presented to you a wilting flower, along with the purest eyes you can see on a bull.

"Ohh, my sweet darling, thank you so much!"

Itto scoffed, "He literally plucked it out of the neighbor's garden, he almost cried when he was being shouted at."

"Ahh, Ushi has faced such a great trial for this flower, I appreciate it even more."

As the two compete for your love just like old times, the hot chocolate on the table goes cold.

...

"Uh, Shinobu..." The boat of the rest of the Arataki Gang docked at Watasumi Island. "What are we doing here again?" Mamoru questioned the green haired girl.

"Apparently, there's a problem about receiving mail in the Sangonomiya Shrine, and that's why Miss Y/N took so long to get back home." Kuki Shinobu clarified. "Miss Yae asked us to take care of it. Think of this as part of the rescue mission you were talking about."

"Yeahh, alright! Let's kick some mail troblemakers butts!" Akira exclaimed.

"Yep, that's exactly what Miss Yae asked for. This is probably the only Shrine Maiden related thing I like, except for Miss Y/N, of course."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

After a year with no update...

I was done with a lot of things on my plate (thankfully) so I thought, why not pick up an old project :3

Thanks so much for everyone's patience, for waiting for part 2 of this story for such a long time, I appreciate you guys (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Tags: @l0diluvs @iiyumii @lockem @t4m3-simp @eliciana @freezombielover

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

may you please make a part 2 to drunk call??🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 I can't end like that😔

PART TWO

jude bellingham x exgf!reader

PART ONE DRUNK CALL

PART THREE DRUNK CALL

a/n: this was (and took) sooo long that I had to make another part! And thank you for requesting the second part, I had so much fun continuing the story!

Jude never called.

You waited, even though you knew it was foolish. You waited through long, empty days, staring at your phone like it held the answer to all the questions you couldn't let go of. Wondering a lot of things, all of them having to do with Jude.

The first day after that night, you barely slept, listening to every quiet sound in your apartment, convinced that maybe, just maybe, you’d hear his knock at the door. On the second day, you kept your phone in your hand, glancing down every few minutes, your heart leaping at every notification, every small vibration. And by the end of the week, you found yourself laughing bitterly at your own persistence, at how much you’d let yourself hope, even when you knew better.

You had been telling yourself, every morning as you woke up, that that day would be different. That you wouldn’t let your mind wander to that quiet promise he’d made, his voice so soft you could still hear it, could still feel the warmth of his hand in yours as he’d said it. You knew it wasn’t true even as he’d said it—knew he wouldn’t call, couldn’t call, because that’s what breaking up meant. Still, hope clung to your heart, relentless, like some foolish thing.

So you waited.

You waited through the hours that turned into days, each one bringing fresh reminders that he was moving on, that his life was a current pulling him further and further from you. You’d check your phone, not expecting to see his name but hoping all the same, holding your breath every time it buzzed. And each time, your heart sank a little deeper.

But you waited still.

Jude didn´t call.

You tried to text him. Countless times. In those late, lonely hours, your fingers would hover over the screen, struggling to find words that could hold even a fraction of everything you felt. It was always something casual, something lighthearted, as if you could fool him—and yourself—into thinking you were fine, as if you didn’t feel like your heart was breaking all over again each time you realized he was really gone.

"Hey, just wanted to check in. Hope you’re good." (Delete.) Too casual.

"Miss you. Just… thought you should know." (Delete.) Too vulneable.

"Hi, I saw your last game, you were amazing!" (Delete.) Too nice?

Every message felt hollow before it even left your fingers. What good would it do, anyway? He’d made it clear in his silence. You’d both known it couldn’t work, that your lives were pulling you two in opposite directions. He’d warned you as much, his words gentle but firm, saying things like, “We’ve got so much ahead of us, love. You’ve got your path, and I’ve got mine. If life wants, we´ll find each other again.” But he’d said it like it was for you, like letting you go was some form of love you weren’t supposed to understand.

And as the days turned to weeks, you started to believe he was right.

Honestly, you didn’t even know how to feel. Sad, angry, disappointed, embarrassed?

Each emotion tangled into a painful knot in your chest, and you couldn’t tell which feeling hurt the most. Sad, because you missed him with an ache so deep it felt like part of you was missing. Angry, because he’d let you go so easily, without a single call, without even trying. Disappointed, because you had clung to the quiet hope that maybe he still cared enough to reach out. Embarrassed, because despite everything, you’d allowed yourself to hold on, to wait like a fool for something that would never happen.

Yet, the world wouldn’t let you forget him. Every corner you turned, you saw him—on billboards, in match highlights, in advertisements... He was everywhere, as though the universe itself had made a cruel joke of your pain, forcing you to watch him live on, shining as bright as ever. You saw him laughing on a teammate’s story, his smile warm and carefree. You saw him in interviews, composed and confident, speaking about his achievements and his ambitions as if nothing else mattered. He looked fine, perfectly whole, like you’d never been a part of his life at all.

Each day, the silence grew louder, the hope dimmer, until your patience twisted into bitterness, then resignation. You had to live. You had to let him go, even if every part of you was still holding on. And so, with a heavy heart, you made the only choice you could: you blocked him, a decision that felt both too small and impossibly final. Then, you went to your contacts, your thumb hovering over his name, the one you still couldn’t bring yourself to eliminate. This time, instead of calling him, you did something different.

With a deep breath, you pressed delete, erasing the last way of contacting him you had. You knew his number by heart, every digit burned into your memory, as if letting it go would somehow let him slip further away. But maybe that’s what you needed—to let go, truly let go, so you could finally breathe. Even if you tried to call him or add him again, you had several figures to let you rethink before committing a huge mistake.

Afterward, you sat alone, staring into the silence of your tiny apartment, feeling the weight of the finality settle around you. You ran a hand over your face, feeling the exhaustion from pretending, from hoping, from clinging to a future you could never have.

On the other side of that silence, Jude felt your absence as a steady, relentless ache that he couldn’t shake. In the quiet spaces between training, in the dead of night after a long game, he felt it most—the weight of your absence, the hollow space where you’d once been. He knew he should call, that he should reach out, hear your voice one last time. But he couldn’t bear it. He knew you´d wait for him if he gave you even the faintest reason to. And it terrified him, the thought that you’d hold onto him, sacrificing parts of your own life for the sake of his.

So he let you go, telling himself it was the right thing to do, that this was the most unselfish choice he could make. But every time he tried to believe it, he felt like he was betraying himself, betraying the love you’d shared.

He tried to lose himself in his career, in the game that had always been his one constant. But no victory, no goal, no applause could drown out the emptiness he carried inside. He wanted to tell you, to let you know that his silence wasn’t indifference, that his heart was breaking just as much as yours. But every time he picked up his phone, he’d set it back down, the words he wanted to say sticking in his throat.

He saw the world as a series of checkmarks and achievements, but none of it felt as bright, as warm, as real as those quiet moments he’d had with you. Those nights lying together, the way you’d laugh and roll your eyes at his bad jokes, the way you’d look at him as if he were more than he believed himself to be. He missed you in a way he didn’t know how to explain, in a way he didn’t know how to live with. But he’d made a choice, and he’d told himself he would stick to it.

Months passed, and you did your best to move forward, carving out a new life, piece by piece, in the wake of his absence. You kept yourself busy—classes, late-night studying, juggling shifts to cover tuition. It was exhausting, but you almost welcomed the tiredness; it kept you grounded, kept you from lingering in the past. While studying, to pay your debts, you worked in a prestigious catering company, the kind that only served high-profile events, but even as your skills sharpened and your responsibilities grew, your heart never felt as full as it once had.

You’d see glimpses of Jude’s life in the rare moments you allowed yourself to look. Despite blocking him, it was impossible not to know what he was up to—his success was plastered everywhere, his goals, his accolades, his bright future. Each headline was a bitter reminder that he was out there, rising, while you remained here, trying to pick up the pieces.

One day, your manager pulled you and your coworkers aside and briefed you about an upcoming event, hinting at its significance. “It’s one of the biggest events we’ll handle all year, so be at your best. We’re talking global importance,” she said, eyes alight with excitement. She was sparse on the details, but the way she spoke made it clear that this wasn’t just another upscale gathering. You nodded along, more focused on memorizing the itinerary and service details than wondering who would be there.

The day arrived, and you went about your work, clad in a crisp uniform, doing your best to stay professional. The space was dazzling—high ceilings, crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow, and tables meticulously set with silverware that gleamed under the lights. You were given a tray of fizzy and sparkling drinks, instructed to serve as the event unfolded.

That’s when you felt the electric buzz in the air, a shift in the atmosphere that suggested someone important had arrived. You saw a few of your colleagues exchanging glances, eyes widening as if they’d just spotted a celebrity. Curious, you glanced around, only to see a coworker hurriedly approaching you, eyes wide and speechless as he leaned in close.

“It’s Real Madrid,” he whispered, and your heart dropped.

Real Madrid.

Your hand tightened around the tray as your mind started racing. Real Madrid was here, in this very room. Which meant…

You felt your heart stutter, panic settling deep in your chest as the weight of that realization washed over you. You knew Jude would be here. He had to be. It was a big event, a high-profile event, one he wouldn’t miss. And now, after all those months of silence, after all the nights you’d spent waiting, he was right here, closer than he’d been in what felt like a lifetime.

You felt your feet move as if they were no longer your own, your body frozen between the urge to stay and the overwhelming need to flee. You tried to steady your breathing, tried to tell yourself that it was just another job, that you’d handle this as professionally as any other event. But the mere thought of seeing him again, of standing so close that you could hear his voice, see his face—how could you possibly prepare yourself for that?

Your teammate’s eyes were on you, watching the shock that must have painted your face, and you felt a sense of dread twist in your stomach. You wanted to say something, to ask if he’d seen Jude specifically, if you’d have to serve him. But even opening your mouth to speak felt impossible, the words caught in your throat. Instead, you swallowed hard, pressing your lips together as you took a shaky breath.

Somehow, you had to power through this.

[whorergal]

LOVERS THAT WENT WRONG

summary: instead of quinn, ethan is the one who “dies” in the apartment scene and leaves you heartbroken

warnings: description of blood, gore & murder. language (cussing). it follows the plot loosely.

pairings: ethan landry x fem!reader

authors note: hiiii i haven’t written bc i’ve been uninspired but im forcing myself to write this one :-) this idea has been in my head for awhile and i just need to get it out before i forget sooo yeah :3 hope you enjoy! i might break this into two parts btw (also should i do a happy or angsty ending?)

——————————————————————————————

You walked inside your room with a wince. Since the recent Ghostface attack both Sam and Tara endured, they came up with the bright idea to invite everyone over your shared apartment. They thought with everyone in the same place it would eliminate the possibility of them being attacked again, or worse, ultimately killed. There was barely enough room in the apartment to house four girls so adding Chad, Mindy and Anika to the mix was chaotic.

Thankfully, Quinn was gone for the night. Apparently she had a one night stand that wanted to meet up so she left, despite Sam's excessive disapproval.

Tara was in the kitchen with Chad and Mindy, chatting and laughing very loud. The reason you found it annoying at the moment was because you forced your boyfriend, Ethan, to come over while he was trying to study for his Econ exam.

He was the one person you couldn't risk losing so if that meant you made him fail his exam because he couldn't focus, then yeah, that's what you'll do.

"Are they being too loud?" you asked him.

"If I say yes, could you shut them up?" He looked up wearing a sarcastic smile, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

You chuckled breathlessly, taking a seat beside him on your bed. "I tried, believe me."

Ethan sighed, dropping his pen. "It's fine. I mean, I have an A in the class—one exam can't hurt…right?"

"How about this," you interrupted him before he began to ramble, handing him the granola bar he asked for. "I go out there and try to calm them down. I'll give you the space you need as well."

"Well, you can bother me all you want," he blurted. His cheeks turned red when he saw you look at him in surprise.

You leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on his lips. Then you peppered kisses all over his face which made him scrunch his nose. "I love you and I want you to pass this exam. The least I could do is help you get some silence. It's my fault you're here in the first place."

"Hey, don't say that," he shushed you. "I wanted to come to see my beautiful girlfriend. Don't worry that pretty head of yours about me. I'll be fine." His words meant more because he knew how paranoid you'd become.

"Promise?"

Ethan paused to smile. "Promise."

He kissed you very briefly, looking at you in adoration which made you blush. The perfect moment was ruined when Mindy's roar bellowed all throughout the house.

"Stop! Don't! This is my favorite shirt, you asshole!"

You groaned in annoyance. "I'll take care of that. You stay here and study. I'll check up on you in a few."

"Okay, baby." He laughed, finding you adorable whenever you were mad. "Don't hurt them."

"No promises there."

You heard him laugh one last time before you exited, shutting your door behind you. Anika sat on the couch, giving you an annoyed look as well, seeing as she was trying to read her book.

"I tried to tell them," she said.

Nodding, you ventured over toward the kitchen where the four were all laughing. Tara noticed you first and dropped her smile, already knowing what was to come. You had just gotten done complaining about how loud they were and she was sure you were coming back to do just that.

Chad, however, was too oblivious to notice as he jumped up from his spot at your appearance. "There she is! Core fucking five in the house!" You hit him, making him wince. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Ethan's trying to study and you're yelling," you reprimanded him like he was a little kid.

"Shit. He's still doing that?"

Tara stifled a laugh while Mindy rolled her eyes.

"What's got you guys all rowdy, anyway?" You walked over to the pot that was brewing, taking a wooden spoon to sip on the suspicious liquid.

"Well, first Chad gave us a nickname to which I obviously disagreed with and he tried to splash me with soup," Mindy explained as she leaned against the counter.

"Core five." Chad smiled widely.

You furrowed your brows. "Isn't it core four?"

"Well, you know…" he trailed before he shook his head. "Look, it doesn't matter. There's five of us so I declare core five is now an official thing."

"You can't just give yourself a nickname, dingus," Mindy retorted, being the first to argue with her brother at any chance she got.

"Oh, of course I can, dingus, because I just did. Core five, up top!" Chad exclaimed with less volume then before, raising his hand in front of Mindy's face.

"No." She shook her head.

He turned to Tara. "Down low."

"Get that away from me."

"Please, for the love of God," he begged when he rose his hand toward Sam.

She smiled, but still didn't make a move.

He then turned to you. "If you don't high-five me, I'm going to scream."

"Don't do it." Mindy interrupted.

"You know, I would like some more respect from the fellow members of the core five." He gave up, crossing his arms.

"Please, stop calling us that," Tara pleaded, wincing.

"Guys," Anika's voice called but no one heard her, the sound of your laughter and teasing of Chad overpowering her. She dropped her book, getting up. "Guys! Stop. Listen."

You all silenced in curiosity. When you listened to Anika's orders, there was a loud crash heard in your room. You didn't immediately think of Ghostface just because there was no way they would be ballsy enough to attack someone with multiple people still in the apartment. You thought, at least.

"It's just Ethan. He must've dropped something." You calmed their nerves, turning around to get a water bottle from the fridge. "I'll go check on him."

Anika nodded, slowly sitting back down as she forced herself to believe your words.

Then, everyone's phones went off. You didn't have yours because you left it inside your room so you peered to look at Chad's phone who leaned it toward you to see.

The image caused your heart to fall to your stomach.

Danny, your next door neighbor, had shared a photo to everyone of Ethan being manhandled by Ghostface. It was then that his screaming filled the silent apartment and your flight instincts kicked in.

You dropped your water, running straight to your room in the attempt to help him. "Ethan!"

Right before you could open the door, Sam pulled you back very roughly. You lost your balance, falling into her arms as she held you close. You started to fight against her but she shushed you which had you pausing in confusion.

Chad had Tara in his arms, who was following straight after you in order to aid you while Anika was pushing Mindy behind her. When you all focused on the noise, you realized that…there was no noise. The photo echoed in your mind like a throbbing reminder to what was happening behind the door but the eerie quietness of what should be filled with screams of pain caused you to relax in Sam's arms.

"Ethan," you whispered shakily.

You pushed Sam away from you, getting up and shoving the door open. You knew the risk. You knew going in there would only cause more casualties but you couldn't find anything in you to care. All you cared about was Ethan.

"Y/N, no!" you heard them all shout at once.

Once you pushed the door open, simultaneously, Ethan's body was thrown on top of you. His dead weight caused you to lose balance again and fall to the floor, hitting your head on the wooden surface.

Then, reality sunk in and you let out a horrific scream that sent chills down everyone's body at the sight of Ethan's lifeless eyes staring right into you. His blood was coating your entire body, his body still warm but his face pale. His brown eyes held no emotion and his lips were untouched.

You wanted this to be a joke. You wanted him to wake up and say he was just kidding even if it would be a shitty prank to pull on someone. You wanted to hear him say your name, or hear his chuckle whenever he laughed at his own jokes. You felt tears pouring out of your eyes subconsciously. You couldn't even find the strength in you to push his body off of you because you didn't want to.

A strong pair of hands gripped you suddenly, forcing you up and causing you to toss Ethan's body carelessly to the side, making his arm to hit the floor motionlessly as his face was now staring at the ceiling.

It was there that you briefly got a good look at the wounds on his body. Blood was smeared all over his stomach that you couldn't even see the light blue that used to be the color of his shirt. You could see some wounds in his stomach still gushing fresh blood too. It was also splattered all over his face and drenched his pants as well. You felt sick to your stomach.

"Ethan, no," you whimpered very desperately.

Tara pushed you forward, forcing you out of the building and down the stairs. You were completely in their control as every limb in your body went numb. Chad was practically carrying you at that rate because you couldn't build the power to even stand.

It was when Anika's screams echoed the empty stairwell that kicked you back into gear. Throwing him off guard, you managed to shove him away from you which sent both him and Tara falling against the wall harshly.

You rushed back up the stairs and ran face first into the closed door. You tried to open it but it was locked. No matter how hard you try to shove yourself against it, it wouldn't budge. Not only was it locking you out from not being able to grieve over your dead boyfriend but helping Mindy, Anika and Sam, who were now trapped inside with Ghostface.

"Shit," Tara gasped as she realized.

You both pounded on the door, as if expecting Ghostface to happily answer and let you two in. It was silent on their end which only made you three more paranoid.

"Do you have your keys?!" Chad asked.

"No, I left them inside!" Tara exclaimed in worry, turning back around to continue pounding on the door.

"Look, we have to go get help," Chad tried his best to reason rightfully, his response valid. "If we stay out here, we'll only waste more time."

"Oh, god…" you trailed your words, becoming weak again as you looked down at your hands. "His blood. He's dead. He's actually gone. I can't—"

"Hey, I got you," Chad whispered, pulling you into his arms as he guided you and Tara down the stairs. He wanted to worry about Mindy but he needed to be strong for you two, who seemed in worse shape than he was.

You don't remember how but Chad got you three down the stairs safely and called for help. The police arrived too late as when they went up to help them, Sam and Mindy had made it across the building inside Danny's apartment without Anika, who succumb to her wounds while being thrown off the ladder that they climbed on.

Mindy, Tara and Chad both sat in one ambulance while you sat in your own, wanting to be left alone.

You stopped crying after an hour but the pained feeling was still alive in your chest. What was worse was that you weren't allowed back inside your apartment to get his things as it was now a crime scene so you sat in thought. You had nothing left of him. Just his blood on your clothes.

When you realized this, you began to cry again. You dropped your head into your knees, curling up against the wall of the ambulance as police scattered around.

You brought your head up when you felt someone sit beside you. Ready to tell them to leave you alone, you saw Mindy offering her blanket to you. She was the only one who understood what you were going through so you accepted it and leaned to cry on her shoulder.

While she remained emotionless, you cried for the both of you. She just held you close, rubbing your arm.

"Y/N, Mindy," the voice that belonged to Quinn snapped you into reality. "I'm so sorry."

"Step the fuck back," Mindy warned, tightening her grip around you. "You're at the top of my list."

"I'm sorry, alright?" Quinn whispered, but she looked at you very specifically when saying that. "I'm sorry."

You gave her a forced smile, watching as she was pulled away by Sam. It gave you and Mindy space to grieve.

[pxndorasdream]

Experiment 101 — Part 1

AgedUp! Neteyam x Fem!Human! Reader

Words: 3K

Warnings: Mention of neglectful parents, kidnapping (I’m still learning on how to tag these, so please tell me if I’m missing something)

Summary: Y/N is kidnapped by the RDA and then brought to Pandora where they use her and three other people as lab rats, but can they escape the sky people? And what if some Na’vi brothers find her unconscious in the forest?

Notes: Heeey, sooo this is the first story I post here, I hope you like it <33 English is not my first language so have mercy on me. Also, Neteyam and Lo’ak doesn’t appear till the end, this is more of like an introduction to Y/N and what happened to her. I’ve already planned a few more parts, so let me know if you’re interested ;)

3rd Person POV

Proofread ig

Life on Earth was harsh. There was no bright colors, only the gray of the concrete surrounding everything. It was sad. The place that had been once paradise on Earth, was now pure concrete.

War was something people were used to, fighting over anything. Like I said, it was sad.

But sometimes life wasn’t that bad when you have a loving family around. Sure, the lack of nature and the constant war surrounding humans was depressing, but once you’re with someone you love -and loves you back- all the problems seem smaller.

But unfortunately, that was not Y/N’s case. She was alone. She had no one. Well, she still had her parents, but they meant nothing to her. They were both just strangers to the girl.

They didn’t even noticed when their daughter disappeared for several days, only returning home to grab a few things and made her way out once again.

They also didn’t noticed the bruises that formed all around her body, like I said, they weren’t parents of the year.

The truth is, she was kidnapped by a group of men. And not only her, there were a few other people in the same situation as her.

There were two boys, maybe around their late teens, and another girl that seemed a bit older than them.

“What the hell do you want from us!?” One of the guys asked, the blonde one, more specifically.

The masked men that kidnapped them didn’t say a word. They just remained quiet, causing fear on the four hostages.

“Can somebody tell us what the fuck is happening?” The oldest girl said this time.

But again, nobody answered.

A few minutes later, the men left the room, leaving the four victims alone. The other boy stood up and tried to open the door, but to no one’s surprise, it was locked.

“Hey” Y/N heard the blonde boy talking, but she didn’t pay much attention, being consumed in fear of what possibly will happen to them. “Hey” She heard again, turning her head to meet the boy’s gaze.

“Yeah?” She replied a bit uncomfortable.

“What’s your name?” He asked. The girl looked at him in disbelief. Is he seriously trying to make small talk while being kidnapped? “C’mon, I mean, we’re all locked up here against our will, so maybe we should at least know each other's names, right?”

She looked to the others, noticing they were paying attention to the blonde guy. She sighed. “I’m Y/N”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N, I’m Cameron” He said, then looking at the two people left.

“My name’s Madison” The oldest girl said, looking a little afraid.

“Well, I guess that only leaves me… I’m Thomas”

Soon enough the men were back, but with a new person joining them. It was a woman. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, I’m General Ardmore, and I have an offer for the four of you” She said with no expression on her face.

“And for that you had to kidnap us?” The blonde boy, now known as Cameron, replied with a mocking tone. What on Earth is this guy doing?

“Shut it” The woman demanded. “You’ll be grateful that I took you out of your shitty lives” She paused for a second. “I assume you have heard about some planet called Pandora, am I right?” The four of them nodded. “Well, we need some… volunteers, if you want to put it that way. We have some experiments we’d like to try”

“By volunteers you mean us, I guess” Y/N dared to speak for the first time.

“You’re correct, miss Y/N” Ardmore responded with a sarcastic grin. “The four of you are alone. You have no one, so I guessed you won’t be missed if we take you to Pandora”

What a bitch, Y/N thought to herself, but the woman was correct, at least in her case, no one would notice she’s missing.

“And what will we have to do?” Thomas asked.

“Don’t worry about it, for now, we leave in 24 hours, in the meantime, you’ll be granted the opportunity to go back home and grab a few personal things for your survival up there, but don’t even think about escaping, because we will found you and you won’t like what’s next, am I making myself clear?” All of them nodded, but the woman wasn’t satisfied. “I will repeat myself one more time and I want you to answer me right… Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes ma’am”

“Fine, escort them to their homes and bring them back to me in less than 12 hours, okay?” She then asked the men guarding the place.

“Yes ma’am”

A few hours later, they were boarding an actual spaceship, every little kid dream, but it wasn’t in a way they enjoyed.

Everything surrounding them had the initials ‘RDA’, making the girl wonder what that meant. Y/N then walked towards some strange looking thing, it kinda look like a modern coffin.

“Alright, this is a cryosleep capsule, you’re going to get in one of these and sleep till we get to Pandora, okay?” A scientist explained to them what was going to happen next.

“So, how does this exactly work?” Madison asked with curiosity.

“These things basically freezes you and that maintains you alive and well for long periods of time, when you’re in cryo state you don’t dream, and don’t need food or water, it’s like you’re being put in pause” He explained. “It basically keeps people in perfect shape, they don’t age a second, it’s quite awesome”

“And why do we need to be in one of these?” Y/N asked.

“It’s because the trip to Pandora last about six Earth years, and we don’t want our people being six years older that when they left”

“Six years?!” Cameron asked in shock.

“Yeah, blondie, don’t you know how space works?” Y/N asked him and a small laugh slipped through her lips.

“We’ll, then, hop in.” The scientist told them, the four of them doing it. Y/N laid down in the cryo capsule, the only thing in mind was hoping her life in Pandora would be a little better than on Earth, but oh, how wrong was she.

It seemed to have been only a blink of an eye for her and the three others, but after six years of traveling —which felt like a second to the four young guys—, they were arriving at Pandora.

Well, not exactly. They arrived at the RDA base, which was exactly like Earth, the gray color predominating the place. But surrounding that boring looking facility, a huge forest was in sight. Seeing the color green for the first time in quite a while, Y/N thought maybe life in Pandora wasn’t going to be so bad.

She was wrong. Life in Pandora was hell, no, it was worse than hell. Or at least on the RDA base. She would rather be sent to hell to serve Satan himself than stay there for one more day.

Being an experiment to the RDA people was horrible. She was in a dark room with 5 cells, one for each person, and one free. They were glass cells, and someone was always watching them. If it weren’t the scientists trying to observe the effect of the serum they previously injected in them, it was some guard.

They were never alone. It was hell. They didn’t know what that serum was supposed to do, but they came to the conclusion it wasn’t working, every three days some new serum was injected into their body, and each one had different side effects. It was torture. They were in pain for the next few days when the serum entered their body. They were just torturing them, there was no effective serum, so they kept going on. It was killing them.

But one day, after 2 years in Pandora, the serum seemed to have worked. The scientists seemed happy, and so did General Ardmore. They wanted to try and confirm the serum was finally correct, so the RDA organized a trip to the forests of Pandora.

A few days later, the soldiers were getting ready to enter the deadly forest, some scientists came as well, just to assure the well-being of the four people, well, not their well-being but to control the effects of the serum on them.

The four of them were given a mask, which someone later explained was for them to be able to breathe outside.

“I feel like fucking royalty walking with all these guys protecting us” Cameron said to Y/N while walking toward the forest.

She raised her eyebrow at him. “Are you for real?” She asked. “They are not protecting us, they are just making sure their little lab rats are ok with the serum”

He shrugged. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood, jeez”

Y/N rolled her eyes but a small smile escaped her lips. “Sure, whatever”

Their hands were handcuffed in front of their body, just to make sure no one tried to escape, so they had limited mobility. ���Ok, we’re here. Let’s get it done.” Y/N heard a soldier talk. Then they all stopped walking, all of them with their eyes pointed at the four people. “Take out your masks” He said again.

“What? No!” Thomas replied angrily. What the hell, aren’t these supposed to be to not die while outside?

“There’s no way we’re taking these off, we’ll die!” This time it was Y/N talking. “You said Pandora air is toxic to humans, and that just breathing it for a second will make us faint, and in four more seconds, die?!”

One of the scientists sighed. “Get to your main mission, we will take care of them” She told the soldiers accompanying them, "We'll see you back here in 20 minutes, okay?”

The soldier rolled his eyes. “Yes ma’am” He said and later they went further into the forest, only leaving the four guys with some scientists and a couple of soldiers.

“Do you know what the serum is supposed to do?” The scientist asked. The four of them shook their heads. “This serum is supposed to make humans breath Pandora air without any fatal consequences, and you just happen to be our test subjects” She grinned. “So please, do as I said so and take. of. the. masks” She said losing her patience.

None of them obeyed. They weren’t idiots, what if the serum doesn’t work? “Take their masks off.” The woman now said to the soldiers. They obeyed and they walked towards Y/N and the others.

“Please, don’t” Madison said with fear in her voice.

“Shut it” The woman replied.

The men took Thomas and Cameron masks first, and it seemed like they were holding their breaths. Next, they took Madison and Y/N’s. The two girls doing the same as the boys.

“Breathe” She commanded. Neither of them did it. “Breath. Now!” But still, no one obeyed. But humans can only hold their breath for a while. After one minute, Madison took a breath, followed by Thomas, then Y/N and finally Cameron.

We’re going to die, Y/N thought, but after 30 seconds, they were still alive and felt okay, whatsoever.

The scientists started to cheer, still with their gazes on the four people in front of them. The serum had worked. Finally.

But the sound of gunshots followed by some screams wiped the smile off their faces.

“What is happening?” the woman asked the soldiers, but they only shrugged, pointing their own guns to the source of the sound.

“Withdrawal, withdrawal” They heard someone shout, shortly after, the soldiers from before were running towards them. “We have to go, now!”

“The natives found us! Withdrawal!” Another soldier shout just before being pierced by an arrow.

The sound of gunshots and screaming stunned Y/N, who was only looking at what was happening. She didn’t know what to do. A hand grabbing her forearm caught her attention. It was one of the scientists, but she didn’t want to go with them.

What was worse? Going back to the RDA base and being a fucking lab rat for another two years, or getting lost on Pandora’s forest and maybe being killed by an animal or some natives? She definitely didn’t want to be trapped on the base for one more second, so she freed herself from the scientist's grasp.

The other three saw this and tried to do the same, but only two of them were successful, Madison couldn’t lost the scientist that held her, and she was taken once again.

A few seconds later, no RDA people were left there, only Y/N, Cameron and Thomas. The gunshots and screaming stopped, the silence was restored and the only sound that could be heard was the wind going through the leaves of the tall trees.

“So… I guess we’re free” Cameron started the conversation.

“I think so” Thomas replied.

Y/N watched the two men. “I wouldn’t call this ‘being free’, we’re just lost in the forest. What are we supposed to do now?”

A new sound was heard by the girl. It was something moving on the trees. “We are so dead” Cameron said, he also heard the sound. “It was nice to meet you, guys, although I would’ve liked more to have met you in other circumstances”

“Yeah, maybe meeting you while being kidnapped and used as lab rats wasn’t the best, but it is what it is, now we’re going to die in some weird animal hands, so I guess we lived a shitty life and we’re going to die in a shitty way” Thomas replied.

Y/N looked at them annoyed. “Guys, stop making things even sadder!” She wanted to say something more but her chest started to hurt.

“Y/N! What is happening?” Cameron asked worriedly, but soon his own chest started to hurt too. Thomas was in the same situation as them. The three of them grabbed their own chest with their hands still handcuffed, trying to breathe, but it only hurt more. They began to lose consciousness and soon enough, they were lying unconscious on the ground.

It seemed the serum didn’t work once again.

From the top of the trees, two young Na’vi watched the humans lying unconscious on the forest floor. “Bro, we have to go there” Lo’ak said with his gaze still on the humans.

“Are you mad? What if they wake up and try to kill us?” Neteyam asked, looking at his little brother like he was crazy.

“C’mon bro, haven’t you noticed? They don’t have an oxygen mask, they are unconscious! They won’t wake up, and if they do, we knocked them out again”

“Fine, let’s go!” The oldest said, making his brother smile. “But…” Lo’ak’s smile faded. “We call dad right after” Neteyam said.

Lo’ak rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, whatever, lets just go”

The young Na’vi came closer to the three human bodies lying unconscious. They were quite curious. They saw them surviving more than half a minute breathing Pandora's air, there was something weird about them.

“Did you hear when they said they were kidnapped?” Lo’ak asked his older brother, who nodded.

“Yeah, and that they were lab rats or something like that” Neteyam replied while looking closely at them.

“We definitely should call dad” The youngest said. “Even if he gets mad for not returning with the others right away the soldiers left”

“I’m on it” Neteyam touched his communicator. “Dad, we have some humans here, they are unconscious”

“What do they look like?” The oldest asked through the communicator. “And why are you still there?”

Lo’ak rolled his eyes. “I told you'' He whispered to his older brother.

“There are three of them, two guys and a girl, they look young, maybe like 19 or 20, and they’re handcuffed”

“What? Handcuffed?”

“Yes, and we heard them talking right before they were knocked out, they said some things I think you’ll find interesting” Lo’ak intervened.

“Fine, what’s your location?” Jake asked his sons.

“A few miles away from the base” Neteyam replied.

“Fine, I’m coming, do not move and make sure they don’t wake up” Their father ordered.

“Copy sir” The two youngest Sully boys replied. “What do you think lab rats meant?” The youngest asked. “I mean, I know what lab rats mean, but what do you think the RDA was testing with them?”

“I guess we’ll find out sooner or later”

Jake Sully arrived with a few other warriors at the spot his sons were waiting for him. “We’ll talk later” He said, both boys knowing they were in trouble for not going back home after they attacked the sky people. “They look young”

“I told you” Lo’ak said, gaining a bad look from his father and a hit in the head by his brother.

“We’ll take them to our base, have Norm and Max check on them, and when they wake up, we’ll question them” Jake said to his warriors, who nodded. “They aren’t wearing oxygen masks, are they even alive?” He seemed to finally notice the obvious.

“They are pretty much alive, sir. We’ve heard them saying they were kidnapped by the RDA and that they were just lab rats to them, I guess that has something to do with them not wearing a mask” Neteyam replied with a serious face, gaining a mocking look from his brother.

“Fine, take them to the base” Three warriors lift the sky people and started to get back. “And you two are coming with me” Jake said to his sons.

He was angry at them for not following direct orders, but he was more intrigued by the unconscious humans he just saw, and he wasn’t the only one. Neteyam and Lo’ak couldn’t leave their minds either.

Let me know if you want Part 2! ;)

[jackassbrainrot]

Could we possibly get a bratty Knoxville with a possessive reader? Like the Bam one you wrote 😳

all yours [knoxville x f!reader]

desc: Your dear boyfriend gets a bit too flirty during an interview, whatever shall you do with him?

a/n: finally some knox stuff for you guys!! I've been slacking on knox fics so bad, sorry! but bottom knox lives in my head rent free sooo

warnings: smut, possessive behavior, light bondage, brat taming, unprotected sex, d/s dynamic, johnny calls reader ma'am and he gets called a good boy once

Everyone knew Johnny was a flirt, it was no secret, and you'd been quite tolerant of it, but even you had your limits. He'd been doing press for a new movie he was filming and during a particular interview, your boyfriend seemed to be more interested in the interviewer than the interview. She was absolutely gorgeous, there was no denying that, but the way his eyes raked over her body combined with the seemingly never ending string of compliments pouring out of his mouth made your blood boil. He looked over at you and you could see that he knew exactly what he was doing by that cocky grin plastered on his face, and he knew he was in trouble by the glare you gave him, only making his smile grow wider.

You didn't wait for him to wrap up the interview, heading to your shared hotel room instead, not wanting to make a scene in front of people. You lean on the desk in your room, collecting your thoughts, a million ideas running through your head while you thought of ways to teach your boyfriend a lesson. Lost in thought, you barely registered the click of the door opening, Knoxville walking in with that smug smile still on his face. "Hey, sweetheart." His southern drawl filled your ears as you turned to face him, arms crossed. He came closer, bending down to kiss you before a hand in his hair stopped him, tugging hard and making him groan lightly.

"Can't even kiss my girl?" His tone was dripping with faux confusion but that smile never left his face, looking at you through his bottom lashes, his head held in place by your firm grip, neck slightly bent back. "I don't think you deserve it." You couldn't hide the little smirk pulling at your lips, looking at him with an almost predatory gaze. You finally let go of his hair, shooting him a warning look telling him not to move as your hands drifted down his body. "I don't know where that mouth of yours has been." You said, your fingers slowly unbuckling his Knoxville belt.

You pushed him back onto the bed, pulling a surprised noise out of him, pulling the belt out of its loops as he fell back. He propped himself up on his elbows as he watched you crawl onto the bed, his deep brown eyes burning with lust. You straddled his lap, pushing him to lie down on the bed fully with a hand on his chest, before pulling both of his arms up above his head. You looped the belt around his wrists, tight enough so he couldn't wriggle out but not so tight as to cut into the skin.

"Now, what are you doin' that for?" He whined, pulling at his restraints, testing them. You could see right through his complaining, knowing he was enjoying being treated like this, or rather, you could feel it through his jeans. "Since you wanted to be greedy, you don't get to touch." You ran your hand down his chest, punctuating the last word by stopping right above his crotch. Another groan left his lips, rolling his hips up before you lifted yours up, denying him the contact. You loved the desperate look on his face, intent on making him suffer some more.

You got up off the bed, making a show of taking your clothes off. His eyes followed your every movement, your hands slowly running down your torso before pulling your shirt off, dropping it onto the floor next to you. Your hand dropped lower, unzipping your pants agonizingly slow, letting them fall down your legs. Your eyes locked onto Johnny's as you reached your hands behind your back, unhooking your bra. A desperate groan slipped from his mouth, those pretty brown eyes pleading. You smiled down at him as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling the last bit of clothes covering you off your body.

"Cat got you tongue?" His whine made you chuckle, crawling back onto the bed, this time between his spread legs, your face hovering over his crotch as you unbuttoned his jeans, taking the pull of his zipper between your teeth. A breathy moan escapes Johnny's mouth as you unzip his jeans with your teeth teasingly, pushing your hands under his shirt and dragging your nails over his abs. You push his pants and boxers down, pulling his dick out and stroking it painfully slow, desperate little noises leaving his mouth.

"Please, ma'am." His voice was wrecked, and you'd barely touched him. "Please what, PJ?" You looked up at him through your eyelashes, taking in the desperate look on his face, his eyes glazed over with lust, mouth agape, trembling breaths slipping past his bite swollen lips. "I need you." The word need was dragged out, so whiney and needy it made you laugh before straddling his lap and lining yourself up with him.

Bracing yourself with a hand on his chest, you sank down slowly, a relieved moan leaving Johnny's mouth. "Fuck, thank you, ma'am." His words were like music to your ears as you started moving up and down, setting a slow rhythm, making sure his dick hit the right spot with every thrust. His breathing was ragged and you could see him straining against his restraints, desperate to touch you. "Only I can make you feel this good, isn't that right, PJ?" Your tone was teasing, with a hint of malice in it as you picked up the pace. "Yeah, fuck, yes ma'am, only you." You smiled down at him, reaching up to where his hands were tied above his head. "Good boy."

With those words, you unbuckled the belt, releasing his hands which were all over you in less than a second. He sat up, his hands touching every bit of skin he could and his lips attaching to your neck. He left open mouthed kisses all over your neck and chest, whispering thank you's into your soft skin. His hand snaked between your bodies, rubbing your clit, making your hips stutter and mess up your rhythm. His dick twitched inside you, both of you so close to orgasm, and you pulled him up into a searing kiss. You came together, moaning into each others mouths as he spilled inside you, both of you shaking from the intensity of your orgasms.

You collapsed on the bed, Johnny's arms wrapped around you as you bodies pressed together, still trying to catch your breath. "You don't have to piss me off to get fucked, you know that?" You asked, glaring at him. "But it's so much more fun this way." That smug smile was back, a little more tired and blissed out this time. You punched his arm lightly, a playful warning. He pulled you into a gentle kiss, pulling you closer to his body so you were pressed chest to chest.

"All yours, darling."

[corrosivesaints]

Prompt: calling them a petname to try and comfort them, but only succeeding in upsetting them more at the reminder of what they can’t have

Pairing: CrozBrady

this is sooo devious, the way this blatantly encouraged me to torture brady even more >:-) my beautiful princess with so many disorders. this IS canon to 'your girl of the year'/infidelity fic verse-it takes place later in the timeline, closer to Mlle ZigZig being shot down :)))) they are soooo. delusional about how this will end. my lovelies.

***

The problem, John thinks, isn’t precisely that it’s a weakness, but that he doesn’t feel very sorry about it. Or he does, but not enough. Not in the way he should, the way God wants him to. It’s hard to feel regret, when you keep snatching life from Death’s claws, when you’re on the ground and you’re alive. 

Another successful mission–victorious in that he got his boys home, not in how they’d had to call salvo on the run, turning tail with Jerry too close on their heels, the planes biting and snarling gunfire. And here he was, with jittery adrenaline crashing through his veins, and the stiffness in his hands from clutching the yoke too tight. Then, making sure his boys are all accounted for, and sitting through interrogation, and finally standing outside, dazed and blinking in the fading twilight like a newborn lamb. Men are brushing past him, off to shower or eat, shoulders hunched in exhaustion, sharing cigarettes or a joke for the gallows. 

“John?” It’s Harry, appearing at his side in that startling way he does now, because he’s not on his crew anymore, swapped out to lead them all from Blakely’s plane. He’s wide eyed from nerves, a fine tremor in his hands that means he’ll crash in an hour or two, drop like a stone and sleep for 12 hours. This last mission was rough. John can feel the phantom throb in the back of his mouth from grinding his teeth for so long. 

“Harry.” His brain feels soupy, wrung out and abused. Harry blinks at him, makes an aborted gesture and catches himself in time. John is suddenly, painfully aware of every hurt and ache of his worn out body, of every presence around them, and of every mission he has left. Harry seems to be realizing the same thing. He twitches minutely, swivels those worried eyes right back to him. 

“30 minutes,” Harry says. Old refrain, a song and dance they’ve perfected over the last few months. John nods. Harry slips away, and he follows the dark curl of his head until he’s lost in the crowd. Somehow, he manages to choke down a few mouthfuls of food and do a perfunctory wash up. Tomorrow, when his nerves aren’t stretched so thin, he’ll shower and eat properly. Throwing his flight jacket back on–he feels better with it keeping him warm–it’s easy to sneak off to one of the forgotten supply sheds at the edge of the base. He sits for a long few minutes, hands in his pockets to warm them up after hours in the cold sky, and bounces one leg up and down in the half-forgotten melody of a song he heard at the O-Club last week. Harry pokes his head around the door a little while later, long enough that John’s brain is getting snappish and cross from the exhaustion weighing him down. 

“Hey,” he says softly, getting into his lap without any preamble, a reassuring weight as he holds John so tight he thinks his ribs will creak from the force. Not that John isn’t holding him with any less white-knuckled apprehension. He smells like the sky, cool and metallic and a bit like rain. Inhuman smells, not Harry at all, who uses that stupid pomade for his curly hair, or has graphite on his hands all the time, or who frequently tastes like their terrible coffee rations. But he is alive. He buries his face in Harry’s shoulder and tries very, very hard not to think about how the flak had sounded, or the banshee wail a B-17 made when it was in a free fall and burning up. 

“I can’t keep counting the ‘chutes,” Harry whispers after a minute, voice cracked and raw. John doesn’t know what to say. Words are trite, inadequate. He kept getting them all home, but more and more boys laid their bones in the soil of Germany or France each time. Harry’s not good with taking a failure, and a dead crew is the worst type. John turns his head so he can press a kiss to the soft skin of Harry’s throat, closed-mouthed and chaste, and the gesture undoes him at once. He shudders, makes a noise that John can’t parse is good or bad, and goes limp. He’s heavy but John doesn’t mind, would rather sit here for hours and let his legs go numb and let his world spiral down to just the sound of their breathing than be apart. If only it was possible to open himself up, or Harry, part the rib cage and nestle in the warm cavity there, away from everything and everyone. 

And that’s the problem, he remembers. As the months pass it’s getting more and more challenging to feel remorse about any of it: wanting Harry and stealing him away from Jean, failing to admit it in confession, and the fact that it’s all a sin. God has to be cruel, to put this splinter of covetous desire in his heart and let it fester. John Brady has wanted so little throughout his life, and this being one thing he yearns for the most strikes him as less of a test and more of a punishment. A purgatory that he doesn’t even want to leave. 

“Harry,” he says, kissing him again. His pulse is rabbit-fast as it always is after a mission. Harry breathes, slow and deep, and says, “Johnny, I can’t,” unable or unwilling to finish the sentence, and he doesn’t know what Harry means: it could be the war or it could be them and this tenuous connection they keep feeding into. Neither option is good, but they need their lead navigator if they’re going to survive. John Brady doesn’t need Harry Crosby. 

“You should focus on the missions,” he suggests softly, “You can’t afford distractions.”

Harry shifts to peer at him curiously.

“You’re not a distraction.” Which is a kind sentiment, but John isn’t a complete fool. “John.” Harry takes his face in his hands so he’s forced to maintain eye contact. “You’re the only thing that keeps me from flying off the handle some days, you know that right?”

He didn’t.

“Oh,” Harry murmurs at whatever expression is on his face, “sweetheart.” And that’s the other problem: he’s too goddamn nice. John’s all sharp edges these days and if it phases Harry, makes him upset or discomforts him, he never shows it. He forces his eyes shut because if Harry keeps looking at him like that he’s going to do something really, truly stupid. Something he can’t ever take back, such as asking him to stay, or even saying, You help me feel grounded, too. It’s not his place, it would be disrespecting everything Harry and Jean promised each other. 

“John, darling,” he repeats, laying one kiss to the side of his mouth. He should tell him to knock it off. It’s the same problem over and over: John comes to heel like a pathetic dog every time Harry so much as glances in his direction.

“Maybe we should stop.” The words feel like they’re being dragged out of him with sharp hooks. Harry jerks back so fast he nearly falls over, only saved by John grabbing him tighter. Harry’s face is pale and his eyes are wild at the edges in a way that concerns him, that speaks of post-mission fatigue and bad decisions. 

“Do–” Harry goes very still, which is unusual for him. “Are you calling it quits, Johnny?”

That’s not fair, he nearly snaps. He doesn’t have a normal marriage as his out, waiting patiently for him. He doesn’t have anything, he’s put it all on the line and he can’t fucking take it anymore. His anger must be bleeding through, showing up on his face, because Harry gets off his lap–and the loss of him sends an unexpected pang through his chest–and kneels beside him, taking one hand in his own, staring up at him so seriously, a penitent saint.

“John,” he says slowly, “I’ll walk away, if that’s what you want.”

“But you don’t want to.”

Harry grimaces, but remains resolute. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate me lying.”

Damn him, he was right. John stares down at their joined hands, works to formulate an excuse, a defense, anything at all, his brain overworked and overtired. This is a turning point, he’s not too exhausted that he can’t see that. He could say, I’m done, and put it all to rest. Save his immortal soul–and his heart–and get his fucking head on straight, which he needs more than ever. Mlle ZigZig has finished over half her missions. They might make it, might defy the odds after all. He just might see the shores of America again, which feels so distant it’s a dream. A mirage, compared to Harry, who is right next to him and painfully alive, who wants him, with his warm hands holding John’s own. 

He doesn’t know what to say. 

“Have you eaten?” Harry asks, breaking him out of his uncertain, looping thoughts. 

“Yeah,” he lies, not up for another lecture. Harry doesn’t eat before missions and John hardly eats at all before or after, too keyed up to keep much more than a few cups of coffee down. Unfortunately for him, Harry’s gotten skilled at spotting his bullshit.

“I think we should table this,” Harry suggests cautiously, “until tomorrow.”

“No.”

“John,” he sighs. 

“You gave me a choice, so let me decide, goddammit.” The words come out sharp, and a small part of him is horrified at the tone. This is going all wrong–more pear shaped than a scrubbed mission, the opportunity slipping through his fingers like sand. He has to salvage this. He cups Harry’s face in one hand, his cheeks still a bit flushed and cold from the flight, and leans down to kiss him. They both need a shave, and Harry’s hair is growing past regulation, and he’s so goddamn tired and his back hurts hunched over like this and he doesn’t care. John Brady is a creature of want. This is a sin. He doesn’t care. 

Harry follows him when he pulls back, nearly in his lap again, mouth pink and perfect. His hands are hot where they rest on John’s thighs, and it would be a kind of purity to be touched by him, stripped down until he’s nothing more than a man. Harry kisses him urgently, with teeth, riding the falling crest of his adrenaline high. They’ll both be too tired to do anything but sleep, soon. 

“Okay, John,” Harry laughs lightly, laying a kiss to the side of his jaw, right at the tender juncture where it folds into his neck. John shivers. “I gotta stand, or I’ll cramp right up.” His knees crack when he does, John winces in sympathy. 

“I’m glad I didn’t have to count your ‘chutes today,” Harry admits quietly, face turning somber. John sways forward so he can rest his head against his belly and breathe in the smell of human sweat and laundry soap, grounding scents that remind him he’s not in the clouds anymore. Harry sighs, runs a light hand through his hair. John doesn’t say that he wouldn’t let that happen, because he doesn’t make false promises, especially not to Harry. 

“I was serious about dinner, by the way.” 

“Five minutes,” John says, not moving. Five minutes more will get him through the night, and the next day, and the next, until the next mission when they have to do it all over again. John Brady is good at bargains, he’s been asking God for them since June. Harry exhales, rests his hand at the nape of his neck, where the skin is soft and sensitive, a place nobody but him has touched.

“Five minutes,” he agrees.

[qu0kkarambles]

Day 9 - Lee Chan

Authors note - day 9! This was supposed to be day 8 but I didn’t finish it in time sooo day 9 it is! As always I hope you enjoy and please comment or ask any questions or feedback.

Warnings - smut (minors dni), mirror sex, semi public sex, fingering, unprotected sex, praise, sweat.

The doors were heavy as you trailed through the hybe corridors, arms laden down with heavy bags. You had stocked yourself up with drinks, snacks and other food before heading to the practise room, knowing it was the best way to make sure you would be allowed to stay.

They had been practising long hours, your time with your boyfriend suffering because of it, but today was the last scheduled day of practises for a week, and so you decided to pay them a visit.

You could hear the deep bass through the walls before even opening the door, the music blaring from speakers all over the room. You entered quietly, watching as your boyfriend critiqued his members, pointing out small details that had been missed. He had a knack for noticing the small things- most people wouldn’t notice the mistakes, but to Dino they stood out like a sore thumb.

They needed perfection, and so that is what they would have. The hours and hours of practise would all be for nothing if they made big mistakes while performing, and they all knew this.

As he caught sight of you in the mirror, his firm gaze turned softer, immediately heading in your direction. He grabbed the bags from your hands, passing them on to whoever was closest as he pulled you in for a hug.

‘Hey baby. What are you doing here?’ He asked, surprised to see you. The other members helped themselves to the various treats within the bags, a small chorus of thank yous ringing out from behind Dino.

‘I wanted to see you, I’ve missed you’ you said, a small pout on your lips as you played with the bottom hem of his top.

‘We’re almost done here but I’ve gotta stay late - I’ve got a new danceology choreography I’ve been working on and they want to film next week I need to work on some details.’ He rambled on, running his hands through his hair as he spoke.

‘Babe, it’s fine. I can go if you want or I can stay and keep you company? Entirely up to you.’

‘Keep me company. Please?’ His lips were soft as he kissed you, a gentle peck before running back to his members, ready to run through their choreography one more time.

You took a seat in front of the mirrors, watching as they worked through the routine, in awe at their movements and synchronicity as they moved. By the end of the song, they were all swearing, reaching for the drinks you had bought them and gathering their things, more than ready to leave.

‘Chan-ah, you’re staying behind right?’ Seungcheol asked, rounding up the rest of the members.

‘Yeah I won’t be too long though. And y/n is keeping me company’ he said with a smile, a small wink thrown in your direction. As the other boys left, Dino queued the music on the speakers, running through his choreography a few times as a refresher before hitting play. You watched him, following his body lines with your eyes as you admired his movements.

He was an incredible dancer, and you were once again awed by his talent and skill. He ran through the choreography multiple times, editing small details with every practise. Soon enough, his top was sheer with sweat, his breathing ragged.

You stood as he grabbed a water break, walking up behind him, your hands on his waist as he stood. You lifted his shirt slightly, running your fingers over his toned back as you leaned on him.

‘You’re doing so well baby. You’re so talented’ you said, kissing gently between his shoulder blades as his eyes met yours in the reflection of the mirrors. You took a step back as he spun around to stand before you, your hands pulled away from the fabric of his top as he lifted it over his head. You were slightly shocked, and on instinct turned your head around the room, scared someone might see.

‘It’s fine princess, it’s only us here’ he said, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you close. His lips met yours, his kiss soft but firm, his hands trailing over your body as he pulled you impossibly closer to him. His tongue explored your mouth, pulling whines from your throat as he broke your kiss.

‘Come on’ he said, pulling your hand in his as he walked toward the mirrors. He positioned you, stood perfectly before the mirrors, your back to his chest as he kissed along your neck, his fingers teasing at your waist. ‘Look how perfect you are y/n’ he said, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. You tried to look away, his fingers quickly finding your jaw to hold your gaze on the mirrors.

‘Don’t look away. Not even for a second’ he said, quickly pulling your clothes from your body. You felt exposed, the vast space of the practise room making your hairs stand on end. Yet you loved the goosebumps that appeared on your arms, loved the thrill of being so exposed.

You watched in the mirror as your boyfriend kissed along your body, worshipping every inch of skin as he moved further and further down. Soon, his hands were on your core, his fingers slipping easily inside as he felt how turned on you were. It was incredible how much you were affected by him, especially here, now.

You moaned quietly, eyes meeting his in the mirror as he added another finger, slowly working you open as you stood, bared for him.

‘That’s it baby’

‘So fucking beautiful’

His praise was endless, filling your head as your knees grew weak. Your hands grasped onto any bit of Dino you could reach, your firm grip and moans the only warning he got before you came undone before him. Your legs were shaking, his grip on you the only thing keeping you upright.

He kissed along your body once more, trailing his kisses up your body as he whispered praises to you, finally reaching your neck. His hands were firm on your hips, pulling your ass back slightly as he liked himself up with your entrance.

His moans in your ear had your knees weakening once again, leaning yourself forward to rest your hands on the mirror infront of you as he began to chase his high. His movements were deep, and fast, steadily chasing his pace but not quite frantic yet. His hands trailed through your hair, tugging it back to watch you in the mirror. The two of you watched as your body’s met, mesmerised by the sight.

His praises flooded the room as he he reached his high, his arms tight around you as he filled you up.

‘Fuck y/n.’

You watched in the mirror as you each caught your breath, Dino pulling away from you as he moved to grab some tissues. The room smelt of sweat and sex, and you were lucky no one else would be in this room for a few days.

[marswasnothere]

Pretty in Pink : an unfinished draft that’s been left sitting in my docs for way too long

All the lead up to smut without anything happening, very abrupt ending, Bojan in the Pink Tavastia Collar tm, and the start of some good ole fashioned puppy bojan without getting to the good stuff

“Woo, home time!”

“I’m sooo tired du– hey, shuffle up– thanks, okay, cool… auhhhh… yeah, home time.”

“Vou, big yawn. You go sleep?”

“When we’re back at your flat, yeah.”

“Aww.”

“…what?”

“You miss out on surprise, Bojči.”

“…what do you mean?”

“Here. Look.”

“…”

“…”

“Is that one of the coll–”

“Shhh. Mikke front seat.”

“Okay, okay… just. Hhh– what the fuck.”

“You look cute in. I want to see my puppy again.”

“… holy shit.”

“You do not like?”

“No– no, I lov– it’s good, I love it. I’m wide awake now.”

“Phew, okei.”

“…I jus– h-how��d you get it?”

“Stole from Matti. Will return. Don’t stain it.”

“Jeeesus, Jere…”

— — — — —

The moment after Jere waves the car away, shuts the door, and kicks off his shoes, Bojan has him pinned against the wall. His eyes dart between Jere’s soft yet chapped lips and his icy eyes, staring right back with innocence, as if he hasn't basically been teasing Bojan the entire car ride.

When Jere showed him the collar, that little strip of pink dotted with black spikes sitting in his hand, Bojan’s mind raced back a few hours. He knew he was going to join Jere on stage for Cha Cha Cha for both shows, and half joked, half suggested that he wear the dancer’s bright pink costumes. Matti took that suggestion in stride and passed him his outfit to try it on, maybe recording something while they’re at it. Bojan could only slip the collar on and pull it tight around his neck before he decided that was enough, and sat patiently for Matti to pass him the costume from behind his phone instead.

Just a short, fun video. That was all.

Until Jere walked in and called Bojan “my pretty puppy.”

All he could do was sit as Jere tousled his hair and baby-talked to him in Finnish, pretending like it was absolutely not turning him on in the slightest. Bojan decided to test his luck when Jere gave him a command to speak, and he barked.

Now why, in all things holy on this very Earth, did his spine tingle with arousal all the way from his non-existent dog ears to his dick?

He tried to laugh the feeling off, and thankfully Jere joined him. Bojan prayed that his jeans weren’t tented when he passed the costume back to Matti, and hesitated when he reached up to unclip the collar.

“Here, I got.”

Jere’s fingertips brushed his neck. Bojan’s breath hitched. The tightness of the collar around his neck was gone, and for some reason, Bojan missed it.

“There we go, puppy.”

He could blame any pink on his cheeks from drinking. Easy.

What wasn’t easy was trying to stay calm when getting on all fours, letting Jere ride him with his hand so dangerously close to his neck, accidentally revealing his O-face to hundreds of people twice in one night, and then having to sit next to him in a silent car ride, knowing he’s going to get his brains fucked out and be barking like a dog for Jere–

He …huh. Okay then.

“You still sleepy?”

Bojan, back in the moment, lets out a weak chuckle.

“No. Nope. You kept me awake. Hand on my thigh and all that.” He tugs Jere’s puffer jacket off his shoulders. “I always fall asleep in cars, plus it’s, like, one in the morning. It’s crazy how a little bit of your attention makes me stay up.”

Jere smiles as he watches him talk. He slides the jacket off and hangs it up, then returns his hands to cup Bojan’s cheeks. They’re warm, flushed from cold air and close proximity.

“We celebrate now. To Bojan here in Finland,” in between giving a quick kiss to his lips, he whispers, “here with me.”

Bojan lets his eyes drift shut as they sink into a longer kiss. His hands trail up underneath Jere’s shirt, pulling him closer as he parts their lips with his tongue. Jere nudges forwards and their teeth clack together, but all Bojan feels is his adorable smile pressed into his lips that he’s going to feel imprinted on them, long after he returns to Slovenia.

He wants to revel in the warmth of Jere’s mouth, taste the slick wetness of their tongues together for the rest of his life. Bojan keeps his hands on Jere’s hips, gently squeezing his love handles.

“And to successful concert,” Jere adds, though it sounds a little more like “suck-ess-fool” to the Slovene's ears.

“Mmm, yeah.” Keeping his eyes shut, Bojan trails kisses up from Jere's lips to his cheek, then nibbles at his earlobe. In turn, Jere lets out sweet sighs of pleasure, his head resting on Bojan’s shoulder.

“I’m so glad we’re alone now,” he whispers into Jere’s ear.

“I get to see puppy all for myself,” Jere responds, breath hot against his neck

Bojan stills.

There’s that stupid little tingle again. It happened in the car, it happened in Tavastia, it happened in Liverpool when Jere called him his dog in that steak restaurant, and, fuck, it’s happened so many more times when Bojan fantasised about Jere all alone in his bedroom.

“Bojči? You ok–”

“Do you still have the collar?”

Bojan refuses to give him a chance to worry if anything is wrong.

It takes a second for Jere to verify the situation, and he grins, reaching over to his jacket. He dips his hand into the pocket and backs up against the wall, separating their embrace, much to Bojan’s dismay. It’s momentary sadness, as when he pulls the collar out, that little irresistible strip of pink fabric, Bojan swears he might collapse from how weak his knees become.

Jere dangles the collar from pinched fingertips, practically eye-fucking Bojan right where he’s standing.

“You want to wear again?"

“Obviously,” Bojan whispers, conscious of the heat in his cheeks and how embarrassing he must look.

Jere flashes a smile. When his fingertips brush against his neck, Bojan feels like he’s going to explode. There's no delicate way to put it. Jere knows his weakness and Bojan knows he’s going to use it to his advantage. The collar is soft against his skin, wrapping around his neck just like Jere’s hands from the past times they experimented together — explored each other's bodies, as one might say.

The ends of the collar click together, and an overwhelming heat rushes through Bojan’s body. He can’t help but shudder when Jere cradles the back of his head. Something about being locked in, being his puppy, being owned.

Bojan never considered himself to be a kinky guy, but he might have a few things to discuss with Jere in the morning after, including a trip to whatever weird Finnish sex shop they can find.

“How it feel?”

“…weird,” Bojan answers. Jere’s smile drops so he finishes his response. “Good weird. It’s good, just different, and I– I like it. Yeah… I like it. What do you think?”

Bojan puffs his chest out with his question, making Jere giggle behind his hand.

“You make very cute puppy, Bojan,” he says, “but I like you better on floor, where dog belong, yes?”

Jesus fucking Christ, if he doesn’t fuck me right here, right now, this trip was all for nothing.

His face gives away his thoughts. Jere laughs again, his hand moving up to stroke Bojan’s hair. Bojan relaxes at his touch. He glances to the side when Jere gently holds his greying strands in between his soft fingers, wishing he wouldn’t have a constant reminder of his stress poking out from his hairline.

“Am I going fast? Too much for you?” Jere asks.

“No– no, keep going, I like it when you talk and… talk about what you want me to do.”

Jere hums.

Bojan stares at his lips, plush, soft, a little chapped from the cold. He has no doubt Jere’s staring at his own too.

“On floor. Like on stage, you crawl. You crawl for me, like walking dog. You can do, yes?”

It practically rips the oxygen out of Bojan’s lungs with how easy and casually he can say that. Their eyes meet, Bojan staring at him, with parted lips and upturned eyebrows. He nods, awkwardly lowering himself while he holds onto Jere’s arms for balance.

“There you go,” Jere coos as his knees hit the floor.

He doesn’t seem to care about how hard Bojan holds onto his forearms, or how his ankles click, or how he groans at the aches radiating through his post-gig body. Every little thing that Bojan thinks about seems to fly right past his mind. How can Jere not see how embarrassing he looks? How pathetic, and desperate, and awkward, and–

“Good boy, Bojan. Good puppy.”

“Woof.”

Bojan barks.

He feels that goddamned tingle up his spine again.

AAAAAAND THATS ALL I GOT UP TO :DDD

[the-starry-seas]

For Shiny Squad, Graffiti, Rence and Kit:

Someone they care for is upset, how do they cheer them up?

What is the one thing they wish to experience in their life more than anything?

How good are they with giving directions?

What is their opinion about swans?

Someone they care for is upset, how do they cheer them up?

Lucky: He sits and talks with them and encourages them to talk about whatever is bothering them. Or he can show them cool videos to distract them from their emotions! They can cry on him, too, if they want to.

Shrike: He's bringing them something they like as a gift and that's about it. He's not great at comforting but he's observant and he knows what works for people.

Carno: He is going to find someone with emotional lieracy to handle that. He's not good at these things and is not attempting to change. He's probably finding Lucky if at all possible.

Graffiti: He's bringing them some warm fresh-baked desserts and maybe a blanket out of the dryer. He's not great at listening but he can nod and say mm-hm every so often.

Rence: Cuddling and other physical affection. Snuggle up to them and listen to them and offer to shoot whoever is bothering them. If it helps, it helps!

Kit: He's fussing over them, very concerned about how they're feeling. He asks them how to help and does his best to do whatever they said would be best. He's a sunshine boy at heart.

What is the one thing they wish to experience in their life more than anything?

Lucky: He wants to be a femboy sooo badly, there's nothing prettier than lolita fashion.

Shrike: Seeing a shrike in real life, or winning a video game tournament.

Carno: Go back to training on Kamino and get perfect score in every stage. He was always good but he wants to be the best.

Graffiti: He wants to be able to do a big mural that people look at and say is amazing. He thinks he's a good artist and he wants to be appreciated for it!

Rence: First, tits. Second, husband playing with tits.

Kit: He wants to go camping with his family and see something really special like an eclipse or a leucistic deer.

How good are they with giving directions?

Lucky: He can give vague directions but there's going to be a few steps missing.

Shrike: Very methodical. Street names at the minimum. If he knows the area well enough, it's full on 'left on Main Street, 27 steps, turn right on Aldera Avenue'.

Carno: Cardinal directions only. 'Turn seventeen degrees southwest' which is something that most other people simply do not care to understand.

Graffiti: Very much based on local landmarks. Slight left at the Senate, hard right at Dex's, straight till the Chancellor Arch, down three levels to the Golden Tree hologram, straight ahead and you can't miss it.

Rence: "Uhhh HEY BABE. How do ya get to so-and-so? It's two lefts and a right, yeah?"

Kit: Very helpful, polite, concise instructions. He offers to escort them to make sure they get there.

What is their opinion about swans?

Lucky: They're sooo pretty and they're sooo romantic and they mate for life and he loves them so much. When he gets married, he wants the ceremony to be by the swan lake.

Shrike: Not his favourite bird but they're perfectly acceptable. He keeps a respectful distance and videoed Carno getting his ass beat.

Carno: One of them ran at him honking and he got in a fight with it. It did not end well for him but that's mostly because Lucky was yelling at him to not hurt it.

Graffiti: He's never seen one but he's heard stories about their fighting prowess, so he's fine not seeing them. He doesn't want to get an up-close look at something with tongue and teeth like that.

Rence: She thinks someone should throw one into the Senate, just to see what happens. She doesn't want to be anywhere near when that happens because they kind of scare her. They're pretty though!

Kit: He thinks they're very pretty but he learned not to get close from seeing Carno. That was an enjoyable experience and he rewatches the video whenever Carno annoys him.

[armandisdaddy]

We’re Just Friends Chp.2 -Modern Au! Rhaenyra x Dornish Male Reader

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Dornish Male Reader (House of Blackmont) Aegon x Male Reader

Content/Warning: !!🔞PLUS!! Angst, Denial, Some Sexual Content, Tension,Strap penetration , Fem domme action, Smut, toxic love, LOTS of Jealousy, and a bit of a love square. (No not a triangle lmfao)

Word count: 2,065

Author’s Notes: I know you’re going to be surprised because I surprised myself honestly. This is one of my more depraved fictions…sooo hopefully I didn’t go to far..

Chapter Two

You slept off the tequila and woke up to an empty bed. You went to check Rhaenyra’s and there was no one there not even Aegon. Where did everyone go? So you pulled out your phone texting her.

You

“Hey wya?”

*No reply*

“Okay…” You decided to forget about it and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Hours had passed and still nothing from her. You started to get worried and thought to call the police, but you were interrupted hearing the door open and laughing coming from the living room. You walked out seeing Lydia and Rhaenyra sitting there on the couch holding hands, laughing. You gasped loud enough for them to hear you and you smiled awkwardly waving at them. With a tight lipped grin you walked into the kitchen to get a drink locking yourself in your room for the remainder of the day.

After what just happened last night she took that bitch back….okay well seems like you were on the market again. You sighed feeling your heart crumble into tiny pieces, but what could you. It is what it is..you told your self. They stayed in the house all day not even giving you a chance to truly express the anger and hurt you were feeling. You decided you need to get out of the house. Texting Aegon,

You

“Hey..you know any good clubs to go to tonight?”

Aegon

“Hell yeah.”

You

“Pick me up at 10…😘”

You smiled yourself getting up to find something to wear. You searched through your closet finding a black fishnet top, a super short mini skirt, with fishnet stockings and some black platform boots. Putting the clothes on your body you took a few pictures sending them to Aegon and posting them on Instagram. Finishing your hair and makeup you were very happy with the end result.

Aegon

“You look fucking hot..🥵”

You

“Thank you, love.”

Aegon

“I’ll be there in like 5 mins..”

You decided it was time to go outside to meet him so you stepped into the hall looking at yourself one more time before you waltzed through the living room without saying a word. “Y/N your going out?” Was Rhaenyra really asking you where you were going? You turned to look at her with sickeningly sweet smile. “Oh yeah I decided to take your advice about your brother. We’re going to this sick club he told me about. Don’t wait up..you two have fun.” Her face dropped and you didn’t give her a chance to say a thing before you left.

Walking outside you saw Aegon pulling up in his sports car that he called Sunfyre. Impressive you thought running up to the car. He smiled getting out to give a tight hug. “You look..amazing.” He stared at you in awe. “Stop staring let’s go have fun.” You teased letting yourself in on the passenger side while he sat back in the drivers seat. Soon you were getting a text message from your “Bestfriend”

Rhae Rhae

“I thought you said you weren’t attracted to him.”

You

“Aren’t you suppose to be knee deep in some pussy right now? Please get tf out of my phone with this shit.”

*Read*

You

“That’s what tf I thought..”

Who the fuck did she think she was, you weren’t even bothered about what happened between the two of you last night. What you were pissed off about was the fact that basically chose being with that cunt over your entire friendship. Aegon touched your thigh as he drove. “ You okay, Y/N?” You exhaled slowly and sighed. “Honestly…no. Guess who your sister brought back to the house after she said all that shit about me.” He gasped “She didn’t…” You nodded, “Yeah..yeah she did.”

He rubbed your thigh trying to make you feel better and you smiled softly trying to push it to the back of your mind trying to reassure yourself you were going to have fun. Now you were pulling up to the club and surprisingly you didn’t have to wait in some crazy ass line. Well of course not, you were with one of the famous Targaryens after all. The music blared as you walked inside with Aegon holding your hand guiding you to his VIP section. “Wait here, I’m bringing a bottle back. Tequila right?.” You looked around bobbing your head to the music. “Yeah..right.” Before you knew it were up dancing by yourself waiting for Aegon to get back and apparently you had caught someone’s eye. Cragen Stark to be exact.

He gave a rather dashing smile and approached you. “Your Y/N, Rhaenyra’s friend right?” You had to yell over the music and move closer to him in order for him to hear you properly. “Umm yeah you can say that.” His smile never wavering. “You look good tonight.” You smiled blushing slightly looking away. “Thanks.” Looking around then back at you he pulled out his phone. “I see you’re with Aegon, can I have your number I’ll text you when I leave here.” You took his phone and smiled like the Cheshire Cat typing in your name and number quickly. “Thanks. It was nice seeing you. Hope to you see you again, Y/N.”

Aegon came back with the bottles and shot glasses. “You’re going to be pissed at me.” You looked confused . “Huh..why?” He sucked his teeth. “Umm…Nyra texted me asking what club we were going to and I fucked up and told her…aannnd now she’s here coming to our section.” You rolled your eyes and sighed seeing her coming up the steps with the cunt following behind her. “Just great…I’m going to go dance.” Cracking a bottle of the strong spirit open you poured yourself two shots kicking them both back with ease. Pushing past Rhaenyra not even giving her a second glance.

She waited to get Lydia drunk enough which didn’t take long and made her way down to the dance floor to find you. You were dancing like nobody was watching and she broke your trance taking your wrist dragging you off into the bathroom locking the door behind her. You pulled away, but she had quite a grip on you.

“What the fuck do you want?” Her violet eyes were fuming with anger and you laughed loving that you could get her so angry. “So what is your fucking problem? Scoffing, “My problem…? I’m not the one who fucking lied saying they were leaving their girlfriend last night because of how they treat your bestfriend. Not to mention you confess your undying love for me last night we almost hooked the fuck up and now your back with Lydia. So tell me do I have a problem? Because I don’t think I do. You’ve made me realize I’m not shit to you so we can keep it that way. From now on I’m just your roommate.”

Rhaenyra seemed to be in deep thought and then she remembered. “I told you I loved you…last night. And we kissed. I thought I imagined that…I was fucked up last night.” You rolled your eyes and left the bathroom. “Un-fucking believable.” Going back to your VIP section you found a seat in Aegon’s lap. Rhaenyra trailing not too far behind you she hesitated seeing the two of you like that, but fixed her face finding her seat beside Lydia.

The night went on and you almost forgot she was even there she was so quiet sulking and you were too busy dancing and laughing with her brother. A few moments later a fight had broke out and the club had been cleared out. Rhaenyra told Aegon she was taking Lydia home first and that she’d be back home soon. Aegon took you back to your shared apartment and attempted go up with you, but you declined claiming you were tired and had some last minute work to turn in for school tomorrow. He nodded understanding and hugged you goodnight.

You got inside showering and destressing you sighed to yourself hearing Rhaenyra come inside. Expecting her to go to her room you came out of the bathroom in your towel only to be pushing into your room against the wall. “Rhae…Rhaenyra what are you doing get off me?” You spoke with an annoyed tone pushing her away before she crashed her lips into yours.

“I remember last night…pretty well now and I remember we were rudely interrupted..no?” Her eyes were blown with lust and your were overwhelmed at the sudden intrusion of her tongue in your mouth. You wanted to be angry, but your body wouldn’t allow it. Your towel fell exposing your full body to her and she smiled.

“You’re gorgeous…you know that?” You look away shyly. “Oh no be a good boy and look at me..” You whimpered as her hands slid down your body teasing your already throbbing cock. “Nyra…please.” You begged her to stop teasing it was becoming to much. “Your so fucking pathetic…what were you saying in the club tonight? Oh yeah…I’m just your fucking roommate.” She spoke in a mocking tone. “And yet here you are ready to blow your load and I haven’t even gotten started yet. Pathetic.” Why did she have to talk to you like that and why did it have to make you so horny.

She pushed you to your knees and smiled softly caressing your lips and chin. Pulling down her pants she stood over you her strap and cunt in clear view and she sat it on your face. “Eat it..” You moaned inhaling her scent melting slowly lapping at her clit, cooing at the taste of her. She groaned wrapping her hands in your dark thick tresses pushing your face into her cunt. Her hips buck rubbing it up and down your face. Your nose nudging her clit simultaneously causing her to tremble every now and then.

“Good boy.” She praised and you moaned into her, licking and sucking with feverishly. She bit into her lip quickly coming undone on your tongue. Your cock twitching in agony by how stimulated you were. She laughed loving how cute you looked beneath her and she pulled back grabbing the dildo attached to her harness slapping it on your face. “Can you do something for me, sweet boy.” You nodded waiting for her next command. “Get on the bed on all fours.”

You obliged and quickly went face down ass up. “You belong just like this don’t you?” You whimpered as she laid a harsh smack across your rounded ass cheek. “Answer me.” You squeal. “Yes..” she went rummaging through your things and found some lube letting the the cool liquid drip down your tight hole she rubbing her thumb around the rim slowly letting it give way to the pressure of her pressing against it. Soon she added another finger and another until she felt you were nice and ready for her.

She lubed up her attachment and slowly prodded at your entrance before slowly slipping inside. You wince slightly, but your eyes rolled into your head from the way it filled you so nicely leaving no room for nothing else. She bucked her hips forward filling you until she hit a dead end and pulled back before pounding into you recklessly. Holding your hips her pelvis smashed into your ass over and over causing it to jiggle with each thrust. “Fuck..Rhaenyra…yes..” You whimpered and screamed grabbing onto the sheets of your bed.

“You lik this huh, your taking me so well, pet. You love the way I fuck you, huh?” She pulled you up by your hair. “Yes..yes I love the way you fuck me.” Your groan like an animal as she continued her assault. “Oh my Gods. I’m going to cum..please make me cum.” She slapped your ass again relishing how slutty you’ve become. “Your a little slut for this dick aren’t you.” You nodded vigorously exploding all over your sheets.

She pulled out from you and slapped your ass one more good time before picking you up to kiss you harshly. “Are you going to talk to me like that again?” She asked as she held your face so you looked her in the eyes. “No…” she pushed you back exiting the room. “Good…”

To be continued…

[writtentonobody]

Dear nobody,

It’s complicated.

How I feel about you is not easily put into words.

I hope you die.

I feel sorry for you.

I hate you.

I’m sorry.

No matter how I word it, nothing seems quite right. It never seems like enough.

But… I know how my body reacts when I think about you. My stomach coils up- twists and turns and churns with hot magma, and I want to expel it. My hands are clammy. My face feels freezing and too hot at the same time. My limbs tremble. And most horrific of all, is the sickening, barely-there arousal that sometimes surfaces- a feeling that makes my insides quiver with shame.

You’ve twisted me up in a way that’s hard for me to express. You’ve turned me rotten. You took what made me innocent and spit it back up in my face, and you’ve turned it into a sludge a hue so sinister that I am afraid to show anyone what’s left of it.

I can still recall the day with too much clarity. (I’m so fucking angry about this day. How you treated me. How my friend treated me. How I had to treat myself. How I had to pick up the fucking pieces of me because nobody else could. Nobody else wanted to.)  Ironically enough, I don’t remember much of you. I remember what you did to me, but I barely remember what you look like. I barely remember the shit you told me. Who you were. But that might’ve just been because I was way too damn drunk.

It all started at a Halloween party. My favorite holiday. My favorite time of year. I came all the way from a different city to visit my friend, and we had matching costumes. I was an angel. My friend was a devil. The plan was to go to a music gig at some bar, because a guy that my friend liked was playing with his band. It was fun, at first. After a couple of drinks, I allowed myself to sway with the crowd. Smile at the other guests. Enjoy the moment, even though I was shy. You didn’t even pay attention to me then, when I was there. But I saw you, I think. With your friends. After the show, we were invited to the afterparty. My friend was excited to talk to the performer they liked (he was apparently your friend, too. Your best of buds. Found out later that your whole friend group was filled with creeps.) and though I was meek, I was excited to mingle and meet new people. And meet new people I did. Strangers included me. There was a cat. I made friends with a very mystical lady who kept calling me pretty, and I was a little smitten. But that was when you swooped in. I was pretty drunk at that point, and you led me to sit with you on the couch. You gave me another nasty, cheap beer, and we talked about a whole bunch of shit that doesn’t matter. I scanned around for my friend. Were they safe? I saw them. All was good. At one point, we started kissing. I don’t remember how. But I was excited. It was my first time kissing a guy. I was a late bloomer, and I was excited to experience new things.

We kissed for a while longer. The party ended. But hey! After party of the after party at your house, right? Awesome. So stupidly, I drove us there in my little purple car. I couldn’t even drive in a straight line. Why did you guys let me do that? Somehow, we made it, though. We all piled out of the car when we got there and ended up in your apartment. There was an upstairs and a downstairs. My friend stayed downstairs, talked to your friends. I went up with you. I was ready for some kissing and some cuddling. We made out, and then, out of nowhere, you tugged down my tights. That was wrong. It was wrong. And suddenly, there was pain. And more pain. And then, quickly I covered myself. “No,” I’d said. “It hurts.” And then you said something sooo cliché. Something like, “Oh, are you a virgin? It’s supposed to hurt the first time.” I might’ve been naïve, but I wasn’t an idiot. You tried again and again, and I stood firm on no. Eventually, you gave up. I quickly ran downstairs, half-clothed, and burst into tears when I locked eyes with my friend. I don’t remember what I said, but you had begged and begged me to stay to cuddle. My friend asked me if I wanted them to beat you up. At the time, I wanted- needed- to get out of there as quickly as possible, so I’d said no. But looking back on it, I should’ve said yes. Maybe you getting a fist to the face would’ve offered me more closure. Maybe, it would have allowed me to forgive my friend more easily for leaving me up there with you.

I screamed and cried on the phone with one of my ex-girlfriends. Then, whilst still quite drunk, I drove my friend home. They offered me a pair of Winnie the Pooh pajama pants in place of my messed-up tights. And then… I had to drive myself home. All the way out of town. I’d stopped to get coffee, and then it was an hour and a half drive back, by myself, at 6 am. I think this was the worst part of it all and the part where I felt most alone. After something so horrible had happened to me, there was nobody to help scoop me back up. I had to pick up little shards of myself and hurriedly shove them into my proverbial pocket. It felt like… this always happens. I always had to do this for myself. But now, the time when I’d needed it the most, I was left, driving myself home, trembling like a leaf, glancing down at pooh bear on my legs to bring me some sort of childish comfort, like at least he was there for me.

When I got home, something happened. It was when that sinister, grotesque thing first reared its ugly head. Something so shameful- so horrific, needy, and evil. I’d gotten home, headed to my bedroom, and I’d immediately gotten off. I know it’s pretty common after that sort of thing. Your body and your mind are so confused. But… I hated myself more than I ever have in that moment.

From then on, I was all screwed up. I used people to hurt me. I drank to numb the pain. I went through psychosis, though this is partially not your fault- something else that was horrible enough happened to me that same year, too, that made me question my whole existence.

Months later, I’d looked you up. I had somehow managed to remember your name, or at least parts of it. And after looking up friends of friends and looking at different peoples’ profiles I managed to find you. I read your profile. Memes filled with misogyny. Unsurprising. Not atypical of what you were. There were also a couple of family photos, and old pictures of you. I was filled with hatred. I wished that you felt guilty for what you did to me. I wished that your whole life was ruined. I wished that maybe you’d even kill yourself because you knew how fucked up of a person you were. But with the same breath, I’d also thought… I hope that your life wasn’t ruined. I hope that you can move on. I hope that everything will be alright for you. I even thought, maybe you were too drunk, too. Maybe you didn’t really realize what was happening until it was too late as much as I did. Realistically, though, I knew that none of these things were probably the reality. You probably didn’t care. Didn’t remember, nor cared to remember. I was probably just a half a blink of a memory for you, if even that.

And it really is unfortunate, too, because somehow, I’d allowed you to have this power over me- a power so intense that it has affected me deeply, even to this day.

Because of you, I am scared to be vulnerable.

Because of you, being touched makes me feel twisted.

Because of you, I have trouble forming deep relationships. (Not just because of you. That runs deeper than you, too.)

Because of you, even though my body screams for hugs, holding hands, being physically close to people, (this is not just about romance, but even with my friends, too) when I think of allowing myself to do so, something in me starts to clamp up, like I can’t.

Because of you, I’m afraid that I can’t be enough.

Because of you, I feel like something horrific.

Because of you, I have feelings that I can’t explain and don’t know how to explain.

You’ll never see this.

But I needed this.

I think my conclusion is that I hope you rot.

[paleparearchive]

My Story Begins Here

Rembrandt's New Year 4★ story (3/3) ( 1 - 2 - 3 )

Location: museum exterior (New Year) | Characters: Rembrandt, Renoir, Hokusai, Velazquez, Van Dyck, Millet

Hokusai: Aight, Next's the "stage" cleanin'. Let's get to it!

Millet: I never thought I'd hear Hokusai-san say "I'm going to clean up" one day…!

Renoir: Millet, you're so moved and excited. I've never seen anything like that, but is Hokusai's room really that messy?

Millet: … One wrong step and you'll end up in the devil's cave. If you want, you can join us next time, Renoir–

Renoir: I'll pass. I'm too busy having fun with the ladies.

Rembrandt: Hahaha, that's a quick answeeer. Well then, do you need my help? It sounds like fuuun!

Millet: Well… If I get a chance, I'll ask you.

Renoir: … If you helped, Rembrandt, you would get hurt, break things, and make even more of a mess. Millet is kind enough not to say no clearly.

Hokusai: Oop! Is this good?

Van Dyck: Wait, what are you doing!? That's not going to clean it up. You have to clean up more carefully. You're too bold, Hokusai.

Hokusai: What, ain't it enough to just clean up the mess?

Well, now that I've finished my work, I'm gonna go eat daifuku on the way back!

Van Dyck: Ah, hold on a second! We just started!?

Velazquez: …

Renoir: Alright, I think it's okay like this.

Millet: No way, Renoir. There's still some dirt left. If you don't clean the corners properly, the next person who uses it will have a hard time, right?

Renoir: No, I think it's pretty enough.

… Rather, this exchange reminds me of Sisley's cleaning service.

Velazquez: …

Rembrandt: Woah! This place is so clean! Did you do this, Velazquez-kun?

Velazquez: I did. I'll go clean up over there next. I'll leave the rest to you.

…

Rembrandt: (He looks like a craftsman! Velazquez-kun is a good cleaneeer.)

…

(The stage keeps getting cleaner and cleaner. When we're done cleaning, we'll take it apart.)

Rembrandt: Soooo much happened at the New Year's event.

(The six of us here were chosen. I was surprised when I was nominated as the leader, wasn't I? I didn't have the courage to be a leader at that time, so I turned it down. Even if they went through all the trouble to nominate me…)

I feel bad for Palette-chan and Mr. Owner.

(Then, as expected, there were all kinds of troubles. Many times I wished I wasn't there. But…)

Hokusai-san… Everyone gave me the courage to get on stage. Everyone… They had my back.

(I'm not completely over it yet, but I feel sooo much better.)

I wonder if one day... I wonder if I could make my own story, with myself as the main character…

(That time…)

Van Dyck: Hey, Rembrandt! What are you just standing there for? There's still a lot of cleaning left to do!

Rembrandt: Woah, sorry! I'll do it right awaaay.

(Hahaha, I got scolded.)

–Alright! I'll do my best to clean up.

[messengerhermes]

So I wrote this as an agreement reblog on a post going around about the ways events branding themselves as "women and nonbinary folks" only is a great way gender essentialists show their ass and shove half of nonbinaries into the "woman-lite" lane and the other half into "you better jump this hurdle in 6-inch heels if you want to be treated with basic human decency. and not called a faker." It got really long. So now it's its own post because I'm not a monster about to word vomit on some innocent human's post. So here we go: Y'all, I have known and loved many nonbinary folks who were read by the world as cis men and struggled to be open about being nonbinary even in queer spaces due to social expectations about gender performance.

It sucks ass and when spaces do the "women and nonbinary folks" thing, it shows that you don't think of nonbinary folks as separating from the gender binary--you think of us as the Light version of whatever our forcibly assigned birth sex's corresponding gender is.

And the thing that suck on top of all this is, it forces nonbinary folks to hold a really firm line centered on stripping away our assigned genders at birth, lest the world shove us right back into the binary gender buckets we were assigned to or prod us to leap into the other bucket to prove our transness/gender variance.

And frankly, I hate this as a nonbinary person, because it eliminates the nuances of nonbinary experience, which makes navigating the world that much more irritating and at times dangerous.

I was assigned female at birth and raised as a girl until I was 19 and figured my shit out. I could have the exact same definition of my gender as another nonbinary person. We could have all the exact same identity markers in everything else too: age, geolocation, class, race, body type, disabilities, sexual orientation, et al. Except. They were assigned male at birth and raised as a boy until they were 19 and figured their shit out.

And that will shape the confusion, trauma, and social journey they experience as a nonbinary person in a fundamentally different way than how my experiences being dumped in the girlbox shaped mine.

Gender conditioning is horrifyingly rigid and intense, and there are different rules depending on which gender box you were dropped in, and the rules in those gender boxes vary depending on whether your culture was colonized by white western imperialism or not, where you're living, and all the other aforementioned identity categories you have. This shit is messy and deep and wild and realizing that you are nonbinary, in whatever flavor of that word is your truth does not instantaneously erase decades of socialization and all the nasty baggage that can come with it.

But nonbinary people can't talk about that shit, because then it gets wielded against those of us deigned too close to being men, or simply just forever tainted because once, somewhere at some point in their life, they were hinged to the concept of manhood without their consent. This once again drives folks who are amab (or assumed amab at birth, gatekeepers are frankly terrible at actually guessing this accurately) to hyper perform whatever the latest social cues for Proper Nonbinariness are to protect themselves. Or it just drives folks completely away from community and deep into the closet because they feel like they will never be accepted.

Likewise, those of us assumed to have crawled out of the girlbox are treated as "The Other Good Gender uwu" which is a ghoulish mix gender essentialism and infantilization. Or we hyper perform the latest social cues for Proper Nonbinariness to avoid people huffing and rolling their eyes when we point out them screwing up our pronouns because clearly we are doing this for some kind of Social Attention or are just pretending because it's cool and trendy to be "they/them," "Ze/Hir," "What do you mean there are other nonbinary pronouns? Are you just making up words now?? What the fuck is 'ey/em, are you Popeye?"

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, bringing it back now y'all.

TLDR: Nonbinary folks benefit greatly from getting to publicly talk about the ways our birth-assigned genders shaped our initial worldviews, because even as a harmful environment hurts us we will still pick up values and beliefs from that environment because that's how the fucking soup works, and how realizing our gender opened up the opportunities to unlearn the gendered lenses we're trained to understand the world through. Frankly, I think we could do a fucking lot for society if we could share these experiences without gender essentialists latching onto whatever we say and warping it to suit their own purposes.