#i get having a nostalgia for like... playing something the first time or when everyone was talking about it on release.

[wetcatspellcaster]

ok i don't normally make 'crotchety old lady on porch' posts. but i just saw someone on another social media website say they were feeling 'nostalgic' for their bg3 pairing and??? ....how????? it's not even been a year since release????? fan creators are still churning out content????

i know fandoms seem to cycle way quicker these days, but it's always so funny to me when people start to wonder why. the posts about 'the fandom is dying' are starting to circulate for bg3, and - not in a shaming way bc everyone is entitled to find new interests and new hyperfixations and also REST!! I'm not holding anyone hostage!!! - but... maybe it's because you barely gave it a chance to live??? by the time it had started to gather momentum you had already left it behind???

[this-doesnt-endd]

I love the museum scene from ferris bueller so much not only cause its just great but also cause like everytime i see it i see myself and think about how special that kind of moment is

[wherethefireliliesgrow]

Make You Remember

Yoo Jimin (Karina) x Reader

GENRE: angst, fluff

TYPE: One Shot

Inspired by: Make You Remember - Lazy Weekends

A/N: i’ve been in a writing slump this year, but every now and then, i’d come here to read. recently, a few pieces caught my attention and reignited my urge to write. so, here we are! while revisiting my 2018 spotify playlists for a dose of nostalgia, i stumbled upon one of my favorite songs from back then—it felt like the perfect way to ease back into writing. (a little shoutout to 2cool-2die, her stories were what got me back into writing). anyway, hope you all enjoy the story!

“Stop staring at her like a creep,” Minjeong whispered, her large eyes narrowing in a protective glare.

Jimin couldn’t help herself. She had been watching you for the past hour—watching the way you threw your head back in laughter at something your friends said or carefully picked the tomatoes off your sandwich to hand them off to someone else. Her fists clenched at the sight.

You used to pluck off tomatoes and feed them to her, letting her play your knight in shining armor against your sworn enemy: tomatoes. It should’ve been her.

Oh, how she missed that smile you used to reserve just for her.

“Dude, I’m serious,” Minjeong hissed again, this time throwing a balled-up tissue at Jimin’s face. “This is getting out of hand.”

Jimin grunted in annoyance, lazily stretching her long arms overhead before sprawling out on the metal bench. Her head landed on Aeri’s lap as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“I can’t help it. I miss her,” she admitted quietly, closing her eyes as Aeri absentmindedly began combing through her soft raven-black hair with her fingers.

“Well, you should’ve done better,” NingNing said flatly, taking a deep drag from her Juul. “She really loved you, you know.”

The girls expected Jimin to snap back, as she always did. Instead, they watched her deflate entirely, burrowing her face into Aeri’s stomach for solace.

“I know.”

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.

.

.

Jimin had always been sure of herself. She was proud of her decisions, every one of them. After all, she had transferred from one of the top universities in the UK to pursue her passion for dance in Korea—a choice that went against her parents’ wishes. They had warned her about the instability of a dance career, but she’d proved them wrong.

She had met Minjeong, Aeri, and NingNing shortly after her return, and together, they formed a dance group. Now in her third year of university, Jimin was part of AESPA, a group that had skyrocketed to fame after winning first place in a national competition.

With a growing fanbase, a promising future, and an upcoming performance in front of the president at the annual ceremony, Jimin had every reason to be proud of her choices.

Every reason—except for letting you go.

She had met you during her first year back in Korea. You were the university’s student ambassador, tasked with introducing new students to campus life. Since she was the only mid-semester transfer at the time, Jimin had the luck of spending the entire day with you, just the two of you.

You captivated her immediately. Your soft, angelic voice, dry sense of humor, and those big brown eyes that lit up with excitement over the smallest things…like the library. Jimin had thought you were the lamest, cutest little thing she’d ever met. And from that moment, she was hooked.

Jimin made it her mission to sweep you off your feet. Surprised but not surprised, you had plenty of admirers. You were popular, down-to-earth, and undeniably beautiful, the kind of person who effortlessly drew others in. That only made Jimin's task harder, pushing her to work tirelessly to win your heart.

To everyone else, you were the classy student ambassador, smart, athletic, and poised. But Jimin knew the truth: beneath all that polish, you were a total nerd. 

So, she went out of her way to prove how much she cared. She’d pick you up from class with your favorite snacks, even when her schedule was packed.

She once secretly drove across state lines to attend an anime expo, just to get you those rare Pokémon cards you’d been obsessing over…though she swore she lost at least a million cool points doing it. But every second was worth it when she saw your face light up. Jimin even sat through every Avengers movie, biting back sarcastic remarks just to see you smile. 

Before long, you were hers and she was yours. You found yourself snuggled into her arms during late-night movie marathons, or cheering from backstage as she started entering dance competitions.

You were her there to support when she doubted herself after losing a dance battle, always ready with a hug and soft kisses. You were AESPA's unofficial fifth member, helping them set up for street performances and cheering louder than anyone else when they won.

And when AESPA skyrocketed to fame, you stood faithfully by her side, despite the growing distance you felt creeping in. 

But fame did something to Jimin. Slowly, the girl who once drove hours for Pokémon cards began to lose sight of the things that mattered. You were the first to notice the changes. Jimin started craving the spotlight more than anything else, and you quietly faded into the shadows.

You stopped bringing up your hobbies after a fan on her livestream mocked you for being childish. You stopped asking her for late-night drives when her excuses became more frequent. And you stopped waiting for her to notice how tired you looked, how empty you felt. 

She didn’t notice when you began packing up your prized Pokémon collection, throwing it all away as if erasing a piece of yourself. She didn’t notice when you started leaving events early, hiding the hurt behind a polite smile. Jimin was so caught up in her world of adoration, flashing lights, and applause that she failed to see you slipping through her fingers. 

She didn’t notice until it was far too late. By the time she turned around, desperate to hold onto what was left, you were already gone. She had lost you. And in losing you, she lost the part of herself that had once felt complete.

.

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.

.

“C’mon, Jimin. Get out of your head.” Jimin slapped her forehead in frustration as she stumbled through the routine once again.

The sound of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor was followed by a collective groan from the rest of the girls, who collapsed onto the studio floor in exhaustion. AESPA was under pressure. They were supposed to perfect a dance routine for a massive ad collaboration, a career-defining moment. But with finals looming and the team juggling school and practice, their patience was wearing thin. 

“I’m really sorry, guys,” Jimin said quietly, glancing at her exhausted teammates sprawled on the floor.

Aeri’s pink hair stuck to her damp face, and Minjeong lay flat on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling like she’d lost her will to live. 

“It’s been three months, Jimin.” NingNing sighed, rubbing her temples. “When are you going to get over her? This isn’t like you.” 

“I’m trying,” Jimin muttered, her gaze locked on her scuffed sneakers, her throat tight with unshed tears. “But at the same time…I don’t want to.” 

“Well, what do you want, then?” Aeri asked, sitting up with a tired glare.

She was drained. She was tired of practice, of exams, and most of all, of watching her leader spiral into a deep abyss of self-hatred and regret in front of her. 

Jimin hesitated, her dark brows knitting together as if weighing the weight of her answer.

“I want her back,” she finally admitted. “I want Y/N back.” 

“Absolutely not,” Minjeong snapped, suddenly sitting up and joining the conversation. Her arms crossed, and her expression was livid. “You broke her, Jimin. You fucking broke her heart.” 

Jimin lowered her head, guilt weighing heavy on her shoulders, but her she had already made this decision days ago. After finding one of your old LEGO pieces buried under her bed, a reminder of simpler, happier times, she had cradled it in her hands and cried like a baby.

That night, she spiraled into a social media stalking session, scrolling through your photos, searching for any trace of the love she had destroyed. That was when she decided she’d do whatever it took to make things right. 

“I’ll treat her right this time,” Jimin whispered, her voice trembling.

“I’ll do anything to make her happy.” 

Minjeong stood abruptly, storming over to Jimin, her smaller frame radiating fiery anger. Despite the height difference, Jimin instinctively cowered under Minjeong’s glare. 

“Do you know how many times she came to me crying in the middle of the night because you couldn’t even show up for a date? How insecure you made her feel? How your stupid fangirls tore her apart?” Minjeong jabbed a finger into Jimin’s chest with every accusation.

“She’s my best friend, Jimin. I won’t let you hurt her again. She gave you everything. She gave you so many chances, and you let her down every single time.” 

The room crackled with tension as Jimin’s lips parted to respond, but no words came out. Sensing a fight about to break out, NingNing and Aeri hurriedly stepped between the two girls. 

“Hey, now’s not the time to fight,” NingNing said gently, wrapping her arms around Minjeong’s shoulders to pull her back. “We all care about Y/N, okay? Let’s take a second.” 

“Please,” Jimin pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. Tears rimmed her eyes, but there was an earnestness in her tone that softened her hardened edges.

“Just give me a chance. I swear I’ll never hurt her again.” 

“No. No fucking way,” Minjeong snapped, her voice firm. 

“How about we let Y/N decide herself?” Aeri suggested cautiously, flinching slightly under Minjeong’s searing glare.

“Jimin can talk to her. If she says no…then that’s it. Jimin walks away and never bothers her again.” 

The blonde hesitated. She knew how deeply you had loved Jimin and how much it had cost you when things fell apart. Letting Jimin reach out could undo all the progress you’d made. But at the same time…if she stopped this, would you resent her for it? 

With a heavy sigh, Minjeong finally relented. “Fine. Just one sentence. If she reacts badly to whatever you say, you stay the hell away from her. For good.” 

Jimin’s lips curved into a genuine smile for the first time in months, a smile full of hope, the kind that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

“One sentence is more than enough to make her remember.”

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.

.

They say the easiest way to someone's heart is through their stomach, so Jimin threw herself into her first mission with relentless determination. The five-hour drive to Busan and back didn’t faze her—this was for you. She needed to remind you of the small things, the little joys you used to share.

The memory of your trips together flooded her mind: your hand in hers, your voice belting off tune to whichever K-pop song was stuck in your head, and your infectious laughter filling the car. She prayed to the gods to hear that laugh again. 

By the time she returned to Seoul, the darkness of the night had already cloaked the streets. Armed with the pink box of macarons from your hometown bakery, Jimin’s heart raced with anticipation and dread. Aeri had passed along a tip (reluctantly overheard from Minjeong, who would never willingly disclose your whereabouts to Jimin) that you were working a shift at the local bistro. 

When Jimin walked into the cozy bistro, the soft chime of the bell drew attention from other patrons. Murmurs rippled through the room as people recognized her, AESPA’s leader, a rising star. But Jimin’s focus was on you. Only you. 

You stood behind the counter, your hair tied up in a messy bun, concentrated on preparing a tray of drinks. You weren’t as put-together as you are in school, with your crisp white shirt bearing faint creases, but to Jimin, you were as breathtaking as ever. 

She made her way to the counter, sitting directly in front of you. She waited, patient and quiet, as you prepared another Long Island, your tongue sticking out in concentration. 

“Hi, sorry for the wait. What can I—” You froze mid-sentence as your eyes met hers.

Recognition flickered across your face, followed by a flash of pain. Your expression changed into something cold, guarded. 

“No.” Your tone was flat, final. “Please leave.” 

Jimin didn’t flinch. Her gaze softened, a melancholic smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t respond, she couldn’t. Not yet, she only had one chance. All she knew was that seeing you here within an arms length, was enough to momentarily soothe the ache in her chest. 

As much as you tried to suppress it, your heart betrayed you, fluttering at the sight of her. Jimin looked effortlessly stunning, her leather jacket rolled up to reveal familiar tattoos snaking down her forearm. She was exactly how you remembered and yet entirely different. 

She stared at you for another moment, her silence unnerving. Her eyes brimmed with emotions you couldn’t understand. Finally, Jimin rose to her feet, placed the pink box on the counter, and lightly squeezed your arm before turning to leave. 

You stared at the box, stunned, your mind reeling. It was from your favorite bakery in Busan, the one she had driven hours to visit countless times when you were together. Your chest tightened as you realized the lengths she must’ve gone to for this gesture. 

But you couldn’t let yourself fall for her again. Not this time. 

“I’ll be right back!” you yelled to your coworker, grabbing the box as you stormed out of the bistro.

The cold November air bit at your skin as you scanned the street for her. 

You found her leaning against a lamppost, a cigarette dangling from her lips. The sight stopped you in your tracks. When had she started smoking again? Fury flared in your chest. You strode toward her, plucking the cigarette from her fingers and tossing it to the ground. 

“What the hell, Jimin?” you snapped, glaring at her. “I thought you quit.” 

She continued to stay silent, her dark eyes fixed on you as if trying to engrave your face in her memories.

Your anger wavered. You shouldn’t care. You couldn’t care. Not after everything. Shoving the pink box back into her hands, you hissed, “Don’t ever come to this bistro again.” 

The words tasted bitter, and regret coiled in your stomach the moment they left your lips. But you couldn’t take them back. Not now. 

Jimin nodded wordlessly, her lips curling into a soft, bittersweet smile—one that inexplicably cut deeper than any argument could. With that, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the cold night. 

.

.

.

.

It seemed after that night, Jimin had made it her mission to claw her way back into your life, whether you wanted her to or not. She didn’t speak, didn’t push, but her presence was always there, an unspoken reminder of everything you’d once shared.

You could feel her eyes on you during lunch, lingering from across the cafeteria as if she thought she could will you to look back. Even on your way to work, you swore you’d catch her silhouette in the distance, leaning against a lamppost or sitting on a nearby bench, always careful not to cross any boundaries but still there.

The weekends were no escape either. When AESPA was invited to perform at the school fair you unfortunately was in charge of organizing, it felt like fate, or perhaps Jimin, was mocking you. She stood front and center, capturing attention with her effortless charm, but every so often her eyes would search for yours in the crowd, a desperate glance that left you feeling raw and exposed.

What annoyed you most, though, was her silence. She never spoke to you, never tried to bridge the impossible gap between you. And yet, as much as it infuriated you, you hated to admit how much you missed her voice.

The way it would rasp slightly in the mornings when she whispered sweet nothings into your ear, or the confident drawl she carried when talking to others.

This Jimin, silent and unsure, almost timid, felt like a stranger. It was disarming, and you weren’t sure if you hated her for it or if it broke your heart just a little more.

As much as you tried to build walls around yourself, Jimin had a way of chipping at them, bit by bit, with gestures that felt achingly familiar.

One evening when you finally left the library, you found a gift on the hood of your car, neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, was a book you had mentioned loving once, years ago before you got together with her, a rare edition of poetry that you never got the chance to buy.

Tucked inside was a small card with her unmistakable handwriting:

For when you need an escape.– J

Your heart twisted painfully, remembering how she used to surprise you with little things like this, whether it was a book, a drink she knew you loved, or a random trinket that reminded her of you.

Another day, on your way home from a long shift, you found her waiting by the campus fountain. She didn’t approach, didn’t say anything, just held out a single stem of a sunflower, your favorite flower, the kind she used to bring to your dorm every time you aced an exam.

You wanted to yell at her, to demand why she was doing this now, but instead, you took the flower silently, clutching it tightly all the way home.

The memories came rushing back. The way she used to sit with you for hours in the library, pretending to study but really just stealing glances at you over the top of her books. How she’d wake up early to walk you to class, even if it meant cutting her own sleep short. The nights she stayed up late with you on the phone, talking about nothing and everything until you both fell asleep to the sound of each other's breathing.

Jimin knew exactly how to unravel you, and she was relentless in her quiet persistence.

Another day, after a particularly stressful day, you find yourself staring at a box left outside your apartment. Inside was a Slowpoke doll (you used to call her your SlowPoke because she was always running late and had a knack for falling asleep in random places) and a note: 

I know how these made you feel like you weren’t good enough, but these are the things I love about you. All your interests, your little habits…don’t stop.

You shoved the box under your bed in a haze of shame and anger. You’d given up your obsession with Pokémon long ago, sacrificing that part of yourself just to appease her fans and their cruel remarks. But as the days stretched on, your resolve wavered. You caught yourself glancing at the box more often than you cared to admit, the memories flooding into your mind. 

Eventually, you couldn’t help yourself. With a reluctant sigh, you pulled the Slowpoke doll from the box and placed it on your bed. That night, you held it close as you drifted off to sleep, comforted by a piece of the past you thought you’d lost. 

Each gesture tugged at the guarded heart. You hated her for how easily she slipped back into your life, even as you found yourself clutching the flower she’d given you, rereading her notes late into the night, and biting your lip to suppress the warmth spreading in your chest.

You hated her, and yet, you couldn’t deny your feelings for her. You never could.

.

.

.

.

You wrapped your scarf tightly around your neck, shielding yourself from the brisk evening wind as you waited for Minjeong outside the movie theater.

The newest Marvel movie had finally been released, and although you’d downplayed your excitement, your heart raced. Your lame obsession with Avengers had always been a sore spot, especially since Jimin’s fangirls used it to mock you mercilessly.

Over time, you tried to bury that part of yourself, to hide how much you still adored superheroes. It was easier than facing the ridicule—or the memories tied to it. 

When Minjeong, your best friend since elementary school, asked if you wanted to see the movie, you hesitated at first. But her easy acceptance of your quirks had always been earnest, so you agreed.

The sound of tires crunching gravel pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see a sleek black Mercedes pulling into the parking lot. Minjeong stepped out, her face drawn in a disgruntled scowl. She spotted you and quickly brightened, crossing the space in a few brisk strides before pulling you into a warm hug. 

“Hey, Y/N-nie. Have you been waiting long?” she asked, her voice light, though her body was stiff against yours. 

You shook your head, but something about her demeanor made you pause. Your gaze drifted back to the car, the sleek black exterior gleaming under the parking lot lights. A pit formed in your stomach as realization hit. 

“Was that… Jimin?” you asked cautiously. 

Minjeong froze. Her jaw tightened, her grip on your arms faltering slightly before she let out a resigned sigh. She avoided your eyes as she nodded.

“Yeah,” she admitted reluctantly. 

“She’s the one who asked me to bring you here,” Minjeong added after a pause. Her tone was careful, measured, as though she were treading on thin ice. “She even bought the tickets beforehand.” 

You blinked at her, stunned. 

“I didn’t want to do it,” Minjeong continued quickly, frustration in her voice. “I told her this was a bad idea, but…” She trailed off, biting her lip as her gaze dropped to the ground.

“She was persistent.” 

Your heart did a strange flip at that. You could almost picture Jimin sitting across from Minjeong, stubborn as ever, insisting that she take you to the movie. She must have known showing up herself would only push you away, so she found a way to make sure you’d still see it. It was so… Jimin. Thoughtful in a way that made your chest ache. 

“She’s been doing things like this for weeks,” Minjeong muttered, almost to herself. “Little things. She thinks they’ll fix everything.” Her round eyes flickered with an anger she didn’t bother to hide.

“I told her to leave you alone. I told her you didn’t need her messing things up again.” 

“She hasn’t been bothering me,” you said softly, reaching out to squeeze Minjeong’s hand in reassurance when her voice grew sharp.

“I promise, Jeongnie. She hasn’t done anything. Don’t worry.” 

Minjeong’s shoulders sagged slightly, but her lips pressed into a tight line. “Has she talked to you yet?” 

You shook your head. “No. Weirdly, she hasn’t said a word. Just… left some gifts every now and then.” 

At that, Minjeong’s eyes widened, and she groaned, slapping her forehead.

“I’m so stupid,” she muttered, half to herself. 

“What?” you asked, confused by her sudden exasperation. 

She shook her head quickly, waving the question away. “Nothing. Come on, let’s go inside. The movie’s about to start.” 

As she guided you toward the theater, her arm looped protectively through yours. Though Minjeong was close friends with the leader, it was clear she didn’t like Jimin trying to worm her way back into your life.

You could see it in the tightness of her jaw, the subtle furrow in her brow. She didn’t trust Jimin. Not her promises, not her intentions, and certainly not her ability to heal the wounds she’d caused. After all, it had been Minjeong who had patiently helped you piece yourself back together, bit by bit.

And yet, the fact that she’d brought you here today, using Jimin’s tickets, betrayed the tiny sliver of hope she held for her.

.

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.

.

This was the fifth time that day Jimin walked past the bistro, casually peering through the windows with her hands stuffed in her leather jacket pockets before walking away.

You watched her each time, fidgeting, kicking the ground with her boots, looking like she wanted to step inside but was holding back. It was endearing, not that you’d admit it. But every time, she chose to walk away, opting to follow your words from before instead.

It had begun to snow, and you couldn’t stop yourself from worrying.

“Stupid oaf,” you muttered, before slipping outside to call out Jimin’s name.

She was already on her sixth round of circling the bistro, her slender figure blending into the gray snowfall.

“Yoo Jimin!” You called, your breath forming a cloud in the cold air.

The raven-haired girl stopped in her tracks, her shoulders stiffening before she slowly turned around to look at you. A nervous grin tugged at her lips, and your heart fluttered involuntarily.

“Just…just come in.” You sighed, avoiding her gaze.

Jimin’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling with glee like a little kid as she quickly made her way over.

You led her through the busy bistro, past the tables full of customers, to the counter, exactly where she had sat the first time she came. You couldn’t help but feel self-conscious at the way she was staring at you, her face resting in her palms, eyes wide and starry.

Sighing, you pushed the menu to her. “What do you want to order?”

Jimin merely looked at you, a silly smile gracing her lips. Your eyes flickered to it, momentarily lost in the soft curve of her mouth and her luscious lips, before quickly looking away.

“Fine.” You mumbled, quickly pouring her a cup of warm coffee.

Fortunately, you were distracted by the steady stream of orders. It was a Saturday night, after all, and that meant people were coming in for drinks. You were busy making drinks, serving them, but with Jimin there, it felt different, lighter, happier.

That was when Joon, a usual customer and a tall, blurry figure, stumbled over to the counter, clearly drunk. You tensed instantly. Joon was always handsy when he drank, more often than not, and you always tried to stay out of his way.

“Y/NNNNN,” he slurred, leaning way too close for comfort, his breath heavy on the counter.

Jimin’s eyes narrowed, and you saw the muscles in her jaw clench.

“I missed you,” Joon continued, leaning forward, his gaze lingering in a way that made your stomach churn.

“How about we go on a date? My place is just around the corner.”

“I’m not interested, Joon.” You pushed back, trying to create some space. “Please, leave me alone.”

Joon’s expression twisted into something more sinister, his hand suddenly reaching over the counter to grab your arm, his fingers digging into your skin. You winced at the pressure, red marks forming on your arm as he held you tight.

That’s when Jimin had had enough. She stood up, towering over him, her height equal to his, but with a quiet strength that commanded attention.

“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Her.” Her voice was cold, and before you could react, she pushed Joon off, sending him stumbling backward into the wall.

Joon recovered quickly and swung at Jimin, narrowly missing her face by a hair. You stepped forward, panic flooding your chest, quickly pulling Jimin away from him.

“Let it go, Jimin,” you urged, your voice shaky as you tugged her close to you. “Please, stop.”

Jimin hesitated, her eyes softening as she looked at you. She reached down and gently cradled the arm that Joon had grabbed, her cold fingers brushing over the tender skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

“I’m okay,” you said, trying to reassure her.

She looked like she was about to say something when a yell from your coworkers snapped your attention back to the scene. You turned just in time to see Joon charging forward, having managed to break free from the grip of your coworkers. His fist collided with Jimin’s temple with a sickening crunch, and she crumpled to the floor.

You screamed, panic rising as onlookers rushed to contain Joon. Jimin lay motionless, and you immediately knelt by her side, heart racing.

“Jimin?” You screamed, rushing to her side. The blood had already begun to trickle down her temple, and a bruise was swelling rapidly.

You knelt beside her, panic clawing at your chest. “Jimin? Baby? Please, wake up.”

You cupped her pale face in your trembling hands, her skin cool against your palms. She was so still, and it terrified you.

After a few moments of desperate attempts to rouse her, her eyelids finally fluttered open, and you let out a shaky breath of relief.

“Oh thank god,” you sighed out in relief, your chest tightening as her eyelids slowly fluttered open.

“Jimin? Can you hear me?”

Her cheeks were squished as your hands cupped her face. You might have found it cute if you weren’t so worried. Her dazed expression and the way her chubby cheeks puffed out only made your heart ache more.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked, a dopey smile still lingering on her lips.

You leaned back, running a hand through your hair in relief and exasperation.

“No, Jimin,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You just got punched. This is very real.”

Her grin faltered in realization. Her eyes widened in horror as she scrambled to sit up.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered, groaning in embarrassment, her hands shooting up to touch her tender forehead.

“Please forget I said anything. Please.”

She couldn’t believe that she wasted her only chance, her only sentence, just to ask her if you were real.

You reached out, gently stopping her from touching her injury. “Don’t touch. You’re bleeding.”

Your manager let you leave early after apologizing repeatedly to Jimin. After all, one of the biggest rising stars had just been injured in his bistro.

Jimin smiled good-naturedly and shrugged off his apologies, clearly not phased. She had refused to go to the hospital for a check-up, and unable to stop yourself, you found yourself driving her back to your apartment.

You promised yourself this was a one-time thing, that you were just being a caring, responsible friend. Anyone would’ve done the same for her, right?

As you led her into your room, she glanced around, the familiar space tugging at something in her heart. Her eyes landed on her sweatshirt that she had lost so long ago, still draped casually over the chair.

She noticed the absence of the photos on your vanity mirror, ones that once captured all the memories of the two of you. But, then, her gaze softened as it settled on the SlowPoke doll still sitting on your bed. Her heart skipped a beat. You had kept it.

You still cared, even if you seemed so distant, so far away.

Maybe, just maybe, you hadn't forgotten her love.

You paused in your tracks as you saw Jimin poking at the SlowPoke on your bed. You turned a brilliant shade of pink, flustered, before quickly ushering her to sit down so you could tend to her wound.

"Don't move," you muttered, your voice softer than you intended as you reached up gingerly to disinfect the cut on her temple.

She winced and hissed in pain but didn’t pull away, remaining still, her dark eyes never leaving your face. The closeness of your bodies was unnerving, her skin so warm under your touch, and that tight white shirt she wore, showing off her tattoos, only added to the flurry of thoughts rushing through your head.

Why did she have to be so damn beautiful?

Jimin, on the other hand, couldn’t take her eyes off you. The softness in your eyes and the gentleness of your touch, was making her heart race. She wasn’t sure if she'd ever have this chance again.

"Why are you doing this, Jimin?" you asked, your voice coming out a little more strained than you'd planned, your hands trembling as you applied a thin layer of medicine.

Jimin’s brows furrowed in confusion. "Doing what?"

"All this," you said, motioning between the two of you. "Not talking to me, but following me around... giving me gifts..."

Jimin paused, taking a deep breath, before saying, “I wanted to make you remember.”

“Remember what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you finished applying the medicine.

She let out a small breath, trying to steady herself. "Remember us."

She looked down at her hands, then back up at you, her voice growing quieter, more vulnerable. "And... make you remember my love for you."

You froze, your hands retreating from her face as your heart pounded in your chest. You searched her eyes, so open, so full of regret and hope.

And in that moment, you knew you still loved her too.

"Jimin..." You tried to form words, but your throat was tight, the emotions threatening to spill over. “I-“

Before you could finish, Jimin quickly knelt beside the bed, gently cradling your hand in hers and placing it in your lap.

“Please, give me another chance, Y/N,” she begged, the tears she had been holding back finally breaking free.

"These past few months without you have been... miserable. I know I hurt you. I know I lost myself, but I promise, I won’t let this happen again. I love everything about you, your softness, your quirky obsessions... everything. I’m sorry I didn’t reassure you when you were doubting yourself, or protect you from the hate.”

She took a shaky breath, and in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “I don’t think I could ever love anyone as much as I love you.”

Your heart clenched, the weight of her words crashing over you. The pain you had felt for so long, the loneliness that had settled deep in your soul, began to break. You missed her, but you're scared, so scared. Scared of trusting her again, scared of the hurt she could cause, scared of how much power she held over you.

“You hurt me, Jimin. So much,” you said softly, unable to keep the pain from your voice. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Jimin nodded, her face softening with understanding, though the sadness in her eyes remained. But she wasn’t giving up.

“I know,” she said, her voice steady. “But I will spend the rest of my life earning back your trust.”

And in that moment, with everything on the line, you finally gave in.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Her eyes widened, and that smile, so hopeful, so full of warmth, spread across her angelic face.

“Yes, Jimin. One chance.” You whispered, your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears.

“Yes!” Jimin punched the air lamely, her eyes sparkling as she grabbed your hand, pulling you up effortlessly.

Before you could even react, she spun you around in a twirl, making you let out a small scream in surprise. The sudden rush of laughter filled the room as you both stumbled and collapsed onto the bed, her arms immediately wrapping around you.

.

.

.

.

The soft thud of Jimin’s heartbeat was lulling you to sleep, a comforting rhythm that calmed your racing thoughts. You gently traced the ink on her forearms, each line and curve filled with her memories. Her steady breathing was a lullaby, peaceful and steady, as you cuddled up to her.

After tending to her injury, you had given her a change of clothes, and let her stay the night. She refused to let go of you, her arms wrapped tightly around you, her lips pressing soft, affectionate kisses to your forehead. It was a strange feeling, like nothing could go wrong in that moment.

For the first time in months, your heart felt whole again, free of the old pain that had lingered too long.

But then, a thought crept into your mind. Gently, you pulled away slightly, your eyes meeting the beautiful dancer’s.

She whined, unhappy at the space between you. You laughed softly, seeing the playful pout on her lips. Outside, she was fierce, confident, and intimidating even, but here, in front of you, she was just a clingy baby.

“I wanted to ask,” you began, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, “Why did you want me to forget about what you said at the bistro? When you told me to forget it?”

A faint pink blush spread across her cheeks, and she shifted uncomfortably, not meeting your eyes.

"It was because..." she trailed off, her voice hesitant, and you gently cupped her chin, forcing  her gaze to meet yours.

“Because of what?”

"Because Minjeong said I could only talk to you once. One sentence. If you reacted badly, I would have to leave your life for good," Jimin admitted, looking away in embarrassment.

"I couldn’t believe I wasted that one sentence on asking if you were real. I was scared Minjeong would beat me up if you got mad."

You stared at her in disbelief. "That was why you refused to speak to me?"

Jimin nodded, her lips twisting into a sheepish smile.

"You’re so fucking stupid, Jimin," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head, though a fond smile tugged at your lips.

"Thank god you’re good at dancing, or else I’d be worried about your future."

"Hey!" she whined, pushing you playfully. "I’m not stupid! It’s just... Minjeong is scary when she’s mad."

Unable to hold back your endearment for this stupid lovable girl, you finally leaned down to press your lips to hers.

Jimin froze, marveling at the feel of your soft lips against hers. She had been dreaming about this moment for so long, and she quickly kissed you back with just as much enthusiasm. The kiss was soft at first, tentative before it deepened following the quickening of your heart beats.

When the air between you became a problem, you both pulled away, gasping for breath, but neither of you made a move to break the closeness. Your foreheads rested together, and for a moment, you just smiled into the space between your lips.

“What did you plan to say then?” You whispered, still breathless from the kiss, “The sentence.”

“Oh, I was going to say: Look at this cool tattoo I got.” She said mischievously, before sitting up and pulling off her shirt, leaving herself in nothing but a bra top.

You blushed immediately, eyes instinctively flicking to the defined muscles of her abs as she twisted to show you the back of her shoulders. For a moment, you couldn’t help but be distracted by the way her muscles flexed before your gaze landed on a small patch of ink on the corner of her right shoulder.

“You got a tattoo of a Charmander?” you sputtered, almost disbelieving.

“Yeah, it’s cute, right?” Jimin grinned, proud of herself.

“It reminded me of you. You have the same eyes as Charmander. And also, it’s your favorite Pokémon, so it’s a win-win.”

“Jimin, my favorite Pokémon is Chikorita…” you sighed, shaking your head in exasperation.

“Chikorita.” She repeated, her lips pursing in thought. “Not Charmander?”

“Not Charmander.”

She thought for a second, then shrugged with a grin. “At least it looks like you.”

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you grabbed the collar of her top and pulled her into another kiss, one that made her remember that you were definitely hers.

got a bit carried away so some scenes kinda dragged out 😬

but hope you all enjoyed this loserish version of jimin!

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

THE BATH- J. WASHINGTON

pairing: bf!josh x fem! reader

word count: who knows. small drabble

summary: you keep trying to have a bath at the lodge to warm up, but your golden retriever boyfriend josh keeps trying to come in and talk while you relax

warnings: none! nudity and light drinking, but all fluff

not proof read sorry for any mistakes!

not inspired by any song, but i listened to she calls me back by noah kahan while i wrote this, if people like music for vibes<3

got inspired for this drabble by none other then my cat, who keeps pushing the bathroom door open while im in the bath, and then leaves, and then when its shut he meows like crazy. yes josh is like a clingy cat.

it had been a long day, and the clock hadn't even struck ten yet. from hauling suitcases (josh hauling suitcases) and hours of (josh) driving, you had finally found yourself at blackwood mountain.

it was a relief, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for the place, despite the dust and creepy noises from the old pipes. everyone had already arrived by the time josh rushed in to start a fire for you, after he sae you shiver.

he had rushed you up to the doors, wrapping you in his coat and sticking his beanie on your head, making his pretty dark hair all tossled. you smiled at the thought that had happened a few hours prior, the pepper of kisses all over your face as he rushed you inside, wrapping you in fresh blankets- leaving the mothcovered ones for mike and chris.

it was weird in a way, to be here this year.

this was the first time you were here as a couple. before this, it had been years of slight touches and teasing, drunk forehead kisses and praises. but finally- finally you had gotten your wish. and apparently, josh had too.

a little knock sounded at the door, and you poked your eye open towards the door, neck rolling lazily from where it rest on the side of the bath.

"mike if you come in here right now i will chuck this candle at you." you called. the door poked open a creak, and a familiar eye peered over at you. "am i immune to candle throwing?" josh asked, making you giggle.

"you're in the clear." you smirked, water sloshing as you adjusted yourself so your elbows perched on the edge towards him. "hi handsome. whats up?"

"i missed you." he shrugged crouching down to be at your height, a soft smile on his face. "i think its been.. like twenty? twenty mintues maybe?" you teased, making him roll his eyes.

"i also wanted to take advantage of this whole, bathroom thing. you know how many times i wanted to come in before? now i can. boyfriend access only." he smirked, hand coming up to brush your warm cheek, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. his hand lingered and you leaned to kiss his inner wrist, savouring the softness of his skin.

"i think you're just a pervert. and clingy."

josh rolled his eyes. "god forbid men have hobbies. can i not be both?"

you laughed, kissing him again.

"i just wanted to come in to see if you needed anything. and cause i missed you, and chris is drunk and trying to get me to play president with him and matt."

he nearly became asshole in that game everytime. he was terrible at cards.

"what, you dont wanna be asshole again?"

"something like that. i like your ass though."

your eyebrow raised. "don't we all." you teased. "but hey, if you're offerring me something... maybe.. a glass of wine?"

he stood quickly, giving you a firm salute. he drank with you enough times to know exactly what kind you wanted without needing to ask. "godspeed pilgrim!" he ran out of the room, leaving the door wide open as he left.

"HEY! DOOR?! CLOSED PLEASE? IM NAKED!" you yelled out.

"OOOH NAKED?" you heard sam call out from the main room, making you roll your eyes. now you had them all riled up.

two seconds later, josh reappeared, glass of white in hand, water in the other. "thank you honey, but maybe next time shut the door? i almost had an audience." you cringed, taking the chilled wine glass from his hands. you took a sip, the sweet, dry liquid coating your throat.

"i get front row next time." he shrugged, planting a kiss on the top of your head before he snagged your towel.

"kay i'll leave you be baby. but im taking this so you have to come find me naked to dry off." he smirked, dangling the fabric in your direction before slipping out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

before you had time to protest, he was gone. you closed your eyes, sighing as you took another sip. he was such a tease. but thats what you loved about him. he never failed to make you laugh, he was so quick and witty.

it also meant he liked to get on your nerves, lovingly.

no longer then five minutes later, a knock was on your door. "yes?"

"its me again." josh murmered from behind the oak. you smiled, laughing softly.

"come in joshy." he sheeplishly smiled, sliding his large body through the doorway, firmly shutting it behind him. a deck of cards was in his hands as he approached you, sitting down on the tile floor next to the tub.

"can you play president with me?" he asked, starting to take the cards out of the paper box.

"baby, you can't play with two people."

he frowned. "well, can you teach me how to do this again? so i can kick everyones ass?"

you smiled. "of course baby. my sore, sore loser."

[morgan-tha-gorgan]

Something I don't see enough people talking about is how Deadpool and Wolverine isn't so much a starting point as it is a send off to an era of movies of which we will never see again.

I recently watched the first Xmen movie and it feels so completely different to what we have today. It was almost like it was embarrassed to call itself a superhero movie and instead was going for sleek action movie, which was quite popular in the late 90's and early 20-aughts. It felt like everyone was wearing black jumpsuits because they were afraid they wouldn't be taken seriously by mainstream movie goers. (Another common theme of the time period).

Jump to 24 years later and it is a very different world. Not only do we have grown people crying in theaters over Wolverine's classic yellow suit, but people went wild when he pulled on his mask...could you see people in 2000 having that kind of reaction to that mask? No. The movie would have been dead on arrival. Comic fans would have ate the shit up. But I don't think mainstream audiences were ready for that sincere of a choice in wardrobe. It took us 24 years to get to where Hugh Jackman could wear that suit, and I think it was worth the wait.

The credit scene clips from the past 25ish years of Xmen movies and other Fox productions made me cry, not just bc of the song choice (the universal song used to invoke nostalgia) but because you saw how much they loved making those movies. That they were always fun to make. And even though no one had yet cracked the formula on how to put superheros on film, they put their whole pussies into it. And some results were great and some we still kinda use as punchlines to this day. And yet, both were represented in Deadpool and Wolverine in a loving way. Electra was not nearly as beloved as Blade. But I still heard both characters getting a cheer when they appeared.

It is possible they will make a second Deadpool and Wolverine movie. But I don't think it was the intention. Ryan Reyolds and Hugh Jackman both met on the set of Xmen Origins: Wolverine. Ryan was so taken with his character he spent the next 7ish years trying to force it into existence. Whereas Hugh spent those same 7ish years playing the same character and was happy to put him to rest. It just so happens they both wanted to make this movie together. And bc they were some of the original actors from the beginning of the genre, the movie ended up being about their friendship, with some sendoffs to old favorites who maybe never got to be in the limelight the way they did.

This movie deftly mixes sincerity with humor. It doesn't make fun of the audience for what they like. Instead it respected our love for these characters and their stories. No matter how weird or ridiculous they may seem on the surface, there is a heart and a love there between writers, actors, and audience.

And they got that. Shawn Levy, Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman really got it. And so this movie was a love letter to all superhero movies: the ones we hold dear to our hearts regardless of how "succesful" they were.

It is like what Movies with Mikey says, "Every movie is a miracle," and Deadpool and Wolverine celebrate that.

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9

Chapter 10. - Chapter 11. - Chapter 12

Chapter 13. - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15

Word Count: 1410

Chapter 15:

After your little talk with Rio, you wandered around the room; keeping an eye on everyone as you went.

You could see that Alice was uncomfortable being around, trying not to touch anything while nostalgia was hidden behind her round red tinted glasses.

Your attention went mostly to Lilia, who had returned to the main room shaken, and you swore she could be on the verge of tears. Glancing behind her, you faintly noticed certain arts on the wall; depicting witches burning at the stake.

Lilia was the oldest amongst you all. You knew that much. You suspected she had bad memories from the time of the trials and felt sympathetic once you .theorised she must have lost friends that way.

Considering her prophetic abilities, you could not comprehend how outcast she must have felt back then.

As you all gathered in the main room, you realized two people were missing... Agatha and Rio.

Narrowing your eyes faintly, you were about to go find them when the speakes got activated. You heard clearly what was supposed to be the conversation between the two witches; coming from the outer part of the recording booth.

"I get the pleasure of watching you do what you do best." Rio voice was heard over the PA.

Agatha's followed next. "Which is?"

"Killl all the witches around you. One by one."

"Then what?"

"You get your power, and I get my bodies."

Agatha gasped loudly. "Hey! That's my coven you're talking about. I'm m not that kind of witch anymore."

Immediately, the three witches rushed towards the booth; clearly furious with what they had just heard.

You trailed back, hesitant to follow your rushing emotions and thoughts.

Something was not right, and you knew it.

Agatha had tried to frame Rio, perhaps to make the coven mistrust her? Or to make herself sound better and regain some of their confidence to her?

You were not sure.

What you were sure about was Agatha's gasp and last words. That spesific gasp and tone was fake, an overdramatic reaction; a mere acting moment to make others buy it.

You remained further back from the group but close enough, to ensure no one would be throwing hands anytime soon.

Their arguments were loud in your ears but then a different sound reached you. Like nails against a blackboard, like a pin draged against glass...

The background demonic and loud noise seemed to strike deep into your magical core and even in your mind, causing you inscrutiating pain.

Before you knew it, you were on your knees; hands pressed tightly against your ears in a futile attempt to block the noise. You made no sound but by the way you bit your bottom lip, it was evident you were in pain.

The rest of the coven had similar reactions, some like Alice and Jen reacting strongly; yet not to the level you did.

Rio was the one least bothered, and Teen tried his best not to react to it. While being busy to explain, he played a record backwards; causing all this.

While everyone was fighting against it, it was Agatha who dared to act.

She was the first to see you on your knees, trying hard to block the sound from driving you mad and he knew that face of yours... the face when you were in pain.

Her own ears hurt and she swore this sound would haunt her nightmares for the years to come but she had to act.

The others were too weak, and she would not be standing there while you were in pain.

She had no idea what was happening, but if it affected you that way, it was bad. She did not stay to think about it and merely grabbed the record player before smashing it to the ground.

To ensure the job was done, she stepped on it and the cursed record; ensuring the sound would stop, and it did.

Now, free of whatever was that, you all took a moment to gather yourself.

You slowly stood up, taking silent deep breaths before you felt a metallic taste in your mouth. Bringing your hand towards your face, your fingers touched something wet against your lips. Upon inspecting it, you realized it was blood... your blood.

To try and fight the pain, you had bit your lip so hard you had actually bled it.

You tried to hide your shock and quickly wiped the evidence with the back of your sleeve, all while avoiding Agatha's intended gaze; not wishing to decipher it at the moment.

Yet Agatha kept watching, eyes darker at the sight of your bleeding lip. She could not help but remember the times she had bitten your lip enough to draw blood, only to lick it and then kiss you with hunger; letting you also taste what your blood felt like.

She managed to focus on the present, not letting her thoughts and fantasies get the best of her.

There were still things she had to focus on.

"We've been cursed." Lilia suddenly said as she recognised what had taken place.

At least that made some sense to you, though you had never truly been cursed; not that way. Physical curses had been your biggest enemy but you could fight, purify them even when the moon was full.

Now verbal... it seemed to be a loophole into everything. You were not how to feel about that.

You didn't have the time to do so, either, for a metronome on the piano nearby started to tick.

"I think this means the trial started." Teen pointed out.

Jen took notice that Rio was not exactly shocked or even scared, like the rest. "Why are you smiling?"

Agatha rolled her eyes. "She's a tourist." Was her argument.

Once again, Jen did not agree. "She's a psycho."

"And nothing's happening." Teen pointed out. "Maybe this curse isn't so bad."

You immediately locked your sharp gaze at him, making him feel uncomfortable. One finger was pointed in his direction.

"Do not, under any circumstance, say those words again." Your voice was serious, and it made every single hair on his body stand on end. "Last thing we need is the Road proving us wrong"

As if your words had once again predicted the future, something unexpected happened.

Lilia started to fan herself with her hands, feeling hotter when suddenly she started to scream. You swore you could see some sort of faint smoke coming from beneath her clothing, and the smell of burning flesh quickly reached your nose.

"It burns!" She shouted, grabbing an invisible wound by her shoulder.

Everyone stood close in panic, not sure how to help when Jen remembered something.

"Alice, protect her." She instructed her fellow witches.

Just like her assigned role, Alice did what she had to do. Using Rio's knife, she carved a circle around a screaming Lilia while changing a protection spell in Latin.

By the time the circle was complete, Lilia was laying on the floor but she was no longer burning by some invisible power.

Jen looked terrified. "I need you to draw one of those circles around me, right now"

You paid her no mind as you helped Lilia stand. You did not ask her anything but you could see in her eyes that she was thankful for your help .

"So, breaking a curse," Teen started as he tried to think what he knew. "Smudge sticks? A salt bath... What if we locate and reason with the witch who cast the curse?"

"Once vengeance is loosed, you can't reel it back in." You so wisely commneted as you stopped holding and supporting Lliliam

"So what do we do?"

Once again, the older witch had an answer. "The only way to end a curse is to face it."

New screams drew your attention and everyone turned to Jen, who was suffering the same effects of the curse.

Alice rushed to repeat the protective circle, doing her best to be fast and save Jen from suffering this burning sensation for long.

Surprisingly, when she was done; something became noticable. Jen's skin seemed to bear a mark, a burnt brand on her skin.

Lilia confirmed she had the same, making you all exchange looks of worry with one another.

This was new, way more physical than the other trial, and you were not sure you liked it that much.

Chapter 16

[nilsavatar]

DAY 31 - A/B/O

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!Avatar

Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI +18, no use of Y/N, ANGST, SMUT in the end, love bites, rubbing, sexual tension, olfactophilia (they both turn on by smelling arousal/pheromones), P in V, manhandling, oral (f receiving), face fucking, fingering, praising, cursing, pet name (ma’uniltı`ranyu - my dreamwalker), rough, knotting, dirty talk, overstimulation, edging, strangers to lovers, first time (first heat, loss of avatar body virginity), begging, difference in power (alpha-omega dynamics), soft-dom Neteyam (mention of marking, possessive behavior but he’s kind and caring), Jamie Flatters cameo. All characters are AGED-UP.

Summary: Living in the body of an avatar is not as simple as one might think.

Little note: OMG! You have no idea how happy I am to have finally finished this fic. It has been on hiatus for so many months that I thought I would never publish it. The more time passed, the more the pressure to write something worth the long wait increased. I rewrote it so many times, but it never seemed good enough, and the editing was exhausting. I hope with all my heart not to disappoint your expectations. Please be forgiving: this is my first Omegaverse. Thank you🥰

If you would like to be tagged in future fics, please write it in the comments. I will be happy to add you all💕

Word Count: 7,6k

Masterlist - Request a fic

Aubree’s knowledge as a xenobiologist fell short in front of the challenges of living as a dreamwalker among the Na’vi.

The presence of a secondary sex was fascinating, fictional in the eyes of a human being, accustomed to a binary system. But on Pandora, things were way different. The natives displayed their primary sex (male or female) from birth, and their roles in the clan were influenced by signs that emerged during puberty. Alphas, predominantly men, possessed a massive physiognomy. Tall, muscular, strong-willed, controlled in character, yet predisposed to irascibility. Betas were the largest group, with an equal proportion of females and males, and the most human-like. Omegas, mostly women, were known for their petite and delicate build, along with a calming demeanor.

When she arrived on Pandora, she had no particular expectations of what her avatar’s designation would be. Still, no one would ever have considered a potential alpha looking at her features. Aubree was a spitfire who was unlikely to be pushed around and knew her stuff in professional terms. Someone who won’t let you get away with nothing. However, her dainty physique and conflict-avoiding tendency were clear indications she would be an omega (or beta at best). The moment she connected with the hybrid, clarity rained down on her like a burst of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Her own body erupted in a chorus of sensations, each one clamoring for attention. It was as if every nerve ending had awoken from a deep sleep, demanding to be felt. The omega within seemed to mold itself to her presence, wrapping around her with the natural warmth of a long-lost sibling's affection. Its voice, like a lullaby, soothed tenderly in her ears, caressed her senses, evoking a bittersweet nostalgia. It had waited for her for a lifetime, patiently biding, though she felt as if it had always been there; their destinies entwined for eternity. The connection felt familiar as if it had always been an integral part of her existence, hidden deep within her soul, longing to be seen. A joyous reunion with her inner essence, theirs, rather than a discovery of something new about herself. As her eyes fluttered open, the blinding white light of the hospital room assaulted her vision, her first instinct was to cry. Overwhelmed by the pent-up emotions that had been building within her.

Yet another factor played a role — a negative note. The recognition wasn’t exclusive to her; everyone around her, from the very moment she had awoken as an avatar, had sensed, smelled what she was. And this made it obvious why omegas often experienced such a designation as a condemnation.

Alphas’ attentions may be... excessive.

From a human perspective, Na’vi were naturally intrusive. The concept of personal space between the two species was totally at odds; they were prone to be close, to touch each other, to smell each other. A fundamental part of their socialization techniques. Aubree could have learned to tolerate it as a cultural trait if her alpha-designated colleagues didn’t engage in the same behaviors. They couldn’t help themselves.

“It’s the pheromones,” said matter-of-fact Max, not having any other scientific explanation. Studies on the subject were stalled. Without a vomeronasal organ connected to the brain, or terrestrial examples to refer to, they couldn’t describe the phenomenon. The only thing palpable to both of them, equally inexplicable, was that her wake was inviting. Alphas were almost reduced to a primal state around her. “You should talk to the Tsahìk about this,” Aubree mentally berated herself for not thinking of it sooner. Who better than the Tsahìk, the spiritual leader of the clan and the highest authority among healers, to provide her with the answers she sought? And maybe even help in dealing with the symptoms.

*

The healers’ tent wasn’t large. Quite the opposite, it was indeed small. The room appeared even tinier with the disorganized heap of things stacked on top of each other in a jumbled mess, creating the feeling it could burst at any time. An imminent threat to be fair. However, under scrutiny, one could discern an order in the distribution of the items. To her right, tools of various types and sizes covered the entire wall. To the left, on shelves arranged by color, were terracotta jars filled with powders and ointments. Some were large, others tiny; some had regular shapes, others were bizarre, tongued, or angular. Engraved on the bottom of each were symbols. An early form of writing, considering the People were still oral.

A little further down, the counter ran around the entire interior of the room to the nearest post of mattresses where sicks could rest. Behind the cupboard was the massiest shelf of all. Ampoules, mirrors, rolls of cloth, baskets of bandages, needles, and flowers stuffed somehow. That place was a unique contradiction, ranging from manic order to disturbing chaos. Despite the dimness and the oppressive atmosphere, the tent also emitted a serene, welcoming feeling, akin to the mystical aura of a shaman’s lair.

But one not was out of place. Post-its here and there written in… English? What were post-its doing in the Tsahìk tent? They were so out of context.

“I see the human touch doesn’t go unnoticed.” Aubree gasped, more at the dull sound of something heavy being moved across the counter than the surprise itself. A woman emerged from the myriad of baskets scattered across the floor, placed one on the wooden shelf, and emptied its contents. Her hair, just above her chin, was straight but messy. The tswin, displayed in front of her chest, obscured the huge needle that hung from her slender neck. At every movement, the beads of the intricate shawl that covered her shoulders and breasts jingled, as lively as a child’s laughter. A streaked cerulean complexion set off lemon-yellow irises fixed upon her like those of a cat.

How old was she? Her face appeared youthful, almost adolescent, yet her eyes betrayed wisdom and worldliness far beyond her years.

“You must be Aubree. I was waiting for you to show up.” It seemed as if the healer’s pupils flickered at the sound of her name. The avatar stepped forward. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Kiri te Suli Kireysi’ite, Tsahìk of the Omatikaya.” Acting on impulse, she extended her hand, but when the young woman didn’t shake it, she hastily corrected the gesture into the typical bow of greeting and reverence. She looked amused.

“No need for formality here. We are the same age and are both researchers. We have more in common than you might think.” A smirk curved her plump lips as she put her fists on her sides. “To what do I owe the glee of your visit? I suppose you need to ask me something.” Her sudden remark made her jolt. The Na’vi woman stopped arranging the shelves and turned to look at her with anticipation. “Well?” “I wouldn’t know where to even start. It’s something I don’t fully understand,” she confessed. “Is it related to your dreamwalker body?” She nodded. “But humans cannot help you.” It wasn’t a question, but the scientist nodded anyway. Kiri drew a smile and disappeared behind a curtain that separated the room from the next one — a laboratory. After several minutes, she reappeared with a small box full of tea filters. “Have one in the morning and another in the evening. It’s a suppressant; it will quell your pheromones.”

Aubree blushed furiously. How…?

“I might be just a beta, but your wake is so strong that it knocked me out for a sec. I dare not imagine the effect you have on alphas.” “Not pleasant.” “Much too pleasant, you mean,” she chuckled. “Be careful not to abuse the drug. You wouldn’t want to find out about the side effects. And remember, it is a temporary remedy. Useless on the verge and during estrus.”

Estrus.

The idea hadn’t crossed her mind at all when she accepted her Ph.D. and joined the AVTR Program. She was so thrilled to pursue her dream she would have accepted any job proposal. And who was she to deny she had always felt a fascination about natives? Na’vi estrus cycle was highly articulated and varied by secondary sex designation. Beta females, like humans, had a menstrual cycle and were potentially always fertile, exhibiting no visual, behavioral, or olfactory signals announcing impending ovulation.

Quite a different story for omegas and alphas.

The former went into heat three times a year, about four months between cycles, and could last up to seven agonizing days in the absence of a partner to care for them. This was their peak fertility period. The latter rutted once a year, and the length of the inter-anestrus was unpredictable. In mated pairs wasn’t uncommon for one’s heat to trigger the other’s.

“What should I do when it happens?” “Well, the most natural advice would be to spend it with a playmate, preferably an alpha, as theirs are the only pheromones that have a calming effect on omegas. There is no risk of conception for those who are not mated, so as long as your kuru’s are not entwined, let go.” “Mm, alternatives?” “Lock yourself in a shelter until it ends, away from everyone. But that is the least desirable option. It’s terribly painful to face heat alone.” “I could stay disconnected as long as my avatar is in this state.” “Risking dying of dehydration and starvation in the meantime? Or worse, that some alpha will have fun at your expense?” Kiri hastened to say, noticing the scientist’s horrified expression. “Yes, it has happened, and I assure you that the physical memory of the trauma remains, even if consciousness was not present.” “But I’ll still have to log out myself. My human body needs care, too.” “All the more reason you should find someone to look after you, and quickly. Your first heat is approaching.”

As if that were a small thing.

“My intuition tells me you’ll be fine. Now go. And drink your infusion.” She was about to leave the tent when one last question left Aubree’s lips: “How will I know I’m in heat?” “Oh, trust me, you’ll know.”

She was so absorbed in Kiri’s words that she didn’t even notice the hungry glances she was catalyzing. Especially that of a distinguished man wearing a feathered cloak. The young Olo’eyktan followed her figure as she made her way back to the human outpost until she was swallowed up by the thick undergrowth.

“She doesn’t have a mate if that’s what you’re wondering,” a voice to his left exclaimed. As he turned, he came face to face with the Tsahìk, whose penetrating stare revealed a cunning expression that hinted at a deeper understanding. “I don’t see why this indiscretion of yours should interest me.” “Mm, I don’t know. Seems like she caught your interest.” “Hard to ignore with the trail she carries.” A corner of Kiri’s mouth twitched: Neteyam had just been trapped in the net. “She’s not the first omega with such a scent passing under your nose, but you’ve barely noticed the others.” The young man’s back straightened. “What's your point?” “I’m just surprised. That’s all.”

Neteyam’s gaze was again lost in scanning the spot where the avatar had vanished, lost in a thousand thoughts. Unaware of the bright, wide smile that now graced his sister’s beautiful face. The satisfied smirk of one who sees three moves ahead.

*

Upon entering the research division’s canteen, some may have felt as if they stepped into Goldilocks’ fairy tale. Everything in there was big, big or small, small, except for the stove and tables, which were set at an intermediate height so that both avatars and pilots could use them.

Aubree stared at the teapot brewing the concoction Kiri had given her; her nose stung by the pungent yet fresh smell of nettle wafting from the spout. Carefully, she poured the liquid into a cup without straining — Ingest the leaves — and drank it. Immediately, her throat burned and a tremendous itch seemed to want to tear it open.

Shit, even worse than anticipated.

She took a seat on the plush sofa, its velvety fabric enveloping her frame. As she pressed play on the remote, the screen flickered to life, casting a soft glow on the dimply lit room. Her eyes followed the vivid images of a movie for distraction, but her mind was eaten up by the searing prickle that intensified with each passing moment. The discomfort became all-consuming, shielding her from the outside world, as if the itchy sensations had woven a barrier around her, isolating the woman in her own thoughts. She was oblivious to her colleague’s presence until he sank into the cushions beside her. His arm hung weakly on the backrest, almost brushing against her shoulder. But it was his sudden loud snort that jolted her back to reality. Aubree jumped as she turned to her right and found Jamie. His left knee wedged into his opposite ankle, his foot dangling in her direction. His head rested an inch from the wall, eyes half-closed in a drowsy state.

“You look tired.”

The guy let out a low, rumbling laugh in his typical mumble before replying that he felt like a bulldozer had run over him. Fatigue weighed heavily on him, evident in the strain it put on his distinct British accent. She surreptitiously watched him, taking in the details of his avatar that closely resembled the human it was created from. His gaze remained the same, although his blue irises had now turned a striking shade of yellow. His lips and teeth mirrored the original, except for the canines. When he smiled full-mouthed, two dimples appeared on his cheeks, causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners, as if they were smiling, too. His slightly protruding incisors gave his face a boyish charm, contrasting with his strong, masculine features. He radiated a sense of gentleness.

That last remark had the same effect as lightning illuminating the night. They were conversing freely, as they would have if they were humans.

An alpha and an omega.

Aubree had gotten into the habit of avoiding alphas as much as possible when she was in this body; head down, shy look, walk fast. Never within nose reach. But Jamie did not lose his cool in her presence. He didn’t sniff the air greedily. His gaze didn’t become insistent as it passed over her face. He didn’t moisten his lips endlessly or clench his jaw and fists as if to keep himself from jumping on her. Nor did hold his breath and make excuses, running for his life as he was wont to do.

The suppressor was working!

The success of the next days was enough for the unknown estrus to recede into the background, in the darkest and most hidden place in her head. Who could blame her? Her life was finally back to normal. After all, her avatar's first heat couldn't have been so terrible, could it? Just stick to this simple recipe and everything will be fine, repeated as a mantra.

Remember, it is a temporary remedy. Useless on the verge and during the heat.

Time passed, and days turned into weeks. The taste of the medicine became more tolerable as her throat grew accustomed to its piquant flavor. Even if it wasn’t, the end justified the means. Aubree took the doses with obsessive precision, but after a few months, she noticed the effects wearing off, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it began.  The first warning came in the form of mild dizziness when she logged in, accompanied by a lingering feeling of fever. Then, her appetite waned, alternating with sudden bouts of hunger. Finally, twinges settled in her iliac fossae. She chalked it as harmless PMS, nothing she hadn’t already experienced. Most importantly, not a cause for alarm regarding her host’s performance or health; the hybrid was fully functional.

Wait a minute. Premenstrual syndrome?

As she walked down the hallway leading to the medical area, her mind wandered back to her last period. Her forefinger swiftly navigated the tablet, selecting the calendar app she used to track her menstrual cycle. She was still a long way from the start of the next one, a full two weeks, right in the middle of her fertility window. Maybe I’m ovulating. The symptoms she had been going through lately aligned with that assumption. Breast sensitivity, a slight increase in discharge, heightened lubrication, and libido.

This would have been enough to reassure her, if not for the steady, soft beeping coming from the hospital room, serving as a haunting reminder. Her stare roamed beyond the glass, taking in the circle of Link Units surrounding a pair of desks in the center, a total of eight. It settled on the last station on the far left. Number 3. Her lucky number. Well, not so lucky, given how things were going. The monitor next to it showed the status of the machine, the vitals of the subject inside, the neural activity of the two interconnected brains. The real-time image of the pilot's unconscious face.

Aubree’s face.

And so she realized the symptoms were none other than the avatar's. Ovulation, PMS, cravings were all alarm bells that the heat was near. But who gave her the coup de grâce was Jamie himself.

The guy was running towards her, calling out and weaving, eager for something he was about to share if he didn’t put the brakes on his run. With his palm up to cover his mouth and nose, he said, “Woah Bree... You stink.” His pupils showed a hint of dilation. “It’s time, isn’t it? The suppressant isn’t working anymore.” “Guess so.” “Um, I don’t wanna freak you out or anything, but...” He scratched nervously at the back of his head, no longer holding her gaze. “... if you ever need help dealing with… that. I mean, if I were in your shoes, I’d prefer a friend taking care of me over some random dude. So...” “Thanks, Jamie, for the offer. I know it’s from a genuine interest, and that you’re not trying to take advantage of the situation. I appreciate it, but maybe the Tsahìk can help me out while I’m in the shelter.” “It could last for days.” “I still haven’t come to terms that intercourses are the only way. She's possibly making it sound worse than it actually is.” “Possibly not. Thinking you’ll be locked up somewhere suffering...” "I'll log out for the night," Aubree giggled. “Besides, it would be kinda weird, don’t you think? We work together.” Now he couldn’t help but laugh. “I do science. Stuff like that won't faze me. You better hurry, based on the scent you're giving off, you could be in heat any minute. If you change your mind...” With a last playful wink, Jamie left.

Free to return to her concerns, Aubree’s smile turned into a taut line. She had to find Kiri. Quickly.

*

As she battled the relentless fever, the seemingly endless and overwhelming path to Hometree stretched out before her. Every step was a struggle, her trembling hands clutching onto the rough tree trunks for support. Fatigue weighed heavily upon her, her eyes squinting against the blinding rays of the sun as it dipped below the horizon. The intense heat made her perspire profusely, the dampness seeping through her clothes, clinging to her body like a second skin. She wished she could strip off her garments; the discomfort unbearable. The thought of dying of shame seemed trivial compared to the fire that consumed her from within, leaving her skin burning and blistering. 

Sounds of prolemuris filled the air, their calls echoing through the dense canopy. The heavy, rich, damp bouquet of lush vegetation mingled with the freshness of rain and whiffs of her scent, alerting a hunter nearby to her presence. His senses heightened. With narrowed eyes, he tasted the air, as if savoring a fine wine. The particles rose into his nostrils, painting a vivid image of Aubree in his mind. Her sweet face, adorned with sparkling eyes, and sinuous curves stood out against the dry features of the People. 

As he continued to track her trail, his pupils dilated, his senses enticed by the lingering aroma. Every step he took, he could feel the dampness of the forest floor beneath his feet, the rough texture of the leaves brushing against his fingertips. The air was alive with anticipation, as if holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable. But as quickly as the scent had captivated him, the hunter’s instincts kicked in. He realized that if he could smell her, others could too. The realization sent a shiver down his spine, a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the rainforest. With a determined resolve, he pressed on, his senses alert, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

He left his prey to almost run the distance that separated him from the woman. His omega. The moments it took him to reach her seemed like hours when they were a handful of minutes at most. He found her at the foot of a plant, curled up in a ball, her cheeks stained with tears as she whispered incomprehensible words under her breath. The man staggered, his senses assaulted by the unmistakable pungent smell of her heat stench. A wake so overpowering that left him breathless and struck, unlike anything he had ever smelled before. Teeth gritted and jaw clenched to the breaking point, he bravely advanced towards her, finally falling to his knees. If only he had resisted his natural urges. He could not allow himself to give in. Not him.

With a gentle touch, he cradled her jaw in his palm and soothed her with slow, reassuring strokes along her side, repeating, “It’s alright, it’s alright. You’re safe now. You're not alone; I'm here for you. You’re going to be okay.”  Her cry-streaked face trembled as she whispered, “Please... I can’t take it any longer,” cheeks dampened by an endless stream of tears. “Just take care of it.” He cursed in frustration, powerless that he couldn’t even bring her to his sister. Kiri was assisting a primipara in childbirth. “Please!”  Before taking her in his arms and laying her gently against his chest, the Na’vi sighed, his voice filled with resignation, “Yes, whatever you need.”

Walking backward towards the nearest shelter, he kept his gaze fixed on the path, his piercing eyes fully focused on his surroundings, scanning for any signs of danger. The very direction he had originally come from. Not that anyone could have stood up to him under those circumstances. Regardless of whether he had reached the woman first, no one would have been foolish enough to challenge the clan’s top warrior. 

Groaning, Aubree nuzzled against him, finding solace in the familiar and calming scent that emanated from his skin. Like lowered into a light, peaceful bubble, his soothing alpha pheromones everywhere. An alpha she couldn’t recognize, her vision too blurry, but to whom the omega inside her was singing a serenade. In this foggy confusion, she could only hear the beating of his heart against her ear and the oh-so-big, firm hands holding her up. And though she could not see him, starry eyes appeared in her mind’s eye, looking tenderly at her. 

Her fantasy drifted away, picturing him holding her close, his lips exploring every inch of her body, and their lovemaking leaving her in a state of euphoric surrender. A shiver ran down her spine and made her throbbing quicken at the mere thought of being touched where the tremendous burn concentrated the most. The brush of his lips on her forehead and the tip of her nose made her believe, if only for an instant, that reality had merged with her imagination. His voice lingered in the air, like a gentle gust against her mouth, hinting that they were just moments away from their destination.

Where, she would have inquired, but there wasn’t much room for consistency in her head right now, her perceptions too chaotic to form a coherent question. She would have gone to the ends of the Universe, as long as it meant she could be near him.

Next to her, on her, inside her. Her heart raced with anticipation.

As the hunter laid her down on the mattress and went to fetch water, it was no surprise that her expression crinkled, her eyelids opened slightly, and a low moan eluded her parched lips.

“You need to drink,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern, as he offered out a small bowl. The liquid inside shimmered, reflecting the soft glow of the room. However, she shook her head, causing the contents to spill onto the floor, the sound of the liquid splashing echoing through the silence. A flicker of frustration crossed his face, but it quickly melted away, replaced by a deep-seated worry as he watched her. Her arms opened towards him, inviting him into her embrace. He had never encountered such desperation and helplessness in an omega before. 

Calmly, he laid down beside her, pulling her gently towards him. As he hugged her, she could feel the tension slowly leaving her body. But it wasn’t enough. Aubree craved more, she needed more. And so he leaned in and kissed her. His lips were soft and tender, like a delicate caress. When she bit into them, the taste exploded on her tongue, a blend of sweet honey and warm sunshine. The flavors danced and mingled, delighting her senses. Closing her eyes, she felt a rush of sparks and stars illuminating her mind. His tongue explored her mouth with a gentle touch, mirroring the soothing sensation of his hands as they massaged her tense shoulders.

She felt perfect, cocooned in the strength of his embrace. The soft glow of candlelight danced across their entwined bodies, casting a warm, intimate atmosphere. The warmth of his arms, his faint scent mingled with her own, enveloped her, creating a sweet, comforting haven from the outside world. Yet, an intoxicating sensation filled the air as she nestled against his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. A soothing melody that resonated deep within her. Every touch, every caress, sent waves of bliss coursing through her body. In this moment, she found solace and contentment, knowing that she had found her rightful place - in his loving arms.

She was exactly where she belonged, complete and fulfilled.

When he let go, she was panting, her lungs desperate for oxygen, her heart pounding in her chest. All she could see were his eyes, lost in darkness. Delighting in her exquisite taste, surpassing his wildest dreams, he pressed his lips against her face and kissed her deeply. The overwhelming passion seemed to consume her, suffocating her with its intensity. He gently moved away, giving her a chance to catch her breath, and as he did, he positioned himself on top of her, taking off the thin t-shirt she had on.

As much as he longed to press his skin against the avatar's, the Na’vi couldn’t help but be drawn to her curvaceous physique, a stark contrast to the ruggedness of his own kind. He took his sweet time to admire her; the naked breasts, the rounder hips, he could not resist stroking them with his fingertips. Aubree’s scent brainwashed him, a slave to the instinct to take her where she was, but in the back of his mind, there was still enough clarity to realize that he was truly amazed by the wonder of the woman before him. He liked her. He really liked her. He had liked her from the first moment he had noticed her, her trail so enchanting that it could not be ignored.

Once again, he yearned to taste her, to hold her. He placed his lips upon every reachable inch, leaving his mark with his intoxicating scent. He lavished attention on her face, caressed her eyes, nibbled on her ears, traced her collarbones, and claimed her neck, burying his nose in her skin, his tongue tenderly exploring the hidden depths behind her shoulder. It was a remarkably sensitive spot, causing her to surrender to pleasure, her corneas tilting backward in ecstasy. The surge of pheromones transformed into a primal growl, resonating deep within her core; uncontrollable shivers coursed through her body. He pressed harder against her hips, releasing a second wave that intensified their connection.

Aubree wrapped her limbs around him, squeezing him in a fervent embrace. The sound of their mingling breaths filled the air as their lips met once more, a symphony of desire. Overwhelmed by the sensation of his body against hers, she reveled in the way he effortlessly fit into the curves of her form. Each kiss and caress he bestowed upon her skin brought a cascade of relief that engulfed her senses.

Through the graceful dance of their bodies, she felt the weight of his longing against her. Every movement spoke volumes of his desire to please her, to alleviate her anguish. As his lips explored her skin, a low, guttural moan escaped her throat, resonating with a mixture of gratification and pain. In the air, a spice of raw passion intertwined with a hint of vulnerability. In his touch, she could sense the depth of his caring, his soulful dominance.

She realized how similar they were: two people subjected to their nature.

Equally desperate, her lungs aching, she reached a trembling hand towards his tail, fingers brushing against the coarse texture of the loincloth. The tightly cinched knot resisted her efforts, causing each tug to reverberate with a faint sound of strained fabric. The hunter, his muscles trembling with anticipation, propped himself up slightly, his breaths mingling with hers in the dimly lit room.

Time slowed to a torturous crawl as he painstakingly unraveled the knot, his fingers working with meticulous precision. The sensation of the fiber slipping through his grasp sent shivers down his spine, a mix of alleviation and frustration intertwining in his chest. The weight of the tewng around his ankles became a physical reminder of the barriers they both longed to shed. Almost on the verge of tears, he yearned for liberation from this confining cloth, craving the proximity and warmth they shared. With a swift motion, he freed himself from the bindings, the garment rustling quietly as it fell to the ground. In an instant, he pulled her back into his embrace, his arms blanketing her with a renewed fervor.

As their bodies tangled, a rush of emotions flooded their senses — the scent of their shared desire hung heavy in the air, mingling with the musky aroma of sweat. The touch of their skin, now unencumbered, ignited a fire that burned with an intensity they could no longer deny.

The scientist loved every moment; his piercing, smoldering gaze fixated on her, lolling in every tender touch, every flattering word, but she reached her limit, and he could sense it. Suddenly, the biting cold dusk shrouded her exposed form. Her garments were violently ripped away, leaving her vulnerable. The icy sensation lasted only a fraction of a second, though, for that was all the time it took for the stranger to plunge into her doused core. His intricate braids tickled against the satin-like skin of her inner thigh. The balmy breeze of his breath danced upon her as she rolled up her sticky legs around his head. “No need for that,” she giggled, her voice trembling. The sharp edges of his canines teased her, causing a playful tingle to spread across her lips. His smile showing both desire and mischief.

With exasperating slowness, he inhaled in a long sniff, his expounded pupils pulsating as they reopened. He dove in to guzzle the juicy nectar at its source, emitting a hoarse moan with the initial sip. She gasped, feeling the vibration against her quivering lips, as a blissful wave rippled through her soul, intensifying her arousal. Gripping her silky hair, he nestled his face, exploring every crevice, nuzzling her thoroughly. His insatiable tongue and eager lips caressed the velvety walls of her intimate entrance, skillfully teasing the supple skin and delicate clitoris. His left hand, loving and firm, cupped her slender ankle, his touch sending shivers up her bone. Slowly, he trailed his hand up her smooth thigh, his fingertips tracing every contour, igniting a fiery anticipation within her. With a whispered whoop, he sank his index into her swollen, drenched core, the wetness coating his digit. There was no resistance, only an overwhelming urge for more. In sync with her ragged sighs, he added a second finger. The sound of their combined panting saturated the air as her grip tightened around his relentless, plunging fingers.

At this point, Aubree was trembling with need as every fiber within her begged to be fucked. The alpha’s dominant pheromones beguiled her, while his languid, deliberate movements captivated her gaze. His hungry eyes, dark and all-consuming held her spellbound by the way he devoured her. The crushed combination of his present and skill left her subdued, infatuated even. As her back arched in pleasure, a primordial scream tore through her open windpipe. Excitement was so intense, a fiery mixture of ecstasy and release so gratifying and flawless,  that her omega felt a devastating love than just heat. In that instant, he hit her G-spot with caustic precision one final time, causing her to pour forth in a torrential climax. A violent, passionate eruption met by the man’s eager mouth, which drank her essence like a thirsty beast.

However, something unexpected happened as the orgasm subsided. Aubree burst into tears.

Copious tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks; wet, hot streaks that burned almost as scorching as the new, unbearable fire festering in her belly. Sobs rang through the shelter as he called her back, holding her tightly in his protective embrace, now curled against his chest seeking consolation. “Shushu... ‘Upe kemwiä? (What is it?).” He murmured, his lips resting on her temples as he futilely wiped away her tear-strained cheekbones. “It doesn’t go away, it doesn’t go away.” She cried, her nails scratching his chest, desperately trying to hold on to something. Her nose rubbed against his rib cage, then his jaw to impregnate him with her perfume, his heart pounding wildly.

In a frenzy of kisses and bites and touches, he let her vent, his digits grazing along her spine, confused by the speed with which the urge had reassembled in her. The Na’vi was confused by the speed with which the itch had reassembled within her. Normally it would take a few hours after such a powerful first orgasm. Time to rest, eat, drink. Aubree badly needed hydration to combat the incessant fever that plagued her and the fluids she was losing.

“Take a moment to rest. You need to drink.” “Screw the water, I want you,” she confessed, her misty eyes fixated on him. They shimmered with unstoppable tears and thirst. Her face flushed with a violent purple. It was the most powerful heat the man had ever witnessed, and he wondered what had triggered it. That it was her first heat? Had the suppressors made her high? It was because of him? The alpha in him reprimanded him with the natural mildness of primal appetites. Just take her, she’s pleading for it. But he shook his head. It wasn’t him. He was better than that. He had been raised to care for others, not to use them. Alphas protect, that was what gave them purpose; he would do anything to protect his mate, even from herself.

Even though she wasn’t technically his mate.

Despite not being bonded in the traditional sense, their connection was undeniable. Aubree, unbeknownst to her, held a special place in his heart from the very moment they met. It was clear from the start that this outcome was unavoidable. Calling upon anything that could keep him sane, he held some sort of energy drink under her nose. “Näk (drink).” The omega sounded at this command. It was as if by speaking in his native language, he was able to assert himself a thousand times more forcefully, even if she didn't get his words. The omega knew for both of them. “Can you do this for me? Drink this and I'll give you everything you want.” She had never heard anything more beautiful. She swelled the entire contents in one gulp, her head dizzy from the sudden amount of sugar. She fell back between the pillows with a quickening pulse, even if he was stroking her hair comfortably. The fall brought a fresh whiff of her needy wake, filling the entire hut as well as his nostrils. Instinctively, the hunter took a deep breath. A breath, that stopped halfway as his brain registered the source of the trail between the woman’s legs. A shimmering fountain that caused him to let out a guttural roar of defeat. He was so weak to her.

As he settled between her groin, the tip of his erection brushed against the warrior’s waistband, still clinging to his torso. The only garment Aubree had allowed him to keep.  The sight of him, breathtakingly elegant and athletic, thanks to Eywa’s mercy, overshadowed the idea of how many other omegas had the privilege of having him inside them before her. But now he was all hers. That thought alone ignited a fresh wave of excitement to blossom. He pressed his full weight onto her, and she wasted no time running her hands over his taut, strong, muscular back. Every contour, every sinew, was exquisitely formed and enticing under her touch. The closeness they shared, their bodies pressed against each other, sent a thrill through her. He smelled so damn good, hard and bothered for her. The way he responded to her advances only heightened her desire, flaring up a foreign heat in her veins, surpassing even her own natural instincts.

His shaft, long and thick, glided inside her, stealing her a gasp as he filled her in one fluid motion. Pleasure trembled through her, evident in her labored breathing and tightened walls. The barriers of her depths easily acclimated to his divine cock, satisfying even her smallest wishes. It was almost embarrassing to realize how every aspect of him was designed to please her — the texture of his body, the touch of his skin, the taste of his lips, the sound of his voice, his tantalizing scent.

She couldn’t help it and was somehow ashamed of her weakness. Her intimacy clenched at some point, in response to the blows he gave her, the few but deep sounds he made. So securely he gasped at the faint pain before rushing to her mouth in a ferocious kiss. Demanding, needy. He bit and pulled at her lip, pushing his tongue to lick the arch of hers, to suck her teeth, making her vibrate around him.  Had she mentioned that his lips were amazing? Yes, she had, but who cared? She would have repeated over and over again how unworldly they melded with hers in such a sublime way that they would have stunned her if she weren’t for the crazy pheromones already. Aubree didn’t even know who this man was. Her senses tangled, preventing her from recognizing his face or voice, despite a nagging suspicion of familiarity. Her mind sporadically focused before touch or smell overpowered it. Now taste. His lips felt like fresh fruit, sweet and full-bodied. She would have spent hours luxuriating in them, but the impression she was about to burst grew and grew, driving and unbearable.

She moaned uncontrollably as the Na’vi drew back his hips until only the tip rested against her core to thrust again before effortlessly thrusting again. Each new point of contact stung inside her. The avatar felt an insatiable desire to take all of him, to never let go. Her heart filled with euphoria — little bites, caresses, kisses ran through her body, which now smelled like his. She tugged at his hair as he made his way back to her mouth, her wet thighs encircling his waist, her heels nestled in the dimples of Venus. Clinging to him as if the contact of his epidermis, his chest, his arms weren’t enough. She craved more. Their hearts pounded in unison, like furious galloping horses, their passion untamed. “Tsahey, sı`ltsan’efu (oh hell, feels good),” he grunted, his timbre low and gravelly. Kind of a dirty move whispering praise in Na’vi into her ear. His words danced to the tips of her toes from the dull joy it gave her to feel appreciated, as the sound of their frames colliding echoed in the hut, a symphony of lust and devotion. Her cries grew shrill, a melodic chorus that fueled his every thrust. He was so hot, his skin flushed and glistening with sweat, as he moved faster, the friction intensified, sending sparks shooting through all of her body. Aubree clasped her legs around his waist, hankering for everything he offered. His grip on her shoulders steadied, his fingers digging into her skin. The force of his thrusts increased, each one hitting her with a mix of pleasure and pain. Her nails dragged along his back, leaving red trails in their wake.

The man rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingled; his lukewarm exhales covering her face and his ears full with her gasps. The smell of their passion hung heavy in the small space, a heady mixture of steam and need. He watched her in both ecstasy and disbelief. The sight of such intensity in his gaze overpowered her, but she clung to it, relishing every moment when his dick struck a sensitive bundle of nerves.

As she felt his knot dwell, alpha pheromones crept into her subconscious, drowning her omega in the musky aroma of dominance and submission, an exhilarating fog that pushed her further into surrender. The place seemed to darken as her soul naturally responded to him; her pulse hastening with trepidation. Each frantic gasps for oxygen a struggle against the sweeping emotions. She had no choice but to capitulate, to cry out for him. It felt as if her very DNA had been written to covet him, to lock him inside, but the native held her back, prolonging the exquisite torture.

“That’s not a good idea. It’s your first time.”

A new growl escaped her windpipe, vibrating hungry rage. A rumble that allowed no response, a warning that made him bend his ears back and sink to the point of no return. His stare fixed on her with a longing that knew no bounds. Now only orgasm could free him from her clutches. His expression seemed pained, a flicker of hesitation, but it lasted only a second before the most animalistic and savage sounds she had ever heard rose from the back of his throat. The researcher bit his neck to stifle a moan louder than the others, desperate to repress the burden that threatened to consume him. The last thing she wanted was for him to stop for concern of hurting her. He gasped, his grip on her hips toughening as he plunged more fervently, the rhythmic slapping of their bodies reverberating through the room.

“Don’t ever come out. Stay in forever,” she stammered in confused, fading whimpers. His reaction was harsh, his hips digging with such force that the knot scraped hard against her walls, inducing her to writhe in ecstasy. “Nga tsun ke pawm fula tsonta oe… Nga zir fìtxan tsìltsan (You can’t just ask me that… You feel so amazing).” His voice strained with lust. In response, the woman gyrated her hips even deeper against him, moaning with abandon until he filled her completely. His burning seed spread inside her, as he released a final wave of pheromones that triggered an orgasm so powerful it knocked her unconscious — her frame succumbing to the overwhelming fulfillment that exhausted her. “Are you okay?” He kissed her temple, but she could barely nod, still breathless. “Good.”

Amid that swirling sea of dizzying, carnal lechery, the Na’vi caught a whiff of her enticing trail, drawing him in like a magnetic force. He twisted her neck gently, planting kisses and licks behind her ear, where it released all sorts of fragrances that blended with the aftermath of their passionate encounter. Aubree shivered, her skin tingling as he grazed his teeth over her sensitive flesh. The aroma of her essence intensified here, so potent it could dance on his tongue, so tantalizing to explore further.

As he indulged in a small taste, her partner’s presence surged within her; his dick twitched, and automatically her inner walls throb around him. Just as her apprehension grew, fearing his bite, his lips found her ear where he murmured: “Don’t be afraid. I won’t mark you until you ask me to.”

Suddenly, a clarity washed over her, as if the dense intoxication of hormones had dissolved, leaving her lucid in its wake. The researcher pushed her lover away, panic coursing. Her narrowed eyes hinted at a revelation, now that she could finally name the alpha who had guided her in her very first heat, still mating with her with a satisfied and dangerous grin.

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya.

Her eyelids suddenly grew heavy. Aubree fought not to close them, but with each blink it became harder and harder to keep them open. She felt his fingertips brush the hair from her face, then caress one cheek as he lowered himself to place a light kiss on her forehead.“Hahaw, ma’uniltı`ranyu. Nga kin ne tsurokx. Tätxaw ngeyä tawtutetokx. Oe veaywng nga kay sìn. (Sleep, my dreamwalker. You need to rest. Return to your human body. I’ll take care of you from now on).”

Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

@neteyamssyulang @layla2-49

[reidsexual]

Reach

“Earth to Dick?” You wave your hand in front of his faraway expression, helping him get off his knees.

The movement helps snap Dick back to reality, his eyebrows raising and his mouth agape almost as if he’s realized something. He looks up into your direction and laughs awkwardly, accepting your hand whilst pushing himself off the floor.

“Is everything alright?” You ask, puzzled by his change in mood. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He assures you, flashing a smile that could fool most. “Besides, we got the job done.” He looks around, taking in the ruins of the building.

You had been assigned with Dick, Wonder Girl, and Beast Boy on a mission to stop a supervillain with psychic abilities. Made you wonder why they didn’t bring Miss Martian along.

“Sure…” You say, letting him off the hook for a moment. Just until you and your teammates get back to the base, that is.

“That was totally awesome! Did you see when she was trying to manipulate me into lasso-ing myself and I was like ‘No way, Jose!’ and threw her against the wall!” Cassie enthusiastically plays out the entire fight, with extra hand movements to boot.

“Totally badass.” Gar agrees, smiling ear to ear. “And I bet Dick thought so too.” He turns his head towards Dick’s direction, without a doubt seeking approval from the leader.

But Dick stays silent. His mind seems distant - closed off. He’s been like this since Wally’s death, and it wasn’t a secret to you that these missions he went on were merely distractions to cope with his own grief. Once those missions were over, he was alone again in his own mind.

Gar’s shoulders slump, and his smile slowly fades away. You put a hand on his shoulder, smiling sympathetically. “You all did well. I’m proud of you both.”

Hopefully that gets their spirits up.

Truth be told, you’d had quite a crush on Dick since the team’s been formed. When it was just you 6: Dick, Wally, Kaldur, Artemis, M’gann, and Conner. But it never lead to anything - and you were a fool to think so.

Besides, everyone’s moved on from their lives - why shouldn’t you?

You make it to the headquarters, but before Dick can make his first footsteps on the floor, you place a hand on his shoulder.

Dick turns around to meet your eye, an amused glint in his smile. “Didn’t know we were getting handsy now.”

“Funny.” You give him a quick and sarcastic smile, taking your hand off of him and crossing your arms against your chest. “But I’m not in the mood for jokes, Dick.”

“What are you in the mood for? Chinese takeout?” Dick suggests.

“No. A spar would actually be quite nice.” You can feel a flicker of a smile touch upon your features at the thought. “Like old times?” You add, trying not to sound like you crave the nostalgia.

For the first time this mission, you notice Dick’s teasing expression falter, his face falling. His eyes can’t seem to look anywhere but the ground. “Sure. Like old times.” He says, turning around and stepping foot in headquarters.

By the time you’ve showered and cleaned yourself up, Dick’s already at the training room - waiting for you.

The sight makes you panic by just a little bit. How long have you kept him waiting?

Dick stifles a laugh, almost as if reading your thoughts. “Relax, I just got here.” He says in a good-natured manner.

Rolling your eyes playfully, “Just wondering what’s got you so enthusiastic.” You banter back, stepping into the ring.

“What can I say? Nothing cheers me up like some good ‘ol’ training session.” He shrugs, tossing you a wooden stick that you catch without missing a beat.

“Mind if we share a chat while we’re at it?” You test the waters, positioning yourself into a fighting stance across from him.

“If you can focus.” Dick answers confidently, before you charge at him, striking your stick to the side of his neck before he effectively blocks it, repositions your weapon, nearly making you lose balance.

You do a cartwheel to land on your feet. Both arms stretched out as you crouch on the floor, sticks on each side.

“What was it you wanted to talk about again?” Dick asks in the middle of you launching a kick at him, which he catches with his free hand. While he’s distracted, you deliver a blow to his side with your elbow.

“How are you?” Seems to be the most appropriate way to start the conversation to you right now.

“Fighting an extremely athletic lady. You, on the other hand?” He jokes, and you can almost see a glimpse of the boyish Dick you used to know.

“Repeat that - but replace ‘lady’ with ‘gentleman.’”

“Flattered.”

Dick lands a devastating blow to your jaw, and you have to take a step back and wipe the blood off your lip.

His face morphs from playful and teasing to concerned and worried in less than a millisecond, instantly dropping his sticks and rushing forward to you.

“Are you okay? God, I didn’t think-” You sweep your leg under his, Dick falling back-first with a thump.

“Careful. Might change my mind about you being a gentleman. Might change it to little rascal instead.” You say, reaching your hand out to help Dick as he sits up and rubs his hand behind his neck.

“Never-”

“Lose focus when attacking your opponent. Taught you that our first training session alone.” Dick finishes your sentence for you. His delivery, so lighthearted and playful - can’t even mask the bittersweet undertone in his words.

“Do you ever miss those days?” You ask without thinking.

“My days as Robin?”

“I mean those days of fresh experience. Back when being a superhero felt like playing a video game instead of a world of hurt on your shoulders.” You explain hesitantly, taking a seat on the ground next to him.

Dick’s eyebrows furrow and you can feel him stare at you intently as you are the one now struggling to look into his eyes. “Hey, hey.” He cups your face in both his hands, softly guiding your face to meet his gaze.

“Where’s this coming from?” He asks quietly. You’re only now realizing how intimate this all looks - your faces just inches apart, you could count all of his eyelashes if you wanted to.

Dick Grayson. Why always be there for others when you can’t even be there for yourself?

You grab both his wrists and set his hands on his lap, immediately regretting the action at the loss of his warmth. “This isn’t about me.” You can hear the annoyance seeping in your voice, you hate it. But how can he be so oblivious?

“This is about you.” You point a finger at his chest, before dropping it and sighing. “I mean, what’s going on with you?”

“What’s going on with me?“ He repeats, sounding equal amounts offended and confused.

“Yes! You’ve been acting so differently as of late and-”

“And it’s nothing you have to worry about.” Dick interrupts, his gaze cold as opposed to his warmth of his touch.

“Will you stop interrupting me?” You huff, annoyed. Standing up from the ground, you dust off imaginary dirt on your clothes.

Combing a hand through your hair, you try to calm yourself down. Remind yourself that you shouldn’t lose patience with someone grieving. But it’s so hard when you are too.

“And will you stop worrying?” Dick stands up to the ground, his height towering over you.

“You’ve noticed?” You scoff, sounding childish even in your own ears.

“Oh, I’ve noticed! I notice everything about you, come on!” He’s almost shouting now - you’re not used to Dick losing his temper, especially not with you.

“Why are you so pissed about a friend caring for you?” Your voice cracks at the word ‘friend’ because you’re not even sure if he considers you one with the way he’s talking to you right now.

Sweat drips down the side of his forearm, and you’re not sure if it’s from the heat of your argument or the intense sparring session earlier. But either way, you can feel yourself start to get heat up over the whole ordeal too.

“I’m not mad that you care.” He says pleadingly, his voice calmer now, but the anger still appears. “I’m upset that you treat me like glass. That I’m fragile. That I have to prove myself all over again to show you that I can handle things on my own.”

The way he looks at you, you can tell he’s at battle with his own thoughts. Between desperately trying to convince you he’s fine, and wanting to give into your help and tell you he’s not.

“Nobody’s invulnerable, Dick.” You take a step closer, your frustration simmering down. “And you’re one of the most capable people I know. But that doesn’t mean I don’t notice when you need support by your side.” You take his hand in yours, reassuring him, as a friend. As a friend.

Dick looks at you at loss for words. It’s like he’s asking you what’s the right thing to say, the right thing to feel.

“It’s been tough, I can admit that.” He says somberly, taking his hand out of yours in a way that makes you pretend it didn’t hurt. “But that’s what comes with saving the world. That’s the price there is to pay for.”

You’ve always known that Dick’s life revolved around bettering others. It’s been his life since he was a kid - from performing for others entertainment, to fighting crime for others safety. It’s all he’s known.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t reach out.” You whisper, trying one more time. For someone who doesn’t want to be Batman, he sure is good at avoiding others from seeing his true emotions.

Dick turns his back on you and grabs the sticks on the ground. “I came here because I thought I could shut my mind off. Focus on things that made me forget about work.”

“I guess we’re both disappointed then.” You say in a soft voice, careful not to let it crack.

And with that, Dick’s shadow disappears in the corridors. Leaving you alone in the training room with nothing but wooden sticks for you to reach for.

(hey guys!!! this is my first time writing anything, like, EVER. so if I made any mistakes, please lmk and I do apologize if the portrayal of dick isn’t accurate or if some of the dialogue feels cringy and unnatural)

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── WILLOW TREE

Synopsis: Years after you leave Japan, Rin Itoshi finally wins the World Cup. As he promised he would, he comes to find you afterwards. (part one here!)

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Rin x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 4.1k

Content Warnings: rin is lowkey nice and therefore ooc because he’s implied to have matured (considering he’s like in his twenties atp), one reference to another fic of mine, almost as cheesy as part one, reader and her bff have to interact w a misogynist, nagi and barou mentions because they are my goats

A/N: @why2277 requested a part two for cherry tree so yk i had to deliver!! hehe this isn’t super romantic or anything because it’s rin and he’s allergic to emotions lowkey but i hope it’s fun anyways 🥹

Additional: check my pinned post to make sure i have requests open; after reading the rules, please feel free to make your own!

From the window of the apartment you were renting for your final year of university, you could see a weeping willow tree. It was lovely and old, its leaves swaying in the slightest wind, and in the sunlight, it was too benevolent to be anything but ethereal. During the warmer months, you used to spread out a blanket in the grass beneath its shade and work on your homework, but now that there was a chill creeping into the air, you could only gaze longingly at it whenever you passed and imagine what it would be like in spring, when the temperature outside was once again tolerable.

Sometimes, on particularly stormy nights, the shapes of the leaves would coalesce into something resembling a man or monster. In those times, you would wish there was a room you could run to, albeit not out of any fear — you weren’t as easy to frighten as you had once been. It was nostalgia, horrible and sickening, which made your stomach turn and your heart palpitate, longing for a particular bed, a familiar embrace, though both were on the other side of the world and had been far out of your reach for years upon years now.

“Jeez,” your best friend said as the two of you elbowed your way into getting seats at the bar. Her university’s break had started earlier than yours, so instead of going directly to your hometown, she had come to visit you first, and of course in celebration of your reunion, you both had decided to visit the most popular bar in the area. “What’s going on? Hey, dude, what’s everyone watching?”

The man she was talking about spun around in surprise, his eyes enormous at her question, like he found it impossible that she was asking such a thing. She scowled at him, waiting for him to answer; when he realized she was being serious, he scoffed.

“It’s the World Cup final,” he said, before adding, under his breath, “Fucking girls.”

“The World Cup?” you said, your interest piqued despite his less than savory addition. “Who’s playing?”

Your best friend gave you a surprised look. “Since when have you cared about soccer?”

The man gave you a measured look, his face still pinched with distaste, and then he shrugged. “Japan and Germany. Craziest shit I’ve seen in a while. Never thought the Japanese team would get so far, but they’re goddamn monsters. Germany’s in the lead for the moment, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Japan turns it around and makes a comeback victory.“

“I see,” you said, craning your neck so you could see the small TV in the corner. Your best friend nudged you in the side, and when you glanced at her out of the corner of your eye, her brow was furrowed in confusion.

“What’s the big deal?” she said. “I didn’t realize you were into sports.”

“I’m not,” you said. “I was just reminded of something when he mentioned the World Cup, that’s all.”

You wondered if he was playing, and if so, whether he, too, remembered that half-awake promise he had made you. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. If you were any smarter, any less stubborn, you would’ve forgotten as well.

“Holy fucking shit!” the man shouted as the screen flashed in celebration of a goal.

“What?” your best friend said, enthralled, though her expression soured every time she glanced at the rude man, who the two of you were sadly dependent on for explanations.

“That was such a clean shot,” he said, eyes sparkling. “Rin Itoshi…he’s an amazing player. True, sometimes people forget that, because half of his teammates are the biggest peacocks known to mankind and hog all of the attention with their showboating, but I’d take him over Seishiro Nagi or Shoei Barou any day. Maybe he doesn’t have that flair or power, but he’s technically perfect, and that’s something none of the others can claim — not even that genius playmaker, Isagi!”

You didn’t know enough about soccer or the Japanese team to have an opinion on the rest of his claims, but you did know about Rin Itoshi, so you smiled softly and nodded. “Yeah, Rin’s pretty cool.”

Your best friend, who had finally caught up to what you were talking about, snickered. “That’s not what you used to say. I recall you hating him quite a bit.”

The man fully spun around in his barstool, glaring at you with his arms folded over his chest, his left hand gripping a beer. “On what grounds could one possibly hate Rin Itoshi? Name any player, and I’ll explain why he’s clear of them. Seriously, aren’t females supposed to like Rin? For his looks and all?”

You and your best friend exchanged glances before slowly inching away. There was no point in entertaining the man further; he was just inclined to see the worst in you two no matter what, and you would probably be better off trying to find another bar or just heading to your house for the night.

“Ah, I don’t really know any other players,” you admitted, grabbing your purse and slinging it on your shoulder. “I just happened to live with the Itoshis for a while during my first year of college.”

“What?” the man shrieked, though thankfully the music and chattering was so loud that only a couple of heads turned. “You lived in a house with Rin Itoshi?”

“Uh…” you trailed off, looking around and spotting the door at the same time as your best friend. Without even a signal, both of you took off for the exit at once, leaving the now-sputtering man behind and not slowing down until you were well down the street.

“I hate guys like that,” your best friend gasped out, leaning against the wall of a bagel shop, which was closed due to the late hour. “What a jerk.”

“Honestly,” you agreed. “At least he was kind of helpful, even if he did repeatedly insult our gender and treat us like children.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Rin Itoshi, huh? That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Feeling nostalgic?”

“A bit,” you said. “I told you he had a crush on me, didn’t I? Or at least, I think he did. I’m not sure if he realized it himself.”

“Yup, I remember. It explained a lot more of his actions than it really should’ve,” she said. 

“Well, the truth is that the night I asked him about his feelings, he told me he didn’t have a crush on me or anything, but that after he retired from soccer for good, things might be different,” you said. This was something you hadn’t told anyone, not even her. For some reason, there had been a seriousness to the way he spoke, and at the time it had felt like a betrayal to share it with another person. Then, when you had moved back home at the end of the semester and the two of you had stopped speaking entirely, it had faded from the forefront of your mind, locked away alongside the rest of your memories from those strange few months.

“No way,” she said with a chuckle. “Did he think you’d wait for that long? Soccer players don’t retire until they’re in their thirties, right? That’s a long time to expect someone to keep you in their mind.”

“I told him as much, but as you know, I was apparently a huge distraction to his soccer career, so he couldn’t have me ruining that or whatever. Anyways, uh, he promised that once he won the World Cup, he’d come and find me,” you said. “So. I was just reminiscing a bit over that, I guess.”

“Do you think he will?” she said. You shook your head. 

“Of course not,” you said. “He’s famous now. I mean, random men in bars praise him, so he must be a celebrity, right? There’s a lot of girls he could have, and anyways, I myself wouldn’t have even thought of it if that guy hadn’t brought him and the World Cup up. Why would it be any different for Rin?”

“That’s fair,” your best friend said. “Fame changes people.”

“Right,” you said. “It’s just a cool story that I can tell at parties now. Like, did you know that famous footballer Rin Itoshi once told me I was the most annoying person he had ever met? I bet it’ll be a real winner.”

“Fascinating tale,” she said. 

“Thanks,” you said. “Like I said, it’ll be popular with the crowds for sure. Ah, provided that they believe me, of course.”

“That’s true,” she said, snorting in amusement. “It does kinda sound like you’re making it up. You were too busy arguing with him constantly, too, so you never even took any photos with him.”

“I know,” you said. “Oh, well. They can believe me or not. It did happen, so who cares what anyone else thinks?”

“Very mature,” your best friend said with a nod. “Moving on, what should we do next? That bar’s kinda out of the question.”

“Technically, I do still have class tomorrow,” you reminded her. “So maybe sleeping is a good idea?”

“Ugh, I forgot about that,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Sorry. Yeah, let’s get back. We can do more stuff once we’re home and off for the week.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said. “It looks like it’s going to rain soon, anyways, so that’s probably for the best.”

You were right — almost as soon as you entered your apartment, the earlier breezes turned to gales, and one of those storms which was not quite wintry but gray and gloomy regardless churned into existence. You and your best friend were quick to get ready, both surprisingly exhausted, and then she made herself comfortable on your couch while you settled in your bed, pulling the blankets up over your shoulders and staring out of your window, watching the bare branches of the willow thrash about desperately, like they were searching for something that they could never have.

The break was short but relaxing, and before you knew it, you were back at your apartment in school, although you didn’t have your best friend’s company this time. You settled back into your typical routine, and within a few days, your life was once again mundane and usual. Any thoughts of the past or of excitement vanished in the haze of working and studying, and indeed it sometimes felt like you were more of a zombie trudging through life until the winter next became alive instead of dull.

Two weeks after you returned to university, you were walking home in the evening after a study group meeting in the library, humming to yourself and texting one of your friends about a homework assignment, when you became acutely aware of footsteps mirroring your own. You tested it out, first slowing and then speeding up your pace, but no matter what you did, they matched you so eerily that you became genuinely worried.

Swallowing, you sped up again, hoping you could, in some way, outrun this pursuer which you had picked up. When the pat-pat of sneakers on concrete behind you sped up as well, you gasped and then broke into a run. This wasn’t just the beginning of every horror movie but also of many true-crime documentaries. A girl. A dark evening. A mysterious stalker. Were you going to be murdered or something?

“You’re painfully slow,” your would-be assailant said, keeping up with your full sprint and not even sounding winded. “Anyways, why are we running? Did you take up jogging once you left Japan or something?”

You skidded to a stop, turning to see a familiar figure a few steps behind you. When he noticed you had stopped, he did as well, and though he tried to fight it, a tiny smile threatened to bloom on his face when he noticed your awed expression.

He was wearing a pair of loose joggers and an oversized sweatshirt, which wasn’t his typical sense of style but suited him, as everything did; additionally, despite the late hour, there was a pair of sunglasses pushed up into his hair, which shone in the light of the street lamp you both stood under. His hands were shoved in his pockets, though he raised his right to wave at you shyly, the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks pink — whether from the biting cold or something else, you could not tell.

“Rin?” you said. He nodded. “Rin, what are you—?”

You broke off in disbelief, unable to even move. In your wildest dreams, when you pictured reuniting with him, you had imagined something more romantic. Perhaps one of you would pick the other up from the airport, and you’d dash towards him and leap into his arms and he’d spin you about and — well, now that you thought about it more, that was a little unrealistic. Rin had never been that kind of person. The distance between you two had made your heart grow fonder, and time had formed a rosy film over your memories, but Rin as you had truly known him had always been standoffish and awkward.

“We won the World Cup,” he said. “No. I won it.”

“Yes,” you said. “Yes, I — I saw you score.”

His stare was arresting, his eyes the same brilliant shade as a writhing sea, framed by dark lashes which fluttered as nervously as a wasp’s wings. For a second, you thought he must be waiting for you to say something else, but you dismissed the thought in turn. What else would you even say?

After a second, he exhaled, his breath forming crystals in the air. “Yeah. Well, uh, I’m sure you’ve forgotten by now, but I told you, didn’t I? That once I won the World Cup, I’d find you?”

“I didn’t forget,” you said, swallowing. “I thought you might’ve, though.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said. “I’m mad at you, so of course I needed to see you again.”

“Mad at me?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “I was so sure it would be better once you left, but it got worse. I thought of you even more. It was awful.”

“Didn’t seem to impact your soccer career any,” you pointed out.

“Maybe it did. Maybe I’d be even better if it weren’t for you,” he said. You waited for him to laugh. He didn’t, but there was mirth shimmering in his irises, which was close enough, so you allowed yourself to shake your head in amusement.

“I guess we’ll never know,” you said.

“Guess not,” he said.

“How did you even do it?” you said. “Find me, I mean.”

“I knew which university you went to,” he said.

“That’s it?” you said. “It’s not like this is a small school.”

“Believe me, I know,” he said. “I’ve been here since last Thursday.”

“Seriously?” you said.

“Seriously,” he affirmed. “I’ve been spending every day on campus looking for you. It took me a while, but I didn’t want to give up until I saw you again.”

“You did all of that and nobody recognized you?” you said.

“One of my teammates hates the media so much that he’s perfected the art of disguising himself in public. I figured that if it works for him, despite him being built like a white-haired telephone pole, it would probably do fine for my purposes,” he said.

“I see,” you said. “I guess that’s what’s the deal with the clothes.”

“Exactly,” he said.

“Well,” you said. “I don’t…I mean, I don’t really know what to say. I never thought I’d actually see you again, so this is kind of a lot. I’m sorry.”

“Did you want to?” he said.

“Huh?” you said.

“Did you want to see me again?” he said, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Did you ever think about me?”

“Let’s walk back to my apartment,” you said instead of answering the question. “I want to show you something.”

“Okay,” he said, walking at your side obligingly, though he kept a careful distance between you both. You did not try to close it, not yet. It didn’t feel right.

“By the way, why did you follow me like a creep?” you said as you changed course towards your apartment complex. “You should’ve just said hi like a normal person instead of scaring me.”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just didn’t want to say anything.”

“Didn’t want to?” you said.

“Couldn’t,” he amended. “I didn’t realize how hard it would be until I saw you again. I had so many things I needed to tell you, and as soon as you were in front of me, I forgot them all.”

“That’s a shame,” you said. “If you remember any, let me know.”

He mulled this over for a moment before clearing his throat. “My brother’s getting married soon.”

“Really? How exciting,” you said. You had never met Sae Itoshi, so the news didn’t strike you one way or another, but you were just glad to hear Rin’s voice again, so you would’ve listened to him talking about anything and been happy about it.

“Yeah, it’s this girl he met while they were both on vacation by the beach in Spain,” he said. “She accidentally tackled him while trying to get her sandwich back from a seagull.”

“That’s a fun story,” you said. “Imagine your kids ask you how you met their mother and you get to tell them that.”

“There’s more to it, surprisingly,” he said. “But anyways, yeah, she’s nice. I don’t mind her that much.”

“Given that she’s going to be a part of your family, it’s good that you get along with her,” you said.

“Mhm,” he said. “Can you come?”

“To the wedding? Er, I don’t think I’m invited,” you said.

“I’m inviting you,” he said, his throat bobbing as he averted his gaze. “I want you to come. With me.”

“Oh,” you said. His eyes widened slightly.

“Am I — are you — um, Y/N. You don’t have a boyfriend or anything, right?” he said.

The two of you had reached the willow tree. You paused, gazing up at it. The branches no longer had their leaves, and it seemed more depressing and spindly instead of lush and inviting, as it did in the summer months. Rin stopped next to you, and you shifted so that there was only a hair’s breadth between your arm and his.

“When it rains really hard, this tree looks like a creature from one of those horror movies you used to watch,” you said. “It doesn’t scare me, not hardly, but I always wish I could run to you anyways. I guess there’s your answer. Every time there was a storm, I thought of you. Every time I saw this tree, I thought of you. Every time someone mentioned owls or soccer or scary films, I thought of you. So, yes. Sometimes, occasionally — or perhaps frequently, depending on how you see it — I did think of you. I did want to see you again.”

“What about the second question?” he said.

“A lot of people have tried,” you said. “Guys have asked me out. Friends have set me up and convinced me to go on blind dates. It never really works out, though. In the back of my mind, I’ve always been waiting for someone else. For a major jerk, in fact. The biggest jerk on the planet. Everyone probably thinks I’m crazy. It’s a ridiculous thing to say aloud, and even more ridiculous to actually do it, but here I am.”

“How long will you keep waiting for him?” he said.

“A while,” you said. “At least until I can meet someone as annoying as he is. I’ve been bored without him, and I don’t take well to boredom.”

Rin’s features were settled in a contemplative mask, his brows drawn together and his head tilted slightly. It was your chance to watch him; you had nothing more to say, so you opted for silence. Things like confessions and feelings weren’t really your style, nor were they his, but you hoped that he would understand what you had meant regardless. Just this once. Even if he never did again, this once, you wanted him to understand you.

“Thank you,” he said, and then: “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” you said.

“For making you wait. For letting you be bored,” he said. “Although it’s not my fault. I could’ve won the World Cup the year you left if it had happened then, and then we would’ve met again way sooner.”

“It’s okay. Listen, Rin, I want to — no, I have to ask you something,” you said, and then you took a deep breath to steady yourself. “Come summer, will I still be able to see you? Can I show you this tree once it has its leaves, or is this the last time?”

The last time. Was this reunion like a fleeting dream? Would it be better or worse when you were split apart from him anew? How much longer could you bear to keep waiting for him? You had no idea, but it seemed impossible, the thought of being apart from him once more.

“If you come home with me, you can always see me,” he said. “There’s another tree there. One that you’ll remember. Is that close enough?”

“What about my job and my life here?” you said, taken aback at the bold offer, which felt a little out of the blue, although maybe it shouldn’t have. “I’ll graduate this year, and then I’ll start working. How can I leave all of that behind?”

“You don’t have to leave it behind forever. Not if you don’t want to,” he said. “I’d never make you do that. But Sae’s — the wedding, it’s in the spring. The cherry tree will have flowers then. I can show it to you. You never saw it like that, I don’t think, but you’ll like it. I’m sure you will.”

A ghostly wind whistled through the willow tree’s branches, and the street lamp illuminating Rin’s face flickered. Part of you had never really believed you’d look upon that face again, no matter how much you had wanted to. His features were different from the last time you had seen him, a little sharper, more weathered, the once-permanent scowl replaced with a blank, neutral expression as he waited for you to respond, but it was still his face before you.

“It’ll be warm there, won’t it?” you said. “I’m always cold here.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’ll be warm. Are you cold right now?”

You nodded. He made to shrug off his sweatshirt, but you shook your head, catching his arm and then placing it around your shoulders. He cocked his head at you, and then, all at once, recognition flashed in his eyes. Wrapping the other arm around you of his own volition, he pulled you into his chest carefully, unsurely, his heart pounding — you knew because you could hear it, could feel it, the way it beat against his sternum like a battle-cry.

“I miss it,” you said. “I was only there for one semester, but I still miss it.”

It, or him? Maybe both. Definitely both.

“You don’t have to anymore,” he said. You wondered if he meant his home, which in a way was also your home, or if he was talking about himself. “It’s yours. It’ll always be yours. Our roles are reversed now, I guess.”

“Reversed?” you said. You must’ve sounded like an idiot or an echo, dumbly repeating everything he said without comprehension. 

“I’ll be the one waiting,” he said. “And if you want…you can come and find me. I won’t make it hard. I’ll be where I always have been.”

“Do you think you can wait as long as I did?” you said.

“If I have to,” he said. “Will you make me?”

“No,” you said. “No, I won’t. You only have to wait until the spring. Then I’ll be there, and I don’t think — to tell you the truth, I don’t think I’ll be able to leave once I am.”

“Is it wrong if I say good?” he said.

“Maybe,” you said. His body was likely akin to a furnace or something, you thought, for curiously, in his embrace, you no longer felt frigid, though it had only gotten cooler and cooler out. “But even if it is, I won’t be the one to judge you for it.”

“Good,” he muttered breathlessly. “Good.”

You smiled broadly this time, broadly and fully, though he couldn’t see you do it — or maybe it was because of that fact that you could beam like this, as brightly as if you had won the lottery. Then again, you supposed that to you if no one else, you had. After all, somehow, despite all odds, Rin had found you again, and this time, he wouldn’t leave. Never again would he leave, not entirely, and if he did ever go, it would only be to a place where he could wait for you longer.

“Yes,” you said. “Yes, Rin. It’s good.”

[mrwinterr]

Fast In My Car

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Summary: Self-driving car sex. That’s it. 

Warnings: Adult themes | 🚫 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🚫 | Smut 18+ (unprotected sex [risky business], vaginal penetration, oral [male receiving], riding, creampie), dirty talk and language.

Disclaimer: None of the spooky events of the Stranger Things (2016) series take place in this piece. Everything is just where it’s at because this is made up. 

A/N: I don’t own a car with this feature, so oops on the technicalities. We’re just trying to have fun. Self-driving or not, lol, this is dangerous, but sexy too. Idk if this has been done. It’s just another car sex fic.   

mrwinterr masterlist

When Steve said he had a surprise, you thought it would be something simple like flowers, candy or some cute gift, but what you don’t expect is him with a new car. 

“Check it out!” he exclaims from the curb, a big smile on his face, his arms outstretched wide with the new shiny vehicle glistening in the sunlight behind him. He looked so happy and who wouldn’t be with a new car, right? 

There was nothing wrong with his BMW, so you were a little confused. He had the best car from the lot, courtesy of his parents, and while your own car was still holding its own, you remained steadfast in your refusal to mooch off their wealth, which they’d grown indifferent to. You knew they meant well in their own way. They gave Steve everything he wanted and only the best for him, but you just weren’t cut from the same cloth. 

“Where did you get that?” your first reaction was to question it, although you already had a good feeling from where. 

“At the dealership,” he answered simply. 

“Okay, not what I meant, babe. I mean how and why?” you clarify not one for playing dumb with him at that moment. 

“My parents wanted to surprise us,” he explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to do. 

“There’s nothing wrong with the car you have,” you noted.

“Had,” he corrects you before revealing the fate of his car, “they traded the BMW.” 

“What?” you exclaimed, taken aback. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Come on, it’s just a car. People trade in for new ones all the time.” Everything was just that easy for the Harringtons. “Okay, not everyone...or all the time,” he admits, seeing the unamused look on your face. “I didn’t know you liked the BMW that much.” 

“It’s not that…I don’t know,” you trailed off, trying to not sound sentimental. “We just had a lot of memories with the BMW.” 

Steve’s expression softened as he started reminiscing about the nostalgia tied to his old car. He picked you up for your first date in that car. He drove you to work with that car when yours would inconveniently break down. You both went on several road trips in that car. Among a lot of other things…in that car. 

“Couldn’t they have given us something else? Like…I don’t know, a house in Chicago maybe,” you unrealistically suggest, but wouldn’t completely put it past them. 

“What’s wrong with the house we have right now?” He asks, failing to grasp your point. 

“This is your parents’ house!” You remind him, gesturing toward the big house behind you. 

“They barely live here. It’s practically ours.” Steve reasons. 

“Not the point,” you say, hands on your hips, not amused by that answer either. 

“Whatever. Let’s take this for a spin.”

You sigh and reluctantly make your way to the passenger side, where he held the door open for you. 

~

Steve took the long way to everything during the whole drive and you were getting bored fast. Admittedly, the ride was smooth and the seats were very comfortable. You struggle to keep your eyes open and head up right, trying to not doze off. 

It was such a mundane thing, Steve driving around town with one hand on the wheel while the other on your thigh, sometimes in your hand. You didn’t think much of it at first, but when you start to feel him get a little too handsy, you rouse awake. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Well, you mentioned how we have so much history with the BMW…I was thinking maybe we can make some memories here,” he shrugs casually, continuing to drive through the backroads. 

“I’m not having sex with you in this car just for that reason,” you retort. 

“Why not? It has a self-driving feature,” he counters like that would help his case. 

“That still doesn’t mean you don’t have to pay attention to the road.” 

“How is you giving me road head in the BMW going to be any different in here?” 

“Steve!” You yell appalled by his bluntness on the topic. 

“If anything, it’ll be easier for me to keep the car on the road.” He’s really trying to upsell you on that self-driving feature, “…and the windows are tinted. No one will see us.” He can see the gears in your head turning, contemplating your next move. You just need a little nudge and Steve knows how to push your buttons. 

“You can’t tell me that car sex isn’t hot.” His hand sliding further up your skirt. He can feel the heat radiating from your core through the thin barrier of your underwear, which boosts his confidence in his plan. He has to bite his bottom lip to conceal the smirk. 

There were so many things wrong about this like endangering not only your lives but others, getting caught, and wrecking the car to name a few, but despite that, he’s right; you can’t deny the idea. It was dangerous but also thrilling. 

You huff at his triumph, unbuckle your seatbelt, and turn to face him. Giddy, he pushes his chair back to make room for you, but at enough distance for him to ensure he can still reach the steering wheel should he need to. 

“You’re taking us home right after this,” you demand, watching him nod his head eagerly, then reach to grab him. “Shit, Steve,” you pull your hand back not expecting him to be half hard already. 

“What? You’re the one that put the idea of us fucking in a car in my head. I can’t help but think about it,” he says defensively, trying to shift some of the blame on you. “Plus, your legs look really nice.” 

Shaking your head, you refocus your attention on undressing his lower half. Steve raises his hips as best as he could to help you tug his pants and boxers down enough for his cock to spring out. 

You wrap your hand around his length, giving it a light squeeze before pumping him in a gradual pace you knew that got him going. You watch his lips part at the sensation you’re conjuring from him, and it only encourages you to continue. Seeing Steve come undone is one of your favorite things. 

Leaning over the console, you get closer, poke your tongue out to swirl it around the head, collecting the small bead of pre-cum pooling from the slit. Your mouth waters at the taste, hungry for more, so you skip the teasing and go right for it. Steve sighs when you take him in your mouth, your lips enclosed around his cock.  

You look up high to the left to see he’s thrown his head back against the headrest, eyes closed, so you pull yourself off him. “Hey! Eyes on the road!” He jolts, your warning ringing through his ears, straightening up a bit and a hand back on the wheel. 

You’re soon bobbing your head up and down his length, a hand assisting in the job before you slowly start taking more of him inch by inch. He bunches up your hair in his hands to get a good view, sneaking a peek while still trying to keep his eyes trained on the road. Feeling the head of cock hitting the back of your throat stirs something animalistic in Steve. You have to keep your hands on his hips to force them down, so he doesn’t lodge himself any deeper than you could handle. 

“Fuck. You’re so good at that.“ His voice drones with the sloppy sounds from working your mouth on his cock. 

You hold him in place for a few seconds until you pull away, in desperate need for air, a mix of fluids running down your chin, but continue fisting his cock, feeling him grow harder.

Satisfied, you carefully maneuver over to him, claiming his lap as your new seat. It’s an awkward angle, but nothing new to you both. You hike your skirt up and push the slit of your underwear to the side. You let out a long moan as you lower yourself down on his thick cock. Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you close your eyes to focus on the sensation wracking through your body, doing your best to ignore the sting from being stretched out. 

“Yes,” he lets out as you’re fully seated on his thick cock, allowing him to bask in the warmth of your wet and inviting pussy. “You’re so tight,” he whines, feeling your walls contract around him involuntarily, waiting patiently for you to get used to his girth. 

It’s always a bit of a struggle, but once you get accustomed to him, you pull your face away, brace your palms on his clothed chest and start to bounce on his cock. High enough to keep the tip snuggled inside and low enough to feel his balls press up against the bottom of your ass. He looks down, gawking at the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing in you. 

“You’re so wet,” he says, licking his lips at the delicious sight. “You like riding my cock don’t you?” He knows you do. Your juices make certain of that when it starts overflowing that it starts to drip down his balls, soaking his seat. 

He’s just eating up the effects that his words have on you, the vulnerable look displayed on your face, so different from the one that was reprimanding him earlier. “Making such a mess,” he chastises, grabbing a hold of your chin forcibly to look at him. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open from the orgasm building up in you. Once he has your attention, his stare is intense as he gravely speaks out, “my dirty girl,” before smashing your lips together, his tongue inviting himself in your mouth seeking your own.  

It’s not enough for Steve to be just content with his cock buried deep inside you, he pulls your top down, your breasts spilling out. “God, I love your tits,” he groans, taking his other hand off the wheel so he could get a good fill of them in his hands. 

Moaning at the sensation when his mouth latches onto them, teasingly nibbling the hardened buds, you get more heated. You start grinding on him, your hips swiveling in circular motions. He loves when you do this because it allows him to feel every part of you, sending him into overdrive. 

“That’s it, grind on that cock, baby,” he mumbles against your chest, his hot breath fanning your skin.

“It’s so good,��� you praise his cock. You let out a choked gasp when you ground harder, switching from circular to back and forth motions, “you’re so deep.” Feeling your body shiver, you try to memorize the angle where he’d just probed at, desperately needing him to hit it again. 

Your efforts proving futile, Steve notices your hips losing its rhythm, so he decides to take control. Sneaking his hands around to grope the globes of your ass, he draws you in closer to him, thrusting his cock deep inside to find it for you and judging by the volume of your moans getting louder and louder plus the way your walls contract around his member, he’s found your sweet spot. 

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes,” your voice wavering. You use the bit of strength remaining in your legs to sit up to focus on him. “Steve, I’m gonna cum,” your warning pushing him to drive it home.  

“Oh, baby,” he coos, bringing a hand up to push away the sweaty hair matted on your face. He loved watching you unravel too. He grips the side of your hips, fingers digging into your skin, not a care given about the marks they’d leave, and starts lifting you up and down his cock. 

“Right there! Fuck, yes. Steve, baby, right there.” 

“Yeah? You got it, baby.” He pistons his hips up into you, loving the way your breasts bounce from his harsh thrusts. “That’s it. Fucking come all over my cock…I’m right behind you, honey.” 

Your thighs clamped around his hips, hands twisting his shirt from the tight grip you held, you let out a silent sob as your orgasm rocks through you. Steve makes good on his word because as your walls start pulsing around his cock, it’s enough to make him come. His arms tightly wrapped around you, keeping you close and rooted down, he stills. Sensitive, you flinch and groan in bliss from feeling, the throb of each spurt of his cum shooting deep inside you.

When you both come down from the high, your body is slumped over him. Steve tilts your head leaning in to kiss you tenderly. He pulls away, a soft smile adorns his perfect face as you gaze lovingly at him. You almost forget that you’re in a moving vehicle until the warning noise breaks your catatonic state. 

“Shit,” he panics, letting go of you, quickly reaching over to align the wheel, almost crushing you in-between. You shoot him a threatening look to which he returns with a sheepish smile. 

“It’s cool! We’re alive aren’t we?” 

Shaking your head, Steve hissed as you carefully removed yourself from him, quickly sliding your panties back in place, not wanting to make a bigger mess than you already have or leave any stains before you climb over back to your seat. 

He pulls his pants back up on his own as you try to fix your appearance, but the post-coital glow doesn’t allow you to. He doesn’t look any more innocent either and he doesn’t care. These memories are yours alone. 

“Can we please go home now?” You ask, buckling up again. 

He looks over watching you draw a small heart on the foggy passenger side window, one of your quirky ways of expressing your love. 

“Yes, honey,” he says with a sweet smile, reaching over to hold your hand, and then taking the shortcut back home. 

A/N: Well that came out of nowhere. I'm a little rusty, but I'm done looking at this. Please give it a like, reblog or reply. I’d love to hear what y’all thought. Thank you for reading!

[maidragoste]

servant with daeron targaryen, they grew up together and are in old town?!

hi, how are you?

I apologize for taking so long to finish writing your request 😅

I hope you like the final result. if you have more requests with daeron, don't hesitate to send them to me because I really enjoyed writing this 🥰🥰

As I always say, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated because they motivate me to keep writing 💖💖

I remind everyone that my inbox is open to receive more requests (not just from daeron), headcanons, or thoughts 😉

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

You finished serving the food and checked with a quick glance that nothing was missing. You wanted everything to be perfect since tomorrow the prince would leave Old Town and go to war.

Once you confirmed that everything was ready you looked at the prince, who was sitting patiently waiting for you to finish. Normally you would have made a quick bow and left but this time you couldn't help but stare at him. You had been serving him for years when he first came from King's Landing, and you had gotten used to seeing him every day. Daeron wasn't like his other cousins who pretended you didn't exist when you entered their chambers to make their beds and he was always kind when he asked you for something. The both usually share a conversation while you tidy his chamber or serve him food. A couple of times he tried to help you but then he stopped when he saw that you were getting angry because it was supposed to be your job, not his.

Daeron even went so far as to make up fake tasks just so you could keep talking to him instead of going to take care of his uncles and cousins.

It would be strange for you not to see him every day. You would miss him.

“I will pray for your safe return, my prince,” you said looking at him with nostalgia.

“Thank you, I appreciate it very much” he replied with a small smile.

You nodded and bowed ready to leave but the prince stopped you by taking your arm. You looked at him surprised.

“Please stay. I would like to have dinner with you,” he asked as he let go of you, not wanting to impose himself on you. He had only grabbed you because he got nervous seeing you leaving.

You looked at the table again. Now it made sense because he asked for one more dish and ordered more food than usual. You thought that maybe the prince would share dinner with one of his cousins. You had never imagined that it was for you.

“My prince, you flatter me but it would be frowned upon for you to share the table with someone of such low status,” you said trying to ignore the sadness you felt for rejecting his invitation. You would love to spend more time with Daeron but it was not your place, your place is to be a simple servant.

“You were my first friend here and I would like to spend my last night with you”

Daeron would never forget how in his first days in Old Town he was sad to leave his home and didn’t want to meet the rest of his family you encouraged him, and you reminded him that he could always write letters to his brothers and his mother, and when you could you played with him because you knew he still couldn’t get along with his cousins. Not only that but you never told anyone how he cried in those days. The first time you found him crying Daeron could barely sleep that night because he was sure the next day there would be whispers about how sensitive and foolish he was to be crying just because he was away from King’s Landing. But that never happened, no one ever found out. And that’s how you gained his trust.

Maybe you are a weak woman but you couldn't refuse his invitation again, not when you could hear the sincerity in his voice and you could see how his purple eyes looked at you with the same longing you looked at him with.

“Fine” you agreed and you saw how he seemed to relax as you sat down." I hope to be good company"

“You always are,” he declared, causing your face to start to heat up.

“You can't say that kind of thing” you scolded him nervously.

It's just dinner, you reminded yourself trying to calm your heart at his statement.

“Why?” he asked genuinely.

“Because you are a prince and I am a servant. If anyone were to hear you it would be frowned upon.”

Daeron frowned. You are more than a servant, he knows you, you are his friend and he knows that you are a kind person who cares for others, especially him.

Besides, he is the third son, it is not as if he were going to inherit anything or have the duty to have a good marriage. He was sure that if he told his mother that he wanted to be with you, she would end up accepting him or at least he knew that he could convince Aegon to accept him. He didn't think that it would surprise them either after all he usually talks about you in his letters.

“I don't care what others think as long as I can be with you.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” you asked, feeling nervous, frustrated, and even more in love with him. It wasn’t fair that he told you this before he left.

Months ago, Daeron wouldn’t have told you because he was afraid of making you uncomfortable and ruining things between you. He could handle you rejecting his feelings, but he couldn’t handle you moving away from him, starting to avoid him and stopping talking to him.

But now, with the war so close, he couldn’t leave without first declaring his feelings to you. He knew that if he left without doing so and suffered on the battlefield, the last thing he would think about would be you and how sorry he was for not telling you how he felt.

“Because if I die it would be one of my greatest regrets to leave this world without first telling you how I feel about you, how important you are, how much I appreciate you, how you brighten my day with your presence and how I spend every night wishing you would be more than just my friend,” said the prince, opening his heart to you, and you listened to him in wonder, because you never dreamed that he could tell you something like that, but at the same time you wanted to cry because this seemed to be a farewell.

“You’re not going to die,” you said instantly, taking his hand across the table, forgetting decorum and your place. “Please don’t say that,” you pleaded, clinging to his hand, needing to feel his touch. If he were to die, you would spend the rest of your days mourning him.

“You know that is a possibility, my lady.” Seeing the anguish in your eyes, Daeron lifted their clasped hands and kissed yours. “But I will do everything in my power to return safely to you.”

“Do you promise? Because I couldn’t bear to lose you now that I know my feelings are reciprocated,” you admitted with a trembling voice.

Daeron smiled, feeling happy knowing that you loved him too, but he didn’t want to see you distressed.

“I promise,” he said, using his other hand to caress your cheek lovingly, and you knew you would spend the rest of your days remembering this moment. “When I get back, I will be so close to you that you will get tired of me,” he assured, making you laugh.

And as he listened to you laugh, Daeron thought that now, besides protecting his family, he had another reason to want to win the war. He had to get back to you.

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[inbloomwriting]

Everything to me - Chapter 2

Chapter two - Blueberry & Kidney Bean

Chapter 1

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: 5.6k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. I tagged everyone who asked me to do it when I posted part 1. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

The store smells like dust and cardboard and old carpet. It's not necessarily a bad smell, it just doesn't live up to her memories.

She remembers the perpetual scent of menthol cigarettes and some kind of cheap men's perfume wafting through the air. The store used to smell like her dad and now it doesn't. And that just makes it all even more real.

Boxes upon boxes litter the room, filled with records. Some older, some newer. Guitars adorn one wall while the others are covered in posters from tours that happened long ago, some even before she was born.

There is something comforting about being here. It’s like stepping back into the past. Long nights watching Dad and his friends play their guitars after store-closing. Discovering new bands whenever a new shipment of records came in. And yes - she is the first to admit that in her younger years, she mostly chose the records by how cool the cover looked. 

It’s also memories of Dad getting caught up in the after-hours jam sessions and forgetting about her dance recital and that one time he threw a guitar at the window out of anger that a shipment of records got lost. It took him months to get the window replaced. She could probably still trace exactly where the crack used to be. 

Being here is very reminiscent in all the good and bad ways. But it’s a warped version of the past. One that’s laced with all the knowledge she has now. Like a movie that you’ve seen a million times.

“I don’t think pregnant women are supposed to be doing that!” 

Jamie’s voice cuts through the nostalgia-induced fog like a sunbeam through the clouds. And it also gives her a little heart attack as the only sound filling the room up until now had been her moving around and the soft tunes of an Eric Clapton record playing in the background.

“Jesus fuck! You scared me. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to startle pregnant women either and give them heart attacks.” 

He looks at her with those big expressive eyes of his and a comically overdone pout on his lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But seriously give me that.” 

He’s so quick to take the box of records from her hands (Y/N) hardly has time to process what’s going on. 

Quite honestly, his worry is a bit misplaced here but she appreciates the sentiment even if he might be a little overly cautious at that moment. It feels nice to be cared for. 

“You know I’m pregnant, not sick, right? I can carry stuff.” 

“Yeah but why would you if you got me carrying it for you?” 

He has a point, she has to give him that. 

“Fair enough. Those go over there in the corner please.” 

Jamie follows her order without hesitation and, after setting the box down in its designated place, his eyes dart across the room and light up with childlike wonder and curiosity.

“This used to be your dad’s place, yeah? It looks really neat with all them posters and shit. Like stepping into an old person’s mind but like a cool old person that buys you alcohol when you’re 15 and lets you watch horror movies when your mum said no.” 

Of all the adjectives in the world, (Y/N) wouldn’t ever think of using the word “cool” to describe her dad. He was creative and fun and eccentric and stubborn — but cool? 

Then again he was her dad and no one ever likes to think of their own parents as cool. Oh god, will their kid think she’s uncool?! 

“Uh yeah, the shop and the apartment right above us. He owned it, now I do. I’m trying to get it all fixed up and ready to be sold.”

“What? Why?” 

There is something to be said about Jamie’s face and his absolute inability to mask his emotions. Everything he thinks and feels is mirrored twice as vividly on his face. He’s all furrowed brows and pouty lips. 

“I mean — it’s a record store. People don’t really buy records anymore. Be honest, when was the last time you bought one instead of just streaming the music?” 

“Like two weeks ago.” 

“Fuck off, no you didn’t!” 

“Uh — yeah, I did. Olivia Rodrigo if you must know.” 

A soft giggle falls from (Y/N)’s lips. How fitting for Jamie to buy an album full of teenage angst. 

“Well, you’re one of very few people though. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to sell. I’d keep it open. Instead of selling instruments, it’d turn that part of the shop into a little stage with a coffee counter or a bar. Host open mic nights and shine a spotlight on undiscovered artists. But the world isn’t perfect and there is no way I can afford to turn that vision into reality so really there’s no use in letting myself get too caught up in it.” 

There is pity in his eyes and she hates it. She doesn’t want pity, not his or anyone else’s. Has seen enough of it, especially lately. If she had received just one more “Sorry for your loss” card in the mail from relatives she hadn’t seen in decades, she probably would’ve stabbed a fork in her own eye. Pity does no good to no one. 

“Anyway, Jamie. Not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you, it’s kind of necessary if we want to get this whole beings-friends-thing right, but uh — what are you doing here?” 

“Jesus, can’t a guy just come around to say hi to his baby? “ 

She thinks the way he says the word “Baby” in his thick accent is surprisingly and undeniably adorable. As if it ends in an “eh” instead of a “y”.

“By the way, they’re as big as a blueberry now.” 

And the way he’s keeping track of the baby's growth gets her right in the heart. For some reason, this seems to come so naturally to him when it all still feels weird and foreign and surreal to her. As if it were happening to someone else and she’s just a mere spectator. The idea that something as small as a blueberry will one day turn into a proper baby, a child, a teenager … a whole ass adult - is so wild to her. Almost incomprehensible. A person with their own feelings and dreams and personality. (Y/N) wonders if at any point in this pregnancy, she'll wake up and it'll all just make sense or if that only comes once she's holding the baby in her arms.

“That's cute. Doesn't answer my question though. What brings you here?”

A shadow of something flickers across Jamie’s face. Something unreadable and unfamiliar. Something that makes (Y/N) feel a sense of dread bubbling up in her stomach.

“I uh — I can’t do this.”

And there it is. That unfamiliar shadow is now a metaphorical atom bomb, a mushroom cloud of all that could have been and won’t be.

“Oh okay. I mean no, not okay. This sucks actually. You said you wanted to be part of the baby’s life and now you’re bailing? That’s a shit move, Jamie. You’re a right prick for pulling that crap.” 

“What? Oh no!” his eyes widen as the realization sets in. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well then what did you mean? Cause you’re truly giving me a heart attack right now. Second one for today. You really need to start working on your conversation starters.” 

She had given him the chance to opt out of being a dad, to not be a part of the baby’s life. It seemed like the right thing to do and, foolishly, (Y/N) had believed that she’d be okay with him doing just that. In this very moment though, she feels everything but okay. The idea of Jamie changing his mind is terrifying. 

Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you need something — or someone until you’re faced with the possibility of losing them.

“I mean, I can’t do this alone. I need to tell someone. All I keep thinking about is the baby and I feel like I am going to explode any second now. I know we can’t tell everyone yet ‘cause of — well you know, things going wrong and stuff. But I need to tell someone. You got to tell Rebecca and your mum, I think it’s only fair I get to tell two people as well, yeah?”

A sense of relief floods her. Starts in her toes and fills her all the way to the top of her head. He wants this — wants the baby. It’s not just her in this. It’s nice to know you have someone in your corner. It’s also scary. Because he deserves to know just whose team he’s on. And being vulnerable fucking sucks. 

“Jamie, that’s fine. Absolutely you can tell your mum.” 

“And Simon? You got two people so — “

“I didn’t though.” 

“Uh yes, you did. I know you told Rebecca.” 

“That’s right.”

“And your mum too”.

The silence that follows his words is deafening. Being vulnerable means also admitting guilt. It means owning up to all of your mistakes. Though we are not the sum of our mistakes, they are what help shape the person we become. And (Y/N) really doesn’t think they make her a very good one.

“And your mum too?” 

More silence.

“You didn’t tell your mum? Why not? “

To his credit, Jamie looks truly surprised and confused. There is no judgment there, just absolute bewilderment and that signature softness that rounds out his features and settles in his eyes whenever Jamie talks to her about something serious. Granted they’ve not had that many conversations but she hopes that softness stays. She hopes that maybe their baby can have those soft, gentle eyes too.

“I’m not sure. I think I’m scared. My mum and I have a — complicated relationship. I disappoint her, she judges me. You know, the usual.” 

“You think she’ll be disappointed because we're having a baby? Is it because of me?”

(Y/N) shrugs, breaking eye contact and fixing her gaze on the old grey carpet with the ugly 90s pattern. What if those soft eyes can look straight through her, see all the ugly parts and the insecurities? That’s too scary for now. Too much too soon.

“No, it has nothing to do with you. Think she’ll just be disappointed I didn’t get pregnant according to the timeline she dreamed up for my life when I was like 2 years old. Had it all planned out for me and I never stuck to it.” 

Jamie is quiet for a moment but (Y/N) doesn’t dare to look back up at him. She can’t deal with any more pity.

“Well if you want to practice telling a mum, we can start with mine.”

“Huh?” 

“You can come to Manchester with me if you want. To tell my mum. We’ll have one mum down then, makes it easier to do it a second time. It’s science.” 

Jamie has the fascinating quality of making you believe in his words just by being so undeniably charming and because he believes in them himself. He makes it look easy when it is everything but.

“And if things don’t go well with your mum at least you’ll know you have at least one mum you can rely on, even if it’s not your own. She raised me pretty much by herself so she knows a thing or two about babies and parenting and stuff.” 

The mocking raise of (Y/N)’s right eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by Jamie who opens his lips to a silent gasp and clutches his chest with an overly dramatic gesture. 

“What? You saying I didn’t turn out perfectly?”

“No,” she laughs, a lightness festering in her chest. Like the first rays of sunshine after a cold winter that never seemed to end. Like a glass of wine after a long day at work. Like your favorite song on the radio at the exact moment you need it most. “I think you turned out exactly the way you were supposed to.” 

“Thanks,” Jamie says with that cheeky smile playing on his lips that makes him look a little younger than he actually is. Then he dares to wink at her and it’s a little annoying but also insanely charming. “Not sure you meant it as a compliment but I am taking it. Now when are you free for a trip up to Manchester?” 

(Y/N)’s been on a lot of road trips around the country when she was younger. She’s even spent a whole summer traveling Europe, partially by train but most of the time was spent stuffed in a Fiat Punto with 3 of her friends and all their luggage. It was stuffy, it was chaotic and it was immensely fun. None of those road trips ever involved a shiny black Aston Martin Rapide though. 

Or a famous footballer dressed in the ugliest lime green sweater (Y/N) has ever seen. 

“That’s all the luggage you got?” Jamie questions as he moves the black shades off of his eyes and sets them on the top of his head, holding back some of his hair. It shouldn’t work so well but it does. 

“I mean, we’re only staying for a night right? Why? Should I have brought more? How much did you pack?” 

He glances at her, then towards the car, and back at her. A sheepish look crosses his face before being replaced by his childlike cheekiness. “That’s confidential. Don’t worry about it, yeah?” 

“I got my ginger lollies, that’s all that matters really.” 

“You feeling alright?” 

“Mh, I’m good. Just pregnant.” 

His eyes drop down to her stomach for just a second before he nods his head in what (Y/N) can only describe as a mix of pride and satisfaction. “Yeah, you are.” 

That’s new. Well not new-new but it hasn’t happened since the day of the funeral. That tingly feeling in her stomach that has fuck all to do with the baby and everything with how the baby got there. Yes, Jamie is hot and (Y/N) is the first to admit as much but there has been so much stress and chaos and she hardly had time to think about anything but surviving and making sure not to completely lose herself in bad visions of what-ifs that her brain has had no time to process any feelings of arousal or lust. That look he just gave her though, that one made her remember it for just a second.

“You sure you’re alright?” 

Jamie’s voice shakes her from her daydream and brings her back to the real world, her eyes focusing back on the obscene car parked in front of her tiny apartment building looking so insanely out of place.

“Uh yes, I’m fine. I just — sometimes I forget that you’re famous.” 

Jamie regards her for a moment before shrugging his shoulder and grabbing the bag from her hands. ��I don’t. It’s fun. Now come on, let’s goooooo.” 

His voice is dipped in excitement and there’s a bounce in his step. If this is how the prospect of seeing his mother makes him feel and behave, she must be one lovely woman. Whenever (Y/N) thinks of her own mother her chest fills with tiny metaphorical icicles. Sharp and rough and painful. It’s all regret and judgment and disapproval. It’s “You gained weight”, “you look tired”, and “You should really look into getting a new job”. Daggers disguised as roses. Stabs right to the heart in the name of being honest. “I just care about you, because I love you, because I am your mother!” 

If there is one thing (Y/N) knows for sure, it’s that she will never ever find the need to resort to criticism and thinly veiled malice in order to show her child that she cares. They will know. Every single day. Because she’ll make sure to show them. Every single day in all the big and tiny ways a person can show their love. 

“Kidney Bean?”

“Kidney Bean. And apparently, the baby is sprouting webbed fingers and toes right now. Oh, and it’s starting to move!” 

“Can you feel that?” 

“No, not yet.” 

“It’s mental. Last week she was the size of a blueberry and now she’s a kidney bean. Kid’s growing up too fast.” 

It’s true. There is so much happening all at once and it’s almost impossible to really process it all. Suddenly there is a tiny spark of a human inside her. Not really a baby yet but a baby to her. And it's moving and developing and changing every second of every day. Fucking insane.

“Wait … you said she. You think it’s a girl?”

Maybe it’s the sunlight casting a glow through the windshield but (Y/N) is almost certain she can just about make out a blush dusting Jamie’s cheeks. 

“Dunno.”

“Jamie Tartt, do you want to be a girl dad?” 

He glances at (Y/N) through the corner of his eyes for just a moment but it’s enough for her to see the sincerity in him. This is something he’s thought about before. Learning new things about Jamie is fascinating.

“Ah,  it’s stupid, really. It’s — It’s dumb or whatever.” 

“No, come on, don't go shy on me now. Tell me.” 

He takes a deep breath. A moment passes then another. There is no rush. Sometimes silly thoughts are the result of harsh truths. 

“Told you my dad was a prick. Like the biggest piece of shit walking this earth, yeah? And I knew that all my life. Thing is I still tried to impress him. I just — I wanted him to like me so badly. Just felt wrong that me own dad didn’t care about me and that made me angry. And I kept that anger inside me for so long. Sometimes when I think about the baby and the future I am scared that if I have a son that anger will jump over to him. Like maybe all Tartt men are cursed or some shit like that. But if I had a little girl maybe that would make it easier for me to be a good dad. I don’t mind either way, obviously, but the idea of having a son scares me.” 

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been with her so far and by the way he clenches his jaw and grabs onto the steering wheel just a little tighter, (Y/N) can tell this isn’t easy on him. It means a lot that he shares this part of him with her anyway. It feels like they are actually becoming friends. So opening up to him in return is only half as horrifying. 

“When I was a kid, maybe 11 or 12, I wrote a short story for school and I won an award. They did this big ceremony thing where the 3 finalists got to read their stories out loud for an audience and then receive their prizes. My mum didn’t show up, not sure if it was because she stayed longer at the office and didn’t care enough to leave on time or if she just didn’t feel like getting out of the house. Point is, she wasn’t there. When I came home that night I was sad, obviously, and I was also pissed. Because why the fuck couldn’t she take one night off to come see me succeed at something even if it wasn’t something she deemed worthy of praise. 

So I yelled at her and I’m sure I said some hurtful things. But I was so devastated and angry and I needed an outlet for once. She called me ungrateful but I was used to that, she always called me ungrateful. Then she looked at me with that look of absolute resignation and malice and she said that she hopes I have a daughter like me one day and that she makes me realize how hard it is to love me. 

When I think of the baby, sometimes I see a little girl too. One that I will love so much she never has to doubt it for a single second. And I will also prove my mother wrong. Because it will be so easy to love my little girl and it would’ve been so easy to love me, her little girl.” 

It’s the first time she’s ever said those words out loud. Truly, (Y/N) had not expected for them to come out in an Aston Martin, on the way to meet her baby’s father’s mother but life doesn’t seem to care for plans very much these days.

Softly, as if to not startle her, Jamie places his hand on hers, squeezing gently.

“I think your mum is a right bitch.” 

“Thanks. I think your dad is a huge asshole.” 

“We’re gonna be better than them, right?” 

It’s not really a question. It’s more of a promise.

“We will. I know it.”

His hand doesn’t leave hers for a good long while. 

The nerves don’t hit her until they pull up to the quaint little house with the white front. There’s a rose bush to the side and some kids playing football just across the way. The nerves don’t hit her until Jamie puts the car in park but when they do, they hit her like a freight train.

“Woah, you alright?” 

“Huh?” 

“You look all pale and like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Do you have to puke?”

A chuckle falls from her lips at the absurdity of it all. In all honesty, she’s not met a lot of parents yet but the few she did meet were parents of actual partners. People she had been dating for a while. It was a natural progression of steps. This is all wrong and sideways and topsy-turvy. You’re supposed to meet the mum first and then get pregnant. 

Again with the life and the plans. 

“I’m fucking nervous.” 

“Hah,” Jamie laughs. The audacity of this guy. “You’re nervous to meet my mum? Why? She’s an angel.”

“Do you not know how intimidating that is? Like, if she was shit I wouldn’t care but she sounds wonderful and I want her to like me. No, I need her to like me. Desperately. And I can only imagine what she thinks of me already. Some floozy who gets knocked up and really just wants your money.” 

Before she even fully realizes what’s happening, (Y/N) feels Jamie’s hands on her cheeks, framing her face in warmth.

“Calm down, please. I promise it’ll be alright. My mum will love you, I know it. Probably more than she loves me. Actually no that’s a lie, but she will love you and she will love our baby. Promise.”

“She’s not gonna judge me for — you know. Getting pregnant even though we’re not dating or anything.” 

“My mum was married to my dad, worst person on planet Earth. Don’t think she’s in any position to judge you. It’ll be alright, trust me.” 

She hardly knows this man and yet she can’t help but do just that. Trust him.

The first thing (Y/N) notices about Georgie is her smile. A smile that is so familiar because it looks exactly like Jamie’s smile. Warm and radiant and true. A part of (Y/N) hopes that their baby inherits that same smile. Partially because it’s a really good smile and partially because maybe that could help Jamie realize that he is more than the sum of his father’s problems and mistakes. He is all his mother’s boy.

“Oh, I missed you, my baby.” 

Georgie wraps her arms around Jamie’s middle, getting swallowed by his frame for a moment. There’s no denying that part of (Y/N)’s heart breaks a little seeing how loving of a relationship these two have and wondering where she and her own mother went wrong.

And as it so happens with so many kids that have never been loved quite the way they deserved, (Y/N) can’t help but search for the problem in herself. 

“Yeah sorry for not visiting earlier. You know how it is with training and stuff.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I know my boy is busy being a star.” 

The words hold a slight mocking, never mean but in the way that only people who are close can tease each other. You know every word comes laced with deep affection, with pride, with love.

“And it’s so nice to meet you too. I’m Georgie.” 

It takes a second for (Y/N) to realize that Jamie’s mum is now talking to her directly.

“I uh — oh thank you. Nice to meet you too, I’m (Y/N).” 

Georgie smells like mint chewing gum and floral perfume as she pulls (Y/N) into a hug. She’s soft and gentle and it’s been the first hug from a mother (Y/N) has received in quite some time.

“Sorry, didn’t even ask if you’re a hugger.”

“Oh that’s alright, don’t worry about it.” 

She’s not a hugger, never really was, but there is something about Georgie granting her some affection that isn’t all that bad. Maybe their kid can have at least one grandmother who cares and who isn’t completely disgusted by the idea of showing any kind of positive emotions.

“Jamie never brings girlfriends around so I’m a bit out of my element here if I’m being honest.” 

“Mum we’re not — she’s not.” Jamie takes a big breath before starting again “(Y/N) and I are friends, yeah? Told you about it on the phone.” 

“Right, right. Well, you don’t bring around a lot of friends either so same difference, really. Now come inside will you, I’m sure we got a lot to catch up on.”

Oh if only she knew how true that sentiment really is.

There are pictures of Jamie staring back at (Y/N) from every corner of the house and Georgie leads them through the hallway and towards the kitchen. Every wall and every shelf holds a memory of him at one point in his life. Gap toothed with a football in hand smiling, surrounded by a field of tulips arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulder, his teenage self smoldering at the camera with an even more questionable haircut than the one he is sporting right now. Oh to be loved in a way that every past version of you is being remembered.

As they reach the kitchen a sweet scent fills the room when a man clad in an apron turns around and faces them with a huge smile playing on his face. He has a dorky kind of charm to him that immediately puts you at ease. Maybe it’s just the frilly apron, maybe it’s the big oven gloves, maybe it’s the smile. Either way, (Y/N) thinks that if they take the news well, her kid might have truly lucked out on one side of the grandparents department. 

“Jamie, welcome home.” 

“Hi Simon, thanks, mate. Glad to be back. This is (Y/N).” 

“The friend, right.” Simon says and shoots Georgie a look that neither of them misses. Subtlety doesn’t seem to be one of his best qualities. “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you too. It smells amazing in here.” 

“I found this new recipe for honey blondies. Not sure if they'll be any good but I guess we'll find out. If you guys want to go have a seat, I'll come bring them over.”

“Actually,” Jamie speaks up while nervously fiddling with his hands. “I was hoping we could have a talk before we do anything else. There’s something I need to tell you both.” 

Imagining the hypothetical scenario of telling your mum you’re having a baby and actually doing it really are two completely different things it seems. Gone is all of Jamie’s confidence and replaced with a whole lot of anxiety. 

“You're worrying me, Jamie. What has you acting so serious? Did you get someone pregnant or something?”

Georgie's words are followed by a thick awkward silence. It's heavy and suffocating and it makes (Y/N) feel uneasy in both her heart and her head.

It doesn't take long for Jamie’s parents to realize what his silence means. Everything communicated by not saying a single word.

“Oh, fuck.”

And there's nothing to add to Georgie's reaction. It's the exact same one (Y/N) had when she first saw those faint blue lines.

Of all the possible outcomes and ways this day could’ve gone, (Y/N) had not expected to find herself staring at not only a curly-haired Roy Kent but also come face to face with two very persuasive arguments belonging to no other than Keeley fucking Jones. 

“This is surreal.” 

The posters stare back at her all crinkled paper and bleached ink, as if to mock her silently. 

“Ah, well I told them to redecorate when I moved out, think they just haven’t gotten around to it yet.” 

A light dusting of pink settles on the apples of Jamie’s cheeks as well as the tips of his ears. This man can’t hide his emotions for the life of him. It’s quite adorable really. 

“Do they know?” 

“Does who know?” 

“Roy and Keeley. Do they know you have their pictures up in your room?”

“Well no and It’s not my room anymore, is it? ‘S not like I have ‘em hanging at home. Put these up ages ago.” 

A giggle slips through (Y/N)’s lips at his desperate attempt to talk himself out of this situation. 

“It’s okay, Jamie. I won’t tell.” 

“There’s nothing to tell, alright?” he responds in mock offense before sitting down on his childhood bed next to (Y/N). “Just liked boobs and football and those two were the best those fields had to offer, yeah? Can’t really blame me.” 

“Not much has changed has it?”

He shrugs his shoulders in response “Nah. Still like boobs and football but no way I’d put up a poster of granddad’s ugly mug nowadays.”

From the few times they talked about his job, including his teammates and coaches, (Y/N) was able to gather that Jamie’s relationship with Roy is something special. Odd, but special. Maybe that’s what happens when you end up working with your childhood idol. Either way, no matter how much shit he likes to talk about him, it’s clear that Jamie respects and admires Roy a great deal still.

“And uh — and Keeley?” 

“What about her?” 

“Is she — are you — how are things?” 

She still remembers that crestfallen look on his face on the day of the funeral. That infinite sadness in his eyes. She hadn’t put two and two together at that moment but later that night it all clicked. Keeley was the woman he was in love with, the woman who did not love him back. And while (Y/N) knows that she and Jamie are only bound together by happenstance and fate — if one chooses to believe in that, and that there is nothing romantic about their situation, it does sting a little to know that the man you’re having a baby with is in love with someone else.

“We’re good. We’re friends, think that’s all we’ll ever be. Her and Roy, they’re happy and I don’t want to ruin it for either of them. Keeley and I just were not right together.” 

“And you’re okay with that?” 

He nods his head, a small smile playing on his lips “Yeah, I’m alright with it. If I hadn’t made a fool of myself at the funeral then you and I wouldn’t have — you know, and then we wouldn’t be having a baby. Little Kidney Bean.” 

“That’s true. Your mum seemed excited.” 

“Hah, sorry about her. She can be intense.” 

Intense might be the understatement of the century. It took her approximately 2.3 seconds to get over the initial shock of the announcement and really process it before Georgie let out a scream of pure excitement and joy and wrapped both Jamie and (Y/N) up in her arms. She didn’t fully let go for a good 20 minutes. It was intense. It was also phenomenal.

“Don’t apologize. I am so glad she took it so well, Simon too. At least now I’ll have the certainty that my baby will have one set of loving grandparents at least.” 

“Hey,” Jamie says and nudges her shoulder with his “We’ll sort out telling your mum next, okay. I’m sure it’ll go better than you think. And if not we can always call up my mum for some more hugs and a pep talk. Whatever happens, you won’t have to do it alone. I promise.” 

For what is probably the first time in her life (Y/N) lets herself believe that there truly is someone else having her back, undisputedly and all the way. It’s unfamiliar. It’s a little scary. It’s also wonderful.

“Thanks, Jamie. I appreciate it, I really do. Think so far we’re doing alright, huh?” 

“I’d say so. Two sexy parents and a little Kidney Bean.” 

Their laughter echoes through Jamie’s childhood bedroom for quite a while longer until at some point it stills and gives room to soft breathing and quiet snores. The bed isn’t meant for two grown adults and really Jamie truly meant to sleep on the couch but somewhere between talks of baby clothes and childhood memories, eyes grew heavy and tired, and soon enough both of them are fast asleep.

Just them and their little Kidney Bean 

— and a curly-haired Roy Kent 

— and Keeley’s boobs.

taglist (@ me if you want to be taken off or added): @captainfrisbee - @scaramou - @mischiefmanaged71 - @rexorangecouny - @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog - @tweasley20 - @dreamtrydoforkinggood - @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo - @heletsmelovehim - @snubug - @katdahlali - @oldglitterstory - @lalla-04p - @aiyaiy

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

CORPSE BRIDE CREEPYPASTA AU

Part 1~ With this ring, I ask you to be mine

Summary: Basically the Corpse Bride movie except with Toby and Y/n (and also some creative liberties >:D)

Credits: The Corpse Bride- Tim Burton, Ticci Toby- Creepypasta, Divider- @ wcnbear

A/n: IM FINALLY BACK ARGHHH!!! IM SO EXCITED TO GET WRITING AGAIN I'VE MISSED THIS SO MUCH! Thank you to everyone who was so patient with me whilst i took this break from the blog, and i hope you all like this little (long awaited) treat!! I will also be putting out all of the other requests in my inbox either with this series or shortly after, so if you've sent in a request be on the look out!

Part 1 (you're here!) Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Clop clop clop clop....The sound of the horses pulling the carriage along a stone road rang within Toby's mind. Today he was meeting his to-be bride for the first time in order to rehearse the wedding. It wasn't too uncommon, to not know who your spouse is before you marry them in this time. His fiancé came from a powerful and respected family, and his family owned multiple businesses putting them well off financially. It was normal to marry for gaining something and not for love, and yet Toby couldn't help but feel nervous. He tried to imagine what his wife might look like. Maybe she'd have a soft face and long eyelashes. Or maybe curly hair and a pointed nose? He then pondered what her personality might be like. He hoped for a kind, caring woman, but couldn't help the nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him she could be cruel and couldn't care less about him as her husband.

His thoughts came to an end as the horses abruptly stopped and he heard the coach's coughing get closer to the door. His mother gave him a quick look over, a straightening of his collar and a pat on the cheek before getting out of the carriage along with his father. Toby hesitated for a moment before stepping out and looking at the home in front of him. It was big, not as big as his house, but it looked bigger than it was due to the lack of furniture taking up any room. He was ushered inside by the butler who answered the door, and handed his coat off to be hung up. He walked with his parents along a hallway until something caught his eye, a piano in the middle of the room. As everyone else walked ahead, he hung back and gazed at the piano. He'd learned to play it at a very young age, with the help of a hired teacher. Playing now brought him a sense of comfort and nostalgia, and before he knew it, his feet were moving to the seat and his fingers were on the keys playing one of the first songs he'd learned. It came to him as easily as breathing, and it helped calm the nerves that had been growing since this morning.

Upstairs, a young girl by the name of Natalie sat at her vanity getting ready for her first meeting with her fiancé. She had long since had her hair and dressing done, and was now putting the finishing touches on her hair when she heard a piano being played. The noise shocked her and she stopped mid tuck of a lock of hair. She couldn't recall the last time that piano was used, not that she hadn't wanted to of course, but her mother forbade it. She didn't even know it still played properly and before she knew it, her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she was making her way down stairs.

She comes to stand by a young man, who she assumes to be her future husband. (What other man around her age would be here on the day of their wedding's rehearsal?) He seems very immersed in the song he is playing, and she decides not to stop him. Why would she? She's longed to play that piano since she was a child. Unfortunately, he sees her out of the corner of his eye and jumps, making him mess up a note. He immediately stands up and smooths his suit out, trying to stammer out an apology. "Forgive me, I-" She presses a finger to his lips "No, it's alright...You play beautifully" Natalie says bashfully. Toby goes quiet for a moment before muttering a "Thank you". Natalie crosses her hands over her dress and begins to sway back and forth nervously. "You must be Tobias." Toby nods and fidgets with his fingers. "And you, Natalie" She nods. "Tomorrow, we are to be....." He trails off and she finishes it expectantly "Married?" He lets out a nervous chuckle and nods. She sighs and takes a seat on the piano's bench. "I've never cared for marriage, ever since I was small all I wanted to do was live alone. Strange for a woman, isn't it?" Toby absentmindedly agrees, "Yes, well....No!! Not-not strange at all!" Natalie lets out a small smile at his nervousness, "Well, if my husband to be doesn't think so, I think that is a good sign." Toby also begins to smile and offers his hand to her. As she takes it, the door down the hallway that his parents disappeared to opens. "Good heavens! A young lady and gentleman such as yourselves have no reason to be alone together! Into the room, both of you!"

At the sight of her mother, Natalie quickly drops her hand to her side and hangs her head as she walks to the rehearsal room, followed shortly by Toby.

Now dear readers, let us understand something. Back in the day, mental disorders weren't all that well understood or accepted. And Toby having Tourette's Syndrome is seen at the very least as him being rude. With something as delicate as wedding vows, even a stutter can ruin the whole thing, especially in the Victorian era. So when Toby is an anxious wreck, and he has Tourette's Syndrome, and it's the Victorian era, AND his fiancé's parents are terrifying, he is BOUND to mess things up. And this is exactly what happens.

Almost three hours later, they are still practicing the vows. Not even the rest of the ceremony, only the vows. No matter what he does, Toby just can't seem to get it right. He either stutters too long, tics in the middle of them (honestly kind of rare), draws a blank, etc. The priest's patience is growing very thin, and everyone is tired of being there. "Again, from the top!" The priest exclaims, motioning to Toby. Toby clears his throat and wipes the sweat off his palms. "Right, er. With this candle.." He leans down to light his candle, but it doesn't seem to want to light anymore. He giggles nervously "Um, this candle...." He says as he desperately tries to light it again. A deep sigh comes from the priest as Toby finally manages to get it lit up. "With this candle I shall- ack!!" He is cut off as a particularly painful tic goes through his whole body, causing him to tense up abruptly and subsequently, throw the candle off behind him somewhere. The next thing he hears is a scream and people clamoring around his future mother in law. He turns to see where the candle landed, only for his face to drop in pure horror as he realizes that he has just caught his mother in law's dress on fire. He completely freezes in shock and everyone seems to miss a strange man coming into the room, grabbing the cup of wine on the altar behind the couple and dumping it on the fire, putting an end to all the panic.

The attention turns to this strange man as he begins to speak. "It appears I'm a day early for the ceremony, my deepest apologies" He says as he takes Natalie's mother's hand and kisses it politely. Natalie's father raises a brow "Right, and who are you supposed to be again?" The man stands and looks to the other "Ah, forgive me. Lord Nyras. Jack Nyras, sir" He says, handing the man his hand to shake. Natalie's father takes it with a hint of suspicion and leans over to his wife to whisper. "Is he from your end of the family?" She thinks for a moment before responding "I don't recall!" Jack takes a seat in an empty seat and waves his hand "Please, do continue." The priest bangs his fist on the table and exclaims "Absolutely not! This wedding cannot take place until the boy learns his vows!" All attention is turned to Toby again as the priest continues "If not, I simply can't marry you. I don't want to see you again until you can recite them perfectly without a stammer in between, boy." At this point, everyone is looking at Toby angrily, even Natalie has a hint of disappointment in her eyes. He rushes for the door, he needs to go out for a walk and clear his mind if he wants any chance of being married tomorrow.

It is now late into the night and Toby has been wandering around the woods, trying to recite his vows perfectly. He comes to a clearing, where he pulls out the ring and ponders for a moment. Natalie looked so excited when he mentioned that he didn't mind her not really wanting to get married. If he can't pull it off, then she may get paired up with someone else who expects her to be "the perfect wife", cooking, cleaning and raising children. A miserable existence for her, he thinks. And with that, a sudden burst of inspiration bursts through him. He will recite his vows so perfectly, God himself will be shocked! Even if he and Natalie don't come to love each other, he may be the closest bet for freedom she gets. He looks around the clearing for a moment before finding a suitably shaped branch that looks just enough like a hand so he can practice. "With this hand, I shall lift your sorrows" He proclaims "Your cup shall never empty, for I shall be your wine" He snaps a twig off of a near by branch as a make shift candle "With this candle I shall light your way in darkness." He kneels down and slips the ring onto the hand shaped branch. "With this ring, I ask you to be mine."

Immediately he got a gut feeling. Something was wrong. Every instinct in him was telling him to get out of there as quickly as possible, and he understood why when the branch began to crackle and move, and gripped his arm. He let out a panicked scream and yanked his arm free, pulling the "branch" with it. As he tried to shake it off, a person was emerging from the ground. Their clothes were tattered and torn, but were clearly once white. Their skin had a green undertone to it, at least, what little skin they had left. As their face came into view all Toby heard was a whispered "I do." Toby's mouth fell open and he got to his feet and ran back for the town as he finally freed himself of the arm gripping onto him. Even though he was full on running and they seemed to only be walking, they seemed to always be only a step or two behind him. Finally as he got to the bridge, he turned to look where they were and, gone. They were no where to be found. As he was going to turn around to catch his breath, he was shocked to be met with the exact face he had been running from.

Their arms came to wrap around his neck as they whispered "You may now kiss" The last thing he remembers is the world seeming to swirl around him before fading to black.

[cactusisconfused]

I HAVE AN IDEA :O

Cw: homophobia (brief), fluff, not beta read, he die like Roach.

-

Soap has a stuffed rabbit when he was child, a gift from his mother.

Growing up, the stuffed rabbit was one of Soap’s favorite things in the world. He’d take it everywhere- the park, grocery shopping or even any outings that his family went on.

He had slept with it too, kept his nightmares at bay. But as he grew older he felt ridicules for having such ties with some inanimate object- at least that’s how everyone else felt.

“Don’t you think it’s time you’ve moved passed that stupid thing John? You’re growing up to be man, you got act like one.” His father had told him one night, as Johnny cradled his stuffed bunny in his arms. He was six at the time.

He still slept with it, but he hated the glances his father would give him. He hated hearing the conversations between his parents. How his mother would always say “John’s just a boy, let him grow up on his own.” His father would always just scoff and say that it would be her fault that he would have a gay son.

John didn’t really know what that meant at the time, but he was scared of disappointing his father, so he stopped.

He stopped carrying the stuffed bunny everywhere, stopped sleeping with it. And sure, maybe the nightmares became more prevalent, but he was being more of a man now, right? He was being what his father wanted, right?

Eventually, John found himself thinking less and less about the stuffed bunny, somewhere in his closet.

Life went on. He got through school, watched his older sisters go off to college and he himself into the military.

It wasn’t until a long while later, that Soap remembered the stuffed bunny once more. He had been part of the 141 for a little longer than a year, and dating ghost for five months.

They had a gap between missions, about a months worth of down time, something incredibly rare for their line of profession. This time off landed, in a dark ironic way, perfectly as Soaps father finally kicked the bucket.

Soap would be going back to Scotland for the funeral, and with the best puppy dog eyes Ghost could muster (a sight that will never get old given it’s coming from a walk of a man) Simon would tag along.

Soap was relatively quiet about his dad, but what he did speak about made him realize he really didn’t like the guy. Growing up, Soap tried not think about his father, about the disappointment that always seems to radiate off of him, how he was never good enough for his father. And you know what, yeah he is gay, so what?!

Soap showed up for the funeral and was filled with an almost sense of joy at how neither his sisters or his mother looked distraught over the ‘loss.’

Of course, Soaps mother was over joyed to see her son and be introduced to Simon, which was a fun scenario to watch Simon maneuver around in.

The night, despite the day of the funeral, was cheerfully fun. Soaps mother made a wonderful meal, that screamed nostalgia for Soaps, and his sisters who shared every single embarrassing story about Soap’s youth to Simon.

By the time they all felt their energies zapped from them, they retired for the night. For the first time in years, Soap stepped into his childhood room. The posters are still the same, along with the bedding and the books on his bookshelf.

“Never knew you played football.” Simon says softly, his eyes carefully looking over the few medals Soap has acquired from his school years.

“Aye.” Soap started, moving their luggage into his closet to make more space.

“Was a goalie. Coach didnae lemme’ play offense, said I was ‘too rough. Wasnae all bad though, I actually-…” Soap had started with a light tone the memories flooding back to him. He hadn’t meant to create a lull in his words, and really only realized he did when Ghost called his name, now behind him.

“Johnny?”

“Ahm fine, sorry I just…” At this point Simon’s eyes drift to where Johnny’s are looking- at a worn, slightly dust covered stuffed bunny.

Soap felt like he was a kid again as he saw it. Felt that same happiness, but felt that same tension. If he picked it back up, would he still be good enough. He knows his father was a dick, but it’s hard to erase the words from his mind.

What catches Soap out of his thoughts, is when ghost carefully picks up the stuffed bunny, so gently he might as well be holding a new born baby.

Soap ready’s himself for some comment making fun of him for having a stuffed animal, but instead he’s met with Simon’s soft look. Of course Simon would never say anything like that to him, now that he thought about it.

If Soap ends up taking the stuffed bunny back with him, his mother says nothing but gives a knowing smile.

And if and when Johnny and Simon retire Johnny sleeps with the bunny hugged between the two men, that’s for him and his husband to know.

-

Lmao this was actually so wholesome. I also typed all of this out on my phone and I’m tired so please ignore typos, I’ll fix those in the morning.

[dovesdreaming]

Silent longing

(Close to you)

Summary: inspired by the song close to you by Gracie abrams. Hazel is your best friend and you long for her in silence until tonight.

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: none

-

Hazel Callahan always had this magnetic energy about her. To the outside world, she was the master planner, the one who always knew what to say to get everyone on board with her wild ideas. But to you, she was so much more than that. She was your best friend, the person who understood you without needing any words at all. And maybe that’s why it hurt so much to be this close and yet feel so far away. Tonight was no different. The two of you were sitting on Hazel’s bed, half heartedly flipping through an old yearbook she had pulled from the depths of her closet. A playlist hummed softly in the background, the dim lighting making everything feel softer, more intimate. Hazel’s room was filled with little pieces of her, a collage of messy Polaroids on the wall, a half-finished painting leaning against the desk, and stacks of books she would probably never get around to reading. You loved it all. You loved her.

As you sat there, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Hazel, taking in the way her nose scrunched up when she found an embarrassing photo or how her laughter filled the room with warmth. You’d known Hazel forever, and in that time, your feelings for her had only grown, quietly and insistently. You tried to be content with what you had. Late-night hangouts, inside jokes, and moments like these that made your heart ache in the best way. But it was hard when every small touch, every lingering look, left you wanting more. Hazel nudged your shoulder playfully, her voice snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, you’re zoning out on me” she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Where’d you go?”. You forced a smile, trying to play it cool. “Nowhere, just thinking” you replied, hoping she wouldn’t press any further. Hazel set the yearbook aside, shifting closer until your knees were touching. She studied you, her expression softening into something that made your heart skip a beat. “You’ve been kind of quiet lately. Are you okay?”. You shrugged, struggling to find the right words. How could you explain that being around her was both the best and most painful thing in the world? That every time she smiled at you, it felt like both a promise and a reminder of what you couldn’t have?

“It’s nothing” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. But Hazel didn’t buy it. She never did. “Liar” she said gently, bumping her shoulder against yours. “Come on, you can talk to me. It’s me”. That was the problem, wasn’t it? It was Hazel. And you wanted to be close to her in a way that you were afraid to admit, even to yourself.

A familiar song started playing softly in the background and you swallowed hard, feeling the lyrics settle deep into your chest. Hazel didn’t notice at first, too busy watching you, but when she heard the familiar melody, she grinned.

‘You saw me look at you

I burn for you’

“I love this song” she said, her voice tinged with a quiet kind of nostalgia. “It’s one of those that makes you feel… everything, you know?”. You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. The words felt too close to home, almost as if they were written for moments like this, for all the things you wanted to say but couldn’t.

‘If you asked me to

I’d give up everything

To be close to you’

Hazel reached out, her fingers brushing against yours in a soft, tentative touch. It was nothing new, she was always tactile, always finding ways to connect but tonight, it felt different. More charged, you were burning for her touch. “You can talk to me” she repeated, her voice softer this time, almost pleading. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to keep it inside”.

‘I wanna be close to you

Break my heart and start a fire

You got me overnight

Just let me be..’

The dam broke before you could stop it. “It’s you, Hazel” you blurted out, your voice cracking. “I’m always thinking about you”. Hazel’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. For a moment, you thought you’d ruined everything, that you’d crossed a line you couldn’t uncross. But then she smiled a slow, understanding smile that sent warmth flooding through you. “Is that so bad?” Hazel asked, her tone light but her eyes searching yours deeply. “Thinking about me?”. “It is when I want more than just thinking” you confessed, feeling your cheeks burn. “When I’m sitting here wishing I could just… be close to you in a way that matters”.

Hazel was quiet, and you braced yourself for rejection. But then she leaned in, closing the distance between you with a gentleness that made your heart feel like it was going to burst. She rested her forehead against yours, her breath mingling with yours in the small space between. “You already matter to me” Hazel whispered, her voice barely audible but so full of sincerity that it made your head spin. “More than you know”. Before you could say anything, Hazel’s lips were on yours. Soft, hesitant, but so full of all the things you’d been too afraid to hope for. It wasn’t perfect or practiced, but it was real, and it was Hazel. She pulled away just enough to look at you, her hand still cupping your cheek. “Being close to you… it’s all I’ve ever wanted” she admitted, her thumb brushing against your skin. “So if you’re thinking about me, just know I’m thinking about you, too. All the time”. You smiled, a genuine, unguarded smile that you hadn’t felt in a long time. With Hazel, you felt safe like maybe, just maybe, being close to her was exactly where you were meant to be.

-

Thank you for reading!!

[tinykittendelusion]

Seventeen as different tropes

a/n : I've gotten into a book slump again so i thought might as well try something that's going to make me want to read more :)

triggers: mentions of sex or sexual content or indicates sexual behaviour

Scoups

Workplace romance especially billionaire ceo romance where he falls in love with this girl from a small town almost like a typical hallmark movie. he gives very CEO vibes especially like business proposal kang tae moo he loves showering you with love and lots and lots of gifts.

Jeonghan

Opposites attract. I think it would be so cool if jeonghan falls for someone his exact opposite who looks like a troublemaker but is actually very innocent. It would be hilarious when at first she gets blamed for a prank he pulled making him apologise with lots and lots of kisses. Also she'd be the only person with whom he won't cheat while playing games?!

Joshua

good boy x bad girl. This is the reverse of the bad boy trope and that suits him so much Joshua is a very good gentlemanly guy until he isn't and then he's this crazy person and he'd naturally be drawn to people who take risks.

Jun

childhood friends to lovers. Honestly after watching exclusive fairytale I feel this is exactly his vibe he's a shy guy so he takes time getting comfortable and since you've known him since childhood he's the most comfortable with you. The comfort of knowing someone through all their stages of life and falling for them.

Hoshi

Enemies to lovers. Hoshi is a sweetheart that everyone knows but he's amazing at teasing people aka seungkwan in gose episodes so him having an enemies to lovers relationship makes so much sense to me. Also hoshi getting angry/pissed would be HOT.

Wonwoo

Aloof couple. Everyone except the both of you know that you both are dating. Together you both are dumb and dumber. After Hoshi accidentally ends up spilling the fact that wonwoo has a crush on you You guys would finally start dating. Both of you would be so shocked to know that the other person actually liked them too.

Woozi

Fated soulmates. Now listen to me woozi is a homebody just like me and sometimes I wish the love of my life would just come to my house and announce his existence. This is exactly what happens when you go to deliver fried chicken completely drenched in the rain and he offers you to stay and dry off before leaving.

Dokyeom

brothers bestfriend. He's your brother's friend so he should be off limits to you but he's so kind so nice and so caring you can't help but fall in love. He doesn't notice you until one day you drunk confess and then suddenly you're all that he can think about.

a/n: very much like the male lead in hidden love (c-drama)

Mingyu

reverse grumpy x sunshine. Oh he falls for the slightly broody introverted nerd. They literally collided into each other when Wonwoo dragged him to this one book convention. He was jealous of how close Wonwoo and you were. Which led to him confessing and you both dating. He absolutely adores the fact that your cute silly side is reserved only for him.

Minghao

hopeless romantic x skeptic Minghao was that person who did not believe in love at first sight cause how do you fall in love without knowing anyone that is until you walked into his life and caused him to fall literally for you. You loved this fact as you were a big romantic person. You'd often watch rom coms together and have discussions on the characters for hours.

Seungkwan

Academic rivals. YES YES YES

the banter would be off the charts. He'd be full on sassy boo who loves winning and y/n would be the same. They'd fight argue and insult each other but would be forced into spending time together and boom he's pinned you to the wall.

Vernon

Second chance. Yes the angst the pain the hurt the NOSTALGIA. everything vernon runs into you in seoul one day and it's decided that he wants you back bonus points if you have a child that he babysits and that child comes to adore him.

a/n: i think I have to cry vernon with kids would be so funny and cute and I WILL CRY

Dino

a/n: i absolutely adore these I lowkey might make all of these into longer fics.

best friends turned enemies turned lovers. the chemistry would be fire you'd both participate in a dance competition as kids but at the last moment you ditched him to dance with your crush years later you both hate each other and it gets worse when you are one of the background dancers in seventeen's world tour.

i made a longer version for dino- here