#and then my best friend said the words ''youre like her gay best friend'' and it all clicked akjdsjksd

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

what would megumi’s life have been if he was actually raised by the zenin from day one? like either gojo lost the custody battle or they were able to scoop him up before gojo ever reached them. i doubt they would want to keep tsumiki with them so she’s not there for little baby megs.

i think it would be really cool to see a zenin raised megumi interacting with his fellow classmates when he attends the school, not to mention the contrast between him and gojo. like on paper they both should have gotten the same treatment-being pampered and spoiled rotten but we also know that the zenin think that hurting little kids makes them stronger so it would be super interesting to see megumi realise that the stuff that happened to him wasn’t normal and for gojo to have a guilt trip bc he wasn’t able to help megumi when he needed someone to help him the most.

So I have a fanfic that I’ve half written (no idea if I’ll ever finish it—I’d love to, it’s just hard to find the time) about EXACTLY THAT that I talked about in this post for an ask game.

That being said, that entire thing happens from Tsumiki’s perspective, and I agree with you—I don’t think the Zenin would have ever actually taken her too. They don’t want her. She’s not Zenin. She’s not a sorcerer. They only bought Megumi. For the most part, Megumi is absent from that post, and you asked about Megumi. So this is what I think would happen on Megumi's side of that post I linked.

It comes down to two things:

1. He is never, ever happy with the Zenin.

2. He never lets go of his sister.

Megumi’s old enough to remember Tsumiki when the Zenin take him away. He's old enough to love her. And I think that Megumi loves very quietly, but he also loves very violently. He wouldn't let his sister hold his hand on the walk to school, but he would sacrifice himself for her future.

I think the Zenin took him from his sister, and I think he kicked and screamed and wasn't strong enough. I think they thought he would forget her eventually.

And then I think he bit most of the Zenin Clan.

At the end of the day, what Megumi wanted was the one thing the Zenin were not willing to give him. They were never like the Gojo clan, they were never going to pamper him, but there are a great many things in this world that they would give the Ten Shadows finally returned to them. But they would not give him a non-sorcerer, non-Zenin sister who would only be a weakness to him. They refused to let him have any contact with his sister, and that was the source of a lot of what soured.

Any Megumi that was taken in by the Zenin would have been taken in to Naobito's household directly. He would be announced as the one who finally inherited their most cherished technique, and he would be declared heir, and the Zenin would call him beloved for it.

They would keep him in a room that was large and empty and almost always dark, and he wouldn't be allowed to decide when he slept or woke, and the door would always be locked from the outside. They would give him a wardrobe of expensive clothes that he hated, and he would never get to pick which of them he wore.

Megumi would hate them. He would hate all of them.

He's just not the type to be comfortable with or enjoy the adoration of others--especially when it's not backed up by genuine love. Megumi is someone who very much values sincerity and depth to emotion--it's one of the reasons why he seems to respect Yuuji so much. Yuuji is a good person who follows through with what he says. He's not just going to talk about wanting to save people--he's there making the sacrifices as he does it.

The Zenin do not actually love him. And he knows it. He's experienced love before, and this isn't it.

They love the idea of him. The fantasy of him that lives in their heads. He has no interest in being their little god prince to contend with the Gojo's own. He knows who he is, and it's not this. He wants to go home. He wants to find his sister again. He doesn't want to do this anymore.

And I think that's a feeling Megumi never escape: he just didn't want to do this anymore.

Megumi would feel like a bug pinned beneath glass in the Zenin compound. He would constantly have people managing him--when he ate, what he ate, what he wore, when he slept, when he woke, when he trained, what he did. Having to become a jujutsu sorcerer signified an inherent loss of control, but it's nothing compared to the sheer objectification that he goes through when the Zenin have exclusive control over him.

He has no power of what clothes he wears. How his hair is styled. His schedule, his diet, the people he speaks too--he's suffocating and the Zenin are just increasing pressure on him.

I don't think Gojo ever thought that would be Megumi's life.

We’re gonna just have this imagining exist in the same world as the Tsumiki centric fic described in the linked post, and in that, the reason why Gojo never took him in was because he didn’t know Megumi had a sister. He showed up, saw the divine dogs, realized Megumi had the Ten Shadows, and decided he couldn’t do this. He was a mess. He was grieving Suguru and Haibara. Megumi looked just like the man who killed Riko, and apparently inherited the fucking Ten Shadows of all the goddamn things. The Zenin would lose their shit, and Gojo didn’t have the energy to fight and told himself he didn’t need to, because if Megumi was the Ten Shadows he’d be cared for like a prince with the Zenin. He turned around and left and spent the rest of his life with Megumi in the back of his mind, always nagging him with whether he made the right decision. It wasn’t until Maki got there and made a few worrisome references to Megumi's standard of living that he started to really worry that he had made the wrong one, and it wasn't until he found out about Tsumiki that he knew it was the wrong decision.

It's like this: The Zenin hurt Megumi in every world.

It would be bad no matter what, but it really gets bad because Megumi refuses to stop trying to get back to Tsumiki. She's his sister. They didn't have anyone or anything in this world, but they had each other, and he couldn't let these people just take her away. He’s feral about it. He refuses to fit the mold they keep trying to cram him in. He’s trying to scale the walls to escape. He’s increasingly desperate and angry and the Zenin are getting more and more frustrated the longer he fights them. He’s the heir to the clan, and he can’t stop trying to leave it to get back to some random girl who isn’t his real sister and isn’t someone they’ll ever allow him to have.

It gets bad.

They put him under increasingly strict levels of control. He’s constantly being trained, which means he's constantly being hurt. He’s not allowed to speak to anyone without the clan head’s approval. He is under absolutely constant guard after he manages to get over the wall and halfway to his old neighborhood before they catch him again. Tsumiki’s name is not allowed to be said aloud, or his old name. He forgets his name used to be Fushiguro, but he doesn’t forget Tsumiki. He doesn’t let himself.

I think it escalates until it hits a breaking point. Megumi becomes increasingly self-destructive and non-responsive to everything they try. They push him to extremes that start risking permanent damage.

I think Megumi would try to hurt himself, eventually.

He wouldn't be in his right mind. He's in the most shit situation possible. He's undergoing pretty severe abuse. He'd be at the end of his rope from the lack of control over his own life, and he'd be spiteful as hell towards the Zenin. And the only thing he has to hurt them with is himself.

As a character, Megumi has always considered his own sacrifice as an acceptable means to the end of getting back at someone. Mahoraga, intrinsically, requires him killing himself as a way of killing someone else. He'd hurt himself if it was the only way he had of hurting them.

Naobito would cover it up. He'd never, ever want the rest of the clan to find out that it happened. It was already bad enough that Megumi openly hated them--he couldn't have the Zenin seeing any vulnerability in what was meant to be their most powerful member. He'd put Megumi in total lockdown until he could make it all go away.

Then they'd make a deal.

A binding vow. Megumi could never purposefully hurt himself again. He could never again try to leverage his own safety against the clan.

And in exchange, Tsumiki would be taken care of.

The last time Megumi saw his sister, she was on a sinking ship. They were running out of food, money, options--he doesn't know if she even has food anymore. He doesn't know if she lost the apartment or if there's still running water.

They're not letting him see her. But they are letting him take care of her. He can sacrifice another piece of control over himself, and she'll never have to worry about money again. They'll pay for her housing, her food, her education, for her every desire for as long as she lives. The trust the Zenin set up for her will be a generous one, and it will be managed meticulously by a trustee who can make sure she'll be provided for until she's old and grey. And Naobito will vow to never hurt her or send someone else to hurt her. She'll be safe. She'll be taken care of.

Megumi makes the deal.

In the end, the deal's what sort of breaks him.

Because he doesn't promise to stop looking for her, but the Zenin manage to make it a part of the terms anyway. When they approach Tsumiki's mother with the offer to be her family's beneficiary, they include a requirement that Tsumiki be moved to another city entirely with no forwarding address given. She needs to be somewhere that Megumi can never find her again.

The Zenin keep the old apartment. They pay the rent every month. And the next time Megumi manages to make it off compound, they let him make it all the way there before dragging him home. They let him see the empty apartment with all its empty rooms.

Naobito wants him to know that Tsumiki's gone. He wants him to know that he'll never find her again.

He tries to run a few more times after that, but he never makes it very far. He doesn't have anywhere to go.

In the linked post, Megumi finds Tsumiki, just once. She's on a class trip. He's on one of his very few and far between allowed excursions off the compound grounds, and he sees her in the crowd and recognizes her, and he ducks away from his escort before anyone can stop him.

She remembers him. He didn't think she would do that.

She tries to save him. He didn't think she would do that either.

She still loves him. And he was always too afraid to hope she would do that.

It goes the same way it did the first time. There's a car, and the Zenin shove him in it. She's on the outside, and he's trapped within, and he wishes she didn't scream so loudly when it happens. The sound never seems to leave his dreams.

His sister still loves him. Naoya hits him in the back of the head. He wakes up, and it was like she was never there at all.

But they hit him harder, after. Like they're trying to beat the memory of her out of him. He has even less freedom, when he already had next to none at all.

But he still has a sister. He has a place to go that isn't here. He just has to figure out where that is.

He wouldn't really have anyone in the Zenin clan. Most people are just... weird about him. Naoya's violently abusive. Naobito's weird and violently abusive. Everyone wants him to be someone he's not.

Maki would be his favorite.

He doesn't care about whether she's got cursed energy--his sister didn't have any. And she's obviously strong. She doesn't treat him like a divine blessing or try to force him to act a certain way. I think they would have genuinely liked each other, but kept each other at a distance. They're both trapped in an abusive situation and keep themselves safe by keeping everyone else at arm's length.

He would have been happy to see her get out, though. He would have told her that she could have his spot as heir or head or whatever when she came back if she wanted it. She would have told him that if he ever got out... well, fuck it. They could be something then. Family. Whatever the fuck they weren't allowed to be here.

She would have told him she's sorry, and she would have meant it. The only one she she regretted more than Megumi was Maki. He would have told her not to be, that if she dared to be sorry for getting out that he would never forgive her, and he would have meant that too.

I think his relationship with his own techinque would be very different in a world where the Zenin raised him. In canon, his issue is that he doesn't view himself as someone who could be powerful or win in the long run, but in this world, all he ever hears is how powerful he is. Pride of the fucking Zenin. The most powerful of them in centuries. Meant to rival Gojo fucking Satoru himself.

I think his real issue would be controlling it.

His technique would be a source of negative associations for him. It's the reason why the Zenin took him away. Most of his interactions with it have involved getting beaten and hurt by either his family or a high-level curse they shoved him in front of. I think he'd have a lot more firepower under his belt than at the start of canon, but he'd have less of a fine tuned control over it.

He lost control over his own life because of his shadows. It think that would manifest in struggling to control his own shikigami at times. he's not as in-sync with them as he is in canon.

Eventually, he'd go to Jujutsu High. He would be the only one in the first year class at the beginning, just like in canon. And he'd finally meet Gojo Satoru, the man he's supposed to topple.

He looks at Megumi really goddamn weird.

He's... enthusiastic. About. Teaching. He guesses. And constantly asking prying questions about the Zenin, but not in the sort of way he'd expect from a rival. In the sort of way he'd expect from someone concerned about him. Which is stupid. And annoying. And weird. He keeps a distance from everyone. They've all heard about the Zenin clan heir, and he has no interest in having to fit or break whatever mold they've already cast him in. He's better off on his own.

Maki's there. She's cordial where other people can see it, and in private, she takes care of him in a way that's terrifyingly close to familial. He's not sure if he likes it. He's not Mai, and she's not Tsumiki, and they both want someone they can't have.

She isn't sorry she left. She is sorry she left him. He can hate her for it all he goddamn pleases.

Of course, if this is in the same world as the linked post, Megumi finds Tsumiki again. He finds her in Sendai.

He gets to keep her, this time.

Gojo Satoru, of all the goddamn people, intervenes and becomes his sister's benefactor. It's super fucking weird. He won't stop looking at Megumi strangely. He won't stop insisting that he didn't know he had a sister, like that matters.

That would sort of be the first time in a long time that life actually gets better for Megumi.

I think he would ask to go by Fushiguro again, once he asks Tsumiki what his name used to be. He'd ask her if she minded it, him taking the name again, and he'd ask the rest of the school to call him Fushiguro instead of Zenin.

Predictably enough, Naobito loses his shit when he finds out, but it's not nearly as big of a pain in the ass as he thinks it is? Because Gojo intervenes.

Gojo keeps intervening.

It drives Megumi nuts, because if anyone was supposed to hate him, it was this guy. If anyone was supposed to be against him, it was this guy. This is the guy he was supposed to rival. This is the guy who killed his shitheel bio dad.

Gojo's just... good to him. He keeps him safe. He keeps him safe from his own goddamn family, and that's--no one's ever done that. No one's ever protected him from the Zenin.

The Zenin try to remove him from the Tokyo campus and move him to Kyoto the second they find out Tsumiki's there, and Gojo just... says no. It causes an uproar, and he doesn't fucking budge. It's treading dangerously close to him kidnapping the Zenin clan heir, his refusal to let them remove him from the Tokyo campus, and he doesn't care about whatever problems it causes him.

Megumi's his student. He doesn't want to leave. So Gojo won't let them take him.

He personally goes to Kyoto and collects him, the one time the Zenin force him into a car and move him when Gojo's off on a mission. He tells the higher ups to get fucked. He changes Megumi's student I.D. to read Fushiguro, and he causes problems for Yaga and the assistants until they start calling him Fushiguro as well.

Megumi's different with the other students once his sister is there.

He's more connected with them. He becomes best friends with Kugisaki and Itadori. He gets closer with the second years. He's visibly happier, and it sort of casts in sharp contrast how unhappy he was before this.

And Gojo? Gojo's so goddamn sorry. He didn't know megumi had a sister.

The thing is that now that both Tsumiki and Megumi are on campus, it sort of haunts Gojo with what could have been. They're both fantastic kids--funny, smart, resourceful. And it's painful watching them try to rebuild what was taken from them. And it could have just. never happened. Because he could have saved them both. He could have been their family.

It's sort of painfully obvious the Zenin abused Megumi, and it fucking haunts him. He doesn't even have to read into Megumi's behavior--he sees it happen, right in front of him, with how they try to control him and push him around. He wants to kill them for it. He wants to hate himself for it. He could have saved Megumi and he just. He didn't.

He wishes he did.

#jjk #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro tsumiki #gojo satoru #zenin clan #zenin maki #also featuring in this au: itadori absolutely torn because his best friend's long lost brother is extremely pretty and he HAS to be in #violation of some kind of bro code. the boy is in crisis. there he is. enrolled in fucking wizard school. his best friend tsumiki finally #found her long lost brother. said long lost brother proceeds to give him his gay awakening. he's fucking sweating. kugisaki stop laughing #gojos latent desire for fatherhood has been violently awakened in this and no one is safe. he's everyone's dad now. no one wants this. #yuuta in africa: sensei it's three am why are you calling is everyone oka--what do you mean what color do I want you to paint my room. what #room. what are you talking about. #yuuta keeps getting the weirdest goddamn updates from japan and he thinks he's having a stroke. what do you mean zenin-kun is fushiguro-kun #and he has a fucking long lost sister and gojos possibly going to gently kidnap him. is it kidnapping if he wants it too but the people who #has custody of him doesn't. what do you mean he needs to come back and help maki kill her entire family. maki explain your words explain #yes word of god megumi is also yuutas boy in this one i decide this for no other reasons than i want this #it's not the same way as in sea glass gardens. Maki just said some worrying things when yuuta first met him and he decided to keep an eye #out for him. he didn't seem all that happy. and he seemed alone. yuuta didn't want him to be. #megumi's sort of blindsided because he went from being raised in a clan where he was barely a person to having a bunch of medically insane #people decide that his wellbeing was their personal crusade. like. no one ever cared about /him/ before this. they just wanted their idea #but not who he really was. he felt like he was screaming and no one could hear it. then suddenly these people he barely knows are like #okay so we're going to punch your shitty bio uncle and also set his car on fire. yes we will call you by the name that makes you most #comfortable. yes we will help you get a new wardrobe full of clothes you're actually comfortable in. #he hadn't heard his own name in years. he's just been the ten shadows. never fushiguro. only rarely megumi. #everyone calls him fushgiuro at the school. his sister calls him megumi. he sort of wants to cry about it but he doesn't. #his shitty uncle shows up and makes a big stink about him being called zenin and inumaki and panda keyed his car. is this what love is. #is it a keyed car. #Low key he does NOT know what's going to happen the first time the school goes on break because gojo keeps making comments about how #megumi's not going back to the zenin compound and he says it like a joke but. he may not be joking. is he not joking. is. is megumi being #kidnapped. again. this is getting statistically improbable. did gojo just. decide. to keep him. when did that happen.

[yanaromanov]

in unholy denial

･ ｡ﾟ*. 18+, minors DNI . * ｡ﾟ･

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: you’re the perfect all-american girl; a good student, a weekly churchgoer, you’re even dating the high school quarter back. so it’s all a big shock to you when your family decides to send you to a conversion camp, claiming they believe you’re a lesbian. you don’t agree with their accusation, telling everyone that you don’t like girls at all. but then you meet your camp mate wanda maximoff, who seems determined to sway your mind in another direction…

warning(s): conversion therapy, homophobia (externalised and internalised), religious mentions (christianity), smut, fingering, thigh riding, loss of virginity, hickeys, slight dubcon (only kissing), swearing, pet names (princess, honey), wanda and r are in high school but of age (over 18), cheating (r has a bf), slightly innocent reader, nude magazine, etc. minors dni

author’s note: this is my first time writing and uploading smut so i really hope it’s not terrible 🙏🏻this is heavily inspired by ‘but i’m a cheerleader’, only this time it’s with teenage wanda and much more smutty :) i also took light inspiration from @imaginedanvrs and her fic ‘atonement’, and though i did take a different turn, check it out because all of their writing is amazing :))

wc: 11.7K words

The car is quite on the ride up. You stare out the window, watching as your world begins to disappear. The camp is just under two hours away from your home town; far away enough that it feels like a whole different world, but close enough that your parents can still come visit on the weekends.

You’re not being punished. At least that’s what your parents have told you. They just want what’s best for you, want to help you find the right journey in life. Apparently this camp was supposed to do that for you. Though, you could quite see how - the apparent problem they claim to be able to fix, not identifiable to any part of your mind.

When they’d first brought up the idea, you’d been quick to confusion. A conversion therapy camp? But you weren’t gay. You had a boyfriend, the football team’s best quarterback at that, and you two were very happy together. He was handsome and kind, and you loved him. Except for maybe when he tried to kiss you, always left feeling grossed out by the encounter as his tongue tried to play with yours. But he must just be a bad kisser. That was at least what you always told yourself…

Aside from that, there were so many things that couldn’t have possibly lead your parents to believe you were gay. You were one of the top students at school, always getting the highest grades. Every Sunday you attended church, said your nightly prayers each evening before you slept. You were in the church choir, for goodness sake!

Still, your parents had sat you down in the living room one night and had a very serious conversation with you. They were concerned mostly, worried that something sinister had crept in and was tainting your life. You’d used all of your excuses in protest but they’d came prepared with their own.

A few posters from your room, filled with woman in bikini tops. You liked the patterns. Songs from your playlist that held ulterior meaning. You just liked the way they sound. The fact you hated kissing your boyfriend; a few comments you’d made to your friends about other girls at church. You thought everyone felt that way…

In the end, they’d convinced you to come along to the program, claiming it was in your best interest to attend and get the help you need. Although you didn’t believe you needed any help at all, you had agreed. If this camp was going to help them feel better, you were willing to give it a go, even if it meant getting treatment for a nonexistent problem…

Still, your heart aches a little as your small family car drives away from the suburbs you are used to, the view soon replaced by dense forest trees and vibrant undergrowth. The program was set out almost like a Summer camp, out near a lake where members could swim during their free time. That was one of the activities you’d read in the pamphlet your parents had handed you, the camp explained in its entirety alongside its promise to guarantee positive results. You’d initially asked your parents how long you would have to spend there, worried about being forced to remain when there wasn’t a problem with you to begin with, but your mom had simply smiled back softly and replied, ‘let’s just see how you get on’.

You’re almost lost in thought when the car finally turns on to the last stretch of its journey. The sight ahead of you drags you back to the present moment, eyes now searching the wide opening in the trees as the camp comes into view. It’s easy to spot, the only buildings around for a long while, and the white shutters standing out vibrantly against the green trees. The lake comes into view too, shimmering in the morning summer sun.

Soon the car slows, coming to a halt outside what looks to be the main building, its size large compared to the other’s dotted around. The ranch-style house is painted a soft blue, the fixtures and wrap-around porch shining dazzling white. All in all, it looks rather beautiful.

Your parents are the first out the car, looking around as they close the doors. You follow a moment later, eyes drifting over your surroundings as you inhale the sweet smells of the forest air. A pair of footsteps soon diverts your attention, your gaze falling to a tall blonde man making his way in your direction from the large blue house. He’s dressed very similarly to the men you see at church; a pair of neat navy slacks and a matching blue and white gingham shirt. You and your parents come to stand together on one side of the car just as he reaches your feet.

“Good morning,” the blonde says, his grin reaching from ear to ear. “Mr and Mrs Y/L/N, isn’t it?” There’s an exchange of hand shakes as your parents confirm his assumption. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. And you must be young Y/N.” His gaze falls to you as he speaks, a hand outstretching in your direction.

You take it, shaking it gently as you nod your head. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

The blonde lets out a low chuckle as he releases your hand, his attention turning back to your parents. “What a polite little girl you have,” he says, his smile widening. Your parents seem to take pride in his compliment, inching closer together as they stand and look over at you. “But please,” the man continues, turning back to you. “My name is reverend Steve so you can call me as such. Or just Steve if you prefer.” He smiles again as he shrugs his shoulders. “Sir always feels a bit too formal.”

There’s a trade of small laughter between the adults but you don’t find yourself joining in, still feeling a little apprehensive about this whole scenario.

“I do hope your journey here was alright.”

“Oh, just fine,” your father replies in response to reverend Steve’s question, smiling easily back at him.

“Good. I’m so glad to hear that. We’re just so happy to have Y/N here. And don’t worry, your daughter is in very good hands.”

Just at that moment, you notice another figure approaching your group, a woman, originating from the same place Steve had. When she reaches you, there’s a soft smile on her face, her red hair dazzling in the Summer sun. The reverend reaches one of his arms out, bringing the woman close to his side as his hand rests on her hip. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Natasha. She helps direct things around here, especially with the girls.”

Her hand also extends out to your parents to meet in a soft handshake as she smiles widely back at them. “Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” With your parents, reciprocating the sentiment, the redhead then turns her attention to you. Her eyes sparkle a bright shade of green as the morning sun hits them. “Hello, Y/N,”

You find yourself momentarily stumbling over your words, something about the woman distracting you until she speaks. “Good morning,” you manage eventually, smiling back nervously.

In the time you’ve greeted her, it seems your parents have retrieved your luggage from the back of the car. “These are your bags?” Reverend Steve asks, reaching to pick them up. In truth, you hadn’t even noticed them being moved there. “I’ll just take these up to your dorm room, Y/N.” He smiles once more at you before he turns, walking towards the house with your belongings in tow.

“I’ll give them a little check over once we get there,” Natasha says, drawing your attention back to her. She passes you a playful wink that causes a strange feeling in your chest. “But I’m sure there’s nothing in there that will get you in trouble, hm?”

“I don’t think-“ Your response is cut off by your sudden realisation you’re standing alone, your parents retreating back to the car and already starting the engine. “Wait I-“

“Don’t worry.” The redhead’s words yet again distract you, pulling your attention away from the vehicle behind you. “They’ll be back at the weekend to visit. You’ll be seeing them again in no time.” Natasha turns to stand side by side with you, her hand resting on your back as she gently begins to press you forwards. “Now how about you just come with me and I can show you around the place. How does that sound?”

“A-alright,” you stumble, giving one glance back to the car that has already pulled away from the camp. You let the woman by your side guide you as you watch it slowly move further and further away up the road, officially leaving you all alone.

The tour Natasha gives you, however, helps to lift your spirits a little. The camp grounds are rather beautiful, the grass vibrant and speckled with small colourful flowers. The buildings themselves are also very pleasant, all adding to the soft summer camp feel the area had. Natasha first directs you to the small bunker home her and Steve resided in, claiming members were not allowed inside but there was a small bell if you ever needed them at any time. Next, she shows you the church; a small yet grand building with dazzling stained glass windows. As you walk the pews, Natasha tells you how their service is held each morning, directed by Steve himself.

“I hear you’re in your church choir?” Natasha quips as you take in the way the light hits the windows, spreading bright colours across the floor of the building.

“Yes,” you reply, lifting your head and smiling sheepishly. “I have been since I was thirteen.”

“You’ll have to sing for us one time,” Natasha says playfully, before beckoning you out of the church and off to your next destination. On your way, she explains a little of how their program works; a mixture of group lessons and singular sessions to help you understand your problem. “Do you still attend bible study, Y/N?” Natasha asks as you approach the main building.

Shyly, you turn to face her. “No. I stopped a few years ago when I turned sixteen.”

The redhead clicks her tongue but overall doesn’t seem too disappointed, still smiling over you. “Don’t worry,” she replies. “I’m sure our study will set you just right again.” She passes you another wink before you step in through another door that she opens ahead of you.

The building has a wide front opening, a set of grand stairs set out ahead in the expanse of the tall ceilings. At the bottom of them, you suddenly notice a tall girl standing there. She’s wearing a neat uniform, her long black hair pulled back into two braids. “Y/N,” Natasha says, gesturing towards the girl. “I’d like you to meet Kate. She’ll be your mentor while you settle in.”

The raven-hair girl smiles at you as she extends a hand. You shake it, sharing a quick greeting before she hands you a welcome packet. Natasha explains how all of the rules are written inside, alongside a list of other expectations and your schedule for your stay. You hold on to it against your chest as the pair walk you around the house on your continued tour.

Inside of the main building, it feels somewhat like a mixture of a house and a school. There are two classrooms, both filled with a set of students learning from a tutor at the front of the class. A large dining hall was also set up, functioning like a school canteen. Downstairs there were a few recreational spaces with small couches arranged around card tables, all littered with various bible verse posters along the walls. As you move upstairs, Natasha shows you the bathrooms and the couple isolation rooms they had, though she assured you, you most likely wouldn’t be spending any time in there.

“Now, let’s get you some uniform, hm?” Natasha says, moving further down the corridor. She opens a long cupboard, filled with rows of pleated skirts and crisp white shirts. She looks through the rails before handing you a set of uniform in your size. Her and Kate then give you some privacy in the cupboard to change while they step outside.

The uniform is light blue, the skirt pleated through with lines of navy. The sweater vest is a matching dark blue, the logo of the camp embroidered onto one breast. You pull it on over the white button shirt, followed by the long white socks and black patent shoes Natasha had also provided. When you step out of the cupboard, the older woman takes hold of your old clothes, claiming she’ll take care of them for you until you’d be needing them again. You’re not entirely sure what she means but she’s continuing on with the tour once more before you can truly give it much thought.

“These are the girl’s dormitories,” the redhead says as she opens another door, guiding you inside. As you step in, you notice two rows of small cots, lined up with matching pink floral bedsheets. You notice one on the end, your bags sat atop waiting for you. But what catches your eye even more, is the brunette girl splayed across one of the middle beds, a magazine between her hands. She looks up as all three of you walk into the room, her green eyes meeting directly with you.

“Miss Maximoff,” Natasha says as soon as she notices the girl. “Aren’t you supposed to be in your lessons right now?”

The girl diverts her gaze to the camp director. “I didn’t feel well so I came to lie down.”

The way the girl lay across her stomach, face perfectly amused as her eyes flitted across her magazine didn’t exactly come across to you as unwell. It seems that Natasha too picks up on her lie, simply passing the brunette a small scowl. “Nice try.”

There’s a moment where the girl stares back, almost daring the women with her gaze, but she soon gives up, instead rolling her eyes as a long frustrated sigh escapes her lips. “Fine,” she mumbles, lifting herself up from the bed and slowly walking towards you. As she does, you notice how her shirt is unbuttoned further down and how her skirt is rolled at her waist, climbing the front of her thighs.

Natasha seems unfazed by her antics, simply holding out her hand which the brunnete places her magazine into with another sigh. The redhead gives it a once over before staring back at the girl. “This is contraband. Where did you find it?”

The brunette simple smirks in response. Her shoulders briefly brushes against yours as she squeezes her way through your group, headed towards the door. Before she leaves, she turns, walking gently backwards as the smirk widens on her face. “The Lord showed me the way to it.” She turns again quickly, disappearing from the dormitory alongside her lingering gaze.

Natasha doesn’t make any move to follow her, simply inclines her head as as she shouts down the corridor. “Roll down your skirt, Miss Maximoff!” Her voice still echoing, the redhead then turns back to you, that perfect smile returning almost as quickly as it at dropped. “I’m so sorry about that,” she says, glancing down at you. “Some of the other girls are a little…challenged in finding the light. Sometimes they can be a bad influence but I’m sure if you just stick with Kate, you’ll be just fine.”

You glance at the tall girl stood beside you, her soft grin looking back. “If you have any questions, feel free to ask Kate. Or of course, me or Steve at any point,” Natasha adds, drawing your attention back to her. You nod in response and she smiles back, placing a hand on to your shoulder. “Now, how about we take a look at your bags?”

———

Settling in isn’t as hard as you thought it might be. Kate is nice, you discover quickly, and helps you get unpacked. You tuck your things away into the drawers under your bed, then some more of your belongings in to the bedside table - next to the complementary bible you find tucked inside. Kate explains you can put up some photos with blue tac if you wish, pointing out to some of the other girls’ beds who have done the same. You borrow some of said blue tac from her as you stick a photo of your family alongside one of you and your boyfriend up on to the wall.

Afterwards, Kate sits with you while you look through your welcome packet. A lot of it relates to the pamphlet your parents had given you before your arrival, talking all about the camp and its methods of tackling what they phrase, ‘the misdirection of youths towards homosexuality’. The entire idea is still a little scattered in your head, but you brush it aside as you delve further into the rules and scheduling of the camp.

There are quite a few rules written down, a lot of which you recognise from your own home regulations. No curse words are to be used, nor any other inappropriate language. The Lord’s name must not be used in vain. Members must pray before each meal and every night before bed. Uniform must be worn at all times.

Then there are other rules that make you feel a little more uncertain. There is strictly NO fraternising between members. No member is permitted in the opposite dormitory to which they are assigned. Any inappropriate belongings will be confiscated.

The last rule makes you wonder back to the girl you’d seen sat inside the dormitory. There have been something ‘inappropriate’ about her magazine, obviously leading to the confiscation by Natasha. You weren’t quite sure what about it could be so bad, the name you’d glanced at briefly unrecognisable before Natasha had quickly stashed it away from your sight. If anything, the whole ordeal had only made you more curious about the strange girl and what exactly she had been reading.

As if the universe could hear your thoughts, it’s barely a few hours later when you collide with the girl once more. It’s lunch time, Kate and you just having sat down with your plates of food after she’d explained how they were set out each meal time. The dining room is filling up, all of the other camp members filing in to take their place at differing tables. It’s as your inspecting the meal in front of you that a very particular member sets herself down in front you.

“Hey, newbie.”

Your head raises from the table as you hear the voice, looking up to meet the same pair of green eyes that you recalled from earlier. The brunette stares back at you, a small smile playing at her lips as she watches your face. “Uh…hi?”

You don’t get to say much more before Kate is speaking up, leaning over the table with a scowl. “Get lost, Maximoff. We don’t want you to sit with us.”

The brunnete turns to look at the other girl, a frown of her own appearing between two perfect brows. “Loosen up, Bishop. I just wanted to say hello to our newest addition.” As she finishes, her eyes trail back to you, the scowl dropping away to that same smirking expression. For a moment it seems as if she looks you up and down, scanning over your uniform before studying your face again. “I’m Wanda,” she says eventually, voice light. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You smile back a little awkwardly, torn between your polite nature and the instructions you had received to avoid this exact girl sat opposite you. “Y/N,” you reply, letting your manners overtake the situation.

“Just go away, Wanda,” Kate butts in suddenly, her voice raised. “I’m her mentor, not you.”

The brunette screws up her face as she turns to the raven-haired girl, scoffing under her breath. “God Kate, you’re so fucking uptight.” She sighs loudly as she pushes herself up from the table. As she does, you notice how her skirt is still rolled at the waist. But you don’t settle on it too long, distracted as she begins to speak again. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” Wanda says, her voice playful once more. Her eyes train on you for just a moment as she backs away from the table, another girl soon taking her place.

“Just ignore her,” Kate grumbles over to you. She begins to list a string of complaints about the girl but doesn’t get far, soon interrupted by Reverend Steve calling for grace at the front of the room. You bow your head as he begins to pray, clasping your hands under your chin just as you did with every meal you ate at home. A chorus of ‘amens’ rings out as the prayer finishes, all heads lifting once more to begin eating their lunch. As you lift yours, your gaze briefly flashes across the room, catching across the way, a pair of green eyes staring back at you. Wanda sits smirking, but you don’t see much else, quickly finding yourself flustered and looking away, turning your concentration instead to the plate of food sat in front of you.

———

Natasha’s office is very nice. That’s your first thought when you enter through the door, guided by her hand on the base of your spine. There are a few wide windows on one wall, white shutters open to give a view of the lake just down a grassy hill. Her desk sits in one corner, a plush vibrant chair close by, then across the way, a small couch. There are shelves littered with both plants and framed pictures, most depicting some sort of bible verse.

You sit yourself down on the sofa while Natasha settles in her chair beside her desk, pulling out a notebook as she turns to face you. There’s an exchange of pleasantries as she explains exactly how these private sessions will go and how anything you say is entirely confidential. You nod, sitting rather folded in on yourself, uncertainty still coursing through your body.

“So Y/N,” Natasha says eventually, crossing her legs over the other. “To start off, why don’t you tell me a little bit about the first time you experienced homosexual tendencies.”

The request is one that leaves you stumbling a little. “Oh I- well…” You swallow, landing on the same response you’d had every time your parents had suggested the idea. “I’m not actually gay. Everyone just thinks that I am.”

Natasha’s face changes, taking on a soft but curious expression. “And why do you say that?”

“Well I’m not,” you reply. “I don’t- I don’t like girls. I have a boyfriend.”

That fact alone seemed enough to you for this whole endeavour to be needless. You didn’t like girls, couldn’t like them. You and your boyfriend had been going strong for over two years. He was handsome, funny, and you were sure you loved him. Even if you did feel slightly disgusted every time his lips touched yours…

“Listen Y/N,” Natasha says, her voice calm. “I know this whole experience can seem a little daunting but we’re here to help you, okay?” She smiles softly, the intention of her words feeling truthful. “But the first step of your journey needs to be your admittance to your problem.”

It isn’t that you don’t feel comfortable telling Natasha about your problem, in fact you actually feel a strange warmth in your stomach whenever she talks to you, but in your mind, there was no problem to begin with. “I’m not gay.”

Natasha sighs at your answer. She adjusts herself in her seat, her soft gaze looking back at you. “Think about it like this; homosexuality is like a disease. These thoughts weave their way into your mind, changing your behaviour.” The redhead raises a set of perfect brows. “But we can’t begin to heal if we don’t have a proper diagnosis. Can’t administer the right treatment if we can’t admit we’re ill, right?”

Her analogy isn’t lost on you, somewhat similar to something you’d heard your pastor say back at your home church. “Yeah…I guess that makes sense.”

“Now what you’re experiencing can be fixed,” Natasha continues. “I’ve seen it fixed many times before. You can heal Y/N, break away from this and find the light of our good lord.” With his name, Natasha glances up to the cross hanging on the wall beside you. Your eyes follow too. “Don’t you want that?”

You turn back to the woman, your voice sounding small. “Of course I do.”

Natasha smiles. “That’s good.” She rearranges herself again, adjusting to hold her notebook and pen better. “Now, could you maybe tell me first time you can remember ever having thoughts about other women?”

“I don’t-I haven’t,” you stumble. “I don’t think about them like that.”

Like that. It was a phrase you’d repeated like a mantra in your head. You didn’t want a girlfriend, you didn’t want a girl to kiss you. You thought about girls the same way everyone else did. Sure, sometimes your eyes would fall to their ass when they walked to the front of class, or perhaps you got a bit hot and bothered in the changing rooms before gym, maybe even your favourite movie scene was the one where all the girls would go to the beach and play in the water. But that was what everyone else thought too…right?

“Alright,” Natasha says, sighing again. “I can see you’re really struggling with this, but that’s okay. I’m here to help you.” She smiles. “How about we take a little look at your family history, hm? See if that can get things kickstarted for us?”

You spend the rest of your session talking about your family. Natasha asks about extended members, questioning about any problems there may be down your blood line. But as far as you know, it all comes up clean, your entire family the same good Christian folks you’ve always known them to be.

Finding nothing of interest, Natasha moves on to talk about your childhood. She asks about your time at school, how long you’d attended church, what sort of friends you had. It’s all scribbled down on the notebook in her hand as you list off answers, all the perfect idiom of what a good Christian girl should be.

By the end of your session, you’ve spoke about almost everything that’s led you up to where you are now. Natasha asks again about your feelings towards women, trying to compare the reasons your parents sent you here to real acts of homosexuality. But all in all, it’s no use. At the end of the hour, you’re still in denial, refusing any accusation of your alleged problem. Thankfully, Natasha doesn’t seem angry, still smiling softly as you leave her office. She send you away with an assignment to think about what could be your ‘root’, what she terms the initial source of your unholy thoughts, determined once you figure this out, it will begin your journey to sanctuary.

———

The next few days pass by without much excitement. You begin to settle into your lessons, listening as a few ex-members of the program give speeches of their experiences, or as Steve talks about how God can help give meaning to your life. There are group therapy sessions you attend, though mostly sit quietly through, but listen while others talk about their own experiences and thoughts. It’s in them you notice a certain person who seems to stare at you from across the room. You try to avoid making eye contact but it seems each time you glance over, Wanda’s stare is trained on you.

Following what Natasha had said when you first arrived, you tried to stick to Kate’s side as much as possible, avoiding the other girl who seemed to look at you more often than not. When you weren’t in lessons you could avoid her, instead hanging around with Kate and her friends in the recreational spaces, sometimes watching one of the approved DVDs that lay beneath the TV. At meals, your group sits together, always saying your prayers before eating your food. But it seems even there you can’t escape the strange brunette, always catching her stare from across the room. It’s only in bible study, on the day that marks a week since your arrival, that you actually get to speak to her again.

Kate was sick today. She’d caught a head cold, presumably from her parents who came to visit her at the weekend. You had also had a visit, your mother and father asking every possible question about your stay and how you were finding camp. The visit had went well, but now a few days later you were left with no mentor to guide you throughout your day. It isn’t too much of a worry in your mind though, the layout and scheduling of the camp already becoming a familiar routine to your body. But what you aren’t used to, is a certain strange individual sitting in the seat where your mentor usually sat.

You don’t notice it is Wanda at first. Feeling the body slide against yours on the bench, your first thought is perhaps that Kate has made a miraculous recovery. But when you turn to face the individual and are met with piercing green eyes, you are certainly even more surprised. “Um,” you fumble, looking back at the brunette as you try to stumble for words. “That’s Kate’s seat.”

Wanda raises a brow, her head spinning to look around the room before it returns to you. “I don’t see her.” She smirks. “Besides, no seating arrangements, right?”

Technically she is correct. There is nothing actually stopping her from sitting beside you apart from your slight aversion to interacting with her. You slide your body away a few inches to the right, shifting away from the touch Wanda had initiated as she sat down a little to close. The brunette seems to notice, glancing down at the gap now settled between you, but she doesn’t say anything about it, instead just looking up at you as she flashes a set of white teeth. “So Y/N,” she begins, rolling your name easily over her tongue. “Where are you from?”

“Not far,” you reply, still inclined to politeness even with your anxiety around the interaction. You elaborate further, telling her the name of your town just two hours north of the camp.

Wanda hums at your response then crosses her legs on the bench. You try not to notice the way her rolled skirt flashes a pair of smooth pale legs. “I’m from down south,” she says. “Further than you, though. About six hours. My parents only come to visit about once a month.”

You met her eye as you try to think of a response, but before you can, you’re being interrupted. Reverend Steve calls out at the front of the class, silencing everyone so that he can begin calling the register. As names echo out across the room, you and Wanda’s conversation dies, but the soft warmth emanating from her body close to yours, does not leave for the rest of the lesson.

Having quit bible study over three years ago, you were a little worried you wouldn’t be able to keep up, but as Kate had told you last week, some of these kids had never even been to church, so the pace was definitely slow enough for you to follow along. The story Steve told today was one you knew rather well actually, one of the most prominent ones you could recall from your early teens. Still, you pay the upmost attention throughout the entire time he talks, eyes trained on his figure at the front of the classroom. What makes that a little difficult however, is the girl sat right beside you.

Wanda is easily distracted you notice quickly, constantly fidgeting with the pen in her hand - your pen actually, borrowed by the brunette when she claimed she had forgotten her own. You sit a little in shock as she casually graffitis the open bible sat upon the desk in front of her, mindlessly drawing squiggles and random shapes into the margin. You try your best to ignore her antics but it’s a little hard when she accidentally tosses her pen across the desk, following a failed attempt to spin it around her fingers. It lands over on your side, just to the right of your own bible. You go to reach for it to hand back to her but it seems she’s already moving before you can even get the chance.

Her body lifts slightly from the bench, stretching out across the table with one arm for her lost pen. As she does, her chest is brought closer to your face. Your eyes fall on the black cross hanging around her neck, then suddenly dip lower, catching the area of her shirt where her buttons are undone further than they should be. There’s the briefest of moments where your eyes linger there, passing over the ever so slightly visible cleavage that swells on her chest, but it’s less than seconds later you’re darting away. Wanda eventually picks her pen back up, after what feels like an eternity, and pulls back in her chair. You glance momentarily over at her, then quickly return to the bible open in front of you, trying your best to follow along with the passage Steve reads aloud while ignoring the strange sensation that has settled in your lower stomach.

———

Camp isn’t quite the way you imagined it to be. Before you arrived, you thought it would be entirely awful, like a prison only with more…God. But for most of your experience, it just feels like you’re back in school. Although, now your lessons about maths or science are replaced by those about God and the way into his heart. Just over two weeks in, you’ve picked up the swing of things quite nicely, falling into an easy routine as you move through the services and lessons with ease. The one thing you just can’t quite seem to grasp is the understanding of why you’re here in the first place.

You’ve had three private sessions now with Natasha, each of them as feeble at finding a change as the last. You’re still not ready to admit your problem, as Natasha puts it, reluctant to find the issue within yourself. But as you’ve said since before you even came, it’s a simple fact you aren’t gay. Natasha seems determined in her ways to make you see something different.

She’s handed you a book, walking out from your last session. The title reads, ‘My Sexuality and Me: Finding the Root of Homosexual Tendencies’. You’re tasked with reading it before your next session in hopes it might finally help you understand your own thoughts. For now, however, it has to wait. Leaving your session, you go up to the dorm to drop it by your bed, taking just a moment before you have to head to your next organised activity.

The camp helps run on a set of scheduled chores that the members have to carry out. It’s on a rota, something Kate had shown you on your very first day, and changes each week. There’s everything from weed picking to cleaning dishes, all work that helps to keep the camp in shape for everyone staying there. Reverend Steve mentioned something about the work ethic helping everyone be grateful for what the lord had given them.

You have to go down to check the rota, forgetting what was scheduled for you this week. Most of the others are already dotted around the camp doing their chores, apparently your one-on-one session running over slightly and causing you to be a little late. You make your way down the stairs to the main room where the rota is located, pinned into a notice board on the wall. But as you turn the corner at the bottom of the stairs, you notice that you are in fact, not alone.

Wanda turns almost immediately when you round the corner. She’s stood up against the notice board, back resting upon the wall with one foot lifted against it. A smile appears on her face as you come into view, her teeth shining around the piece of pink bubblegum she chews. “Hey, princess.”

You try not to scoff at the name - an endearment the brunette had coined after seeing you one night writing in your diary about your boyfriend, claiming you were like a locked away princess longing for her prince to come save her. You’d rolled your eyes at her comment at the time, and had to deal with its return each time you’d bumped into her in the past week. Now, you try to ignore it as you walk past her and stare up at the notice board trying to find the chore schedule. However, Wanda is speaking again before you even get the chance to locate it.

“Looks like it’s you and me this week.” You glance over at her, watching as a pink bubble forms at her lips. You want to ignore her teasing, looking back to the board to locate where you would be stationed, but when your eyes fall upon the schedule, you realise she is right. Written on the notice board, right below the date of the beginning of the week is your and Wanda’s name, then below it; house duty.

You turn back to look at her, a pair of green eyes glinting your way. For a moment you think there’s some kind of mistake. After all, you had always been with Kate before. But then, not far away from yours is indeed Kate’s name written, not on house duty, but on pantry organisation.

Wanda smirks as she rolls the gum in her mouth, eyes fixated on you as she blows another bubble. When it pops, she finally speaks again. “You’ve never done house duty, have you?”

She’s right. You’re in unfamiliar territory and you don’t have your usual mentor to help guide you. “No,” you reply simply, gently shaking your head.

Wanda breathes out a laugh, throwing her head back slightly as she drops her leg from the wall. “Come on, princess,” she says teasingly, walking to close the gap between you. “I’ll guide you.”

Her hand is reaching for yours before you can protest against it. Soft skin slips into yours, gripping hold and quickly dragging you down the corridor. You stumble slightly, surprised by the whole encounter but Wanda doesn’t seemed fazed. She simply pulls you along the hall like a lost puppy. When your brain restarts from the initial shock, you look down at the way your fingers are grasped between hers. It’s a simple interaction at its core, an innocuous hand hold as she shows you the way to go. You’d done the same thing with your own friends back home many of times, but something about this one feels a little different. Something about the way her soft skin is warm against yours creates an odd fuzz in your head.

“Here we are,” Wanda announces, suddenly dropping your hand. You try not to think about the way it now feels cold as you watch her reach for a door handle. It opens to a cupboard, full of what looks like cleaning supplies. “We basically just dust everything,” the brunette continues, turning back to look at you. “Just dust and vacuum the floors in every room in the house. Oh- but not the bathroom, someone else will be doing those.”

You find yourself nodding, the task seeming simple enough. You’d dusted plenty of times at home, this couldn’t be any different.

Wanda lets out another laugh, seemingly at your immediate obedience to follow through with your task. “Alright, princess,” she says, cracking her gum. She reaches in to the cupboard, picking up a cloth and a bottle of disinfect spray. “I’ll do upstairs, you do downstairs?”

There isn’t much room for objection even if you had any, Wanda already beginning to walk away with the cloth thrown over one of her shoulders. You reach down to grab similar materials, standing back up to watch her figure moving down the corridor. “Stop calling me that!” You call out, but the girl is gone before your sentence is even finished, the protest seemingly falling on deaf ears. A sigh escapes your lips as you close the cupboard door, determined to just ignore the other girl while you begin your designated chore.

You start with the class rooms, wiping each desk with the spray and then dusting the other surrounding surfaces. You quickly find nothing was too dirty, the uphold from the other members ensuring the work wasn’t too difficult. You move next to the dining hall, then the recreational spaces, your cloth picking up any small specks of dust that have come to rest on the furniture and surfaces. When you’ve wiped down each room, you return to the cupboard for the vacuum you’d spied earlier. It’s older than the one you have at home but easy enough to work, quickly making light work of vacuuming the entire bottom floor.

It’s probably half an hour later when you finish, at least that’s the guess you make without a watch. You tidy away the cleaning supplies back into the cupboard before doing a quick inspection of everything to make sure you haven’t missed anything. Satisfied everything is clean, you turn your attention to your missing task partner. You haven’t seen Wanda once, barely even heard her moving upstairs. So, devoid of what else to do, you decide to head up to check if she needed any help.

You check a few rooms before you find her, the closest spaces absent of her presence. It’s only when you open the door to the girls dormitory that you finally see her. Except, she’s not cleaning like you expected her to be, in fact the cloth is entirely disregarded on the bedside table. Instead, Wanda sits with her back against the headrest of her bed, legs crossed over the top of her floral sheets and a magazine sat across her lap.

The door almost slams behind you as you catch eye of her, shock and repel taking you over. “You’re supposed to be cleaning!”

Wanda’s eyes pick up as she hears you yell, meeting your stare across the room. A smirk appears on her face, her expression seeming very amused by your sudden entrance. “Believe me, what I’m doing is much more enjoyable.”

You scowl back, annoyed by the fact you’d just spent the last half hour cleaning the house while she had been sitting up here doing nothing for who knows how long. If you were more argumentative, you would think of something to say in retaliation, some quick quip to get back at her for being lazy. But you’d never been very good at arguing, never very good at holding your temper. So instead you simply hold your tongue as you walk further in the room, watching Wanda as she stared back at you. Suddenly, your eyes fall to the paper in her hand, reminded of how similar this situation felt to the first time you’d met her. Like then, the same curiosity comes over you as to what she might be looking at, particularly how it could be classified as contraband. With that in mind, the next words you utter are not with anger anymore, but instead interest. “What are you reading?”

“Oh this?” Wanda replies, closing the magazine and holding it up briefly. She smirks your way, the grin wide against her cheeks. “Playboy.”

The word was unfamiliar to your mind. “What?”

Wanda’s brow raise. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of a playboy magazine.”

You notice in that moment she’d lost her gum from earlier. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if she’d stuck it under a piece of furniture somewhere. But still trying to focus on the conversation at hand, you simply shake your head in response.

Wanda looks surprised, her brows raising even further. You think she’s going to jest you further, make fun of you for not recognising the name of her treasured magazine, but instead she simply extends it out. “Look.”

You move slowly, slightly hesitant to approach. You know Natasha had confiscated something like this from Wanda before and you didn’t presume this new magazine was much different from that previously banned material. Still, your curiosity seems to be getting the better of you because you slowly sit down on Wanda’s bed, your legs hanging off the side whilst the brunette crosses hers. Against the covers of the bed, Wanda slides the magazine between the two of you, opening it to a random page. What is plastered over it causes your eyebrows to raise completely in shock.

Women. But not just any pictures of women. The magazine was covered in dozens of images of women in differing stages of nudity. Immediately when you saw it, you felt the need to pull your eyes away, knowing that these kind of images were most definitely not the kind you should be looking at. But at the same time, it was like you couldn’t stop. There are about four models across the two pages scattered with different images, sometimes wearing sets of black lacy lingerie, sometimes wearing nothing at all. Theres a strange sensation bubbling in your gut, an odd warmth spreading through your mind as you look down at the pictures. The pure immorality of it all is enough for you to shake your head viscously.

“This is-we’re not-you shouldn’t have that.” You stutter, the images imprinted in your brain making it harder to focus and find the right words. You’ve never seen anything like that before, never looked at a woman’s body so out in the open. Now you could see why Natasha had quickly confiscated Wanda’s magazine and hidden it away from your view. “How do you even have this?”

The brunette seems utterly unfazed by the material in front of you. More so, her face looks amused at your alarmed reaction. “I steal them out of my brother’s backpack when he comes to visit,” she replies casually, as if this is something she’s been doing for months. “He’s pretty oblivious so he never notices, always thinks he lost them. Besides, even if he did know, he couldn’t tell my parents. He’s not allowed them either.”

While Wanda explains, you have to fight against yourself to hold eye contact. In your peripheral, you can still see the open page of nude women, restraining yourself from your body’s seemingly natural instinct to look down. “This isn’t right,” you reply, shaking your head. “We shouldn’t be looking at that.”

Wanda scoffs, looking displeased at your disapproval. She reaches out for the magazine, pulling it back into her own lap as she glances down at the images. Then, she’s looking back up at you, face inquisitive. “You’ve really never seen one before?”

You’re not sure exactly where she thinks you were going to find such a thing, but you’re certain you’ve never seen anything of the sort before. “No,” you reply sternly, shaking your head once more.

Wanda laughs to herself, rolling her eyes. “You call yourself a lesbian and you don’t even know what a playboy is.”

Her words cause a deep frown to appear on your brow, your voice raising to almost a shout. “I’m not a lesbian.”

A perfect brow raises in your direction as Wanda looks at you. Her expression seems particularly amused. “No? How’d you end up here then?”

The question hits you hard, the same thing you’d been pondering to yourself over the last few weeks of your stay. “I’m not gay,” you reply harshly. “Everyone just thinks that I am.”

“And why do you think they think that?”

Wanda’s eyes meet your own as she speaks, the question another one familiar to your own mind. “I don’t know,” you shrug. “Stupid reasons.” You think back to the conversation you’d had with your parents, the first time any of this had even cropped up into your mind. “A few posters I had up in my room, a couple songs on my playlist. Oh, and I told my boyfriend I don’t like kissing him. Which is totally stupid. I’m pretty sure he’s just really bad at it.”

A chuckle emanates from Wanda’s throat. You’re not quite sure why, watching as she leans in closer to you. When she speaks again, her face is barely inches from your own. “Oh honey, you don’t like kissing him because you like kissing girls.”

“What?” you exclaim, taken aback by her accusation. That couldn’t possibly be right. “No! I don’t! I told you, I’m not a lesbian.”

Wanda smirks, her eyes trained on yours. “Okay, maybe not a lesbian but I bet you’ve thought about a girl while he’s kissing you.”

The idea was entirely preposterous. “No!” you yelled back. “I haven’t!”

But your anger is only met with amusement on Wanda’s side, her smirk only deepening as she leans back on the bed. “You’re cute when you lie.”

The words have you recoilling, the inclination behind them picked up on yet rejected by your brain. And yet, you could feel a warmth spreading to your cheeks, embarrassment flushing in.

“Have you ever kissed a girl?”

You snap on to Wanda as her question rings out, watching as she casually slides her magazine back behind her bedside table. “No,” you reply firmly. “Of course not.”

“Then how do you know you don’t like it?” The brunette sits up again, leaning in closer to you. Her eyes meet your own, a strange shadow seemingly passing over them. She watches you for a moment, in almost unreadable expression moving across her face. “Surely theres only one way to find out.”

Wanda’s voice is low, barely above a whisper. You find you’re too busy watching her lips to notice her leaning in even closer, face barely centimetres from your own. Suddenly, you pull back. “What are you doing?”

Wanda doesn’t miss a beat, continuing to lean in even as you pull away. One of her hands comes to rest on your thigh, fingers grazing the material of your pleated skirt. “It’s okay,” she says lowly. “I’m just trying to help you.”

Her advance doesn’t stop, face moving closer and close towards yours. It’s only when she’s almost touching you, you realise she’s trying to kiss you. “No,” you say quickly, pushing her back by the shoulders. “We can’t do that. It’s not right.”

Wanda sighs, relaxing her posture a little. She shifts in the bed, eyes still trained on you. For a moment she simply looks over your face before that smirk appears once more. “Maybe…” she says, angling her head. “But isn’t that the whole reason we’re here?” The question slightly throws you for a loop, your confusion allowing Wanda to move closer to you once more. “Don’t do you want to be a good girl and finish the program?”

The way her breath fans across your face sends an odd shiver down your neck, goosebumps appearing on your arms. Her choice of words seems to form an odd feeling in your stomach, but you try your best to brush it off, nodding your head in response to the question. You did want to finish the program. You wanted to be able to go back home to your family.

Wanda smiles at your answer, her head angling to the side as her voice takes a caring tone. “Well we both know what the first step is…You have to admit to yourself you like girls.” She leans in closer, her eyes briefly flashing down to your lips. “You can’t heal if you don’t admit you have a problem.”

Her words mirror those of Natasha’s, the same thing she’d been trying to get through to you for weeks. But you can’t help but fight the part of your brain that recalls everything you’ve been taught about attraction. “This isn’t right,” you say quietly. “You have to stop.” And yet you find yourself making no move to pull away from the girl whose face sits mere inches from your own.

“As I said, I’m just trying to help you.” Wanda’s voice is calm, understanding. “Once you realise you like girls, you can move on with the rest of the program.” Then the brunette shrugs a shoulder. “Or hey, you maybe hate it and realise you actually are straight.”

It makes some sense in your mind but you’re still hesitant, knowing that what Wanda was even suggesting was against everything you wanted to believe in. “I don’t think that we should-“

“Just don’t think.” Wanda cuts you off before you can finish, and before you can even process what’s happening, she closes the final gap between you. Her lips meet yours, soft and warm against your skin. It’s gentle but rough at the same time, your eyes fluttering closed. Then immediately, as the warmth leaves, they snap back open.

Wanda’s staring back at you, face smiling. “How’d that feel?” You notice that her eyes look a little blown out, pupils wide against the sea of green. “Feels good right?”

Suddenly you realise what’s just happened, every part of your upbringing screaming inside your head. “What? No!” you reply, flustering. “No, it didn’t feel good. It felt wrong.”

But some part of you creeps up in the back of your mind, a part you recognised and yet wanted to snuff out more than anything, a part that knew you were lying.

And apparently, Wanda can see right through to that part too. “I can see it on your face, honey,” she says, voice now teasing. Her eyes trace over your features and you wonder what exactly gave it away. There isn’t much time to think however, as before you know it, Wanda’s leaning in again. Her lips meet yours, a hand sliding to your thigh once more.

“Stop,” you reply, pulling away. “This isn’t right. We’re not supposed to-“

Wanda cuts you off again. “Don’t think about what we’re supposed to do. Think about what feels right.”

You notice again the wildness of her pupils, only for a moment, before she leans in again. Your eyes close on impact, her lips crashing into yours in another kiss. Only this time you instinctively lean into it, pursing your lips against hers. Wanda pushes back, her mouth opening just slightly to take in your lips and you find yourself leaning in. There’s a reminiscent taste of bubblegum, sweet on your tongue as her saliva begins to mix with your own. The hand on your thigh tightens, another placed on to the side of your face. For a second you don’t think about anything other than just how good this moment feels.

It’s seconds later Wanda pulls away, her touch lingering but her lips missing. You find your eyes opening, gazing back at the smirking brunette staring back at you. “It feels pretty good doesn’t it?”

You’re lost for words, sure of your answer to her question but so reluctant to admit it. Wanda smiles back at you, her grip on your leg slowly raising up, ever so slightly bunching the fabric of your skirt. Before you can formulate a response, she’s moving in towards you. Her face disappears into the crook of your neck, her warm breath fanning out across your skin before her lips attach. Without thinking, your head falls back, only giving the brunette more access to nip at the skin of your neck. Your eyes feel heavy, an odd sensation pooling deep in your body. “I can make you feel so good…”

The words reverberate across your skin, sending shivers down your neck and across your chest. A small whine exits your throat, unintended by any part of you but seemingly drawn out by the gentle touches of both Wanda’s lips and her fingers dancing across your skin. “Wanda…”

The brunette slowly pulls back, her face rising to meet with yours. Theres a look in her eye you can’t identify. “You’re already a sinner now, right?” she says, voice husky. “No harm in twisting the knife.”

There’s a moment where you want to turn away, to listen to the rational part of your brain that tells you this is all wrong. But right now there’s only one thing you can truly think of; just how good it felt with Wanda’s lips against your own.

Your hands grab at the brunettes shoulders as you pull her in, the pair of you colliding before you even recognise what you’re doing. The kiss comes fast, clashing together in your desperation for the girl to stop talking and just to feel her against you again. Wanda smirks against your lips, humming an amused noise before she’s all over you.

Her hands find purchase in your hair, entangling in the strands at the nape of your neck as she pulls you in closer to her body. Her kiss becomes fiercer, control quickly being regained as she presses her lips into yours. A small hum of your own escapes as she presses her tongue into your mouth, quickly taking over as you simply let her in without protest. And in that moment a thought crashes over your mind; gay or not, your boyfriend was definitely bad at kissing. Furthermore, Wanda was very, very good.

Your hands grips slightly at her shoulders as the brunette domineers the kiss, her lips almost possessive against your own as her hand clutches as your cheek, manipulating your position to give her full control. You feel her other hand begin to drift further up your legs, pushing your skirt up to your hips before climbing even higher. Delicate touches grace over your stomach, then softly against your chest. You release a small whine as Wanda nips at your lip with her teeth, at the same time, reaching to unbutton the top clasp of your shirt. Her fingers work faster than your mind can even process, too distracted by the touch of her lips to notice her quick work of opening your entire shirt. It’s only when she reaches to touch your chest, a gasp of realisation releases from your throat.

Wanda however, continues without missing a beat. As you gasp, she lets her lips leave your own, reappearing quickly on the side of your neck. Her hand tightens around the skin beneath it on your chest, fingers squeezing around your bra and grabbing hold of your breast beneath it. Her soft kisses continue to move lower as you whine softly, her touch against your chest sending shivers down your body.

Then, her mouth turns more aggressive, resting just at the curve of your breast she begins to suck on the flesh harder, nipping with her teeth before smoothing it over with her tongue. You whine softly, the new sensation novel to your body but so intrinsically intuned. For the first time your eyes open, looking down to where the brunette resides again your chest. You notice the way your necklace rests between the wisps of her hair, a silver cross that you’d worn every day for years. The image is enough to remind you of how wrong this is, how under no circumstances you should be letting a girl kiss you or touch your body like this. But before you can fully wrap your mind around the forbidden nature of the act, a new sensation is stripping a small gasp from your chest. Wanda’s fingers move back to your thighs, slipping up the exposed skin before coming to rest on your underwear underneath.

“Wanda…” you breathe heavily, worked up by her touch and yet knowing how wrong it all was. You shouldn’t be doing this, any of it, especially what Wanda was insinuating as she slipped her hand beneath your skirt.

“Shh, it’s okay.” The brunette replies with ease, her voice low and sensual. Her eyes raise back up to your face, meeting your gaze with a blown out expression. “Let me make you feel good, Y/N.”

And with that, her mouth is on yours again. Her kiss is enough to distract you from forming a response, eyes closing as the sweet taste of bubblegum coats your tongue once more. Then you feel her fingers again, pressing lightly against the material of your underwear, tracing the lines of your folds underneath. Small noises travel from your mouth to hers, receptive to her touch, but it’s when she presses her thumb to your clothed clit, a moan finally slips out.

The situation is entirely new to you, never having been touched by anyone this way before. You and your boyfriend had always said you’d wait till marriage, just like you knew you should. But here with Wanda, her lips against yours and her fingers tracing your most delicate areas, the endorphins flowing through your brain are enough to say to hell with it all.

You push harder into the kiss, grasping hold of Wanda’s shoulders as you try to gain the upper hand. But the brunette is much more experienced than you and doesn’t let up easily. Her hands move to your own shoulders and quickly begin to push the open shirt from them. Her lips remain on yours, strong and fierce, until the shirt has been slipped from your body. Then Wanda pulls away, her eyes drifting down over you for just a moment before she’s grabbing at you again. She spins you around, pulling you fully on to the bed as her hands press your shoulders down into the mattress. In a swift movement, she’s kicking off her shoes to the floor, then pulling yours off too. She comes to settle on top of you, knees placed either side of your legs as she looks down. Her hands are quick as she unbuttons her own shirt, tossing it to the side. Then, she’s moving to unclip her bra.

You feel your eyes widen slightly as Wanda’s bare chest is revealed to you. Before the magazine she’d shown you minutes before, it’s the first time you’ve looked at another woman so nude. And in that moment, despite what your brain is screaming out to you, you can’t help but think about how good she looks.

Wanda seems to notice your staring, her face pulling an entirely amused expression as she looks down at you. “I don’t see why you deprive yourself of this, Y/N,” she says, beginning to lean in. Her lips meet your neck, sucking gently as you feel her fingers slip behind your shoulder blades, seeking the clasp of your bra. “Can something truly be so wrong if it brings you so much pleasure?”

You try to reply to her question, brain racking all of the answers you know you should be saying. But then her lips are sucking at your neck and you’re arching into her touch, once again taken over entirely by the flush of pleasure underneath her control. Theres a release against your chest as Wanda unclips your bra, tossing it easily to the side along with her own. “So gorgeous,” the brunette murmurs, one hand coming to grab at your chest. Then her lips are on you again, kissing at the skin around your nipple. When she pulls it into her mouth, teeth grazing over the bud, a needy whine erupts in your throat. Wanda smirks against you, breathing out a laugh. “So sensitive.”

Her mouth continues to work around the skin of your chest, before you notice her fingers crawling over your stomach. They take hold of your skirt, pressing it up to bunch at your waist. Then Wanda is moving away, fingers quickly hooking themselves under the sides of your underwear as she begins to slide them down.

For a sudden moment, you’re acutely aware of what’s going on, of how you are quite literally in a dorm at a camp where this type of behaviour was attempted to be corrected. Not to mention the rule of any sort of fraternisation being entirely banned. “Wait,” you say, looking down at the brunette between your legs, suddenly afraid of what you were about to do. “I don’t think-“

“I told you to stop thinking,” Wanda replies, eyes snapping to yours. She continues to pull your underwear down, throwing them to the floor once they’ve passed your ankles. Before you can say anything more, her lips drown you in a kiss. The sweetness of it all is enough to wipe any of the doubt from your mind, so when Wanda’s hands dip between your legs, you don’t hesitate to let her. Deft fingers run between your folds, teasing you slightly as they brush gently across your clit. You sigh breathily between the breaks of your kiss, Wanda’s touch like electric to your skin.

“God, you’re so wet, Y/N,” the brunette whispers, pulling her face away to smirk down at you. “Is this all for me?”

She’s teasing you, making you think about how hesitant you’d been to this whole idea, and then about how receptive you were under her touch. But you don’t want to think about any of that, don’t want to remind yourself of how wrong this all was. All you want is for her to keep going. “Wanda…” you whine, squirming under her as her fingers teased your entrance. “Please.”

You don’t even truly know what you’re asking for her to do, all you know is you need her. Thankfully, the brunette is proficient in picking up your body’s signals. “Shh, it’s okay,” she whispers, breath fanning across your face. “I know what you need, princess. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

It’s only seconds later you feel her middle finger plunge into you. You let out a loud gasp at the contact, feeling her finger begin to move inside of you like nobody’s had before. Her name drips off your tongue, laced with pleasure, as her head moves back to your chest, tongue playing with your hardened nipple. Theres a mark resting there, red and throbbing below the skin of your cross. In the heat of the moment, you hands reach out to grasp the back of her head, intertwining with her hair as you feel her add another finger inside you.

The pleasure rolls of you in waves, Wanda’s touch like a skilled professional highly attuned to draw sweet subtle moans from your mouth. Her thumb circles your clit as she continues to pump her fingers inside of you, curling them to reach that spot that sends shivers up your spine.

“Fuck, Wanda,” you murmur, nails lightly scratching at her bare back.

The brunette chuckles, raising her head from your chest. “Now that’s not a very holy word, is it Y/N?” She smirks, and for a moment her touch is gone. You whine, chasing her fingers as they leave your needy core. Theres a second she lifts her weight and you see her reaching to remove her own underwear, then she’s back on you, this time sitting against just on of your thighs. You can feel her wetness against your skin, a soft moan escaping as she makes contact. “I wanna cum with you, okay?” she says, eyes meeting yours. You nod eagerly but your reply is swallowed up by a low cry as her fingers suddenly sink back into you.

Her speed picks up as she begins to curl inside you once again, a soft stream of curses leaving your lips at the unexplainable pleasure of her touch. You can feel Wanda begin to grind on to your thigh as she works, soft gasps escaping from her lips each time her clit brushes beautifully against your skin. She showers your praises as you whimper noises of your own, breaths heavy and moans unrestrained as she brings you closer and closer to that edge.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, princess,” Wanda husks over you. “Such a pretty girl for me.”

Her words only add to the building feeling in your lower stomach, that familiar coil building from the times you’d reached down to pleasure yourself after your parents had went to bed - not that you would tell anyone that.

“Please, Wanda,” you whimper, back arching into her. “I’m close-please…”

One hand continues to pump inside you, paced perfectly as her curled fingers reached that spot with each thrust. The other come up to play with a perked nipple, the bud rolling though Wanda’s fingers as helpless whines spill from your mouth. “Just a minute, princess,” Wanda replies, her breathing heavy. “I’m almost there.”

Surprisingly, her pace doesn’t falter as she too climbs closer to her orgasm. Her moans grow louder, her cunt grinding harder against your thigh as she continues to swirl your clit at the perfect speed. It’s when you finally tense the muscles in your leg, that she finally falls apart.

You feel her soak your thigh, gasping desperately as she cums. You watch mesmerised as her face screws up, her jaw hanging loose as she rides out her orgasm on your leg, drunk on pleasure. It only adds to the bundling arousal pooling in your lower stomach.

“Cum, pretty girl” Wanda whispers, still coming down from her high. “Cum for me.”

And you do. With her fingers curling just right inside you, you finally tip over the edge. Your orgasm comes hard, crashing over you in a tidal wave as Wanda slowly circles your clit, guiding you through it. A guttural moan elicits from your throat, Wanda’s name lacing your tongue. That pleasant buzz takes over your mind as you feel her fingers slow, riding out your high, drunk on her touch. You’re on the brink of overstimulation when she finally removes her hand entirely. Eventually your eyelids flutter open, heavy from exhaustion, and you spy the brunette with her fingers deep isnide her mouth, her tongue lapping up every last bit of your arousal.

“So sweet,” she murmurs above you, both of your minds still fuzzy from the resounding pleasure. Eventually, the brunette moves herself away from your thigh, whining slightly as her core is exposed to the cool air. Her body flops down next to yours, shoulders touching as you lay cramped in the single cot. Your heavy breaths are the only sound for a long while, loud in the silence of the dormitory. Then finally, when you’ve managed to right your body again, your face turns to look at the girl beside you. Wanda is already staring back, green eyes wide as a huge smirk settles across her lips. She looks you up and down, her grin only widening as she husks, “You still wanna believe you’re not into girls?”.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fic #marvel

[skk-fan-page]

What does this:

Mean in the context of skk, 15, stormbringer, and dazai acting like a lovesick puppy.

Well, the first thing I notice is that it's heavily implied that dazai didn't say shit and hasn't in his entire employment at the ada. Everyone talks about the mafia with a certain level of "hey I heard about you because my mom's dad's aunt's best friend's knitting club was talking about you and one of the members' dog's coparent said they saw you at Walmart."

Between akutagawa, higuchi, and now chuuya, it's like they know nothing that might help them with the mafia.

Why wouldnt yosano know though, she used to be mafia? Well that's what I thought at first too. I figured maybe rumors had just spread throughout the mafia in her time there.

But, at the same time, add up these numbers and then tell me if the math is mathing for yosano to know anything about chuuya

Chuuya is 22 and joined when he was 15, meaning he joined 7 years ago. 14 years ago (11 when she finally escaped) means not only would she not have met him, he would've been 11 by the time she left.

Not only that, but she was an 11 year old child-doctor, which means she would've had no contacts in the Mafia and no friends to tell her anything.

And, most damning of all, in 15 phase.02 mori says this when asked about suribachi city.

By the time chuuya was awakened, yosano was already out.

So maybe it's kyouka. But here's the thing: she doesn't seem to know shit outside of her (old) job description. She was in such an information silo that she didn't know what a crepe was. That makes her out of the picture for me, especially considering she was the subordinate of the subordinate of the boss's subordinate.

So that leaves 2 options: word on the street, and dazai.

If I can get information on the second highest ring of your underground murder organization by asking around, your organization is getting shit on by the feds in 4 seconds flat.

So that leaves one option: dazai.

But he doesn't seem to be much of a sharer, so why would he share about mafia things? Well we have precedent for it.

There's this incident, proving he's totally chill with sharing about the mafia. And then, there's something so gay it will make you want to claw your eyes out and join the witness protection program to get away from how single you feel

I wish someone would look at me the way dazai looks at chuuya's corruption form. And he's even bragging about him and how cool and powerful he is.

Regardless, this proves that he does totally talk about chuuya when he's not listening, and that he's not the inscrutable clamshell of a man he pretends to be.

Now: the other implication. Chuuya just assumes dazai was talking about him, meaning this was a pattern in the past. We can see this pattern manifest in the party that dazai tries to throw in 15, as well as the fact that ango knows chuuya in dead apple.

How many times do you think dazai genuinely set up challenges for chuuya back in his mafia days, to the point where upon being recognized, his first thought is "dazai did this."

Just put a ring on it already guys.

#bsd skk #skk #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #bsd #soukoku #bsd soukoku

[lizthewriter]

messy / regina george

PAIRING  regina george x fem!reader

SUMMARY  you and regina have been secretly hooking up for months, but she breaks up with you when you ask for more. after she gets hit by a bus, you fear for her life and whatever relationship you have left.

TAGS  regina george x fem!reader, hurt/comfort, angst, happy ending, queer!, reneé rapp is so fine 😫😫, internalized homophobia, use of d-slur (lesbian slur)

QUOTE  "half of all my exes regret me, / but none of them will ever forget me, / loving me gets really messy," - messy by reneé rapp

WRITTEN  1.13.2024

WORD COUNT  1.3K

A/N everytime reneé showed up on screen, i literally started banging my fists against my seat because she SERVED CUNT!!!! SHE WAS SO FINE!!!! literally after the movie, my best friend said to me: "i think you're just gay. i think you're a woman kisser. you might just have a little fruit in your cup."

slammed up against the wall, you felt regina's teeth clash furiously against yours. it was all hot passion - how your lips ran feverishly against hers as though you'd never get to feel her touch again, the way her hands ran up and down the sides of your body as though she needed to memorize the shape of you. days the two of you had gone without a moment to yourselves. days you had spent fantasizing about her pressing you up against the wall. it wasn't that you didn't want a normal relationship. it wasn't that you didn't want to kiss and hold hands and go on cute dates, but . . . that wasn't regina's style. she was closeted. heavily. actually, you weren't sure that she even understood that making out with girls was perhaps the most gay thing she could do, but you were willing to take what you were given. it was regina george, after all.

she pulled away from you by biting gently down on your lip, letting go when she could no longer stretch it any longer. "god, you're so hot," she whispered with a smirk, unbuttoned the first two buttons of your shirt. she reclaimed the control she had over your body, pressing her lips to your collarbone. your hands somehow found their way to her beautiful blond locks, scraping her scalp with the sharp edge of your nails. fantasy was nothing like reality. you had forgotten how good it felt, but how terrible it was all at once. as her warm breath tickled your skin, doubts that had been haunting you the past few days filled your mind slowly. was this healthy? didn't you deserve a healthy queer relationship, one that would be open and free and full of love, real love?

you wanted it all. you wanted the life you saw other queer girls have all around the world. going on cute picnic dates with homeade muffins and favorite books, sitting in the lap of your partner and doing their makeup, snuggling on the couch while watching a movie. holding hands while strolling the town center. it was hard to keep these thoughts back any longer. they overflowed.

you felt regina freeze as you gently pushed her away from where she had latched onto your upper chest. "can we, um, talk?" you ask. she could hear the tone in your voice. you knew she could. the way her eyes met yours made your stomach twist with discomfort.

"talk?" she asked in an incredulous tone, pulling away.

"it's just that, well, hear me out first. i like you. i really like you, a lot! that's why i really want us to be more than . . . making out in the custodian's closet after school and sneaking into your room while your mom's asleep," you explained nervously, stumbling over your words. finally able to meet her eyes, all hope was shattered as you felt her icy stare fixed upon your flushed face.

"i thought we made a deal when we started this. nothing more than this." she barked out a bitter laugh and fluffed out her hair. "what, did you think i was some kind of dyke or something? this was supposed to be fun. nice job stamping out that fire." she opened the door to the closet and waltzed out like nothing had happened. as if you didn't spend the entire last three months building a bond. heart: broken.

-

fear couldn't describe the emotion you felt driving to the hospital. it was gut-wrenching, blood-curdling, heart-tearingly excruciating. the rumors swirling around made your sick with worry. could she really be dead?

you weren't there when it happened. you had been driving home and then doing homework, hiding your phone away in a drawer somewhere to keep you distracted. it wasn't until hours later that you checked your notifications to realize she had been admitted to the er.

you rushed into the hospital, demanding to hear about her condition.

"are you immediate family?" the nurse at the desk asked. of course you lied. of course you said yes. she gave you the room number and told you that you could wait in the hall - the doctors were talking with her mother and you would need to wait until she woke up herself.

when you arrived at the door to her room, you were afraid to look inside. you weren't sure why. she was alive, yes. maybe you were afraid she was still upset with you. or worse, she had amnesia and forgot about you completely. dejected, you collapsed into the very comfortable plastic chair next to her room.

a few minutes later, the door opened and the doctors and mrs. george exited the room. you stood up suddenly, expectant in your expression.

"she's fine. she's going to heal 100%, she just needs to wear a corrective neck bracelet for several weeks," the doctors assured you. you could relax, just a little. they walked down the hall, chatting softly. mrs. george grinned at you - you had met before, of course, being introduced as one of regina'a friends.

"well, look who we have here! did you hear the news? they said my name on the evening," she told you excitedly, as though her daughter weren't stuck in the hospital from injuries resulting for being hit. by a bus. "head on in darling, those cute boys said she'd be awake soon." her eyes trailed down the hall to the two doctors that had revived regina. with a mini-wave and a "toodle-doo!" she was down the hall and full on flirting with men much younger than herself.

the doorknob to regina's room stared back at you with intimidation so strong you almost turned around and drove home. you reached out a closed your hand around the cool metal, slowly turning it until you were passing through the doorway and standing feet away from her bed. it didn't feel as scary as you thought, entering her room, staring over at her bed. she looked more at peace then you had ever seen her, she looked prettier than you had ever seen her. without her mean-girl face, she seemed a lot more genuine. a lot more like the regina that opened up to you that one chilly night in december.

you silently pulled a chair next to her bed and sat there, waiting for her to wake up. you didn't mind the wait, in a way. because she was sitting there next to you, and she was going to be okay.

when regina awoke, she seemed more confused than anything. her brows furrowed as she looked around the room, her eyes finally landing on you.

"hey," you said all of a sudden, sitting up straight. "you're okay, you're fine. you're . . . in the hospital."

"what are you doing here?" not snappy or bitter or angry. genuine.

"i heard you got hit by a bus," you said, biting your bottom lip anxiously. would she yell at you? tell you she never wanted to see you again? "i heard . . . i you died. i just had to see for myself, to make sure you were okay. i'm sorry, if you don't want me here, i'll -"

"don't leave!" she shouted, grabbing your hand. you stared down at the place where her skin met your hand. this wasn't happening. this couldn't be happening. her fingers intertwined with yours and you find her eyes to be pleading you. "please, just don't leave."

"regina -"

"just shut up and listen, okay?" she told you, sounding upset, but it didn't seem to be an emotion she was directing towards you. you sat back down and scooted your chair closer to her. "i want us to be something more too . . . okay? i like you, loser."

you narrowed your eyes at her. "is this regina george trying to be nice?" you asked dubiously.

"don't ruin the moment or i'm taking everything i said back."

"no," you said quickly, shaking your head with a smile. you placed your other hand on the one clasped in hers. "it's a good look on you. really."

#— [ glizzy posts ☆ ] #regina george x reader #regina george x you #mean girls 2024 #mean girls musical #mean girls #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fic #writing #fanfic #renee rapp #reneé rapp

[empty-movement]

Chiho Saito’s 1999 Revolutionary Girl Utena Original Illustration Collection

IT’S HERE. IT’S DONE. IT’S FINISHED. NOW…IT’S YOURS. Happy Holidays, my friends.

Vanna here! I have posted some already about this project, and the responses I got, public and otherwise, have been absolutely incredible. Y’all have been reblogging and hyping this before it even finished…I haven’t felt so encouraged about an Utena project since the musicals! (Yes, streams soon, I promise.) You can read the other post to get more details, and catch my post here with more details about the process if you’re interested. The long and short of it?

This is the first artbook I ever scanned. I did it in 2001. In Photoshop, using multiple scans per page that took hours to process. But it was 2001. A half megabyte file that was 1250px wide was considered extremely hardcore and impressive. That’s just always been the business I’m in when it comes to Utena art, you know? 

It’s now the latest artbook I’ve scanned, and so much of the process, and effort involved, is unchanged. What has changed, is the result. Welcome to your new desktop background. Your new phone background. Your new poster print. 

What I’ve done here is attempt to create definitive digitized images of Chiho Saito’s work as offered by this book--I have removed the print moiré of the original scans, and used my literal decades of experience to try and tease out as much information from them as possible. Without being physically in front of the original artwork (which is a thing I’ve had the great fortune to get to do) this is The Most Chiho Saito you are ever going to get. I’ve tried my best to make sure there is a way to get it that works for everyone:

Do you just wanna scope 'em out? Look at some disaster gays? Grab your favorite one or two? This is the path for you! Check out the ‘compressed’ (not very) 10k ‘web friendly’ (not really) copy at the Bibliothèque, the media archiving wing of the Something Eternal forums at Empty Movement*. All the following links are also available from here. Do you want these copies? All of them? Don't just grab them individually, friend. This batch is 375MB and can be downloaded as a zip of the individual files here on our Google Drive.

Do you like digital archiving? Are you looking for a copy that preserves the archival quality of the effort but sits nice and comfy in a single file? This is for you. A minimally compressed 10k, 513MB version worked into a PDF is now up, shiny and chrome, on the Internet Archive. Do you like the idea of the minimal compression, but want the individual files in a zip? Yep I did that too, here's the drive link.

Are you looking to print these in a larger size? This is probably the only reason on Earth you’d ever want them, and yet a bunch of you are going to go straight for these. Here are the zero-compression JPG full size copies, most of them are 15k across, like simply a ridiculous size. Pick your fave and download it from our Google Drive! 

I am genuinely really proud of this work.** I was able to tease out so much new detail from these…her incredible layering techniques, the faintest brush of her highlights, and the full range of her delicate hand at whites and blacks… details commonly lost in digitization. I sincerely hope you find something here that you’re looking for, as an artist looking for inspiration, as a weeb looking for a desktop, as an archiver excited to see incredible 90s manga artwork saved forever in the digital realm. I feel like I have already said so much about them, and could keep going, but you know what? This work speaks for itself. Enjoy, use, explore, and definitely tell us what you think!

We love y’all. ~ Vanna & Yasha

* AHEM ASTERISK AHEM

You might be wondering what any of that is. Something Eternal? Biblewhatawhat??? EmptyMovement.com? You might even have done a double take at the word ‘forum.’ And you should!!!

I have a confession. This artbook was my ‘side project’ as I worked on this, *the main project.* For a couple years I’ve been banging around with a new domain, and originally I had other plans for it, but Elon Musk ruined my Twitter and Discord is well along on its way to enshittification, and well….we joke on the Discord a lot about ‘reject modernity, embrace forums’ and you know what? We’re right. So Yasha and I are putting our money where our mouths are once again, and doing something insane. We are launching, in 2023, a website forum. Obviously, this is not the official ‘launch’ per se, but I cannot announce the artbook without directing you to the forum, since it sits on the attached very cool gallery system. Oops! Told on myself. Another post more focused on the forum will be forthcoming, but if you are just that motivated to get in right away, you absolutely can! (This will help stagger new arrivals anyway, which is good for us!) If you would rather wait for the ‘official’ launch, by all means that’s coming, including a lengthy screed about how and why we’re doing this. In either case, remember: this is a couple weebs trying to make internet magic happen, we are not website developers by trade. Give us grace as we iron things out and grow into this cool new website thingie…hopefully along with some of you! :D

If you do join up, naturally, there is a thread about this project!

** If you like this kind of content, consider helping us pay for it! We do have a Patreon! If you’re wanting to use these in some public-facing distributive way, all we ask is for credit back to Empty Movement (ohtori.nu or emptymovement.com, either will work.) 

I would like to say ‘don’t just slap these files on RedBubble to get easy money’ but I know that saying this won’t effectively prevent it. Y’all that do that suck, but you’re not worth letting it rain on the rest of this parade. :)

#revolutionary girl utena #utena #rgu #sku #empty movement #chiho saito #90s manga #digital archives #manga aesthetic #shoujo kakumei utena #utena art

[s-4pphics]

click! 3 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 7.4k 

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep and black :3, crack, light smut [masturbation], sexual tension… it’s starting, light angst, weed, brief mention of suicide, pretty cute tbh

one. two. four.

A/N: hi stinks :3 i’m obsessed with them….. taking my time with these two hope yall like it LOL bye

Butterflies are fluttering, birds are chirping, and the crops are watered when you wake. You slept through the entire night, and the beast inside you is satisfied. 

But the gorgeous scenery in your mind dies in an instant when you recall what the fuck you did last night. Maybe you are a low-down, dirty whore, just like your roomie said. She has the audacity to terrorize your subconscious enough to actually feature in one of your meat-beat sessions. Not only that, but you busted in two minutes to the thought of her demanding you to fix a window that isn’t even broken. 

You… are a hoe. How awkward. You just wanted to fight her days ago, and now your pussy’s got a crush. Not you, your pussy. You accepted that you and your cunt are two separate entities a long time ago. 

You lay in your bed, eyes melting holes into the ceiling; What the fuck is going on?

Ellie… sex… her asking for head… you asking for head from her… The math isn’t mathing. Ellie’s gay as a bitch, you know that for a fact, but why her? The math has never mathed, actually. You’re going to fail statistics, speaking of… Is statistics considered math? 

It’s still freezing in your apartment. Is Ellie still not back yet? Your shared space is never this silent or cold; A rat could be crawling around in search of cheese and you would hear it like a hounddog. 

You throw your blankets off and instantly regret it; You’re shocked snow isn’t falling from inside your fucking apartment. It has to be negative thirty in this bitch. If Ellie’s asleep, you don’t know how she survived the night. 

Your knees crack as you quietly pull your door open, light creaks from the hardwood sounding your walk to Ellie’s bedroom. You can’t imagine how crazy you look, ear pressed against her door, listening for any movement to prove that she’s alive and not a fucking block of ice. 

Either you’re hallucinating, or she’s mumbling in her sleep. Her voice is hushed and croaky, supposedly asking if Spider-man stole her fucking lunch money to pay the Pope back for stealing… something; You can’t pick up what she said from out here. Your hand flies over your mouth to hide a laugh. She must be exhausted; When did she get back last night? 

You let her sleep-talk in peace and head to the kitchen to brew your coffee. You really beat off to that bonehead. Go figure. 

For the first time since Ellie moved in, you’re gone before her. 

You’re strolling the icy streets, strutting to your heart’s content, Tina Snow vibrating your eardrums. Last night’s nut really did something incredible to your spirit; You’ve never felt lighter. One more unsuspecting gust of wind and you’re taking flight, for sure. Your brain gives subconscious Ellie knuckles. 

You burst through the coffee shop like you own it, silently celebrating when you realize there’s no line. You order and receive your dark drink in record time, taking a seat by the large window at the back of the shop. What gorgeous scenery! 

Your cup is almost empty when your phone vibrates on the table. It’s Maymay! You answer with the brightest smile. “My babyyy— “

“Bitch, cut the shit! Fuck you! Why haven’t you called?” She yells through the line. 

“Well, uh…” You almost committed arson in your building! “Just… just school stuff! You wouldn’t know about that, Ms. Celebrity!” 

Your best friend giggles, “Shut up! I’m a D-lister at most!” You shake your head in denial; That internship program doesn’t understand the blessing that Amaya holds. Her ear is godsend and she comprehends sound like no other. 

“How’s the roomie thing going? I haven’t heard much!” 

Oh, fuck. “… Fine.” 

She’s silent for a second, “The fuck does that mean?” 

Your fingernail snaps between your teeth. “I mean it’s fine, just like I said.” 

Amaya hums, clearly suspicious, “… Whatever you say, then.” 

“Yup.” 

She snorts. “Anyway… what’re you doing for Chri— “

“Ellie made me bust with her telepathy.” This is not the conversation you should be having in a coffee shop, but if people heard you, fuck it. 

“… Bitch… What?” 

“I didn’t wanna tell you, okay? I didn't! Incel made her way into my fucking brain and I busted! Sue me!” 

Silence passes, and then there’s laughter from the other line. “Are you high right now?” 

“No, it’s fucking nine in the morning— “

“Ain’t nothing wrong with a lil’ wake-and-bake— “

“I just told you I mentally fucked my roomie and that’s what you say?” 

She sighs, “I mean… I saw the picture you sent me. She's not ugly. Doesn’t seem like your type, though.” 

“She’s not my type! I thought about her for two seconds on accident and I came! Abby couldn’t even get me there and she—” 

“Woah, woah, pause… Abby couldn’t get you where?” 

“Not a location, bitch. I couldn’t bust!” A sharp gasp from her. Your brows furrow, “What?” 

“Oh, bitch…”

“What, Maya?” 

You hear the smile in her tone, “You gotta crush?” 

You gag, “Fuck no! Have you lost your mind! My…” You pause and check to see if anyone’s near. Nobody. You whisper-shout into the speaker, “My pussy’s crushing!” 

Amaya sucks her teeth in annoyance, “Girl…”

“It’s true! You know she gotta mind of her own! I can’t do anything about that!” 

Your bestie’s snickering to herself, “Whatever you say, mama. But for someone that thinks with her clit… you might wanna have a conversation with her. You know her better than anybody.” 

You’re stunned to say the least. You love Amaya to death, but she’s batshit crazy to suggest that you’re crushing on someone like Ellie. She called you a worthless tramp in broad daylight, for fucks sake. She wasn’t entirely wrong, but it still stung a little. 

You sip your coffee, “I love you… I gotta go.” 

“Mhm…” You hate how sure she sounds. “Love you, too.” 

You nervously twiddle your fingers until your first class, the day dragging even more than usual. Mainly due to the fact that you’re wondering if Amaya was right. Your lectures feel like a blur; All you can think about is Ellie. The spot-covered hermit. Squash-loving loser with a decent nose… and decent hands… and decently toned arms. 

Your pussy squeezes in the middle of class when you briefly envision them wrapped around you, and it sends a shockwave to your brain. 

Oh, shit. 

Raja was sweet enough to cover your shift for you; You can’t focus on credit card sales today. 

The second you enter your freezing apartment, you hear quiet sobs. Ellie sits at the small table as she scrolls through her phone, forms scattered all over the glass. She’s sniffling and wiping her face with her hoodie sleeve, and your brows crease. 

You shut the door behind you before making your way over to her. Not too close, though. 

“Uhh… you good?” 

“Yeah.” Her voice breaks, and something shifts in you. Somewhere in your chest. Why’re her cheeks so red?

“… You sure?” You cringe. 

“I said yeah.” 

She clearly doesn’t want to chat. Whatever’s going on, she can handle on her own. She doesn’t need coddling, especially from you. Why’re you still standing here?

“I, uh… I found a Snicker’s.” You slip. 

Ellie finally faces you, clearly confused. Why can’t you just shut the hell up for once? Another shift from your chest at her teary eyes. 

“What?” 

“I mean, uh, I bought a Snicker’s. Like, candy.” You pull said bar from your puffer pocket. You did buy it for Abby for when you see her to study, but it looks like your roomie needs it more. 

“… Okay?” 

You pull out and hand the wrapped chocolate out to her, “You’re not you when you’re hungry.” 

Her eyes switch between your face and the candy bar; She doesn’t look impressed. Maybe she’s allergic to nuts! You knew you should’ve got the fucking Sour Straws—

“Thanks.” 

You barely register her taking the bar, her cold fingers brushing against yours. Another zap in your brain. She rips it open and eats it in silence. An awkward chuckle from you, “Is it yummy?” You expect her to tell you to fuck off, but she doesn’t. She just nods and chews. 

Your nosiness gets the best of you, discreetly inspecting the forms on the table. A bunch of random names are crossed out in her notebook, a couple of signed forms crumpled up and raggedy. You don’t know what any of this means. 

“You’re not slick.” Ellie talks with her mouth full.

“Hm?” 

“You’re really gonna read my shit like that?” 

You take a seat next to her, “… I didn’t.” 

“Okay,” She mumbles. “Remember…” She scratches at her ear, “Remember that booking that got canceled because of the storm?” You nod. She swallows the last bits of her candy. “I was supposed to take pictures of this couple before their wedding, but…” 

“They, uh… They don’t wanna reschedule. Said it’s too hectic because of the holidays and there’s not enough time.” 

You hum, “Okay… So, what does that mean?” 

“I can’t submit my portfolio without those pictures. And it fucked my money up.” 

“Damn… how much were they paying?” 

She scoffs, “A lot. I don’t even wanna think about how much I lost trying to get the setup right.” 

You ponder for a second, “I mean, I’m sure there’s other people who want nice pics. You’ve been hustling this whole time— “

She interrupts, “I don’t wanna hustle anymore. I’m… I’m tired. It’s fucking exhausting doing promotions by yourself.” 

You hear the stress in her voice, and you feel for her. Being a full-time creative can be pretty shitty at times. Most times. The amount of attempts you’ve had in commissioning in your lifetime is astronomical; Some pick-ups, lots of disappointment. 

“What was the shoot about? Like… the scene, I guess.” 

Ellie nibbles at her lip, “Romance.” 

“Boooring,” You joke. Ellie doesn’t laugh, so you cough awkwardly. “You gotta come up with a new plan, I guess. It’s all about the grind mentality.” 

“You sound like a misogynist with a podcast.” 

You chuckle and she continues, “There’s no new plan. The portfolio I’m submitting is based on emotion. It’s not… complete if love isn’t somewhere in there. That’s how I see it.” 

“Speaking of see, can I?” You arch your brow, “Your portfolio, I mean.” 

“No.” She says plainly. 

“Wha— why not? You saw my paintings!” 

“They’re on the wall… in the living room. There’s no other choice but to look at them.” 

“Bro, what the fuck. You’re not the only visualist in this house! I might have some pointers you could use!” 

“I don’t need pointers from you.” Aggravation clouds her pupils. You try not to take offense to that, but it doesn’t work. 

“Why the fuck not?” You glare. 

Her tone gets louder, “Because you wouldn’t understand it! Why do you wanna help so badly, anyway!”

“I’m—“ But you don’t know what to say. Why do you want to help? Ellie squints, awaiting your answer, but nothing comes out. You’re uncomfortable; It’s suddenly not that cold in here. 

“Whatever. Forget I asked!” You rise and march to your room. Another slammed door, another pending noise complaint. 

Ellie hasn’t talked to you in days, and you’re not sure why it’s bothering you. You’ve been sending her looks throughout the entire stats lecture, but she hasn’t acknowledged you once. She’s just scribbling and tapping her ballpoint on her notebook. Her notetaking seems very intense from where you sit, her eyes scanning the board. 

Does Ellie like math? Or logistics? Or whatever statistics is considered? Curiosity pokes at you; You don’t know much about your roommate. You’ve been living together for nearly a month, and you haven’t had one valuable conversation yet. What about photography interests Ellie so much? Why does she enjoy disgusting vegetables? When did she get her tattoo? Is she actually gay or are you a dickhead for assuming? 

Your venturing thoughts makes class fly by; Another successful day of not taking useful notes! 

Ellie’s packing her run-down backpack and you watch. She’s meticulously placing her books on top of each, at least from what you can see from the big hole on the side. Her headphones are thrown on, and in one swift motion, her bag is on her shoulder and she’s heading towards the door, holding it open for everyone leaving. 

You swiftly pack and walk towards the exit. Ellie’s too distracted by her phone to notice you turn the corner to watch her. All the students vacant the room, and she lets the door shut. You follow from a distance as she moves towards the staircase, down the steps, out into the quad and onto the open field. She pauses, so you do too. 

You follow her line of vision, right at the sky. It’s pretty today: the sun’s peeking out, just barely, from underneath the dark gray clouds, rays of light highlighting various sections of the quad. 

Ellie unzips and digs in her bag, retrieving the olive-green polaroid before setting her bag down on the frosted grass. She maneuvers around the grass, trying to avoid obstruction from the trees, adjusting her stance, picking the best angle before holding her camera up. One quick flash, and she’s holding a photo of the sky. 

She shakes the picture a bit before squatting to search through her bag, pulling out a large binder and placing the photo in a laminated encasing. You can’t see any of the pictures in detail, but there must be a lot in there. That binder is thick as fuck. 

And just like that, she’s off into the cold. 

You wonder what else is in that binder. 

You’re starving. The second you get that direct deposit, you’re whipping up something fierce. Shrimp and eggplant have been calling your name for weeks; You’re ravenous for it. 

You run up to the apartment to snag a granola bar, Ellie already in the kitchen, propped against the counter eating Kraft mac and cheese. 

You shut the door behind you, “Wonderful weather we’re having, isn’t it?” 

Ellie stops chewing, eyes large and soft cheeks filled with creamy noodles. “Hm?” 

You walk to the cupboards, mouthwatering for Nature Valley, “It’s just beautiful outside! The trees, the sky! Almost pretty enough to paint, ain’t it!” 

More chewing. She just shrugs, but you’re not having it, “I wish I gotta picture!” 

“… Go take one.” 

“Oh, my fucking god,” you mutter to yourself, “Can I see the picture you took earlier?” 

“… How’d you know— “

“The details aren’t important! I was thinkiiing,” you rip open the wrapping, “if I can’t see your portfolio, I can see that giant photo book you have!” 

She glances around awkwardly, “Were you watching me earlier?” 

“… Well, yes— “

“What the fu— why?” 

“I like seeing people do shit they enjoy.” You shrug and bite your bar. Ellie isn’t looking at you, but her cheeks tint, and it makes you grin. Interesting. 

You chew and swallow, “Especially talented people.” You inch closer, just barely. “You should show me some pictures sometime… I’ll show you some of my secret creations, too. A little exchange, if you will.” 

Her fingers clench around her plastic spoon, and her breathing changes, cheeks even brighter. Her hands are very nice… They look so soft. 

“Think about it,” you say, quieter, just between the two of you, “Call it… roommate bonding.” You crunch and adjust your bag before walking towards the door. “I think it’s overdue!” You throw over your shoulder before shutting the door behind you. 

You’re not sure if Ellie likes or hates compliments. 

Closing was so hectic; you don’t make it home until one in the morning. Training rookies is probably the worst part about working in hardware; They never know where shit goes. 

You don’t feel tired, though. The drive back home is usually when your exhaustion takes over, but this ride was smooth. Sleep is going to be difficult to come by tonight. 

You unlock your front door and… push. And push. And push again. What the fuck. Something’s blocking the door. You fight with the wood until the crack is wide enough to slip through. The smell in the air is very telling as to why there’s a pile of hoodies blocking the slim opening at the bottom of the door. 

Your mouth gapes at the sight of Ellie on the couch with no pants on, blunt in her hand… blowing O’s. Her eyes are glistening and lazy when she opens them. You quickly shut the door and kick the hoodies in their original position before the scent escapes. 

“Hey,” she mutters. Goosebumps rise on your arms at her voice. 

“… Why the fuck are you chiefing in this no smoke building.” 

She stares like you’re stupid. “De-stressing.”

“Deez-fucking nuts! Ellie, we’re not gonna have a place to sleep if we get caught. Bitch ass Carol doesn’t play that shit.” You hate your landlord with every fiber of your being. The second anyone accidentally breaks a rule, she’s on their ass like grass. You can’t imagine how she’s going to react if she sees Ellie being disobedient on purpose. You’ll both be living out of your car. Fucking hag. 

Your roommate sighs and crosses her legs, boxer shorts riding up her taut thighs. Alright, okay. She pats the empty cushion next to her. 

“I'm bored.” 

“Okay, what about it.” 

She taps the cushion again. Your heartbeat spikes for some reason. “Roommate bonding.” 

You gawk. Ellie’s never been this relaxed in your presence. Her posture is incredibly comfortable, leaning back against the propped pillows, manspreading. Why is it attractive?

So, you drop your bag and unzip your puffer before plopping down next to her. She says nothing, just extends the lit herb to you. You look between her and the big B. “That’s a fat doinker.” 

“… Right.” Ellie puffs once more before attempting to share. 

You push her cold hand back softly, “I don’t smoke.” 

“Okay.” One last long pull from her, and she’s putting out the grass on the ashtray. “Do you wanna play checkers?” She exhales around smoke clouds, cold air blowing in from the barely cracked window. 

“… What.” 

“I said do you wanna play checke— “ 

“Are you a lesbian?” 

Your eyes widen at your own question. Interrogation? Fuck. Ellie’s looking around the warm space blankly as if she’s trying to register what the fuck you just said. You’re a fucking asshole. 

“E-Ellie, I’m sorry, I dunno why I asked— “

“Can you not tell.” 

“Well, yeah.” You stutter, “… But I thought it was like… fucked up to assume based on uh, appearances, or whatever. I don’t have good gay-dar, so.” 

“I’ve been called a carpet muncher since I was eight.” 

“… Fuck, really?” She nods, face flat. Your fist extends, silently asking for knuckles, “Me too! That’s what’s up.” 

“I almost killed myself.”

Your fist drops with your expression. “Oh… uh, damn… Sorry… I’m glad you didn’t, though, real shit.” 

“What does love feel like?” 

This conversation is giving you whiplash. “Are you one of those fake-deep potheads? Like, you believe in flat earth and all that other bullshit?” 

Ellie blinks dumbly, “Uhh… I don’t think so…” 

“Why do you ask?” 

Ellie points at the wall, at one of your paintings. Two women laying on a bed of grass, completely at peace, surrounded by colorful flowers and butterflies. A small smile spreads across your face, recalling how excited you were to show your first girlfriend what you made for her birthday. 

“Love feels like you're getting shot… but not in a bad way.” You ramble. “It’s like… like, fuck I’m really gonna die without this person next to me type shit.” You think back to when you made the painting on the wall, the memories of your younger self so deeply infatuated with another person for the first time. It felt eternal back then, souls interconnected. 

But then your eyes travel to the next painting, right below the latter. Complete void, no color, no life, just darkness, and your expression falls. The faceless girl trapped in the center of madness is calm, though, accepting her doom with grace. 

“That makes it worse, though…” You think of Dina and how you fought. How nasty it got. How disgusted she seemed with your presence. You almost want to cry as you relive it. “When they leave… something inside you really does die. That space never really gets filled again. You’re just kinda… stuck with a hole until you croak over.” 

“What if they don’t leave?” 

They all leave. “… I’m not sure yet.” 

Ellie hums and it goes quiet for a moment. You wonder what she’s thinking about. 

“Are you a lesbian?” Your roommate throws back at you. You laugh, “Are you asking if I eat coochie?” 

Ellie nods with a giggle. You stiffen; This is the first time you’ve heard her laugh. The hairs on your arms stand upright at the sound. 

“As a matter of fact, I do!” Ellie laughs harder, head resting against the back of the couch. You watch the apple of her cheeks heighten. But then the wind blows harder than normal and they drop. She's blank again. “The heater…” 

“What about it?” 

“It’s broken…” 

Fuck. “Did you put in a maintenance request?” Her head shakes. 

“Uh… why not?” 

“Because I heard you masturbating and forgot.” 

Your heart, stomach, pride is at your feet, “… What did you just say.” 

Ellie finally looks at you, eyes doe-like, guilt swimming in them. “I’m… I’m sorry! I was sleeping and I woke up to pee but I couldn’t because you were— “

“Ellie— “

“It kept… buzzing, and I couldn’t move! I kept asking

myself how is her stamina this fucking good! It didn’t turn off until like… an hour later! I almost pissed in my bed— “

Your body heats at her confession; She thought about your stamina? You place a hand on her shoulder to ease her, and she stops. “It’s okay. I just… Yeah, this is awkward… We gotta submit that request before that next blizzard or we’re fucked.” 

Ellie mutters in agreement, but she’s not listening. She’s eyeing your fingers, the ones resting on her shirt. If you move your thumb an inch, you’ll touch her collarbone. 

“We, um… We can send it in the morning…” She whispers okay, and your fingers curl around the fabric. A sharp inhale from her, and you sigh. Her warm breath is hitting your wrist and you’re trying not to squirm. You watch her chest rise and fall at a steady pace, eyes flicking between yours and your hand. 

You watch her and she watches you, hand inching up until you’re tracing the warm skin under her tee. Your nail scratches her collarbone, just barely, and the muscles in her thigh jerk. Nope. Not happening. You pull away and stand. 

“This was… you’re funny.” You stare at your feet; You never took your shoes off. “Uh… bye.” 

“Bye.” Her voice is flat. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you fucked up. 

Your shoes go flying and you rush to your room. You’re not sure if you slammed the door or not; The pounding in your ears is too loud. 

Ellie fucked up. She knows she did. 

I heard you masturbating and forgot? You left over an hour ago, and she’s still replaying that moment in her mind. What the fuck was she thinking? She wants to peel her skin off and her stomach is in knots. The ghost of your hand is still on her. She was freezing before you came home, and now she’s overheating. 

Ellie thinks she’s done a good job of acting normally around you after that night. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about it. All the time. 

She hates how, every night since it happened, she listens for you. When you come home in the wee hours of the night, the devil convinces her that you’re aching and desperate, dripping and ready to get yourself to the peak you crave. You’ve been working so hard; You deserve to wind down. 

It’s sick, she knows. She masks it well, but every time you're home, she’s hot. Roommate bonding, you’d said. Why did you say it like that, though? You sounded so alluring, like a siren preparing for a kill. 

Maybe she’s reading into it too much. You're a flirt and you’re good at it… 

It’s either hot or cold with you. Compliments, or cursing. Admiration or judgment. There’s no middle ground, and it’s driving her crazy. 

Why did you have to touch her? You could’ve kept your distance like you’ve been doing, like you did in the kitchen. You gave her a chance to run at arm's length. 

Ellie’s thoughts are racing; She needs to smoke again, but she’s too distracted to spark. That ache between her thighs is overpowering. 

Her eyes travel over the painting that captured her attention a few weeks ago. A small self portrait of you. She commends your attention to detail, but still, you’re so gorgeous in person; There’s no comparison. 

Two deep breaths, and her hand is shoved in her boxers, fingers slippery in seconds. She keeps her eyes glued to the painting as she rubs her clit in quick circles, the bud increasing her sensitivity. 

It’s like the painting moves with every squeeze of her walls: she can almost see your animated eyes rolling into your skull, your pink tongue out, drool dripping down your chin. And your voice… It’s tantalizing when you want something. She can almost hear you now: it’s so good, right there, I love when you touch me like that. 

Fuck, she wants your hands on her. Everywhere. Anywhere you want. She’s breathing so loud; She hopes you dozed off by now, even in your noticeably restless state. 

But what if you’re not? What if you forgot something in the living room, or need a drink of water before bed, and you walk in and see the mess you make her? Her hand moves faster at the thought of you angry, disappointed that she couldn’t keep her hands to herself. She’ll never say, but something wicked happens in her underwear when you're fuming. She likes how expressive your eyes are. 

Her free hand flies over her mouth as her stomach tightens, the beats in her clit and heart synced. She's so close. A few seconds, and she groans into her hand, the walls melting around her when it finally crashes. Tears jerk in her eyes as she rubs herself through it, riding it out for as long as she can. 

The hand on her mouth slides under her shirt, cold fingers prodding her nipple as her orgasm descends. She gasps into the cold air, trying to catch her breath. She palms her clit and her walls twitch. She tiredly plops onto the couch, hand still in her underwear, eyes glued to your portrait, scaling the wall until she revisits the depiction of you and your first girlfriend. 

The idea Ellie’s been sitting on for the last few days crashes down on her again. You’re soft, despite what others may say. You seem like a lover. 

It’s Friday. Rent is due. Fuck. 

You just got paid, and now more than half of your earnings is in your landlord's pocket. You haven’t even been grocery shopping yet. 

Ellie has, apparently. It smells so good in the kitchen. You take back whatever you said about her and her cheffing skills. That soup was delicious; You secretly hope she cooks more. She can get down… a little bit. 

You wipe the tired from your eyes and make way to the kitchen, and your jaw drops, stunned in your spot by the fridge. Empty grocery bags are stacked on the counter, and Ellie’s frying shrimp and eggplant. 

“Hi… you didn’t eat last night. I heard you talking about egg— “

Your whimper, followed by several guttural sobs interrupt her greeting, hand flying over your mouth. Ellie simply stands by the counter with wide eyes, fork in hand. 

Ellie thinks you’ve stopped crying, “Uh… I just wante— “

More loud sobs from you. Snot dribbles down from your nose and Ellie cringes, tearing a piece of paper towel and handing it to you. You take it graciously and blow your nose. 

“This is,” sob “the best thing a-anyone,” sniffle… sob “has ever done f-for me.”

Ellie just nods and flips the eggplant. You can’t control yourself, arms wrapping around her waist, sobbing into her back. 

“I, um… Consider it a peace offering, I guess.” 

“I take back,” heave “I take back whatever dumb shit I said about you before you moved in,” heave “You’re so… fuck you, Ellie!” You hug her tighter. 

“Queers gotta stick together.” She mumbles. 

“Like wet pussy lips!” You wail, fat tears seeping into her t-shirt. She snickers to herself, “Get a plate.” 

You sniffle all the way to the cupboards and set the tiny table. 

Chef Butch. That’s Ellie’s new name around these parts. 

For someone who supposedly “hates eggplant”, she seasoned and fried the fuck out of it. Get this bitch on the Food Network!

You’re full and energized before leaving the house for once. You don’t even need your morning coffee. 

“Hey, uh… can I ask you something?” Ellie calls from the table.

You pause dish scrubbing to look at her, “Mhm.” 

“It’s kinda… a big deal.” She mutters, eyes flickering nervously. 

“… Should I sit down, or?”

“It’s not bad. It’s just… I don’t know.” 

You rinse your hands and set the last plate on the rack to dry. You grab a clean towelette and sit across from her. Ellie can’t meet your eyes and her cheeks are fiery. You smirk. 

“Need help with something?” 

Her head bobs, eyes glued to the table. 

“Then ask me.” You lean closer. Ellie whispers your name. A deep sigh from her, lips parting around her question. 

“Do you wanna model for my portfolio— “

“Of course I’ll help you send nudes— “

Confusion paints her face, “What.”

“…What.” 

“What did you just say.” 

“Nothing.” You shrug, face burning. 

“You can say no. It’s not that serious.” That guarded twinge in Ellie’s voice has returned. You don’t like it. 

“You think I’m pretty?” You tease with a pout. 

“What.” 

“You think I’m sooo hot and sexy that you’re gonna make me the star of your— “

Ellie blushes, “You’re not the… star of anyth— “

Your hands wave excitedly, “I’m so honored! I’d love to! When do we start!” 

Ellie sighs, massaging her temples, “Do you have work on Sunday?” 

“Not anymore!” You do a little dance in your seat, “What am I gonna be doing in the pics, o ye camera master?” Her ears are so red. Why is she so fucking nervous? You’ve already accepted! 

“Just look like you’re in love.” 

“… Oh.” 

Ellie grimaces at your tone, “Listen, I only have two weeks to finish this submission. I haven’t had any luck finding people to help me out!” 

You pause, “Is this why you buttered me up with a buss down plate?” 

“… Would you hate me if I said yes?” 

“Fuck, Ellie— “

“I’m desperate!” She exclaims, “But I also don’t wanna just ask anybody! I need the photos to be believable! And you kinda… you kinda get it!” Ellie points to the painting of you and your first love. 

The silence is thick as you explore her face. Her forestry-filled eyes are nervous, but there’s a glimmer of hope in her pupils. You like it; Her orbs look brighter. Greener somehow.

“I wanna see it, then.” 

“See what?” 

“Your big ass binder… and your portfolio!” 

Her eyes roll. “Pick one.” 

“Wooow, you’re really gonna ruin another opportunity for roommate bonding? That’s wild. Alright.” 

“Pick one.” She’s stern with her demand… You like that, too. 

You smirk. “Show me your portfolio.” 

She crosses her arms over her chest. “You see it when it’s finished. After the pictures are done. Take it or leave it.” 

“Okay, damn,” You give up, “So… what do I gotta do for prep?” 

“Not much right now. I have to set up my equipment and all that…” She glances around the living room, “we’ll talk about the rest later.” 

“‘Kay.” You twiddle your fingers together before the biggest light bulb shines over your head. 

“I also get 40% of the earnings— “

“Fuck no.” She says with a small grin. You pout. 

You knew something was wrong when Abby randomly invited you over to study… on a Saturday night. You don’t know how she’s a STEM major; You haven’t seen her with a book since you’ve met her! 

The second she opened her door, something was off. It’s been days since you’ve seen her and she barely reacted to the grilled cheese you brought. Her answers have been curt and she’s not laughing at any of your jokes. Your Cheetos are doing a great job at soothing your anxiety. You want to comfort your friend with whatever’s bothering her, but you’re not sure how. 

So, you talk. And talk. And talk about Ellie.

“I’m not gonna lie,” You crunch, comfortable on Abby’s beanbag. “I’m kinda excited! I’ve never done a photoshoot before.” 

Abby shrugs from her work desk, voice monotone, “I mean, just be mindful. It’s obviously not a game for her so you needa take it seriously.” 

Your brows furrow, “What do you mean?” 

“Your roommate slash crush— “

Your head shakes, “I don’t have a crush— “

“Slash crush,” Your friend emphasizes, “asked you to be a part of probably one of the biggest creations of her life. If that photo book or whatever is as important as you say, it’s not just a “photoshoot” for her.” 

… Nah, you’re still confused. 

Abby scoffs, “A photoshoot about romance and you’re her only model, making you breakfast, and whatever else she’s done! How much does she have to spell it out for you?” 

“I don’t understand why you’re yelling!”

“I’m not fucking yelling! I’m watching out for you before you do something you regret!” 

You sit up straighter, “And what does that mean!”

“What have you been saying this entire time? I don’t wanna live with someone I fucked!” She mocks, “It seems like y’all are pretty close to that.” 

You stare pensively, “We haven’t fucked and we’re not going to! You’re doing the fucking most!” 

“Yeah, whatever.” She continues to scribble. 

“Abby… what’s wrong?” You clumsily stand from the bean bag. “I’m so con— “

“You wanna know what’s wrong?” She snaps, pen slamming on the desk. “Every time we see each other, you talk about her! I’m sick of hearing about… whatever the fuck you have going on at home, quite frankly! We can’t even joke around because you’re so pressed about someone you don’t even like!” 

You’re going to cry; You can feel it. Abby’s never been this upset with you, “Why did you wait so long to tell me this? I would’ve stopped coming to you a long time ago!” 

“Because I cared and didn’t want you to feel by yourself while Maya’s away! That’s why! But now, it’s like…” 

A tired sigh from her and she gives up, hand waving dismissively, “Talking about this shit is pointless. I’m going to bed. Shut the door behind you.” Abby rises and brushes past you, switching her lamp off and climbing into her warm bed. You allow your tears to fall as you gather your belongings, gently shutting her door behind you and attacking your face with your sleeve. You hate crying in public. 

The elevator ride feels much longer than it should’ve been as you weep. The doors shutter open, and you can see the weather is not on your side. It’s pelting bullets outside; You knew you shouldn’t have walked. 

“You got a ride?” 

You look over at the security guard perched behind the front desk. Fuck all feds, but Stanley’s cool. You shake your head. 

“You can’t walk home in that. Driving is also dangerous but,” He shrugs, and you sigh. You pull your phone out of your pocket. 

“Hey, Siri… Call Chef Butch…” 

“CALLING CHEF BUTCH.” 

Stanley’s warm laughter eases your shoulders. 

DING!

You unlock your phone and smile at Ellie’s text, rising from your chair. 

“Alright, Stan. Pray I don’t turn into Frosty out there,” You throw over your shoulder. 

He laughs, opening the heavy door for you, “I will! Get home safely!” You throw your hood over your beanie, easing past him and nearly being blown away by the fucking wind. How did Ellie drive in this shit!

You somehow manage to follow the view of your car, pounding on the passenger window to get Ellie to unlock it. You miss your step on the curb and fall face first into the seat. You hear Ellie’s laughter. 

“You alright?” 

“Yup! Fucking peachy, thanks!” You stumble in and slam the door with the wind, out of breath, body melting from the heat. “You couldn’t have parked a little closer?” 

“… No.” 

You stare at her through the snow in your lashes, “Ellie, take us home, please. I’m annoyed and going through a fucking breakdown, like I can’t be outside right now. I’m gonna pass out!”

“… You wanna talk about it?” 

“No.” You spit. 

“Alright.” She puts the car in drive, but her foot is still pressed on the brake. 

“I just can’t believe this shit right now!” You ramble anyway. “You think you know a person, like, fuck! This is stupid!” You punch the glove compartment. 

“… What happ— “

“Like, fuck! Fuuuck! Like what the fuck!” 

You’re screaming your head off and Ellie’s just watching, face flat as ever. It makes you scream louder. But your wails pause when your eyes flicker downward. Veiny hands clenched around the steering wheel. Your screams suddenly sound like whimpers. When’s the last time you had sex?

Is it sad that the thought of Ellie choking you out is easing your meltdown? This is the worst day ever! 

“I’m gonna rip my fucking face off— “

“Why're you staring at my hands like that?”

“What the fuck, I’m not staring. Be quiet.” 

Your roommate grins like a fox, “Okay.” 

The car’s moving and so are your eyes, all over Ellie, wherever they can reach. You’re pissed and horny and you need a shot. 

“You ever get the urge to strangle the fuck outta someone?”

“Mhm.” 

You ponder, “How does it feel to smoke weed?” 

She shrugs, “It feels good.”

“How good? Scale of one to ten.” 

“… Thirteen.”

“Better than sex?” You ask quietly. Your brain is elsewhere, locked on the bulging blue veins in her hand, following the lines through her hoodie. 

She ponders, “… Yes.” 

“You’re biased, though. I can’t trust you.” 

“Stop staring at my hands like that.” Her low voice is like a kick in your back, spine slightly arching in your chair. You’re glad she’s looking at the road; She’s making you go into heat and she doesn’t need to see it. Maybe Abby was right about you being a fucking hypocrite. 

“Or what?” Your tone is icy, and she licks her lips. 

“I’ll pull over.” 

You shudder at her boldness, “Pull over.” 

Your car jerks to a stop and you jolt forward, eyes still glued onto Ellie’s mouth. One kiss… It isn’t sex. It’s just kissing; Who doesn’t love kissing? You’re alone and warm and it’s gorgeous outside. It would be just a kiss. Just one, just one. 

Ellie’s staring at you, eyes reminiscent of the storm outside. Flurrying and dark. Her tongue swipes over her lips again, and your gut swirls. “Stop staring at my hands.” You suck your bottom lip in your mouth when her breath hits it. She’s leaning forward and so are you. Just one kiss, that’s all you need. 

Your pussy’s talking and she’s loud… Literally meowing for her. 

“Is that a fucking cat?” Ellie whispers, nose brushing yours… She can hear that? How horny are you? 

“Dude, that’s a cat! There’s a cat right there!” Her gasps shock you, and you peer out the window, finding a small, dark spot in gusts of white snow. There is a cat! 

“Oh, my fucking god! Ellie, what the fuck—“ You’re pushing the door open and she grabs your arm. 

“Wait, you’re gonna fucking fall— “

“We can’t leave her, she’s gonna die out here!” You rush out in seconds and you’re slipping like a cartoon character on a banana. You’re kissing the air to lure the kitty over, but she just cries. She’s probably starving! 

“C’mere, baby, c’mon!” You hear Ellie muttering curses from behind you. After almost busting your face on icy concrete, you’re finally close enough to scoop up the shivering ball of fur, and you’re sobbing as you wrap your scarf around her tiny body. 

“Ellie,” you choke, “We ca—can’t leave h-her— “

“Okay, okay, stop crying, where is she?” You hold up the bundled fabric and Ellie gently takes her, shoving her in her hoodie before grabbing your wrist and guiding you to the car. Ellie hops in the driver's seat, the car filled with desperate meows and your hysterical sobs. 

Ellie cranks the heat and holds the wrapped furball, softly cooing at her. 

“Where’s your mama, hm?” 

Meow! 

“No mama?” 

Meow! Meow!

You’re wailing, “She’s a fucking or—orphan— “

“Can you be quiet.” Ellie snaps. 

“O—“you sniffle harshly, “Ok—okay— “

“Hold her, I gotta drive. We’re going to Petco.” Ellie’s zooming down the street, whipping and swerving. You’re almost positive she ran a red light. 

“I know you don’t like small animals, but c-can we keep her, please— “

Ellie’s lip curls, “It’s not that I don’t… not like them—” She rambles on, but you’re so focused on the baby in front of you. Poor thing looks so tired. What if she’s sick? Oh God, she would’ve froze to death if you didn’t stop—

You blabber to her between choked whimpers, “I love you so much, we’re gonna get you safe, don’t worry— “

“Oh, my fucking god,” Ellie sighs softly beside you. 

Pheromones will have to wait. You’re a mother now. 

After your emergency pet escapade, you and Ellie sneak the cat past the complex security and into your apartment. If anyone finds out — if Carol finds out — you’re fucked… and unhoused. 

Small meows are filling your ears. Your baby’s full, at least. Poor thing was horking down minced tuna in the car. Her teeth are so small and cute. She looks like she’s going to doze off soon. 

You watch as Ellie sets up her little area in the living room… Right next to her fucking photography set up when the fuck did she do that—

The corner of the living room is fully decked with maroon and ebony backdrops, Ellie’s sticker-littered camera resting proudly on its stand. There’s a… big ass umbrella-looking thing towering over the setup and a stool on the dark floor cover. There’s a small, white briefcase on it, tied down with a padlock. It’s either a gun or her portfolio. 

“Bring her over here.” 

Your gawking gets cut short as you cradle kitty over to Ellie, handing her over so she can lay her on the small, paw-shaped bed. She’s purring; Your heart’s melting. 

“I see you haven’t changed your mind.” 

Ellie’s tucking your baby in, “About?” She hums.

“The shoot.” You whisper. 

“Why would I?” She faces you and stands. You shrug nonchalantly, but your mind’s racing. You probably found someone worthy of doing it. 

Ellie inches closer, looking down at you. “Consider it roommate bonding… Featuring adopted cat child.” 

You giggle. She's staring at your smile, all over your face. Into your eyes. Yours flicker down to her mouth. Either you're hallucinating, or she’s leaning closer. One kiss won’t hurt. 

“Um…” She whispers, gaze dropping to the floor. “Earlier I was gonna… say something.” 

“What is it?” 

She shrugs, “… I forgot.” 

“Okay.” You’re whispering now. She’s staring at your mouth. Her eyes are hypnotizing; There's a universe in them. A forest with trees that grow for eternities, miles and miles of green meadows. 

“You’re staring.” She mutters. 

“So are you.” 

Ellie wants to say something. You can see it. But she doesn’t, and neither do you. “Gotta get up early… I’ll see you tomorrow?” Her voice cracks. 

You’re cheesing and your hearts in your throat. “Yes. See you tomorrow.” 

One last toothy grin, she’s gone into her room, door shutting softly for the first time. You exhale like you’ve been holding your breath, already missing her presence. 

You’re giddy when you finally climb into bed. You can’t help but think that Ellie is, too. 

longest taglist ive ever had i am very sorry if i forgot somebody pls dont hate me i am neurodivergent : @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane @muthafuckingstargirl @mina-281 @yuckyfucky @aimformyheartt @elstoy @skylerwhitwyo @sawaagyapong @nil-eena @dewylittlestars @sakiigami @feelsoseencantdream @ellieslittlegf @fictionalgap @liabadoobee @whooknooows @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @qtgaslighter @p4ison1vy @eviestevie-14 @weaselot @elliewbbg @elsmissingfingers @lmaoo-spiderman @lyssaspengler @elliewilliamsmunch @gummydummykj @kiwikeysblog @juniorsfav @louleele @alittlextrahoney @tohoko @333-starhotline @girlkissersco @saplingkoi @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @elliew-illiamsmissingfingers @diddiqueen @alexisvs-world @mostlyhornyandsad @lolaaa699999 @elsblunt @niyahlovesu

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[randombush3]

you're not sorry to go

ona batlle x reader

summary: ona and you are best friends, but it's a bit more complicated than that

words: 4.5k

notes: this one is based on true events x

also let's ignore the result of my poll because i want the next part to have smut and it wasn't fitting with the vibe of this part

oh and the title is a quote from 'this side of paradise' by f. scott fitzgerald

January, nine years ago. 

Nothing about today has been out of the ordinary. 

The weekend is starting, winter drags on, and Ona is all set to train later on in the evening, provided you confirm whether or not you are willing to accompany her to the local pitch. 

Barcelona B usually allows for Fridays off, but Ona isn’t stupid. No one becomes the greatest footballer of all time by not playing more. School is beginning to bore Ona to death, and she knows that she wants what she always has: to go professional. 

“I have a plan,” she tells you confidently, glad you don’t mind sitting on the uneven, grassy sideline as she sets up her cones with determination. You hold the ball between your hands, though Ona is amused by how foreign it looks to you, and you seem to be holding her prized possession hostage so that she spills. “It sounds simple and obvious out loud, but it’s that I am going to play for Barça while you go to the university. You can introduce me to your smart friends so I can meet my wife, and you’ll have all the boys after you anyway so–” 

“Ona.” Her monologue has led her eyes to the ground, but your voice makes her head jerk upwards, not needing much authority to get her to look at you. “I’ve actually had a… realisation, of sorts,” you say with a bashful grin, chin jutting out the way it does when you are gearing up to tell her something that no one else will get to know. “Your cousin is really pretty.” 

“I’ll tell her you said that.” It’s a nice thing to say, and you are partly aware that Ona’s cousin knows who you are because she doesn’t shut up about you ever, but you can’t help the frustration that begins to bubble up inside of you.

“No, Ona,” you try again, “she’s really pretty. Like, I would kiss her.” 

Ona frowns, then. “Don’t be one of those.” She means the girls who experiment, who toe the line of liking girls but don’t, not really. She has been warned about them by her older teammates, the ones who go out for drinks and kiss girls in clubs. The budding footballer really admires them, because their advice is always good and she gets to explore her sexuality without feeling like a creep. No one in Vilassar de Mar cares much that Ona does like girls, but it doesn’t stop her from feeling judged all the same. 

You are one of her best friends, but Ona isn’t sure she can forgive you if you become someone like that. 

“I’m not! I wouldn’t do that.” Your offence is suspicious, and you have been so caught up in destroying her worries that the ball has been dropped and is now rolling towards Ona’s feet, where it is instinctively flicked upwards and caught. “I wouldn’t, Oni, because I know it’s unfair to you guys.” 

“But you want to kiss my cousin? That makes you interested in girls in general too, you know.” 

You bite your lip. 

“Ona, I think I’m gay.” 

The ball is dropped, along with her jaw, and you shift uncomfortably in your seated position, not enjoying how big of a deal she is making this out to be. 

People realise that they’re gay all the time! Why should it be any different for you? 

“Oh,” is all Ona can manage to breathe out, wondering what to do next. Although your friendship cracks the padlocks of most secrets, there is one that hasn’t ever been shared. One that now means substantially more than it did five minutes ago. 

“Say something, please,” you groan in mock annoyance, moving aside your textbooks so that you can grab Ona’s hand and pull her down on top of you. She is much stronger – she trains every day – but something about your skin touching hers injects a surge of patheticness into her well-earned muscles, and she falls, of course she does, because she always falls for you. 

…

A year passes. 

You kiss Ona’s cousin, as intended, and Ona knows the breakup is going to be rough but nothing prepares her for when it comes. 

She’s conflicted, and she’s older now. No longer left behind by her teammates, Ona gets to go out with them when they don’t have football; she gets to talk to the girls about their sex lives, she gets to be involved in it all. She has met Alexia Putellas and been treated like an equal, and she made out with her fourth ever girl last week, this time progressing past tongues and confidently letting her hands roam. 

Ona would say that she has learnt a lot since you dropped your nuclear missile, and she has managed to forget the initial hope she had felt. The secret had been near-faded. 

Until you are calling her, sending her a text when she doesn’t reach her phone quick enough.

‘Ona, I really need you.’ 

She hears nothing from her cousin – they were closer when they were younger – and that, she reasons, is why she is by your side in an instant, meeting you at the windy beach you go to when you are sad, hair damp from running and eyes a little wide as she tries to wake herself up. 

“She said she can’t do it anymore,” you whisper, voice cracking under the strain your sobs had put on it. “She said that she really likes me but that it’s not enough, and she doesn’t want to break my heart but she knows she has to.” 

Ona doesn’t get a chance to respond, because you have flung yourself into her chest before she can think of the right words to say. 

Your shoulders shake as you cry, devastating howling joining the whistles of the wind and the thrash of the waves. The sand is unsteady beneath your feet and you stumble, but Ona holds you firmly, as though she has only ever trained to hold you up. Though you feel her biceps, hard and significantly larger than the last time she had held you this way, you are too caught up in your first heartbreak to acknowledge the tiny, tiny spark between you. 

As you cry and cry and cry, Ona can’t help but feel a little bitter towards her cousin. Clearly, your affection wasn’t false and, though it was working towards the severance of your friendship, you actually cared quite a lot for her. 

Ona chooses to abstain from her jealousy because she is embarrassed that it is possible. 

She is there for you the next day, ensuring you have eaten and allowing you to sleep, but the sun soon sets and Ona vows one thing to herself: she will not take advantage of it. 

“I’m going home,” you mumble when you wake from your restless nap, rolling over into the empty space in your best friend’s bed. The sheets there are cold and unused. Ona must not have moved a muscle since you fell asleep. “My parents must be a little confused, and we have people coming over for dinner. Thank you for looking after me.” 

“No problem.” Ona nods and you awkwardly stand up. “I think I’m going out with the team tonight, but don’t hesitate to call me if… Well, if you feel sad again.” 

“It’s going to feel shit with or without you.” 

You are trying to distance her, to tell her that she can have fun. It might be an issue that your friendship only seems to work when the two of you discuss your recent conquests or latest flings, but it is not one that either of you wants to address for now. 

“I’m just making sure you know I’m here,” she defends indignantly, rolling her eyes at the glimpse of your happier self making its return. 

“Are you going to be drunk?” Your question is pointed and you should really cross your arms and tap your foot impatiently to match your tone. “Don’t you have training tomorrow?” 

“Maybe, and not tomorrow, no. I’ve been asked to join the first team the day after so they’ve given me an alternative rest day.” 

“Ona, if you get drunk, you won’t be there for me at all. You’ll have your tongue down some poor, poor girl’s throat and your phone will be dead.” You laugh from experience, having grown accustomed to how she behaves under the influence. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I swear that alcohol is what fuels your hormones. I’m not going to burden you with my fucking pathetic crying, and, well, you know me, I’ll just find a boy to talk to. I am going to be fine.” 

No one in the room is convinced. 

You swat the air between you two, telling her to get on with getting ready. “Now, enjoy your night, and tell me all about it tomorrow morning!” 

Ona wonders if you are over-compensating by insisting to hear about whoever she has gotten off with, but you are practically flying out the door the minute you have said goodbye to her family and she is stumbling around her room trying to find a clean bra. Life goes on. 

If time did not tick on its own, one of you would task yourselves with turning the hands of the clock manually. 

You try to recover from how much it fucking kills to have a girl break your heart by reminding yourself of your worth in the best way possible: male attention. They hound you, but you enjoy it. You crave it, most of the time, even if the feelings are never quite believably reciprocated. 

It annoys Ona to no end, the way you play with the boys chasing after you. She hates the push and pull, fed-up with the constant complaining from your end. Often, because Ona speaks her mind when she can, she tells you that it’s not fair on the ones who hand their hearts to you only to watch you pierce through them with sharp, I-was-never-a-lesbian nails. 

You don’t talk about her cousin. At least, not to Ona because you have been informed by some other friend that blood is thicker than water.

Or maybe it’s because Ona begins to avoid you, begins to spend more time with her teammates, who don’t hide their sexuality and who like the things she likes. (Once, in a hateful frenzy, Ona thinks to herself that the only thing the two of you have in common nowadays is that she likes you and you like you too.) 

“What happened to your best friend?” Laia Aleixandri asks thoughtfully once after training. Ona is helping her collect the water bottles the other girls had left lying around on the pitch. There have been more injuries than what’s comfortable within the first team, and maybe some of the reserves have forgotten that they are not yet professionals. “You’ve stopped talking about her.” 

“We’ve fallen out,” Ona answers, settling on that because she doesn’t know how else to describe the shift in your relationship. 

“Over what?” comes Laia’s obvious sequential question, more a due dalliance than genuine interest. Laia is one of those girls who plays to play and can sometimes be too busy to spend time with the team outside of training. Because of this, she is largely unaware of Ona’s growing reputation within the squad. As Ona has grown up, her confidence has increased. Girls like that, and they are in plentiful supply to her. She no longer needs to be drunk, but something almost certainly occurs if she is. 

“She dated my cousin and, I don’t know, the way she acted in the fall-out was horrible. She likes girls, I know she likes girls, but I think she has been scarred and her ego has been bruised. No boy has ever made her cry like that, and I think she’s traumatised. And it’s valid! I understand, completely and totally, but she is acting as though she never had a thing with my cousin and it’s annoying. It’s as if being gay is a joke to her.”

Laia senses that Ona’s not done, and she is correct to think so. 

The next wave is this: “Laia, I really don’t agree with it, and it is hurting me. It hurts to see my cousin be messed around by a straight girl, it hurts to see my best friend hate part of herself, and it hurts me because, well, it just– it just does! I can’t explain it.” She can; she doesn’t want to. Her secret is still heavily guarded and it is going to take more than Laia asking about you to get her to confess. “I just want peace for everyone involved,” she says after taking a deep, diplomatic breath. 

“Peace,” Laia repeats with a giggle. “Ona, the things I have heard about you are the opposite of ‘peace’. Aita’s been keeping me in the loop, and she says that–” 

“Okay, Laia, I don’t need a lecture.” 

What probably would have been very helpful for Ona to know is lost to the devastating final blow of her eye-roll as she jogs to the water cooler to return the bottles and head home. 

…

The reconciliation of a decade-old friendship is fast and natural. Things do not quite go back to normal, and the two of you are not as close as before, but your group of friends at school breathe out a collective sigh of relief when the ice thaws and Ona starts to turn up to their gatherings instead of the ones held by her beloved blaugranas. 

It’s a camping trip. 

Their first year of bach has ended, and someone – Ona doesn’t know who – has suggested a camping trip because her grandfather’s brother owns a farm and the farm has a field and the field is far-removed enough for the smell of cigarettes and red-label whiskey to dissolve before reaching the house. 

“Are we really going?” Ona asks, making you all laugh as you haul your bags and tents along the tractor path. 

“I do think we should’ve gotten in the tractor,” you agree. Ona nods at you, thanking you for your support. 

Everyone else says it’s good fitness, and then hurls insults at Ona for the remainder of the trek because she should be the last to complain if she is going to become a professional athlete. 

It’s not as far as it seems, and the tents are set up quickly, along with some chairs, a foldable table, and a hefty stash of various bottles of alcohol. 

You start smoking the minute someone flashes their lighter, and Ona uses that as a reason to stay on the other side of the small campsite for a good hour or so. 

She stays away from you no matter how much you stare, but you watch her all the same. 

The boys you talk to are not satisfying. Some may have innocent intentions but the majority don’t, and you know that you are pretty but you are not shallow like that. You don’t even meet the boys half the time unless they corner you at school and demand a slot of your in-person attention.

The boys you talk to explain football and the gym and why they have to play FIFA until the sun rises because it will definitely help Barcelona win on the weekend. They take you for an idiot, and they hardly acknowledge that your best friend (sort of) plays for their darling club so of course you know the rules and the positions. You know that Ona is a defender, and that she is good at it. You don’t want to be patronised and you don’t care about this kind of thing unless it involves Ona. 

Therein lies the issue, actually. 

You don’t care about much unless it involves Ona. Ona, who sways to the music bursting out from the speakers just as stiffly as she always has, not exactly blessed with dancing talent but not for lack of trying. Ona, who declines alcohol tonight because she is following a summer strength and conditioning programme with the hopes of playing in the first team’s preseason matches. Ona, who looks beautiful. Always. 

Smoke billows from your cigarette, right towards the point of your focus, and, suddenly, doe-like eyes are staring back at you with a small, small smirk. She waves, as if to say that she has caught you, and you lean back on the camping chair you are slouched in, pretending to laugh at whatever your friend has just said beside you.

Later, when everyone else is knocked out from the bad quality of the whiskey, snoring comfortably in the other tents, Ona and you kiss. And once you start kissing, you don’t stop. 

Ona is good at this, you assume, because she knows exactly what to do. Contrary to popular belief, you are far more active in theory than in practice, and she surprises you a little bit. Or maybe she doesn’t, because it’s Ona and Ona is good at everything. 

You strive to match her, and you do by the time you finish school. 

Sporadic, non-committal, and in complete disregard for your friendship, the arrangement of hooking up when you feel like it sees you out of Catalonia, with Ona naturally in tow. 

Madrid CFF is happy to have her, and you quite enjoy the challenge of the Spanish capital. It’s not Barcelona, it’s not ideal, but change is good and you need space to explore who you are without watchful eyes and nosy gossipers. 

Homophobia isn’t quite a thing in your family. Your parents are not radically against gay people. In fact, you’d say they are relatively supportive. However, that doesn’t stop you from feeling some discomfort. You lived through Ona’s struggle to come out, and her parents are ever more care-free than yours. 

Madrid is a brand-new place, and word about how you are doing is easily controlled. Updates come from either you or Ona, and that means there is a filter easily applied to all anecdotes. 

Your friends know about the sex, more or less. They know, they don’t approve, but they let you guys sort it out yourselves because everyone agrees that that is just how you and Ona are. They won’t understand it and they have given up on trying to.

Both of you make half-hearted efforts to separate the arrangement from your friendship. You don’t talk much afterwards until the other has left the realm of I-am-in-love-with-you. It’s nice to be in Madrid together, but you find different social circles soon enough and then you are reaching out more for sex than friendly activities and… You stop sleeping with each other upon the footballer’s request. She wants to focus on her career, on her success. She tells you over the phone because she cannot bring herself to end whatever occurred over the last two years in person, knowing that she’d take back her decision in a heartbeat. Ona really, really likes football, and she knows that she has to become obsessed with it to get to the top; more obsessed than she is now. How can she do that if you are distracting her? 

You’re disappointed, but you respect her wishes. 

Girls in Madrid stop seeming as shiny. The world is a bit duller, because although there had been no exclusivity between you and your best friend, there had always been that guarantee that the other would be ready and waiting. Your growing misery makes studying boring, and you find answers for your emotions in a science textbook, desperately running away from the obvious truth. Less sex means that you are unhappier. It’s biology. 

It’s not a crush. 

Not on Ona. 

No. 

And it’s certainly not this not-realisation that flies you to Milan the minute a modelling agency inquires about whether you have ever thought of, well, modelling. They scout you someplace random, and your mother claims that she could have helped you start your career earlier if only you’d have been interested. 

When you explain to your best friend what you are moving for, she is oddly unsurprised and uncaring. Her reaction is sickening, because you’d have rathered her get an ego boost from having slept with a model than be so fucking apathetic. 

“I’m going to Milan, Ona,” you repeat, just in case she has not heard you. “I’m moving. We did the trial shoots last week, and they loved me. They want me to update my social media and work on building up a following, and they said that I should start learning English because I might end up in New York.” 

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.” She doesn’t sound like she means it, and you grow annoyed about how she is not even trying to sound enthusiastic. 

“Can’t you be happy for me? Or is it only acceptable for you to have dreams?” 

“I am happy for you, I just said that.” 

“The words left your mouth, but they definitely did not come from your heart.” 

“You’re being dramatic.” Ona rolls her eyes and the pent-up sexual tension builds and builds until the bottle it has been shoved into can no longer withstand the pressure. You haven’t argued since you moved to Madrid, which makes no sense considering you literally broke up – even if it absolutely wasn’t dating. Neither of you has processed your broken heart, and you’re pretty sure you are still too traumatised from the first girl you fell in love with to be capable of revisiting those kinds of emotions. 

Ona hasn’t had sex in weeks, and it is affecting her performance. She can’t sleep if she has the energy she does, and she can’t get through her workouts because not sleeping makes her lose her appetite and then she does not have the energy to complete them. Her coaches are worried, but they know that she is young and though almost idiotic, they mostly assume that she is repulsed by the idea of playing for a club in Madrid. They get that a lot with the Catalans that come over from La Masia, whose dreams have been delayed because the first team had thought it necessary that they gained more experience elsewhere. 

Ona has wanted to shout and scream every minute of every day, and so have you. Therefore, everything explodes. 

…

You inhale deeply, exhaling when it feels as though some of the stress has dissipated. This casting is one of the more important ones of the week. It’s odd to be judged on your appearance, to be paid for it, but it has been almost a year since you moved to Milan and you are enjoying yourself. 

You don’t miss university, and you don’t miss your parents. Your friends visit you lots, loving the idea of your career, loving the excuse to escape their dreary weekends in where they have always been. 

Milan is great. You make friends with a few other models, though they come and go depending on work, and the more experience you get, the more your following count goes up. Brands send you things, nice things, and events start extending invites to lure you into the glamour of the industry. 

Milan is great, you tell yourself on repeat. 

Milan is great, but it would be better if Ona were here. 

Milan is great, but you regret the way you left things and want to take it all back. 

Milan is great but– 

“Your fitting is tomorrow,” says the assistant, reading off her iPad. You suppress your wandering thoughts, nodding. You need this job, you need the money to pay for a flight. The agency has given you some advancements – an impressive thing, apparently – but not enough to cover the cost of the ticket to New York for the start of Fashion Week. This show will fluff out your experience, and increase your chances of walking at one of the bigger shows. 

You’ve been told that you are quite a good model; attractive, funny, with just the right amount of personality to be both a mannequin and an interesting figure. 

The lifestyle is different but good, and you realise that you’d never wanted the mundanity of studying and then working and selling your soul to some kind of tall office building. Not everyone gets the concept of living away from home, especially not those from your tight-knit community who think the city is stretching the distance slightly (the train works, you can live with your parents and have a good job – you’ve been told that a few times), but you don’t mind. You can explain it as much as you want and they would still be confused. 

You stay in touch, but you don’t stay present. 

As your career snowballs over the next two years, you pull away from your home, always on a flight, always busy. You go to LA and Paris and London, and you rent your flat in Milan out as an Airbnb whenever you’re not there. You love the city, you start to think of it as yours, and slowly but surely, everything else fades into the background. 

Apart from Ona, of course. Your friends still visit, or you meet up with them if you ever find yourself in Barcelona, and they continue to affirm just how proud they are of you. They talk about her a lot, too; about where she’s playing now, about injuries and fame and representing Spain. They know you are too stubborn to search it up for yourself, but these are the people who have grown up with you: they know you would like to be informed. 

When you hear that Ona has moved to Manchester, you don’t quite think your actions through. 

You have had enough. You miss her terribly.

Her number has changed, but someone passes it onto you. 

You: I saw that you’re playing Arsenal next week. I’ll be in London then. Do you want to get a coffee? 

Ona takes her time replying, but that is only because she wants to delay the inevitable. 

Her eyes shine and her hair is damp, but the kick-off had been early and you don’t have anything to do today. You meet her in the carpark, picking her up in a black BMW that’s sleek and shiny and 100% not yours. Her laugh is light and free as she knocks on the driver’s window and juts her thumb out, instructing you to swap. 

“I’m not getting in a car that you’re driving,” she declares seriously, though you know she has forgiven you because she would not have agreed to meet if she hadn’t. “Come on, I checked on Maps and there’s a place not too far from here that looks nice. And it’s empty, so don’t worry about the paparazzi.” 

“The paparazzi are not after me,” you shut down quickly, not wanting her to think you are a bigger deal than what you are. Successful, yes. Famous? Not so much. “One day it’ll be you worrying about them, when you’re all grown up.” 

“I’m twenty-one!” 

It comes out so whiny and childish that you burst into a fit of giggles. Ona is proud to have made you laugh. 

You don’t kiss her, but you’d like to. Then again, maybe it’s better to just be friends. 

#woso x reader #woso #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #barca femeni #randombush3 #pretend it's not all build up #but it is

[fazedlight]

Awakening (Kara character study, small part supercorp softness)

“But why can’t I be matched to Tali, mom? She’s my best friend!”

Alura turned to Kara, her jaw tensed with frustration with the stubborn child. “Kara, you know better than this. Stable matching can only be achieved if there is a true bijection between disjoint sets-”

“We don’t even have a true bijection because the population is constantly changing, we don’t sort according to all possible preferences, we don’t even have-” “It is not in our nature, Kara,” Alura said, with a dangerous tone in her voice. “We are not Daxamites.”

“But-” 

“The answer is no.”

---

Kara is thirteen Earth years the first time she’s called “dyke.” She doesn’t know what it means. She had only been to school for a couple of weeks. Before that, the only substantial English she had spoken was the couple months with Eliza, Jeremiah, Alex, and Kal. 

Clark, not Kal. Saying “Kal” would put her baby cousin- her older cousin- her cousin in danger.

Alex’s face flushes, and her eyes almost burn with anger, as she shoves Jake Howell against a locker. Kara could do it easily herself, but showing her newfound strength to humans would put her in danger too, somehow. Kara doesn’t think asshole is a nice word, given how Alex growled it. But she suspects dyke isn’t a nice word either.

That night after dinner, Eliza sighs, and hugs Kara gently - and Kara resolves to never get called dyke again.

---

“She’s gorgeous, she’s smart, she smells nice. Hell, I want to date her.” Kara flushed with discomfort, as the words came unbidden from her lips. But Alex didn’t remark on the odd statement, and Kara shoved the thought away.

Just weeks later, awkwardness would turn to tension as Lucy growled. “You and Hank, why do you all lie?”

“When you are an alien,” Kara choked, “You’re willing to sacrifice anything, everything, betray your fundamental instincts - just to fit in.” Something tugged in Kara’s soul at that moment. That she had always tried to fit in, long before she became an alien. But there simply hadn’t been time to linger.

It was only weeks later, when Lucy was saying her goodbyes before leaving National City to rejoin the military, that Kara felt the uncomfortable spike again. “I do know what it’s like to hide,” Lucy confessed.

Kara tilted her head, questions like why? and what do you mean? floating through her mind. But she thought it would be kinder not to ask. “I hope someday, you can be all that you are.”

Lucy gave a small smile. “Me too.”

---

She hadn’t expected meeting Lena to feel like lightning in her veins. The younger Luthor was quick-witted, and beautiful, and playful. Kara felt herself flush with the gentle teasing during their first coffee, and found herself marveling at never quite having a friendship like this before. 

---

“So… so she’s gay?” Kara asked, the word heavy in her throat. “And are you saying, you’re gay too?”

Alex sighed and paced in front of Kara, her frustration just as apparent as her confusion. How can you not know if you’re gay?, Kara wondered, at the same time feeling strangely allergic to the conversation. Wouldn’t it be obvious? “What’s changed?” Kara asked.

---

Yeah, he was… immature. Irresponsible. But they connected - orphans of a lost planet, who spoke the same tongue, who had the same bewilderment in their first moments on an alien planet with newfound powers. And if being in his bed brought her pleasure, it was only proof of their connection, that a good relationship could come of it.

Sometimes there were those flashes - Mon-El had been confused by Alex’s coming out, not understanding the concept. The more the merrier would ring in Kara’s head, and she’d chase away the image of Lena’s face.

---

“I couldn’t have done it, Kara.”

Kara’s chest heaved as she gazed down at Lena, hearing Kal’s words flash through her mind. Lena clung to Kara’s arm as Kara hovered above the reservoir, and some corner of Kara’s mind knew that she should go land, that the danger was over. That Lena was safe. That the city was safe.

But she could only stare down at Lena, whose heart hammered in her chest, whose panting breaths from her climb had not yet slowed. I almost lost her, Kara thought, forlorn. I couldn’t lose her…

It was that moment that her world came crashing down, that realization made her feel like she was drowning. That romantic love wasn’t merely a combination of friendship and lust. That shared experience didn’t mean a shared connection. There was something that ran deeper.

She was in love with Lena, and she could no longer deny it.

---

It was a drunken movie night, after Lena’s breakup with James, when Kara heard I love you fall from Lena's lips.

“It was always you,” Lena confessed, her words slightly slurred from the alcohol as Kara finished pulling the covers over her. “I just wanted to be close to you.”

Kara stood back, feeling her heart pound as she watched Lena slip into slumber. I wish I had told you, Kara thought, her mind flashing to a moment long ago in a forest. I wish I had told you, before…

Kara spent a fitful night trying to sleep on her couch, and Lena’s eyes flashed with shame the next morning as she woke. But they left for Noonan’s, leaving the conversation behind.

---

It felt impossibly brief, that window of time after Kara had revealed her secret, where everything felt almost right with the world. Maybe someday, she and Lena could finish that conversation.

But she found herself in a kryptonite shell.

The universe ended soon after, and even magic couldn’t fix how they had broken. Until the day Kara finally found her hands in Lena’s, vowing together to take down her brother, and Kara felt again that hopeful wonder of what a future with Lena could hold.

And then she found herself in the Phantom Zone again, the words ringing in her head, I wish I had told you.

---

Sleep had eluded Kara in the weeks back from the Phantom Zone. So she was already wide awake at 2am, when she heard Lena’s heart begin to hammer. 

Kara tensed, rushing to her window and ears tuning in as she prepared to fight off an assassination attempt or catch Lena as she fell.

But as she shot into the sky, she nearly tumbled when she realized that Lena wasn’t in distress. The shaky breaths and small laughs caused Kara’s chest to tighten in anguish. She’s fine, Kara thought, feeling tears prick the edges of her vision. She’s fine. 

---

“Are you okay?” Lena said, when she finally found Kara in the Tower, sitting on a step. “Alex said she couldn’t find you - you were in the Fortress?”

Kara glanced up from the steps. “I just, um. I was reading in the Fortress, I fell asleep there.” It had the benefit of being true. The Fortress was far enough to drown the sound of Lena’s heart out.

Lena shuffled next to Kara, taking a seat. “I don’t remember seeing any beds there.”

“I float in my sleep,” Kara shrugged, staring at her hands as she let silence fall.

Lena shifted, uncomfortable with the quiet. “Are you okay?”

Yeah, Kara almost said, but something stopped her this time. Perhaps it was the poor sleep. Perhaps it was the litany of I wish I had told you that would replay in her mind.

How many more times am I going to do this?, Kara thought. How many more times am I going to carry that regret? “I love you,” Kara said finally, sensing Lena tense up next to her. “I know… I know that door is closed. But I love you. I should’ve told you so long ago.”

“You… you heard me last night,” Lena wondered softly. “So you went to the Fortress?”

Kara grimaced. “I stopped listening as soon as I realized,” Kara said, fighting a panic. Will she be angry? “I never meant to- to invade your privacy. I’ll be more careful.”

“The door isn’t closed,” Lena said. “If you don’t want it to be.”

Those words made Kara brave enough - or maybe just confused enough - to finally tilt her head up to meet Lena’s gaze. “But- last night-”

“I’ve been trying to get over you. Not very successfully,” Lena added, with a wry grin.

“Really?” Kara smiled.

“Really.” 

---

The matching laws had been long dismantled by the time a smiling Alura officiated their marital rites. Kryptonians didn’t have concepts like best man or matron of honor, but that didn’t stop the two women from inviting Alex and Kelly to stand at each of their sides as they said their vows.

Kara never imagined that it’d be a woman’s wrist she’d place her wedding bracelet on. Though she supposed she never imagined marrying on an asteroid of her father’s creation, or marrying for romantic love, or marrying someone her people would call Hero of Argo for the creation of a black rock.

She never imagined finally telling Lena her secret. She never imagined Lena’s forgiveness. She never imagined the feel of Lena’s lips pressed against her own, hands tugging at her robes, as she whispered zhao against Lena’s lips.

And she never imagined being the one to make Lena’s heart race.

#I deleted this WIP a minimum of 3 times before it finally became a thing #supercorp #mel writes ficlets

[verstappen-cult]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL | CL16

— 03. THE DRAMA

PREV. PART | NEXT PART — [ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

summary: in which charles has an embarrassing crush on alex's childhood best friend and everyone meddles. content warnings: faceclaim is taylor hill but you can picture her as you’d like! some cursing and a tiny bit of angst because why not. time jump of a month approx.

INSTAGRAM POST

📍 LONDON, ENGLAND — JUN 27, 2023

Liked by alex_albon, landonorris and 897,455 others

yourusername i kinda like it here. ⛳️

view all 7,637 comments

user66 uh excuse me? the second slide???

user67 IS THAT CHARLES ???? user68 I THINK SO

alex_albon i feel betrayed.

yourusername stop being so dramatic

user69 my parents are together i still can’t believe it

user70 oh my god okay it’s happening

user71 everybody stay calm OH MY GOD user72 are they together? user71 girl go on twitter and see

landonorris let’s play and see who’s better

yourusername me ofc

charles_leclerc ❤️

user73 relationship goals

user74 lol we don’t even know if they’re dating user75 they kissed in front of thousand of people AND on live tv what are you talking about

user76 he’s too good for her

user77 who is she anyway. user78 stop being so childish, he’s never gonna date u

user79 who wouldn’t want to date her i mean just look at her

user80 all these people saying charles is too good for her like ??? SHE’S too good for him

user81 she will get bored in a few days mark my words

danielricciardo Ok but who won?

charles_leclerc i won! yourusername charlie don’t lie maxverstappen1 I don’t believe anything he says ever since I won fair and square playing FIFA and he threw the controller at me. landonorris he did that to you too? pierregasly that’s nothing. he threw a padel racket at my head, i still don’t remember anything from that day. charles_leclerc ffs shut up yourusername leave him alone you bullies

user82 i love how all the drivers are calling charles out lol

Y/N’S iMESSAGE

“that’s not how you make pasta!” you’re dying with laughter at seeing charles trying to cook.

“i asked you if i could cook!” charles can’t help but join you in your laughter, leaving the burned pasta aside.

“because you said you knew how to!”

“you better not believe anything i say.” he takes a sip of wine. the one he brought alongside the beautiful flowers that are now adorning your terrace.

“not even when you say how much you like me?” you pout, looking at him beneath your eyelashes.

charles walks the short distance to where you are sitting in the kitchen counter and you happily make room for him between your legs, arms finding your waist in no time.

“you should a hundred percent believe that.”

“mh i don’t know,” you tease, playing with his soft hair. god, you love his hair so much. “i think you should show me.”

“oh i’m definitely going to do that.”

INSTAGRAM POST

Liked by sabrinacarpenter, gigihadid and 566,328 others

yourusername 💐

view all 8,771 comments

user83 that’s one hell of a bouquet

user84 charles knows what he’s doing

gigihadid Can’t wait to see you this weekend!

❤️ by author

user85 i wanna be her so bad :(

user86 If it weren’t for Charles nobody would know who she is. He put her on the map.

user87 this is a grown ass man by the way user 88 i swear to god men are so in love with charles is getting kinda scary

carmenmmundt What a beautiful picture 💛

user89 tired of her comment section being all about charles

user90 fr like they forget she’s her own person user91 I just know she doesn’t like this at all, she’s always speak up about these kind of things user92 if this were to happen the other way around everyone would be insulting her

user93 CHARLES IS WITH HER RN OHMYGOD

user94 what are you taking about user93 LOOK AT CHARLES STORIES HE LITERALLY JUST POSTED THE PICTURES user95 if it wasn’t for the close up of the flowers we wouldn’t even know they’re together user96 he def did it on purpose

user97 the boys, the girls, the gays, they all like Y/N

INSTAGRAM STORIES

landonorris has replied to your story

landonorris: *chandler bing’s voice* can I BE any more obvious? charles_leclerc: just stop watching friends, i beg you

maxverstappen1 has replied to your story

maxverstappen1: Uh, so that’s why you wouldn’t travel with me. Interesting. charles_leclerc: can i use air max for the next race? 🥺

pierregasly has replied to your story

pierregasly: you guys make me sick charles_leclerc: Y/N says to shut up pierregasly: 🤮🤮🤮

yourusername has replied to your story

yourusername: i like this soft launch/hard launch thing charles_leclerc: i bet you like me more yourusername: debatable charles_leclerc: i can make you change your mind 😏

TWITTER — JUN 28, 2023

TWITTER — JUN 30, 2023

TWITTER — JUL 02, 2023

ALEX’S iMESAGGE

TAGLIST (bold means i couldn’t tag you) — @leclerc16s. @willowpains. @berrnuu. @minkyungseokie. @1655clean. @sassyheroneckgiant. @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir. @nessacarty1. @a1leexxa. @storminacloud. @lovstappen. @littlehoneyfreak. @paintedbypoetry. @thatoneembarrasingmoment.

note: hiii besties, take this as an early new years present! this was supposed to be posted after dec 31st but couldn’t leave it in the drafts. there is at least one or two more chapters, so if you still wanna be added to the taglist let me know! <3

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱ #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #f1 imagine #f1 grid x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc blurb

[ziggyzolch]

Queen Bee-atch II (Regina George x Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of weight, implied eating disorder, Insecurity. No numbers mentioned.

✮✮✮

"Class isn't over yet, I haven't dismissed you!" The teacher's demands fall on deaf ears as the students pack up before the lunch bell rings, eager to see their friends. Your first three classes were relatively uneventful, the only entertaining thing being this ginger girl you've never seen before attempting to leave class without permission. Your eyes scan the hallways after you exit the classroom. Janis and Damien are the only people you can tolerate at this school, so they're the only people you ever seek out. There they are.

You make your way through the crowded hallway and purposefully shoulder-bump your target.

"What is wrong with you- oh you asshole!" Janis curses lightheartedly. She pulls you into a hug and kisses your forehead while you stand awkwardly with your hands at your sides. Instead of waiting for his turn, Damien joins in and wraps his arms around you and Janis. "I missed you guys so much!" You manage to get out while still in the bone crushing hug. "Where were you this whole summer? You went completely, like, radio silent." Damien asks with a suspicious look in his eyes. "Sorry, I got grounded for the whole summer. My mom found my cigarette stash." You confessed. "Idiot. Anyways, did you see that new girl?" Janis switches topics and Damien chimes in, "Yeah she's, like, a total disaster. We need to save her." Their words are background noise to you. You're staring through Janis, zoned out. Damien and Janis give each other a look.

Flick

"Hey what the hell!" You whine as you rub your forehead. "You weren't with us man, your eyes were drifting apart from each other and everything. Pretty sure I saw a bit of drool dribble out-" you lightly punch Janis before she can continue. "Yeah I was! You were saying something about that new girl. I think her name was 'Caddy' or something.", you defend. "She's a disaster, we should probably help her." Damien stares at you. "Babe, I just said that." Janis stares between you guys before interrupting. "Anyways...let's go look for her!"

Janis and Damien were your best, and only, friends. You wouldn't know what to do without them. As such, you basically stuck to them whenever you could in school. Following them to the cafeteria, you take your seats at your designated table. You spot female Ed Sheeran standing awkwardly in the middle of the cafeteria. She looks so stupid.

"Hey guys should we call her over?" You ask your friends. They stop their conversation and look at where you're pointing. Janis nods and yells out, "Hey ginger! What did you say her name was? Was it Caddy? Caddy!" The girl turns and points at herself, mouthing out a 'me?'. She comes over after we confirm and we all introduce ourselves. "...and that's Damien, he's almost too gay to function." Janis concludes. "So Cady, what do you think of the school so far?" You question. "Oh, I don't really know, I used to be homeschooled so I don't have much to compare it to." Cady replies.

You, Janis, and Damien all look at each other and back at her.

She raises an eyebrow.

You all begin going on about what to know about the high school: The best hiding places, teachers to avoid pissing off and such, and the various cliques in this school. "...and those are the sexually active band geeks. Don't walk too close, lest you get dragged into their never-ending orgy." You finish. Cady glances behind her and asks "What about them? They're kind of pretty." You all turn to see who she's looking at. "Oh honey, no no no, those are the plastics..." Damien goes on his little cautionary rant about how evil they are. You looked towards Cady and smiled while rolling your eyes.

While you're both giggling, your eyes lock onto Regina's...who is currently approaching your table. Perfect. "Hey, Gerard," Damien gives you a confused look at the name, "Who's this girl with you? Why don't I know you?"

You zone out looking at her when she turns away from you, gushing over Cady. You wish her attention was on you. Wait what- You're taken out of your reverie as Cady gets up and follows behind Regina towards her group. "Finally back to the present? What is up with you dude you've been out of it this whole day!" You shrug your shoulders at Janis and turn your gaze back to Regina. What's so great about 'Caddy' that caught the attention of Regina? You could look just as helpless if you wanted to, but you won't! Not on purpose anyways.

You get up.

"I'm going to the bathroom"

Janis replies while looking towards the plastics, "We'd come with, but we kind of want to see where this goes."

✮✮✮

The sounds of her friends taking Cady through the requirements to be a Plastic fade as she makes her way to the bathroom. She had forgotten her pocket mirror and had to re-apply her lip gloss, duh. A stench that can only be accomplished by a high school bathroom gets stronger as she opens the door. She stops in her tracks when she sees you reapplying your mascara at the sink.

"Hey Brendon Urie."

You hadn't even noticed someone walking in.

"God, that's actually worse than Gerard." You look at her through the mirror.

She moves a bit closer, "You look so familiar."

"Must've seen me in your dreams," You say while awkwardly winking at her.

She raises an eyebrow, "No, I know you. I swear I do!"

"Well yeah, I'm the one and only Gerard Way! Lead singer of My Chemical Romance-"

"Enough," She rolls her eyes.

You finish up and make your way out of the bathroom, cautiously walking around her with your arms up. "You'll figure it out. Don't worry, Blondie."

She watches you exit the bathroom.

✮✮✮

"Oh my god! Regina, remember this?" Regina glared at her mom as she continued trying to seem cool to her friends. She's known them for years! Why does she keep doing this? Cady looks at the book in Mrs. George's hands.

"What is that?"

"No way! We used this book to make fun of the freaks in our school. We'd tape photos of people then write down insults-"

"She understands, Gretchen. Can you get us some snacks, Mom?"

As Regina's mom walks out of the room, the girls are looking through the various insults in the book. They eventually land on a page with a picture of you and Janis.

'Janis, Pyro Lez' 'Y/N, puts in 110% effort because she takes up 110% of the room.'

Cady's eyes widen. "That's not even her." She says while looking at the picture of you.

"I think she moved schools, wait how do you know her?" Gretchen stops what she's doing to ask.

"I sit with her at lunch"

"What? There's no way, that Gerard Way girl?" Regina chimes in and moves from her spot at the mirror to look at the picture.

"Woah, did she just melt off half her body weight since freshman year?"

"I'm so jealous." Karen adds.

Regina stares at the picture of you. So that's why she knew you.

✮✮✮

You, Damien, Janice and Cady are all gathered around at your locker. "...and it's just a collection of insults, basically." Cady had been giving a summary of the events from the previous day.

Janice's eyes go wide. "Does it say anything about me?"

"Uhm, nope. Nothing about you."

"Ugh, those bitches."

You didn't want to ask if you were in it. You had an idea of what the insults towards you could be, and you'd rather not have your suspicions confirmed.

The bell rings, interrupting the powwow. You all bid each other goodbye, and make your way to your classes. PE was your next period, and you couldn't wait. It was a break from all the thinking you had to do.

You head towards the gym after switching into your exercise clothes. Most of your clothes were oversized and baggy, including your gym ones. You hadn't really upgraded your wardrobe since you lost weight. Everybody was already in, gathered in a circle, so you pushed yourself in, not paying attention to who you were standing next to.

"Alright! Today, we'll be playing soccer! Or football, as some of you may call it." The PE teacher announces, mumbling the last part of his sentence. "We will work in pairs today, so find a pair. Or partner, I mean. Whatever, just get moving."

"I can't believe they assigned that guy to teach us Sex-ed." Was someone talking to you?

You look behind you to find Regina looking down at you with a...genuine smile on her face? That can't be right.

"Right! He gives off the same vibe as those Reddit incels."

"That's so funny."

Are you having a normal conversation? With the queen bitch?

"What did you call me?"

Oh shit, you said that out loud.

"Uh-"

"Whatever, you wanna pair up? None of my friends are in this class, and you're the least annoying one here."

Thanks. You look around to make sure there are no other possible options. Regina rolls her eyes and grabs your arm, pulling you to an empty spot.

She was actually decent at football. You guys were practicing passing to each other while running and you were starting to feel lightheaded.

You waved to Regina, "Hey, I'm just going to get a sip of water."

"I'll come with."

"You should play football more often, you're more tolerable like this."

"Bold, are we?"

"I mean, I basically just called you a bitch and you haven't punched me in the face. So I'm right"

She laughed! What is up with her?

✮✮✮

Regina enters the locker room and spots you with your shirt halfway up. You really did lose half your body weight. Guilt pierces through her. Freshman year Regina was cruel. Somehow crueler than she is now, and fat girls were just easy to bully. Did you drop weight because of her?

Your shirt had gotten snagged on both your necklace and bracelet. After watching you twist and wriggle around for a while, Regina deems you sufficiently embarrassed and walks towards you to help you out.

You feel someone pull your shirt up and off of you. You had made sure to go into the locker room after everyone had already left. So when you were finally free of your cloth prison and came face to face with Regina. You felt nauseous. Of everyone!

She looks you up and down and suddenly you're more self conscious than you've ever been. Wrapping your arms around your stomach, you mumble out a 'Thanks' and put on your other shirt then hurriedly pack up and rush out of the locker room, leaving a guilt-ridden Regina behind.

✮✮✮

#regina george x reader #regina george imagine #mean girls imagines #mean girls 2024 #fanfic #wlw #regina george #mean girls #renee rapp #renee rapp x reader #regina george x you #mean girls the musical #regina george is a lesbian #wlw fiction #regina george icons

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

Unrequited // Hazel Callahan

request: Could you write a college Hazel x femme reader where they're roommates and Hazel is in their shared room upset, crying cause they have a really horrible friend who convinced Hazel that reader doesn't like her back and got all in her head about it.

prompts: none!

summary: when pj convinces hazel that there’s no way you could return her feelings, hazel starts to push you away, hurting you in the process.

warnings: none!

word count: 1.5k

a/n: gn!reader, reader is implied to be a lesbian

join my taglist!

“Look, you need to get over yourself. It’s never going to happen. Ever,” PJ said as she sat down next to Hazel.

Before PJ had so rudely interrupted, Hazel was gazing at you from across the quad, blissfully lost in her thoughts about you. Since the beginning of the school year, all Hazel could think about was you. You had been assigned as roommates, and ever since Hazel first saw you she was utterly, completely, and hopelessly in love with you. And sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder if you could ever feel the same. But unfortunately, PJ wasn’t having it.

“What?” Hazel asked as she looked over to PJ, a bit startled by her sudden appearance and slightly aggressive tone.

“There is no way they like you back. None. Zero. So get over it.”

Hazel frowned at her best friend’s words. “You really think so?”

PJ groaned in exasperation. “Uh, yeah. I mean just look at them. They’re like the straightest person ever. And even if by some miracle they were gay, there’s no way in hell you could pull them.”

Hazel tried not to let it show how much PJ’s words had affected her, but they had cut deep. Her eyes watered slightly and she quickly blinked to fight back the tears. Of course you would never like her. You’re… amazing. And she’s just… Hazel.

“Yeah… maybe you’re right,” Hazel sniffled, ultimately failing to hold back her tears. “Uhm, I- I’m gonna go. See you later.”

Hazel gathered her things and headed towards her dorm room, hurriedly wiping away her tears. At that moment, you looked up and saw her storming away, looking utterly miserable, and you felt your heart ache. You hated it when Hazel was sad, of course, you hated when anyone was sad, but with Hazel it was different. All you wanted was for her to be happy, and it killed you when she wasn’t. Hurriedly grabbing your bag, you rushed after her, hoping you could help make her smile again.

~

You were about to open the door to your dorm when you heard a soft sniffling from the other side. You frowned, Hazel was crying. So instead, you lightly knocked on the door, not wanting to intrude if she wanted to be alone.

“Hazel? Can I come in?” you asked, pressing your ear against the door and straining to hear her answer.

When she didn’t answer, you raised your hand to knock again, but Hazel pulled the door open just before you could. You felt your heart sink at the look of utter devastation on her face, and you wished you could just take all her pain away.

You stepped forward to hug her, but Hazel stepped back, walking over to her bed and sitting back down, pulling her knees to her chest.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Hazel always let you hug her. Something must’ve really been wrong.

You stepped inside and shut the door behind you before you walked over to your bed and sat down, facing her. You slipped your bag off your shoulder and pulled off your jacket, waiting to see if Hazel wanted to talk about it. When it became clear that she didn’t want to say anything, you took it upon yourself to break the silence.

“Hazel, what’s wrong? I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Hazel didn’t reply, staring blankly into space. Now you were really worried. She was almost never sad, and even when she was it wasn’t this bad. You stood up and walked over to her, sitting down beside her.

“Talk to me. Please. I wanna help,” you whispered, looking at her intently.

Hazel shook her head and hugged her legs tighter. “You can’t help me. You’re just making this worse.”

Your heart shattered at her words. The last thing you would ever want to do was hurt you. You loved her. And seeing her so miserable just broke your heart.

“Are you upset with me? Did I do something?”

Hazel sighed, her sobs quieting down slightly. “Just go away. Leave me alone.”

Your felt your eyes begin to water as her words struck you. She had to have been upset with you, but you had no idea what you’d done. She was so upset she didn’t even want you around her. All you wanted to do was make it better, to make her smile again. But it was starting to seem like it wouldn’t be such an easy fix this time.

“Alright then. If that’s what you want, I’ll leave you alone,” you said, getting up and grabbing your jacket, heading out of the room to give Hazel the space she asked for.

Once you were gone, Hazel only started to cry harder. She could tell her words had hurt you, and that just made her feel worse. She didn’t want you to leave, not really. It’s just that being around you only reminded her of what she couldn’t have. And that only made everything she was feeling even worse.

~

It had been a few days since you had found Hazel crying in your shared dorm room, and ever since she had pretty much been avoiding you. You missed her so much, you were so used to spending almost every day with her, and now that she was avoiding you, all you could feel was the pain of her missing presence.

You just wanted her back. You wanted to know what you did to hurt her so badly. You wanted to fix it, to make things right again so you could finally have the best thing that had ever happened to you back in your life again. But as the days passed, you knew the likelihood of that was dwindling.

You were sitting on your bed attempting to do homework, not making any progress because all you could think about was Hazel, when the door opened and Hazel stepped in. Her eyes widened when she saw you, a grimace appearing on her face.

“Oh, I didn’t think you’d be here. I think I’m just gonna go…” she said awkwardly, turning to walk back out the door.

“Don’t go! Please…” the utter desperation in your voice made Hazel stop in her tracks.

You sniffled, all of your pent up emotions finally spilling out. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Whatever I did to make you hate me so much, I’m sorry. I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts. Just please… tell me how I can fix this,” you pleaded, your voice breaking as you began to cry.

Hazel felt horrible. She had only been ignoring you to protect her own feelings, and she didn’t even stop to consider yours. Hazel closed the door behind her and walked over to your bed, sitting down beside you.

“You- you didn’t do anything,” Hazel admitted guiltily.

“Then why are you avoiding me? Why do you hate me so much? Did you just get tired of me?” you began to cry harder, too overwhelmed by your feelings.

“I- I can’t say…” Hazel mumbled, torn between wanting to comfort you and keeping her feelings hidden out of fear of pushing you away ever more than she already had.

You turned to look at her, your eyes red and puffy and your cheeks wet with tears. Hazel frowned, and against her better judgment, she pulled you into a hug. You felt yourself relax into her embrace, hugging her back tightly, not ever wanting to let go.

“Hazel, please. Just tell me what’s wrong. I love you. I don’t want things to just end like this.”

Hazel froze. Surely she must’ve heard you wrong. There’s no way you could’ve just said that you loved her. It just wasn’t possible.

“What did you just say?” Hazel asked, slightly in shock from what she thought she heard.

You sighed and pulled away from her embrace, wiping your tears away with the back of your hands. “I- I said I love you. I know this is an absolutely horrible time to say something like this, especially because you seem to hate being around me all of a sudden, but I love you. I’ve loved you practically since we first met. And I know that-”

Hazel cut you off, connecting her lips to yours. You squeaked in shock from the unexpected action before completely melting into her touch. You kissed back eagerly, not ever wanting the moment to end.

Hazel pulled away first, resting her forehead against yours as she panted for breath. Coming down from the high of finally getting to kiss the girl you’ve been in love with for months, you only felt more confused.

“I’m sorry,” Hazel said, taking your hands in hers. “I- I never meant to hurt you like this. I- I love you too. And I was only avoiding you like this because PJ had me convinced that you could never like me back and I just couldn’t stand to be around you because of how much it hurt. But I never realized that I would be hurting you too. I am so so sorry. Is there any way you could forgive me?”

You smiled softly, sniffling again as you wiped away your tears. “I’ll forgive you. On one condition.”

Hazel nodded eagerly. “Yeah, anything.”

You smiled as you leaned in. “Kiss me again.”

tags: @hazelvrr

#imagine #imagines #x reader #oneshot #smut #blurb #bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #bottoms x reader #bottoms smut #bottoms imagine #bottoms oneshot #bottoms blurb #bottoms fanfic #bottoms fanfiction #bottoms fic #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #hazel callahan oneshot #hazel callahan blurb #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan fic #hazel callahan fanfic #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #ruby cruz #hazel callahan brainrot #bottoms film

[pitchsidestories]

eras of us (2) II Ona Batlle x Reader

part 1 I masterlist I word count: 2662

a/n: the second and final part to eras of us with the promised happy ending, enjoy. <3

Barcelona had changed since Onas departure. Or at least it felt like it. She had been such an integral part of your daily life that you constantly found yourself longing for her presence in every situation. Every time you went to training, you were painfully reminded that you were without your best friend.

Time and time again, you tried to convince yourself that this was a decision that every football player would have to make at some point in their career. Still, you could not shake the weird mix of feelings that her transfer had created.

Of course, your team mates noticed that your mood had changed.

After a particular hard training in the Catalonian sun, Leila took you aside before you could disappear into the dressing room: “Ona… she misses you.“

You frowned at her, not sure where the conversation about Ona had come from. “Oh, sure. I think Ona seems very happy on the recent pictures she’s been posting.“, you replied and tried to push past Leila.

Mapi passed the two of you and gave you a wink: “Looks can be deceiving.“

“Listen to her. She’s got that tattooed.“, Leila grinned.

You rolled your eyes. As if anyone could miss the tattoo on Mapis throat.

“Yeah, I know what I’m talking about.“, Mapi laughed, stopping right next to you.

Shaking your head about your two team mates, you heaved a deep sigh: “But what am I supposed to do?“

A mischievous smirk appeared on Leilas face as she reached into the pocket of her warm-up jacket. She handed you a small envelope.

“No worries. Here is your ticket to Manchester and your return ticket to Barcelona.“

Speechless, you just stared at her and Mapi for a few seconds. How long had they planned that?

“You girls are insane!“, you finally exclaimed.

“No, we’re the best.“, Mapi corrected you.

“Thank you!“ You hugged both of them quickly, an inexplicable smile on your lips.

“Yeah, just remember to names us as team mates of the year.“, Leila joked.

You laughed: “I promise I will.“

“But now go before you miss your flight.“, Leila said, moving out of your way.

“Okay, got it. See you two soon!“, you called, hurrying into the dressing room to take a quick shower and race home to pack your suitcase.

“Good luck!“, Mapi shouted after you.

Smiling, Leila watched you disappear into the dressing room while wiping away an imaginary tear: “Our children grow up so fast.“

Alexia who had suddenly appeared next to Mapi, shook her head: “Leila, not all the gays in the team are your children.“

“It feels like they are.“

A few hours later you were at your best friend’s new home in England. Quickly you went up the stairs, feeling slightly breathless once you reached the right floor before you ringed the bell next to her surname plate.

Onas’s jaw dropped when she opened the door to her appartement in Manchester to see you standing there in flesh and bone:” Hello?”

“Oni, hi.”, you greeted her back, feeling your heart pound heavy against your chest at the familiar sight of her.

Still stunned she blinked: “You.”

“Yes, it’s me.”, you replied, running one hand through your hair, the other rested on the suitcase.

“What are you doing here?”, the defender furrowed her brows.

“I’m sorry how I reacted when you were saying you’d leave.”, you apologized, while looking guiltily down to your feet.

Hearing these words, Ona clenched her teeth:” It doesn’t matter.” But you could tell from her reaction that this was a lie.

“And Leila said you missed me.”, you added biting your lip as you spoke.

 “Maybe I did. You’re my best friend.”, she confessed. Lifting your head to face her again, you realized that the English weather made her look paler, but the freckles were still there.

Rather childish you responded: “Still? You seem pretty happy in Manchester now.”

Before answering your question, the United player showed you the old friendship bracelet you’ve made for her all those years ago and she was wearing even now although it did look old: “Still. And I’m happy here. The team and the coaches trust me.”

“That’s great. I’m glad they recognize your talent, you deserve it, Oni.”, you told her in an honest tone.

“Thank you. Uhm.. do you want to come in?”, Ona asked you, tousling shily through her bun.

“Sure.”, you nodded nervously while entering her appartement.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting a visitor.”, she blushed as you were taking in the view.

“It’s fine. Really.”, you reassured her. Glancing at the framed pictures which were not hanging up, yet you pointed to them:” Do you want to hang up the pictures?”

“Actually, yes.”

Meanwhile you were holding the first photo in your hands, you couldn’t help but to smile at the young girls which were pictured, celebrating a team win:” I love this one.”

“Oh, me too.”, the defender admitted.

“We all look so small on it, well Aitana still is.”, you commented grinning.

Seeming relaxed, Ona showed you another picture: “Yes, we do but this one is my favourite.”

You knew the photo well, it was taken after your first game for the Barcelona senior team and you spotted your best friend in the stands and went in to hug her, this moment forever being captured by the photographer on the pitch for which you were both grateful:” Mine too, you paused for a second before continuing seriously, we share a lot of memories together, hopefully to many more.”

2023

You could hardly explain to yourself how quickly the time had passed. One moment you spontaneously flew over to Manchester, the next you already found yourself in Australia at the tournament that you had anticipated for so long.

Playing in the World Cup was one thing, but you would never have dreamed of winning the trophy. It still felt surreal. You had just won the World Cup Final against England.You saw Ona walking towards you with a wide grin on her face.

“Ona, we won!“, you cheered.

She wrapped her arms around you: “We did.“

“I can’t believe it yet.“ You escaped her embrace and took in the atmosphere of the stadium and the celebration of your team mates.

Ona stood beside you. “It’s insane, right?“

“Definitely.“

The words hung between you for a few seconds as you watched on.

Ona shook her head suddenly, smiling to herself like she had just realized what had happened in the previous ninety minutes: “We’re World Champions.“

“Oh yes. Remember when…“, you started.

Aitana joined you, placing one arm around each of you and finished your sentence: “We pretended we won the World Cup? Yes.“ With smirk she added: “Do you still know the choreo?“

Onas face dropped: “You’re not going to do that at the actual World Cup!“

“Come on, Tana, we’ll do it.“, you said decisively, pulling the midfielder with you.

There was a small routine of dance moves that you had practiced when you had still played at La Masia together and the actual World Cup felt like millions of years away. Sometimes those dance moves would come out to celebrate a particularly special goal but mostly, they were reserved for exactly this moment.

“Coming!“, Aitana joined you while Ona just shook her head.

Olga elbowed the defender in the side, watching you and Aitana dance in synchrony: “Ona, what are they doing?“

“Being idiots.“, she laughed.

At the same time, Aitana managed to pull her phone from somewhere to capture the moment in a selfie.

“Come on, the photo isn’t complete without you!“, you called over to her.

Ona rolled her eyes with smile: “Ugh, fine. But only for one photo.“

“Perfect.“, Aitana commented as Ona appeared between the two of you.

“Did it turn out cute?“, Ona asked, leaning over to see her team mates phone screen.

“It did.“

The celebrations continued the whole night. There was the initial celebration at the pitch which was then moved to the dressing room and lastly to the hotel. You had no idea what time it was or how many drinks you had but you were clinking your glass with the other players and yelling over the sound of the music: “Cheers, everyone!“

“Cheers, children.“, Alexia laughed, taking her sip from her own drink. She seemed way too sober for your liking.

“Ale, others are the children now.“, you explained to her with the most seriousness you could muster.

Jenni took a shot, grimaced and then said: “You’re still our children.“

“Exactly, nothing will ever change that.“, Alexia said with a gently smile.

“That’s embarrassing.”, Onas’s cheeks turning redder than before.

You were sitting in her lap and hid your face in her chest:” Agreed.”

“What are you doing?”, your friend asked giggling.

“Hiding from embarrassment.”, you mumbled into her shirt.

“So cute.”, Jenni hummed, who didn’t stop looking at you two.

“Let us alone!”, Ona begged the older woman.

She shook her head decisively:” No.”

“Please.”, you tuned in.

Clearing her throat Alexia got up from her seat:” Jen, time to leave the young lovers alone.”

“Fine.”, Jenni responded with a groan but nonetheless listened to what the younger midfielder said.  

“Come on.”, the Barcelona player winked at the dark-haired woman.

For a moment you and your best friend watched them leaving, before you turned around to question her, wearing a mischievous smile on your lips:” What do we do now with them gone, Oni?”

“Celebrate?”, the defender replied grinning.

“Yes!”, you nodded excitedly.

“But you had enough to drink.”, she noted with a laugh.

“Rude!”, you protested.

“It’s true.”, Ona observed.

Smiling mildly at you Aitana came to help her argument:”It’s.”

“See?”

“You two are no fun.”, you grumbled.

“I mean it’s a once in a lifetime thing.”, Ona remarked as she watched you joining the rest of players who were still dancing despite the exhausting final.

Amused Aitana was taking a seat next to the defender:” How does y/n still have the energy to dance though.”

“It’s the alcohol.”, she replied with an eyeroll.

“Definitely. Wanna bet she’s sleepy in like ten minutes?”, the midfielder asked smiling.

“Oh definitely.”, Ona nodded. She couldn’t keep her eyes off you. The soon to be Barcelona player was astonished at how effortlessly and elegant your dance moves despite your tipsiness.

Aitana’s prediction turned out to be true. With a little bit of help from Ona you reached the hotel room you two were sharing. Your eyes were already closed when your head hit the pillow:” I’m not tired yet.”

“Oh sure, I can tell. Good night, y/n.”, she chuckled.

“You too, love you.”, you replied about to fall asleep.

Suddenly Onas’s heart felt pounding hard against her chest when the defender pressed a kiss on your forehead:” I love you too.” She often told you how much she loved you but this time the words hit differently. It dawned on the player that she didn’t want you like a best friend. No the woman felt the urge to be your lover.

2024

“Aitana, I fell in love with my best friend.”, Ona confessed to Aitana with a heavy air of meaning.

A small smile was forming on the midfielder’s lips: “I know.”

“What do you mean you know?”, she glanced at her confused.

“There were so many moments in the past.”, Aitana began.

Still shocked Ona interrupted her:” I only realized it during the world cup final.”       

“In that case you’re very late to the party.”, the friend answered, her face couldn’t hide her amusement.

Bewildered, Ona exclaimed: “Tana!“

The midfielder just shrugged casually: “It’s true.“

“Oh, is it?“, Ona raised an eyebrow at her.

“Ask Ale and Jenni… and Mapi… and Leila. You could literally ask anyone in the team.“, Aitana chuckled.

“It doesn’t matter anyway.“

Aitana eyed her team mate carefully: “It does matter.“

Ona shook her head with a deep sigh: “No, you don’t get it. She told Ale that she doesn’t fancy me and wouldn’t go for her best friend.“

“Wasn’t that forever ago?“, Aitana asked, seemingly unimpressed.

“It was after our training… I feel so stupid…“

“She didn’t have an easy time here when you were in Manchester, Ona.“

“It wasn’t easy for me either.“, the defender admitted.

Aitana looked at her thoughtfully: “Maybe it’s time to talk to each other.“

Ona was quite for a moment before she nodded: “You’re right. Y/n and I need to talk.“

“You should.“

She pulled her friend into a quick hug. “Goodbye, Tana.“

“Bye, Ona.“

Of course, you were paired with Ona to share a room at Barcelonas next away game. Something must have conspired against you. Or Alexia had a hand in this. Ona and you hadn’t exchanged a single word since Alexias intervention after training a few days ago.

Of course, the silence in the hotel room was obnoxious. But you had no interest in changing that.

Ona was the first one to give in, sitting on the bed on her side of the room: “Y/n, stop ignoring me, please.“

“Bold coming from the person who ran away.“, you retorted. You refused to even look at her and instead focused on putting away your clothes.

“I didn’t run away!“

Slowly, you turned to her: “Yes, you did. When Ale talked to me about us.“

You expected her to object but she just looked at you with pleading eyes: “Please, can you just listen to me?“

You sighed reluctantly: “Alright.“

“Thanks.“

“So?“, you prompted her impatiently as soon as she stopped talking.

“Y/n…“

“Yes?“

You could tell that Ona struggled to get the words out but the suspense was almost killing you.

“I like you.“, she finally said.

“More than a best friend?“, you asked, surprised by how hoarse your voice sounded.

“Yes.“, Ona nodded.

You shook your head. Your gaze directed towards the ground, you whispered: “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.“

Ona had gotten up from the bed and bridged the gap between you two. Her hand gently found your cheek, forcing you to meet her eyes. She was so close, you could count the freckles on her face.

“Can it really ruin our friendship if we both want it?“, she asked quietly.

You slowly shook your head: “No, probably not…“

“I think we should try it.“

For the first time, your brain was silent. There was no counterargument you could think of. There was just your heart hammering in your chest.

“Agreed.“, you breathed.

And before you knew it, your lips were on your best friends. Ona hummed into the kiss, pushing harder against you and parting your lips with her tongue.

It knocked you off balance. You landed on your bed, Ona on top of you. You both giggled but refused to remove your lips from each others.

“Oh. My. God. Finally!“, Mapis voice called out, startling you.

“Mapi!“, you yelled at the exact same time, looking at your team mate who had just stumbled into your room.

She flashed you an innocent grin: “Sorry.“

“What do you want anyway?“, Ona asked, a slight hint of annoyance in her voice.

“Uhm… I was about to tell you that we’re starting to have dinner?“ There was no sign of remorse on Mapis face, just pure amazement at what she had just walked into.

“We’ll be there soon.“, Ona replied politely.

“Just give us a few more seconds.“, you added.

Mapi smirked: “You two know that Ale will sense it immediately?“

Ona nodded: “We do.“

“That’s why we need time to prepare ourselves for it.“, you joked.

“Okay, See you later.“ She disappeared through the door with a wink.

The two of you were alone again.

Ona bit her lip to hide a smile: “We don’t need time to prepare ourselves, we need time to make out. That’s what you meant right?“

“Yeah, I did.“, you admitted with a laugh.

Dinner could wait. Kissing all of your girlfriends freckles could definitely not.

#ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso community #woso #barca femeni #barca femeni x reader #espwnt #aitana bonmati #leila ouahabi #mapi leon #alexia putellas #jenni hermoso

[missmonsters2]

Mirror, Mirror | Two

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

PART ONE

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda oscillates between crying and being overcome with confidence to confess. She barely has time to reflect when the devastating news arrives that you have a date, and Wanda needs to formulate a plan—quickly.

Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.

*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*

Note: cue the shenanigans of date stalking and taylor swift. Put your hands together for the real MVP of this chapter: Yelena.

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Count: ~4.5k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

This week's philosophical question is: Is it gay to think about your best friend?

The short answer is no. The long, complicated answer is that it might be. 

There's logic and reasoning behind this because don't most people think about their best friend? Don't most people plan to have their best friend in the future? If not, then why would they be best friends in the first place?

Sadly, there's a rude awakening in Wanda's wobbly defense. Natasha is the only person to blame for blowing down her defense made of straw when Wanda chats with her on the phone in the evening while you're out for a photoshoot. 

"How's Maria doing?" Wanda asks.

"Good," Natasha answers, and Wanda can hear the tap water running and realizes the redhead is doing the dishes. "She'll be coming to visit during Christmas."

"Oh, you must be very excited!" Wanda beams. If it were her, she'd be ecstatic to be seeing you after so long. 

"Yeah, it'll be good to see her. I think she's bringing her girlfriend, Sharon. They've been seeing each other for a few months, and she doesn't have anyone to spend Christmas with since her grand-aunt passed away.

"Oh," Wanda's voice is low, brows furrowing. "That seems very fast if she's coming to spend a holiday with Maria. How do you feel about it?"

Natasha hums. "Happy, I guess? I haven't met Sharon, but I've been hearing good things about her. She's able to keep up with Maria's busy life as she's got her own, but they make time for each other."

"But what if Sharon's wrong for Maria, or Maria ends up getting hurt."

"Then I'll break Sharon's legs, but Maria's a big girl. I'll be there for her, but she'll be okay," Natasha chuckles.

"But—"

"Wanda, what's with the questions about Maria?" Natasha cuts off. "Is it something with Bug? Are you worried about Raye? She's told me they haven't even gone on a first date yet; why are you so worried?"

"It's not about that!" Wanda said defensively. "I mean—I am worried, but I just don't want her getting hurt. She's my best friend; she deserves someone perfect. Don't you want someone perfect for Maria?"

Even as the words came out of Wanda's mouth, she grimaced because she was nowhere near perfect herself. 

"Of course I do," Natasha sighs. "But unless Maria is hurting, I'm not going to get overly involved with her love life. She'll go at her own pace and update me as she goes."

"But how will you know if Maria is going to continue living away? If she gets serious with Sharon, will Maria still plan to move back here? How will you guys plan on having a wedding at the same time and picking a house in the same neighborhood?" Wanda asks seriously. Her tone is distraught because it feels like Natasha doesn't care about her best friend at all! 

There's a moment of silence on the other line before Natasha says, "We don't plan for that. I mean, I'll be bummed for sure if Maria doesn't move back but we'll always be best friends. We'll visit each other and keep in contact as often as we need, but we don't need to physically be in the same place."

And another realization slides into place. 

"How are you guys best friends?!" Wanda yells into the phone before she hangs up without another word. 

Wanda knows that she'll have to call Natasha later and apologize and say she's on her period or something, but right now, with her eyes hot and wet, she digs her face into her pillow and cries instead.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

"Hey, I need to head out for another shoot today. Do you want me to pick up anything for you?"

Your voice muffles through Wanda's closed door. You've come in a few times, but Wanda had stayed in bed and pretended that she might've been under the weather. 

"No," Wanda says loud enough so you can hear it. "Have fun, though."

"I'll be home soon and make you some paprikash, but there's some chicken soup in the fridge for you if you want some while I'm gone," you reply. Wanda momentarily hears your hand land on the doorknob, but you don't turn it and come in. "Feel better, brat."

You don't wait for Wanda's response even though it is a quiet, "Thanks, stinky."

Alone in the apartment once more, Wanda sighs. She's been all over the place emotionally since she last talked to Natasha on the phone. She later sent a voice memo through text apologizing and said her period just came, which explained all the craziness. Luckily, Natasha was kind enough to leave it be, but they haven't chatted much since then—mostly on Wanda's end. 

Wanda's been caught between wanting to spend more time with you and distancing herself while sorting through her feelings. It was so easy at that moment to leave Vision and feel intense jealousy of Raye, but now in their own little bubble, everything was unraveling like a poorly wrapped present. 

The only saving grace was that you and Raye couldn't align your schedules to go on a date anytime soon. Raye was out of state currently and was supposed to be traveling for work for the next few weeks, and you were confirming projects that were supposed to be for the entire month. 

The extra time was sorely appreciated. 

In short, Wanda has cried 8 times in the last week while equally getting the inspiration almost to confess 7 times. 

There was a nagging fear, though. What if you didn't feel the same? What if Wanda was reading this one gigantic sign wrong, and you simply just liked brunettes with green eyes?

Or, what if you did feel the same and things didn't work out? What if the two of you date, and it goes wonderfully well before it ends? It doesn't matter what causes the end; just what if it did?

In either scenario, things would never be the same, and Wanda would lose her best friend of 10 years. 

Although, Wanda reasons that even if she confessed and you didn't feel the same, she wouldn't actually lose you. Sure, things would never be quite the same, but the friendship would continue. They've endured much worse, and Wanda would probably get over her feelings. 

Probably. 

Because if she didn't, well, Wanda wouldn't know what to do. She's lived too long of her life with you; she can't think of what it'd be like without you. Logically, she knew she'd survive, but there'd always be a part of her missing. 

Sometimes, Wanda thinks there was always a part of her missing until the day she met you. She can still remember 10 years ago like it was yesterday.

"Wanda, it'll be fine," Pietro's accent was thick and heavy, and Wanda refused to say anything out loud to acknowledge it. 

The girls in her class were already making fun of her accent, and her attempts to talk to them were rebuffed with looks as if they couldn't believe she dared to speak to them. 

It was too difficult, Wanda thought. It was too difficult to make friends when she transferred here mid-year, and everyone had already formed their cliques since elementary.

It was hard enough with the growing changes in her 14-year-old body, and she already felt awkward all the time—the giggling behind her back and to her face wasn't helping. 

Wanda wanted to go back home to Sokovia, except there was nothing left to return to. The war had reduced everything to shambles, and everyone else in her family was happy to have been able to seek refuge in America—Rochester, specifically. 

Wanda knew she should be grateful, especially since many of her aunts, uncles, cousins, and other extended family couldn't escape. She never really had too many friends, but the few she did went to Canada, and she knew she'd unlikely ever talk to them again. 

It was a lot of change, and Pietro was the only person who understood her at this new school, but even he couldn't do much since they shared no classes together. Plus, Pietro had still managed to make a friend, and Wanda didn't have the heart to make him sit with her at lunch every day. 

"Do you want me to eat lunch with you? I can ask Sam to sit with us," Pietro offered, but Wanda shook her head. 

"Are you sure?" Pietro asked again, preparing to sit with Wanda anyway, but Wanda shook her head.

"No, it's fine. I'm just going to eat my lunch quick and head to the library to catch up on some assignments," Wanda mumbled quietly, waiting for some girls in her class to pass by before she said it. 

"Okay," Pietro said, sighing since he was conflicted about staying with his sister or heading off to hang out with his friend. But at Wanda's insistence, he merely told her where she could find him if there was anything and took off with one last glance.

When Pietro was fully out of sight, Wanda took a seat alone at an empty table, pulling out her lunch reluctantly. She was quick to notice that the American kids typically brought a plain sandwich or bought food from the cafeteria, which usually consisted of the same foods like pizza or mac and cheese. 

While the comments about the food she brought were also embarrassing, Wanda didn't have it in her to ask her mother to make something else. Money was tight, and asking to add other things to the grocery list just so she could fit in didn't seem worth it when it wouldn't do anything about the fact no one wanted to talk to her. 

So, Wanda pulled out the finomfőzelék with her breaded chicken breast. She still didn't open it and let her containers sit on the table. 

Wanda wasn't quite sure what was causing it. Maybe it was just this specific instance of sitting alone, or maybe it was the last week and a half of enduring this, but Wanda felt her eyes burn and water. She willed it with everything she had inside to not let it fall and took a deep breath. 

"Hi."

The sudden sound made Wanda's head snap up, eyes wide with surprise. You stood there, and Wanda sort of recognized you from her classes. She thought she shared all but one with you. You've never contributed to the bullying but never stopped it or talked to her, either. 

Wanda vaguely recalled you've been sick with a cold the last few days. Her eyes shifted to look behind you, and she could see your friends looking very confused and beckoning you to come back to their lunch table.

"Hi," Wanda quietly greeted you back, wincing at how the accent could even come out with one syllable. 

You sat down suddenly, clearing your throat. "Can I ask you something?"

"Okay," Wanda replied warily. 

"Do you practice witchcraft?"

The question stumped Wanda.

"What?" 

"Do you practice witchcraft?" You repeated, looking serious. 

"No," Wanda frowned, so perplexed that she couldn't even be upset about her accent. "I don't. Why would you think that?"

"Well, Hela has been spreading rumors that you're a witch from Sokovia, and that's why Mr. Coulson passed away suddenly when you came."

Then, it's suddenly so clear why no one has been talking to her. 

"But if you're not a witch cursing people to death, then that's cool," you said, interrupting Wanda's thoughts. "I wanted to ask you that earlier but then I got sick for a few days. So, do you want to hang out with me?"

Wanda just stared at you, her heart racing because finally, finally, she was going to have a friend. "Yes," Wanda replied quickly, smiling. "That'd be...cool," she repeated your slang. 

"Cool," you smiled back before pointing at her food. "Noticed you bring different food every other day. Can I try some? I'll trade you some of my sandwich. Heads up, though, my mom has been experimenting with food. This week was Chinese food, so beef and broccoli might be between the bread."

Wanda smiled at the memory, the ends of it tapering off. You changed her life, and even when Hela made fun of you, you shut her up with a comment about how she stuffed her bra. It was devastating to a 14-year-old. 

After that, the two of you were inseparable. You still occasionally hung out with your group of friends, but you definitely drifted to spend time with Wanda. 

Wanda wonders if it was actually at that moment that she fell in love with you, but at 14, she didn't know how else to interpret it other than friendship. 

You and Wanda didn't meet Nat, Steve, Bucky, and all the others until high school when the other districts were poured into one school. Since then, so much has happened. 

Your parents divorced.

Wanda's mother passed away from cancer. 

You dated Sam very briefly, giving him your first kiss and then shortly breaking up with him after. 

You came out to her, scared, hesitant, and so happy when Wanda didn't care. 

Wanda started to date Vision.

Wanda wanted to go to NYU, and you happily went there with her. 

You confessed you had a crush on Natasha but didn't want to pursue it. 

Wanda's first break-up with Vision. 

You dated Jean Grey and cried when she left you for Scott. 

When you wanted to stay in New York City, Wanda decided to stay here too, rooting her career here with you. 

Wanda wonders if maybe actually she'd fallen in love with you several times over and over but didn't know how to interpret any of her strong feelings for you, categorizing them as friendship just as she did when she was 14.

"I'm home!" 

Wanda hears the apartment door close and the shuffling of you taking off your shoes. She looks at the time and realizes two hours have already passed. Deciding that she's wallowed enough, Wanda decides to get out of bed and leave her room, running her fingers through her hair to tame it.

When she enters the kitchen, Wanda finds you starting the process of making paprikash. It's something you've always done for her when she's sick, feeling down, or homesick. Yet, in this moment, something swells inside Wanda's chest, and she wants to burst out crying again.

"Oh, hey," you turn around and smile as you see her, and Wanda clears her throat and blinks the tears quickly away.

"Hey," Wanda smiles back as she makes her way towards you. "You didn't have to do that, you know. I'm feeling better."

You open your arms for her to dive into a tight hug. You smell like clean laundry and mint, and Wanda wants to bottle your smell. The tension in Wanda lately starts to drain from her body as you rub her back comfortingly. 

"Some paprikash never hurt nobody," you joke. "I'm glad you're feeling better, though, brat. Is it the break-up with Vis?"

"Huh?" Wanda's brows furrow. "No, not really. I haven't really thought about it."

"Homesickness?"

"Er," Wanda fiddles with the back of your shirt. "Kinda, I guess."

"Well, good thing Thanksgiving is in a few months. Your dad and brother are coming here this year, right?"

Wanda nods, brightening at the thought of seeing her family. "Yes, I hope papa and Tony don't get into it again this year."

"I think your dad gets a sick sense of joy of torturing the son of man responsible for all the weapons that destroyed Sokovia," you say dryly. "I think Tony's starting to catch on he's not serious, though."

Wanda chuckles, and you pat her shoulders before you pull away and take out a knife and chopping board. Watch sits on the bar stool, watching you cook, letting things fall into a comfortable silence. 

This was everything, Wanda thought.

Nothing could ruin this moment, and Wanda thought long and hard, building up the courage to say something about her feelings. She wasn't sure what to say, so she might start with something flirtatious, but Wanda would say it more sensually instead of the usual joking tone. 

"Oh!" You say without looking at Wanda, chopping the onion and garlic. "I forgot to tell you. Raye's flying back in a few days before heading out again, and we planned a date this weekend."

Everything is ruined, and Wanda can't tell if the onion or the devastating news is causing her eyes to water.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

"Why did you bring me here?" Yelena hisses.

"Because I can't bring Natasha!" Wanda hisses back. "And be quiet or else they're going to hear us!"

"Why not Natasha? She's your other closest friend," Yelena says, quieter as she grumbles. "You're making me miss movie night with Kate. We're supposed to watch Insidious and you're ruining my chances of making fun of her being scared."

"Because," Wanda exasperatedly says. "I've already had a meltdown with Natasha, and she's going to make all sorts of comments if she knows I'm doing this now. I can't be here alone since this is the type of restaurant only couples go to."

"You think I won't make comments?" Yelena raises her brow at Wanda, looking frighteningly similar to Natasha at that moment. "I thought you grew out of stalking Bug's dates in university."

Wanda doesn't reply, too busy staring at your table. Raye is making some kind of flirty comment, reaching across the table and lacing your fingers through hers. You're laughing—Wanda can tell with how your shoulders shake. 

The restaurant you've chosen to take Raye to is a slightly upscale steak restaurant. You've ordered cocktails, a bottle of wine, and two appetizers to start. 

Raye's biting her bottom lip suggestively before she takes a sip of her wine, her index finger is stroking the back of your hand, and Wanda's wondering if she can bribe a waiter to spill a glass of beer on Raye accidentally. 

"Seriously, I know you're best friends, but this is out of hand. Just confess before Raye steals your girl and they get married."

Wanda whips her head back towards Yelena, eyes filled with indignation. 

"THEY WOULD NEVER—"

"SHHH," Yelena hisses, and they both have to hide behind their menus when you turn around and look. "Jesus Christ, Maximoff."

"They would never get married," Wanda huffs before peeking outside her menu to see that you've returned to your conversation with Raye. But then she turns back to Yelena. "You know about my feelings? Did you always know? Did you—"

"Shut up," Yelena groans. "No, I was just fishing, and you're the sucker I caught. I mean, was there a time I thought you guys were too close? Yes, but it eventually became normal."

The two of them put their menu's down when it's safe, and Yelena seems to be carefully planning how to explain her thoughts. 

"We've all accepted that you guys are very close, but you both kept dating different people—you specifically only dating boys and then Vision. It worked out that we were all going to NYU, but did you know that Bug had an offer to study abroad and do an internship that would've accelerated her graduation and then career?" Yelena carefully looks at Wanda's face.

"What?" Wanda frowns. She vaguely remembers you mentioning the program but recalled you dismissing it. You didn't tell her you were offered a spot in the program. "No, but I mean, she was building her online platform, and it was taking off. She didn't need to do an internship."

"No," Yelena agreed with a shrug, "but it wouldn't have hurt. I suspect she couldn't stand the idea of being away from you for a year. Just like how you turned down the job offer in LA at graduation when you knew she would stay in NYC."

"That wasn't—I just—" Wanda huffs. "I like where I am now. My work is flexible." 

"Yeah, but being in public relations, you could've been making twice the amount you are now," Yelena raises her brow again. "Although, at this point, I suspect you both chose adaptable careers in case one of you wanted to move to another city."

"That's not true," Wanda protests.

"Do you even like being a PR?" Yelena asks. "At least Bug loves photography. You, on the other hand, have a talent for PR, but it'd be just as easy for you to do anything else."

"I do like it," Wanda stresses. "It's easy, and the clients I've got keep me busy enough. Just because I don't spend all my time on it or talk about it doesn't mean I don't like it."

"But—"

"Enough talking, our food is coming, and you better be ready to leave at a moment's notice," Wanda cuts Yelena off as the waiter arrives and sets their food down. 

"Worst. Date. Ever," Yelena deadpans.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

As it turns out, Raye lives relatively close to the restaurant as you walk hand-in-hand back to her place.

And not too far behind, Wanda and a reluctant Yelena trail from a distance. 

"She's not going to Raye's house, is she?" Wanda whispers with a frown.

"Why not?" Yelena grunts, adjusting her leather jacket. "She has casual flings all the time, and by the looks of their date earlier, it went very well."

"Not. Helping," Wanda glares at Yelena. They enter a street filled with apartments, and Wanda is careful about not following too close and walking under the streetlights.

"This is psychotic," Yelena groans. "Can't we go home? I feel like a literal serial killer out here."

Wanda doesn't respond, just staring ahead as they continue to walk. You're swinging your hand back and forth, interlaced with Raye's. There's giggling, and Raye keeps leaning closer to say something to you. 

There's so much sexual tension that it's palpable from here, and Wanda wishes there was a serial killer out here. 

How was Wanda going to stop this? How was Wanda going to prevent you from going home with someone else?

Wanda picks up a small rock and chucks it hard toward your general direction, hoping to spook the two of you apart. Except, her aim is so terrible that it flies completely left and hits the car beside you instead.

The car alarm goes off, setting off flashing lights and a very, very loud beeping noise.

"Wanda, what the fuck—" Yelena is cut off when Wanda suddenly shoves her down into a bush and dives next to her. "Ow, you fucking—" Wanda slaps her hand over Yelena's mouth.

You and Raye look behind, completely perplexed, when no one is there. You try to check out the vehicle, but other than a small dent, nothing is wrong with the car otherwise. Since neither you nor Raye caused it, you continued walking.

It turns out Raye lived in the building just a few steps ahead. You both stand at the door, holding hands before Raye throws her arms around your neck, smirking. 

Wanda's about to pick up another rock when Raye moves in suddenly for a hot, searing kiss.

And when Wanda watches you kiss back, her hand goes slack. Something awful builds in the pit of her stomach, and there's nothing Wanda can do when she watches you go into the apartment. 

Yelena watches Wanda's crestfallen face and sighs. "Wanda—"

"Let's just get back to the car and go home," Wanda mutters as she stands up, not bothering to brush off the dirt, leaves, or twigs from her hair. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

The car ride home is sickeningly pathetic—a new low for Wanda. 

"PLEASE DON'T BE IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE. PLEASE DON'T HAVE SOMEBODY WAITING ON YOUUUU—" Wanda hoarsely cries out, tears streaming down her face. She's off-tune, and she's screaming more than she is singing. 

"Oh, god," Yelena sighs, bringing her hand to her face in embarrassment in the passenger seat. They've stopped at a red light, and the car beside them is staring at them strangely. "This is sad for even you, Maximoff."

Wanda doesn't even acknowledge that she heard Yelena, only belting out, "I'LL SPEND FOREVER WONDERING IF YOU KNEW—"

"Just kill me, just kill me, just crash this car and kill us both," Yelena mutters to herself. 

The house is dark when Wanda returns, not that it should be any surprise. Deep down, though, Wanda hoped you'd return home and somehow beat her to it. 

Wanda's eyes feel tired and raw from crying the entire way home. Yelena gave her a reluctant hug, mustering all her kindness into rubbing Wanda's back and kissing the crown of her head when it was buried in her friend's shoulder. 

Pulling out her phone, Wanda looks at her texts. One from work, a couple of Natasha, one from Vis, and one from Pietro. She stares at your name in her messages, but nothing comes even if she wills it. 

Instead, she shoots you a quick "hey :)" and puts her phone away. You'd unlikely answer, but Wanda couldn't help herself. 

Sighing, Wanda gets ready for the night, trying to not let her mind drift on what activities you and Raye could be doing.

Please let it be scrabble, please let it be scrabble, Wanda thinks as she finishes brushing her teeth. 

As she walks towards her room, she pauses. It's unlikely you'd return until tomorrow morning, maybe even noon. Biting her lip, Wanda turns and walks into your room instead, crawling into your bed under the sheets. She pulls the blanket up to her chin, inhaling your scent slowly.

It both comforts her and makes her heart twinge. 

After an hour, sleep falls upon Wanda easily, and she's nearly in a deep sleep when the lights suddenly turn on, and a yelp is heard.

Wanda wakes up suddenly, shooting up with her heart pounding that it's a robber, but it's just you standing at the door with your hand over your heart and chest heaving. 

"Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me!" You scold Wanda. "I totally thought you were my sleep paralysis demon!"

Wanda rolls her eyes at the comment but frowns as you calm yourself and rummage through your closet for sleeping clothes. "What are you doing at home? I thought you were going to sleep over at Raye's."

"She got a call in the middle of everything. It was her sister or something having some kind of meltdown. Raye says her sister can be dramatic, and it happens once a month, but she couldn't really hang up. I got sleepy waiting, but I didn't wanna crash there to just sleep on a first date," you answer. 

"I'm sure you would've gotten some in the morning," Wanda mutters.

"I guess, but feels weird since it'd definitely be rushed," you take off your jacket and socks before heading to the bathroom. "It's fine, we'll probably reschedule for another date." 

"Perfect," Wanda sighs as she starts to get up. 

"Stay there, brat," you tell her as you stand at the door. "If you're gonna sleep in my bed, you better commit to the sleepover."

Wanda sticks her tongue out at you, which you return before you leave.

Tapping her fingers against the sheets, Wanda smiles. Maybe the night wasn't so hopeless after all. 

PART THREE

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x y/n #avengers imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #modern avengers au #Elizabeth olsen x reader #mm: my fics

[queersolar]

Hilson Masterlist:

A bunch of fics I’ve read in the last month, month and a half. All works are completed and over 9,000 words per fic.

My Love’s an Arbutus - Rated G

House gets a soulmate, WIlson gets Hanahaki. It ends suprisingly well for both of them.

Handle with Care - Rated G

This is the story of how James Wilson ended up on his best friends doorstep with a baby in a carseat he’d stolen from the maternity ward, and the chaos that followed.

A Thousand Teeth (And Yours Amoung Them) - Rated T

Sometimes, when House gets too overwhelmed by his emotions, he gets a little bitey. This is five times House bites Wilson, and one time Wilson finally bites him back.

Systemic - Rated T

Ever since Wilson moved in, House has presented with some inexplicable symptoms. Fortunately, he has a team of talented doctors to aid him with his diagnosis.

Touch Therapy - Rated T

It’s not that House needs the human contact. It’s just that when you’re sharing an apartment, these things happen sometimes.

I Never Sleep With Married Men - Rated T

House and Wilson are married. It’s not what you think.

Double or Nothing - Rated T

House kisses Wilson’s cheek as part of an ‘act’, it feels too natural to him, so, of course, he has to turn it all into a game, Wilson catches up pretty quickly. The duckings try to not get scarred for life.

The Line of Thought - Rated T

Cameron, Foreman, and Chase keep on trying to get into the little details of House’s love life. House doesn’t like that one bit.

In the Eye of the Storm - Rated T

House does not want Wilson to invite his subordinates over for dinner, and he definitely doesn’t want them to be stuck there due to an unexpected snowstorm. But could the two of them find what they need?

Drew Stars Around my Scars - Rated T

James Wilson loves Gregory House in secret, but perhaps he is closer to knowing than he realizes.

Oreos, a Cane, and a Hell of a Lot of Diapers - Rated T

Hilson AU in which House and Wilson are waiting for the birth of their two babies. Watch them survive their first few weeks of parenthood along with the struggles it takes to be a parent.

Impossible - Rated T

“Wilson, hey-“

“…This is James Wilson. I can’t get to the phone right now, but if you leave a message, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Oh.

There was a long, sustained tone, and House cleared his throat.

“Wilson. I’m sorry for what I said to you in January. It was over the line, and I shouldn’t have gone there in the first place. I know you don’t want to talk to me, and… I’ll respect that. I just wanted you to know that I’m…”

He looked down at the flowers.

“I’m sorry.”

House and Wilson both have Hanahaki Disease, and would rather die than give up their feelings.

No Need to Worry (Making Up Your Mind) - Rated T

House makes the mistake of telling his mother he can’t join her for Christmas because of his new boyfriend. Somehow, this becomes Wilson’s problem.

Something to Prove Series - Rated T

Something to Prove

When House suddenly want to initiate a relationship with Wilson, Wilson is overjoyed. The feelings he’d held for years are finally mutual. Or are they?

Marathons

House and Wilson decide to let the other people in their lives in on the fact that they’re dating. But no, they can’t just sit them down and tell them. Of course not. That would be too boring.

After School - Rated T

Gregory House is incredibly bored with his life when James Wilson is hired to teach Anatomy & Physiology alongside him at Princeton Plainsboro High School. Though he wants to maintain that same monotony he’s grown comfortable with, House quickly finds out that one school year can change a lot.

Life’s Harsh and Sweet Lessons - Rated T

House and Wilson find out that a simple act of kindness can turn into something so much more for all involved. (I love this fic so much. They’re just gay dog dads.)

Losing Balance - Rated T

There’s a new case for House, in which Wilson gets stuck by chance. The relationship between the patiend and his best friend brings up new issues House and Wilson have to deal with. While the first simply chooses to ignore them, the second is forced to face the changes in their friendship and the influence that the people around them have on it.

Gaseous Nebula - Rated T

After a hard day at work, House and Wilson intend to spend their evening watching the Princeton Philharmonic Orchestra. Instead, the building collapses, leaving on of them trapped in peril and the other desperate for answeres. The chaos drives them to revelations about themselves and each other, but it may be too late.

Ship of Fools - Rated M

The Captain’s a tyrant and possibly a madman, but when the crew rebels it’s Wilson who gets caught in the crossfire.

Bait and Switch - Rated M

Wilson tricks House into participating in a bachelor auction to benefit the hospital.

Fool’s Gold - Rated M

Don’t threaten what isn’t yours. (Dragon AU)

Old Machines - Rated M

Wilson said, “So we’re just two friends who want to have sex with each other, who aren’t going to do anything about it.”

Spoken with the increduility of a beautiful person with low impulse control. House shrugged.

“We’ve been that for years. Why mess with success?”

Wilson was looking at his mouth. He sounded strained. “I don’t think what we’re doing qualifies as success.”

Not as Easy as it Looks on TV - Rated M

House and Wilson share an intimate moment. the likes of which Wilson had never seen before in their three year relationship. It drives Wilson to realize he wants to marry House, but of course it’s never that easy, is it?

That’s How Strong My Love Is - Rated M

For once, Wilson doesn’t fall into a relationship, much to House’s irritataion.

Fresh Feeling - Rated M

House is tricked into going on a team-building trip with his colleagues. He does far more bonding with Wilson than anyone else.

Love Is The Drug - Rated M

What happens when two best friends love each other to the point of hating each other? They try to date and sulk about it.

The More It Took Away - Rated E

House has been hiding this little secret of his for years. Too bad it’s coming back to bite him on the ass.

The Escalated Butt Dial - Rated E

He thinks it must be an accident. Because all he hears is shuffling and soft… clapping? He’s about to hang up and laugh because House butt-dialed him while drunk when he hears it.

A very, very obviously sexual grunt. A moan, if more specific. Whatever. Not whatever. He can’t really breath right now, or think; call back laterr.

He wants to hang up. This is an invasion of privacy. This isn’t okay. House butt-dialed him while masurbating, for fuck’s sake. And it’s not like he wants to listen. Right? So. Just hang up.

The One-Eyed King Takes All - Rated E

The classic crew plays strip poker.

You’re the Only One That Never Gets Old Series - Rated E

You’re the Only One That Never Gets Old

An accidental kiss… and a few taht are not so accidental.

Let’s Take A Breath (Before We Go, Go, Go)

House kisses Wilson to piss off an homophobic patient. It might ahve been his best idea yet.

Keep Me Where the Light Is - Rated E

House has his Earth shattering, (good) knee weakening, life changing revelation about Wilson at such an inopporune time, that he’s tempted to laugh. He would have, if he hadn’t been hands deep in his patient’s organs.

Absinthe - Rated E

Wilson wants a new apartment, House is up to no good, and strange metaphors abound.

Experimental Procedures - Rated E

An offhand comment leads Wilson to test out some unusual methods of pain relief for House. (They’re extremely effective.)

Familiarity (Breeds Contempt) - Rated E

House and Wilson stumble into a relationship, but they run into problems before long.

Around We Go Once More - Rated E

Stuck in a small university town out of the country with Wilson, House is up to day 104, of a ‘grounghog day’ style constatly recurring day scenario. Seeing as the day will repeat, he figures it would be safe to try and seduce Wilson; the one he’s always been attracted to, but never acted on it, for fear it would ‘ruin the friendship.’ This is not as easy as he planned, particularly as Wilson refuses to take him seriously.

Stay With Me - Rated E

House has always depended on Wilson’s friendship, but now he finds himself depending on him for his very life - and Wilson realizes that both mean more to him than he ever realized.

I’ll See You In Court - Rated E

Every year, the council chooses ten alphas to participate in the breeding run — this year Wilson has been chosen. He’ll be forced to bond with whichever omega he knocks up whilst he’s in heat. When House hears, he’s forced to take action. There’s only one way to get pulled from the yearly run, and taht’s to file an intent to bond. And in order to file an intent to bond, you need an omega willing to go through with it.

There’s only a week until Wilson’s heat, but luckily, House knows just the omega for the job.

Things That Go Bump - Rated E

Wilson has nightmares. House gets a headache. Everyone tries to diagnose just what’s going on between them.

If He Spends That Dough (Imma Throw Him a Bone) - Rated E

James Wilson loves to feel needed, so who is hOuse to refuse him?

Money, sex, and love is all you need. In that order.

Howler Tone - Rated E

The calls always happen late at night, and they’re extremely sporadic, with weeks, sometimes months bridging between them. They talk on the phone otherwise, of course; about patients, or dinner plans, or carpooling. Typical stuff. But the calls that always end a certain way always start a certain way.

House develops a new vice. Wilson, as always, enables him.

He Won’t Tell You That He Loves You - Rated E

In which Nolan pulls at the Wilson thread, and House can’t stop it all from unraveling. Repression is a hell of a drug.

A Valuable Friend - Rated E

Wilson has been recieving mysterious late night phone calls. He’s rather House kept his nose out of it - but we all know how well that goes.

Baby Mikey - Rated E

House gets a visitor that will change his life, while Wilson struggles to figure out exactly who he is and where he fits into House’s new life.

Buy Some Time, It’s On My Dime - Rated E

The one where House is a phone sex operator.

You’re So Fuckin’ Special (Run) - Rated E

It was full of pictures.

And all of them are of Wilson.

In Every Lie, In Every Truth That You’d Deny - Rated E

Wilson just needs someone to take care of while he recovers from yet another divorce. That’s all this is.

Ath least, that’s what House thinks.

A Patient’s Guide to Living with ICS - Rated E

House and Wilson share a hotel room at a medical conference.

Hooked (On Feeling Low) - Rated E

There are things even House cannot control.

Can Wilson continue picking up the pieces?

A Modest Proposal - Rated E

Tritter’s case agianst House still depends on subpoenaeded testimony from Wilson. To save House from losing everything, the doctors of PPTH decide on an unusal solution, which in turn leads to unexpected consequences. This is a story about the sacrifices we make that turn out not to be such great sacrifices after all.

Silk, Lace, and Satin Bows - Rated E

“What’re those,” House lilted, taking a firmer hold on the blanket and tugging, even as Wilson cluched the blanket to his chest, his eyse impossibly wide as he shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” Wilson gritted out, cheeks flushing hotly. “I just… I borrowed some underwear from Sam. It’s nothing. Just get out, House,” the younger man hissed, clutching the blanket more firmly to his chest.

The Marrying Kind - Rated E

The one where House is a wedding planner and Wilson keeps on getting married.

TGIF - Rated E

House is stuck living the same Friday over and over and over and over again. A Groundhog Day AU with a medical mystery, the pursuit of true love, and egregious references to Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell.

Correlation Does Not Equal Causation - Rated E

“This… this hasn’t happened before.”

“Most people say that in the opposite situation.”

Alternatively titled: Wilson Doesn’t Actually Have Whiskey Dick

Don’t mind me just adding another fic here.

Grin and Bear It - Rated E

In a world where soulmates can feel each other’s pain, Wilson had always grown up wondering if he really had a soulmate. Sure, he could feel the occasional twinge like that of a bruise or cut without actually seeing one, but he had always chalked those up to random aches and pains that everybody got.

Wilson would keep this mindset until both he and House begin feeling agonizing leg pain, and a realization dawning from it causes Wilson’s entire life and well-being to change forever.

I’m always looking for new Fics so if there’s a fic you think is missing from this list, let me know and I’ll check it out!

#house md #hilson #james wilson #malpractice md #medical malpractice #greg house #gregory house #hate crimes md #house #fanfic #masterlist

[lot-of-nothing]

Entwined (Ch. 1)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Since your youth, the relationship between Melissa and you has been complicated. In all of your years knowing her, she just can't admit that she isn't as straight as she thinks.

Warnings: Toxic Melissa, smut, and very veiled internalized homophobia

Authors Note: If ya like it, let me know and I'll write more.

On and off.

That’s how you would describe your relationship with Melissa to your closest friends. They would inevitably roll their eyes and make a face, annoyed with how Melissa had you wrapped around her finger.

It started in high school. She would start dating a new guy, he would leave her unsatisfied in more ways than one, and then she would find those missing pieces of her relationship in you. 

You were best friends after all…. and best friends would do anything for each other, right? 

The first night you spent together was always vivid in your memories. Her green eyes flashing with mischief before she took your hand and pulled it to her thigh. Mel told you how badly she was aching, how it was almost painful. That she needed her best friend to help resolve what her boyfriend couldn’t. 

She knew about your sexual orientation. She knew how hard it was for you to date. When you hesitated, Mel said it was like practicing for when you had a girlfriend. Only if she knew how beautiful you found her to be… that she was only making things harder for you. 

Young and naive, you gladly accepted her offer - desire flooding your senses as soon as she drew your hands to her body. She guided you through every motion and step, telling you exactly what she liked. Like a sponge, you soaked up every word and memorized every fraction of her body. Never wanting to forget a thing. 

Little did you know the knowledge would come in handy again… and again… and again.

—

“I should probably get going.” Mel breathed as she pushed herself into an upright position. You had been bathing in the afterglow of your sexual dalliance when you must have looked at her too yearningly. She didn’t want you getting too attached.

“I wouldn’t mind if you stayed. It’s no big deal.” You tried to shrug off her wanting to leave so soon. It was best if you played it cool rather than let her know how much you really wanted her after all these years. 

It was clear she didn’t give much thought to your statement. Slipping out from under your sheets, Melissa snatched up her underwear and bra from the floor. She was always in such a rush after you were finished, “I don’t want the neighbors gettin’ the wrong idea.”

That's what she had always told you - ‘I’m not gay.’ 

For years, you always had a biting remark in return. 

‘Yeah. It’s not like you just spent a half hour between my legs or anything.’

“What? Worried they might think you’re gay?” Your words were twinged with venom. Now, rather than wait for her to make the excuse, you threw it back in her face. It always irked you that she could say such a thing to you given all you had experienced with one another. 

“A woman can enjoy the company of women and not be gay.”

You scoffed, unable to contain yourself, “You’re delusional.”

Melissa’s lip curled and her brow furrowed. She always hated when you would get pissy with her, so she decided to snap back at you as she clipped her bra in the back, “I don’t need your shit, okay? I came here for a good time after my shitty date.”

You faked a smile and let the sarcasm drip from your tongue. “Glad to help.”

—

You knew the relationship wasn’t healthy, but this is how it always went. 

She would call. She would come over. You would fuck. She would want to leave right after. You would get pissed. Then you wouldn’t speak until she wanted back in your bed.

—

You gathered saliva in your mouth and then pushed your tongue between her folds, drenching Melissa’s sweet cunt in your spit. 

After the last sexual dalliance, you told yourself you wouldn’t end up on your knees for her again. But 45 minutes ago you received a partial nude from the redhead, and she had you reeled back in once more. It was a scandalous picture of her standing in front of her bedroom mirror with her hand between her legs. The caption she sent with the photo was ‘Missing you.’

While it was infuriating she could send a picture at random like that, you were in your car minutes later ready to drive over to her house. 

Your hands gripped behind her knees, keeping a gentle pressure to make sure she was spread wide for you. Her hands were buried in your hair to prevent you from lifting your face away from her swollen heat. But in all honesty, you weren’t planning on going anywhere until she came all over your tongue.

“Oh, fuck!” Mel whined, pushing her hips up to grind against your face. Her enjoyment made you smile, and sadly, a small ounce of hope lingered in the back of your mind that maybe you could fuck her good enough that she would want to be with you.

“Yesyesyesyes… God, you are incredible.” Melissa hissed out, chasing her orgasm through rough bucks of her hips.

You pulled back, fighting against the grip for her hands. You provided her with a singular lick to her cunt and then paused, teasing her, “You want to come?”

“Yes~”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

“Good girl…” You hummed, pulling away entirely to retrieve the strap. 

—

She had barely recovered from taking a pseudo-rage filled fucking when she crawled from bed. Her legs wobbled underneath herself as she wrapped herself in a robe, trying to make it clear a third round wouldn’t be an option. “I guess you better be goin’.”

“Sounds good.” You took the hint with grace, choosing to let her statement roll off your back rather than stewing on it. You slipped from the bed, unclasped Melissa’s strap (that she kept around just for you), and tossed the sex toy on the bed. You then proceeded to get ready in silence, not offering anything to Melissa that might display your displeasure. 

The redhead was slowly unnerved by your silence as you zipped up your trousers and pulled your shirt over your head. She stared at her nail beds, trying to start casual conversation, “Gary proposed.” 

You glanced up at her quickly, brow furrowed in angry questioning. While you were not proud of how easily Mel could reel you in, you wouldn’t have come if she was still in a relationship let alone engaged. 

Melissa noticed your incredulous look and finished explaining, “I said no.”

You breathed out a scoff as you tucked your phone in your back pocket and scooped up your sweater off the floor. “That sounds about right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Melissa was clearly unhappy with your tone, but you refused to glance her way - slightly enraging her further. 

Swiping your wallet and car keys from the bedside table you finally glanced over to where Mel sat on the edge of the bed. It was difficult to tell if she was more angry or embarrassed by your criticism, “I’ve learned the hard way, Mel. You’re hardly one to be tied down by something as trivial as love.”

Melissa was left speechless by your blatant honesty, and she could only stare as you gave her a curt nod, “I’ll see you around.”

—

She wasn’t gone for a half hour when you received a text from her - ‘Again tomorrow night? ;)’

It immediately forced you to roll your eyes. How you loved and hated that she was like this. One moment she would be so oppositional to any form of attachment, and then the moment someone ‘played hard to get’ with her, she would be fiending for their attention. 

What was worse is that you were no better than her. You replied almost automatically - ‘I am off at 4. Come over whenever.’

Link to Chapter 2

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #toxic relationship #if you like the fic then let me know. it was fun to write :)

[damiansgoodgirll]

can you please write about rhea x reader where rhea is into women let’s pretend!! and reader is her best friend and she doesn’t know if she’s straight or bisexual because like she’s attracted to women but she can’t understand so she’s very naive and she asks rhea for help? it can be fluff and smut i really don’t care! thank you so much if you do this ❤️❤️

rhea ripley x reader

‼️this is based off on some experiences i had lol, mention of sex, sweet rhea, i need her in my life lol, slow burn? kinda long-ish i guess and smut so stay away kids‼️

new experiences

“what you mean you don’t know?” rhea asked, sitting on the couch right facing you.

“it means i don’t know!” you kept pacing around and honestly rhea couldn’t handle it anymore.

“it’s a simple question, are you attracted by women the same way you are attracted by men?” she asked, again.

“again, rhea…i don’t know…yes, i guess” you replied.

“okay, let me ask you this…does liv, becky, shayna…i don’t know, beyonce, attract you?” she asked.

“i mean…yes, they’re all attractive women, like damian and finn are handsome men but that doesn’t mean i want to be with them…you know, sexually” you said, avoiding her look.

so this is what it was about.

rhea always knew you were attracted physically both by men and women. she knew, you didn’t. but as far as she can remember you always dated men, you’ve never been with a woman before and she knew this thing was scaring you.

“what is exactly that you don’t know love?” she asked, a little more serious.

“i don’t know if - well - if i like women the same way i like men you know? everytime i see a good looking woman around i wonder what it would feel like dating her you know? like, dating a woman in general because it’s new to me…and i don’t understand, i can’t understand if what i feel is just simple attraction or something more…” you said, giving up and sitting next to her on the couch, facing her “it’s not just about being attracted by them…who wouldn’t be attracted by beyonce?” you joked, making rhea laugh too “but i don’t know if i would like something more the same way i would simply date a man…”

“have you ever tried? have you ever met a woman that your mind, said - fuck , i wanna date her and have sex with her so bad!?” she asked you.

“not really…because i don’t what i’m feeling…it’s all so confusing”

“i know, i’ve been there…and it took time for me too you know…you should start experiencing…meeting new people, meet a woman who can actually help you and have your mind cleared” she said, cringing at her own words.

rhea always had the biggest crush on you but she never said anything, until now at least. she didn’t know what you were feeling and she didn’t want to confuse you but the fact that you just confessed to her that you were “possibly” into women just made it easier for her.

“don’t you think i’m way past my age to experiment? this is something you do when you’re sixteen” you joked.

“absolutely no…i didn’t realise what i liked until i was twenty…it’s never too late love”

“okay…then how would i be able to meet women? how do you do it? gay bars? that would just make me really uncomfortable…i don’t know if…or even what i’m doing…” you asked her desperately.

“gay bars?” she laughed “what kind of shows are you watching?” you looked at her weirdly “yes, gay bars are a thing, and they’re actually very helpful if you just want to have and sex and then never see each other again…it’s not where i would start tho…maybe you can download some meeting app, you know start from there and see where it goes”

“i would love to do that rhea but the problem still remains…i don’t have experience with women! i don’t know where to start or what to do and honestly i don’t see myself opening up to them the same way i’m doing with you right now, i love talking and doing this with you because you’re not judging me and i’ve known you for years and i always knew you wouldn’t judge me for something like this but i don’t know what their intentions are…maybe i should just drop it…” you said, exhausted.

“you shouldn’t drop it…not if it’s making you feel like that, it’s okay and normal to be confused love…” she smiled at you.

“i know that but”

“no buts…you’re confused and i get it, it will take some time maybe for you to get to know you better but i promise you, in the end will be worth it” she said “plus sex with women is more pleasurable than sex with men” she joked, making you blush.

“that’s what i’m talking bout re! how am i supposed to know what it feels like if i never got the chance to experience it?” you said throwing your hands up.

she simply laughed. she didn’t expect you to over react about something like that. being curious? yes, but over reacting? she wasn’t expecting it at all.

“okay…let me ask you this simple question” she said and you nodded “have you ever kissed a girl? like in the past…a friend maybe?”

“never”

“never?”

“no rhea, never…” you said.

“not even as a joke?” she asked again.

“no…that’s probably why i’m also so confused…i told you, i never had any kind of experience…”

“would you like?” she asked.

“to what? kiss a woman?” you sarcastically replied and she nodded.

“kiss me” she smiled and your jaw dropped.

“are you sure?”

“i’m sure…you’re my best friend” how painful it was for her to say that “and since you’ve spent the last hour complaining how you never got to experience that, let me help you”

“won’t this ruin our friendship?” you asked a little worried.

“why would it ruin our friendship? it’s just a kiss…it doesn’t mean anything right?” she said and you nodded.

it means everything to me - she screamed internally.

“okay, you’re right…” you smiled at her as she moved closer to you. her hand gently caressing your cheek making you shiver “don’t be scared” she encouraged you “it’s like you’re kissing a man”

“but it’s not” you whispered “you’re not a man…”

“oh really?” she smirked, making you laugh “hey…if you want to stop or if i’m making you uncomfortable please let me know…it’s the last thing i wanna do” she said and you nodded.

it’s not like she wanted to take advantage of you or the situation - maybe a little - but you’ve been driving her crazy for the past years and now she saw a little hope to have a future with you. she knew she had to play her cards very well otherwise she would fuck up everything and the last thing she wanted to do was to scare you away.

“come closer…” she whispered “it’s okay love” you did as she told and moved closer to her. you were now face to face and having her so close was making you feel things…

“it’s just a kiss” she whispered softly and before you could say something back she laid her lips on yours. it took you a few seconds to reciprocate but you couldn’t deny how good you were feeling. when she felt how positively you were reacting, she deepened the kiss, teasing your lips with her tongue, asking for permission. you definitely didn’t back up. you let her do it, smiling into the kiss. her hands went behind your back, making you come closer to her body while your hands went back into her hair, softly massaging her scalp, making her whimper into your mouth.

you broke the kiss just to catch your breath and in that moment you realised in what kind of weird position you got yourself into.

if it was just a kiss why were you now straddling her lap?

“so?” she asked you, breathing.

“it was good” you smiled.

“yeah? you liked that?”

“yes but…”

“but?”

“i need something” she didn’t even let you finish.

“more?” she smiled.

“more” you nodded.

“do you trust me y/n?” she asked you, making sure you were comfortable.

“i do”

“good…lay on the couch for me beautiful” she said and you did as she told you.

“rhea?”

“mh?”

“are you sure this isn’t going to ruin our friendship? i care too much about you and i don’t want anything to change between us…” you said timidly.

“i promise you, this isn’t changing anything, i’m giving you the experiences you wanted to experience” she smirked and she smiled at you “but if at any point you want me to stop, you need to tell me okay? i don’t want to make you uncomfortable love” you nodded at her words.

she kissed you again, softly, biting your lips and sucking on them, making you shiver. it’s not the first time you’ve been kissed, but it was so different with her that you liked it even more.

“what do you usually like when you’re with men?” she asked softly.

“i-uhm…i don’t - i don’t know…”

“girl” she joked “i need more than that” making you laugh “what do you usually like when you’re having sex with men? there must be something you like the most…”

“i mean…we just have sex…” and in that moment rhea realised how important talking about this was. by the answers you gave her, she understood how you’ve never had this kind of conversations with your previous partners, making her wonder if they even knew what you liked or not. a part of her hated how careless your partners had been with you, they didn’t even take time to learn your body and that was making her mad.

“how does it feel when they first penetrate you?” she asked, your eyes opening to watch her.

“i mean…good? what kind of question is this” you slightly laughed.

“does it hurt? how is your body responding to that?”

“it hurts…but just for a moment, i think it’s normal tho…” you said, not sure of anything.

“yeah, if you’re a virgin…i’m not saying this to make you feel bad but your exes were pretty bad in bed, did they at least took time in getting you wet enough for them?” she couldn’t believe of what she was hearing.

“if they wanted -…”

“if they wanted? i’m so happy you’re single at the moment, please, stay single for a while” she joked again making you chuckle “forget about everything you know…i’m showing you how good sex can actually be” she said and you nodded.

she continued kissing you, not rushing anything. she wanted to take her time with you, making you feel good, showing you how sex was supposed to be. bonus point that you were her crush and she actually wanted to make you her priority.

she slowly began kissing your neck, leaving soft marks and bites. she was observing the way your body was reacting to her, watching if she was making you uncomfortable but when she saw no sign of hesitation, she continued.

“can i remove your top beautiful?” she asked gently and you nodded. she saw you in just your lingerie before but this was a completely different situation. her eyes fell open when she saw the black lacy bra that you were wearing. it was made for you.

she began kissing your breast, leaving marks and bites, making your whole body shiver.

“is it okay if i remove it?” she asked.

“yes” you barely whispered. lucky she was so close to you otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to hear you.

she let your bra fall onto the floor as she slowly teased your nipples, making them hard. she loved the effect she was having on you.

you, on the other hand, were more than confused. you loved everything that she was doing to you, but you realised that maybe you were loving it because it was her who was doing it with you. you always thought she was a beautiful woman but nothing more than that. you’ve never even thought about what it would have been like dating her and having a life with her.

your core pooled at just the idea of what rhea had in mind for you, and, smart as she was, she sensed it.

her soft lips touching and sucking on your nipples, making you moan in pleasure. her tongue traced your soft stomach, prepping it in kisses, making you feel loved.

her hands went to unbutton your pants, tracing them down and discarding them somewhere on the floor.

“rhea?” you softly called her.

“yes?”

“what-what…uhm…how do women do this?” she swore she tried her best not to laugh, not at you but she thought you looked cute when you were curious and, in some ways, innocent “don’t laugh” you scolded her.

“i’m sorry love…see, we have different ways of doing it, i can show you some…” she placed a gentle kiss over your thigh and you nodded.

her hands slowly moved your panties down, her face shocked when she saw how wet you were, and she barely touched you yet. she kept kissing your thighs but you stopped her the moment she was about to kiss your pussy.

“rhea?”

“mh?”

“what…what are you doing?” you whispered. everything was kinda new to you.

“what you mean?” she asked confused.

“i mean…is it normal? like, you know, what you’re about to do…no one ever done it so…i was just wondering” you confessed.

she was shocked.

no one’s ever went down on you and this was making everything even more exciting for her cause she had the opportunity to show you everything new.

“it’s more than normal baby” she reassured you “and i’m so mad that no one ever done this to you…if you were my girl i would spend hours buried in this sweet pussy” she said before gently kissing your clit, making you shiver.

she kept teasing you until you begged her for something more. and she listened to you begging as it was a preyer. she started sucking and licking at your clit, making you arch your back.

silently you were cursing your ex boyfriend for never doing this to you but in some way, you were actually happy that rhea was doing it to you instead.

your moans were filling the room. rhea’s experienced tongue continued the work while her eyes were switching from being close to watch your face.

to her, you were the most beautiful person in the world. especially in that moment.

mouth open, eyes closed, your hands grabbing and holding tightly the pillows on her couch, your legs beginning to shake.

it was pure bliss for you but it was pure bliss for rhea too.

“rhea…i-i think” you couldn’t even speak properly “i’m -…”

“i know princess…i can feel it, just let it go” she whispered against your pussy, making you come right there.

“oh fuck…” you moaned, your legs tightening around her head as you were shaking.

rhea helped you recoveries from your orgasm but didn’t stop there as one of her finger teased your entrance.

before you could say anything she silenced you with a kiss “you taste so sweet baby, you’re like a drug to me…taste yourself on me” and you did as she said. you could taste it on her tongue and it was making you trembling all over again.

“give me another one…” she whispered this time against your neck. her middle finger entering you in a swift move. gently thrusting in and out, her thumb circling your swollen clit. her free hand went to the back of your head, moving you closer to her face, she was making you watch her.

she needed so see how good she was making you feel.

“open your eyes love” she teased “look at me” and so you did.

it was hard keeping your eyes open, specially when she added a second finger inside of you.

“rhea…oh fuck”

“that good uh?” she smirked.

how she wished she could have you naked on her couch every single day.

“please…”

“please what love?”

you don’t know what you were begging her for, you just loved the way she was making you feel and even if it was a little too much, you couldn’t help but ask for more.

“don’t stop…please”

“i don’t plan on doing so…” she smirked keeping her eyes on you. staring at her was making you wetter and you felt you were about to come any second.

“rhea…” you moaned.

your mouth fell open and the your head touching the pillows beneath you. it was a silent scream, your breath sucking it and your eyes squeezing so hard. rhea thought for a moment that she broke you.

she was watching carefully how your body was reacting to the aftermath of your second orgasm. you were shaking and your breath still uneven.

when you opened your eyes again you saw her right in front of you.

“you okay there?”

“more than okay…” you whispered, still catching your breath.

“so…this is just a few ways of how we enjoy sex” she cracked a joke making you laugh.

“there more?”

“many” she whispered against your lips, kissing you softly “but i think it’s enough for today…”

“wait-…”

“is everything okay?” she asked a little worried.

“you didn’t…how can i…?”

she stopped you before you could continue “it’s not about me today, it’s about you. hopefully i’ve helped you a little more with your sexuality, or maybe i’ve confused you a little more…and if you want to learn more on how to please a woman i’ll be happy to help you out” she winked at you “but for today i think it’s enough…you’ve been so good to me, and i thank you so much for trusting me with this”

you took a few minutes to realise just how much care rhea was putting into this. it wasn’t just her helping you out with your sexuality, you realised there was something more. some unspoken words between the two of you. the way she was treating you, with such care and almost…love.

a tear fell from your eyes and rhea noticed too.

“hey…is everything okay?” she worried, thinking that maybe she overstepped too much and made you uneasy.

“yes…” you quickly wiped your tear as you slowly covered yourself with a blanket “it’s just…it’s more than okay…rhea, i can’t help you enough for this”

“you don’t have to-…”

“i have to…because for the first time in my life i’ve felt like someone really cared about me and i loved it…and i know i shouldn’t say this to you because you are my best friend and there’s nothing between us but you really made me feel loved…and i liked it” and in that moment you understood, it was rhea.

it has always been rhea.

the reason you were so comfortable around her, it came naturally. the way she always treated you, making you feel special, in some of her ways. it was her that you wanted, not any woman, but her.

you just didn’t want to admit it to yourself. maybe because you feared her rejection, or maybe because you feared your own rejection of liking women. but it didn’t matter anymore, not when you were feeling like that.

“i really care about you y/n…way more than just a friend” she confessed.

“what?”

“it shocked me that you didn’t realise it before. i’ve never dated other women because the only one i wanted was you” she said, timidly.

“but you’ve been with other women before…”

“nothing lasted tho” she said “not when those women weren’t you…”

“you mean that?”

“i mean everything i said. everything ive done with you tonight…it wasn’t just for a night…i’m here to help you to get to know yourself better, to teach you if you want to learn, i will always be here for you love…we don’t have to rush anything, we can take it slow and see how things go…if you want me” you’ve never seen rhea so vulnerable before and seeing this side of her was making you realise that you didn’t fully know her.

but god how you liked her. how you liked this new side of her, how you liked the protective side of her when you two went out, how she knew how to treat you.

“yes…yes i want this rhea…just…it’s all new for me, can we take things slow?” you hesitated asking her this. she said it wasn’t a problem but you’ve never met someone who was willing to take time in get to fully know you.

“love…come here” she hugged you “i promise you i will be patient with you…i want this new experience to be enjoyable for you, i don’t want to pressure you or anything…i promise you” she kissed you, softly. her hand caressing your cheek.

“okay…” you whispered.

“okay” she smiled against your lips.

maybe, for the first time in your life, you found someone who was really interested in getting to know you better, and you couldn’t believe that the person you were talking about was rhea.

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