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lolsmiley · 2 months ago

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should I moan or cry

Always Dripping — Lara Raj (18+)

✒️ explicit sexual content · oral sex · g!p power bottom!lara · multiple orgasms · spit play · anal fingering · overstimulation · aftercare (still horny) · 7th member!reader · barely any plot

Summary: In the same girl group, you and Lara are supposed to keep things professional—but behind closed doors, she fucks you like she owns you. It was supposed to be just sex. Except Lara wants more. (5.2k words)

The room still smelled like sweat and hairspray.

Rehearsal had just wrapped. Costumes were half-hung, half-forgotten. Makeup smudged, lashes uneven. Someone’s heels were kicked off near the mirrors. But none of that mattered now.

Because Lara was staring at you again.

From across the dressing room, she leaned against the wall like she didn’t care. Hair tied up but messy, damp at the edges from dancing. Her shirt was still riding up from their last number, exposing a sliver of taut, brown stomach, shimmering faintly with sweat. She hadn’t bothered pulling it down.

You tried not to look. Or maybe you wanted her to notice you looking. It was always hard to tell.

Someone cracked a joke nearby, laughter filled the space, but the tension between you and Lara was quiet, separate. Charged.

You bent down to grab your water bottle, and when you stood up, she was closer. Just a few steps. Just enough to feel the heat of her body when she passed behind you, not touching, but near enough to make your skin twitch.

“Careful,” she murmured, just for you. “You’re looking at me like you want something.”

You glanced over your shoulder. “You’re imagining things.”

She smirked, voice low. “No. I’ve already imagined it. Again. And again.”

Your heart skipped.

“Lara,” you warned under your breath.

But she didn’t back off. Her fingers brushed your lower back as she passed by. Just once. Light as air. Too casual to be scandalous. Too deliberate to be innocent.

You watched her disappear into the hallway toward her dressing room, her sweatpants slung low, waistband dipped just enough to tempt.

You told yourself you wouldn’t follow her. And for once you really didn’t.

Except when you got back home to your new dorm where each member finally got their own rooms, her knock landed soft against your door.

And when you opened it, she didn’t say a word, she just pushed you inside, her lips already parting, eyes already burning.

It’s dangerous, the way she looks at you, back resting against your headboard, one leg lazily bent, the other dangling off the bed like she’s not even trying. Her strong gaze locked on you, dark and slow, heavy with hunger but not desperation. Lara doesn’t beg.

She summons.

“Take it off,” she says softly, chin tilted like she’s bored. Her tone is quiet, a murmur, a melody, but it lands on your skin like a command.

You peel your shirt off, slow, letting your bra drop behind it. She watches your every move, lips parted just barely, her breathing already shifting. There’s a raw kind of want in her eyes, but still no urgency. She drips with control even now, stretched out in her tank top and boxers like the queen of someone else’s bed.

“Sit on my face.”

You blink.

She raises a brow. “I said… come sit on my face.”

There’s heat in your stomach, but your legs move before your brain catches up. She guides you wordlessly, fingers on your hips, pulling you up so your thighs are bracketing her head. Her warm brown hands complements beautifully against your skin as she lays back, eyes glittering.

Even now, beneath you, she looks powerful. A dominant bottom to her core.

You hesitate for half a second, and she smiles. That smug, lopsided grin that knows exactly what she’s about to do to you.

“Don’t be shy, baby. I want to taste you.”

And then her tongue is on you.

A sharp gasp leaves your mouth as her lips part around your folds, licking slow and deep, like she’s tasting something sacred. She doesn’t rush. Lara licks like she’s making a point. Her tongue flicks against your clit with a rhythm that’s both cruel and delicious, building heat slowly, layering it like silk.

You brace yourself on the headboard, hips trembling as her moans vibrate into your core. And she moans sweetly, high-pitched, almost delicate. The kind of sound that shouldn’t come from someone who acts like she could ruin you without lifting a finger.

“You taste so fucking good,” she purrs between licks. Her voice is muffled but still smug, dripping with affection and heat. “Grind on me. Come on. Ride it.”

You do. You grind on her mouth, your thighs shaking, her nose bumping your clit in perfect rhythm. She doesn’t stop, doesn’t flinch, just licks deeper, fingers digging into your hips to hold you down even as you whimper.

And when you cum, it hits fast, messy, gasping, full-bodied. You moan her name, and she just keeps going, tongue flicking through the aftershocks until you beg her to stop.

When you slide off her, panting, your thighs soaked and trembling, Lara’s face is wet, her lips swollen, her eyes wild.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and grins, voice syrupy and wrecked.

“I could eat you for hours,” she murmurs. “But I need your mouth now.”

You crawl between her legs, still catching your breath, tugging her boxers down to reveal her thick, dark cock, already hard and twitching against her stomach. She’s bigger than you remembered. Warm brown, veined, curved, leaking, a single drop sliding down the tip.

“Fuck,” you breathe.

Lara’s voice is soft again. “I know.”

She spreads her legs just slightly, enough to give you space, but not too much. She’s inviting, not offering. Still holding the reins.

You lick your lips and lower your mouth to her shaft, dragging your tongue along the underside slowly. Lara moans, high and breathy, her hand tightening in your hair.

“You’re so good at this,” she whimpers, voice so femininely soft, it makes your thighs clench again. “I love the way your mouth feels on my dick.”

You take her deeper, swirling your tongue around the head, and her hips jerk, the first time she loses composure. Still, her voice never stops.

“Deeper. Please. I want you to take all of me.”

And you do. You suck her slowly, hands working the base, watching her fall apart while still somehow holding on to that dangerous glint in her eyes. Even while moaning, Lara never really gives up control.

She doesn’t have to move to dominate you—she commands with her voice, her tension, the way she lets you worship her like a dark, divine heat.

When her abs twitch and she grits out a warning, you pull off with a wet pop.

“No,” you whisper. “Not yet.”

Her cock bobs between her thighs, slick and aching. She watches you through half-lidded eyes, breathless.

“Then sit on it,” she murmurs, smiling. “I want you to ride me until I can’t speak.”

Her cock is slick and flushed, lying against her stomach as you grind your soaked pussy along the length of it. It leaves a mess on her skin—thick, glistening trails of arousal coating the rich brown shaft. It twitches beneath you, responding to every movement, to the heat dripping from between your thighs.

Lara exhales like she’s holding back something primal.

She doesn’t say it, but her mind is burning. She loves how wet you are.

She can feel the slippery heat of you coating her, warm and silky and obscene. It makes her ache in the best way, cock heavy and pulsing, balls tightening as more precum beads at the tip.

You reach down, guiding her to your entrance. The moment the head of her cock presses against you, you both freeze—just breathing, just feeling. She’s so thick. You’re soaked, almost embarrassingly wet, but your body still stretches slowly to take her in.

Her mouth falls open when you sink down on her.

“Fuck,” she whispers, voice breaking into a whimper.

She doesn’t mean to make the noise so pretty. It just slips out—soft, vulnerable, ruined. And you feel all of it. The way her cock fills you, smooth and thick and hot, stretching you open in a way nothing else does. You can feel the subtle curve pressing against your walls, the pressure building, the slick of her precum mixing with your wetness.

She’s drenched. You’re wetter.

You bottom out, thighs pressed to hers, and just stay there for a second. She twitches inside you.

You can hear it—the squelch of your pussy clenching around her, the slick sound of your fluids mixing. It’s raw and filthy and perfect. You’re full, and Lara is pulsing inside you, lips parted, brows furrowed like she’s trying not to lose control.

Her voice comes out high and sweet, breathy and uneven. “You feel so good inside. So warm. You’re gonna fuck the cum out of me if you move like that.”

You start to grind, slow and deep, rolling your hips so her cock drags against your walls. Her moans start to break. She’s trying to stay dominant, trying to say something commanding, but her voice is laced with desperation.

In her mind, she’s losing it. She loves how tight you are. How you drip all over her, make a mess of her cock. How you ride her like you were made to. She can feel you milking her already.

You lean forward, pressing your chest to hers, letting your hips rise and fall in rhythm. Every time you drop back down, her cock sinks in deeper. Your wetness coats her completely, the creamy slick sounds filling the room.

“You’re so deep,” you pant. “It’s so wet. Can you feel how soaked I am for you?”

Lara’s nails dig into your ass, and she moans in response. Her eyes flutter shut for half a second, but she opens them again. Staring at you like she needs to memorize everything—your face, your pussy swallowing her cock, the way you tremble when her tip brushes your cervix.

You ride her harder, faster. Her stomach tenses. Your wetness starts dripping down her thighs, a mix of slick and precum and everything between. It feels endless. Messy. Perfect.

Your own orgasm starts to build again—tight and pulsing. You’re grinding down, clenching around her. She feels it. She grips your waist harder, her voice suddenly trembling.

“Fuck. You’re gonna make me—shit—don’t stop.”

You don’t. You want it. You want her to fall apart underneath you.

She tenses, thighs shaking, cock throbbing violently. And then she lets out a high, broken moan, so feminine it doesn’t match how deep she is inside you.

She cums hard.

Her cock jerks inside you as hot, thick ropes of cum spill into your pussy, coating your walls with every pulse. You can feel it—the texture of it, warm and heavy, sticky and spreading inside you. Some of it leaks out as you keep grinding, the sound of wet skin and slick fluids louder now, dripping down her shaft.

She’s still moaning, still breathless, but her voice drops into something low, shaky.

“I love how full you make me feel,” she whispers. “Keep going. I don’t want you to stop yet.”

You don’t. You chase your own orgasm, slamming your hips down harder, using her cock just as much as she uses you with her words. Her cum makes it easier—thicker, messier, and the pressure builds faster.

You cum with a cry, burying your face in her neck, pussy fluttering around her cock, pushing more of her release out onto her thighs and the sheets below.

Lara just holds you. Still inside you, cock twitching, still so hard it’s almost unfair.

She kisses your shoulder.

Your body trembles against hers, slick and flushed, still twitching around her cock as the aftershocks ripple through you.

Lara stays still beneath you, breathing heavy, one hand dragging softly down your spine. Her cock softens slightly, sliding out with a wet sound that makes you both gasp. You feel the warmth of her cum slipping out of you, thick and slow, pooling between your thighs and onto her stomach.

But she doesn’t move to clean up.

She just pulls you forward, lips brushing your chest, fingers gripping your waist again.

“Come here,” she murmurs.

You shift upward, your pussy dragging across the soft curve of her abs, slick with both your wetness and her cum. She hisses through her teeth. Her stomach flexes as you move, and you feel the texture of muscle, taut and slippery beneath you. It glides against your folds, smearing the mess between your bodies as her fingers start to rock your hips, gentle at first.

Her lips move to your neck, slow, open-mouthed kisses melting into your skin.

She licks up your throat, then down, sucking lightly between each kiss. Her mouth finds your collarbone, then lower. She nuzzles your tits, tongue teasing one nipple, then the other, sucking until the soft bites bloom into bruises.

“You’re so sensitive,” she whispers against your skin. “I can feel how wet you are. Still soaking me.”

Your hips rock harder against her abs, dragging your clit over the ridge of muscle, through the slippery, cum-coated heat. You whimper. It’s overwhelming—slippery, filthy, intimate. Her abs grind perfectly against you, the texture of her skin wet and hot, every inch of her body used to make you cum again.

And then, you feel it.

Her cock stiffens beneath you—fast and heavy—pressing up on your ass. The heat of her arousal is immediate, overwhelming.

Lara groans, voice cracking, low and dangerous.

“Fuck this.”

She shifts under you so suddenly it knocks your breath out. Strong hands grip your thighs, flipping you onto your back in one motion. Her body covers yours. Her hand grabs the base of her cock and guides it back to your entrance without a word.

She slams into you.

Hard.

You cry out, fingernails digging into her shoulders as she drives her cock deep, thrusting into you without pause, without mercy. Her hips slap against yours, her balls heavy against your ass, the sound of skin meeting skin wet and rapid, each stroke driving the air from your lungs.

Your slick explodes around her, the pressure and speed pushing her cum from earlier out around her cock, making the whole thing sloppy, loud, so fucking wet.

Lara moans, high and broken again, but her voice is tinted now with something wild.

“I need you to take it,” she pants. “I need to fill you again. I’m not done with you.”

You don’t even hesitate.

“Harder,” you beg, voice barely audible between your gasps. “Please, Lara—fuck me harder.”

Her teeth graze your shoulder.

“You want more?”

You nod, legs wrapping around her waist.

She grabs your wrists, pins them above your head. Her hips roll deeper, rougher, dick dragging through every sensitive inch of you. The texture of her shaft is slick and relentless, stretching you again and again until you feel dizzy from the fullness.

Your body bounces with each thrust, slick running down between your cheeks, soaking the sheets. You can’t think. You can’t breathe. You’re nothing but open heat and hunger and Lara’s cock pounding into you like she’s trying to ruin you.

Her voice drops to a whisper—still sweet, still feminine—but now sharp with obsession.

“You’re mine,” she says. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp.

She drives deeper.

“Louder.”

“I’m yours!”

Her cock twitches inside you, and she groans, dropping her forehead to yours. She’s so close, you can feel it, her entire body trembling above you.

And still, despite the roughness, the mess, the overstimulation, you whisper—

“More.”

You feel her start to lose rhythm, hips stuttering, cock pulsing harder inside you. She’s close. So close you can feel her release winding up, her breath hitching, moans breaking into smaller, sharper pieces. You wrap your legs tighter around her waist, trying to pull her deeper.

She slams into you again, deep and punishing.

And then—she stops.

Lara lets out a guttural, frustrated growl as she pulls out suddenly, her cock slick and twitching, the head flushed and leaking thick, hot precum.

“Fucking hell,” she breathes, voice shaking.

You whimper at the emptiness. You’re dripping—her cum, your wetness, everything sticky and hot between your thighs. Her cock drags across your slit, and it’s too much, too slippery, too good.

She leans back, straddling your hips, one hand on her cock as she slowly rubs the shaft against your pussy, not pushing in, just grinding. Her slick skin slides along your folds, smearing your juices together, pushing into your clit with every slow thrust.

She’s panting, her brows furrowed in restraint.

“You feel that?” she murmurs. “So fucking wet… I could slide in with nothing but the weight of my cock.”

You nod, body arching for her, desperate.

But she doesn’t give it to you. Not yet.

She keeps thrusting over you, cock riding the length of your slit, the mess building with every second. You’re both soaked, the head of her cock shining with your slick, trails of arousal stringing from your folds to her shaft. You can hear it—obscene, sloppy, sticky friction filling the room.

She closes her eyes, breathes hard through her nose. Trying to calm herself. To delay the explosion. To prove she’s still the one in control.

Then her eyes snap open.

She spits. Right into your mouth.

Your lips part without hesitation, and her warm saliva lands on your tongue, thick and heavy. You moan as you swallow it, tasting her, wanting more. She leans down, grabbing your jaw, her mouth crashing into yours in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss.

It’s disgusting. Perfect.

Tongues sliding against each other, breath exchanged hot and fast, spit mixing and dripping from both your mouths. She moans into you, biting your lower lip, licking into your throat like she wants to devour you.

You kiss her back just as hard, pulling her closer until your bodies are flush again.

She growls against your mouth.

“I’m not done,” she says. “Spread your legs.”

You obey, thighs parting wide as she grabs her cock and shoves back into you hard—no warning nor any hesitation. She pounds into you, rougher than before, her breath ragged, sweat dripping from her brow onto your chest.

You’re already soaked, but now the friction is loud, fast, uncontrollable. Her cock drives into you like it’s the last time, every thrust sending slick splashing out around her, coating your thighs, your ass, the sheets.

Her mouth is still on yours. She spits into you again mid-thrust, and you swallow it like it’s a promise.

“Say it,” she growls. “Say you fucking love when I use you like this.”

“I love it,” you moan. “I love your cock—please—don’t stop—”

Your voice breaks as she slams deeper, her tip kissing your cervix over and over again. Your pussy flutters around her, clenching greedily, your body so full you feel her in your stomach.

Her teeth sink into your neck, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to mark.

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” she moans. “Gonna fill you up again. You want it, don’t you?”

You’re already nodding before she finishes the sentence.

Your pussy tightens around her cock with every thrust, the walls fluttering, swollen and slick, straining to keep up with her pace. The noise between your bodies is deafening—wet, hard, relentless. Every time her hips slam into yours, it forces a loud, obscene squelch of fluids pouring out around her shaft.

“Then fucking take it.”

And this time, she doesn’t hold back.

You’re so wet it drips down your ass, spreading into the sheets below in sticky pools of cum and slick and sweat.

And Lara is fully unraveling.

Her voice is nearly gone—what used to be teasing and dominant has broken into breathy moans, choked whispers. Her brows furrow, lips parted, spit and sweat clinging to her mouth. Her cock pulses inside you with each deep thrust, the base now soaked and glossy from your combined mess.

She gasps. “I’m gonna cum—fuck—I’m gonna—”

You wrap your arms around her, hold her against your chest, and pull her in deeper. She lets out a long, sweet sounding moan into your throat, and then her cock twitches violently.

Hot cum floods into you, thick spurts shooting deep and fast, one after another, each push stuffing more inside until you can’t hold it anymore. You feel it leak out around her, spilling in slow, white streams down your crack as her cock jerks inside you, uncontrollably pulsing.

But she doesn’t stop.

She can’t.

Instead, Lara drops her full weight onto you, pressing your body into the mattress with hers, her sweaty chest sliding against your tits, her face buried in your neck, mouth open, panting into your skin.

And she keeps fucking you.

Her hips move slower now, but deeper, grinding her cock through the mess she just poured inside you, pushing it deeper, sloppier. Every thrust forces more of her cum to spill out, warm and sticky against your thighs.

You whimper into her ear. “Too much—fuck—Lara—”

She shushes you with a kiss to your throat, her voice hoarse, breath hot. “No, you can take it. You can take all of it.”

Her thighs tremble above yours. She’s twitching, her cock raw and sensitive, yet still buried deep inside you, grinding with desperate need. Her sweat slicks your stomach. Her breasts slide against yours with every movement, the heat between your bodies overwhelming.

She’s not speaking anymore—only moaning softly into your neck, her breath broken, her lips trembling where they press against your throat.

You wrap your legs around her back, locking her in. She groans, thick and needy, her cock pulsing inside you.

“You’re still hard,” you whisper, dazed, ruined, voice cracking with disbelief.

Lara doesn’t answer. She only thrusts deeper, slowly, hips stuttering from overstimulation, still chasing something deeper, darker. But you feel how much she’s trembling. She’s hanging on by a thread.

And that’s when a thought hits you.

You’re soaked. Her cum, your slick, sweat, it coats everything. Your inner thighs are drenched, your folds swollen, messy with the proof of how much you both needed this.

You slide one hand between your bodies, fingers brushing your own slit. It’s slippery, dripping, warm, perfect. You drag your fingers through the mess, coating them in your mixed fluids, and reach lower, behind her.

She flinches the moment your fingers brush over her ass.

“F-Fuck—what are you—”

But she doesn’t stop you. She doesn’t pull away.

Her body freezes above yours for half a second, and you feel her cock throb hard inside you, twitching violently, her jaw slack with shock.

You tease her rim with your fingers, slow, slick circles, letting your wetness lube her up as her hole clenches under your touch.

She moans. Loud. High-pitched, feminine, and desperate.

Her face buries deeper into your neck.

“You’re gonna drive me fucking crazy,” she pants, voice cracking. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

But you do.

You press one finger inside—slow, gentle—barely past the tip. She gasps, her whole body shuddering above yours. Her cock twitches again, thrusting instinctively deeper into your pussy. The feeling of your finger inside her, your walls squeezing her at the same time, and it breaks her rhythm completely.

She’s trying to keep fucking you, to stay in control, but her hips are grinding now, messy and frantic, her ass pushing back into your hand with each thrust. Your finger slips deeper, snug and slick, and her moans turn into whimpers.

“Please—don’t stop,” she breathes. “Just like that.”

You kiss her jaw, bite her neck, push your finger all the way in, then start to curl it slowly inside her. Her body is trembling hard now. Her cock drives in and out of you like she’s lost in it, driven purely by nerve and hunger, every thrust squelching through cum and slick that’s coating both of you, soaking the sheets below.

Your finger pumps in time with her hips, gently fingering her hole as she fucks you harder, more desperately. Her ass clenches around you, and she lets out another broken moan, buried in your skin, lost.

“Feels so fucking good—” she whines. “I’m gonna cum again—shit—don’t stop—don’t stop—”

The overstimulation hits both of you like a drug. Your pussy is spasming, sensitive and puffy, unable to stop clenching around her cock as it slides through the mixture of cum and slick. Lara’s body twitches each time your walls squeeze down.

She’s beyond words now.

Her hips start jerking erratically, not from rhythm, but need—the raw urge to keep you plugged, stuffed, marked. Every inch of her skin is slick with sweat, her scent mixing with yours, her cum mixing with your own arousal in a full-body mess.

She mouths your name again and again, lips dragging over your jaw, your neck, your ear. You feel her spit wet on your collarbone. You feel her cock throb inside you again, a second orgasm building under her breath.

“Lara, I’m gonna—” you choke.

You can feel it building. Her body is a live wire—cock swelling, muscles tightening, everything slick and hot and shaking. Her thrusts get shorter, deeper, more erratic. You finger her faster, grinding your hips up into her at the same time, giving her everything.

And then she breaks.

Lara sobs out a moan as her cock explodes inside you again, spilling a second messy, hot load into your pussy, her hole clenching tight around your fingers as her entire body convulses.

Your back arches as you shatter.

Your pussy clenches violently around her, milking her through it, forcing more cum out of her twitching cock, both of you gasping into each other’s mouths, kissing messily, biting, panting, crying out into the sweat-soaked dark.

She doesn’t stop thrusting. Even as she cums. Even as she cries out. Even as her cock throbs inside your already-stretched, cum-filled cunt.

She keeps fucking you through it, through the overstimulation, sweat dripping off her face, hips grinding, trembling, body convulsing as you hold her, buried inside and out.

She’s panting into your ear now, voice thin and wrecked.

“I’m yours. All fucking yours.”

The room is heavy with heat.

The air smells like sweat, sex, and everything you poured into each other.

You’re still wrapped around her, limbs tangled, bodies fused by slick and cum and whatever’s left of your breath.

Lara finally stops moving.

Not because she’s spent—no, her cock is still deep inside you, warm, thick, twitching—but because she knows you need it. She rests her weight on you completely, her head tucked under your chin, hair damp and wild against your neck. Her breath fans across your collarbone, hot and uneven.

“I didn’t mean to go that hard,” she murmurs, voice small and shaky.

You smile into her hair, fingers gently combing through it. “You always say that.”

She lets out a soft, breathy laugh, but it fades quickly.

Her lips move against your skin again. Kisses. Gentle, open-mouthed. Soft at first. But with every kiss, she lingers longer. Mouth pressed to your chest. Then your jaw. Then the side of your throat. Each one slower, wetter, needier.

She’s trying to be good. Gentle.

But her cock twitches again inside you, and she gasps, half surprise, half frustration.

“God, I’m still hard,” she whispers. She sounds almost embarrassed. “You really do something to me.”

You hum in response, rubbing her back. You can feel her sweat cooling on her skin, her thighs still trembling against yours.

She pulls back slightly to look at you. Her face is flushed, her hair a mess. But her eyes? They’re dark. Still hungry. Even as she holds you like you’re fragile, that look never softens.

It’s not gone. Her need.

“Every time I kiss you,” she says quietly, “it gets worse.”

You tilt your head, teasing. “Then stop kissing me.”

Her eyes narrow. She leans in and kisses you again—slow, tender, but deep. Tongue sliding against yours. It’s supposed to be sweet, but the moment your mouths connect, the heat flares right back up between you. You feel her cock throb inside you again.

She breaks the kiss with a shaky exhale.

“…See?” she says, her voice barely there. “I can’t. I literally can’t stop.”

You run your fingers down her back. “You don’t have to. Just… stay here.”

Lara nods, pressing her forehead to yours.

“I will,” she whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She stays buried inside you, even as her hips settle. Even as her hands stroke gently over your skin. She kisses your shoulder, your chest, your cheek. Not asking for more. Just… burning.

Because that’s what she is. Even in aftercare, Lara doesn’t cool down.

She just simmers.

Lara shifts her hips now and then—slow, subtle, like her body refuses to disconnect. Each movement pushes the mess deeper, making you shiver under her.

You stroke her back with one hand, the other gently resting against her waist. Her skin is hot to the touch. Still flushed. Still glistening.

“I should move,” she murmurs, not moving at all.

You hum in response, fingers curling lightly into her side. “But you won’t.”

“No,” she admits softly. “I don’t want to.”

You lie there for a few more seconds. Her breathing evens out, her heart still hammering against your chest.

Then she speaks again quietly, like the words might come apart if she says them too loud.

“I hate that we have to pretend.”

You blink slowly, surprised by her honesty. Her voice is fragile now, stripped of her usual edge. She’s no longer the dominant bottom trying to wreck you. She’s just Lara, your sweet member, brown skin flushed, her body trembling against yours.

“I hate walking past you like none of this happened,” she says. “Like I don’t think about you constantly.”

You feel her cock twitch again inside you, just a little.

“I know we’re in the group. I know we’re supposed to be professional. But I can’t even stand next to you without remembering what you sound like when you cum.”

She lifts her head, eyes glassy but sharp. Her lips hover near yours.

“You’re older. You know better,” she says, a faint smile tugging at her mouth. “But you keep letting me fuck you.”

You raise your eyebrows, voice soft. “You think I let you?”

That earns a low, breathless laugh from her. She kisses you once, sweet and slow, but her hips grind into you again, like her body needs to match the weight of her confession.

“I want more than this,” she says, almost a whisper. “Not just the fucking. Not just sneaking into each other’s rooms after rehearsals.”

Her voice catches in her throat. Her cock pulses gently inside you.

“I want to take you out. Kiss your hand in public. Wake up next to you and not have to leave before anyone sees.”

Her forehead presses to yours, eyes closed now.

“And every time I say I won’t do this again… I end up buried inside you anyway. Because I can’t stay away.”

You don’t say anything at first. Your hands tighten around her, and her breath hitches again, like she’s afraid you’ll pull away.

But you don’t. Instead, you lean in and kiss her temple.

“I think about you all the time,” you whisper. “Even when I shouldn’t.”

Her throat bobs as she swallows, “I really don’t want to be your secret,” she says, “Not anymore.”

Then, quietly, with a tremble in her voice—

“But I’ll stay one, if it means I still get to have you.”

Her hips grind once more, slow and sticky. Not for climax. Just to feel close. To stay inside. To stay connected. Her cock throbs lazily, still half-hard, surrounded by the cum she filled you with. She moans softly into your neck, not even trying to hide how turned on she still is.

And even in this moment—raw, vulnerable, honest—you both know…

This isn’t the last time.

#katseye imagines #katseye x reader #katseye #katseye x female reader #katseye x fem!reader #katseye x fem reader #katseye smut #lara raj x female reader #katseye lara #lara raj x fem reader #g!p lara raj #lara raj smut #lara raj #lara raj x reader

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lolsmiley · 2 months ago

Text

currently sobbing 😭

I LOVE YOU 3000

─── s. walking down the aisle to sophia.

genre. established relationship fluff MARRIAGE!!! starring. sophia laforteza x f!reader

notes. i did this in one sitting btw.. not proofread! i scrapped the og plot for this bcuz i could

in queue – i love you 3000 by stephanie poetri

INHALE. EXHALE.

sophia does it over and over again as she waits for the music to cue. her palms feel awfully sweaty, and her eyes already stung. megan, who was standing by her side, started snickering like usual.

“you’re acting like you might drop dead when you see her,” she teased, nudging sophia playfully. the older girl rolled her eyes but cracked a smile.

“i might as well,” sophia responded. megan returned to her spot as the music started while sophia unconsciously straightened her back. the door has yet to open, though, and so she takes this moment to calm her nerves.

while wiping her hands on her pants, she closes her eyes as she imagines what the rest of her life would look like with you. she hears the doors opening and took in one last deep breath before her taking a small peek.

the small peek doesn’t stay as her eyes fully widened like it would bulge out of her sockets.

you looked so, so beautiful in that white dress she heard your friends giggle over all the time leading up to the wedding. even with a veil over your face, your beauty still struck her heart deep.

you’re holding a bouquet of flowers, the same white roses she gave you when she was courting you, as you slowly make your way down the aisle, your head turning side to side as you greet friends and relatives.

sophia feels her chest tighten, and she fights the urge to clutch it. her vision blurred the longer she stared at you. “ah, crap…” she cursed as she tilted her head back slightly to hold back the tears.

your breathtaking smile was all she saw even when she looked up at the ceiling. her hand came up to wipe her tears as she sniffled, a soft, breathy sob escaping her lips.

when you finally reach her, you held one of her hands to make her look at you. “you’re crying,” you whispered with a smile that made her throat tighten.

“i am,” she whispered back. your hand left hers, and she immediately missed the warmth. it didn’t last long as your hand rested on her cheek, your thumb wiping away her tears.

“it’s okay.” and sophia knows that. she’d cry enough tears to fill a river, then overflow it to turn it into an ocean if it meant she get you call you her wife forever.

the officiant cleared his voice quietly then said his speech. throughout the entire thing, sophia never took her eyes off of you. she stared at you with such devotion that it hurt.

“sophia, do you take y/n to be your wife?” the officiant finally asked. “do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect her, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?”

“i do.” sophia nodded.

the officiant turned to you. “and y/n, do you take sophia to be your wife? do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect her, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?”

you smiled and nod. “i do.”

what happens next came in a blur to the point sophia felt like she was high on cloud nine. and before she knew it, it was time to seal the declaration with a kiss.

sophia holds onto you waist tightly, scared that you’d disappear if she ever let go. her lips found yours with ease just like the plenty other times you’ve kissed, this one no different.

the warmth of your lips was all she could feel. she couldn’t feel the dried up tears around her eyes, and she couldn’t feel the way her heart was about to burst out of her chest.

as you said your vows, sophia felt way too emotional. she never liked crying in front of people, but here she is, crying because of the words her wife is saying.

when it was her turn, she squeezed your hand gently for support before grabbing the microphone.

“y/n,” she started. “i’m standing here now knowing that no words could ever describe how much i love you. from dusk to dawn, you are the only person i ever want to wake up and come home to.”

you let out a teary laugh and sophia only looked at you like you hung the stars in the universe. she takes a moment before speaking again.

“not just when life is beautiful and everything is right, but even when it’s difficult, even when we’re tired, and even when the day is just too long. you’re my anchor, someone who keeps me calm when things aren’t okay.

i love you in a way that’s quiet and loud at the same time. it’s in the way i look for you in a crowded place, and it’s in the way breathing is a little easier when i’m next to you.”

she hesitated briefly then put the vows away, deciding that she’ll say it from memorization. she practiced it so much she can say it perfectly in her sleep.

“i can’t promise that our marriage will be the standard perfection,” she recited, her voice more tender and sentimental. “we’ll argue, we’ll upset one another, and we’ll go days without talking. i promise to stay and be there for you at the end of the day if it means you and i make up. because that’s my perfection.

i promise to love you when it’s easy and when it takes effort. so here’s my vow: my heart is forever yours to love, and i’ll give it to you over and over again, in this life, and the next, and so forth,” she vowed.

you let out a shaky breath as tears started falling more and more. you had to turn away just so you could process everything she said. sophia laughs and pulled you closer by the hand. she turns to look at her friends to see them crying as well.

only then did she realized she had been crying all this time too. “my gosh,” she muttered under her breath as she wiped her eyes clean. it stung and burned in the best way possible.

right now, seeing you sniffling and smiling through tears just made her fall even deeper into the hole she called love.

“you’re really something, laforteza,” you joked. she smiled and took your hand again, fully this time.

“you too,

laforteza.”

#sophia laforteza x female reader #sophia laforteza #sophia laforteza x reader #katseye sophia #katseye #katseye x reader #katseye x fem reader #katseye fic #sophia x reader #wlw

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lolsmiley · 2 months ago

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first touch — lara raj. ⭑.ᐟ

sypnosis ᯓ★ your first “girl on girl” experience with your girlfriend, lara.

pairing ᯓ★ non idol!lara raj x fem!reader

content warnings ᯓ★ oral (r receiving), reader is a “church girl”. hints of homophobia mentioned.

note ᯓ★ lara really is a gentle lover as i said once before :’( i hope you all like this. mahal kita !! <3

the cool air from the ceiling fan made you shiver slightly as your girlfriend closed the bedroom door behind her.

the nerves in your stomach only heightened, considering you were only in your bra and panties, and you had no idea what the redhead was up to tonight.

lara softly chuckles looking at you, “well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“why did you want me like this, again?” you ask confused as lara ran a hand through her red dyed locks before walking to you.

“because, princess, you said you were curious about what sex felt like.” she simply answers before kneeling down in front of you, her knees kissing the carpet, her hands resting on your exposed thighs.

your cheeks flush a light pink.

“well, yes, but i didn’t realize you had to be so exposed for it.” you answer, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

but seeing lara with her upper half exposed in her bra, the lower half with sweatpants made you feel a bit better about being half naked.

your secret lover chuckles slightly as her hands gently rubbed the soft skin of your thighs, “well, it’s preferred.” she explains.

“but we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, baby. i don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” lara continues.

lara knew that you came from a quite sheltered life, religious parents who want you to “save yourself” for marriage, and who believed that you should be saving yourself for a man.

all of this was so new to you, experiencing a relationship with a girl felt so different, yet so right for you. quite honestly, you’d never thought you’d end up with lara. you two are quite the opposites.

but opposites can attract, right?

“i know, but i want to.” you reply with a soft nod which makes lara smile softly.

“good,” she starts, “this is all at your pace, alright? i want you to tell me if you want me to continue or stop. just say the word and i will.” she explains, not wanting to push the boundaries of your consent.

“okay.” you say.

lara slowly leans in softly kissing your lips. you reciprocate.

the passionate kiss sent butterflies through your chest and stomach, as always. the way she kissed you made all your worries go away as you melted into her.

when you first started sneaking out to see her, the anxiety gnawed at your stomach at the possibilities of being caught by your parents, or by anyone else who knew you from school or church.

but right now, you didn’t mind it when lara made you feel so safe.

lara’s hands traveled from your thighs to your stomach where her hands softly traced, before they land on your waist.

the heat emitting off you both was evident, your hands slightly shaking as you didn’t know where to place them as they were gripping your girlfriend’s bedsheets.

lara pulls away only an inch, her nose brushing against yours.

“you can touch me,” she whispers in reassurance, gently bringing your hands onto her shoulders, before hers landed back onto your thighs.

you nodded wordlessly before kissing her again.

it wasn’t long before it got heated, and lara wanted to make you feel as good as possible.

her lips detached from yours, before she kisses your cheek, down to your jaw, then your neck.

she knew better than to bite a hickey, though her urges were very upfront, but she didn’t want you to possibly get in trouble with your parents.

lara left hot and wet opened mouthed kisses along your skin, causing you to let out shaky breaths. her hands gripped your thighs as if to ground her from getting too carried away.

she gently laid you back on her mattress, leaving light kisses over your chest. your fingers tangled in her red locks. you felt so needy in this moment.

your girlfriend eventually pulled away, looking up at you.

“you okay?” she asks with a husky voice, her eyes filled with lust, but also concern.

you nod watching as her hands reach your panties, “can i take these off?” she asks.

you simply nodded again, but she shakes her head, “words, sweet girl.” lara reminds you.

“y-yeah, you can.” you answer once more.

your girlfriend gently pulls your panties down, you lift up your hips to help her. once they’re off you, she kisses you once more, and you shiver at how exposed you are in front of her.

“remember, you just tell me and i’ll stop if you want.” she says.

“okay.”

lara pulls away, her hands landing on your knees and gently pulling them apart, before seeing your exposed wet and glistening core.

out of all her experience, she definitely believes that nothing tops this moment.

you watch as she puts your legs over her shoulders, and your eyes go wide at the sight.

it definitely was a turn on.

but feeling shy, you lean your head back preparing for whatever would happen. feeling lara’s lips on your inner thighs tickled, which made you squirm.

she chuckled a little before her tongue darted out, licking your clit.

you gasped before feeling it again, letting out a soft and quiet moan. lara’s tongue continued her antics as it swirled around your sensitive bud before wrapping her lips around it, sucking softly.

you couldn’t help but whine, your chest heaving up and down. it was a sensation that was overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

all the while, lara was addicted to your taste. she couldn’t pull away no matter how hard she tried, and she didn’t. her tongue was all over you, from your clit to your soaking folds where the tip of her tongue dipped into your slit, causing a louder moan coming from your lips. your hands gripped lara’s bedsheets as your head lolled from side to side, your entire body filled with pleasure and ecstasy.

lara’s tongue was now fully inside of your aching hole, while she brought 2 fingers to your clit, rubbing it hastily.

your back arched as you moan lara’s name, unintentionally cuming so fast, even lara wasn’t prepared for it, but she wasn’t complaining as she moaned into your core, licking up your juices.

she helped you ride the wave of your orgasm, pulling away once you calmed down.

you pant as you finally look at lara, her mouth and chin glistening with your juices from your orgasm, and she smiled smugly.

“you taste … so good, baby you don’t even know.” she says breathlessly as she comes up and cups one side of your face, her thumb rubbing gently.

“are you okay?” she asks and you nod, “yeah. that felt really good.”

your girlfriend smiles, “good. i wanted you to have a good first experience.” she says.

she gently pulls you up into her arms, rubbing your back while your head laid on her chest. you close your eyes sleepily before hearing,

“best pussy ever, i swear.” lara says.

“lara!” you whine.

#katseye x female reader #katseye #katseye x reader #lara raj #lara raj katseye #katseye smut #lara raj smut #lara raj x reader #lara x reader

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lolsmiley · 2 months ago

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·✮♱ ༻I'ma Need my Shirt Back*ੈ✩‧₊˚

- based off of this ask!!! and i made it a little angsty??? yay :>

Content: Smut, Slight Angst, implied baby trapping, break-up sex 💔, fuckboy!Sophia, g!p!Sophia, cream pie, Strong Language

"what the fuck are you doing back here?"

you're baffled by the sight of your girlfriend sophia at your door. she had a gray sweater and basketball shorts on paired with that stupid chain she bought at a cheap jewelry store that you've always wanted her to get rid of. based on her outfit, she clearly wasn't there to apologize to you.

"i just came by to get my stuff, babe—"

"no, you don't get to call me that after you've called all your others bitches that."

she chuckles before letting herself in, and for some reason, you don't stop her from entering. she drags her feet to your guys' previously shared room and you follow right behind. you watch as she goes into the bottom drawer, pulling out whatever crappy thrifted clothings she left behind. she carefully folds them on the bed before glancing at you and smirking.

"uhm... i hate to be that guy but you're wearing my shirt." you look at her confused before looking down. it was a baggy affliction tee that she bought towards the start of you guys' relationship. you had worn it many times, more than she has if you were being honest. it was practically yours but, because you didn't want any reminiscence of her in your house (and because you knew she would be stubborn about it) you quickly take it off before tossing it to her, leaving the top part of your figure bare besides the sports bra you had on. she looks you up and down before smirking and giving the shirt a sniff.

"it still smells like you. i missed your scent" you wish you could say that the comment made your stomach churn but it was quite the opposite. there was a flutter somewhere in your gut, something telling you that you missed her scent as well.

she finishes folding her clothes and picks them up with one hand, looking like she's about to head out. before she makes it to the door, she steps in front of you and gives you a sad smile.

"baby, i really am sorry. i promise i can make it up to you."

you scoff "apologies don't undo what you did. i loved you—trusted you, and you hurt me. you broke my trust and i can't just immediately forget that"

sophia sighs and presses her lips in a thin line. she takes her free hand and cups your cheek with it. you feel her minty breath against your own, already knowing what's coming next.

"i promise, baby, i can." she says above a whisper before leaning in to steal a kiss from you. and to both of your surprises, you kissed back. not in a "omg yes i love you, let's get back together" way, but rather a "shut up and take it before you leave" way.

you hear her clothing drop against the hardwood floor, and her hand that was holding them now goes to hold your waist, pulling you in closer. she tugs one your red pajama pants, pulling you closer. you immediately feel her hard on against your thigh, and your sudden atteaction turns to anger.

"you asshole..." you murmured against her lips. all she does is smirk, proving your point. she pulls back to look at you and she runs her hands against your sides.

"c'mon, you know you still want me. cause if you didn't you would've pushed me away by now." you hated the way her voiced dripped with the truth. you hated her, but it was undeniably that you still wanted her, the wet patch on your underwear proving that true. without another word, she kisses you once again while picking you up. your hands on her shoulders and your legs wrap around her waist for support. she takes you to your bed and lays you down with a thump. your legs stay wrapped around her waist as she stands straight, discarding her sweater and tossing it across the room, leaving her in a black tank top and that stupid chain necklace.

"i know you feel how hard i am, and i feel how much you want me. look you're dripping through your pjs, how fucking pathetic." she says, palming your clothed arousal. you groan and nudge her off of you as you take both of your bottoms off.

"just shut up and fuck me before i kick you out." you spat at her. she chuckles and takes her shorts and boxers off, letting gravity drop them to the ground. her cock springing up, hitting against her stomach. she leaned in to kiss you again and you can feel her flushed hips grind up against yours. your moans and whimpers make her ego inflate and she lines herself up with your entrance. without any warning she bottoms inside you instantly, you both moan at the feeling of her hitting right against your cervix. she pulls out halfway before thrusting hard back inside. you throw your head back exposing your neck and she kisses it down to your collarbone. the smell of sex and anger fill the room and your voice grows hoarse fast over your low screams of pleasure and pain. your hands claw at her back as she goes impossibly faster, definitely leaving marks later on.

"fuck, missed this pussy.. it belongs to me, yknow—ahh. no one can make you feel this good—"

"shut the fuck up and—mmph! k-keep fucking me." at your words, she grows impossibly stubborn, slowing her hips and stilling inside of you. you groan, grinding up trying to create friction between you.

"y'know, maybe i should fuck you till you carry my babies. maybe then you'll let me stay." at that your eyes go wide, trying to comprehend what she just said.

"you're an ass... always thinking with your dick, huh?"

she chuckles on top of you," yeah but..." she pulls back out till just her tip is inside you before thrusting all the way back in, making you jaw slack as your let out a silent scream.

"you love this dick." she plants her hands against the sides of your head as she continues to thrust inside you. her stupid chain dangling above and you can hear it move with ever thrust. it lightly hits the bottom of your chin and you grow annoyed by it. you attempt to take it off her, reaching your hands behind her neck to unclasp it, but she grabs them before you can do anything and pins them against your head.

"nah, babe, it's gonna stay on. i know how much you love it." she says in a soft voice. her hips begin to stutter at the same time you feel yourself clench around her member.

"gonna cum, baby... fuck cum with me please." her desperate whimpers make you laugh for a second, not before letting out a huge moan as she continues hitting inside you deliciously. with a kiss to your cheek, your hips connect together as you both reach your climaxes, feeling sorry for your neighbors who could probably hear throught the thin walls of your apartment. you both gasp for air as she slowly pulls out. she glances at your pussy, clenching onto nothing as your mixed orgasms leak out of you and drip onto the bedsheet. before either of you can say anything, sophia's phone buzzes from her shorts' pocket. she leans down to check what it was and it's a text from daniela.

mi amor

where are you? i got a surprise waiting ;)

she looks at the notification before looking at you, who's already beginning to sit up with a knowing face.

"just go, i never wanna see you again, okay?"

sophia opens her mouth to speak, a rush of guilt flooding her entire body. but she doesn't say anything. instead, she puts her shorts and boxers back on, not even bothering to clean herself up. she picks up her clothes that she dropped on the ground, and left without another word.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

not proof read. yay angst!!!

#katseye #katseye imagines #katseye smut #katseye thoughts #sophia laforteza #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia laforteza x female reader #katseye x reader #wlw #nsfw

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lolsmiley · 3 months ago

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mechanic!manon fic where she keeps flirting with yn using really corny car jokes and flexing her abs and muscles not-so-nonchalantly while working on yn’s car 😭

full throttle flirting— manon bannerman

genre: FLUFFF

synopsis: y/n’s car keeps breaking down, but maybe it’s just an excuse to see manon — whose jokes and smiles make the garage feel like home

—

the first time y/n walks into the garage, it’s because her car makes a noise that can only be described as “grinding” she’s expecting an old guy in oil-stained overalls and a weird beard. what she gets instead is abs.

and muscle. and a mechanic with a golden tan, calloused hands, and a tank top so ripped it’s honestly rude. manon stands up from behind a lifted camaro like she’s in a commercial, dragging a rag across her jawline and grinning like she knows exactly what she looks like.

“let me guess,” she says, eyes flicking over y/n. “engine trouble?”

y/n, brain short-circuiting: “uh yeah.”

“don’t worry, babe,” manon smirks, “i’ll treat her right. i’m good with my hands.”

⸻

visit #1 — the diagnosis

y/n sits on a crate and tries not to pass out while manon pokes around under her hood. every five seconds, manon drops a pun like a wrench. some are so bad y/n has to clutch her water bottle like a lifeline.

“your spark plugs are loose,” she says. “just like my morals when someone cute walks in.”

“you’re so unserious.”

“no, really. my heart’s revving up just looking at you.”

“that doesn’t even make sense.”

“neither does how good you look in this lighting.”

by the time the repair’s done, y/n’s not sure what’s overheating more — her engine or her brain.

“how much do i owe you?” she asks weakly.

“first visit’s free,” manon says, leaning back and shamelessly stretching her arms. her abs catch the sun like a greek statue. “unless you wanna pay me in digits.”

“digits?”

“you know. phone number. blood type. whatever works with you.”

⸻

visit #2 — maybe she sabotaged herself?

ten days later, y/n’s back. totally normal. not at all because she might have accidentally unplugged something under her hood googling “easy car problems that look real.”

“well, well, well,” manon grins, stepping out of the garage like she’s emerging from a thirst trap. “look who’s back to jump-start my heart.”

“i think something’s… clunking?”

“probably me falling for you.”

y/n might melt. this time, manon makes her hold the flashlight. y/n’s hand shakes slightly. when manon reaches up and adjusts it, she doesn’t let go of y/n’s wrist for a beat too long.

“better grip,” she says, like her fingers aren’t still curled around y/n’s.

“you could literally just say you like holding my hand.”

manon smirks. “busted.”

⸻

visit #3 — it rains. obviously.

her car stalls mid-turn. again. conveniently two blocks from the garage. she pushes it there in the rain.

manon answers the door wearing a sleeveless hoodie and boxers. y/n wants to cry. or pass out. or marry her on the spot.

“damn,” manon says, stepping aside. “you really know how to make an entrance.”

“my life is falling apart.”

“well, good news. i fix things for a living.”

manon hands her a towel, pulls her inside the garage, and grabs her a hoodie that hangs down to her knees.

they sit on the workbench while thunder rolls. manon leans back, wet hair sticking to her jaw, fingers absently playing with a socket wrench. “you know,” she says, voice soft, “my mom taught me everything in this shop.”

y/n looks up. “yeah?”

“used to build go-karts in the back with her.” manon shrugs, quieter now. “she said if something’s broken, fix it. if someone’s hurting, be kind. if a girl’s really cute and keeps showing up with car problems… shoot your shot.”

y/n’s heart stutters.

“was that part of the lesson plan?”

“might’ve improvised that one.”

⸻

visit #5 — grease and golden hour

the fix is minor. manon finishes early. it’s sunset. the garage is golden and soft and warm and smells like pine and oil and maybe something sweeter now — something like hope.

manon wipes a smudge of grease off y/n’s cheek with her thumb. slow. careful. thumb lingers a little too long.

“you’ve got something right…”

“is it charm?”

“i was gonna say ‘unprocessed trauma,’ but sure.”

they laugh. manon’s eyes soften. she leans in, bracing one hand beside y/n’s hip on the car hood.

“i gotta ask,” she murmurs. “are you really this unlucky with your car? or just incredibly bad at pretending not to flirt back?”

y/n breathes, “maybe i’m just into mechanics with god-tier biceps.”

“well,” manon says, eyes flicking to her mouth. “good thing i do full service.”

and then she kisses her

—

a/n: whoever requested this ILYSM.

#manon bannerman x reader #manon x reader #manon bannerman #meret manon #katseye imagines #katseye x reader

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lolsmiley · 3 months ago

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This changed my life, and idk if it was for the better 😭

deja vu | manon x reader

⁍ song: myth - beach house ⁍ requested: yes-- thank you anon! ⁍ genre: AU! angsty, bittersweet ending. grief and acceptance in different fonts. ⁍ a/n: i hope this is what you were looking for, anon. sorry for delay in getting this out! ⁍ wc: 9.9k ⁍ warnings: heavy depictions of grief and death. mentions of mental illness, sickness, surgery, medication, etc. please read with discretion. ⁍ synopsis:

y/n, for as long as she can remember, has always dreaded falling asleep. her dreams are plagued by memories of a girl. each and every time, she lives a life with her. each and every time, it ends in heartbreak.

the idea of soulmates isn't wrapped in myth or fantasy. there's no magic thread tying fates together, no divine hand deciding who belongs to whom. but still, it feels real in its own quiet, mysterious way. people speak of it in hushed tones, describing sudden connections that strike like lightning. strangers lock eyes and feel as if they've known each other for centuries. some are shaken by deja vu so intense it leaves them breathless. others dream the same dreams on the same nights, caught in a strange, shared familiarity. science has no name for it. the world just accepts that sometimes, two souls find each other and remember.

for y/n, remembering isn't tender. it's not some miracle to chase or cherish. it's a cycle of sorrow that follows her into sleep, again and again. she dreams in sharp, vivid color, trapped in lives she can’t recall by day but can’t escape by night. and always, at the center of it all, there’s the same woman. a fierce, beautiful stranger who feels more like a missing limb than a memory. y/n meets her over and over, in different centuries, different bodies, different lives. they find each other and lose each other, always torn apart by something cruel and unseen. like their story was carved in stone long before they ever lived it.

the dreams aren't fragments or fading whispers. they're entire worlds. she lives them fully, loves fiercely, and dies a little each time she wakes. in one life, the woman bleeds out in her arms on a battlefield turned to ash. in another, she disappears into a storm that swallows the sea. always, it's loss. always, it's heartbreak.

the weight of it bleeds into her waking life. she carries grief in her bones, hollow in places she can't explain. she's learned to build her life around absence. to keep her distance. to avoid anything that might stir that old, aching recognition. people think she's cold, guarded, maybe afraid of love. they don't understand that she's loved a hundred times and lost a hundred more, all in the span of sleep.

she doesn’t walk alone. she walks with the echoes of a hundred endings. haunted not by a ghost, but by a soul she keeps finding and losing. and deep down, more than anything, she's terrified it’ll happen again.

the psychiatrists office sits on the top floor of an old building downtown, the kind with creaking stairs and an elevator that groans like it’s doing you a favor. it’s not the kind of place that promises peace or healing. the walls are painted in muted shades that aimed for calming but landed closer to worn out. a soft, sagging armchair waits under a crooked floor lamp that hums faintly when it’s on. there are no framed quotes about growth or resilience, no carefully placed succulents in trendy pots. just shelves crowded with books that have been read too many times and the faint, lingering smell of mint tea mixed with dust.

y/n sits cross legged on the couch, her shoulders tight, fingers tangled in her lap. her posture is practiced stillness, but tension hums beneath it. outside the window, the city murmurs. traffic lights blink in steady rhythm, a car horn groans in the distance, tires hiss over wet pavement. the world moves on, indifferent.

inside, the room is quiet. the air conditioner hums softly, and every now and then, there’s the sound of a pen scratching across paper. taeyeon sits across from her, steady and composed, taking notes with a kind of quiet precision that makes y/n feel exposed.

taeyeon is a psychiatrist. her presence is gentle, but clinical. her voice is low and even, each word measured, careful not to press too hard. she never rushes, never interrupts. she has the kind of calm that makes y/n ache with something sharp and shapeless, part envy, part resentment. taeyeon was calm in a way that y/n could only dream of.

“how many nights this week?” taeyeon asked, clicking her pen once before jotting something down.

“five,” y/n said, her voice barely more than a breath. “same woman. different place.”

taeyeon nodded slowly. “can you tell me about the most recent one?”

y/n exhaled through her nose, like the memory hurt to touch. “a desert. sand everywhere. in the air, in my mouth, in my lungs. we were running. hiding. i don’t know from what. she had a scar along her jaw and a cloth wrapped around her wrist, like she was bleeding. but she smiled at me like everything was fine.”

“and did you recognize her again?” taeyeon’s voice was calm, careful. not dismissive, not probing too hard. she had learned how to ask without denying. not with y/n.

“always,” y/n whispered. “it’s always her. different bodies, different voices, but the same eyes. i just know.”

taeyeon tapped the tip of her pen against the paper, thoughtful. “how did it end?”

“same as always,” y/n said. “i lost her. the world started falling apart or she just vanished. sometimes she dies. sometimes i do. and then i wake up crying, and i can’t breathe, and it takes a while before i remember where i am. before i feel real again.”

there was a pause. taeyeon leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees.

“we’ve talked about dissociation,” she said gently. “how powerful dreams like this can sometimes be the mind’s way of processing trauma. especially when they’re this vivid, this consistent. it can feel like you’re living two lives. like your brain is carrying something too heavy to face all at once, so it breaks it into pieces you only see when you’re sleeping.”

y/n couldn’t help the quiet scoff that slipped out. dissociation. of course.

they always said the same things. dissociative episodes. unresolved trauma. recurrent nightmares. some leaned toward ptsd, others floated terms like delusional attachment or maladaptive daydreaming. one suggested a rare sleep disorder. they circled her like they were mapping a storm they couldn’t predict, naming symptoms like they were anchors, like labels could keep her from drifting too far.

but none of it touched the truth of it. none of it explained how it felt like her soul kept getting dragged through time, tethered to a stranger who never stayed.

y/n nodded regardless, but her expression was distant. “but what if it’s not just trauma? what if it is real? what if i’m not broken? what if my soul just… remembers?”

taeyeon didn’t answer right away. instead, she let the question hover between them like smoke.

“i believe your pain is real,” she said carefully. “your grief, your connection, your fear of losing her. all of it. i’m not here to tell you what’s real and what isn’t. i’m here to help you stay anchored, no matter what the answer turns out to be.”

y/n laughed, but there was no humor in it. “anchored. i feel like i’m drowning in someone else’s life. like i’ve already lived and died a thousand times, and i don’t have any of the good parts to show for it. just the endings.”

taeyeon softened. “that sounds exhausting.”

“it is.” y/n’s voice cracked. “and the worst part? i feel like i’m grieving someone i’ve never even met. and no one gets it. no one sees it as real grief. not even me, most of the time. it just… hurts.”

taeyeon nodded slowly. “grief doesn’t need permission. it doesn’t need logic. your mind, your body, your heart—they’re all carrying something. whether it’s memory or metaphor, it deserves to be processed.”

“but what if i never stop dreaming of her?” y/n whispered. “what if i’m meant to keep losing her forever?”

“then we figure out how to live in between the dreams,” taeyeon said. “how to find meaning in the spaces where you’re awake. how to hold on to yourself. you’re not here to solve every life you’ve lived. you’re here to live this one.”

the silence that followed wasn’t heavy. it was necessary. y/n stared out the window, watching the sky shift from steel to amber. somewhere below, a siren wailed. the city moved on, uncaring. but in this room, in this breath, she felt just the smallest flicker of stillness.

taeyeon didn’t speak again right away, and y/n was grateful for it. sometimes silence was the most honest part of these sessions. not everything needed a tidy response, a plan, a labeled diagnosis. sometimes it was just about making it to the next breath without sinking.

“do you think i’m delusional?” y/n asked at last, her eyes fixed on the window. her voice was flat, but her fingers tightened around the edge of her sleeve.

“no,” taeyeon said, calm and certain. “i think your mind is telling a story your body hasn’t finished understanding. maybe it’s rooted in trauma. maybe it’s memory. maybe it’s something we don’t have language for yet. but that doesn’t make it delusion.”

y/n turned her head slowly. “but no one else dreams like this. no one else wakes up with bruises shaped like hands they’ve never touched. or with songs on their lips they’ve never heard before. i speak languages i’ve never learned. i wake up missing her like she just walked out of the room.”

taeyeon wrote something down, but her eyes never left y/n. “have you ever told anyone that part?”

“no.” she paused, her voice low. “i stopped trying. people look at me like i’m breakable. or lying. or worse... like i’m something to be afraid of.”

there was a long pause.

“can i ask you something?” taeyeon said.

y/n gave a small nod.

“if it’s real—your dreams, the woman, the loss—what do you think you’re meant to do with it in this life?”

the question landed between them like a stone dropped into water. not heavy, but deep. it sank fast, and y/n felt the ripple of it in her chest, behind her ribs where the grief always settled.

“i don’t know,” she said quietly. “i think… i’m afraid i’ll never find her here. or worse, that i will, and i won’t recognize her until it’s too late.”

taeyeon’s voice stayed soft, steady. “what if it’s not about finding her at all? what if it’s about becoming the version of you who can survive losing her? or maybe… the one who doesn’t lose her at all?”

the thought felt like an open wound and a balm all at once. y/n looked down at her hands, her thumbs rubbing together in slow circles, a nervous ritual she barely noticed anymore.

“that version of me would have to be a lot stronger than this,” she said quietly.

“maybe,” taeyeon replied. “or maybe she’s already here, underneath the grief.”

the clock ticked softly in the corner, marking the end of the session, but neither of them moved. the city outside had shifted again. a wind stirred through the alley below, carrying the distant sound of footsteps and voices and life.

“same time next week?” taeyeon asked eventually, her voice light, as if the conversation hadn’t just opened a door that couldn’t be closed again.

y/n stood slowly, wrapping her coat around her like armor. “yeah,” she said, though she wasn’t sure what next week would bring. maybe another dream. maybe another ending.

the hallway outside taeyeon’s office was dim and narrow, lit by flickering fluorescent lights that buzzed just enough to feel wrong. the carpet was a tired gray, worn thin in spots, and the air smelled faintly of old coffee and overused cleaning spray. y/n took the stairs instead of the elevator, her steps slow and careful. she didn’t like the sound of her own breath in tight spaces, not after sessions like this. everything inside her felt too exposed, like her skin didn’t fit quite right.

by the time she stepped outside, the sky had settled into dusk. cars moved past in quiet waves, headlights blinking on one by one. the breeze carried the damp scent of distant rain and exhaust. she pulled her collar up and slipped the folded prescription into her coat pocket like it was something she didn’t want anyone to see.

quetiapine.

low dose. for sleep, taeyeon had said. for the emotions. for the edges. something to soften the line between the dreams and waking life.

“just something to ground you,” she’d added, voice gentle.

y/n hadn’t argued. but she hadn’t said yes either.

at the corner, she paused beneath a flickering streetlamp. the script crinkled in her pocket like a secret. the words felt heavy. antipsychotic. sedative. off-label.

none of them felt like they belonged to her.

she didn’t feel sick. not in the way they meant. she didn’t feel like her mind was broken. if anything, the dreams were the only things that felt consistent, real, even if they tore her apart. it was the waking world that felt fragmented. like a life half-lived. like her body was here but her soul had its bags half-packed, always waiting for a call back to somewhere else.

she crossed the street without looking, cars slowing around her like she wasn’t really there. the pharmacy on 9th street glowed too brightly, its glass doors sliding open with a sterile hiss. she stood just inside, the cold air conditioning raising goosebumps on her arms, and stared down at the slip of paper in her hand.

her name. her date of birth. the drug. the dosage. instructions in bold print. take one at bedtime. do not operate heavy machinery. may cause drowsiness.

none of it said what she really wanted.

may stop you from dying over and over again in your sleep.may dull the face of the woman who keeps saying “found you.”may silence the only part of your life that feels like truth.

“can i help you?” the pharmacist asked, polite, rehearsed, unaware of the war playing out behind her eyes.

y/n hesitated. then handed the paper over.

when she left twenty minutes later, a small white bag folded shut in her hand, she felt no relief. no sense of control. only a deeper kind of uncertainty.

because she knew what was waiting for her when she closed her eyes.

and she didn’t know what scared her more. seeing the woman again or the possibility that this time, she wouldn’t at all.

she moved on instinct, letting her feet carry her forward while her mind drifted somewhere else entirely. head bowed low, shoulders curled inward like she could shrink out of existence if she tried hard enough. around her, the city pulsed with people who had places to be and lives to live, all of them tethered to their own distractions. she kept walking, each step a blur, vision unfocused as thoughts piled on top of each other in a fog she couldn’t cut through. then, as she turned a corner sharply without thinking, her body moving faster than her awareness could catch up, she slammed shoulder first into someone heading the opposite direction. the sudden jolt snapped her out of her spiral like a slap to the face. she almost dropped her bag.

the impact wasn’t hard, but it knocked her a step back. the other girl stumbled too, letting out a soft, surprised gasp. y/n opened her mouth to apologize, her reflex already halfway formed. sorry, i didn’t see you— the words were on the tip of her tongue. but the moment their eyes met, everything stopped. her words fell to a muted breath. time didn’t slow. it fractured.

she hadn’t meant to look up. it was just a reflex, a flicker of attention at the sudden jolt of impact.

the girl was tall. braids framed her face, a few loose strands curling at her cheekbone like they belonged there. she was pretty in a way that made you look twice without meaning to. golden skin, soft curls pulled back just enough to show the shape of her face, and eyes that held something quiet but certain. everything about her was put together without trying too hard, like beauty had always just come naturally to her.

but her eyes. her eyes were the thing that undid y/n.

they were wide and deep, dark enough to drown in, and so achingly familiar that y/n’s breath caught in her throat. it wasn’t recognition in the normal sense. it was older than that, buried in the marrow. it was the kind of knowing you don’t earn in one lifetime.

those eyes had looked at her through fire. through battlefield smoke. across oceans. in dreams. in death.

she knew them. and for a second, the girl looked like she knew her too.

“are you—” the girl started, voice quiet, edged with a question she hadn’t figured out how to ask.

y/n’s heart slammed against her ribs. and then, she turned. her footsteps had never before in her life felt so heavy as she walked away. it was the only thing she could do. if she didn’t, she’d say her name without ever having heard it. if she stayed, she’d never be able to leave again.

behind her, the girl stood still, watching. not following. not calling out. but something had shifted.

deja vu had never felt more tangible.

manon wouldn’t call herself a hopeless romantic. not exactly. she liked the idea of love, sure, the kind that made your chest ache and your world tilt on its axis. but more than that, she liked the promise of it. the cinematic kind, drenched in golden light and dramatic pauses, the kind where someone looks at you like they already know the ending and still want to live every second of the story anyway.

she wasn’t naive, not really. she knew love wasn’t always soft or beautiful. she just liked to believe it could be.

she watched movies like twilight not because she believed in vampires, but because she believed in the way edward looked at bella like the sun finally had a rival. she cried at the end of 10 things i hate about you. she read books like scripture. she fell in love at least twice a week, usually with strangers on the train or characters in a playlist.

her friends orbited her like moons around some untamable sun. they filled her life with noise and comfort, and manon loved them for it. loved the way they let her be loud and messy.

she danced with her headphones in, full volume, hips swaying as she folded laundry or cooked or waited for her nail polish to dry. sometimes she danced in public, in line at the bodega or waiting for the light.

she was so, unashamedly herself.

so when she turned the corner that evening and bumped into someone—really bumped, hard enough that her shoulder throbbed for a second—she barely blinked. she started to apologize, hand halfway raised in that instinctive, easy way she’d always had. but then the girl looked at her, and manon forgot the rest of the sentence.

there was something in that stare. something raw and terrified, like manon had reached out and touched a memory that didn’t belong to her. her smile faltered. her heart stuttered in a way it never had before, not even during all the silly crushes or movie moments.

the girl’s eyes were wide and wild, and she looked at manon like she might fall apart just from being seen.

“are you—” manon started, unsure what the hell she was even asking.

but the girl was already backing away. already turning. already gone. just like that.

manon stood there for a long time after. cars passed, the light changed, people moved around her. the city didn’t pause. but she did. her chest felt hollow in a way that wasn’t unpleasant, just unfamiliar. like she’d missed something important.

she didn’t know who that girl was, but the skin on her shoulder was still buzzing where they touched. deep in her gut, something whispered to her.

you’ve met before.

somehow, she knew that wasn’t the last time she’d see her.

when manon stepped back into the apartment ten minutes later, the scent of leftover incense and vanilla candles wrapped around her like a hug that didn’t quite reach. megan was the first thing she saw, curled up on the couch with her legs tucked under her, fully absorbed in her nintendo switch. she didn’t even look up. not until sophia passed behind her and plucked the console clean from her hands.

“hey!” megan gasped, reaching for it, but stopped when sophia gave her a sharp look.

“you’ve been on this all damn day. come eat something before you fuse with the couch.”

megan blinked, then lit up like a light switch. “is it the thai place with the crab rangoon?” she was already halfway to the kitchen before anyone answered.

manon followed slowly, takeout bag rustling against her leg. she’d been starving when she left to pick it up, had practically been fantasizing about curry puffs and sticky rice all day since she finished moving furniture into her new room. but now, her appetite sat buried beneath the weight of a face she couldn’t shake. that stare. those eyes.

she dropped the bag on the counter and started unpacking containers, only half listening as megan pulled open drawers for chopsticks and plates.

“you okay?” sophia asked, not looking up as she peeled the lid off the tom yum soup. “you’re quiet. which is creepy.”

manon hesitated. then, after a moment, she sighed. “i ran into someone.”

sophia’s face morphed into something equal parts teasing and inquisitive. “do we mean ran into, or ran into?”

“shut up,” manon said, but her voice was distant, almost dazed. she leaned her hip against the counter. “no, i mean… literally. this girl just came out of nowhere. we bumped into each other, and i looked at her and…”

“and?” megan asked around a mouthful of noodles.

manon exhaled, rubbing her fingers along the edge of the countertop. “and i don’t know. it was weird. like… my whole body stopped. like i knew her. or maybe… used to know her?”

megan raised a brow, but sophia only rolled her eyes.

“great. you’ve been here a week and you’re already writing yourself into a romance novel” she said, grabbing a spring roll. “listen. you just moved. you’re tired. your brain is bored and lonely and doing that thing where it makes random people feel cosmic.”

“i’m not lonely,” manon said quickly.

sophia gave her a look. “you just left your whole life behind. you miss your favorite boba spot. it’s fine. just don’t start chasing strangers in the street.”

“i’m not gonna chase her,” manon muttered, tugging open a container of rice halfheartedly.

“good,” sophia said, dipping a spring roll in sauce. “focus on getting your bearings. we still haven’t shown you the lake. and the bookstore downtown. or that cursed karaoke bar megan keeps trying to get us kicked out of.”

“hey,” megan said, mouth full. “i stand by my avril lavigne medley.”

sophia ignored her. “new town, new start. the last thing you need is a mysterious stranger who makes your stomach do weird things.”

manon didn’t respond right away. her fingers drummed quietly against the countertop. she was trying to believe sophia. it would’ve been easier to just agree, to let the moment fade into one of those random, unexplainable blips you forget after a few days.

but the girl’s eyes were still there when she closed her own, and something in her gut whispered that forgetting wasn’t going to be an option. still, she nodded.

“yeah,” she said. “you’re right. it was nothing.”

she didn’t believe it for one second.

the next day, manon wandered through town with no real destination, letting the late morning sun soak into her skin and ease the tightness in her chest. the streets were still unfamiliar enough to feel like a story she hadn’t read yet, every corner turning into something new. sophia and megan had spent the morning walking her through the local spots and pointing out cafes with the kind of casual pride that only came from living somewhere long enough to love it. even so, they could tell she needed space, and she hadn’t argued when they gently peeled away after brunch. between their constant presence and the easy chatter of their friends—daniela, lara, and yoonchae— the thing manon needed most now was to decompress.

she still took her time, pausing now and then to glance through coffee shop windows or let the scent of warm bread drifting from nearby bakeries pull a faint smile to her lips. her steps were slow, unhurried, more about the wandering than the destination. when she turned the next corner, she found herself standing in front of a narrow storefront tucked between a flower shop overflowing with soft blooms and a stationery store lined with pastel journals in its window. the sign above the door read second story books, the words hand painted in faded cursive that looked like it had weathered more than one season. sophia had scribbled directions onto a torn sheet of notebook paper before brunch, a little map paired with a single warning written beneath it in blocky letters. don’t let the book clerk scare you too much. she’s always in a bad mood.

despite the warning, nothing could’ve prepared manon for the surprise waiting inside. the bell above the door chimed softly as she pushed in.

it smelled like old pages and lavender, the air heavy and still like the inside of a dream. narrow shelves wound through the space in lazy, looping rows, creating little pockets of quiet. sunlight filtered in through high windows, cutting gold lines across the hardwood floor.

and then there she was.

manon froze.

behind the counter, half-shadowed beneath a hanging fern, stood the girl from yesterday. the one who’d looked at her like she was a ghost. the one who had vanished without a word.

it was enough to make manon’s stomach swoop. her heart picked up, irrational and bright.

she grabbed a book off the closest table without looking at the title. anything. she didn’t care. she just needed a reason to speak.

the girl didn’t look up until manon was right in front of the counter.

“hey,” manon said, almost too soft. she cleared her throat and held out the book like a peace offering. “i, um, figured i’d stop by. didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

y/n’s hands stilled on the register. she looked up slowly, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything.

her blood turned to ice the moment manon stepped through the door. it was immediate, visceral, like the air itself had shifted around her. the bookstore, her sanctuary, the one place that had always felt untouched by the chaos of the world, now felt exposed. like someone had cracked it open and let something in that wasn’t meant to be there.

no. no, not again.

she could feel it in her chest, in her fingertips, that creeping sense of inevitability pressing against her like a warning. the weight of something old and painful, something she had buried and begged not to unearth again. this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. not here. not now. not in this life.

“you’re following me?” y/n asked flatly, her voice low and smooth.

manon blinked, caught off guard. “what? no, i just—i didn’t know you worked here. i came in for a book.”

“what book?”

manon glanced down. the cover was upside down. something about sea mythology. she tried not to laugh. “uh… i’ve always liked mermaids?”

y/n didn’t smile. her eyes, so striking yesterday, were unreadable now. cool and distant.

manon tried again. “i’m manon, by the way.”

y/n’s fingers tapped the edge of the counter once, then slid the book across the scanner. the beep sounded far too loud in the quiet.

“okay.”

manon hesitated. “you don’t want to tell me your name?”

“not particularly.” y/n bagged the book and handed it over without looking her in the eye. “it’s twelve seventy-six.”

manon dug out her card, suddenly cold despite the warmth in the room. she looked at y/n, really looked. she tried to find something in her expression that might explain the coldness, the distance. she came up empty.

“did i… do something wrong?” she asked, quieter now.

y/n didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, but her jaw tightened, her eyes fixed somewhere just past manon’s shoulder like looking directly at her might make something break loose. when she finally spoke, her voice was low and measured, almost gentle if not for the edge she forced into it.

“you should go,” she said. “whatever you’re looking for, it’s not here. i don��t have time to entertain strangers who think they belong in places they don’t.”

she didn’t mean it. not really. she just wanted to make her go away. to save herself from the inevitable pain of loss. because what’s there to lose, when you didn’t have it to begin with?

manon stared at her, the silence thick. her face twisted up in confusion. nonetheless, she shakes her head.

“right,” she said finally, voice clipped. “thanks for the book.”

she didn’t look back as she left, the door chime sounding harsher this time.

y/n stood still for a long while, the weight of the moment pressing on her ribs. her hands shook. she didn’t like hurting people—but she had to.

she couldn’t let her in.

not again.

the office was quiet again, that familiar kind of stillness taeyeon always kept like a blanket draped over every session. but today it settled over y/n like a weight instead of a comfort. the air felt too clean, too measured, and it only made the anger in her chest simmer hotter. not loud, not explosive, but persistent, like a slow burn that wouldn’t ease up. for as long as she could remember—since she was fourteen and her parents could no longer ignore the way she woke up gasping and sobbing into her pillow—she had been told that something was wrong with her. maybe not always in words, not in the one word that would ruin her completely, but in every glance, every hushed conversation, every carefully scripted therapy session where people tried to convince her she was just confused. they put her on medications, changed the doses, swapped one diagnosis for another as if her mind was a puzzle they could never quite solve. therapist after psychiatrist after specialist all trying to convince her that what she saw every night wasn’t real. that the girl in her dreams, the lives they lived, the endings that shattered her, were just symptoms of something broken. and now here she was, after all those years, sitting in this overly warm office with the sun pouring through the blinds like nothing had changed.

she was real.

she had walked into y/n’s world like the universe had run out of ways to keep them apart. and all y/n could think was how fucking cruel it was that no one had believed her. how all this time she had been drowning in something no one else could see, only to have it show up in the middle of a bookstore like it hadn’t ruined her already.

y/n sat in the same place she always did, one leg tucked under the other, shoulders curled slightly in like she’d been bracing for a storm that hadn’t passed yet. taeyeon was across from her, notebook open but untouched. her eyes, lined with quiet concern, never strayed.

“you saw her again,” taeyeon said, not asking. just… knowing.

y/n stared at the floor between them. “at the bookstore.”

“how did it feel?”

“like waking up and remembering she died,” she said softly. “again.”

taeyeon’s lips pressed into a thin line. “and what did you do?”

“i made her go away.”

taeyeon tilted her head. “did you want her to go away?”

y/n’s silence answered for her.

“have you been taking your medication?” taeyeon asked gently.

“yes.” a beat. “sometimes.”

taeyeon didn’t scold. she just nodded, thumb tapping lightly against the cover of her notebook. “you told me the dreams stopped being dreams a long time ago. that they feel like memories. full lives. love. loss. over and over. and now—”

“now she’s here,” y/n finished. “not in a dream. not in a memory. she’s here. in this city, walking into the places i go, smiling like i haven’t watched her die a hundred times.”

“and what makes you so certain she’s the same person?”

y/n laughed, but it cracked in the middle. “it’s in her eyes. i could barely breathe when she looked at me. like my body remembered before my mind could catch up.”

taeyeon leaned forward slightly. “let’s say you’re right. let’s say this is fate. a thread between lives, tangled and pulled tight. then maybe the question isn’t whether it was supposed to happen. maybe the question is—who are you to keep it from happening?”

“i’m someone who’s tired of losing her,” y/n said. “every time. every time i get her, the world takes her back. sometimes it’s war. sometimes it’s illness. sometimes it’s something as stupid as a car crash. and every time, i break. i don’t want to do it again.”

taeyeon nodded slowly, her expression unreadable but not unkind, like she was choosing each word with care. “i believe you,” she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. “i believe the grief is real. i believe the loss feels real too. and whether or not these dreams are memories or symbols or something in between, the pain they leave behind isn’t something we can ignore.”

y/n looked down at her hands, fingers loosely clasped in her lap. her throat felt tight, like the wrong word might split her open.

“but what you’re describing,” taeyeon continued, “it doesn’t sound like fear anymore. it sounds like a kind of punishment. you’re bracing for something you think you can’t change. and in doing that, you’re trying to protect yourself, maybe even her, from something that hasn’t happened yet.”

y/n didn’t answer, didn’t move. the silence stretched, but taeyeon didn’t fill it with pity or false comfort. instead, she leaned back slightly, letting her words settle.

“so let’s talk about free will,” she said. “maybe the endings in your dreams were never up to you. maybe they always happened no matter what. but how you meet them… that part is yours. you get to choose how you exist in this moment, in this life. do you want to keep running from something you haven’t fully understood? or are you willing to let yourself stay still long enough to figure out what this really is?”

y/n turned her face toward the tall window, watching a single leaf trace a slow arc down the glass before catching at the bottom. it stayed there, still and weightless, like it hadn’t made the long fall at all.

“what if the pain outweighs the good?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

taeyeon didn’t respond right away. when she finally spoke, it was quiet, like she was offering something fragile.

“what if it doesn’t?”

the question lingered in the air between them, thin and delicate like a thread stretched just short of breaking. after a long moment, taeyeon leaned forward, her tone still soft but edged with something firmer.

“this girl you met. whether she truly is the girl from your dreams or not, maybe it’s time to confront what her presence brings up in you. maybe it’s not about proving anything. maybe it’s about facing the fear that has kept you running in circles.”

y/n didn’t speak. she stared down at her hands where they sat curled in her lap, her nails pressing small crescents into her skin.

“the grief you feel is valid,” taeyeon said. “but so is the joy. so is whatever connection has followed you across years and versions of yourself. maybe it’s love. maybe it’s something quieter. maybe it’s just the feeling of being seen. but if all you do is brace for the ending, you’ll miss everything in between. the mornings you wake up and forget the fear for a moment. the small ways she makes you laugh when you least expect it. the sound of your name in her mouth when she says it like she already knows you and is just waiting for you to know her back.”

y/n’s throat tightened. she blinked hard against the sting rising behind her eyes and clenched her hands a little tighter, like that alone could keep her grounded.

“start small,” taeyeon said. “don’t fall. don’t run. don’t promise anything to the stars. just… say hello.”

it sounded impossibly simple.

and impossibly hard.

y/n hadn’t expected to see her again. after the way she had dismissed her, voice sharp and cold, words chosen with the precision of someone who had spent years learning how to keep others out, she had thought that would be the end of it. clean. final. she had intended it that way. it was safer to draw the line before anything familiar could bloom into something harder to let go of.

but two days later, just after noon, the bell above the door gave its soft chime, and when y/n looked up, manon was standing there again.

outside, rain was falling in that quiet, steady way that softened the edges of everything. her curls were damp at the ends, looser from the moisture, and her jacket clung slightly to her arms, darkened with water. she looked hesitant, but not unsure. in her arms was a paper bag, folded carefully with a receipt tucked under the twine, pressed close to her chest like she needed both hands to hold whatever it was.

y/n’s heart tightened in her chest, an involuntary pull she hated herself for.

she didn’t speak. her fingers stayed frozen above the keyboard as she watched manon approach the counter, slow but steady. without a word, manon set the book between them, her fingers brushing once against the wood before she let go.

“i think this belongs back here,” she said.

there was no smile, no attempt to smooth things over. only the return of something that hadn’t been opened. the book’s spine was still unbroken. untouched. it wasn’t just a return. it was a question. maybe even a challenge. and y/n wasn’t sure yet if she was ready to answer.

y/n’s fingers hovered hesitantly over the register just as she reached for the book, then she froze. despite the weight of her worries, the relentless nightmares, and every shadow of doubt whispering what could go wrong, her mind kept returning to taeyeon’s words, steady and calm. after a moment that stretched quietly between them, she finally lifted her gaze and met the girls’ eyes.

“hello,” y/n said softly.

the word was small. sincere. it tasted unfamiliar in her mouth. but she meant it. she didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or not that she took taeyeon’s advice so literally.

manon blinked like she hadn’t expected it. her expression cracked open, just slightly. not quite a smile, but something warmer. less guarded.

“hi,” she said. then, after a pause, “you remembered me.”

a silence passed, but it was lighter than before. manon’s hands stayed at her sides. she didn’t move to leave.

“can i ask your name now?” she tried again.

y/n hesitated. she thought of taeyeon. of choices. of pain. of joy. of letting herself be a little braver.

“y/n.”

manon said it back like she was trying it on her tongue for the first time. like she was memorizing it.

that was the beginning.

what followed after didn’t unravel in a neat, cinematic montage. but it came close. they started seeing each other in fragments. a shared coffee break on y/n’s lunch. manon dropping by just to “browse” but staying until close. conversations that began at the register and ended on the curb outside as the sky turned lavender.

they learned each other in quiet ways.

manon talked with her hands, her whole body involved when she was excited. she had a habit of singing along under her breath when music played over the bookstore speakers, sometimes even when she didn’t know the words.

y/n was quieter, but not closed. she listened with the kind of attention that made you feel like the only person in the room. she underlined books she read and sometimes shared passages out loud, voice barely above a whisper.

they traded stories. half-truths, memories, confessions. manon talked about her old apartment, her sister, the playlist she made for every mood. y/n talked about dreams, sometimes. the ones that lingered. the ones she couldn’t quite name yet. still, she never told manon about those ones. the ones that ended in death, in pain, and suffering.

there were days they walked the long way through town, hands brushing but never quite holding. they shared desserts at cafés, drank tea on manon’s balcony under cheap string lights, and sat side by side without needing to fill the quiet.

and somewhere in the middle of all of that, y/n felt something dangerous creeping in. something gentle. something like hope.

a year passed.

it started as nothing. a headache here. a little fatigue. manon brushed it off, the way anyone her age would. blamed it on late nights, caffeine, maybe stress. she was always in motion, always vibrating at a higher frequency than anyone else in the room. too many playlists to make, too many open tabs in her brain. so when the tiredness lingered, she didn’t say anything.

but y/n noticed.

she noticed when manon started showing up to the bookstore a little later each time. when she leaned heavier against the counter, smiled a little less brightly. when she stopped finishing her coffee, when she sat instead of danced.

the cough came next. dry, quiet at first. but persistent.

“allergies,” manon had said with a shrug, waving it off. “probably dust or whatever.”

y/n wanted to believe her. she tried. but the weight loss didn’t stop. manon’s skin dulled. her eyes dimmed. and there were days—quiet, terrifying days—when she seemed like she was just barely holding herself upright.

they weren’t dating. not exactly. not yet. but they shared pieces of each other now. manon lingered at the bookstore until close just to walk y/n to the bus. y/n had started bringing her herbal teas and cough drops, slipping them into her bag without comment. they exchanged playlists. secrets. names of books that made them cry.

so when y/n got a text saying can you come over? she didn’t ask why. she just went.

the apartment was dim. manon’s room smelled faintly of lavender and laundry detergent. she was sitting on the edge of her bed, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, phone face down beside her. she looked up when y/n entered, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

y/n sat beside her without touching her.

“what’s wrong?”

manon stared at the floor. swallowed.

“i went to get bloodwork done,” she said finally. “more tests. the clinic called today.”

y/n felt her stomach turn.

“they… it’s cancer.”

y/n didn’t move. couldn’t.

“lymphoma,” manon added, too calm. “they caught it early, they think. but it’s real. it’s happening.”

the air felt suddenly too thick to breathe.

“i don’t know how to do this,” manon said softly, voice cracking. “i just moved here. i was starting to feel like i was finding my footing. i met you. and now… now everything feels like it’s slipping.”

neither of them cried right away. it wasn’t that kind of moment. it was colder. quieter. like something ancient in the body remembering grief before it arrives.

and for y/n, it did arrive.

“say something.” manon practically begged, quiet.

it bloomed in her chest like a warning. not again, it screamed. her blood went cold. this was why she hadn’t wanted to open herself. why she’d kept people at arms’ length for so long. because something always came to take them.

“i need to go,” y/n said, and the words tasted like rust.

she stood too quickly. the chair scraped against the wood, sharp and sudden, and manon flinched like it had cut through her. y/n didn’t look back. couldn’t. her legs moved on instinct, carrying her out of manon’s room, past the soft light of the kitchen, past the coat rack with manon’s jacket still hanging from it. the apartment felt too full, too quiet, too warm for what had just been said.

behind her, manon didn’t follow.

the hallway outside was dim. some overhead light flickered, buzzing faintly like it was shorting out. y/n didn’t stop walking until she was out of the building. she didn’t stop even then. just kept moving, down cracked sidewalks and across wet intersections, her chest burning. she didn’t know where she was going, only that she couldn’t stay.

not there. not near her.

her hands were shaking. she shoved them in her coat pockets. her throat ached from trying not to scream.

why now?

why did the universe keep handing her beauty just to rip it away?

manon had smiled like sunlight. she had filled y/n’s once empty days with noise and color and chaos. and now—now that brightness had an expiration date.

no, y/n thought. no no no no.

but her feet kept walking.

when she got home, she didn’t turn the lights on. she sat on the edge of her bed in the dark, still wearing her coat, arms wrapped tight around herself. she didn’t cry. not yet. something in her had already started to shut down. like a door closing. a lock turning. like a heart bracing for the next goodbye. she wanted so badly to reach for her phone, to google all the symptoms, treatments, life expectancy, anything. yet, she didn’t.

no amount of statistics were stronger than the gut wrenching pull in her chest that told her what she already knew.

this was it.

the room was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the radiator kicking on. taeyeon didn’t speak right away. she’d grown used to the way y/n sat when she didn’t know how to begin. hands clenched together, gaze locked on some faraway point on the carpet, like if she focused hard enough, she could will herself invisible.

“i assume you’re not here just to sit in silence,” taeyeon said eventually.

y/n didn’t look up. “she’s dying,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

taeyeon’s tone didn’t shift. no shock, no gasp, just a steady presence. “you mean manon?”

a nod.

“when did you find out?”

“three nights ago.”

“and what did you do?”

y/n blinked. “i left. she told me and i didn’t say anything. i just walked out.”

taeyeon let the admission hang in the air, like a confession cracked wide open. “why?”

y/n’s throat felt tight. she hated this part. the dissection. the honesty. “i was afraid. it was happening again. i felt it in my chest like deja vu. like loss was already blooming there. like something ancient.”

“so you ran before it could happen.”

“yes.” her voice cracked. “and now it’s already happened.”

taeyeon wrote something down, briefly. “tell me what ‘it’ is.”

“the goodbye. even if she doesn’t die for months or years. i’ve already lost her.”

taeyeon leaned back in her chair. “you’ve spent so long fearing the endings, you’ve convinced yourself they’re inevitable. but that’s not fate. that’s avoidance.”

“what if the ending is inevitable?” y/n asked, desperate now. “what if she’s supposed to die, and i’m supposed to watch it happen again? what if this is just another life i have to lose her in?”

“then what?” taeyeon asked. “you let her die alone?”

y/n looked up, stung.

“you believe in past lives. in soulmates. in stories repeating themselves,” taeyeon continued, gently now. “so tell me—if you really believe this was written, then who are you to think you can stop it by not showing up?”

“because it hurts less if i’m not there.”

“does it?” taeyeon asked. “because from where i’m sitting, it doesn’t look like it hurts any less. it just hurts differently.”

y/n swallowed, hard. “i don’t know what to do.”

“you don’t need to do anything heroic,” taeyeon said. “you just need to show up. she’s still here. she’s still alive. she still needs someone who doesn’t disappear when things get hard.”

silence stretched again, but this time it didn’t feel empty.

“so go to her,” taeyeon said. “not because you can fix her. not because you can save her. but because she’s someone you love. and that matters. it always has.”

y/n nodded, eyes burning. this time, she didn’t argue.

one moment y/n was leaving taeyeon’s office, the next she was sitting behind the counter at the bookstore. she’d closed early. her afternoon was spent between books and various medical webpages. and then, she was leaving.

she had to make things right.

within ten minutes, y/n stood in the hallway outside manon’s apartment, heart pounding in a way that felt like it might tear her apart from the inside. the door cracked open a little, and sophia’s sharp eyes met hers immediately. no welcome in the gaze, just that familiar protective glare, the kind that said don’t mess this up or don’t come back at all. yet, without a word, sophia stepped aside and let y/n in.

the apartment smelled faintly of antiseptic and stale air, a quiet heaviness pressing down on everything. manon was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a threadbare blanket, her face pale but defiant. the kind of defiance that felt like it could crumble at any moment. her eyes, sharp and wet with hurt, locked onto y/n’s the second she stepped inside. there was so much pain in those eyes, the kind of pain y/n had never wanted to be the cause of again.

“you shouldn’t be here,” manon said, voice brittle but steady, like she was trying to protect herself before she even spoke.

y/n swallowed the lump in her throat, stepping closer, holding out a small box wrapped in soft paper. “i did research,” she said quietly, voice shaking just a little. “there are treatments, options i found. i know it’s not perfect. but i want to try. i want to be here for you.”

manon’s eyes flickered, a storm of emotions crashing behind them. anger, pain, desperation, and then something softer, almost like hope. it was fleeting, but it was there.

“you really think you can fix this?” manon whispered, but the edge had softened.

“maybe not fix,” y/n answered, kneeling down so she was at eye level. “but fight. with you. if you want.”

manon’s breath hitched, and then she nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly. the weight between them shifted just a bit.

the months that followed unfolded in waves. sharp, brutal, unrelenting. they began with cautious hope, with treatment plans mapped out across sterile tables and doctors who spoke in a language y/n had to learn one desperate phrase at a time. words like metastasis and prognosis became part of her daily vocabulary. she kept a notebook with scribbled margins and highlighted passages, trying to make sense of the labyrinth they’d been thrown into.

chemotherapy came first. the poison meant to heal. manon took it like a warrior, but even warriors break. she tried to joke at first, brushing off the nausea, the sudden exhaustion that followed each round like a shadow. but the hair came out in clumps by week three, and the day she sat in the bathroom with y/n, silently handing over the scissors, something in the air cracked.

they cried together. not loudly, not dramatically—just quietly, as y/n guided the clippers over her scalp, kissing her bare shoulder every time manon’s breath hitched.

radiation followed, and with it came a different kind of hollowing. manon grew smaller. not just physically, though the weight dropped quickly, but in presence. her fire dimmed, her voice thinner. there were days she didn’t speak at all, days when she lay curled on the couch, trembling from pain, eyes unfocused, distant. but y/n never left. not once. she was there to hold the bucket when manon vomited until there was nothing left to give, there to rub lotion into paper-thin skin, to whisper comfort into the silence.

she learned the landscape of manon’s pain. the patterns in her breathing, the quiet signals of a day turned worse. she memorized med schedules, drove her to every appointment, and sat through every long hour in waiting rooms that smelled like antiseptic and fear.

and somewhere along the way, she grew closer to sophia and megan. what started as an uneasy truce slowly deepened into something like kinship. they saw her there, always there, even when manon lashed out in frustration, even when she was too tired to speak. they saw y/n carry her through the darkest nights without complaint. sophia started leaving coffee out in the mornings when y/n stayed over. megan offered to pick up groceries when she noticed y/n hadn’t eaten properly in days.

they became a unit. scarred, sleep-deprived, fiercely protective of the girl they all loved.

and manon… manon began to soften again. even in the midst of the storm, even as her body grew weaker, there were moments of clarity, of fierce affection. her hand would find y/n’s in the quiet, her thumb brushing over her knuckles. she would press a kiss to y/n’s temple on the rare nights when she had enough strength to pull her close. she stopped asking why are you still here? and started whispering thank you instead.

everything changed. everything hurt. but y/n stayed. through the sickness, the fragility, the fear, the slow unraveling of the woman she had loved in every life before this one.

because this was the promise she had made.

and she would keep it.

on the eve of another surgery—the riskiest yet—manon asked for a moment alone with y/n. the hospital room was dim, painted in the soft gold light of early evening, machines humming low around them like a lullaby with no melody. y/n sat beside her, heart heavy, hands trembling. manon reached out, her fingers lacing through y/n’s like they belonged there.

her touch was weaker now, but her eyes burned with the same fire y/n had always known. fierce. raw. unrelenting even in the face of fear.

“there’s something i need to tell you,” manon said, voice barely above a whisper. “i had this dream. or maybe it wasn’t a dream—it felt too real. like memories layered over each other. a montage of us. every lifetime. every version of us. and every time, i lost you first.”

y/n’s breath stilled in her chest.

“but this time,” manon continued, her grip tightening, “this time it’s me. and even though that breaks my heart, i’m still glad. because we met again. and that has to mean something. that has to count for more than just another ending.”

her eyes glistened, her voice catching. “at least one of our meetings has to end happy. and if it’s not this one, then maybe the next. or the one after that.”

she paused. then, quieter, almost pleading, “promise me you’ll find me again. no matter how long it takes.”

y/n blinked, tears spilling freely now. she brought manon’s hand to her lips, pressed a kiss against her knuckles like a vow.

“i promise,” she whispered, voice cracking around the words. “always.”

the surgery came too soon, a cruel thief dressed in white scrubs and quiet reassurances. things unraveled fast. complications, fevers, numbers dropping on machines that had once felt hopeful. no miracle came. no sudden turn. just the slow, irreversible fading of someone who had fought too hard for too long.

manon slipped away quietly. not in violence or chaos, but like a candle guttering out at the end of its wick. soft. final.

at the wake, y/n sat between sophia and megan, their hands linked in silent grief. the room was thick with sorrow, the kind that settled into bones and stayed there. photographs surrounded them, snapshots of a life that had been hard-won, deeply lived. none of it felt like enough.

y/n felt hollow. like the best parts of her had been buried, too. and yet… something still burned inside her. not anger. not hope. something older. fiercer.

a promise.

no sickness, no death, no cruel twist of fate could sever what they were. what they had always been.

she would find manon again. in another time, another skin, another life. maybe it would take years. centuries. maybe it already had. but she would keep looking.

because this was just one version of their story.

and one day—whether next time or the one after that—they would get it right. they would find their forever.

and y/n would keep her promise.

and she did.

in the next life, perhaps the best one they got, y/n found her again.

there was no certainty, no divine answer to whether this life would be the last of them, the one that finally broke the loop or merely paused it. but maybe it didn’t matter anymore. maybe it was enough that they’d had this—this quiet, sun-drenched life carved out of stubborn hope and years that had taught them how to hold on.

they were older now. softer in the way people get when they’ve fought too long and finally let themselves rest. manon’s hair had gone silver at the temples. y/n still kissed the corners of her eyes every morning, where time had left its delicate marks.

outside, the countryside stretched in golden stillness, summer wind weaving through the tall grass. the old dog dozed nearby, belly rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm. the porch creaked beneath y/n’s weight as she sat beside manon, her arm tucked gently around her wife’s frail shoulders. their children were inside, making tea, trying not to cry too loud.

manon’s breathing was thin now. shallow, labored. she’d chosen this. chosen to leave the hospital behind, chosen to be surrounded by the life they’d built together. the one they’d clawed out of fate’s grip with both hands.

y/n held her hand, memorizing the shape of it all over again. she didn’t need to speak. manon’s eyes met hers, and in them, there was peace. not because death didn’t hurt. not because it didn’t still feel unfair. but because they had found each other. again.

and this time, they’d been allowed to stay.

manon’s last breath slipped out like a sigh, the softest goodbye. the breeze carried it, warm and gentle.

y/n didn’t cry right away. she just leaned her head against manon’s and whispered something only the wind would hear.

because she knew.

in any timeline, in any world, in every version of forever— she would find her.

always.

#katseye #katseye imagines #katseye x reader #manon bannerman #meret manon #manon katseye #katseye manon #manon x reader #manon

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lolsmiley · 3 months ago

Note

Hi can I request a second chance romance with Lara where she does a series of sweet things to win reader over again and says something like “No one can make me feel like you do and it’s killing me” :( . Reader plays hard to get at first but can’t resist Lara’s charm and how hard she’s trying.

lara’s desperate apology— lara raj

genre: FLUFFFF

synopsis: lara lost y/n. so she built her a minecraft world to win her back. it’s sad, chaotic, and its kinda working

—

lara was not okay. she wasn’t eating.

she wasn’t sleeping.

she was speedrunning heartbreak like it was a competitive sport.

“you okay?” megan asked one night, catching her staring blankly at the wall.

lara, holding a half-built lego flower: “i tried recreating y/n’s laugh using redstone mechanics and it exploded.”

she was in deep.

the breakup had been mutual on the surface. “bad timing,” “too busy,” “let’s just be friends.”

but inside, lara was dying. dramatically.

like this was a medieval tragedy and she was the princess sobbing in a tower.

except the tower was made of pixel blocks.

because yes, lara downloaded minecraft. again.

and not for fun.

for love.

she spent three weeks building a world just for y/n.

she called it:

“lara’s desperate apology”

y/n didn’t respond to the texts. didn’t like her instagram story where she soft-launched the pixelated cottage with the caption “some people build houses. i build regret.”

but then… finally she checked her inbox.

🧊 lara sent you a minecraft file:

enter at your own risk. (risk: me crying)

she logged in.

and immediately regretted it—but also kind of didn’t.

the spawn point was a field of roses shaped into a giant “I’M SO SORRY 😭.”

a full-scale recreation of their first cafe date—except the waiter was a minecraft villager in a top hat.

there were signs everywhere. y/n couldn’t walk two steps without being emotionally harassed.

day 7 without you: i wrote you a ballad. it’s bad.

day 14: i named my minecraft dog after you and now i cry when it barks.

day 19: started monologuing to the cows. they are very judgmental.

and then—

a secret path through a tunnel of glowstone hearts.

at the end, a tiny garden. a bench. and lara’s character sitting there.

bunny onesie. flower crown. holding a book titled:

“i’m pathetic but in love.”

y/n approached slowly. cautiously. afraid of what the book might say.

she opened it.

“no one makes me feel like you do. and it’s literally killing me. i’ve been eating nothing but microwave rice and crying in shaders. please sit on our bench. i made your favorite flowers. i made your favorite clouds. i adjusted the weather settings for you.”

y/n stared at the screen.

and then at her messages.

lara:

i also made a shrine to your laugh in the mountain, but the sheep keep climbing it. i think that’s symbolic.

y/n:

you are the most dramatic human being alive.

lara:

but am i yours again :(

y/n:

explain the pixel art of us kissing that i found under the lake???

lara:

i blacked out emotionally. i was in a creative flow state. it’s art. don’t question the vision.

y/n:

i hate you.

lara:

i built you a world.

i adjusted the moon cycles to be romantic.

i coded bees to hover around you like bodyguards.

i am not okay, y/n. i am wearing the bunny skin because it was the last thing you complimented me on

y/n:

i’m coming to the bench.

lara’s character immediately started throwing cookies in the air.

accidentally hit herself with a potion.

ran in a circle.

and then caught on fire and jumped into the lake again.

and y/n just sighed.

bit her lip.

smiled.

because lara was annoying.

and loud.

and down horrendously bad.

but she built her an entire world just to say sorry.

and maybe that’s what love is.

blocky.

awkward.

slightly on fire.

but hers.

still hers.

and that night, they sat on the pixel bench.

together again.

as a cow wandered over and mooed at them in solidarity.

—

#katseye x reader #lara raj #lara raj x reader #katseye imagines #katseye lara

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lolsmiley · 4 months ago

Text

୨୧　𝓐IN'T YOUR GIRLFRIEND!　˒˒　MB

─── ﹙☕️﹚you're not her girlfriend, and she's not yours, so why was her jaw clenched at the mere sight of you with another person?

pairing. manon bannerman x 7th member f!r genre. angst & fluff wc. 1k notes. lowk don't rlly like this but wtv 😭 loosely based off of a gilmore girls scene tho !!! req here ( MASTERLIST )

now playing ⋆ boyfriend by ariana grande ft. social house

"IT'S JUST ME AND YOU, AGAINST THE WORLD."

since the start of dream academy, that was all manon repeated, the particular sentence becoming a mantra in your head. the soft, gentle tone of her voice only made you believe her words more—the way they just roll off of her tongue so smoothly, like it was everything to her.

the strobing lights of the lively party, accompanied by the buzzing of laughter, music, and people's bodies up against one-another's, only serves to make your head reel. you knew the responsibilities of being an idol, especially socializing with others to form connections on late nights where you could be at home, unwinding after a stressful week of constant promotions.

and yet, despite all the chaos that fills the venue, all of manon's mind was set on one thing—you. her jaw clenches with her eyes scrutinizing your every movement, and her ears tuning in on the sound of your infectious laughter from across the venue.

manon thinks—no, she knows—that from any proximity, she could pick up on the sound of your distinct laughter, and the way your hair was tousled and lips glossy. her eyes drift to your silhouette in the crowd, accompanied by another silhouette, noticing the gleaming, ear-to-ear smile playing on your face.

with her ring-clad hand curling around the glass of her soda, the drink practically crumples under her fist from the pressure on it, her irritation growing at her chest from the sight.

for the entirety of dream academy up to now, you and manon have been stuck in the same continual cycle like mice—the two of you attached to one-another's hips, then random, sporadic periods of avoiding one-another, and then back to acting like you two would die without seeing each other. so why was manon seething while her eyes scan for you over the crowd?

a set of arms suddenly snake around your waist, making a quiet squeal escaping your throat, before you realize it was manon.

"jesus," you mumble under your breath audibly, as you take a deep breath.

"who's this?" the ghanaian girl mutters, her eyes narrowing down at the guy beside you. your eyes quickly dart towards the guy with uncertainty, as you meekly mumble out, "just a new friend."

"new friend, huh?" manon drawls, sending a glare down the guy, her jealousy practically like a ticking bomb, "isn't it getting late? we should leave, shouldn't we?"

the girl nudges your shoulder gently, beckoning you to just agree, as you struggle between whether or not you should follow manon.

"c'mon, it's like, what, 10 pm," the low register of your "new friend" barely audible above the blaring party music, "loosen up!" he exclaims, a toothy grin playing on his face, which did nothing but fuel manon's resentment.

"i don't need to be told to loosen up," the ghanaian girl sneers, shaking her head, as she scoffs while making inaudible comments under her breath. a slight furrow forms between her brows, her eyes piercing through the guy, with her mouth slightly open, as if she was in disbelief at his ego.

"jeez, what's your issue?" he grumbles, as he leans his arms on your shoulders, a grin playing on his face. "besides, 'm sure she still wants to be here," he directs at you.

before manon could make another quip, your hands curl around her wrist, dragging her elsewhere. a thin line presses onto your lips, as your hands move to the girl's shoulders, trying to push her gently.

"you're no fun when you're tense, y'know that?" a low chuckle escapes her breath, and god, you could feel your knees buck at her sardonic comment.

"maybe this whole thing could be solved between that new friend of yours and i if we just sat down, had a little heart-to-heart; he could tell me his issues, and i'll tell him mine," she giggles before continuing:

"i promise i'll speak slowly."

"manon!" you hoarsely exclaim her name, as you lament at her taunting comments. with your back plastered against the cold, marble wall, manon practically cages you in.

"the fuck is up with you?" you mutter, disdain painting your features, as you watch manon's arms cross against her chest, glaring at you.

"i wonder what's up, especially when you're so clearly flirting that random guy," her lips press into a thin line, trying to sound casual, but you catch the prominent edge in her voice.

you rub your temples, "i'm not dealing with your shit right now; this isn't the place nor time for this, manon," and even then, your tone was gentle, her name rolling off your tongue smoothly.

"i- i mean, i don't get you. you tell me you wanna be mine, then ditch me right after, and it just leaves me there, fuckin' waiting for you. even the members can tell," you sigh, all in one breath, as your cheeks flare, "this- this was stupid; we shouldn't have even crossed this boundary in the first place!"

"calm down, fuck, baby," manon pauses, the nickname just slipping out of her mouth almost instinctively. she tries to lean closer to you, only to be held at an arms' length due to your hands pressed against her chest, moving her away.

you cross your arms against your chest, heat curling at your cheeks, "so, talk."

"i didn't mean for things to be like this, okay? i like you—more than anybody else. please, y/n," she practically pleas, her hands interlocking with yours instinctively. her nails hover over your hands, sending chains of shivers down your spine.

"how can i even believe you?" you snicker, eyes glazing over her expression and the very obvious hint of hurt on her face, your words bruising her ego.

her hands pull on your collar before you could register what was happening, "it's only you; i kept us as friends because i was afraid—afraid of the trouble we could be in." and by then, manon couldn't help but chastise herself for being so stupid when handling the situation, feeling her complacency crumble.

"manon—" it was absurd how easy it was for the ghanaian girl to make your breath hitch and your head spin, especially with the sincerity laced in her words that made you love struck. with your gaze fixating on her lips, your hands hastily move to the back of her neck, your lips capturing hers.

the girl practically leaves you breathless, as you pull away, her breath hitting against your lips, "been wantin' to do this since forever," her words almost desperate-sounding.

"i don't wanna be just whatever we are—girlfriends only," you lay out flatly, your hands resting on manon's shoulders, as you slightly tilt your head.

"so, will you be mine?" a chuckle escapes her breath, a hint of her previous teasing demeanor returning, as she buries her head against the nook of your neck, sighing heavenly.

but you don't want me to touch nobody else (nobody)

baby, we ain't gotta tell nobody

taglist. ୨ৎ @lararajjj @kisshae @sed7ction

@jellaaa @yeetaberry127 @angelixstorm

#katseye x reader #katseye imagines #katseye manon #katseye manon bannerman #katseye manon x reader #katseye manon bannerman x reader #manon bannerman x reader #manon x reader

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lolsmiley · 5 months ago

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— 𝓑reakin' dishes

— ( �� ) I'm breakin' dishes up in here, all night (uh-huh) I ain't gon' stop until I see police lights (uh-huh) I'ma fight a man

meret manon x fem reader, jealousy, angst(?), fluff, mentions of men , party, swearing, protective!manon, loser!reader, wc [?], tags listed below

manon had been excited about this party for the longest time — she had everything planned out, what she would wear and how it would match what you'd wear too

it was the annual hybe anniversary party — all sorts of idols and staffs will be there which intimidated you, i mean not to be boastful or anything but your girlfriend is one of the most talented people ever which is why she'd probably not recognize the problem of you coming along

you are a very private person, barely posting on your socials nor making that many friends — you talk to 4 people max

"come on love, I'll be there! — and the rest of the girls" manon says convincing you as she applies her gloss, you have worn a black cocktail dress with pearl accessories which the ghanian also had to force you to wear

"plus look at you, you're the prettiest girl right now — and every day, i swear my love no one would judge you" the older compliments with that smug grin plastered on her face

"okay enough of you miss bannerman" you roll your eyes at manon due to her teasing — you both walk out of the apartment her hands on your waist as if you were gonna run off which made you internally laugh

during the drive, you felt the older woman's eyes glued on you, you smirk a bit because of how flustered she makes you over small things

manon is the epitome of obsession, even her members can testify to that, her wallpaper? you, her necklace? your initial, everything is you basically

the place was lively and loud to say the least, many famous faces were running around, dancing even singing — manon's eye immediately lit up with excitement which you found adorable

the party was amazing, you and manon had a great time, well until she got sweeped up by her friends, it was scary to you especially you didnt know anyone at all and not to mention you didnt even work under hybe

manon was busy talking to some friends and god you couldn't stop staring at her she looked so beautiful under the messy lights, her lips looked much more enticing especially when it was covered in liquor

"hey there pretty" you hear a man snicker behind you, despite your initial discomfort you decided to talk to him, he reeked of alcohol and he wasn't much of a looker neither

"hi" you shortly responded turning your attention back at your phone, but he was just getting closer by the second the next her hand was on your chair

"come on flash me a smile, don't be rude" his annoying remark well annoyed you, you wanted to push him off but it wouldn't be right since you barely knew this dude

his hands suddenly grasp your shoulder and you froze in spot, mainly out of fear and partly disgust, a man had this much audacity even when you have shown clear signs of dislike to him

"are you fucking mute or what bitch" the man sneers you wanted to run but you were unfortunately cornered and no one would look at where you were sitting

your hands started getting sweaty from fear as your heart thumped against your chest, the urge to scream was definitely there but you couldn't bring yourself to

"hey get the fuck off her, are you seriously cornering my girlfriend?" you hear manon speak behind the man pushing him off you as he falls you see a look of anger flashing in his eyes

manon was even more mad though, her stance indicated she was ready to fight if needed, her fists clenched and her eyes darken, "ill give you a chance to fucking leave or I'll get security to drag you out" manon mutters trying to relax

you look at manon, very grateful you had a strong girlfriend but scared that she might get hit by the dude, you walk up beside her holding her arms with yours

"let him be, let's go please" you silently plead to the older girl, afraid of the lengths she would go to for you, especially when she had seen how the guy disrespected you

manon scoffs, holding your wrist tightly as you two walk away, going near the rest of the kats, worry plastered all over their faces as they notice the oldest demeanor

at home the ghanian girl looked rather guilty, as she watches you get ready for bed — her eyes telling you just how bad she felt

"baby, are you alright?" you ask manon, sitting beside her as you trace circles on her arms a comforting gesture that had always calmed her down

"i just- I'm so annoyed with myself, I thought you were flirting with that dude earlier, that's why I stormed over" manon admits her eyes watery, as her lips pout out

"baby its alright, i understand i should've told him off when it started" you coo at her

"but still, i shouldn't be that easily jelous" manon frowns, "but its okay!, manon we all feel emotions — i understand how you felt now stop being mad at yourself" you respond

"and hey you defended me from that creep, okay? don't be harsh on yourself" you mutter taking the girls face in your hands kissing her cheeks till it was tinted pink

"i love youuu, please don't stop being jealous i find it quite hot" you whisper to the girl who cracks a smile at your declaration

"i swear i was gonna beat him up-" you cut off the older kissing her lips "okay maybe not that aggressive, love"

note : hi ppl sorry for lack of updates life has js been hectic for me :((, anyways love u alll!!!

#katseye imagines #katseye x reader #meret manon #meret manon imagines #manon katseye

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lolsmiley · 6 months ago

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┈─★ 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 ?

⊹ ࣪ ˖ when an unexpected breakup leaves you without a date to your sister’s wedding, it’s perfect, confident lara raj, the goalie for your university's hockey team, who jumps in to your rescue and volunteers to keep up a charade until your family is off your back. but as your friendship deepens, the lines begin to blur between what’s real and what’s for show.

ˎˊ˗ ❄️ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 🔓୭˚. ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

➴ pairing: hockey player! lara raj x physical therapy major!f!reader

➴ genre + wc: 12k, college au, FAKE DATING!, mutual pining, extremely slow burn, friends to lovers, denial of feelings, charming hockey jock lara, super domestic and slice of life-y, reader is a chronic overthinker and people pleaser...., just more fluff idk

➴ you might want to tune in...: sticky - kiss of life

┈─★ a/n: goalie lara anyone? the hockey au expands w our favorite team mommy <33 this fic is set overlapping the events of ditto, so if you're waiting for ditto pt 2, this gives a tiny behind the scenes. i am so in love w writing the dynamics in this verse, i hope everyone enjoys! dani's upcoming fic will complete the trio and prob be the longest of the three. also should clarify: megan + ditto!y/n are freshmen; hlbwfil!y/n, lara and dani are sophomores; sophia and manon are juniors.

cw:// mentions of recreational drug use, some suggestiveness? also reader BRIEFLY dates a man...

[*set overlapping the events of ditto-- read first here if you don't want spoilers!]

a new semester, same routine. it’s your second year as the women’s hockey team’s resident physical therapist in training. kinesiology isn’t an easy major, but you love it with your whole heart, and the girls all make it worth it.

“i’m just saying, matching tattoos would look sick,” daniela says as the golden trio approaches the physio room after their showers.

“yeah, but not of each other’s faces,” megan grimaces. you laugh at the notion that dani would even suggest it.

“oh my god, the world’s most beautiful girl,” lara smiles, dropping down onto the cushioned bench in front of you.

“oh my god, i must be a mirror,” you grin back.

you won’t talk about your soft spot for the trio. you love all of the girls on the team, but there’s a special bond you built with the three musketeers. megan, the baby of the team, who opened up to you about how much she misses her mom as you walk her through some stretches for her back strain. dani, the chaotic team captain with no boundaries, who beams every time you compliment her after she makes it through her ice bath without flinching.

and lara raj. you especially won’t talk about your soft spot for lara, the confident, secure goalie who you’ve grown especially close with.

you know lara makes it a habit to be this nice to everybody. it comes with the territory. you know lara comes from money without flaunting it, always offering to cover meals for the girls with that insanely heavy black credit card with her dad’s name on it. she’s told you a little bit about how good she’s had it, the perfect parents, a super nice older sister, solid grades and of course, a talent for making sure a puck never flies past her.

it’s easy to love lara— perfect, confident, generous lara.

(so maybe you let yourself love her, just a little too much, but that’s for you to keep to yourself.)

lara’s compliments can sometimes come off as a bit much, but that’s the thing you’ve realized with her. while megan is usually too nervous to choke out anything, and dani says whatever is on her mind with no filter, lara finds the perfect balance. lara is observant and attentive, and she sees people for what they care about and finds a way to make them feel seen for it.

well, you don’t exactly prioritize being beautiful, but it’s a bonus that lara likes to call her loved ones pretty.

“can i talk to you about something?” she asks as you put stabilizing tape on her shoulder. your supervisor is in the office coming up with treatment plans for that week for the rest of the team.

despite daniela being the one that boasts the giant “c” on her jersey, lara is the de facto team mom. while dani is the one screaming in coach’s face about his unfair treatment of a player, lara the one constantly waving you down when someone tries to hide an injury or fake feeling better, making sure they get the attention they need instead of toughing it out. their dynamic is polar opposite, the defender and the caretaker but the two best friends complete each other.

“what’s up?” you hum, watching as the strips of KT tape start to make a mesmerizing pattern against lara’s soft skin.

“i’m worried about meg’s grade in our english class.” she whispers, ensuring the girl can’t hear you guys from outside the door. “dani chat gpt’s it all and gets away with it, i feel fine, but we’re struggling to help her keep up.”

“you told her not to take intro to british lit with you,” you remind her.

“i know, but i don’t think it’ll help to rub it in right now,” she sighs. “it’s so much reading."

you feel your brow furrow as you remember your assistant coach whispering something about academic probation to your head coach once last week, when they were doing their monthly grade assessment. the season is going so well, and megan’s been absolutely killing her position as center to the point that she’s the starter, so you can imagine how bad the team would suffer if she gets temporarily barred from playing.

you see the look in her eyes. lara’s worried about what it’ll do to megan if she gets dinged for her grades and has to stop playing, even for a short amount of time.

“when yunjin got diagnosed with adhd, she was able to talk to the university resource center to ask for more time during tests,” you remember, wracking your brain for a solution. the defenseman had told you about it at the very beginning of the semester, as if it was a hack.

“okay, period. we have a plan a,” lara beams. “you and that big brain, y/n.”

you feel your ears redden and shake your head. “what’s our plan b in case my big brain fails?”

“i will seduce her professor and change the grade myself,” she decides. you laugh but quickly feel yourself furrow as she winces at the you bend her shoulder. she tries to keep you away from changing the topic. “i’ll take one for the team. maybe that should be plan a, actually.”

“hey, no,” you press gently, concerned. she had told you the shoulder was pain free. “is your rotator cuff still bothering you?”

“it’s sore when i don’t stretch it, but that’s just me getting old,” lara waves you off.

“what do you think i’m going to say to you next?” you ask her.

“oh my god, y/n, always so non-confrontational. like my little conscience in my ear, asking me questions until the guilt eats me alive,” lara laughs, shoving you away from her. “it’s so annoying how good at that you are, you pacifist.”

you smile and put your supplies away, but lara’s words are nothing but the truth. you’re so painfully fearful of confrontation, it’s almost a joke that the career you’ve picked is with a full contact sport.

you open your mouth to say something, to ask further about the injury, when your phone ringing catches your attention. you feel yourself tense as you see the contact photo.

but lara, perfect, attentive lara, never misses anything with you.

“boyfriend again?”

she gives you a questioning look. she knows everything about you, including how rocky things have been with your less than attentive boyfriend lately.

“distance isn’t easy on anyone,” you say simply, but her look says enough. she gets up and offers you a reassuring hug.

“you’re not just anyone, so don’t let him treat you like you are.” how the hell does she always manage to sound straight out of a soap opera? you nod, blinking back the rising heat in your chest at the nerves

“it’s complicated,” you remind her, but she’s already giving you that look. you hate how you guys can communicate so much with so little.

you flag your supervisor to come check your work and step outside to take the call. you can feel lara’s eyes on you the whole time.

“hi felix…”

a week passes by, and so do two more phone calls that go the exact same way. all ending with a knot in your stomach at his words. you’re silently grateful that your roommate dropped out in the second week of school. a solo dorm all to yourself is a luxury you don’t take for granted when you’re so constantly fighting on the phone with someone into the late hours of the night.

“he’s mad about me not calling him when he got out of class again,” you sigh over facetime with daniela, as you flop onto your bed after a particularly boring history lecture. “i have explained so many times that i go straight from class to go work on you guys after practice.”

“go cheat on him or something,” daniela says simply. “he’s an annoying little bitch.”

“dani,” you sigh exasperatedly. you love her, but it’s easy to see why coach blames her for his going bald. she can be extremely difficult and give zero fucks about it.

you’ve always kept an extremely small circle. but lara’s in class, megan has never been in a relationship, yunjin is out with her girlfriend, and you’d rather die than talk to your sister about your boyfriend issues.

which leaves daniela, whose brash, calloused responses remind you just how perfect and emotionally in-tune with you lara is.

however, what daniela lacks in tact she makes up for in passion and pure heart, so you can always read between the lines and see her intentions are good.

“dude, come get fucked up with me and the kappa theta girls this weekend and you will literally never want to talk to that limp dick loser again.”

okay. mostly good intentions.

you remain silent as you assess the lack of food in your minifridge. usually, the silent treatment works wonders to get dani back on track, and this time is no exception.

“well, either way, you’ve always got lara who’d drop anything to marry you in a heartbeat.”

you laugh. that’d what you needed, the thing the three musketeers are so good at– saying the stupidest things.

“i’m ready when she is,” you tell her jokingly, tossing an old box of leftovers into the trash.

“been ready. break up with your soggy bitch and i’ll take y’all to the courthouse tomorrow.” you hear her laugh, but then you hear something like water bubbling, followed by a long exhale.

“don’t you have a press conference tomorrow?” you laugh, realizing exactly what the noise was.

“why do you think i’m getting baked out of my mind right now instead of in the morning? for a smart girl you’re kinda dumb sometimes, y/n,” she teases.

“don’t flirt with me too loud now, my dorm’s gonna end up burnt down by one of your crazy stalkers,” you deadpan dryly, realizing you need to go get something to eat.

“when you decide you’re done with that fucking joke of a man, i know a girl who’s lined up waiting for you,” she tells you between coughs, “and unfortunately for you, it isn’t me.”

“thanking god that i’m the one girl on earth who won’t take a ride on the avanzini train,” you laugh. daniela has always been respectfully inappropriate, and she’s one of the few people you feel comfortable enough to tease. “your ride’s probably messed up anyways.”

“100% satisfaction rate, lots of insistent repeat customers actually,” she defends herself passionately. “i wouldn’t be so bold, y/n, your shit is probably whack if it’s got your man tweaking so bad.”

“and the convo ends nee-ow,” you sigh, shaking your head, but your heart feels a little less heavy after dani’s nonsense. “thanks for cheering me up, captain.”

“thanks for patching us up all the time. we love you, y/n. keep your head up.”

the line dies out, and you go to lace up your sneakers. as much as dani loves to say shit to get a rise out of people, you think back over her words. lara.

perfect, confident lara has always been honest about how much she adores you. at first, you used to think it was just her way of making you feel comfortable around all of them. the hockey team is close, freakishly close, and she was always so warm and thoughtful enough to invite you to all their outings and make you feel included. she never had to– you’re only with them through next year, and then senior year you’ll be at the university medical center working in a real physical therapy clinic for your clinical rotation. your end goal is sports medicine, and you’d love to get hired by the hockey team once you graduate, but you need to keep your options open and be prepared for anything.

plus, you and felix are supposed to look for jobs in the same city once you graduate, move in together, build a life…

that beautiful, melodic voice enters your head as you hunt down your wallet. lara loved to bat her eyes at you whenever you mentioned not knowing what comes after graduation: “aw y/n, don’t you wanna take care of me forever?”

in the early days, you used to think she and dani were the same breed of college athlete. cocky, arrogant, flirtatious. the flirting rang true for the both of them, but you started to see where lara differed. she was tender, caring, and empathetic at times you had least expected.

the first time she ever told you she’d liked you, you thought it was another one of her mindless flirtations. you had learned to let them roll off your shoulder by that point. but even after you had laughed, she stood there, brows arched, and reiterated it. “y/n, i’m serious. i really am into you.”

you feel your spine tingle at the memory. what are you supposed to do with that? you and felix had just hit a year. a rocky, bumpy year, but you had met just after high school and you figured you owed it your best shot. lara was quickly one of your closest friends, and you had confided everything in her.

she never defined it as a crush, nor did she ever make you feel guilty for it. her transparency was equal parts confusing and refreshing. it made your friendship stronger, if anything. never crossing the line of touching too close or flirting too passionately. you two existed in a weird limbo– lara raj was somehow in love with you, openly so, and yet was so damn perfect she never made it big enough to affect your friendship.

(this is the part where you try to stop thinking about it before your head has a hard time making sense of it all… but… don’t you love her too?)

you step out of your dorm and spot an unfamiliar girl letting herself into your neighbor’s dorm. your neighbor, baby megan skiendiel’s dorm. you feel a rise of suspicion. chronically bitchless megan, as the trio calls her? maybe you’ll give her roomie danielle a heads up?

meg’s got someone over. she’s reaaaallly pretty

i appreciate you! ;-; best neighbour ever!

ofc <333

i think she mentioned something about a study partner?

you smile and step out of the building into the chilly night air. lara made it happen. you know megan would have been too nervous to ask for the support on her own, so it must have been with the guidance of the older girls that–

your phone buzzes. felix, again.

“i just barely got home and headed to dinner, like the second you called me,” you tell him quickly as you pick up, wanting to avoid another fight. you can feel yourself already breathless and anxious.

“why do you always talk to me like that? like i’m an idiot. i’m not an idiot, y/n. did it ever occur to you that your standards are just too unrealistic?” his voice is so cold, making your stomach turn as you keep walking towards the dining hall, trying to avoid letting your eyes water before you see someone you may know.

“i don’t think it’s that ridiculous. we’re long distance. we don’t have the easy things to fall back on,” you furrow your eyebrows, nearly disgusted.

but then he pauses, and you can hear him suck in a breath. your stomach drops at the way his tone changes.

“maybe we should think about that. if the distance is too hard.”

“what the fuck, felix?” you try not to make it a habit to swear, but the tears are already pricking at the corners of your eyes. you want to scream but everything stays trapped in your chest.

“you gave up forever ago,” he accuses you.

“you think so?” is all you can manage to ask. it’s moments like this where you admire someone as unhinged as daniela, who you’re sure could easily give him a piece of her mind, or yunjin, who won’t stand for even a whiff of disrespect.

or lara, you think, who’d know her worth enough to just hang up and move right on along.

you lose yourself in silence as felix unleashes a rant that feels much too pre-prepared to be brought on by simply missing his call. you feel your chest ache at the thought of everything changing for you. you don’t know how much time has passed before he realizes you haven’t said anything. you’ve always hated that about him. you’re naturally reserved, and it’s almost like he just assumes you have nothing to say.

he ends the call when he’s ready, with a “sorry it had to be like this, y/n,” and you’re too drained to fight him on it. you stop and sit on a nearby bench to wipe your face clean and send a quick rescue text to the only person you really want to talk to in that moment.

lara’s calling you less than 30 seconds after you hit send.

“lar, you’re in class, you didn’t have to call me,” you chastise her gently, but you know there’s no point.

“i know you said call you after class, but that’s such an sos, you never need anything so i know this has got to be the real deal,” she tells you.

“i just needed to get out of my head.”

“everything okay?” she asks tenderly.

“um, no. not really.” you take a deep breath and look up, trying to avoid the well of tears coming back up. “i think felix and i just broke up.”

“oh, fuck that guy. never liked him. i’m coming to get you in 5.”

perfect, always-knows-what-to-say lara raj does exactly that, tracking you by your location just a few minutes later, and insists you two go out to eat and tell her everything. it stings, but lara’s presence makes everything more bearable. maybe this isn’t the worst thing that could have come out of today.

you wake up in your dorm and feel the dull, anxious buzz in your stomach as you remember yesterday’s call. but spending the rest of the night with one of your favorite people had made it practically melt away, and by the time she had dropped you off, felix was far out of your mind.

you’re taking the breakup better than most would expect, but then again, you’ve also been called “the statue” by coach by how non-reactive you are.

what’s the point in losing your cool and letting others get the best of you? sure, your sister grew up walking all over you, but most of the time, it wasn’t worth it to get into it with her. you’ve been like this since you were little– you hoard your emotions, stoic through all hardships, too afraid to let people see you struggle and think any less of you. your dad’s always been such a worry wart, your step-mom is insanely judgemental, and your sister jordan gets everything she wants, never once having understood what it’s like to feel like a burden.

your sister, who you haven’t thought of all night. why would you? this breakup is about–

oh god. your very demanding, very aggressive, very engaged-to-be-married-in-two-weeks, sister.

your jaw nearly drops as you realize the extra layer of what your breakup means for you. your hands shake in panic.

breakfast with lara. you feel it anchor you, ever so slightly. there’s an idea that pops into your head that you barely let yourself contemplate before realizing if there’s anyone who could come to your rescue, it might be perfect, angel lara.

“you know i’d never ask anything of you, ever, right?” you start as the two of you sit down, setting your trays onto the table.

“yes, you’re too proud and too hardworking,” lara nods, grinning as you smack her shoulder.

“okay,” you breathe nervously, “well i am extremely embarrassed to ask you this, but my psychopath of a sister is getting married in two weeks and i already told her i was in a relationship, so if i show up alone, she’s never going to let me hear the end of it, ‘cause she planned for a specific seating arrangement and—”

oh my god, you realize you’re rambling. you try to pivot to what the bigger issue is.

“damn, okay, well let me just say that my my stepmom will be weird, my dad is gonna overreact and make me come back home, i won’t get to finish my program–”

oh my god, again you gasp at yourself. this is why the hell you don’t let yourself panic. you crack.

there’s a pause as you see lara digest all of it.

“parents love me,” lara finally grins. you let out the breath that had been stuck in your throat. you feel an immense gratitude that she isn’t pushing you to say it.

how could you possibly mutter the words out loud? will you be my fake date to this real wedding?

“i’m so sure yours did,” you roll your eyes, but you can’t help but laugh. she’s got the confidence of a child who was never told no.

“all parents,” she pushes back, poking you in the ribs.

“don’t get too cocky. it was between you, daniela, and meg, but meg gets nervous when someone even breathes next to her and dani is-”

“oh my god,” lara covers her mouth with her hand at the image in her head. “she’d be forcing your family members to drink shots out of her mouth and harassing the dj.”

you hold three fingers up, and fold them down as you go through the lineup of your options. “our infant daughter who can barely remember her own name, hot-headed attention whore with no boundaries, or charming and slightly overconfident sweetheart.”

“i’m going to pretend my competition wasn’t those two idiots and just tell myself i was the clear winner from the start.”

“i’ll owe you everything,” you tell her gently.

“i’m happy to do it.” she shakes her head, before a beaming grin. “you know it’s inevitable that we fall in love though, right?”

you laugh, but she reaches out to you, and your hands meet over the table. what a massive reassurance.

“lara i can’t stress enough how thankful i am, and how anxious over all of it i am.”

“i got this,” she reassures you, confident nod. “i’ve got you.”

“thank you,” you breathe quietly once more, and you feel your heart stir. you do trust her, with your whole heart actually, to make this work.

you’re supposed to be sleeping in when the blare of your phone ringing shocks you awake. again, grateful to live alone.

“ugh, jordy, it’s 6 in the damn morning,” you groan as you bring the phone to your ear. your sister has her own special ringtone, love by keyshia cole, her stupid go to karaoke song.

“y/n,” jordan drawls, and you roll your eyes as you remember she simply does not care about inconveniencing you. “my friend wants to know if you’ll let her third wheel you at the table. i’ve never met your boyfriend so i want to know he won’t be weird with her.”

you almost don’t remember what she’s talking about, until you feel your body tense. the damn wedding looming over your head.

the good thing about being notoriously private, you realize, is that you had kept your relationship entirely between the two of you. felix had hated how you never posted him, never let him tag you in anything, never let him meet your family or friends, simply told them “i’m seeing someone” once you had hit six months. you bite your tongue. maybe you could see why he’d be so frustrated… but you’ve always wanted to keep your business to yourself, and having someone associated to you for people to judge you off of would be entirely unfair to you.

“girlfriend,” you correct her quietly. as soon as the word comes out, you can’t hide from it any more. you and lara are committing to the charade.

“girlfriend?” she sounds surprised, but not annoyed. “okay, but she needs to wear my colors or i’ll kill her.”

you breathe a quiet laugh. at least jordan can always make things about herself. “i’ll make sure she knows.”

“anyways, my friend, she’s so cute, says she’s in your research methods class,” she pivots back to her initial ask. “i’ll tell her she can link up with you whenever. i’ll give her your instagram.”

before you can say anything, jordan hangs up unceremoniously. you furiously get dressed and brush your teeth, trying to rush to lara as soon as physically possible. this adds a kink to your plan.

you make it to her dorm in a few and punch in her keycode, letting yourself into her room quietly. you poke around to see if her roommates are home and if you’ll wake her, but luckily, the only person you see in the bed is her.

your heart thuds. perfect, sweet lara raj, slumbering like an angel, her lips parted slightly and her brows furrowed in her sleep.

“lar,” you gently hum, approaching with caution. “lar, it’s y/n.”

you had let yourself into her dorm after her insistence before, and as she stirs awake, a smile takes to her lips. “i was hoping it’d be you when i heard the door.”

“um, so, issue.” you whisper, kneeling by her bed as you play with her hair to help her wake up. “my sister basically wants a friend of her’s to hang out with us so she’s not uncomfortable at the wedding, but i have no clue who the friend is.”

lara rubs at her eyes sleepily, reaching for her phone as she looks up at you. “which means…”

“i’m really sorry.” the weight of this isn’t lost upon you. “is there any way we can be like, pretend exclusive for the next week and a half? if this girl sees you out with someone and texts my sister then it’s all pointless.”

“oh, so like, fully off the market?” lara arches an eyebrow.

“i know it’s a huge ask.”

there’s a heavy pause, and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you alive. what an embarrassing situation to force lara into. you’d fully understand if she’d push back.

but perfect, helpful lara raj simply grins up at you and shows you her phone, finger hovering over her dating apps folder as she deletes them one by one in front of you.

“i’ll delete my tinder right now.” she says easily. “not about to blow your cover.”

you let out a deep breath and swarm her in a hug. “lara, you’re a godsend.”

“not my first time hearing that,” she beams back at you.

you get a dm in that moment from a random photography instagram that had followed you later that morning. the profile picture is of a tree, giving you no hints about this girl’s identity.

peanutbutterlover02: hey <3 jordan said i could come crash you guys! are you busy today? maybe we can do dinner together?

you breathe shakily. your first test as a fake couple.

“let’s do it,” lara says confidently, and you realize she’s reading over your shoulder.

“if my asks ever get too weird, please, please say something.” you tell her firmly. “i don’t ever want you uncomfortable just to help me out. we can scale it back any time if the lines get blurry.”

“y/n, this is like a dream come true for me,” lara teases. “i’ll speak up if i need to, but don’t worry too much about me, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe shakily, and send a reply to this girl with a time and place.

you’re getting ready for the hang out after practice when lara texts you.

meg and dani found out we’re going to the makers market and want to come... maybe a small group will make her more comfortable?

our first exposure is a group thing?

if that’s okay?

won’t they be weird about us acting like that?

do you trust them to keep a secret?

you’re heading out the dorm but pause in your tracks. one massive factor you didn’t consider— the girl with no filter.

oh my god daniela

and that big mouth

i will beg her

no don’t do that, pretty girl. i’ll talk to her. she’ll always do it for the team.

lara always manages to find a way. you feel your chest loosen and keep walking, shooting a message to jordan’s friend before jumping back to lara.

my hero

;) we’ll be there in like 5

you spot the girl on the bench in front of the library, exactly where you agreed to meet up.

“hi!” she greets, pulling you in for a hug. “you’re jordy’s sister. i’m manon.”

“how do you know each other?” you ask curiously. jordan is a bitch, in every sense, and manon seems so… normal?

“jordy is my hair girl.” she smiles and taps at the intricate patterns along her scalp. “cleanest parts i have ever seen.”

“i’m y/n,” you smile, and let out a small breath before you commit fully to the act. no turning back now. “my girlfriend and her friends will be here super soon.”

as if on cue, you hear old justin bieber rnb blaring from an approaching vehicle, and recognize lara’s car right away.

“hi ladies,” lara beams from the window as she pulls up to the curb. you see the ginger hair and blonde curls in the back. “your uber is here.”

manon squeezes into the back, and you take the passengers seat. you suck in a breath. maybe you and lara should have practiced how to be, what to do, how to navigate this, especially in front of two of your closest friends. lara makes easy work of chatting up manon and keeping the conversation flowing until you guys get to the makers market, a bustling farmers market for art where they block off a whole street for vendors.

you’re too busy overthinking to notice megan and daniela’s widened eyes as lara snakes an arm around your waist as you all start walking. your skin tenses at the contact.

lara, confident, unshakable lara, does it as if you’ve been hers for years. this might not be a mission destined for failure after all.

manon is extremely sweet and undeniably hilarious. the evening goes on without a hitch (maybe besides dani trying to race megan to see who can eat their korean corn dog faster causing both of them to choke) but even the small hiccups are nothing compared to how natural lara is at making this so convincing. she’s touching you at every opportunity, taking pictures of you each time you turn back to look at her, buying every thing you even look at. you know it’s all for show, but you can’t help but think of how easy she makes it seem. if felix was this competent, he’d be the one you’d want here right now, but lara does all the things you begged him to do, without having to be asked.

you guys are back on campus before 9pm, but you’re having too much fun. you spend a lot of time buried in anatomy textbooks or watching orthopedic surgeries, and tonight, you just want to enjoy it with your friends.

“we can go back to my room,” you offer to the group as you guys wander out of the parking garage. “i have a single.”

the group agrees, and the five of you make it to your dorm in just a few minutes walking. lara’s hand snakes into yours, and you feel your spine tingle.

“do you guys smoke?” manon raises her brows hopefully, holding up her bag. you guide them all up the stairs of the building and into your room, plugging in your twinkle lights.

“fuck yeah,” dani beams.

“aren’t we getting drug tested this week?” megan asks worriedly.

“next week, kiddo,” lara rubs the top of her head playfully. “and we’ll just skip you. no pressure.”

manon takes a pre-roll out of the hand-painted altoid tin in her purse and you head over to crack the window. in just a few minutes, you’re all laughing on the floor of your room, nodding along to music playing from your speaker, passing the joint around amongst the group.

“why didn’t they give you captain?” you ask lara. “you’re such a good role model. minus the recreational drug use and flirting with everyone you know.”

“they wanted to, actually. did you know that?” megan says, a bright grin on her lips.

“you said no?” you ask in surprise. lara is staring at the ground, thumb rubbing along the bottom of your braids.

“i didn’t want it.” she shrugs calmly, taking another inhale. “i like hockey, i just like other things too. can’t make it my whole life, duh.”

“plus, she doesn’t have the same face i do for interviews,” dani butts in, flexing dramatically. “cameras love the curls + dimple combo.”

manon snorts, and you and lara exchange smiles. you won’t talk about how comfortable it feels to have lara leaning against your shoulder, playing with your hair, the proximity of her washing a wave of comfort over you.

“hey do you guys think i have negative aura just ‘cause i didn’t smoke?” megan asks, nose wrinkling as she watches you guys hand the joint amongst yourselves.

“no. you’re bitchless because you’re scared of your own shadow,” daniela quickly answers, and megan’s face drops.

“bro, i can totally pull.”

“i see no bitches,” dani claps back. “all you do is text that tutor of yours. get her to at least show you a titty or something, come on.”

the four of you laugh in tandem as megan glares at the blonde.

“don’t talk about my tutor like that.”

“a boundary, from the baby?” lara all but cries, beaming so brightly you feel like she might fall over. “baby’s first boundary! get the camera!”

megan rolls her eyes and waves her off. you guys talk and talk into a random hour of the night, enjoying the calm of getting to know someone new and change up the routine just a bit. this yap session is a welcome change of pace, and you’ve never enjoyed yourself more than listening to dani debate with anyone who disagrees with her, watching megan push back weakly, manon simply laugh at everything, and lara reel it in when it gets too crazy while still adding fuel to the fire. you could stay like this forever, you think to yourself.

“it’s so late,” you realize as you finally look at your phone for the first time all night. “you guys can stay so you don’t have to walk back when it’s so dark.”

“i live next door,” megan tells manon, excusing herself. “this was fun.”

“we should totally do it again, thank you guys for being so fun,” manon smiles, before assessing your room. you have your bed, the extra bed, and a wide space between the two beds in the middle of the dorm. “if it’s okay to stay, i can totally sleep on the floor with no issue.”

“no way, you’re the guest,” you insist, reaching under your bed to locate your extra blankets. manon and dani start cleaning up the ash tray and trying to air out your room.

your brain runs through the possible combinations. manon on the floor, jordan finds out and kills you. dani on the floor, she’ll complain all night. you guys could figure out sharing beds, manon and dani could—

your eyes widen, and as if she’s thinking about the exact same combination, lara’s panicked gaze meets you at the exact same time.

“no fucking chance,” lara whispers. “the animal needs her own bed."

the only viable solution makes itself painfully clear as you shrug and whisper back to lara. “we could sleep on the floor.”

“perfect. always with the plans,” she beams back happily. lara directs the two, gesturing to the separate beds. “you’ll be here, and you’ll be here.”

“i can’t do that to you,” manon frowns, seeing you set up the pillow and blanket on the carpeted floor.

“it’s too small for us to both fit. we’re happier like this anyways,” lara insists, and it’s enough for manon to offer a smile of gratitude. everyone gets into their assigned spots, the smell of incense and the buzz of your fan lulling you into drowsiness after lara turns off your lights.

“good night manon, thanks for hanging out with us,” you tell her, happy to have made a new friend.

“say good night to me,” daniela pouts.

“you’re the reason we can’t make normal friends,” lara snips back.

manon laughs. “i love you guys already.”

“good night,” lara whispers in your ear as she arranges herself besides you, pressing a kiss into your hair. the feeling is so foreign coming from her, and yet you feel your body seek her out as you press back into her hug.

you close your eyes and let her pull you close. you know there’s an end in sight, but maybe you’ll let yourself pretend it could be longer.

the next morning, everyone disperses to their own dorms before the day starts. you make it through your classes though it’s a struggle with the lack of sleep. by the time you come out of your final class of the day, ready to head towards the ice rink to prepare for the girls’ practice, a familiar figure is standing outside your classroom, leaning against the wall. her eyes light up as she spots you.

“what are you doing?” you ask, seeing her practice bag slung over her shoulder.

“we date, so i walk you to practice,” she says simply, reaching out for you. “duh.”

you remember that her last class of the day ended over an hour ago, meaning she must have waited for you. you shake your head in surprise. “your class is closer to the stadium.”

“i’d rather walk with you,” she says back easily. perfect, charming lara raj, always ready to push back against your excuses.

“there’s no need to be that public,” you respond. ugh, why can’t you just accept the gesture. she wants to make your life so easy and yet something in you can’t accept the generosity.

“what if manon sees us and is wondering why we don’t seem loved up?” lara challenges you. “i’d hate to have her tell your sister we’re fighting.”

“more people might ask questions,” you whisper nervously.

“let them.” she smiles, forever a beacon of confidence. “not their business.”

you’re running out of reasons to push her away. “coach?”

“we can tell him it’s new. who’s he gonna tell?”

she takes your hand in hers, and you let her, wishing you had let her a long, long time ago.

it becomes way too easy to go through these motions with lara. when you’re alone, she’s respectful, never needing to make any advances that don’t suit the moment, allowing your friendship to still be anchored in some normalcy. the touches are intimate but never suggestive, the compliments are tender but never too intense, and she’s only ever kissed you on the head or on the hand.

but you start to struggle when you’re alone, craving her closeness but confused as to why you’d want that if it’s just the two of you. you think about the timeline of this insanely busy week. tomorrow, the pre-game party. day after, the championship game, and the day after that, you fly in the morning to make it to the wedding by the evening. your facade is coming to an end, and you know you guys should figure out what the story will be as to why you’ll inevitably “break up,” but each time you guys hang out late at night with manon, all you can focus on is immersing yourself in the experience.

you’re all laying on the floor of your dorm, smoking dani’s weed this time (megan as the exception, too nervous to risk it the week of such an important game) and chatting mindlessly. manon won’t be able to make it to tomorrow’s party, so you guys all make it a point to have another of your yap sessions in your room.

“with the exception of the obvious happy couple,” manon starts her question, staring up at the ceiling. “have you guys ever been in love before?”

“no.” megan’s nose wrinkles. “i just barely started kissing people.”

“a few times,” lara confesses, calmly. she had mentioned a few of her relationships back when you guys were just friends, a few flings you noticed her get caught up in. you never minded, lara was never ever supposed to hold back just because she had admitted to liking you, but you couldn’t help but wonder about these girls every time you noticed her get into something new. “maybe three. i’m not in the business of denying my feelings.”

“which one was the deepest?” manon asks curiously.

lara pauses, contemplating. you don’t expect anything from her. in 48 hours, she won’t owe you anything. but yet, perfect, angelic lara, always manages to catch you off guard.

“this one,” she says, and you can’t tear your eyes away from her. her confession rattles through your chest. “it’s like a dream, but i know it’s a dream, and i’m trying to enjoy it as much as i could before i have to wake up.”

you feel your pulse in your neck. manon and megan both turn to look at you. any other time, you’d avoid the question and leave it there– sure, you had liked felix, enough to stay with him all that time, but there was never anything about him that rattled you, that unnerved you and comforted you all at once. had you ever even really liked him in the first place? had you admired, respected, felt seen by him?

(had you ever once loved him, even half as much as you love lara raj?)

you let out a shaky breath. maybe you can be brave enough to say it out loud, just this time, let yourself pretend before it’s all over.

“once,” you finally admit. lara’s eyes come to meet yours.

“yeah?”

“perfect girl is easy to love,” you tell her simply. your chest warms and she brings her nose to rest against the tip of yours.

“once, for me too,” dani says, staring blankly at the ceiling. the admission surprises you, and you can tell lara and megan seem just as caught off guard. daniela lets out a quiet breath. “just once.”

“what happened?” you pry gently.

daniela laughs, and it’s the first time in the two years you’ve known her that you’ve ever heard her with a hint of something more in her voice. “it fucking hurt. i didn’t ever want to go through that again.”

“should i be scared?” megan asks, brows furrowing in concern.

“no,” daniela says quickly, waving her off. “i’m a lightning strike. being in love is so, so beautiful.”

“how do you know when it happens?” the ginger asks, voice gentle.

“you just know,” manon says simply.

megan pauses for a beat, before letting out a quiet breath. “i want to change my answer.”

“oh?” you ask.

“tutor girl?” lara arches a brow, turning away from you to peer over at the youngest girl.

“she’s so easy to like. she’s so, so smart, and so nice to me, even when she’s being playful, she’s doing it to make me laugh. she believes in me, through everything. every time i’m around her i just feel like i don’t have to be anyone but myself, whoever i am that day. i’ll call her when i’m on the road, and it makes me feel better.” megan doesn’t usually have this much to say about anything, and it warms you to hear her go on and on like this. she looks down at her hands, playing with her fingernails. “i invited her to the party tomorrow, and it sucks ‘cause i know i’ve got no fucking chance.”

“i think you’re really brave for letting yourself dive in. sometimes it just feels to say it out loud, even if nothing comes from it,” manon tells her, smiling in encouragement.

“i think i’m in love,” megan whispers quietly.

gentle snores are heard from the corner. you all peek over to see dani peacefully slumbering from her spot on the floor.

“leave her there,” lara laughs. “we’ll deal with her complaints in the morning.”

“can i stay here tonight?” megan asks, grimacing. “i can’t tell if my stomach hurts because of the party, the game, or the fact that i’m super down bad.”

“always,” you offer a nod of reassurance.

manon and megan shuffle in to fit into the other bed, and lara joins you in yours. dani’s quiet snores are somehow extremely comforting.

“thanks for letting me talk about it, guys,” megan thanks you quietly. manon smiles and the two turn back-to-back in the bed.

lara’s eyes are warm, still fixed on yours as you face each other in the tight squeeze into your twin bed. you close your eyes and curl up, lara resting her chin on the top of your head as she hugs you from the front. you feel your entire body melt into her.

her voice is gentle, and infinitely tender as she murmurs into your hair.

“y/n y/ln, i’m in love with you.”

“ugh. i want that,” manon groans from the bed.

you don’t open your eyes. lara’s voice lingers in your ears. what a beautiful song to fall asleep to.

the party the next day is 10x as insane as the girls initially told you it would be. bodies everywhere, volume threatening to split your eardrums. jordan has tried to call you at least twice to make final arrangements before her wedding in two days, but each time you try to find an empty room, you’ve found either yunjin and her girlfriend making out, a random group snorting something off a table, or a screaming couple in the middle of a fight. you make your way back downstairs and decide your sister can wait.

besides, it’s one of your last times getting to play house with lara. perfect and confident lara, who lights up as soon as she spots you coming back downstairs, handing you back the drink she had so dutifully been watching over.

“watch watch watch,” lara pulls you in, motioning over to the corner. “i think the baby is trying to make a move.”

you see your favorite awkward ginger and a cute little sorority girl in the corner of the room, trying to speak over the pounding loud music. you instantly recognize the body language between the two of them.

“uh, wrong. that girl is trying to make a move, and megan is in fight or flight.” you laugh, taking a sip from your drink. “except she’s doing neither, and instead she’s freezing.”

“okay, whatever, no more national geographic. let’s go get drunk,” lara grins devilishly, snaking an arm around your waist before she pulls you over towards a circle where daniela is holding some frat boy friend of hers hostage and getting him to drive the boat as she screams in laughter.

you’re still worried about baby megan though, until you see the familiar figure of her tutor slipping out the door, the ginger following soon after. you give them a few moments but they don’t come back in together. either megan will have a lot to share tomorrow morning, or you’ll have a lot for lara to ask about.

daniela comes around to everyone in the circle, pouring shots out into each of their mouths from the bottle of hennessy she’s got gripped. you laugh at the antics of the team captain. lara pulls you closer and you’re transfixed by the smell of her perfume, the softness of her hair on your bare shoulders as she anchors you close to her to dance.

you don’t mind getting lost in her, maybe this once.

you’re not sure how much time has passed of you two dancing, locked in your own little world, before dani is pouring shots out again, clearly trying to get rid of whatever of the bottle is left.

“where’s the baby?” dani asks as she gets to lara, pouring the shot and assessing the room around her.

“i saw her going outside like a half hour ago. hasn’t come back,” you inform her.

lara swallows down the shot and makes quick work of pulling out her phone, never once letting go of your waist. “it looks like she’s walking back from campus.”

you do the math. 20 minute walk to campus, she left 30 mins ago and is already heading back to you guys. 10 minutes with tutor girl? maybe you won’t ask her about what she got up to tonight or why she was gone. you guys chat a little longer before the ginger in question pops back in through the door, making her way to you guys with a frazzled expression.

“hi puppy dog,” lara welcomes her back, teasing grin on her face. “how was it?”

megan shakes her head, clearly disoriented. “i don’t even know any more.”

“i know how to fix it,” daniela reassures her, before dragging out a table in the middle of the circle you guys are in and dragging a few randoms to surround it. she lifts up the empty hennessy bottle before placing it on its side flat on the table. she cheers, stealing a cup from the girl next to her and downing its contents in one easy go. “spin that fuckin’ bottle, baby!”

lara laughs and holds her cup up to yours. your buzz has already set in, and you want to be coherent to get you all home that night, but one quick knock back won’t kill you. you grimace as you tap cups with her but swallow it down. daniela grins and cheers' her own cup against megan’s forehead (much to the younger girl’s displeasure) before screaming loudly about how the game is about to start.

lara is laughing along with you at dani’s antics. “she gives the hockey players such a bad fucking rep.”

for a split second, you second guess not inviting daniela to the wedding– if all went south, dani would know exactly how to create an incredible distraction as you ran away.

but instead, you have to be brave and face it head on.

with lara, you remember, and your chest loosens at the thought. you’re grateful it gets to be with her at your side.

“hanni pham, meet baby megs,” daniela beams, and you realize the bottle is pointing directly at your adopted ginger daughter. lara can’t stop laughing, and you get it– megan looks like she’s about to shit herself.

hanni, a cheerleader who you met in your communications class, seems to love the hollering of the circle as she struts over and plants a quick peck on the corner of megan’s mouth. dani is screaming at the top of her lungs for her to do more, but megan’s strong hands keep a polite placement on her shoulders to distance the two of them.

“thank you, um for that, but i’m good for the night,” the ginger wrinkles her nose sheepishly. “gonna go wait in the car.”

“another boundary,” lara emphasizes, turning to you, and the both of you laugh.

“our baby girl is so, so grown up,” you fake-cry, slipping a hand into the furthest pocket of her jacket. she pulls you in closer and the two of you realize each time you say something to each other, you miss what happens in the outside world. how beautiful to get to disappear away from it all with just a look.

the group is staring expectantly at you as you realize daniela’s on the couch, the swedish exchange student from your calculus class perched comfortably on her lap, the two of them oblivious to the world through their frenzied make out. you were next in line, thus it now being your turn.

you comply nervously, terrified to get paired with some gross stranger, but lara, perfect, confident lara, off one too many shots, reaches down to stop it with her thumb, causing it to land on her. you hear some groans, but a majority of the people in the group cheer you on, chanting your name as lara turns to face you, not once letting go of her grip on you.

your throat goes dry at the look she gives you. her dark eyes twinkling, her beautiful rich skin, shining from the heat of the party and the alcohol running through both of your veins.

“come here baby,” she beckons, smiling widely at you, bringing the hand not on your waist up to your neck. your skin tingles at the contact. “been wanting to kiss you all night, you’re so pretty.”

you have two choices: push back and make an excuse, or commit. and with all the bravery in the world, the bravery that perfect lara raj gives you, you’re able to push past the what-if’s and let yourself crash into her.

the kiss, tasting softly of lara’s gum and the drinks you’ve shared, is electrifying. you’ve never once allowed yourself to wander that far into imagining what kissing lara would be like, and you’re almost grateful. nothing could compare to how perfect kissing perfect, incredible lara raj would be. she’s confident and assertive, letting her tongue brush against your lower lip, your mind going absolutely blank as she tightens her grip on your waist.

“how was that?” she asks with a grin, and the rest of the world is lost to you guys once more.

“how do you think it was?” you ask back breathlessly, unable to form words beyond that.

“perfect,” she whispers, the smile she has threatening to split her mouth.

“okay,” you breathe. you can still feel the tingle of her lips on yours.

you don’t mention it once the hour is late and megan is dragging a half-slumped daniela into the car with you guys while lara offers a ride to meg’s crush’s little roommates. you don’t say a word about it as lara drops belle and minji off, then presses a kiss to your temple when she drops you and megan off at your building, insisting she can keep daniela in her room to keep an eye on her. you fall back into your bed after a quick shower, the feeling still lingering.

the end is near, and you know it. you decide you won’t think about it, and fall asleep.

you wake up to a knock on the door. you rise with a slight headache, letting out a quiet groan, before you peek out the peephole and recognize a flash of bright orange hair.

“can you help me?” megan asks fervently as you let her in. she holds up various materials: paper, pens, an envelope, and a bright red ticket. “i want to make something for someone, but i feel so fucking lost as to where to start.”

“you want to invite her to the game tonight?” you ask, connecting the dots.

“yes,” her eyes light up. “i’m giving her my spare ticket. front row, so she can see us.”

“the one you think you’re in love with?” you smile, loving the enthusiasm.

“i think i want to say something, or at least try.” megan nods, confidently for the first time since you’ve known her, and drops her voice into a sigh. “you don’t know how special it is to feel seen for yourself.”

“oh, i do,” you breathe, memories of the past two weeks taking over your head. you rub a reassuring circle into her back as she parks herself at your desk. you head over to the bathroom to take down your hair and start your morning routine. “say what you feel. i’ll stay with you if you’re nervous.”

“your sister’s wedding is tomorrow, right?” megan clarifies, looking up from the desk. “what happens after that? between you and lar.”

you feel a pang in your stomach. 24 hours left in your little charade, and now, you don’t know how to untangle everything you’ve intertwined with her. you feel your smile threaten to fall, but you try to put on a brave front for the concerned younger girl. “don’t worry about that. focus on you.”

“i don’t think you should end it so fast,” she responds, her eyes softening. you hate the way her puppy dog eyes pierce straight into your heart. “you guys have something really amazing there.”

“it’s not real,” you remind her.

“looks pretty real to me,” she tells you back simply, and it lingers with you. you shake it off and approach her to start braiding her hair for the game.

lara has to do follow-up interviews with dani and the team following their championship win, and she promises to make it on the first flight out to your hometown. you’re kind of grateful she misses the rehearsal dinner, since manon does nothing but gush about how beautifully in love you and lara is and how she’s certain you guys will be doing this in no time. jordan, suspicious of you until manon opens her mouth, simply presses a kiss into your temple.

“happy you’re happy, sis. maybe the quiet ones do win every once in a while.”

lara stays at a hotel instead of with you and your parents in order to give you guys somewhere to drop the act. you find it increasingly difficult to remember what it used to be like before the touches, before the embraces, before falling asleep together every night.

she looks so beautiful in her incredible dress and your dad can’t stop gushing over what a peach she is. your step-mom, who never approves of anything you do, doesn’t look completely unimpressed by the gorgeous date you’re seated with. you’ll take it as a win.

the ceremony goes off without a hitch, and you make it to the reception dinner in one piece. halfway through the night without incident is a huge win. and lara, perfect, charming lara, is making friends with every person she introduces herself to, a cheeky compliment for every aunt of yours in their sunday best or every cousin asking suspiciously if you’re actually together. she finds the perfect balance of affection, not too much to be overdoing it, but just enough to keep you feeling calmed throughout the night.

“you play hockey with y/n?” your stepmom asks as she and your dad join you at the table with lara and manon as you all eat. you bite back a groan, considering you’ve explained a million times that you don’t play, just help treat the players.

“i play goalie, yes,” lara smiles good-naturedly. “y/n basically is there to patch us up after every game. contact sports can take quite the toll on the body.”

“what do you want to do with hockey?” your dad asks curiously. you can see your sister and your new brother-in-law dancing like idiots behind him on the dancefloor and let out a content sigh. somehow, lara is carrying herself without a single bit of help needed, and it soothes your anxious nerves.

“reminisce about it fondly when i’m old and grey,” lara laughs. “i just finished this sophomore season, so i’ve got two more seasons playing collegiate, and that’s it for me and hockey. after i graduate, i’m going to do a fellowship with a clinic.”

“physical therapy, like y/n?” manon asks curiously.

“marriage and family therapy. i want to be a therapist. i would love to work with student athletes.”

“no way,” you breathe quietly. how has lara never mentioned this? she had started school as a business major.

“my friends have a hard time balancing school and sports and some of them are really hurting over it. i’ve always been lucky enough to have good grades.”

“nobody should ever have to pick something they love over their wellbeing,” your step-mom says to no-one in particular, and you swear there’s something like approval in her eyes.

“lara is an extremely nurturing person,” you tell your dad in particular. “i think she’ll make a huge impact in whatever she does.”

“well, miss raj, i hope y/n doesn’t hide you away from us any more. i’d love to see you around more often,” he smiles, and you two exchange a glance.

“that’s up to y/n, isn’t it?” she asks, something twinkling in her eyes.

“i’m certainly thinking about it,” you smile back. the night is won.

you come back with her to her hotel room so you can celebrate the victory in peace, without worrying about your family overhearing.

“did i kill it, or did i destroy it?” she beams excitedly, kicking her heels off as she swipes one of the shots from the minibar in the fridge. “that went so fucking smooth.”

“you were perfect.” you could cry. perfect, angelic lara raj, making the impossible happen. a weight is lifted off your shoulders.

“i told you parents really like me,” she beams brightly, swooping you up in both arms to snake her arms around your waist and pull you in to a hug.

“everyone really likes you,” you laugh, pushing her back, but her arms stay locked around you. you could push again, but you don’t want to.

she’s never held you like this, behind closed doors. you don’t know what possesses you to let her. memories of your kiss from spin the bottle race through your mind. you feel your mouth go dry as you realize what your body is seeking– it wants to kiss her again.

“all that matters is what you think about me,” she tells you.

you simply hum in response, feeling her hands trace lower on your hips.

“hey, y/n,” she whispers into your ear, the warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. “remember how when this all started, you wanted me to tell you if things ever got too blurry?”

you nod, your words caught in your throat. you barely manage to get anything out. “it’s over now, don’t worry.”

“that’s the issue. it’s supposed to be over, but…” she trails off, her fingers tracing circles into your back. she looks away, but you feel a sudden wave of bravery take over you, and you reach around her neck to trace gentle lines into her nape. her eyes come back to you, dark and hooded.

“tell me,” you press gently, and the room feels like it might collapse in on you both.

“lines are a little blurry,” lara breathes.

“i think i’m okay with that, if you are,” you whisper back.

“you already know what i think,” lara says, almost as an accusation. but then she’s reaching for the zipper on the back of your dress, eyes flickering to you as if to ask for permission.

you push past your own thoughts and let yourself capture her lips with your own, an answer to her question. you won’t overthink it, not this time.

you wake to an empty bed, the smell of lara’s skin still lingering on the sheets. you inhale deeply as you try to hear for the shower in the bathroom, maybe her voice if she’s in the hallway on the phone. but as you hear nothing, you sit up, and realize lara’s belongings are all completely gone. she left without letting you know? after all that? you can’t wrap your head around a viable explanation, so you reach for your phone. among the texts from your friends and family, you see lara’s contact, a text from 30 minutes ago.

changed my flight. i added late check out so don’t worry about overstaying. we can talk when you’re back on campus. be safe.

you see the next notification.

6 missed calls.

all from felix.

you feel your heart sink. lara has always been a light sleeper, first to rise at the slightest noise. you can only imagine what she must’ve felt seeing his contact pop up over and over, so insistently, as if he’s even entitled to your attention any more. your heart aches at the thought of lara’s confusion.

(that’s not to even touch on your own confusion– where does all this leave the two of you?)

you call her immediately.

“lara,” you say, and it’s like a warning and a question all in one. “i haven’t talked to him since the breakup. i don’t know what he wants, and i don’t care.”

the line is silent for a moment, and you’re caught off guard. you can hear the airport PA system from behind her, but you’re more surprised at how quiet she is. lara, confident and forward, always has something thoughtful and ready to say, forever the model of composure. she finally lets something out, and you feel your heart break all over again.

“i know you, y/n, and i wasn’t ready to hear you tell me it was over.” she confesses, and her voice sounds so, so painful over the phone. you wish you could wrap her in your arms then and there. “i got lost in it, i know i did, maybe it was selfish because you just got out of something serious, and i wanted you to myself.”

“lar, i’m sorry. what are you thinking right now?” you ask, but you quickly realize it’s the wrong question. her tone changes quickly, faster now, almost insistent.

“no, y/n, please stop. you do this thing, where you won’t give a clear answer. you’ll just ask questions and put all the options out on the table and let people draw their own conclusions.”

“here’s my clear answer,” lara continues. “you are my favorite person on this planet, and i’m so serious about that. so i want to hear it from your mouth. i want to hear what you pick, no bullshit, no yielding to let me make the final choice. with a super clear head, i want you to pick me, or not pick me, knowing all the facts and hearing me say it first. you need to have the final say in something for your life.”

you’re in complete shock, staring into the mirror as she presses forward, her voice firm over the hum of the phone.

“i won’t hate you, if you don’t pick me,” she tells you, voice softening, always the reassuring one. “but i wanted to make sure you knew that i’d pick you if it came down to it, and i’ll be waiting patiently for you to pick me. just how i always have.”

“lar…”

“think about it,” is all she says, before the line goes dead, and you’re left alone with your thoughts.

the airport makes you sick to your stomach and all you want to do is just talk to lara, but you know she deserves more thought than just your anxious impulse. a clear head, and no hesitation. you owe it to lara.

a day of traveling later, and you’ve dragged your bags with you to the hockey rink. megan, yunjin, and dani are all there, taking practice shots into the net even though the season won’t start up again until the fall time.

you see lara’s gear on the bench, but she’s nowhere on the ice to be seen. you hunt a little further to see her in the very top nosebleed seats of the stadium, watching the three practice intensely. you don’t hesitate before racing up the seats, and your stomach drops as she locks eyes on you. her eyes are distant, cold even, but you can’t blame her. she deserves answers.

“i need to tell you something,” you press, sitting down in the seat next to her.

she lets out a quiet breath and turns to face you. you reach out, holding her face in your hands, and your heart aches. she is so impossibly perfect. the truth, as much as it terrifies you, is the least she deserves.

“that night, our kiss, the past two weeks, it meant everything to me,” you admit, your voice shaky. “maybe i’m worried that i’ll lose you as a friend, if we take this leap, but we tried on these hats and it was honestly the most perfect experience ever. and you are so, so perfect, it would be impossible to not want to be with you, and i’m sorry i was such a coward about what i asked of you without acknowledging what it meant for us. it was unfair and it was confusing.”

her eyes warm, but you drop your hands. you have something more to add, the part she truly does deserve, and the part you’ve been too afraid to confront. you continue, your heart threatening to leap out of your chest.

“i need to choose myself, for just a little bit. i’m not going to ask if that’s okay, because i know you’d tell me it is even if it isn’t,” you tell her, and she laughs quietly in response. you take it as the encouragement you need to keep going. “i'm going to be alone for a little bit, i won’t go back to my ex, i won’t find someone new, i just need to be alone to figure some things out, and i’m going to tell you to go do your thing and not wait up for me. if we can be friends through it, that would be amazing, but if not, i won’t hate you either.”

you drop your head slightly to meet her gaze. she’s looking up at you with something in between heartache and pride, and you know exactly how she feels. there’s something painfully bittersweet about the moment.

“i need just a little time to learn how to be a better me, and then it’ll be my turn to come ask you to pick me,” you whisper, tracing your finger across her lips, your favorite lips, before resting your hand on her cheek once more. “and i’ll be okay if you don’t pick me, or if by then you’ve picked someone else.”

“i’m proud of you for this,” she says simply, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you into a hug.

you feel hot tears pricking at your eyes, but you manage to smile at her anyways. the end of one chapter, the start of another, you can only hope.

your dad has asked about lara every single time you call for the past few months, and you simply navigate around the question with expert precision. you can’t tell him everything, but you can tell him parts of the truth.

we get to see each other every day. we’re still the team moms. daniela still conspires to make us get married. we’re going to see each other over the summer once the semester ends.

you won’t tell him about how your sleepovers have stopped, and you guys haven’t been alone together in a room since the day after the wedding. she’s still so, so nice to you, but there’s a boundary now.

it’s not awkward, as much as you know things could have ended in disaster. perfect, generous lara raj, who’s always put your friendship ahead of whatever feelings have come up for her, doesn’t flirt with you any more, but still makes an effort to make you feel seen.

manon, who you got so close to that she moved in as your dorm roommate, is shockingly understanding as you come clean and tell her everything. nobody makes the dissolution of your fake relationship weird, and your family is none the wiser. you come out relatively unscathed from the whole thing, the only casualty being you and lara. your friendship is different, you guys aren’t as close, but that’s okay, because she’s still in your life, and that in itself is more than enough.

except for tonight, two weeks before finals, where you decide it’s the night to put into practice all the growing you’ve done to stop being so scared of the what-if’s. it’s your turn to be confident and brave, and let the potential win outweigh the risks.

you feel your stomach lurch as you call her, the starting part of your plan. you guys don’t do this any more, the late night phone calls, so you’re half expecting to have to pivot to a plan b, but she answers by the second ring.

“y/n,” she says simply, and you feel your stomach flip at how genuinely excited she sounds. what an angel.

“hi,” you breathe. “um, just curious about your plans tonight.”

“what’s up?” she asks, half-curious, half-suspicious in her tone.

“are you free?” you ask again.

“for you?” she asks, and you half-expect her to turn you down then and there. but she doesn’t and her soft tone makes your heart thud. “always.”

“no, don’t start,” you wrinkle your nose. “i’m supposed to be the one trying to charm you.”

“charm me? why?” she asks, and you can practically hear the smirk on her lips. ugh, it was almost easier when you guys were back to being just friends. you wouldn’t get this flustered this easily.

“i want to see you when i say it.” you shake your head, feeling the familiar flush that lara leaves you with. “damn, you’re throwing me off. ugh, lara, okay just, come to your car.”

“my car?”

“i have your keys, before you freak out. dani helped me. so just come to the car and be patient.”

you hang up, and you wait eagerly. grand gestures aren’t your thing, but they’re lara’s, so you figure she deserves something that reflects how well you know her.

she arrives, and you can’t suppress your smile as she takes it all in. her car, filled to the brim with pink balloons, three different bouquets of flowers in the passenger’s seat. you’ve decorated it with pictures of the two of you from your years of friendship, including countless of candids taken by the girls of the two of you together. on the dashboard, you have a giant, handwritten sign with pictures of lara’s face, and in big bold letters: #17, GO OUT WITH ME?

her eyes are wide, and you wonder if you’ve maybe gone too far with everything. in the months since the wedding, you guys have stayed friends, sure, but maybe you misread her? maybe this wasn’t the grand gesture you thought it would be?

“y/n…” lara starts, before offering you an apologetic furrow of her brows. “i have a girlfriend.”

you feel your stomach sink. you’ve deleted your instagram since all this happened, and you and lara don’t talk about those kinds of things any more, plus megan was so heartbroken about you guys not ending up together, it’s super possible she didn’t want to mention the new relationship to you. plus plus, daniela’s terrible with secrets, so why would she help you with this whole thing in the first place, but she can absolutely show up when she needs to– damn. your shot disappears in front of your very eyes.

“oh my god, lar, i’m so sorry. i um–” you stammer.

she’s staring at you with those dark eyes, before a stupid grin takes over her stern features. “hah! see, told you you should have jumped on me sooner.”

you feel your eyes nearly bug out of your head. oh my god.

“what do you think i’m going to say to you right now?” you nearly growl, your heart still pounding at the near miss.

lara screams laughing, nearly doubling over as she pokes a finger into your cheek. your skin jumps at the contact. “hopefully you’ll say, kiss me and be mine, no more waiting.”

you sigh and take her face in both hands, emboldened by your new outlook on life. no more being afraid.

“lara raj, i’m sorry for making you wait. thank you for being so, so perfect, and letting me be ready for you. i’d like to love you for a really long time, if that’s–” you pause, realizing you were about to ask for her permission.

you clear your throat and look her directly in the eyes. “you better let me love you until the earth blows up.”

“i like that so much better than what i thought you’d up with,” she beams brightly, opening the door to he car and sitting in the drivers seat, motioning for you to come towards her.

“i bet you do,” you laugh, letting her pull you into her lap.

“told you we’d fall in love eventually,” she grins cheekily.

you sigh and press a fingertip against her nose. “actually, i was in love with you way before all this. just needed to figure some things out.”

for the first time since you’ve known her, lara raj is speechless.

“got your fine ass,” you grin, before you lean in. “now that you’ve shut up, i’m going to kiss you.”

“you were so, so worth the wait,” she whispers, and you let yourself believe her. the girl of your dreams, perfect and confident lara raj, and she’s finally yours.

#lara raj x reader #lara raj #katseye x reader #lara raj imagine #lara x reader #katseye #katseye lara

506 notes · View notes

lolsmiley · 6 months ago

Text

┈─★ 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ( 𝘀𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 — 𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙤. )

⊹ ࣪ ˖ your professor contacts you to ask if you’d be willing to share your notes with a classmate that has requested a bit of help. you’re more than happy to help, until resident hockey star megan skeindiel is hitting you up every week, expectantly waiting for you to hand them over...

ˎˊ˗ ❄️ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 🔓୭˚. ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

➴ pairing: hockey player! megan skiendiel x english major!f!reader

➴ genre + wc: 10k, college au! one-sided enemies to friends, friends to lovers, dorky hockey jock megan, mostly fluff tbh

➴ you might want to tune in...: ditto - njz

┈─★ a/n: wigline was giving boyfriend in that livestream and i was trying to decide what sport before i was struck w the idea of megan and her beanie bros as wanna-be-frat-boy hockey stars. planning on making this part of a larger universe, goalie!lara and captain!dani coming next. enjoy!

eng121: intro to british literature. meets tuesday and thursday from 11:00 to 12:15.

you’re always a few minutes early, an easy walk considering your world history lecture is just upstairs. you’ve always been punctual, thus why you’re first to class every time. it’s definitely not so you can get a front row seat in the lecture hall to make a good impression on your favorite professor teaching your favorite subject.

the lecture hall starts to slowly trickle in. you don’t know anyone in this class, which is okay– you’re there to focus anyways, and given that your grade is an impeccable 98% by the end of week 5, you figure you’re doing something right. of course, minji and belle would say you’re doing way too much, every late night study session you pick instead of joining them for another party celebrating the hockey team–

your mind trails to thoughts of that damn women’s hockey team. they’re loud, they’re arrogant, and worst of all, they’re everywhere.

you hope they’re gone on an away game today. it’s so much easier to focus when they’re not there.

but unfortunately, you’re not that lucky. the idiots come bursting in through the door. a curly haired blonde, a grinning brunette with red tips, and the tallest of the three, a button-nosed ginger. each wearing the team’s signature letterman jacket. you hate the sight of that damn letterman jacket.

they’re rough housing with each other, pushing and shoving, until eventually, one of them crashes into your desk, sending your bookbag and its contents flying. you feel your teeth grit together— any closer and it would have been your coffee all over your brand new laptop.

“sorry, sorry,” the blonde screech-laughs, scrambling to catch herself before she tumbles. you spot the hickeys shamelessly scattered on her neck. you wouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised if she had showed up half drunk to class.

“bro, pick them up for her at least,” the red-haired one laughs.

“i got it,” you say through gritted teeth. you want to say as little as possible to these idiots.

but it’s the tall one who is kneeling down with you, scooping up your pens in her hands, offering them to you all while avoiding your gaze. “uh, sorry ‘bout that.”

“it’s fine.”

“cool miffy eraser.”

“thanks.”

is she expecting you to thank her? for picking up four pens and an eraser that her friend dropped?

your professor clears his throat once the teaching assistant arrives, signaling the start of class. the three stooges share a look between themselves before hurrying up the steps of the lecture hall, making their way up to a back row where you’re certain they’re planning to just good off and distract everyone for the rest of class.

you sigh as you return to your seat and focus on the words in front of you on your laptop. you hate hockey.

“hi y/n,” sophia, the delightfully nice upperclassman TA of your course approaches you as class ends. “got a minute?”

you nod, packing up your backpack. sophia has taught a few lessons in the course, her powerpoints engaging and meticulous, and you can’t help but admire how perfectly she navigates the content. talk about goals.

“the university resource center reached out to us and said a student is requesting accommodations. a note-taker is all they’re asking for. that means we can find someone in class to assign to take notes for the student.”

“me?” your eyebrows arch as your realize what she’s asking.

“i’ve been grading your class’ discussion posts. you very clearly love british literature.” she smiles, and you feel your neck burn at the compliment. “it’s a decent pay, and you can just offer whatever notes you’re already taking. we just need to let the student know by friday. let me know?”

minji gives you the push you need when you get home to your dorm later that day and explain your situation to your roommates.

“you’re already taking the notes. might as well get your bag,” she shrugs from her bed where she’s playing animal crossing.

belle nods in agreement. “plus, you love being helpful. our bleeding heart.”

you roll your eyes and shoot an email to sophia, receiving a smiley face as her reply just a few minutes later.

you printed out your notes up to that point in the quarter to have them ready for thursday’s lecture. sophia said she’ll introduce the two of you at the end of class, all you have to do is hang back. you ruffle through your backpack once class ends, tucking your laptop away as the last of your classmates begin to trickle out the door.

your professor waves to you as he leaves, and you happily get up from your seat to approach sophia.

at least– until you’re cut off by someone clumsily stepping in front of you, in a flash of ginger hair.

your heart drops. no way in hell.

“hi.” she says simply, face unreadable. today, her and the three stooges kept showing tik toks to each other in the middle of lecture, at least three accidentally blasting at full volume. you want to tell her the hell off for always disrupting your favorite class, but sophia’s eyes are eagerly on you, and you want to impress your new mentor.

“hi,” you manage to get out behind gritted teeth.

this girl is way too overdressed for an 11am english lit course. white button up shirt, a messily knotted tie, dickies and that stupid letterman jacket with the leather sleeves. the beanie she usually sports is nowhere to be found, letting you get a better look at her features.

not that you particularly care to look at her. she’s not even giving you the decency to look you in the eyes, instead, just fixing her glance at your hand and pointing.

“i need that,” she finally says after an awkward pause. she points again. “uh, those.”

“you?” you’re still in disbelief. you’re going to spend every thursday after class giving your beautiful, pristine notes to this entitled fuckboy jock?

“unless uh, if you’re not y/n y/ln, and those aren’t for me,” she adds, peeking down at her phone to confirm the details.

“i typed today’s lecture.” you feel a scream bubbling in your chest, but you manage to suppress it. “let me send them to you. let me give you my email.”

“ah, cool.” she hands you her phone, already opened to her student email account. you glance at the cinamoroll phone case, when she finally catches you off guard, adding a quick “thank you.”

“no problem.” well, yes problem, but maybe it’s more of an ego thing. at least she finally said thank you.

“if you could send, uh, all of them. that’d be easier.” the athlete scratches awkwardly at the back of her head. you’re a bit irritated that you wasted all that paper trying to print them and be polite, but whatever. bleeding heart or whatever belle said, you figure you can’t exactly be choosy about your good deeds if you want the karma.

“and we have an away game next week, so i’ll be missing class on tuesday. if you can email me then too…”

“got it.” when did you sign up to be a freaking personal assistant?

“thank you.” she dips her head down, lips pressing together into a fine line. “i’m megan.”

“bye megan,” you wave, before snatching up your backpack and getting the hell out of there.

you’re left in peace next week as the three stooges aren’t there on tuesday.

thursday rolls around, and megan is waiting for you in the hallway by the door again, leaning against the wall. you’re starting to feel extremely irritated by the whole situation. she didn’t even reply to your emails from last week or this week to say thank you for the notes you emailed. at the very least, she could let you know that she got them, right?

“you can just email them, all of them, in the future. save the paper,” she tells you as you hand her your annotated paper copy of that week’s powerpoint. you squint at her and walk off without a word.

the one good thing that comes out of this arrangement is that sophia invites you to get coffee with her after class, and your mentor becomes one of your favorite friends in the span of a week.

“i didn’t know you got accommodations for being a jock that misses half a semester’s worth of class,” you say irritatedly as you pick your order up off the counter.

sophia laughs. “i’m so sorry… they don’t tell me why they need the notes, just that they’re approved for them.”

“ugh, i’d kill for someone to give me all their notes,” minji, who tagged along, complains. “stupid hockey players get everything handed to them.”

“do you think that’s really it though? like they get free access to a notewriter because they miss so much class? and the university obviously wants to keep making money off of them,” you speculate. “holy shit. that’s so unfair.”

“i don’t know anything about how the student athlete system works,” sophia wrinkles her nose.

you’ve already made up your mind. come this thursday, you’re putting your foot down.

thursday’s class comes. megan’s stupid blonde friend does actually spill your coffee this time. now, you’re not only pissed with megan, but pissed with everything that surrounds her. her friends leave the lecture hall with the taller girl trailing behind them, but you grab her by the sleeve to stop her. she’s dressed normally today: beanie, hoodie, sweats, and that stupid jacket on top of it all.

“y/n,” she greets, almost cheerfully. “you don’t have to keep waiting for me, the emails are fine-”

“i don’t think you deserve my notes any more,” you cut her off. you’re waiting for it, the entitlement, the meltdown, whatever it is that shitty people who take advantage of you do, but it never comes.

megan simply wrinkles her nose and shrugs, scratching awkwardly at her forehead.

“well, i’m dyslexic, so there’s that.”

“oh my god.” that’s why she got the accommodation approved. not because she’s a jock. you’re swept over by a wave of instant regret. you pray to god you’ll live this down. “i am so sorry.”

“your notes are also really, really helpful.” megan holds up the paper she had been hiding in her hand. a bright red 72 is circled on the quiz.

“a C?”

“technically a C minus,” she corrects you playfully. “and it’s the best i’ve done on one of these stupid quizzes since the semester started.”

you feel your nose burn with embarrassment. “i’m sorry.”

“i’d be annoyed too if someone took advantage from all my hard work.” she offers a tilt of her head. “i promise i’ll be more grateful.”

“no, you don’t have to do that.” you’re still reeling from megan’s quiet confession. “i was being neurotic.”

“here, ah, put your number in,” she hands you her silly cinnamoroll phone case. “i’ll send you a QR code, you can scan it for free drinks at the cafe. student athlete discount.”

“i’m sorry again,” you grimace.

she shakes her head. the smile playing on her lips stirs something in the pit of your stomach.

“it’s no worries. i’ll see you next week.”

two weeks after your whole expose on megan, you two have fallen into a cordial rhythm of nodding to each other at the end of every class. you appreciate that she acknowledges you now.

however, this does not diminish your burning hatred for the hockey team as a whole.

you’re in the middle of impressing your professor, explaining the contrast between romanticism and modern cynicism, bringing in points you had connected from your intro to philosophy class.

but it’s hard to finish the thoughts when the three stooges are causing a ruckus from their corner of the room. you see lara smack dani in the shoulder, the two struggling to catch their breaths in between silent laughs. megan, stuck in the middle of them, looks clearly distressed.

your eyes meet, and you swear there’s something apologetic in the way she looks at you.

your professor is equally as unpleased as you are, glaring at the trio as you finish your thoughts.

“miss skiendiel? any thoughts?”

you can’t help but feel bad. if anything, megan was the least guilty of the three. it was the other two that were giggling like little stupid frat boys.

“uh yeah,” megan leans back in her chair, clearing her throat. she’s quiet for a few moments before she simply shrugs and scratches at her nose. “ditto, y/ln.”

dani bursts out into laugher and a few other snickers are heard throughout the lecture hall. you grit your teeth. is she too cool to care? you had started to let yourself think that maybe she was more than a mindless jock just coasting through classes so she could focus on playing. but every chance she gets, megan just feeds the fire.

she tries to nod at you after class, but you’re not having it. it surprises you when she steps into your way, ducking her head down to meet your gaze. you curse silently at how much taller she is than you.

“hey,” she chirps.

“what do you want?”

“i’m sorry about them. they’re—“ she pauses, processing your tone. “hold up, are you annoyed with me?”

“i shouldn’t be?” you snap.

“why would you? i was trying to tell them to shut up.”

“and then you opened your mouth, and it was like you couldn’t be bothered. you act like you’re above it all.”

she’s staring at you in disbelief, that stupid beanie obstructing her brows but you can see the confusion in her eyes. those big round puppy dog eyes widen.

“that? y/n, you think my dumb ass is gonna be able to come up with something on the spot right after you just sounded so smart? much less in front of everyone?”

“you’re always so over it.” you roll your eyes, reaching down to grab your backpack. “care at least a little.”

“y/n, listen to me.” megan holds her hand out to stop you and her voice drops, but it’s not threatening. it’s almost… shy? “y/n, you scare the fucking shit out of me. that’s why i’m so quiet. i’m trying to think of what to say.”

you blink back in confusion. “i’m not scary.”

“you’re like a super genius.” the athlete gives you a pleading look. “my brain feels like i dropped it in the toilet and soaked it in rice.”

you laugh at her comparison. she grins and you figure you can forgive her, at least this time.

“that’s dramatic.”

“i’m hopeless. your notes are the only thing keeping me holding on.”

you feel an ache in your chest. megan isn’t all that bad— just a girl desperate to make progress even if she’s sinking.

“are you busy tonight? i can come help you study,” you offer, and you can already hear belle clowning you for your charity work.

her grin widens, exposing the whites of her extremely nice teeth. you feel yourself soften, even if just for a moment.

“you’d be saving my life. i’ll text you my dorm after practice.”

“don’t stand me up,” you warn. you wonder if it went to your head, hearing megan admit you intimidate her.

but then her lips curl into a playful smile, nodding as she strides backwards out of the classroom. “yeah, ditto, y/n. i better see you then.”

you’re in her building as soon as she texts you that she’s out just a few hours later. you double check the number on the door and feel your heart pound as her neighbor walks out, eyeing you up and down before heading down the hall. ugh, you pray you don’t look desperate.

“megan?” you call out, knocking on the door. the door gives way, clearly not locked or even closed all the way, and you immediately spot the flash of bright orange hair. she’s hunched over in front of her bed, eyes fixed on the laptop with a set of headphones covering her ears. her hair is in two braids falling over her shoulders.

“y/n! sorry, these things are noise cancelling,” she apologizes, motioning for you to come join her. you step in, and she tries to turn the laptop away from you, which you flag as suspicious. “i got started without you.”

you lean over a little further and roll your eyes as you see what’s actually pulled up. it’s a hockey game.

“so much for studying time, skiendiel.”

“no, no,” she says hurriedly, pulling the headphones completely off her head. “i’m listening to your notes. look.”

she pulls up her phone and true to her word, she’s using speech to text to read the document out through her headphones.

your heart breaks at her brows furrowing together, those dark eyes pleading up at you. she’s just a fucking puppy.

“it’s the only way i can focus. i have to watch my games back to relax. i already did my workouts, ate, packed for tomorrow. it’s the only way i can fit everything in and not go crazy.”

“i can read them to you,” you offer.

“i can read,” megan wrinkles her nose. “i just waste more energy trying to figure it out than actually retaining anything.”

“i can read, and explain it to you,” you modify your initial suggestion, before you even realize what you’re doing. why are you so eager to help this girl? a month ago you were complete strangers, and she was the bane of your existence.

but there she is, the jock you hoped would never show up to class again, looking up at you with the most round brown eyes that keep rustling something in you. is it pity?

“you must think i’m so fucking stupid,” she grimaces, shaking her head.

“i think you’re willing to work hard,” you tell her gently. “that counts for a lot in my book, actually.”

she says nothing, flipping open her copy of the class textbook. but the look she gives you, warm and full of gratitude, says everything.

you two spend the next hour, criss crossed on her floor, papers and books strewn around you. your review is going better than you anticipated: she’s quiet, focused, and attentive to all the comparisons you draw.

“i hate this fuckass romantic period,” megan hisses as you finish your next reading of a lord byron piece. you noticed her brows furrowing halfway through as she tries to keep up. “so much poetry bullshit.”

“you’re good at poetry. it’s all metaphors for big feelings,” you encourage her, before a memory that comes to mind helps carry your point across. “the thing you said about your brain the other day was an amazing metaphor.”

“that? my brainrot? i speak like that ‘cause i can’t figure out how to say what i really want.”

you realize what it is, your question from earlier. it isn’t pity. megan is just a nervous, hard-on-herself girl, stuck in the expectations of others, a victim even to your unfair judgement. literature has always come easily to you– you can’t imagine how hard it must be for someone to be trying to navigate that at a disadvantage and still give it their all.

you put a finger on it. it’s not pity. it’s admiration.

“it paints a picture, perfectly,” you tell her, pushing back against what you realize is her constant cloud of self-doubt. she shakes her head, but the smile is there, telling you you’ve broken through to her. you press on, preparing the next passage to read out loud. “just imagine these old white dudes are trying to do the same.”

you don’t finish up until 10pm, when her roommate enters and seems genuinely surprised to see you both.

“hi marsh,” she greets.

“ah, i was wondering why our neighbor warned me that you had a girl over,” the accented girl greets, grinning cheekily. “they couldn’t possibly imagine you’d just be studying.”

you see megan’s face burn red. you laugh to cover up the flash of heat that takes to your neck from the speculation.

“they’re conspiring against me ‘cause i’m really not like that,” megan groans, standing up hurriedly. “you’re gonna make my tutor think i’m a piece of shit.”

“don’t let her fool you,” the brunette smiles warmly, pointing at megan. “heart of gold, this one.”

“ah okay, now that’s too much.” megan tries to bury her face in her shoulder awkwardly, handing you your shoes. “let me walk you out.”

belle texts you to remind you that she’s outside the dorm to pick up dinner with you, like you had agreed. megan walks you down, waving awkwardly to your roommate before turning to you with that same awkward wave.

“uh, bye. thank you again. made a lot of sense when you broke it down.”

“i’m happy to come by again soon, if it made a difference,” you smile.

“only if you were already planning to study by yourself. don’t go out of your way for me,” she tells you forcefully.

“i’m happy to,” you reassure her. “good night megan.”

maybe you catch her off guard by saying her name, but the way her eyes widen makes you laugh. there’s something charming about her undeniable awkwardness. she waves again, and watches carefully from the building doors as you stride up to belle, waiting for you on a nearby bench.

“that’s your charity project?” she questions, “your horrible hockey jock?”

“i might’ve been quick to judge,” you admit, looking over your shoulder. megan is still there, leaning against the doorframe, watching you guys walk off. “she’s not all bad.”

“not all bad? you made her seem irredeemable,” belle laughs, looping her arm in yours.

her only crime is liking hockey and being awkward. you sigh, and belle changes the subject, but you’re stuck thinking about it for the rest of the night. megan deserves a chance to show you who she is before you decide it for her.

and she does exactly that. megan, once she feels more comfortable, turns out to be a complete goofball. you’re laughing so hard at her stupid jokes one study session that you cough up red bull out of your nose and megan nearly passes out laughing with you. megan exposes that despite the hockey player stereotype, she is completely harmless. you watch her awkwardly let people cut her in line, or sip a drink made incorrectly when you get coffee together, all because she’s too nervous to speak up. megan is a mama’s girl and has nightly calls with her mom, sometimes interrupting your sessions, but she’s quick to mumble an ‘i love you too, mom,’ when she thinks you can’t hear her. and you learn that megan, more than anything, loves hockey.

megan is also insanely humble, and is used to hard work. you start to realize just how much the athlete has on her plate.

you guys are leaving class one day, trying to decide when your next study session should be, when she explains what a normal day looks like for her. conditioning, nutrition, physical therapy for an old back strain, at least a half hour every night of reviewing her game tapes to see how she could have played better. and that’s not even including the hour-and-a-half practices she attends every day. and in megan’s case, you realized, she shows up an hour early to get a head start. that’s not even to mention the travel time involved with away games.

no wonder she only hangs around those stupid jock friends of hers. with the exception of her roommate, it doesn’t seem like she’d have much time to make friends outside of that.

you’ll admit, however, that lara and daniela are slowly growing on you. dani lives in your dorm building, and lara is the only one with a car on campus, so megan will sometimes end up inviting them to come and study with you guys. lara, confident and forward, is extremely friendly and makes you feel at ease once you stop seeing her as some frat boy wanna-be. dani, a self-proclaimed attention whore that you discover also is extremely emotional, has a laugh so infectious it’s easy to see why her and lara are usually distracted in class.

and then megan, tagging along like their dorky little sibling, constantly begging them to stop drawing attention to themselves. you start to read her face, noticing when she’s dying of embarrassment from something they do.

you start to really know megan, and she lets herself be known, an open and honest response for every question you ask as your friendship deepens over the weeks.

“why do you come to class so dressed up sometimes?” you ask one night, trying to figure out how to help her pre-loop up her tie for the next day. you’re sick of seeing that crooked knot on her neck and offered to teach yourself on youtube to help her out.

“you’re supposed to dress formal on game days.” she explains. “like, to respect the sport or whatever.”

“i see,” you hum, trying to focus on remembering where the next loop goes through. you realize on the days megan is dressed up, you see a ton of people wearing their fan merch. you finally connect the dots. “i didn’t realize this many people liked hockey.”

“yeah, ‘cause you’re a giant nerd and don’t pay attention to sports. hockey is our biggest sport here.” megan teases. “half of our graduates go pro.”

“oh,” you blink. you’re becoming painfully aware of how close you two are, your fingers sliding behind her neck to tuck the tie behind her collar. “you must like the attention.”

“no. i like the game.” megan’s still awkward, but as your friendship has grown, she’s gotten better at correcting your incorrect assumptions. “the attention makes me lose focus.”

“do you wanna go pro?” you ask.

“yes,” megan says, and it’s quiet like a confession.

“i think you can do it.” you say it so confidently, but megan lets out a deep breath that tells you she’s doubted this. you hope she takes your faith in her to heart.

“i would say you should come see a game, but you wouldn’t know the difference if i played great or got my ass beat out there,” she laughs.

“i think you’re the hardest working person i know. you’ll make anything happen.”

“that’s really nice, y/n.” she watches as your fingers finish the final loop, pulling the knot into her collar snugly. “you’ve always been so down to believe in me.”

“promise you won’t forget about me when you make it big?” you grin teasingly. you smooth out her collar around her tie before feeling your neck burn at the proximity between you two. and yet, you don’t find yourself rushing to move away.

megan’s eyes draw to you with something in them, something gentle and different than before.

“of course,” she smiles, but there’s something more. you’re not brave enough to ask her about it.

your phone buzzes you awake. you don’t bother to reach for your glasses, simply seeing 1:29am is enough to irritate you. but then you see the contact photo, a goofy candid of megan with her beanie pulled down over her eyes, and you figure you can’t be that mad.

you slip into the hallway to not wake belle and minji before picking up.

“hi.”

“y/n?” her voice is raspy and so, so sweet. you wonder if she’s just as tired as you are. “what’s up, what do you need?”

“you called me, dumbass.” you laugh. “in the middle of the night, i might add.”

“oh shit, right right,” she says cooly.

you laugh again. megan’s humor is so, so stupid, and you have no clue how she can manage to make you laugh every single time.

“how’s the hotel?” you ask. it’s an away game against washington state.

“too stuffy, and we have a red-eye in like three hours.” she sighs. “daniela just got back from partying and woke me up.”

“at least she didn’t bring anyone back to the room this time,” you say.

“god, please do not remind me of that, y/n,” megan pleads, and you can picture the way she’d give you that panicked glare at the memory. you laugh at the way she told the story when it had first happened– rooming with dani for a game against oregon when the blonde made megan sleep in the bathroom so she could hook up with a sorority girl. megan described being traumatized by what she could hear through the door, and you nearly died of laughter.

“try to sleep. red-eyes can be brutal.”

“i’ll nap when i’m back home,” she reassures you. you’re already planning out what you’ll bring her for lunch as a celebration. you didn’t know much, but you knew that these semi-finals were no joke.

(you don’t mention minji clowning you for tracking the score of the game, and sophia giving you a questioning look when you screamed in the middle of the dining hall once megan’s team had won.)

“i’m literally whispering and dani says i’m making too much noise. i’ll kill her,” megan adds, and you can practically hear the eye-roll.

“you’re not killing anybody, you big dork,” you laugh. “you should go to sleep.”

“fine fine, bye hater.”

“good night, megan.”

“good night, y/n.”

you attempt to pay no mind to the flutter in your chest as you make your way back into your dorm, diving into your bed. before you close your eyes, a text from megan makes that flutter even harder to ignore.

wanted to hear your voice

yeah?

i get homesick on the road :/

aw you poor baby

thanks for picking up

sure jsyk u can call whenever, you big baby

ditto

“what are you doing tomorrow?” she asks you, after a session in your room where you’ve finished drilling the different dates of publications into her head with a stupid memorization song.

“i don’t have any plans besides–”

“besides reading books by boring dead dudes,” megan gripes. “some of the older girls are having a party to celebrate making it to the championships. you should come. you can bring your roommates. the house is so close, it’s like a 20 minute walk from the dorms.”

“i’ll think about it,” you smile.

“think about what?” belle’s voice rings out as she enters the room at the perfect time.

“just a small house party. i’ve never seen you out before, y/n,” megan says.

“y/n’s a homebody, but i’ll get her there. send me the details?” belle grins.

you groan as the two exchange numbers, seeming much too devious for your liking. but the night ends, the next day passes by, and you won’t give megan the satisfaction of letting her know how excited you are about this as your uber drops you and your roomies off far later in the night than you’d like to be awake.

minji squints as the music pounds from the house, barely containing the people that you see through each window. the three of you let yourselves in, immediately met by familiar faces.

“i thought you said small?” belle laughs as lara and daniela greet you with hugs.

“dani posted it to her public story instead of her private,” lara snorts. “half the university is here.”

“if my crime is to love being surrounded by beautiful women, fuckin’ arrest me,” dani defends herself, hands in the air.

“y/n.” megan’s voice rings out from behind you. your heart thuds as she stands there smiling, like a puppy wagging its tail. “you made it.”

“take this with me!” dani grins, handing you a cup of god knows what. you haven’t had enough experience to know your tolerance, but you figure you can start with one and go from there. the blonde cheers as the drink disappears down your throat, megan giving you a concerned yet amused look.

“you’ll die if you try to keep up with her,” she laughs. “she’s fucking crazy.”

“thanks for the tip,” you smile back. you see the cup in her hand. “should i keep up with you instead?”

“it’s gatorade,” she grins sheepishly. “i’m play to win, and i don’t like to take risks the week of such a big game. i try not to even let myself get upset. gotta focus, y’know.”

“well let’s pour one out for baby megs,” lara toasts, pouring from a bottle into everyone’s cups. “and y/n, who saved our girl from academic probation!”

“alright lar, not too much now,” megan wrinkles her nose.

you laugh, and her eyes meet yours, a smile behind their warmth. you’re surrounded by some of the most exciting people you’ve ever met, and yet all you want to do is find a quiet corner and talk to this dork. you feel your chest tense with a weight of something, but you shake your head before the thoughts can develop.

“gonna go get another drink,” you excuse yourself quickly. maybe you need something stronger, just for tonight.

you’re in the kitchen pouring yourself something random when the flash of ginger hair catches your attention from the other room. except, megan’s not alone, and there’s a girl standing a bit too close, touching something on megan’s forearm.

your mouth goes dry. you’d spent so long getting to know the side of megan the world doesn’t see, it hadn’t occurred to you that she could still have a bad side to her. is it even a bad side to be flirting with a cute girl at a college party? you swallow a lump in your throat and drink whatever you’ve put in your cup. of course she’s allowed to do what she wants, and that doesn’t make her a bad person.

you look up again, and megan leans down to whisper something in the girl’s ear. the girl laughs a little too hard, touching her arm again in the process. megan’s funny, but there’s no way she’s that funny, and plus, the only person who ever laughs that hard–

you pause. the only person that laughs that hard at her is you.

the shots you took are catching up to you. you race outside to the front yard to try and get some fresh air, accidentally shoving into a guy who’s lingering by the door.

“woah, slow down there,” he snaps.

“please don’t talk to me,” you reply quickly, head still spinning

“don’t come to my house and be rude as shit,” he growls in response. “i’ll stop talking to you when i want to stop talking to you.”

you try to diffuse it by walking away, but he grabs you by the arm to make you look at him. you feel hot tears spring from your eyes. an angry frat boy is the last thing you can handle right now.

“no smartass comebacks? c’mon, push back you little bitch.”

before you can even do anything, she’s there, like a knight in shining armor, the outside of her forearm crushing against his windpipe as she shoves him into the wall. the movement comes easily to megan, no doubt her 15 years of aggression on the ice. her eyes are wide, darker than you’ve ever seen them before.

she barely registers him before those brown eyes come to you. you feel your breath catch in your chest with the way she looks at you.

megan drops him in an instant, instead coming to chase you down.

“i couldn’t think of anything cool to say to scare him.” you realize she’s shaking, her voice quivering. she’s unnerved, but her presence is so so comforting, her rambles are somehow exactly what you need. “i wanted to say ‘i’ll fucking kill you’ and then ‘i’ll kick your ass’ but instead i almost said ‘i’ll fuck your ass.’”

you manage a snort through your tears. somehow, megan makes you laugh even through this.

“‘i’ll fuck your ass’ may have been scarier, actually,” you laugh, sniffling.

“god, y/n.” her brows are knit together in concern. she looks up at the sidewalk, the dorm lights barely visible down the street. “can i make sure you get home okay?”

“it’s so late already, i can’t let you walk back alone.” you shake your head.

“i’m sure as hell not letting you walk alone.” she scoffs, before giving you a nod of reassurance. “dani lives in your building, i’ll sleep at her’s once i’m in the dorm, i have her keycode. please.”

somehow, despite it being god knows how late, you know nothing is going to happen as long as megan is there. she insists on giving you her jacket and as much as you push back, she ignores you and drapes the zip-up over your shoulders anyways. she chats your ear off about how excited she is for friday’s game and before you know it, you’re back in your room, wobbling on unsteady feet through the dorm, grateful your roommates are still partying it up.

“thank you, for everything,” you tell her, watching as you sit on your bed and she quietly unlaces your shoes.

“i owe you a lot, that was nothing.” she shrugs, tossing your shoes into the corner. “if i’m good for anything, i’m good for shoulder checking weirdos.”

you laugh. “hopefully that’s the last time i’ll need your services.”

“you can need me forever,” megan tells you softly, smile on her lips. “i’m here.”

“i judged you so hard when i first met you,” you confess, falling backwards onto your bed. you blink, staring up at the ceiling. “i was so wrong about you.”

“yeah?” she laughs, taking a seat next to you to help put your hair into a bun.

“you’re such a sweetheart,” you sigh, sitting up. your hand brushes a tress of her hair out of her face. “biggest, most thoughtful dork i know.”

“i’m not dorky,” megan furrows her brow. you laugh as her nose scrunches up.

“you were talking to someone, i’m sorry.”

“she was talking to herself and calling it a conversation. i promise, as soon as i saw you walk out, i followed you asap.”

you feel yourself studying her, your heart pressing against your ribcage with something eager to come out.

“i bet you kiss so many girls.” the words spill out of you as the alcohol takes its toll. “how come you’ve never tried to kiss me?”

you see megan’s cheeks flush red, her gaze fixed on the tv as she pulls up a 10 hour dancing fruit video to leave on in the background.

“i don’t kiss that many girls,” she defends herself softly.

“you’re so special. megan the future superstar.” you groan, realizing how fleeting your friendship is. all you’ll probably be is a footnote in her life’s story. you furrow your brows. “i want a kiss from megan the future superstar.”

as drunk as you are, you’re shocked when she seems to comply.

your breath hitches as she leans in. her lips press gently against your temple.

“there.” she whispers, checking down at her phone. “minji and belle will be here soon, okay? good night, y/n.”

she pulls your blanket up over your shoulders and slips into the hallway. you’re too out of it to ask her to stay.

you wake up, and realize someone is in your bed.

you panic for a brief second before you realize that person is playing animal crossing on their switch, completely unbothered by you gaining consciousness. you’ve never been so grateful to see minji before, even if she is smothering you as you cram into the twin sized bed.

“she’s alive,” minji calls out from next to you. belle comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered, and pulls something out of the mini-fridge for you. a pedialyte in your favorite flavor and some pain relievers.

“thank you,” you sigh to your roommates, feeling your head pound as you sit up and start to chug, swearing off college parties for the rest of your years.

“can’t take credit. your jock left them for you this morning,” belle informs you, a teasing grin.

“oh god, megan,” you wince, recalling your behavior from the night before.

“she wouldn’t go away,” minji complains. “not until i texted her a picture of me in your bed so she knew i was there.”

“she does the same thing when i walk home with y/n from their study dates.” belle says. “just watches us from the doorway until we can’t see her any more.”

“y/n adopted a stray,” minji teases.

“if you say some shit about a bleeding heart, i’ll throw up in your bed specifically,” you threaten belle, and your roommates laugh at you as you let out another groan. you figure skipping class for the first time all semester won’t kill you as you lay back down.

after skipping all your classes, you’re at a table in the dining hall, meal untouched, your focus instead on trying to draft a text to megan that even begins to fix the mess you left behind last night. you’ve been at the same table for at least an hour, trying to figure out how to even start.

“hey, y/ln.” you recognize the voice as dani’s, calling out from behind your booth. “can’t hang?”

“leave her alone, dani.” the voice makes you freeze in place. you didn’t even get a chance to send your text.

“we missed you last night for spin the bottle,” dani grins. “meg had to get it on with that cheerleader.”

despite all the work you did last night to remember megan’s allowed to do what she wants, your stomach drops at dani’s reveal.

“yeah, okay, go away,” megan groans, shooing the blonde. dani complies, and megan sits so you’re alone in the booth together, side by side. she rests her head in her hand on the table. “so…”

“i’m really sorry about all i put you through last night,” you immediately start, feeling the regret press in your ribs.

“you don’t have to be,” she tells you softly, head shaking.

“no, i am.” you insist, realizing how stupid it was of you to think anything would ever come of this. megan doesn’t see you as anything but a tutor, a familiar face at best who she’ll leave behind as soon as she makes it big. “i got so caught up. in the game, the party, the celebration.”

“oh. um, yeah?” she asks quietly.

“you’re not a hockey star to me. you’re just megan.” you furrow your brows. “i’m sorry again for all that.”

you were hoping it would clear things up. but it’s like a cloud comes over megan, her gaze hard and more importantly, avoiding yours.

“no yeah, totally,” she wrinkles her nose, eyes clamping shut. you wonder what’s coming over her and panic that you’ve done something you can’t take back. you try to pivot away quickly.

“your game’s tonight, right?” you ask, but she’s already getting up from the table, gathering her bookbag in her hand.

“megan?” you check in.

“yeah, don’t worry about coming,” she tells you, shaking her head. “i know it’s not your thing.”

and before you can utter a single word more, she’s gone.

you take a couple of hours to try to do homework in the library, but you couldn’t possibly focus. not with megan’s final expression haunting you, the pained scrunch of her nose, her inability to bring herself to look at you. you have a tab open to a youtube livestream of the game that you can’t seem to draw your eyes away from.

“you look constipated,” minji says plainly as you get back to the dorm.

“you are such a-” you stop yourself. you’re not angry at minji, you’re angry at yourself. no need to take out a civilian in the crossfire. you suck in a deep breath and try again. “minji, please be nice to me for once. i’m having a shit day.”

“cheer up.” she says so devoid of emotion, you wonder if she was dropped as a baby. but then she’s handing you a card, in handwriting familiar to you but definitely not minji’s own. “your puppy dog gave this to me when we got coffee.”

your eyes nearly bug out of your head. “you got coffee together? today? since when do you hang out?”

“when you were passed out this morning. and i said she was determined, not that i didn’t like her.” you’ll never understand how this girl’s brain works. “anyways, letter, for you.”

you want to ask so many more questions, but a lightbulb goes off as you try to think about the web of connections at this university.

“and your friendship has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been admiring her roommate from afar with absolutely zero rizz to approach her with? are you trying to have her put in a good word?”

you would pay to watch minji’s demeanor crack like this again.

“wah, shut up. you spread lies on my good name.” she shakes her head furiously, but nothing ever triggers minji, so you know you’ve hit a soft spot when she gets this worked up. “megan is…”

“the closest you’re ever going to get to danielle marsh,” you burst out laughing.

“shut up and read your letter.”

you open the envelope and a ticket falls out. today’s date, 7pm, the championship game at your university ice arena.

y/n. i wrote this by hand and took my time. thank you for everything this semester. i think meeting you was my favorite part of this year. i’m grateful you saw me, the way you really saw me. hope that makes sense. hanging out with you felt like being a book that someone finally took off the shelf and opened up. hope to see you at my big game. i saved you a seat by the box, so you can help me study in between plays.

– megan

ps. just kidding about the studying thing, don’t you dare bring a book into my sacred space. anyways, thanks again.

“minji, i think i fucked up,” you breathe quietly. how unfair to keep judging megan when this whole time, she’s shown you exactly who she is. was it easier to say megan was this or that in order to soothe your own confused feelings? who did it ultimately hurt in the end?

“what would belle say?” the girl asks. “go bleed your heart out or whatever.”

you don’t correct her. it’s honestly the perfect advice.

you check your phone and see the game is at halftime, and they’re down 0-2. the stadium is on the other side of campus, but you remember megan’s words from the party. she doesn’t even try to let herself feel upset the week of a game, and there you are on the night of her team’s championship game, being the worst friend possible to her.

your heart races, then aches. you have to make this right, the sooner the better. you order an uber and pray this is the right call.

you race into the stadium and realize it’s absolutely packed with thousands of people, and thunderously loud. it looks like a professional stadium, even at the college level. the game is tied now, 2-2, but you remember enough of what megan’s told you to recognize that they’ve gone into overtime. next to score wins.

you stumble hurriedly down the steps before you make it to the front row. just as the note said, there’s an open seat directly in front of the player box. you see the flash of ginger hair from under a helmet, hunched over on the bench as she watches the play, clearly nervous. you lock your gaze on her and run up to the plexiglass wall.

there’s a tiny slot in the glass, usually where the players hand a dead puck or a broken stick through the slot to an eager fan, but you’re too desperate to get a hold of megan that you yell to her through it, hoping she can hear you over all the noise.

“megan!”

she looks around confusedly, before turning around to see you against the glass.

“y/n?”

“you deserve so much more than an apology, but i can at least start with saying i’m sorry,” you know the confession is terrible timing wise, but you’ll never live with yourself if you don’t get it off your chest, especially on such an important night for megan. “i’ve been so horrible to you, assuming all the worst, and you’ve been nothing but an angel to me. ugh, i just…i feel so stupid, because i know how this ends, and i don’t want to get hurt, but i feel like i’ll regret it if i don’t say something.”

“how this ends?” you see megan’s brows furrow together underneath her face guard. “y/n, i could never even dream of hurting you.”

“you didn’t want to kiss me,” you remind her, but you don’t want it to feel like a guilt trip. “and that’s okay, i just know that changed a lot and-”

“because you were drunk.” she cuts you off, shaking her head quickly, her nose wrinkling as she clamps her eyes shut. “that’s- it’s just- fuck.”

“what?” you ask, but before you can finish, daniela slams into the player box and leans in towards megan.

“kazuha’s getting killed out there. she needs a stronger center out, coach is gonna put you in,” dani yells over the roar of the crowd, reaching over to grab a fast sip of water. she shoots a look at you, then a warning glare at megan to wrap it up. “30 seconds.”

“y/n—“

30 seconds is all you need. you won’t waste your shot.

“megan, i really like you. as in, really like you.” you feel the hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you finally hear the words out loud. “as in, i think i’m falling for you, which is so scary. i’m sorry for messing up our friendship. these feelings are way too huge for me to push away. knowing you was amazing and i don’t want you thinking for a second that it wasn’t.”

“skiendiel, in for center. push up and get that puck into that damn net!” coach yells, tapping the back of the ginger’s helmet to get her attention.

megan gives you a look, your confession hanging in the air, before she leaps over the door and back onto the ice.

she’s so insanely fast. you don’t have to know hockey to know she’s zipping circles around the other team, their yells of frustration loud and clear as megan swipes in to intercept pass after pass.

she’s so focused. you watch in awe.

dani is yelling something to which kazuha nods, dropping her shoulders to book it towards megan. megan uses their proximity to take the pass, running the puck once more up the ice. the defense of the other team are playing dirty, a high stick to the eye immediately taking daniela flat down onto the ice. lara calls for a foul from her spot in the goalie’s box, but the ref didn’t see it, so the play goes on at break-neck speed.

despite the chaos, megan is locked in to what she needs to do.

she spits the puck back out in a blazing pass back to kazuha, spinning off an incoming check from another player. she eyes the goal for a split moment, the clock trickling down into its final seconds, before kazuha’s pass is already blasting towards her.

megan shows no hesitation. she checks a defense into the wall before spinning off, stick lifting into the air to take the most perfect shot off kazuha’s pass.

your breath catches in your throat as the puck seems to suspend in air, everything going in slow motion. then, your eyes meet, in the middle of it all.

the goal lights up red just as the buzzer hits. the entire stadium erupts into a deafening roar as you watch megan get swarmed by her entire team. final score 3-2.

they’re cheering as a team, but you see the flash of ginger hair as a helmet comes off and a body starts skating back towards you. you move to the tunnel, where megan comes off the ice and can finally be face to face with you. she’s breathing heavy, stray hairs clinging to her face through the sweat.

“i didn’t kiss you that night because i wanted it to be perfect.” megan’s still catching her breath, but she seems desperate to clear her name. you feel frozen in front of her, but she presses on earnestly. “i didn’t want it to be another kiss with a random stranger i’d forget about in a week. i’ve spent too much time thinking about kissing you. i didn’t want it to be anything less than perfect for you.”

“i’m crazy about you, y/n,” she gasps breathlessly, arm wrapping around your waist without hesitation. “i like everything about you. i like you so much it scares me.”

“why didn’t you say anything?” is all you can manage, shaking your head in disbelief.

“are you serious?” megan lets out a high pitched laugh. “look at you. you’re the most brilliant, incredible, hilarious, kind person i know. i didn’t think i stood a chance. i’m nowhere near cool enough or smart enough to think i was good enough to talk to you, let alone getting to be your friend. it was so worth it to just be your friend. i would have been happy with that forever.”

you feel your head spin. megan thinks all this about you?

“i literally asked you to kiss me,” you press, confused about how it could have been misread.

“i didn’t think you were being weird about me being popular. when you cleared that up, my next thought was that you were pitying me, like how you pity-tutored me.” she confesses. “i overthought and it messed me up. i’m sorry.”

“if you don’t just damn kiss already,” lara barks at you guys as the team starts to trickle off the ice and into the tunnel, daniela grinning teasingly right behind her as she ices her eye. you wince at how bad her eye looks following that high stick, but then you realize what she’s teasing you about.

you look back at megan, those perfect brown eyes searching for something in yours. you can’t possibly understand how someone who just won her team a national championship can still seem so hesitant.

“may i?” she tilts her head eagerly.

“oh my god, asking permission after all that.” you groan and wrap your arms around her neck, head reeling from all that’s just unfolded. “megan, you chivalrous loser, i swear to god.”

she grins something so angelic, you choose to forgive her.

and the kiss she gives you, gentle yet eager, her arms wrapping around your waist to anchor you in place, is so, so perfect. so insanely worth the wait.

you walk into your 11am intro to british literature class that tuesday, door held open for you by your chivalrous loser.

sophia’s grading papers at the professor’s desk when eyes drop to your hands (your interlaced, holding-hands-with-megan hands) and smiles at you so giddily, you can’t help but smile back at her just as big. she’s never going to let you live this down.

dani and lara sit in the row directly behind you guys, hooting and making kissy noises to taunt their younger teammate. you won’t admit how much these idiots have grown on you.

megan’s arm snakes behind your shoulders as she leans back in her seat next to you. her laptop is already out, open to a new document. you’re so insanely proud of her for her determination.

you’re too busy admiring her to realize you’re staring, and by the time you’re aware, she’s side-eyeing you.

“eyes on your own paper, cheater.”

“oh my god, class hasn’t even started yet. you literally haven’t even typed anything.”

her fingers quickly hit the keyboard, a few strokes before she turns the computer to face you.

i <3 my super cool gf

girlfriend. your heart races at the memory of how you made it official over the weekend after being her date to all the celebratory dinners. you smile and type something back.

i <3 my dorky sweet gf

megan won’t ever let you catch a break. “oh, so you get to be cool and i’m just a dork again?”

“my dork now,” you remind her.

“you’re on thin ice,” she rolls her eyes. “you’ll have to take me on a date to make up for it.”

she reaches forward to take your hand in hers, letting them dangle between the desks. you give her hand a gentle squeeze. she peers at you from the corner of her eye, scrunches her nose, and re-focuses on the board as the professor sets up his presentation.

this stupid letterman jacket you’ve always talked shit about is actually kinda warm. at least, you like it a whole lot better when you’re the one wearing it.

“i like you so much,” you breathe quietly as the lecture begins.

she smiles eagerly, bringing your hand up to plant a kiss along your knuckles. she’s been so open about her affection for you, you feel like you’re in a dream.

“the guy is trying to teach,” she chastizes you, and you roll your eyes at the change in roles. the way she looks at you tells you she has so, so much to say, and your heart pounds as she focuses back on the lecture. your responsible girl.

she doesn’t leave you hanging, however, adding a final thought.

“but yeah, ditto.”

#megan skiendiel x reader #megan skiendiel #katseye x reader #megan x reader #megan skiendel imagine #katseye #katseye megan #megan katseye

736 notes · View notes

lolsmiley · 6 months ago

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ SUBTLE & SECRET 3 ᝰ! D.A.

trying to be subtle and secret with daniela!

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ ❪ 𝑦𝑡 𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑜. ❫ ｡ daniela avanzini x f!r 𖥔 fluff ── disclaimers: katseye 7th member au, futch queen agenda, boyfriend!dani, older!reader (read in dark mode!) / pt. one, two / ℭatalogue

OUR FAVORITE FUTCH DANI WITH HER FAVOURITE FUTCH Y/N BEING A COUPLE (everybody act surprised!)

100.2k likes | 778k views | 26th Feb, 25

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip one: [ INSTAGRAM ] 22/02/25 via @ynln

A video taken on your phone set on the dashboard was posted on your Instagram story with the caption, “slamming dani’s car door as a prank i forgot i had in my drafts ;)”. Daniela was on her phone, unaware of your actions as you settled into the passenger seat. In a beanie, sporting a neon green and black soccer jersey (yes the fit from futch line’s recent tiktoks), the blonde beside you finally glanced up, giving the camera a skeptical look before glancing at you.

You tried containing your grin, glancing at Daniela’s eyes--fixed between your sly eyes and knowing smirk--on the screen as you fixed the position of the video so both of you were in it.

“Babe, what’re you doing?” Daniela sighed, “What is this?”

[ yes, dani calls the other girls babe too but this feels different ]

You shrugged, “Nothing, I was tryna check how I looked in my camera.” Your hands shot up to fix your hair, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you kept your giggles in. “You ready to go?”

She nodded, eyebrows still furrowed in thought. She glanced between you and the camera. You grabbed your bag, opening the door as you stepped out. It was obvious she was beginning to question what your phone was set up for, but she didn’t quite get a word in before you weren’t in the car anymore. She set her phone down, poking her head forward to call after you in panic, “Wait, are you just gonna leave your phone here--?”

You slammed the door as hard as you physically could.

Taken aback, Daniela flinched, adjusting the beanie on her head as she did her best to catch your eye through the window. She wagged a finger, gesturing for you to come back into the car with a disapproving glare.

You flung the door open, “What? I thought you were ready.”

“What do you mean, ‘what’? You almost tore my goddamn door off its hinges,” she scolded, motioning for you to get back into the car. You rolled your eyes, putting on your best, bratty persona to sell the prank. You crossed your arm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you insisted, “Can we please go eat, Dani, I’m hungry.”

“No, woman, get your pretty ass back in here.” she barked.

[ raw--i mean, aww (next question, please) ]

You bit back a smile, which could be seen from the video if you looked the slightest bit closer (which most eyekons did). You got back in her red mustang, sitting nicely. She gave you a look, as if wordlessly scolding you for the little performance. “I know you ain’t throwing me mad attitude right now.”

You groan, “Daniela, I’m hungry. I didn’t even slam the door that hard, I was just getting out the car.”

“Nuh-uh, you damn near broke my baby,” she stroked the steering wheel, “You’re not getting any food until I hear a proper apology from you, mami. We don’t slam doors up in this house, especially not when I’ve so kindly driven you.”

“Dani--I swear,” you giggled, “You love this car more than me.”

“I mean,” she held her hands up, earning a tongue click and playful shove to the shoulder. “I’m joking, but don’t slam the door on me ever again, yeah? I’ll revoke all your passenger princess privileges, don’t test me.”

You pointed at your phone, “Tell the eyekons that.”

For a moment, she didn’t seem to link the two dots together, but when you smirked and winked at your phone, her face fell knowingly. “Oh my--Is this that stupid thing we saw together yesterday? The slamming my boyfriend’s door trend?”

[ they do couple trends together like come on now ]

“Yeah, and you were giving boyfriend there, so it worked out.” You began waving at the camera, which Daniela quickly joined in on after an exaggerated groan. She rested her head on your shoulder, peering at the camera with her big, doe eyes.

When you grabbed your phone, and right before you turned it off, the video was slowed down and rewound so the fans could clearly point out Daniela leaning in, her nose into the hair behind your ears as the phone shook. It wasn’t fully clear, but it was obvious she was either whispering something or kissing you. Her arm around you behind your back.

[ i know this singular video haunts their pr team so bad ]

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip two: [ TWITCH ] Katseye & D4vd’s Stream

user01 oh look it’s katseye’s futch line

“Did we all look at the same comment?” Megan chuckled, her cheeky smile apparent to everybody watching at home. As the three of you agreed with her statement, you eyed Daniela’s reaction out of the corner of your eye.

She seemed to be having trouble reminding herself of her pr training. Earlier in the live, she came up behind you whilst you were reading the chat. Her hand initially palmed one side of your waist, her head resting on your shoulder, but immediately slipped away to stand beside you instead when she caught a particular comment calling her out. You didn’t seem to catch the comment, too engrossed in the conversation you were having with D4vd, but she made sure to keep her distance after it. She really didn’t want trouble with the team.

Now, while the four of you made fun of the chat and started talking with the fans about whatever, it was obvious Daniela was much more cautious and guarded with her expressions.

“Not all of us,” Megan giggled, earning a small swat from Lara.

Daniela gulped, catching you staring at her onscreen. She cleared her throat, scanning the comments for anything that would drive the topic away from the one Megan brought up.

You raised an eyebrow, standing your tug at the waistband of your track sweats. D4vd handed you his phone, on a delivery app. “Dani, babe, what do you want from Wingstop?”

She finally glanced at you upon processing the question, “Oh, uh… I’ll take a boneless meal deal.”

That was it. No, “let me see, mami” or “i don’t know, whatever you order, i’ll eat” responses the usual Daniela would shoot back with. And her off energy did not go unnoticed by the chat as well, because soon the comments on their wigs was quickly diverted towards Daniela acting strange strictly to you.

user02 okay hybe scared her straight yall…

user03 oh dani’s SCURRED scurred she’s not risking it

user04 my dann/n heart can’t hybe stop being homophobic

user05 the way y/n’s mood sours with dani’s omg :((

Since she wasn’t the one initiating physical touch or making an effort to keep you comfortable--even though it is her love language, not yours--you decided it would be best if you did.

You strolled over to where she sat in front of the computer, holding the phone down for her as your front grazed her back. Her posture straightened, and you felt her neck tense when your hand slid across her broad shoulders.

“I don’t know where that is, babe, can you pick it?”

[ THE WAY DANI IMMEDIATELY FOLDED SHES SO REAL ]

She cleared her throat, nodding as she took the phone from your hands. Fans noted the way you brushed against the shell of her hand deliberately, your other hand still caressing her nape, fingers creeping up to entangle themselves into the curls hidden beneath her beanie.

“Wait, that looks really good… will you share some with me, Dani? Please?” You pouted, gently grabbing her chin to tilt her head up at you. “I’ll share dessert with you if we go out later.”

[ the look?? suddenly im pregnant and y/n’s my baby daddy ]

Her throat, on display to everybody on the stream from the way you had her head angled up, visibly moved as she sucked in a breath and swallowed her nerves. The corners of her lips quirked upwards, her cheeks flushing the slightest shade of pink. One of her hands instinctively shot up to grab your wrist, guiding it down and away from her face as she glanced down at her screen in attempts to contain the smile you cracked out of her. “Yeah, no need to beg for it, mami.”

user06 i need me a begging futch like y/n this yr please santa

user07 god i’ve seen what you’ve done for others

user08 until the sun comes up. until i need a wheelchair.

user09 nobody talking about dani calling y/n mami???

“Wait, y/n--!” Lara moved off camera to sign something at you. Upon receiving the gesture, you grabbed your own beanie roughly, hopping off screen. Startled, both Megan and Daniela looked at you offscreen as you giggled with Lara.

user10 it was the wig ain’t it

user11 we saw that strand y/n don’t play w us

Once Daniela realized what the little setback was about, she started distracting the chat with something else to draw attention away from you. “Last time I ordered Wingstop, they gave me like four dips for free. I thought I was blessed.”

When you came back onscreen, it was obvious you had adjusted your hat to hide whatever was leaking out from under your beanie. You took a seat beside Daniela, conversing with D4vd and hand casually grabbing at her thigh in support.

She didn’t seem to realize, used to the skinship the two of you were comfortable with.

When the five of you moved to where the Dance Dance Revolution machine was, you and D4vd hopped on for a quick game. two cameras showed you and him bouncing on your toes to the arrows as you laughed. In the foreground, Daniela and Lara were engaging with the fans watching, joking around about the chat’s opinions on their clothing.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, fit check?” She swatted Lara, gesturing for her to do it with her. She quickly unzipped her black hoodie, revealing a tucked Bulls jersey inside, her v-line evident under the hem. You caught a glimpse of the other two’s antics through the camera facing you, you spun, the other, bigger camera catching your startled expression upon seeing Daniela’s exposed abs. You stumbled in your step, messing up whatever rhythm you and D4vd had going on.

user12 real cuz my knees bucked at dani too

user13 ik their pr team hates to see dann/n coming

user14 the way they can’t hide it no matter how hard they try

“Yo, y/n, you good?” D4vd asked, halting his own dance moves to check on you. You waved a hand, nodding with a smile as you tried brushing it off. “I’m fine, just tripped on my pants.”

Megan’s infectious cackle could be heard from behind you, so you spun your head. Her hoodie was half off, leaving an arm in the open. She was leant close towards the fore camera, obviously giggling at the comments made on your mishap. You knew the fans were watching intently, and you knew you were definitely caught in 4k eyeing the Latina.

“Somebody said y/n’s knees are used to responding to futch Dani like that,” Megan announced, followed by her laughter.

Lara began chuckling at the comments as well, coming over to skim the words over Megan’s shoulder. Daniela zipped her jacket back up, glancing back to eye you as D4vd nudged your arm with his elbow. You rolled your eyes, “Oh my God, I tripped on my long ahh pants. Ya’ll wildin’ with these comments.”

You took your hoodie off, revealing the tight camo top you were wearing. You hurled it at Megan, who was straight mocking your poor excuse. Daniela shook her head, standing with D4vd to watch you practically pounce on Megan with flushed cheeks as she teased you for the obvious simping.

[ i need someone to look at me the way dani looks at y/n ]

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip three: [ WEVERSE LIVE ] Manzanita (26:07)

“Where’s y/n? Girl, ya’ll sick of me already?” Manon scoffed, rolling her eyes. She crossed her arms, sulking jokingly. “Guys, y/n’s not all ‘at, she doesn’t love ya’ll the way I do.”

[ she’s so whiney bratty girlfriend she’s my spirit animal ]

“No, I’m just kidding. y/n’s not here right now, she’s out with Dani. Usually on Fridays, those two have this weird weekly thing they do, I’m not even entirely sure what it is.” Manon explained, “They leave straight from work to go do whatever, she won’t be back for at least another couple hours.”

user01 dann/n date, i repeat, DANN/N DATE

user02 manon’s their love child fs she’s a child of marriage

user03 this just healed the dann/n shipper in me

user04 manon try not to get fired challenge part 9283663

“Wait, am I not supposed to talk about that?” Manon slapped a hand over her mouth, “Oh f--Damn it, they’re gonna kill me.” She held a finger up to her lips, making a model face, “None of ya’ll heard that, don’t come for me. HYBE, if you watching this, you didn’t see nothin’.”

user05 ofc manon would be the one who exposes them

user06 manon’s just one of us in disguise i swear

user07 i am not fucking normal about any of this yall too calm

“Nevermind, guys! Daniela and y/n are not doing anything, I am alone in my house right now because everybody is out together,” Manon tried covering up, “Anyway, what’s ‘skib-bi-dee’? Wait, somebody said ‘you’re so sigma’. Is that good? Megan, is being sigma good?” she yelled.

The redhead’s voice, muffled, rang, “Don’t fall for it, Manz.”

“y/n is Dani’s huzz? Megan, what’s ‘huzz’?” Manon called again, but instead of yelling back, Megan popped her head through the doorway after a brief pause.

“I told you to stop falling for those, stop reading those aloud,” Megan scolded, “ain’t nobody have a huzz under this roof.”

user08 megan that’s cap and yk it

user09 no way all seven fine shyts don’t got a huzz

user10 atp i’m much more shocked when they deny dann/n allegations than if they’d confirm them

user11 so can i be y/n’s huzz

“No, y/n’s off limits, ya’ll.” Megan bent down to read over Manon’s shoulder. The older skimmed the comments, a look of concentration across her face as she squinted her eyes to scan the words. “‘Megan, you won’t slick, just drop the Dann/n lore already’? Oh my God, ya’ll really don’t give up, do you?”

Manon snorted, “Stubborn, but smart.”

Megan elbowed the older, the chat making fun of the loud whine the Ghanaian woman let out.

“Anyway--y/n is strictly off limits. Her parents may not live here, but I will be the stay at home mom for as long as I need.” She gestured towards her eyes with her fingers, then back towards the phone. “I’m watching you thirsty boys and girls.”

user12 dani trained megan well

user13 dani take off the megan mask alr oml

user14 i’m a proud thirsty girl dw

“Yeah, she’s all mine anyway.” Manon pursed her lips, looking the camera up and down in a jokey judgemental way.

daniela <3 you better watch your mouth bannerman

[ dann/n is real. dann/n is real. dann/n is real. dann/n is real. ]

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip four: [ YT VIDEO ] MAMA Performance BTS

“Come on, mami, you need to stay hydrated,” Daniela called, handing you her water bottle as you collapsed to the floor with your hand rested over your head, shielding your sensitive eyes from the fluorescent light. “I don’t want you falling sick before we actually get to do this onstage… I’d be too worried about you to put on a good show.”

[ the way mami rolls off her tongue i need her NOW ]

“I’m sure you would,” You rolled your eyes playfully, earning a slick eyebrow raise from the blonde. She took a step closer to you, crossing her arms. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

You scoffed, smirking. “Really, Dani? When have you ever had a problem with me rolling my eyes before.”

She looked down at you, her arms crossed and her head cocked to the side. She raised an eyebrow at your response, watching as you rose from your sprawled position on the floor. You sat up, resting your hands behind your back. You bit your lip, the cameraman zooming in on your expression before pulling out just in time to catch Daniela’s jaw clench.

[ omg ik they freaky as fuck on the low ]

“Since I’m trying to take care of you.” She waved the bottle before your face again. “So drink up, mami.”

Silence engulfed the two of you for a moment, only the muffled voices of your bandmates from afar could be heard. You grabbed the bottle from her hands, twisting the cap open and taking a sip. Once you’d swallowed, you open your mouth, as if to show the blonde still standing above you that you had finished drinking like she wanted you to.

“Happy now, Dani?”

[ LIKE COME ON WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ]

She smiled, satisfied. “Good, now get up. I’m fixing that little kink you have in that one move.”

You furrowed your eyebrows; “What kink?”

She grabbed your hand, yanking you up with ease. You let her take the bottle from your hand, tossing it aside before she fixed the low waist of her pants. “The strange little jut you do when we go down. Come on, I want you to look perfect.”

You gently shoved her in the shoulder. “Are you implying I’m not already perfect? Jerk.”

“I’m not implying, mami. I’m telling you straight up, ‘you’re not perfect’.” She chuckled, flashing you that dimpled smile. Even the Katseye editor seemed to be making fun of the way you two were bantering with so much chemistry. “Ow!--Okay, okay, I was just joking around, y/n, please! You know I hate when things are perfect, it’s the little imperfections that gives things personality.”

“Nice save, Avanzini. You get that from your perfect little book of inspirational thoughts?” you feigned annoyance, “But since you’re so eager to perfect me, then let’s do it.”

As you tied your hair up, the camera focused on Daniela behind you, she watched you do your thing with a small smile, her eyes softening as she grabbed your hips to guide you into whatever position the dance asked of you.

[ i screamed without the s they’re definitely a thing bro… ]

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ ❪ 𝖈alliope 𝖘peaks! ❫ 。the last one genuinely had me smiling at my phone because I WISH DANIELA AVANZINI WAS ACTUALLY REAL AND NOT JUST A FIGMENT OF ALL OUR IMAGINATIONS😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔

#katseye #katseye x reader #daniela avanzini #daniela avanzini x reader #daniela x reader #katseye imagines

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lolsmiley · 6 months ago

Note

Frat bro Quinn Fabray 👀

nerd reader in mind but yk.. headcanons lowkey?? Yeah…

frat!quinn never texts first, but if you take longer than an hour, she’ll send you a snap of her middle finger

calls you nerd so much (even if you aren’t) you’re convinced she doesn’t even remember your real name.

you’re her favorite person to bother.

picks you up and throws you over her shoulder way too often.

presents you as her girl to literally everyone.

holds your hand but denies it every time. (“i’m just keeping you from getting lost, nerd. get over yourself.”)

flirts with everyone but it’s your waist she sneaks an arm around when she’s drunk.

sometimes you wonder when she’s gonna break up with you because she seems to take everything as a joke, but then she does things like walking you to your dorm or claims she “just happened to be there” when she shows up after your exams with food.

…man spreading…

morning sex 🙂‍↕️

her, half-drunk on the warmth of the morning sunlight peaking through the curtains, lounges in bed next to you. she stretches lazily, letting out a soft hum as she looks over at you, her gaze locked on your barely awake form.

“baby,” she murmurs, her voice still thick with sleep but filled with that same commanding confidence you know too well. “you look so gorgeous.”

you blink at her, still groggy, and glance down at yourself—your comfy, oversized pajamas, the ones you’ve had for years. snorting, you mumble “i’m in my pajamas?”

she smiles, her fingertips rest on your stomach briefly before she kisses your shoulder and slide under the soft fabric. “exactly, do you— just look so fine all the time?” she whispers and you can’t help but roll your eyes at her, but there’s a flush creeping up your neck as she leans in closer

“i’m obsessed with you,” she says softly, with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “you have no idea.”

you try to keep a straight face, but the way she looks at you, the way her hand moves gently over your side, makes it almost impossible to resist. “you’re crazy,” you mutter.

quinn just chuckles, letting her head fall back against the pillow as she reaches down to take her shirt off. “and you look too pretty for me to do nothing about it.”

#quinn fabray x reader #glee x reader

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lolsmiley · 7 months ago

Text

XOXO, UR ANNOYING SPIDEY — M.S.

'' every time i'm walkin' out , i can hear you tellin' me to turn around .ᐣ.ᐟ ''

── • when the friendly neighborhood spider-girl find ways to annoy you, with love of course!

── • fluff , taking care of wounds , kissing (poorly written imo) , one argument (hurt/comfort)

── • thought i'd switch up my style for a min and see how it looks. divider cr: @cafekitsune

── ♪ now playing : sunflower – post malone, swae lee

🕸️ .WEBSTRING. ゜– prologue

"LOOK AT HER! ISN'T SHE SO PRETTY?" hanni points to one of the cheerleaders, totally enamoured by her beauty. frankly, you couldn't care less because you were too busy thinking about a certain ginger cheerleader who was currently missing from the sidelines. hanni notices your distracted behavior and smiles smugly at you. "you miss megan don't you?" she wiggles her eyebrow in amusement like what she said was the funniest thing ever.

you snap your head towards her with a sharp glare, your eyes narrowed and threatening– with no actual malicious intent. "shut up, no i don't. you're getting the wrong idea," you argued. your chin was on the palm of your hand, your elbow resting on your knee. hanni only rolls her eyes and goes back to watching the game.

"what are you thinking of then?" she questions. you merely shrug.

"the cheerleaders are about to perform but she's not here."

"mm, sad you can't see her dance around?" now it was your turn to roll your eyes, your free hand coming up to push her head away. "it's not like that," you say. "i'm gonna go to the bathroom." you got up from the bleachers and left hanni alone to mumble insults by herself. upon entering the restroom, you saw megan trying to get out of a– spider-girl suit? why in the world would she have that?

"shit, shit, i'm gonna be so late," she rambles, unaware of your presence. when she turned around to be met with your face, her eyes widened in shock and her lips parted. "you're not... you're not supposed to see this.."

"you're spider-girl?" you point an accusing finger at her as if she wasn't wearing the suit right in front of your eyes. "i can explain!" megan exclaims. "what's there to explain, you're literally wearing–"

"ok, later! i'm gonna be late to the cheer performance. can you just... help me out of this?" she pleads, holding both of her hands up as she tried to reason with you. "i don't get out of this suit well under pressure."

"...yeah, i-i guess." you walk over to her and began to help her get out of the suit. once she was out, she looks more like a high schooler in her cheer uniform than some superhero saving the city. "i'll pay you back somehow, uh..."

"yn."

"yn! i'll pay the favor back soon," she promised. "you save the city already, there's no need–" you were interrupted by megan.

"no! no, i should! i can, uhm, swing you around the city if you want." the offer was tempting, but with your fear of heights, you weren't exactly sure. "think about it! thank you, again." she stuffs the suit back into her backpack and dashed towards the door. before fully leaving, she pauses and looks back with a smile on her face. "see you around, pretty?"

you almost choked on air when she called you that. it was totally out of the blue! "okay..." you nod. when she finally left, you let out a shaky breath, your hand clamping over your mouth. you can see the pinkish tint of your cheeks through the mirror, and you can feel the warmth and your heart beating through your chest. megan was so smooth for someone with no conscience of their actions, and it somehow made you a blushing mess. "how annoying."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

🩹 .ADHESIVE. ゜

THREE KNOCKS ON YOUR WINDOW distracted you from your textbooks. it was weird, and fairly creepy, that something was knocking on your window considering how late it was. you grab one of your heavy dictionaries and got up from your seat, holding the book near yourself as you lifted your blinds. it was a dumb move but the person outside was even dumber. "what're you doing here, spidey?" you asked after you opened the window, seeing megan standing there, clutching her side.

"oh? nickname basis already?" megan chuckles, but it sounded weak. she was a coughing fit not even a few seconds later. even breathing made her chest hurt. "you said you're in a medical program right?" you nod, unsure of what megan wanted from you. "can you help me?"

"do you always need help?"

"i'm serious! look!" she shows you the deep cut underneath her hand, blood dripping down her fingers as she held her side. your eyes widened in concern and you immediately pull her in, opening the window wider for her to enter. "what the fuck did you do?" you exclaimed while your eyes took in all of the scrapes and bruises. megan only shrugs, and you fight back every urge to hit her.

"i saved the day?"

"yeah, no shit sherlock. it was rhetorical." not wanting blood to stain your bed, you sat her down on your chair at your desk. fortunately, you kept a first aid box in your drawer. "don't make too much noise. my parents are asleep and they don't need to know spider-girl is in my room."

"you got it, ma'am." her hand came up to do a salute but it was hurting too much to keep it there. "ow.."

"i need this suit off," you said, but the smug grin and teasing look on megan's face makes you want to punch her. "stop with that look. i'm being deadass right now. i can't treat your wounds correctly."

"okay, okay, sorry..." it took about five minutes to get her out of the suit, four minutes longer compared to the first time, mostly due to how she was whining in pain. by the time the suit was off, she was left in a t-shirt and shorts. "jesus, you look like adam sandler," you pointed out.

"was that necessary?" megan frowned.

"no, but it had to be said." you opened the first aid box and grabbed a nearby cloth, making sure it's clean before putting it on her cut and applying slight pressure onto the wound. megan winces in pain, throwing her head back on the chair.

"i'm being as gentle as i can, you crybaby. stay still!" you scolded. when the bleeding was reduced to a minimum, you removed the bloody cloth from her cut, grimacing upon seeing the fabric soaked in red fluid. "oh my god.." you toss the cloth somewhere else, deciding it'll be a future you problem. right now, you're focused on wrapping bandages around her.

you lift her shirt, ordering her to hold it up for you, before grabbing the roll of bandages in the med kit. you unroll it and placed it over her wound, wrapping around her stomach a few times. once done, you got up and went over to your closet, getting one of your oversized shirts for megan– since she was taller than you by a whole lot. you toss her the shirt and turned around to let her change.

"you don't have to turn around, y'know?" she said while putting on the shirt.

"i feel obligated to," you shrugged. "that's stupid," she laughed. "ok, you can turn around now." you turned around to face her but all the air gets knocked out of your lungs. who knew she would look nice in your clothes, let alone look better in it than you do. "what? do i look pretty?" megan taunted.

"yeah– no. what?" you stuttered, blinking a couple times to get your act together. she only chuckles and shake her head, leaning back into the chair. you noticed how her face was pretty messed up and felt the need to take care of that too. "how well do you do with rubbing alcohol?" you ask vaguely. she seemed to have gotten the memo based on how terrified she looked.

"no! no. no. we're not doing that." she tried to protest but you were already soaking a cotton ball with the liquid. "yn..." she begged, clasping her hand together. "you don't have to be so cruel!"

"except for the fact i'm not cruel? you're just whiny." you dab at a cut on her cheek, and a hiss comes through her lips, her fingers gripping onto the arms of the chair to keep herself from whacking your arm away. "spidey, i swear to god if you don't sit still..." your patience was thinning at her squirming, but a part of you couldn't help but feel bad. "come on, i promise it'll be over in a jiffy."

megan was hesitant but eventually nods, giving into your sweet coaxing. over the course of about three minutes, megan felt like she was traveling to and back from hell. the burns of the alcohol was seeping into the cuts around her face, a deep frown implanting itself onto her forehead. "is it done? are we done? am i done?"

"almost." you throw the cotton ball into the trash, taking a mental note to throw away the trash and cloth in the morning. "just a few more small bandaids and you can rest." megan whines as you began to placed tiny bandaids on her wounds, wanting the night to be over with. "there. now, we're officially done."

megan internally cheers but remembered she has to go back home. maybe she could've treated her own wounds at her place instead of being fifteen minutes away from the comfort of her bed. "can i sleep over?" your head snaps towards her, a bewildered look in your eyes. you've never agreed to any of this and only did it out of the kindess of your own heart. so why couldn't you deny her request?

"...yeah. sure. you've had enough on your plate for one night." you went over to your bed, fixing up a couple things to make space for her. you placed a pillow and a blanket on the floor next to your bed. "i'll sleep on the floor."

"what? why? it's your bed," megan argued, getting up from the chair, putting the pillow and blanket back on the bed. "it'll be fine, right?" you couldn't come up with an excuse as to why sleeping in the same bed would be a bad idea, so you gave in. "guess not..." you mumble. you climbed in first, your side pressed against the wall as you tried to keep a reasonable amount of space between you two.

megan giggled and got in afterwards, staying on her side of the bed. there was an awkward moment until megan looks at you and opens her arms. you stared at her in disbelief, but you also wanted to be held by her. "come here," she beckoned. you shake your head and she kept persisting. it went back and forth for a while until megan had enough and pulled you in herself, tucking your head in her chest. "see? was it that hard?" she teased when she felt you melt into her.

"shut up, you're so annoying."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

💬 .FIRST QUARREL. ゜(suggestive)

MEGAN WAS TOO PROTECTIVE. she was constantly checking up on you during patrol or getting distracted trying to see if you're safe or not, resulting in her getting heavily injured. you were flattered at first, but it has gotten way too out of hand. you couldn't even go out with her not watching your every move from a nearby rooftop or whatnot!

you were walking in the streets, your mind wandering of how you could talk about this to her, ignoring the buzzing of your phone. suddenly, a loud noise roared behind you and a loud stomp made it feel like an earthquake was happening. you turned around to see some funny looking guy in a suit the size of hulk, his vision trained on you.myou swallowed hard, your feet slowly backing up with every step the villain took towards you.

spider-girl swings in a second later, her foot colliding with his face, sending him down. the fall was quite hard since the suit was heavy and practically made out of metal. megan quickly rushed over to you, pulling you into the nearby alleyway. "what're you doing? i texted you multiple times to go somewhere safe!"

"well i didn't see them! so stop blaming me so much!" you snapped, your hands shoving her chest, pushing her back. she moves your hand away a little roughly. "if you checked your phone, you would've!" she argues.

"megan, have you ever thought that you're too protective? because you are! every waking moment is you checking if i'm okay when i am!" you let out a frustrated huff, your hands on your hips. "it's getting annoying."

"i'm just watching out for you! you're a huge target since an enemy saw you with me!" her voice falters for a moment before she recollected herself. "i almost lost you once, and i'm not taking any more risks!" she referred to when you got kidnapped and held hostage, which made you end up in the hospital with serious injuries. you were barely breathing when she found you. "if i had arrived a minute later then, you wouldn't be here right now."

"that was then. spidey, it's been six months–"

"six months or not, it could've happened again today!" she raised her voice, surprising you a little. "you don't know the other universe i've been to, and in every single one of them, you weren't here with me." her resolve was slightly cracking, her chest rising and falling with every sentence she shouted at you. your lips parted in shock, your brain short-circuiting for a hot minute.

"i..." you stammered. you remember her talking about it a while ago, and how it scared her for a long period of time. you knew it was a sensitive topic. your hands cautiously held her face, your thumb rubbing her cheek over her mask. "but i'm here with you, right now, in this universe." she leaned into your touch while listening to your words carefully. "you don't have to worry so much."

"but i have to."

you shake your head, your fingers lifting her mask to only reveal her lips. "no you don't. deep down, if you think i'm safe and sound, then i most definitely am, okay?" you lean in and place a soft, reassuring kiss on her lips. you were about to pull away when megan places her hands on your waist, pulling you closer to her body. your eyes flutter closed and you relaxed into the kiss, your arms wrapping themselves around her shoulders.

you tilt your head to the side as your arms tightened around megan, feeling like there was too much space between you. a small whimper escaped her lips and it drove you crazy. the sound of your lips on each other filled the quiet alleyway. your nails dug into her back when she broke away and trailed down to your neck, her lips peppering featherlight kisses onto the curve of your jaw.

her thumbs snuck its way under your shirt, grazing the soft skin of your stomach. you arched your back a little further, letting her pull you flush against her front. your hands slid down slowly, from her back to her shoulders to her chest, clutching on her suit as you move your head to give her easier access to your neck. until a loud ringing tone from megan's phone broke you two away from each other. megan groans and takes her phone out, seeing it's the police needing her to help clear up the scene and to calm down the civilians.

"well... i gotta go..." she began, looking at you with a knowing look. "but..."

"you know where you should be tonight," you said. she grins and plants another kiss on your lips. "you bet i do."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

🤍 .ALL YOURS. ゜(slightly suggestive at end)

A SOFT KNOCK AT YOUR WINDOW let you know that megan was outside on the fire escape right outside your room. you smile to yourself, hanging the towel you were using to dry your hair over your chair. you walked over to the window, opening your blinds and lifting the glass upwards.

"hey, ma," megan greeted when you opened the window. she was upside down, her hands holding onto the web at held her up. you only rolled your eyes playfully, your elbows coming to rest on the window frame. "what're you doing here, spidey?" you ask but there was no signs of you wanting her to leave.

"what? can't i see my favorite girl?" her head leaned in and placed a soft, lingering kiss on your lips despite her mask still fully covering her face. you giggle at the absurdity of it all, your hands reaching up to lift her mask to reveal her lips.

"kiss me properly, idiot," you demanded playfully. megan listens and leaned in again, your lips officially connecting with hers. the kiss was tender, gentle– anything you would describe a kiss full of love. when you break away, you could only laugh, your head dipping and your shoulders shaking. "i can't with you being upside down," you chuckled.

"i can get down if you want." she didn't even wait for your answer when she let go of the web and landed on the fire exit with a small thud. you moved aside to let her climb through the window, making sure to make as little noise as possible so you both don't wake up your parents. "how's my angel?" she questions, her arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you into another kiss.

"never been better," you giggled, your head tilting up to meet her lips. "what about my pretty girl? everything alright? no injuries?"

"all clean and safe." she raised her hands up in mock surrender, showing no signs of serious wounds. your smile only widened and you engulf her into a hug. she hugged you back immediately, her arms wrapping around your torso, her hands resting on the small of your back. she buried her nose into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo mixed with your natural calming scent. "you smell so good, baby."

"do i?" you ask, flattered. she nods, her finger brushing away the stray hairs from your face. "i need to dry my hair."

"no, keep it like this. at least for a couple more minutes," she pleaded, smelling your hair again. "it smells really good."

"i can always give you my shampoo."

"mm, i like it better on you." you laugh, your head falling onto her shoulder. "have i ever told you how annoying you are, spidey?" you ask. megan pretends to ponder before lamely putting up her index finger like a nerd. "you have. multiple times. but i'm your annoying spidey, aren't i?"

"mhm," you hum softly, pecking her on the lips. "you're all mine."

"well i hoped i was." she gently places a hand on your chest, pushing back onto your bed. she crawled on top of you right after, her lips already sucking on your neck hungrily. "i'm afraid your hair won't be dry for a while," she murmured, her voice muffled by your skin.

"i'm fine with that."

– fin. –

@cinnamanz @ninguitar @lararajjj i lowk forgot my taglist

#katseye fic #katseye megan #megan skiendiel #katseye #katseye x reader #megan katseye #katseye imagines #katseye x fem reader #megan skiendiel x reader

486 notes · View notes

lolsmiley · 7 months ago

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ SPUN TOGETHER ᝰ! L.R.

your superhero love story with spider-man lara!

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ ❪ ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠. ❫ ｡ spiderman!lara x f!r 𖥔 fluff, spiderman + idol au ── disclaimers: mentions of violence, injuries, kissing, slow burn ／ ℭatalogue

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who is your roommate in the dorm, the hilarious and talented woman who loves showing you brainrot because she is helplessly, chronically online and absolutely adored the way you’re not as involved in internet culture

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA, whose favourite thing to do is cuddle you in her bed, watching bad reality tv together while everyone else in the dorm is deep in slumber

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA, the vocal prodigy and core member of rising global pop group, katseye, whom you sometimes catch sneaking out the door late at night, then coming back in through your window early the next morning. you never ask her about it, not wanting to get her in trouble. you just assumed she had a girl/boyfriend she was sneaking out to see

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who sometimes gets random cuts and bruises from “dance practice” and tells you it’s nothing

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA, whose favourite party trick was to stand back facing you and asking you to throw empty beer bottles at her, assuring you and swearing on every god she could that she would be able to dodge it before it hits her. you’re always too scared you’ll hurt her, but end up doing it anyway and it never failed to impress you the way she just catches it in her hand no matter what angle you throw it at

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who only lets you call her by her nickname and gets visibly annoyed if anybody else uses it

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who has the most amazing music taste. one of her love languages being gift-giving, you have a collection of songs she made or compiled into cds for you. she had zero art skills, but would still handmake the covers every time. “happy birthday special girl, i love you. xoxo, raja”

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who shoved her mask under her pillow and puts a hoodie and sweats on to cover up her suit when she heard you coming down the hall

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who calls you paranoid when you ask her why she refused to uncross her arms, but then instantly feels bad when you leave the room with a questioning look

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who knows you hate spiders (lol)

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who has a sixth sense when it comes to you feeling down. always the first to notice when you’d come home from practice sluggish and off. when you’re feeling burnt out from work, she always leaves your favourite candy bar on your bed to find when you come home. she would never come home with you after schedules, but she made sure you always woke up to her greeting you with a fresh, steaming cup of coffee--just the way you liked it

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who has to wash the blood out of her suit in the shower with her so she wouldn’t get caught

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA, whom disappears in the middle of rehearsal or won’t return from a bathroom break during your appearance on national tv for some unknown reason. when she’d come back, her hair would be slightly ruffled, she was often out of breath and her root disheveled. the girls always teased her about looking like she just “got some”

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who doesn’t like leaving you in the dark, but would never forgive herself if you got hurt because of her

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who is your rock, your heart and soul, your partner in crime. music was a cutthroat industry, and she was your single greatest inspiration as an artist

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who surprises you with silly little dates--which she insisted are just “chances to escape work” and you’d always feel just the slightest bit disappointed at her reaction to you teasing her about it being a date

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who takes you out to the movies, buys you dinner and pays for everything--but no, not a date, just some good ol’ roommate hospitality

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who would drop everything, including being spider-woman, if you asked her to. she adored her job protecting the city of Los Angelas, but she adored you more

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who can’t help but feel a little guilty when you ranted on about how dangerous spider-woman’s duties were, and how you would be so constantly worried for her if you knew her in real life

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who calls you a million pet names, but only ever sticks to one for the other girls--pretty girl, sweet thing, beautiful, lovely, hon, doll, peach, angel… her favourite definitely being “my girl”

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA, your kind, easygoing roommate, sending you mixed signals and keeping you up at night with some of the things she says: “don’t even worry about the bill, pretty, i’ll get it.”/“come on, sweet thing, i ran you a bath.”/“everything will be okay, i’m here for you.”/“i love you.”

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who just couldn’t keep her mind off you, even when she’s sitting alone on the ledge of some building looking down at LA’s busy city

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA realizing she was falling in love with you when you locked eyes with her one time at a crime scene you were unluckily caught up in. her heart sunk, and she didn’t even hesitate choosing to whisk you away instead of staying to make sure the perp was rightfully arrested

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who nearly revealed her identity when she went out of her way to make sure you were so far away from the dangers of the mugging happening three streets over. you had so many questions for spider-woman when she slung you to safety, and definitely lots of gratitude for her dedication to protecting you and the city, but she couldn’t answer in fear of you recognizing her smooth, soothing voice

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who knows you’re growing suspicious of her behaviour when you started asking her about her absence and odd injuries more often

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA having to make a tough decision once when dealing with the Lizard. you were caught in the crossfire, on the way home from an individual schedule at Geffen. it was pure chaos, the girls were soundly at home, so lara hoped for the best and prayed you were with them safely harboured at the dorm. though many people were injured and a lot of damage was caused, spider-woman had to let the lizard escape her bloody clutches because she got an emergency phone call from the hospital

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA, your emergency contact, dropped everything and showed up to the hospital within minutes

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who lousily jumped into her civilian clothes in a supply closet, her top backwards and her fly unzipped to run through the halls and knock over doctors and nurses like her life depended on it and ambush the receptionist asking which one was your room

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA was super relieved when she bursted into your room. you jumped, your hand over your racing heart as she slowly stepped into the room towards your doctor, whom shot the red-headed woman a disapproving glare for the havoc caused. but she didn’t care, all she needed to see was that you were awake and well

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who nearly felt herself cry when you told her you just got hit in the head by a street sign, that the head injury you sustained would be gone within the next week or so. you started joking about the fans wondering if sophia was truly turning into a strict mother, but when she didn’t laugh at your teasing the way she usually did, you noticed her jaw was tight and her eyes brimmed with tears

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA had a hundred injuries of her own on her body, the most prominent one at the corner of her lips

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who brushed you off when you reached out to cradle her cheeks, asking what had happened. her behaviour was really worrying you now, and you can’t let yourself believe the “being clumsy at dance practice” excuse anymore. she simply grabbed your wrist gently and moved away from your palms, asking your doctor so many questions you were sure the man would quit after that day

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who insisted on carrying your bag out the ER. she wouldn’t take no for an answer when she took off her black and red racing jacket for you, even when you told her you were kind of hot in the Californian sun

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA refused to let you do anything when you got home. the girls bombarded you with questions and gestures of concern, and whilst you were distracted in answering the dozens of questions thrown your way, she went off to make you a cup of herbal tea; the kind her mother gave her a box of for when she’s sick and injured

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who froze when she heard you talking about your encounter with spider-woman the week prior

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who felt her chest tighten and her palms sweat when you mentioned how tender and caring she was, contrary to what the media had portrayed her to be

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who cowered in the kitchen, just listening to you talk about your hero in such an admirable light. when daniela made a comment about spider-woman not being able to protect you this time, she felt angry at herself

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who couldn’t sleep that night

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who laid awake, you nuzzling your face into her neck in her bed after you fell asleep to some ridiculous new dating show. she breathed in the faint scent of your shampoo, watching your chest rise and fall rhythmically, she caressed the bandage on your forehead. she kissed it, really debated if her vigilante alter ego was worth getting you hurt. ultimately, she decided to keep herself--or, at least, the web-slinging version of her--out the spotlight so she could rid the target on her back from the lizard. at least until you healed

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA, the city’s friend and foe, getting called a coward and menace in the media for going into hiding after letting the lizard destroy the serene city of la. rising global pop sensation, lara raj, however, was more active in her career than ever. but fans would point out when she’d visibly wince at their shows or when her mood would sour at the mere mention of your absence from activities due to your recovery

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who is the first comment, first like on your weverse updates for the fans. “checking in today… net manon of katseye today and she spat in my face when i asked for a picture. [ attached 0.5 photo of manon bringing you food in bed ]” immediately liked by lara raj within the minute

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA’s suit sits in her closet collecting dust

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA going against everything she believed in as she watched the crime rates spike on the news, but the feeling goes away when she looks over at you, the scar on your head slowly healing

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA finally getting eight hours of sleep a night with you--her best friend, so she claimed--beside her in her bed every night. she wouldn’t let you sleep alone in case you suffered any side effects from your concussion

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who finally broke the justice drought

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA couldn’t sit idly by anymore. you were finally fully healthy, your head cured and pads given by your doctor. when you finally resumed activities and schedules with katseye, lara was starting to be weird again

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA, who you trusted with your life, was eating less and sleeping more the rare chance the two of you had down time together

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who doesn’t stay awake long enough for you to make fun of horrid dating shows after dark, who is gone longer for bathroom breaks or to run errands, who isn’t sporting that cute smile as much as she used to anymore

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who you caught sneaking into Geffen’s bathroom window in her suit. she left thirty minutes ago to touch up her makeup before you began briefings for the next comeback. when you asked everybody if they knew whether or not lara was okay, none of the girls and staff seemed to know, so you left for the only bathroom on the floor, only to be met with the sight of your roommate, your best friend, your lara raj contorting her body through the tiny window of the bathroom

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA, who immediately shot a web at the bathroom door to stick it shut

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA thrusting a hand over your lips as soon as you open your mouth to let out a surprised shriek. she shushed you, tossing her mask onto the counter. she held your eyes, breathing in deeply and encouraging you to follow her. the moment you calmed down, you could only hold your wide eyes, your jaw dropped to the ground. you took a moment to take in the state she was standing before you in

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA’s suit was torn, blood gushing from cuts and gashes along her supple skin. dirt and blood smeared across her cheeks, her lips, a cut slit straight through her eyebrow. you couldn’t believe your eyes--who could look that sexy while bleeding to death?

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who stood and took every slap and hit you threw at her, words coming out your mouth like vomit. when you got the resentment out your system, she finally got a chance to explain her odd behaviour

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA, who couldn’t conjure a single, coherent thought when you practically pounced on her. you kissed her, lips moving against hers feverishly. she tasted bloody, but her lips were so soft, so plush and inviting. you didn’t want to, but you pulled away to wrap your arms around her neck to embrace her tightly, as tight as your arms could hold her

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who winced at you putting pressure on her injuries, but locked you in her arms as you whispered apologies and tried to take a step back

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA who, despite being half-dead and bleeding onto the bathroom floor, couldn’t stop smiling as you told her off about being stupid and putting herself in so much danger. she just admired your features, the slight crease in your eyebrows and the way your nose twitched as you tried tending to her injuries. it was obvious she was still drunk on the simple kiss you had given her, but your emotions overwhelmed you. you were relieved, you weren’t angry

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA finally telling you everything

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA thanking all the gods she could when you told her you weren’t upset, but thankful you finally got the explanation you wanted. you quickly ushered her home, telling the girls she wasn’t feeling well and disappearing off into the streets of LA . you helped patch her up at home, and you were fascinated by her high pain tolerance. it wasn’t awkward between the two of you, when you begun asking her the many many questions you inevitably had, she only stared back at you with a small, loving smile as you cleaned her wounds

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA on the front page, right next to katseye making headlines in the music section of the paper. you, in secret, hung the cover on the wall of your shared room

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA telling you she loved you, that she does her job as spider-woman because she wanted the city to be safe for you to live. she kissed you goodnight, on the lips, that night, as you drifted off to the sound of 90 day fiancé

✵ SPIDERMAN!LARA, your hero, in and out of her suit <3

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ ❪ 𝖈alliope 𝖘peaks! ❫ 。 i really enjoyed this format. experimented with it and lowkey kinda dig it. got inspired by @nakylvr’s spiderman!megan posts so lmk if you guys liked this one and i might do a spiderman!lara as your gf ver. happy reading! xx

#katseye #katseye x reader #katseye imagines #lara raj x reader #lara x reader #lara katseye #katseye lara #lara raj

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