#tiny loop au

[daily-sifloop]

Please give a tiny muffin to tiny loop :3

Day 70: EAT! EAT! EAT!

[keferon]

I don't know if you know this but, Blurr not being able to find Swindle in Armada because there are so many 'fake' ones is so funny to me cuz-

This is the actual Swindle in Armada (the minicon on Star's shoulder) Oh my god so Starscream really just stole Blurr's man like that, adopted him any everything just so Blurr has to call him dad-*gets shot*

OH MY GOD I FORGOT THAT ARMADA SWINDLE IS STARSCREAM’S MINICON OH THIS HAS SO MUCH POTENTIAL JSKSJCNFJMFNV

And that potential completely different depending on the timeline. Imagine if Blurr gets in the Armada universe after IDW? He is not only depressed because all his life was left in another universe but also like. There’s this bot who LOOKS like weird Swindle and absolutely adores Blurr but it’s actually Sideswipe??

And then Starscream joins the Autobots and brings all his minicons with him and like

Blurr: oh I see you brought those three little guys with you. How cute

Starscream: Oh no. Four actually. Those three are Sonar, Jetstorm and Runway. (Takes a tiny red guy out of nowhere) And Swindle.

Blurr: Ah……..hi

Mini Swindle: beep boop boop beb pebpub

Blurr: Smoking isn’t enough I need to fall down the stairs

OR! If we take this to the time when Swindle already found his way into the isekai???? Imagine IDW Swindle pressing “the travel button” or smth and thinking it can’t be too weird right? WRONG. GET SHRUNK LOSER. You are now palm sized and cant properly talk. The comedy possibilities are fucking ENDLESS

[adamoose-art]

Isat Doodle Dump #2!

I've been excited to share this page for so long!

Minor Act 3 and 4 spoilers, (accidental) Act 6 spoiler (below the cut)

Click through for close ups of some of my favorites on this page! Doodles with text on them have alt text in case it's hard to read.

(accidental) two hats spoiler under cut

By the time I got to act 4 I had my theories, and this seemed so funny.

[fee-phy-fo-fum]

tried drawing a human loop and my friend promptly cursed me out for... (checks notes) making them attractive.

having a normal go at it

[tealgoat]

What’s Odile’s relationship with Loop like in ur au?

Idea and designs from the wonderful @wonder-of-the-stars !!

They get a nice slow friendship as a treat ❤️

Surprisingly being not stuck talking to yourself and only yourself can help a lot

Odile figures out loops whole deal semi quickly and they have a lot of talks

Not necessarily about *the* problem but just problems

[startagainaprologue]

Awawawa little. Ageswap AU thing I wrote in 2 seconds.. ageswap Bonnie and loop I think abt them

(“Candy for you!”) (You haven't given this to Loop before, not yet.) (You're sure they'll like it though, its cantaloupe flavor! All of the kids like it.) (…?) (“Loop?”) (They’re just… staring at it?) (Oh- OH CRAB THEY’RE CRYING??!?!!?) (“Ah, Loop are you-“) |”’m fine.”| (They shove the candy back into your hand) |”I just.. don’t like that flavor! That’s all!”| |”Shoo! Get it away from me! I don't want it!! Okay?”| (…) (You.. put the candy back in your pocket, for now.)

[fuumiku]

Roleplayer on cosplayer violence

"Your little collar's cute. Bet it's faux fur, hm?" "Well your ears are fake first of all-"

Watched a drawfee clip and the laicion brain fungus got to me again

[chimerahyperfix]

You’re looking for something— no, someone, too, aren’t you?

(I can’t comprehend how you understand what’s going on, with your lifeless shell. Craft as you are.)

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet (or chapter?) Thursday

Viper: Exodus

Jak, now a captain in Spargus's infiltration division, has been gathering people who have helped them in the past, and Daxter has convinced whole sections of the slums to trust the Wastelanders over the Grand Council. (LONG post warning, it's basically a whole chapter)

240 people crowded around the narrow road in front of the Naughty Ottsel, murmuring nervously to each other. They had been slowly preparing for this night for weeks -- hardly enough time to uproot an entire life. But then, many of them had been uprooted already. Many carried young children, only recently reunited with their families after Praxis's mass kidnapping orders during his hunt for Mar. They varied between terrified silence and hungry wailing as the people waited for their chosen leader to arrive.

It had been a difficult, and at times acrimonious, task choosing someone to lead them once beyond the walls for good. Fifty people had withdrawn from the evacuation entirely when a Lurker was ultimately chosen. But Brutter had lived among the people of the Water Slums for years. They knew him. They trusted him.

His deputy, the blonde barmaid from the pub, seemed like an odd choice at first. But as preparations progressed, it became clear that Tess had a way with people -- and with weapons. Her confidence put them all at ease.

The murmurs quieted when Tess appeared with Brutter, Jak, and Daxter. More people gathered in the pub doorway behind them to watch, but it was clear that they were on team "leaving Haven is mutiny or cowardice".

"This is everyone?" Brutter called, furrowing his fuzzy brow. "Water Slum friends?"

"Here!" One of his former neighbors called, waving from a section of the crowd.

"Good! Saltpeter Row?"

The inhabitants of the row houses made varying sounds of acknowledgement, and Brutter nodded, continuing to call out the names of streets who had agreed to join the secession.

"Morgan street!"

"Redcap Row!"

"Shark Flats!"

"4th Street!"

Only a few groups were unaccounted for in the end, though this wasn't as much of a surprise as expected. They'd known from the beginning that some would probably back out when it was time to go. Better the devil they knew than the one they didn't. But everyone else had shown up.

They shuffled restlessly, meager belongings in carts or on their backs, and waited to find out what was going to happen. Surely they weren't all going to walk to the abandoned temple!

Brutter nodded to Jak, and the boy stepped forward and raised his voice.

"Okay! Here's what's going to happen! Anyone with small kids or trouble walking is going to take the air train to the foot of the mountains. The Babak are waiting with balloons to get you to the temple. It's going to take a few trips, so don't crowd. You'll all get there, I promise."

Daxter took over as soon as Jak finished.

"Everybody else: we're formin' a convoy of four groups! If you know how to fight, yer on the outside of the column. If you don't, stay in the middle! We're gonna stop for breaks sometimes, but we're hiking straight through the Industrial Sector, folks. It's gonna be a good hour or two before we get everyone into the Power Station teleport ring."

Jak nodded and pointed left in the direction they'd be heading. "Tess will be leading Group 1 with the gyro-burster to clear out any threats ahead of us. Jinx is taking Group 2. Group 3, you're with Mogg and Grim. Everyone else, you're with me. For now, everyone with kids move to the right."

The shuffle was tedious, and it was close to ten minutes before everyone was divided into the five groups. The thirty-five people with elderly, children, and mobility issues huddled together as the rest split into crowds of roughly fifty each. Even fifty civilians was a massive number to protect from Deathbots and metalheads. Tess and Jak shot each other grim looks, each worrying about the same thing:

How many people were they going to lose on their way to the power station?

"I'm coming too!"

Jak turned to see Keira pulling her arm free of Samos's grip. His heart leapt: he'd hoped against hope that she would flee the city with them. That she would wrench herself out from under the sage's thumb.

"Keira, no!" Samos gasped, "This is madness!”

He turned a stern look to Jak. "This has gone too far, Jak! You are out of control!"

"Out of your control," Daxter corrected sharply, "That's what you mean, right?"

"You're leading these people to their deaths! I will not allow my daughter to be one of them!" Samos snapped.

Jak felt nerves crawl up his throat. He wanted to vomit. It didn't matter how confident he was as a Captain of Spargus, Samos had programmed his behavior for years and standing up to him was hard.

He swallowed back bile and cleared the trepidation from his throat.

"You didn't have a problem sending someone else's kid into hell for your own gain. You're not doing yourself any favors by waiting until now to have a problem with it."

Keira gestured to him. "See? Thank you, Jak."

"Keira, that's enough," said Samos sternly, "I know it seems harsh to you, but someday you will understand that I am simply doing what is best for you!"

"No, I'm doing what's best for me," Keira retorted, "I'm helping people."

"Keira, I forbid you to step out that door!" the sage cried in a panic.

Keira swung a bag up onto her shoulder.

"I'm no good to anyone in a gilded cage, kept out of danger. And you have no right to fight about it after what you put the boys through."

"Of course I have a right! You're my daughter!"

Keira set her jaw. She closed her eyes and took in a long, shaky breath. Then she stepped out the door.

"Goodbye, Daddy."

Tess squeezed her shoulder as she passed them to gather her platoon. "Hang in there, kiddo," she murmured.

Brutter also eyed her with sympathy as he followed.

"Let us go, friends!" He loudly croaked, "Before we are losing the moonlight!"

Jak frowned thoughtfully. "You got a gun?" he asked Keira quietly.

She shook her head, still trembling with the same adrenaline he felt.

"N-no. But I've got some EMP grenades I've been working on. In case of bots."

Jak's eyebrows rose, and he grinned. "Can't wait to see 'em."

"Yeah well. You probably won't have to.”

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

Two days after the exodus

"I hooked the generator up to the temple, so we should have working shields in a day or two." Keira collapsed onto the ledge beside Jak, utterly exhausted.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and dropped an impulsive kiss onto the crown of her head. "You're a miracle worker, you know that?"

The butterflies in Keira's stomach made an unwelcome encore appearance, beating their little wings to fan heat up into her cheeks. She liked this new Jak. He was more open with his feelings. Braver about touch. But Precursors if it wasn't an adjustment!

Still. She needed the comfort just now. Keira had just uprooted…everything, for the second time in her young life. She'd walked away from her own father, and no matter how justified she knew it was, it still hurt. She felt small, and lost, in a world far too large for her. Had she really stopped to fully count the cost of joining the formation of the refugee village?

Yes. She had. Keira forced her mind away from the betrayal in her father's eyes, back to the joy that was in Jak’s eyes when he whispered to her that he'd found freedom.

"I don't feel like a miracle worker," she confessed after a few minutes, "I feel like a fraud. I'm- I'm just shy of completely overwhelmed. We have almost nothing, and if Haven decides they don't like us being up here, I don't know how long my shields will even work. Why are they looking to me for all the solutions? Why not Brutter, or Tess?"

Jak made a sympathetic noise. "Yeah...I know how that feels. But apparently sixteen is "too young" to be carrying that kind of responsibility on your shoulders. So. I dunno, take it easy on yourself, I guess?"

Keira rested her head on Jak’s shoulder with a soft hmph, and noted with some amusement that she could hear how fast his heart was beating. Lucky for them Jak had already been in battle that day, clearing out the last metalheads, and had no more eco to react to the adrenaline. Dark Jak was much more snuggly than regular Jak, and much denser in mass, which made it fairly problematic if he happened to doze off while resting against her.

“Kee, I-”

Jak swallowed hard.

“I have to- we need- Mountain Clan is going to join the Wasteland Federation. You- everyone is going to have to get used to a new set of laws. A new. A new king.”

Keira winced. She'd had enough of overbearing authority figures.

“It's going to be…interesting,” she said begrudgingly.

“I have to report to him.” Jak sounded like he was trying to sound her out, gauge her reaction.

“I was going to call him tonight, actually. I just…I guess, don't freak out if he…when he gets here.”

Here? Keira sat up to look Jak in the eye.

“This king person is coming here?”

The buzz of the crickets down the slope seemed to rise, drowning out her thoughts. In a way, she'd known it had to be coming. Jak and Daxter wouldn't have been so insistent on evacuation if there wasn't actually a war coming. It just hadn't felt real.

She looked down at the tents and rudimentary huts their people -- Precursors, she had people now -- had spent the last two days setting up along the hill. So many people who couldn't fight, or wouldn't. If the Wastelanders really were a warrior people, would this king even accept them?

“He has to, Keira. Even if Haven hadn't-” Jak tensed, and a low anger rippled below his words. “Even if they hadn't tried to assassinate him, Damas would still have to come out here. He's the current head of the Federation, and all clans have to send representatives when someone threatens the whole.”

Leave it to Jak to speak of someone with that much power as casually as he spoke about Daxter.

“You all just call him by his name?”

Jak shrugged, and the grin he offered was a little sheepish. “Not to his face. Unless you're me, or Sig. Daxter could, he just likes to call him Spikes or King Lunatic instead. Damas doesn't mind.”

“Spikes?” Keira felt her eyebrows go up. "King Lunatic?!"

“You'll see when he gets here.”

Jak was entirely too calm about that. Keira grimaced, but reasoned that if he was more relaxed now than he was when talking about Ashelin or Samos, that had to be a promising sign, right?

“He um. He sounds…tough,” the girl said, gingerly searching for words. “Is…Is he-”

Keira gave up beating about the bush and decided to just ask the question honestly.

“Jak, you talk about him like you actually trust him. Do you?”

“With my life,” Jak answered, simply and openly.

“And I'd trust him with all of those people down there, more importantly. I'd trust him with Daxter’s life. With yours.”

What could she say to that? Even when they'd been little kids, when they had foolishly trusted Samos to have their best interests at heart, Jak hadn't trusted him around Daxter. And after the…the prison, Daxter was probably the only person Jak truly trusted. For some warrior king of a nation of Sigs to have earned Jak's faith so completely was hard to believe. Almost as hard to take as the respect in Jak’s voice when he so much as mentioned this man.

Who was this King Damas, and what had he done to make Jak of all people so devoted to him and his cause? And more importantly in Keira's mind, did he deserve Jak's loyalty?

“You look up to this guy,” she realized.

And Jak laughed. He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked embarrassed, and laughed.

“Yeah…I mean, I…yeah…he's kind of my hero.”

He covered his face abruptly as his ears burned scarlet.

“Don't you dare tell him I said that.”

“Oh right, because I'd totally get a chance to have a casual conversation with a king and squeal on you.” Keira rolled her eyes.

“If he's as cool as you think he is, maybe he already knows, anyway.”

“No!” Jak groaned, “Don't say that, I have an image to keep up!”

Keira cracked a smile and settled her head back onto Jak’s shoulder. His arm slipped around her waist, and she felt his cheek rest against her hair. An innocent closeness neither of them had felt in too many years, shared for a moment at the beginning of something new and a little frightening.

“When do you think your king will get here?”

Jak grinned into Keira's hair. She'd stopped calling Damas “this king”. The simple acknowledgement of how important he was to Jak felt a lot more validating than he'd anticipated.

“If I call him tonight, I'd say tomorrow evening at the latest. It's only about five hours from here to home by air train.”

Considering the commotion at dawn, when some hut building efforts were abandoned in favor of clearing a landing strip, Keira had her suspicions that the Wastelanders were already on their way before Jak ever placed that hushed and enthusiastic call.

“Clear the field!” Grim waved his arms wildly, scattering refugees into tents and back onto the rope bridge the Babak had built into the temple. “Make some room, everybody!”

Jak was out of his tent with Daxter on his shoulder before the craft had even begun its final approach. He darted to the edge of the makeshift runway and just waited. Brutter opened the door of his hut with a surprised croak, and Tess was already loosening her gun in her holster. Just in case.

There was a pit in Keira's stomach as she joined the people watching the air train land. This was it. Judgement Day.

Out of the air train seven heavily armored Wastelanders practically sauntered, six taking guard positions in a semicircle while the seventh strolled right up to where Jak stood ramrod straight.

It was unnatural, seeing Jak like that. Even more so seeing Daxter in the same attentive posture on his shoulder. Keira watched them nervously for cues.

Jak spoke about the leader of the Wastelander Federation like he was this great hero. Like he idolized the man. Keira suspected she'd get a better read on this new authority figure by observing how he spoke to the boys -- if he spoke to them directly at all.

The king of the desert was an imposing man wielding an elaborate staff. He didn't look like the type to suffer fools gladly. Keira watched his eyes sweep across the huts and lean-tos covering the slopes leading to the temple. They had already constructed fifteen small houses in the style of Sandover Village, and Vin and Keira had just finished setting up a basic eco grid for power. Was it good enough?

"By the forges boys!" The Wasteland king suddenly laughed aloud. "When you said you could find allies in the city, I thought you meant five or six, not an entire village!"

He clapped a hand to Jak’s unoccupied shoulder in a gesture Keira recognized -- with her share of bittersweet longing -- as pride.

"Welcome to Mountain Clan, sir," Jak answered, just as proud.

So. Jak wasn't exaggerating his admiration for this man. Not that Keira had thought he would. Jak wasn't prone to exaggeration and hyperbole. And while he still stood smartly at attention, if Keira looked closely she could see her friend practically vibrating with excitement. He behaved like a soldier -- the soldier Haven always wanted but could never have -- and yet at the same time he reminded Keira of nothing as much as a little boy whose parent had finally come home from a long journey.

That thought stuck in her mind as Brutter and Tess approached.

To her shock -- and the shock of the boys -- the Babak let out a jubilant cry when he recognized the man in armor.

"Brother Damas!" he trumpeted, catching the attention of the other Lurkers helping in the new village.

"Brother Damas lives! Our hearts are full!"

Damas looked taken aback for a moment, then a smile creased his weatherbeaten face and he reached out to clasp Brutter's forearm.

"You-! I remember you! It's been a long time, Bluefeather."

"Too long," Brutter croaked.

"Are your people safe?" Damas frowned. "I'm- I'm sorry. One operative wasn't enough to help free them. It was a poor repayment for the way you supported my family during the coup."

Sadly, the Babak leader shook his head. "We Lurkers were not saving your friends, Brother. We could not stop the executing after you exiled. Always my elders feel they failed you."

Damas squeezed the Lurker's thick forearm with an earnest expression. "You failed no one, Brother. Welcome to the Federation."

Beside them, Jak's face went from confusion to wonder to a barely restrained glee. Damas had organized the abolition efforts? That meant Jak had been working for Damas long before he ever heard the man's name! He exchanged excited looks with Daxter. This went beyond best case scenario for them. Their honorary tribe and their adopted people were now united.

"Now then!" Damas turned on his heel to raise an amused eyebrow at Jak.

"I've been getting extremely detailed reports from you, Captain. Come! Walk me through what you're doing up here!"

Jak practically scrambled to follow him, an almost silly grin stamped across his face. It made Keira's heart ache to realize she hadn't seen that smile since Sandover. Brutter broke into her thoughts with a gurgling chuckle.

"Once king, always king," he said fondly. "Brutter did not know he had offspring! Jak is very good son. Very loyal."

Keira jolted. "Offspring?! What do you mean?!"

Brutter looked confused, as though he thought his observation was obvious.

[arodykeism]

some bobbles (+ two unfinished things)

[cuteniarose]

Kat and Nia and their Multiverse of Madness

A masterpost for the intricate web of AUs co-created by @katkastrofa and yours truly, with linked art, fics and relevant posts for maximum convenience

(Compiled into one post mainly to help keep track of everything now that it's grown so big, but also specifically written out for @rokurookajima since she was interested. Will continue to be updated as things develop further)

Under the read more, because fair warning, this is LONG

MAIN VERSES:

We have many different AUs as part of our multiverse, but there are only two main ones, with the rest either being based on SotRL or a mix of it and FAtC:

Seeds of the Red Lotus – Suiren and Midori, my first OCs and Ming-Hua and Ghazan's children, grow up in Gaoling with their abusive paternal aunt, Haya (she wasn't abusive towards Ghazan, which is why he was inclined to trust her with his kids, but her grudge against him for abandoning her in favour of the RL + prejudice against the Swamp tribes, where Ming-Hua is from, because the illness that killed her parents started there, led her to taking out her anger on his daughters, particularly on Suiren, who is way too much like her mother). Their childhoods are awful in unique ways, and in an attempt to earn enough money to move out, Suiren, a waterbender, takes up a job as an assassin, which just further worsens her already nonexistent mental stability. In 174 AG, Team Avatar hires her as a last ditch effort to defeat Kuvira (and no, there is no giant mecha suit, because it's stupid and I hate it), and both sisters are taken to Air Temple Island. I never finished the fic itself, though I am slowly dabbling in a rewrite + continuation, but most of the discussions Kat and I have still take place in this verse, or more specifically, what we call post-SotRL

(Post-SotRL – After Suiren fails to kill Kuvira and sustains an injury to her leg, she and Midori leave ATI and by pure chance reunite with their parents and P'Li (all of whom survived the Book 3 finale and spent 3 years in hiding, because I said so). Of course, it's not all sunshine and rainbows – there are 16 years' worth of trauma, pain and guilt to work through, after all. That process is the central theme of Kat's Roots series. Some time later, Kuvira is defeated and sentenced to death, but Suiren (who's been high-key obsessed with her ever since the failed assassination) decides to break her out of jail and save her life, which leads to the start of their enemies to unwilling roommates/fuckbuddies to lovers arc. The event itself is detailed in Kat's WISH, and I myself have written this dynamic both in Astraphobia and my unfinished Avatar Sapphic Week contributions. At roughly the same time, Midori reconnects with Opal (who she met while at ATI) and they begin a relationship of their own (bc Bopal was comphet and you cannot convince me otherwise), a bit later Bolin joins the gang (gets semi-adopted by Ghazan and discovers that his mom and P’Li are actually cousins who never got to meet, so P’Li gets some family back too), and eventually this merry band of misfits break Zaheer out of jail, and what follows is some difficult political stuff that neither of us are too keen to get into, but the point is that in the end, the Red Lotus are allowed to peacefully exist and the world is slowly changing for the better)

Fate Amenable to Change – A set of fics exploring a Red Lotus Korra AU, canon to Kat's main backstory fic, Lost and Found (SotRL builds on the same events with the same backstories for P'Li and Zaheer, but with Ghazan being from Gaoling instead of Ba Sing Se, his sister's name being different, and him being childhood friends with Ming-Hua. Suiren and Midori are also not canon to FAtC). The main fic, Empty and Become Wind, differs from most other RL Korra fics because she wasn't kidnapped, rather the RL convinced her parents to run away with them, but unfortunately, both of them were killed when Korra was 11. After that, the RL took up residence in Zaofu right up until it was time for Korra to learn airbending, upon which they all relocate to Republic City. Kat's co-writer for this series quit writing, and since then we've basically adopted the two most prominent OCs from it – Nazra, P'heer's combustionbending daughter, and Tsomo, a blind airbender born to Lin and Tenzin before they broke up. The two of them feature in a few of our SotRL-based AUs (and yes, they're lesbians and in love, did you really expect anything else?). We don't really explore this verse because both of us are obsessed with Suiren and Midori, but it deserves a mention nonetheless.

SECONDARY VERSES:

Under the Oak's Shade – The first secondary AU ever created, a result of a passing idea of an AU where Zhi (P'Li's mentor and parental figure from Kat's LaF) and her partner Ikiaq (a bloodbending healer. Yes, these two are also lesbians) take in Suiren and Midori after their parents are imprisoned. Due to being unable to cope with her own grief, it takes Zhi six months to get to the girls, which was enough time for Haya's abuse to leave its mark. Both girls are nothing at all like the kids described in the letters P'Li used to send, and while Midori is quick to revert back and soak in all of Zhi's affection, Suiren is angry, skittish, terrified and resentful, reluctant to let Zhi anywhere near her. The series is still in progress, but the current plan is that Zhi will take them to the North Pole, where she lives with Ikiaq, and they shall help the girls heal from their trauma and grow up happy and healthy. One notable detail is that Suiren will train under Ikiaq and become a bloodbender, which will eventually enable her to enact a plan to break the RL out of prison early on. There have also been talks of a Red Lotus Korra element to this AU as well, but we'll have to discuss it in more detail

Ultimate AU – One of the mixes between SotRL and FAtC. This AU has existed pretty much forever, as I very quickly came up with a "hey, what if Suiren, Midori and Nazra all existed in the same verse?" concept. It is also the birthplace of Kuviren and Green Opal, both started as inside jokes, so remember kids, be careful with what you joke about, it might just become an important part of your story. It gained proper shape in May 2024 when I came up with an AU of LaF in which P'Li's little sister, Lien-Hua, gets to live and is also rescued from the warlord by Zaheer. Lien-Hua haunts the narrative of our multiverse (and actually, in SotRL-verse Midori is her reincarnation!!), she's really the central part of it all, and so it was decided that if she gets to live, everyone else does too. Xai Bau, the Red Lotus founder who died closer to the end of LaF, survives. The AU follows the storyline of FAtC with Korra's parents joining the RL, but they also get to live. In Zaofu, the kids get to grow up happily with their parents, the seeds for Kuviren and Green Opal are planted, and it's genuinely all very soft and fluffy up until Republic City and the Equalist conflict comes into the picture and things take on a darker turn. But before then, the worst thing that happens is Kuvira rejecting Suiren because she's convinced Renny (who's a massive flirt with a love for low cut dresses in this verse) is just playing with her and her feelings aren't genuine. But they sort it out soon enough, don't you worry. Essentially, this is the AU we turn to when the angst gets to be Too Much

Mud of Adversity – Another mix of SotRL and FAtC, this time a lot more angsty. Starts out the same as SotRL, with the exception of Nazra being left with Haya as well, meaning that Suiren's burden of being the protector has doubled. Haya knows who Nazra's mother is and thus is scared of her, so Naz doesn't get hit (Haya views her as a walking time bomb, essentially), but they're not given enough food to satisfy Nazra's increased appetite and she's made to feel like a freak for her height and abilities. Though in some ways, she's luckier than her sisters because she's allowed to firebend while earth- and waterbending are banned. The reason is the same, Haya being afraid that Nazra will spontaneously combust if her fire builds up for too long. Years later, when the girls are teens, Nazra gets angry at Haya for beating Suiren and accidentally kills her with her combustionbending. They dispose of the body, leave Gaoling and go into hiding, Suiren taking up her assassin job to keep them fed. When the RL escape from prison in Book 3, they go to check up on their daughters only to find an empty house, causing them all to imagine the worst. We never did finish figuring out how this AU develops, but this is the basic gist of it and maybe one day, we'll return to it

Sacrifice AU – The angstiest SotRL AU there is. As mentioned, people in the small corner of Gaoling Haya lives in are prejudiced towards the Swamp tribes, blaming them for the disease that killed so many, and Suiren as a swampbender becomes the subject of many rumours and superstitions. With time, the townspeople start to see her as a spirit (because it's easier to ignore the obvious abuse of a child if she's not a child at all, but a malevolent spirit and an omen of doom), and the rumours reach their peak when Suiren becomes an assassin and is now able to afford a slightly better life for herself and Midori, at which point it is decided that she must be the reason everyone else lives in poverty, because why else does she live better than them? Getting rid of her will be their salvation. So one night a few months after the Red Lotus allegedly die, on a new moon so Suiren is at her weakest, they attack, intending to sacrifice her as a way of securing prosperity, and kill Midori while they're at it. Kuvira, who at that point has already started her Great Uniter work, happens to be in Gaoling at the same time and saves them, taking them to Zaofu for their safety. Desperate to feel alive again, Suiren falls into bed with Kuvira on that very first night and regrets it a lot since now Kuvira keeps looking at her as if she expects something (Kuvira is just concerned, but try telling Suiren that). Traumatised, suffering from PTSD and paranoia, Suiren avoids people like the plague and stops waterbending, considering water to be a traitor since it didn't help her save herself and Midori, and instead learns bloodbending so she isn't completely helpless. And Kuvira, who keeps fretting over her, might just be the perfect test subject...

MoA Sacrifice AU – Somehow, even worse than the previous one. As the title suggests, a mix of Sacrifice AU and Mud of Adversity. Instead of Nazra killing Haya, things carry on as normal for a few more years until the night of the sacrifice. Nazra uses her combustionbending to try saving Suiren, but fails and all it results in is the townspeople deciding to sell her to a general looking for unique benders for his army. Suiren and Midori are saved by Kuvira and taken to Zaofu, while Nazra meets the same fate as her mother, being tattooed and forced to be a weapon against her will. Eventually, she is found and saved, but is so traumatised and scared of hurting people (her tattoo was done in a way that made her light chakra overactive, she literally cannot supress her combustionbending unless she's on qi blockers) that she can't stay in Zaofu and is sent to a sanctuary in the mountains to recover, where she meets and bonds with Tsomo. Meanwhile, rumours of a combustionbender spread and reach the Red Lotus, who are currently in hiding. Ghazan goes to investigate, is told by Haya about the failed sacrifice, comes across Bolin who by that point has made friends with Midori, and the reunion between the RL and their kids happens sooner than in normal SotRL. Still not too clear on where it goes from there

Avatar Suiren AU – Aang dies two years earlier and Suiren is born as the Avatar instead of Korra. The Red Lotus fundamentally believe that the Avatar shouldn't exist, and that belief was passed on to Suiren before they found out what she was. Suiren hates being the Avatar, both because she sees her parents constantly worrying about her being discovered and taken away, and because she, similar to Yangchen, is rather sensitive to memories of her past lives and it's very, very overwhelming for her. She often gets nightmares about traumatic things previous Avatars went though and.wakes up screaming names long forgotten by history, but that also allows her easier communication with them, so she's never quite alone. She remembers all the pain, all the efforts to fix the world that were ultimately useless, knows how it feels like to have your entire world upended as a child, and decides early on that she will not let this continue. The world cannot keep relying on one being to save them, and so she shall be the Last Avatar. She grows up, trains, at one point crosses paths with Kuvira in Zaofu who finds out her secret and becomes extremely devoted to her, and during Harmonic Convergence opens both Spirit Portals and fuses with Vaatu (much to Raava's dismay). She works hard to get the world ready for the lack of an Avatar, to change and establish as many things as she can, all the while bonding with and getting attached to her spirit kites, particularly Vaatu, though she spends a lot of time talking to both, and when things are as stable as can be, she lets both of them go, ending the cycle (something that would cause unfathomable outrage were it to actually happen in the show, but tbh, even this is 100x better than whatever those new leaks promise...)

Mermaid AU – An utterly niche, self indulgent AU not connected to any other verse, born out of my lifelong love for mermaids. No bending, no Avatar, just Kuvira as the best captain in Suyin Beifong's merchant fleet (and Bataar Jr's fiancee) and Suiren as a mermaid/siren/sea monster who she meets while stranded in a seaside town. Monsterfucking ensues 😁 I'm still not quite sure where I'll take this, the fic for it that I started for MerMay 2024 is still just a oneshot, but I do have some ideas I could explore, including how Suiren's parents and Midori feature in this AU (as a tiny hint.. anyone here ever seen Barbie in a Mermaid Tale? [they say, as if they don’t have several posts on their art blog spoiling the “grand reveal”…])

BONUS IMPORTANT STORYLINES:

Northern Water Tribe shenanigans – In March 2024 I made a shitpost about Malina, Unalaq's wife, Kat saw it and things spiralled from there. It came to be that there's no love in their marriage, they have not shared a bed since the twins were conceived, and Unalaq generally has no interest in Malina because he's rather.. preoccupied (🤮) with a certain spirit kite. And what's a lonely, touch starved, severely tocophobic beautiful bisexual noble woman to do in that situation? Well, start a harem made out of her guards and handmaidens, of course!! It's.. pretty much pure filth, yes 😔 That's just what happens when you let someone raised on harem dramas (a.k.a me) anywhere near noble characters. But anyway, we have two OCs Malina is close with so far – Ila, a useless disaster lesbian for whom no other woman but Malina exists, and Alasie, an aroace and touch repulsed maid who has her boundaries respected by Malina and becomes a friend to her. Ngl, those two are low-key based on Kat and me <3 And Suiren also becomes involved in all of this in the UtOS and Avatar Suiren verses, but I shall not be sharing details of that in public

Zaheer's fucked up family – Once upon a time, Kat wrote in LaF that at age 12, Zaheer ran away from his tyrant father, classist mother and two sisters, whom he didn’t have the best relationship with. One summer evening, I took that and ran with it. Semi-brief summary: Jusamah – Zaheer's father, angry, violent, barely tolerates his wife and kids, cares only for his fortune and continuing the family line, can, will and has severely punished and executed people for perceived transgressions; Sunat – Zaheer's mother, meek, anxious, secretly nearsighted, loves her children and would do anything to ensure their safety, but doesn't allow herself to show affection, focuses on social climbing to secure good matches for her daughters; Summiya – the eldest, perfect in every way down to the uncanny symmetry of her face. Married to Himman, the only son of an influential family who's rumoured to be a drunk and a brothel goer. Her two children, Liba and Abyan, were both born with visible birthmarks, thus not as perfect as her, and her perfectionism and constant criticism make Abyan resent her and Liba hate herself. As young teens, the two run away, leaving Summiya's life crumbling around her. Her kids are gone, her husband is a cheater, she's not perfect anymore, so she loses it and turns to sexual masochism to feel at least something. Her infidelity is discovered, she runs away, makes friends with a group of girls working at a local brothel (a few of whom are her husband's mistresses), heals, finds freedom in sex work, eventually reconnects with her sister, kids, mother and, many years later, Zaheer; Aiza/Emran – middle child, always failed to live up to both Summiya and Zaheer, scored a less than ideal match and couldn't stand the thought of marrying someone she had never met (my fic nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter goes into this in great detail), so disguised herself as a boy named Emran and ran away with the help of her maid. Ends up at an Air Temple, joins the acolytes, has a gender epiphany and now goes by both names, uses she/he/they pronouns, and is a genderfluid, pansexual, polyamorous ICON. Many years later, his niece and nephew arrive at the same temple and he takes them under his wing. Has many lovers all over the world, including the maid who helped them, Jia (who was tortured for information by Jusamah after Aiza left 😬) and after reuniting with Zaheer, Ghazan :D. Gains airbending after Harmonic Convergence. Over the last few months Kat and I have basically frothed at the mouth at any even slight mention of this family, and it's hard to tell why from a summary, but generational conflicts like this are fascinating so we intend to keep going with this until we literally can't anymore

Brothel girls – Summiya's friends!! Featuring: Shezan – bisexual, struggles with chronic pain, comes from a big family, loves her work but would rather do it independently; Roheen – lesbian, wanted to become a lawyer but didn't get into school despite her smarts, dislikes her job and wants to leave to pursue law school again; Gulalai – bisexual, has an identical twin sister she failed to compare to, in a relationship with Roheen, enjoys her work well enough but would leave if Roheen left; Phailin – asexual, half Fire Nation, erotic dancer who goes further for a higher price, loves dancing and having eyes on herself and dreams of returning to her ancestral homeland, the Fire Nation islands; Daneli – lesbian, youngest girl there, turned to brothel work when her dad (single father) got sick, has crushes on Shezan and Qader, doesn't enjoy her job much and will leave as soon as she can, ends up adopting the daughter of one of the other brothel girls, whom she names Kumisai (who, as a teenager, will be in a relationship with Jinora and friends with Kai); and Qader – some flavour of mspec, was bullied growing up for not being feminine enough so went full butch to spite them, picked her name herself, the most domineering at the brothel, likes her work and will keep at it regardless of circumstances, makes Kat's brain short-circuit 🤭. Honourable mention – Mekhali, non-binary, independent sex worker with an undecided dark past, Summiya's first friend who housed her after she ran away, introduced her to the girls and helped both her and Shezan start working independently too (no posted art or fics of these guys exist yet, but Kat and I have an extensive series of incorrect quotes posts featuring them)

Sweet baby Ehuang – We've had the headcanon for a while that Midori and Opal would work with kids a lot in the future, and as a result would adopt a bunch (no names, appearances or concrete backstories yet, but they adopted a boy who was born in 173 AG, a girl who was born in 175 AG, and one who'll end up nonbinary who was born in 181 AG), but after a while Midori decides that she wants to have a biological child as well. With one of Opal's brothers helping out as a sperm donor, Midori conceives and nine months later, in 186 AG, gives birth to a girl they name Ehuang (her name comes from the same legend as Ming-Hua's mom's name, Nuying, so it's all very symbolic). Ehuang grows up to be a wild and carefree child, beloved by her entire family – her moms, siblings, grandparents, uncles on Opal's side, Auntie Renny and Auntie 'Vira (Suiren and Kuvira, in case that wasn't obvious), etc etc. She's an earthbender on the road to becoming a lavabender, takes after great grandma Toph in her refusal to wear shoes, has a rock collection, and is literally the manifestation of everything good and pure in this world. We don't have much of a storyline for her yet, but that will hopefully change at some point since I already have a few ideas

EXTRA OC INFODUMPS AND RELEVANT POSTS:

Brief summaries of Haya, Summiya, Aiza, Ehuang, and Ila & Alasie

Meifeng, Ming-Hua’s cousin

Nonbinary OCs (incomplete list)

Eldest daughters

And, as one final piece of information, the SotRL-verse family tree:

Last updated: DECEMBER 20TH 2024

[seafoam-taide]

hmmm winning... guys who win and are so happy they won its a good type of guy. i love fan aus where a guy gets exactly what they wanted what they wanted so so so bad they wanted it so bad and theyre ! well. they won. they got what they wanted. so theyre... ! winning.

[songbirdsia]

[keferon]

I’m just using Death loop au as an excuse to draw this version of Blurr haha. Because. Those Tiny titan cards didn’t have to go THAT hard oh my god

Look at him! Look!

[valeisaslut]

⭒࿐COLLIDE - c. one

credits for the fanart: nramvv - edited by me

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

← 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑜 →

⚢ pairing: Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Popstar!Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ synopsis: You didn’t mean to find her. Not really. But the music is loud, the drinks are strong, and somehow you’re caught in her orbit. A glance turns into a touch, a whisper into something more. The night blurs in heat and tangled sheets, a secret meant to stay buried. But when morning comes and your phone won’t stop buzzing, one thing is clear—last night isn’t staying hidden. 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ word count: 8,4k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ content: smut, top!ellie, sub! reader, strap-on sex (r!receiving), oral sex and fingering (r!receiving), hair pulling, praise, pet names, modern au,mention of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs, cursing, violence, afab!reader, MEN AND MINORS DNI, multiple part series, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

There’s a strange feeling in the air tonight— dense, electric, charged with the kind of energy that makes your skin prickle and your pulse quicken without reason. The kind of feeling that only comes before things change. Before a shift so subtle, so inevitable, you don’t see it coming until it swallowed you whole. 

Maybe it’s fate sharpening its teeth. Maybe it’s destiny rewriting itself in real time. Or maybe it’s just the way the universe works, pulling you towards something, towards someone, whether you’re ready or not.

You don’t know it yet, but the world you know —the one you’ve mastered, the one that bends to your will— will start slipping through your fingers. The lines you swore you’d never cross will blur into nothing. Not all at once. Just enough to make you wonder if losing it might be the best thing that ever happened to you.

Or the worst.

Either way, by the morning, nothing will ever be the same.

The limousine glides to a stop at the curb, the low purr of the engine nearly drowned out by the deep bass thrumming from behind the club’s velvet-roped entrance. Outside, the city glows. Neon signs flickering against the blacked-out windows, paparazzi cameras flashing like tiny detonations in the dark.

Your dress is custom—something sleek but bright enough to catch the low, moody lights of the club. A perfect deep shade of red, sculpted to hug every curve, paired with heels so high they should be illegal. Your stylist had insisted on the look, calling it “effortlessly sexy”.

But as you step out of the car, the cool night air brushing against your bare shoulders, the silk brushing against your legs, it feels more like armor than fashion.

Your heels click against the pavement. Diamond-studded earrings catch the flashing lights as your name spills from the lips of paparazzi, murmured like a prayer behind metal barricades. Security holds them back, but their cameras? Their cameras never miss.

You inhale deeply, forcing a smile as your friend Olivia loops her arm through yours, her perfume sweet and familiar as she leans in, voice smooth with amusement.

“Ready to have some fun?” 

You nod, but the truth settles low in your stomach.

You don’t know what you’re looking for tonight. A distraction, maybe. A release. Something to remind you that your life is more than a series of curated, picture-perfect moments. More than something to be consumed.

The doorman doesn’t even glance at the list before letting you both in. Past the crowd, past the rules. Straight into the kind of luxury most people only dream about.

Inside, the club is a different world—bathed in gold light, dripping in excess. Crystal chandeliers hang from vaulted ceilings, their reflections fractured in the glassy surfaces of designer champagne flutes. The air is thick with an intoxicating haze of perfume and liquor and the music is a hypnotic heartbeat, moving through bodies like an electric current.

A server appears before you even have to ask, pressing a drink into your hand. It’s cold against your lips, smooth and sweet with just enough of a bite to remind you that it’s expensive. You let it linger on your tongue, relishing the way the warmth spreads through your chest.

Everyone’s looking at you. You can feel it. The stolen glances, the whispers behind manicured hands, the way conversations pause when you walk by. The attention used to unnerve you.

It still does.

But you slip into the role effortlessly. Chin high, lips curved in just the right amount of detached amusement, the slit of your dress parting just enough to tease, the subtle sway of your hips deliberate. 

You don’t stop to acknowledge anyone, but you already saw lots of recognizable faces. Eyes track your every move. They want to talk, to be close, to claim even a second of your attention. 

You let Olivia lead you through the pulsing crowd, past velvet ropes and watchful bouncers, into the VIP section—where the real power plays out. The air here is heavier, thick with the kind of confidence that only comes with knowing you belong.

Not even half an hour passes before she nudges you, her perfectly manicured fingers gripping your arm as she tips her head towards a booth across the room.

“Oh, shit,” she murmurs, her eyes flickering with amusement, with something else. Intrigue. Mischief. “Isn’t that the girl from The Fireflies?”

You take a slow sip of your drink, pretending to be unaffected—heavy on the pretending.

“Really? Ellie Williams?”

“Yeah” Olivia exhales, shaking her head, lips curling into a smirk. “Goddamn, she’s hot as fuck.”

Something shifts. A charged pause. The air seems thicker, humming with something you can’t quite name.

You tilt your head, finally allowing yourself to glance over.

And there she is.

And yeah—she’s indeed hot as fuck.

Ellie is sprawled across the leather booth like she owns it—like the whole damn club bends to her presence. The black fabric of her shirt hangs loose on her frame, the top few buttons undone, teasing just enough of the freckled skin of her chest to be unfair. The sleeves are pushed up, exposing tattoos that wind down her forearms, ink bold against pale skin. Silver rings glint on her fingers as she idly swirls the whiskey in her glass, watching the amber liquid catch the dim light.

She’s not alone—the rest of The Fireflies are scattered around her. Dina is perched on the armrest beside her, scrolling through her phone, half-listening to whatever Jesse is saying, who’s deep in conversation with someone you don’t recognize. But Ellie? She’s elsewhere. Detached. Letting the whiskey burn slow in her throat as the bass-heavy music thrums through the club. Until she looks up.

Until her gaze collides with yours.

And then—when she realizes who she’s looking at—something shifts.

She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t break first. Instead, she keeps staring—not in a fleeting, casual way. She’s studying you. Sizing you up. The smirk tugging at her lips is slow, knowing.

Like she’s been expecting you. Like she’s been waiting for this moment.

Like she knew you’d both end up here eventually.

Your fingers tighten around your drink as you exhale, pulse thrumming against your skin.

Ellie takes a lazy drag of her whiskey. In one slow, deliberate movement, she spreads her legs a little wider, drapes an arm across the back of the booth, and raises an eyebrow.

The tension between you stretches—thin as wire, hot as an exposed filament—buzzing as the glances keep coming. Stolen, lingering, and never accidental.

You shift in your seat, crossing your legs. You’re playing it cool, but the thrum of adrenaline in your veins says otherwise. You can feel her eyes on you even when you look away, even when Olivia keeps talking in your ear, words blurring into the low hum of music and conversation.

And then, she grabs your wrist. “Come on,” she urges, eyes glinting with mischief. “We didn’t come here to sit around.”

You let her pull you onto the dance floor, slipping into the current of bodies that move around you, the music curling around you like smoke. You move easily, letting the rhythm sink into your bones, letting the world blur.

But you keep looking back.

And Ellie—Ellie is still staring.

Her gaze is heavy-lidded, dim light catching in green irises, turning them darker. She lifts her glass to her lips again, slowly, whiskey kissing her mouth as she watches you move.

She looks like she’s enjoying the show.

So you give her one.

You dance, letting the music drown out everything else—the flashing lights, the faceless bodies. The bass thrums through your bones, heartbeat syncing to the rhythm, but no matter how lost you let yourself get, you can still feel her.

Ellie hasn’t moved. Not yet. But her presence is suffocating, pressing into you from across the room. She’s relaxed—almost too relaxed. Like she’s pretending this isn’t affecting her.

But the way her jaw shifts slightly, the way her grip tightens for half a second before she hides it behind another sip?

Yeah. It’s affecting her.

So you push it further.

You let your movements get a little slower, a little more deliberate. Your dress clings in all the right places, the dim lights casting shadows over your skin, and when you open your eyes again, you catch the exact moment Ellie loses her composure.

It’s the way her tongue swipes across her bottom lip. The way her fingers drum against the table, restless, like she’s debating something.

The way she exhales sharply, sets her glass down, and finally moves.

She stands, pushing off the booth with that same lazy confidence, but there’s a new sharpness to it now, a purpose. She murmurs something to Dina, who only smirks, flicks a glance at you, then waves her off. 

She doesn’t rush. Doesn’t weave through the crowd—she cuts through it, a slow, steady force, people shifting around her without a second thought.

"Alright, superstar" Olivia drawls, her grin nothing short of wicked as she catches your eye. "I’ll leave you to your… situation."

You barely get a chance to react before she downs the rest of her drink, runs a slow hand down the fabric of her dress, and locks onto a guy leaning against the bar—tall, sharp-jawed, the kind she loves to toy with.

"Oh, I see..." you murmur, arching a brow as you watch her shift her weight onto one foot, feigning nonchalance, even though you know better. "Text me later—if you even remember how to type by then."

Olivia leans in, pressing a quick, sticky-sweet kiss to your cheek, her perfume blooming warm against your skin.

"Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do" she purrs, voice light, eyes glinting.

Then she’s gone, slipping into the crowd, leaving only the faintest trace of laughter in her wake.

And just like that, you’re alone.

Well—not exactly.

You feel her before you even see her.

The shift in the air. The weight of a gaze. The way the energy of the room tilts—like gravity itself is bending towards her, like she commands the space around her without ever needing to claim it.

Your pulse stumbles.

Ellie moves like she knows she belongs wherever she stands. She doesn’t even have to touch you; just her presence alone is enough to sink beneath your skin, coil around your ribs, settle deep in your stomach.

Her scent—smoke, leather, and the sharp bite of her cologne—wraps around you as she leans in, voice dropping low, teasing.

"You always put on a show like that, or was that just for me?"

Her breath ghosts along your cheek, close enough to taste the warmth of whiskey lingering on her lips.

You don’t answer right away. You let it sit, let the tension pull tight between you. A slow inhale, the ghost of a smirk playing at your lips as you rake a hand through your hair, finally turning to meet her.

And fuck.

Up close, Ellie is lethal. The kind of beautiful that feels like a setup, like a loaded gun placed in trembling hands. Her green eyes gleam, sharp and unreadable. Her gaze flicks down to your tits for half a second, barely noticeable—but you notice.

“That depends.” you murmur, voice smooth, honeyed. “Did you like the show?”

Ellie huffs a quiet laugh, tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek, and shit that does something to you. She leans just enough for the space between you to practically vanish, the heat of her breath against your skin.

“I don’t think like is the right word”

Oh.

The music pounds around you, but it’s background noise now—distant, unimportant. Because all you care about is the rush of your own heartbeat, the scrape of Ellie’s voice, and the way she’s watching you like she’s already got her next move planned.

You raise a brow, letting your fingers trace the rim of your glass before taking a slow sip. “Oh yeah?”

Ellie’s gaze drops to your mouth. She smirks. That same lazy, knowing smirk from across the room, only now it’s worse. Now it’s right there.

“Yeah,” she says, voice edged with amusement, with challenge. “I think I need a closer look.”

Your stomach tightens.

You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “Mmm. I don’t know. You seemed pretty comfortable back there.”

“I was,” she admits, eyes gleaming. “But you were distracting.”

“Distracting?”

She muses, lips twitching. “It's hard to focus on anything else when you’re in the room.”

Jesus Christ.

You should say something witty, something smooth, but it seems that your mind is short-circuiting and working against you. So you settle for something else that doesn’t require snarky comebacks.

You don’t break eye contact as you set your drink down and reach for her whiskey glass, plucking it from her fingers like it belongs to you.

Slowly, you bring it to your lips, tilting your head back to take a sip. The burn of the whiskey is immediate, rich and smoky, but you barely register it. Because all you can focus on is Ellie watching you—watching your mouth, your throat, the way your fingers wrap around her glass.

“It’s good.” You murmur, licking a stray drop off your bottom lip before offering it back.

Ellie takes it without a word. Her fingers brush against yours—just for a second, just long enough to feel deliberate. Then she drinks, lips meeting the same spot yours just touched. Indirect kiss.

Ellie doesn’t react, not outright. She just watches you over the rim of the glass, half-lidded, unreadable, before swallowing the last sip. She nods toward the backs of the bar, where the booths are tucked away in the dim neon haze, shadows swallowing the edges of the room.

“C’mon.” Her voice is low, sure. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

It’s not a question.

You should hesitate. You should throw something sharp her way, something teasing, a push to match her pull. But you don’t.

Not when the warmth of her touch still lingers against your skin.

So you just follow.

After grabbing fresh drinks, you slide into the booth, expecting Ellie to take the seat across from you. But she doesn’t. Instead, she slips in right beside you, close. Casual, unhurried, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Her thigh presses against yours, warm through the fabric of her jeans. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth as she leans back against the worn leather seat, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, fingers just barely grazing your shoulder.

She takes a slow sip of her drink, the ice shifting with the movement, her other hand resting on her thigh—dangerously close. Close enough that if you shifted even a little, if you so much as exhaled in the wrong direction, her fingers would graze your skin.

You take a sip of your own drink, matching her energy, leaning back just enough that your shoulder presses against her arm, your movements measured.

“You comfortable?” she muses, voice dipping low.

“Yeah,” you turn your head as you answer smoothly “Are you?”

Ellie chuckles, shaking her head, her eyes flicking over your face like she’s figuring out a puzzle she already knows the answer to.

“Oh, I’m real comfortable.” 

She tilts her glass, ice clinking, watching as you drag your fingers along the condensation on yours.

“So…” you hum, drawing out the word and trying to chat a little “What’s next for the great Ellie Williams?”

Ellie exhales, tilting her head back against the booth.

“Studio time. Late nights. Same shit, different album.”

You nod, taking a sip. “Bet it’s gonna be good.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? You a fan?”

You lift a shoulder in a shrug, playful. “Maybe. Or maybe I just said that to be nice.”

Ellie scoffs, shaking her head. “Bullshit.”

You laugh, looking at her over the rim of your glass. She studies you for a second, eyes sharp and knowing, then leans in, her voice taking on a teasing lilt.

“What about you, pop princess? More shows? Another album?” she quips. “...maybe a fake PR relationship?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling.

“I don’t do those.”

Ellie gives you a look—unconvinced. “Sure.”

A beat of silence, thick with something unspoken.

If only you both knew

Then, her hand moves lower, fingertips grazing the bare skin of your shoulder. The touch is featherlight, almost absentminded, but you know better. Her other hand slides down slowly until her palm settles on your thigh, just above your knee. You feel the warmth of it through your skin, a quiet claim. Almost possessive.

She’s testing you. Seeing if you’ll pull away.

And you don’t.

“You nervous?” she murmurs, feeling as goosebumps raise in the skin she's touching.

You exhale, meeting her gaze with a challenge. “Not even a little.”

Ellie hums like she doesn’t believe you. Her fingers tighten just slightly against your thigh, pressing firmer, the weight of them making heat coil even lower in your stomach. 

“Then finish your drink.”

Your brow lifts, matching her grin. “Why?”

She tilts her head, green eyes dark, half-lidded, unreadable.

“’Cause we’re getting out of here.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

You know exactly where this is going.

So you knock back the rest of your drink in one smooth motion, the warmth of the alcohol sliding down your throat, mingling with the heat pooling low in your stomach. The sensation is almost dizzying, but not as much as the way Ellie hungrily watches you.

Her fingers remain on your thigh, unmoving except for the lazy brush of her thumb against your skin. A barely-there touch, but still there. When you set the glass down with a soft clink, Ellie smirks.

"Good girl."

Your stomach tightens, but you keep your expression composed, refusing to give her the reaction she wants. Instead, you lean into her touch, letting your thigh press more firmly against her hand. 

And then, just as effortlessly as she slid into the booth beside you, she moves again—standing, slipping out of the seat with an easy grace. Without hesitation, she reaches into her pocket, tosses a couple of bills onto the table, and tilts her head towards the exit.

“My hotel isn’t far.”

Your lips curve, eyes glinting with something playful, but you don’t stand up. Not yet. “Are you always this forward?”

Ellie chuckles, slipping her hands into her pockets, her smirk deepening. “Only when I know what I want.”

You hum, gaze flicking between her lips and her eyes, drawn in by the way she looks at you—steady, unshaken, expectant.

“And what is it that you want?”

Ellie doesn’t hesitate or waver. Her gaze drags over your face, then lower, sweeping over every inch of your body. That look alone answers every question you could possibly have.

She’s eye-fucking you. 

“I think you already know.”

Her voice feels like a dare wrapped in velvet.

She shifts just slightly to let her fingers brush against yours—not quite holding, not quite taking, just enough to make you shiver. To remind you that you’re the one who has to make the next move.

“Last chance, pop star.” Her thumb grazes the inside of your wrist. “You coming or not?

No time to blame the alcohol, the music, her, or even yourself. None of it matters. Not when she’s this close. Not when you’ve already decided—fuck everything.

You don't answer her with words.

Instead, you let your fingers slip fully into hers, a silent answer in the way you squeeze her hand. With unhurried confidence, you rise to your feet, stepping in close, letting her feel the warmth of your body against hers.

Ellie watches you, her smirk deepening, her grip tightening ever so slightly, like she’s making sure you’re real. And then, without another word, she turns, leading you towards the exit, her pace steady, certain— she already knows exactly how this night is going to end.

The elevator ride is painfully slow.

Ellie leans against the mirrored wall, the yellow glow of the overhead lights casting soft shadows along her sharp jawline. You can feel the heat of her gaze, the weight of it pressing against your skin.

“So…” she drawls, tapping a slow rhythm against her thigh. “Have you ever done this before?”

You arch a brow. “Been in an elevator?”

Ellie huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “No, smartass. Snuck away in the middle of the night with someone you barely know.”

You hum, pretending to think as you glance at her from beneath your lashes. “Depends” you say. “Do you count as someone I barely know?”

Ellie exhales sharply, something between a laugh and a scoff as she steps closer until there’s barely a breath of space between you.

“You think you’re funny,” she murmurs, voice just above a whisper.

Your pulse thrums. “I know I am.”

She studies you for a moment, head tilted, before her lips twitch into something smug. “Alright then” she muses, tilting her chin towards the soft ding of the elevator reaching the highest floor. 

“Let’s see if you’re still funny in a minute.”

You step inside, your heels clicking softly against the marble, the sound swallowed by the sheer vastness of the room. Ellie follows, closing the door behind you with a quiet click.

The Four Seasons suite is nothing short of breathtaking—the kind of luxury that feels effortless, curated. The living area is sprawling, tastefully minimal, yet undeniably expensive, all clean lines and plush textures. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city stretches out in a sea of glittering lights, skyscrapers piercing the night sky.

The air is cool and heavy, carrying the faint scent of cedarwood, perfume, whiskey, and something distinctively her. A half-finished whiskey bottle and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts sit on the bar. In the adjoining room, a decadent king-sized bed stands with its pristine sheets rumpled, as if she left in a hurry.

She doesn’t move right away. She just watches you, standing a few steps away, hands in her pockets. She’s giving you a moment to take it all in, to change your mind.

"You sure ‘bout this?" she murmurs, voice lower now, more serious. Less teasing.

Your lips curve, slow and certain. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

Ellie exhales a quiet chuckle, running a hand through her auburn mullet before stepping closer. The room feels smaller now, the space between you dissolving into nothing.

“Yeah” she mutters, gaze flickering to your lips. “Didn’t think so.”

And she kisses you.

It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s filled with longing, of knowing about each other without ever really knowing each other, of stolen glances, headlines and rumors that led to this. Her lips are warm, slightly rough from cigarettes and the way she’s been smirking all night.

You match her, hands finding the front of her black shirt, gripping the expensive fabric between your fingers, pulling her closer. Ellie groans against your mouth, low and amused, like she knew you’d be like this— she was just waiting for you to prove it.

She backs you up slowly, guiding without breaking contact, until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You sink down, breathless, heart hammering, and Ellie follows, bracing herself over you, one knee between your legs, hands settling on either side of you.

Her hands roam, slow but sure, like she’s mapping you out, memorizing every inch of you beneath her fingertips. The room hums with the soft sound of your breaths, the distant city noise barely audible past the pounding in your ears.

Her lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, down the column of your throat. A quiet exhale escapes you when her teeth graze your pulse point, and she smirks against your skin like she’s won something.

Ellie moves with purpose, like she’s savoring every little reaction you give her. The way your breath stutters when her lips graze just below your jaw, the way your fingers clutch at her shirt, pulling her closer, needing more.

The air between you is electric, charged with something you are too far gone to name, but definitely heavy. Her hands press against your sides, fingers flexing like she’s grounding herself, like she needs to remind herself to take her time, try to draw this out.

But then you move—tilting your chin, brushing your lips against her pulse point—and Ellie falters, just for a second. A sharp inhale, a quiet curse under her breath.

She’s kisses you again, deeper this time, more urgent. And you know something inside her has finally snapped.

Her hands grip at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to send a thrill up your spine. Her weight presses against you, firm, unyielding, and you arch into it, meeting her halfway. There’s no space left between you now, just heat, friction and the dizzying sensation of losing yourself in her.

She pulls back just slightly, just enough to look at you, to study your face in the dim light. Her thumb brushes over your cheek, softer than before, more careful. Her pupils are blown wide, her breathing uneven.

And then—just when you think you have her figured out—she shifts, her breath hot against your ear, pressing her knee harder between your thighs.

“Tell me, princess” she murmurs, voice dipped in something dangerously close to amusement. “Still playing the part?”

It would be so easy to keep up the game, to smirk and tell her that she’s the one who’s falling for it. But Ellie’s knee moves again—just enough to steal the thought right out of your head—and you let out a soft gasp instead of answering.

Your fingers tighten in her hair, and she groans low in her throat, the sound vibrating through you. It’s heady, dizzying, the way she knows exactly what she’s doing, exactly how to unravel you.

“That's what I thought…” 

Her fingers finally find the zipper at the curve of your spine, slow and deliberate, the ghost of a touch sending shivers down your skin. She pauses, eyes flicking up to yours, searching, waiting for your approval.

“Yes, please,” you breathe, barely above a whisper—soft, wanting. 

You didn’t mean for it to sound that desperate, but God, you are.

Ellie’s smirk deepens into something downright wicked, her eyes dark with satisfaction. “Fuck…” she mutters, mostly to herself, like she wasn’t expecting you to sound like that, and she wants to hear it again.

Then—slow, torturously slow—she tugs the zipper down, the sound of it impossibly loud in the quiet space between you. The dress pools at your waist before slipping further, guided by her hands, like she’s unwrapping something precious.

And when it finally falls away, leaving you bare save for the delicate lace of your black panties, Ellie exhales a quiet curse, eyes raking over you like she wants to commit every inch of you to memory.

She can’t quite believe you’re real. But you are. And you are here, beneath her, almost naked and looking up at her like this. Her hands skim up your sides, fingers splaying over your ribs, dragging heat in their wake. There’s something almost reverent in the way she touches you, like she’s been waiting for this longer than she’d ever admit. 

“You are even better than I imagined,” she murmurs, voice thick, dark and dizzying. Her gaze flickers back up to yours, and the corner of her mouth tugs into a knowing smirk. “And trust me, gorgeous—I imagined a lot.”

It’s like she’s learning, memorizing. And it’s because she is. This is a moment she wants burned into her mind, something she won’t let fade when the night is over.

“You’re still dressed…” you murmur, running your hands up the fabric of her shirt, fingers tracing over the smooth, expensive material.

Ellie smirks, tilting her head slightly. “Wanna fix that?” Her voice is teasing as she leans in, pressing a peck to your lips, barely pulling away before adding, “Be my guest.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your fingers move to the buttons of her shirt, starting slowly at first, savoring the way the fabric parts beneath your touch, revealing inch by inch of her skin. But patience has never been your strong suit, and before you know it, your fingers are working faster, making quick work of the last few buttons.

Ellie chuckles softly at your eagerness, shrugging the shirt off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. 

Your breath catches, taking her in—her toned arms, her freckled chest, her abs, the ink sprawled across her skin, the way the dim lighting casts shadows over every sharp edge of her body.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the way you’re looking at her. “Like what you see?”

You swallow, lips curving into something between a smirk and something much softer. “Yeah,” you admit, voice quieter, breathless. “I really do.”

She smirks, all too proud of herself, before lowering her mouth to your body, lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest. Each press of her mouth sets your skin on fire as she moves lower, finally reaching your breasts.

Her tongue flicks over a hardened nipple before her lips close around it, sucking just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core. Her other hand moves to your other breast, fingers squeezing, kneading, rolling your sensitive bud between her fingertips with a precision that makes your breath hitch.

A moan escapes you before you can stop it and Ellie groans low in her throat, the sound vibrating against your skin. She knows exactly what she’s doing, her movements natural, fluid.

You know she has done this more than a hundred times—but right now, with the way she’s touching you, kissing you, looking at you—it feels like you’re the only one.

And the worst part? She’s barely even started.

“You’re unreal,” she mutters against your skin, voice thick with something reverent, almost amazed. “You sure you’re not the one playing me?”

Your breath catches, a slow smirk forming even as your body betrays you, pressing closer, craving more. “Maybe,” you tease, voice barely above a whisper. “Or maybe I just like watching you lose control.”

Ellie exhales a quiet laugh, but there’s something darker in her eyes now—something wild, untamed. She leans in, lips ghosting over your jaw, your throat, before settling just below your ear.

“Then I guess we’re both in trouble.”

Ellie’s fingers trail lower as she reaches the waistband of your panties. With a slow smirk, she hooks her fingers into the lace and tugs them down, the fabric slipping over your thighs in one smooth motion. The cool air kisses your heated core, and she exhales sharply, her gaze flickering downward—taking you in, almost ridiculously soaked for her. Just for her.

“Damn…” she murmurs, voice thick with something between amusement and hunger. “Look at you.”

“Fuck, Ellie...” Heat rushes to your face, her fingers ghost over your thigh. She’s barely touching you, barely doing anything at all, and yet—your body is already responding, arching subtly towards her, silently asking for more.

Ellie chuckles, low and knowing. “You’re so easy to read.” She leans in, lips grazing your jaw, her fingers still dancing just at the edge of your glistening pussy. “And so, so needy.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and when she finally moves—finally gives in to what you both want—you can’t stop the breathy moan that slips from your lips.

Ellie grins against your skin, pleased. “That’s more like it, baby. Keep moaning for me like that.”

Her fingers move like pure sin, circling your clit with practiced ease, each motion precise, calculated. Designed to ruin you, untame you. Your moans spill out freely, and you can feel her eyes on you, dark and burning, primal. 

The sight of you like this—bare, undone, completely at her mercy—makes something in her tighten, makes her want to see just how far she can push you.

So she doesn’t give you a second to prepare. One moment, she’s watching you with that signature smirk, and the next—her mouth is on you, tongue sliding through your folds like she’s been starving for this.

“Oh god! Ellie!” You choke on a gasp, hands flying to the sheets, twisting them between your fingers as her tongue works against you.

Ellie eats you out the same way she plays her guitar—expertly, effortlessly, like she was made for this. Every flick of her tongue is deliberate, every slow drag filled with a deep, unrelenting intensity, she’s savoring you, she wants to make a masterpiece out of your pleasure.

“So sweet…” Ellie groans against your cunt, the sound sending vibrations that make your whole body jolt. Fuck, she thinks, feeling the way your thighs twitch, the way your breath stutters, how quickly you fall apart for her. It’s addictive.

She pulls back just enough to spit on your pussy, watching the way your hole clenches around nothing. A quiet chuckle rumbles in her chest, fingers dragging lazily up your slit, collecting everything you’re giving her.

“You’re fuckin’ messy, babe." She murmurs, half in awe, half just to tease. 

Before you can even think to respond, her tongue is on you again, dragging slow and deliberate licks over your swollen clit while two fingers ease their way inside, stretching you open.

You inhale sharply, your thighs instinctively trying to snap shut around her, but Ellie is quick, her free hand pressing against your hip, keeping you right where she wants you.

She curls her fingers just right, feeling the way your walls flutter around them. She watches you from beneath heavy lids, drinking in the way your head tilts back, lips parting, how every needy sound you make is just for her.

Her lips curve against your heat before she bites down on your clit softly—just enough to make your breath hitch, your fingers tighten in her hair. Her fingers move in tandem, thrusting slow but deep, curling just right against your spongy spot to make pleasure coil tighter and tighter inside you.

You can’t even form words, only breathy, broken sounds slipping past your lips. Your body moves on instinct, rolling against her mouth, chasing that high she’s so effortlessly pulling you towards. Ellie groans at the way you react to her, the vibrations sending a new wave of heat spiraling through you.

“Takin’ it so perfectly, princess,” she muses, her voice rough with satisfaction. One hand smooths along your thigh, grounding, teasing, keeping you exactly where she wants you. The slick, obscene sounds of her fingers and mouth working on you grow louder, matching the frantic pace of your pulse.

You’re so close, you can feel it—electric, unbearable, curling low. Like a thread waiting to snap. 

“I—hah!—Ellie, I’m gonna—” Your voice breaks as pleasure crashes over you, white-hot and dizzying. Your body tightens, trembles, pleasure snapping through every nerve as you cry out, gripping onto her like she’s the only thing anchoring you.

Ellie doesn’t pull away immediately, working you through it, her mouth still lazily exploring, drawing out every last aftershock until your thighs are trembling around her. Only then does she ease back, slow and deliberate, her fingers slipping from you with a quiet, wet sound.

You barely have time to catch your breath before she lifts them to her lips, her eyes locking onto yours, utterly shameless. She slides them past her lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum.

“Too good to waste” she mutters, the rasp in her voice making heat flicker in your belly all over again.

You watch her with a dazed expression, your mind still lost in the aftershocks, chest rising and falling as you try to remember how to breathe.

This is almost too good to be true.

And thank God it is.

Ellie watches you with half-lidded eyes, her breath heavy, chest rising and falling as she takes in the sight of you—disheveled, skin glistening, lips parted as you gasp for air. She knows she’s wrecked you, and fuck, she loves it. Loves the way you look at her, like she’s the only thing that exists in the world right now.

“Shit babe, you soaked the bed…” she murmurs, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips as she drags her fingers up your trembling thighs. “Do I turn you on that badly?”

Your head barely nods, your body still buzzing, heat pooling in your stomach again even though you haven’t fully come down. “Mhmm.”

Ellie huffs out a quiet chuckle, pressing her lips against the inside of your knee before pulling back just enough to unbuckle her belt. Your breath hitches as she unfastens it, sliding her jeans and grey boxers down her hips, revealing the deep purple strap nestled between her thighs.

And It’s almost unfair how good she looks like this. Shirt unbuttoned, muscles flexing as she strokes the length of the toy once, watching you with amused eyes.

And let's just say, you are shocked.

How the hell did you not notice it before? It’s thick, long, and attached to a harness that presses snugly against her lower abdomen—bigger than anything you’ve ever taken.

Your gaze flickers between her face and the toy, your thighs pressing together involuntarily. Ellie notices, her smirk widening. “Something wrong, baby?”

You swallow, your voice coming out weaker than you want it to. “N-no.”

Your breath stutters, eyes widening. “Nervous, pretty girl?” Ellie quirks a brow. She clicks something at the base of the strap, and suddenly, a sound vibrates with a low hum. 

You shake your head, but the anticipation, the way your legs shift, betrays you. Ellie just smirks, gripping your knee and spreading you open. 

“It’s okay” she says, and for a moment, her voice is softer “You can always tell me if it’s too much.”

A thread of something unspoken lingers between you, but then she’s pressing the tip against your soaked entrance, teasing, watching your breath hitch, and any softness vanishes into something much darker.

She pushes in—slow, stretching you inch by inch, letting you feel every single second of it.

You let out a sharp cry, your fingers flying up to grasp at her shoulders, nails digging in. Ellie groans at the sight, her pupils blown wide, her fingers flexing against your thigh as she stills for just a second, letting you adjust. “Shit…” she rasps, voice thick. “Taking me so fucking well.”

Your walls flutter around the length, the feeling making your whole body shudder. “F-fuck…” you whimper, the sound breathy, desperate.

Ellie grips your face with one hand, tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to look at her. “Tell me how it feels.” she demands, her thumb brushing over your parted lips.

“Good—so fucking good—Ells…” you gasp, your voice breaking as she bottoms up, letting you feel the thickness of the toy against your walls. Then, she shifts, gripping your hips tighter, pulling you flush against her as she sinks deeper, her thrusts picking up pace.

“Yeah?” Ellie breathes, watching the way your body trembles beneath her. “Gonna fuck you so good you won’t be able to think straight,”

Your head tilts back and your eyes dart shut as you moan, pleasure sparking through you like wildfire, but Ellie isn’t having that. “No.” she grits, leaning down, her breath hot against your ear. “Look at me.”

She grips your jaw, tilting your face back toward her, her lips just inches from yours. 

“I want you to look at me fucking you.”

The way she says it—so raw, so commanding—has you clenching around her, has your legs shaking as she fucks you harder, deeper, hitting that spongy spot inside you that makes your mind blank.

Your eyes flutter open, and what you see nearly ruins you. Ellie, flushed and wrecked with desire, watching you fall apart beneath her, completely at her mercy.

Her smirk returns, slow and knowing. “That’s my girl.”

“F-fuck, right there—Ellie, please!” you babble, your voice breaking as she adjusts the angle, pressing your knee up to your chest so she can sink in even deeper and hit that spot that makes you fall apart. Your fingers claw at her back, clinging to her as if letting go would shatter you completely.

Ellie groans, sweat slicking her forehead, the vibrations from the toy sending shocks of pleasure through her own body. She’s close, she knows it, but she wants you there first. Needs to see you unravel beneath her, to make you tighten around her.

Your moans turn into choked sobs of pleasure, your body going rigid as the coil inside you snaps. “I—shitt—I’m gonna—!”

And then it happens. Your back arches, your legs shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm crashes through you, your vision going white. The sheer intensity of it rips a cry from your throat, your nails digging deeper into her back as your body spasms.

“Jesus fucking christ…” Ellie curses, watching the way your release splashes everywhere, coating her toy, dripping down between your thighs and her lower abdomen. “Did you just—fuckk—did you just squirt?”

And just like that, with one last deep thrust, she shudders, her own orgasm overtaking her as the toy grinds against her in just the right way. “Oh god, I—”

Her muscles go taut, her forehead dropping against your shoulder as her breath leaves her in a sharp exhale. She rides it out, her body trembling against yours before she finally stills, catching her breath.

She’s careful as she pulls out, the slick sound making both of you shiver. A low whistle leaves her lips as she looks down at the mess between your legs.

You can’t form words, your body still convulsing, overstimulated and spent. Ellie watches you, chest heaving, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. “Goddamn…” she murmurs, grinning lazily as she flops beside you.

“You really did soak the bed.”

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the smell of coffee.

The second thing you notice is that your body hurts—a deep lingering soreness that reminds you exactly how last night went down. And let’s just say, it was a long night.

You stretch lazily against the sheets, tangled almost beyond saving, blinking against the light filtering through the curtains. The room is a mess, whiskey glasses half-empty on the nightstand, your dress discarded in a careless heap on the floor, the air still heavy with the scent of sex.

The steady hum of the shower echoes from the bathroom. You exhale, running a hand through your hair as you sit up, the sheets slipping down your bare skin covered only by your lace panties. Your fingers find the nearest whiskey glass, bringing it to your lips—only to find it empty.

You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. Of course. Ellie Williams never does leave you anything to sip on but trouble.

And then she walks in.

A towel slung over her shoulders, fresh boxers hanging low on her hips, a white tank top clinging to her still-damp skin. Her auburn short hair, darker from the shower, is pushed back in that frustratingly effortless way.

Your breath catches.

Maybe it’s the afterglow, or maybe it’s just her—but she looks too good. Unfairly good.

Ellie glances at you, grabbing her coffee cup from the table. “Damn, you survived.”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Barely.”

Your body feels wrecked, and you’re painfully aware of exactly why. But there’s no time to dwell on it—your fingers fumble for your phone on the nightstand, and when you check the time, your stomach drops.

Shit. You were supposed to be at the studio an hour ago.

With a sigh, you throw the sheets off and swing over the edge of the bed, standing on shaky legs. Ellie watches, her smirk widening, not even bothering to hide her amusement.

You shoot her a glare. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” She leans back against the dresser, legs spread, mug cradled loosely in her hands, eyes dragging over you in that slow, unhurried way. She’s memorizing every mark she left, every inch of bare skin now illuminated by the light. “Just appreciating the aftermath.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks warm anyway. Before you can shoot back a response, she tosses something your way—a soft bundle of fabric. You catch it midair, unfolding it. A T-shirt. Hers, obviously.

“This is all I’m getting?” you ask, lifting an eyebrow.

Ellie flops onto the edge of the bed, pulling on her jeans, that fucking smirk never leaving her lips. “What, you want a medal too?”

“No, dumbass. Pants.” You gesture to your mostly bare legs. “Or am I supposed to just strut out of here in nothing but this?”

Ellie hums, head tilting like she’s actually considering it. “I mean… yeah? Could be a serve.”

You glare. “Ellie.”

She grins, taking another slow sip of coffee. "Alright, alright. You can borrow something.”

You huff, pulling her shirt over your head, the fabric soft and smelling like her. “Generous.”

She snickers, getting up to rummage through her bag. A moment later, a pair of jeans lands on your lap. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

You unfold them and immediately groan.

“Oh, come on,” you grumble, holding up the jeans.“These are massive. I look like I raided my dad’s closet.”

Ellie, still perched against the dresser, tilts her head, eyes dragging over you in that slow, lazy way that makes your stomach flip. “Nah,” she muses, taking a sip of her coffee. “If you were wearing your dad’s jeans, they wouldn’t make me wanna fuck you all night again.”

Your breath catches—just for a second—before you recover, scoffing as you lob a pillow at her face. She dodges easily, laughing, while you mutter under your breath, pulling the jeans on. They hang ridiculously low on your hips, and you have to roll the waistband several times to make them even somewhat wearable. With a huff, you snatch a belt from the chair, looping it through and cinching it tight.

By the time you’re slipping on your shoes, Ellie is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, her smirk growing by the second. She’s watching you with that barely concealed amusement, like she’s holding back from making some smartass comment.

You narrow your eyes. “What?”

She nods toward your legs, lips twitching. “Nothing,” she says, voice dripping with amusement. “Just… loving the fit.”

You glance down at yourself—the borrowed jeans, the oversized shirt, and all of that paired with heels. The entire disheveled aftermath of last night wrapped up in one ridiculous outfit. It’s not your fault she wears jeans three sizes too big and still manages to look good.

You shoot her a glare, grabbing your phone from the nightstand. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re stealing my clothes.” She takes another sip of her coffee, watching you struggle with your belt. “Might as well start charging you rent.”

You roll your eyes and head for the door, but just as you reach the threshold, her voice stops you.

“Hey.”

You glance back over your shoulder, eyebrows raised in silent amusement.

Ellie, standing in the doorway, tilts her head, her lips curling into a playful grin. “Hope to see you around, superstar.”

You return the look, shrugging as you take a step backwards into the hallway. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Ellie chuckles under her breath, shaking her head in mock disbelief.

“Absolute fucking menace” 

The air outside bites at your skin as you step out of the hotel, the morning sun glaring too bright for your tired eyes. Your phone buzzes in your hand—a quick reminder that your driver is two minutes away.

You glance down at yourself: your own clothes abandoned somewhere in a hotel room you never bothered to retrieve, and Ellie’s oversized t-shirt draped over your frame, hanging just a little too big, screaming that it isn’t yours. Great.

You roll your shoulders, trying to shake off the ghost of last night’s lingering touch, the memory of her hands gripping your waist, her lips trailing over your skin. You told yourself it was just fun, a wild one night stand with a hot rockstar to take the edge off. 

But now, you can’t help but feel that your body still hums with the echo of her touch.

You don’t notice the subtle flicker of movement—a camera shutter clicking once, twice, in a quiet, practiced rhythm drowned out by the city noise.

The soft thud of the car door seals you off from the world, and as you settle into the seat, you catch your own scent—a heady mix that unmistakably smells just like her. You rest your head back and inhale slowly, grounding yourself as the car pulls away from the curb.

But you don't know that across the street, a photographer flips through his shots, zooming in on your face. 

You don’t know that in just an hour, your name will be trending worldwide—paired inseparably with hers.

And you don’t know that later, back in the hotel room, Ellie is still standing by the window, scrolling through her phone. She pauses, eyes narrowing as a fresh notification pops up, a text from her manager— with a TMZ headline.

Your name. 

Hers.

“Shit.”

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taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <333): @st0nerlesb0 @willurms @vahnilla @mancyw1214 @rxreaqia @laceyxrenee @antobooh @tittielover-420 @annoyingpersonxoxo @haithone @lofied @sunflowerwinds @xojunebugxo @reidairie @piscesthepoet @elliewilliamskisser2000 @pariiissssssss @mxquelo

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ OMG OMG OMG THAT SHI WAS INTENSEEE. its so long im sorry lmaooo. I did like 30 proofreads, but there might still be a few grammar mistakes here and there—sorry in advance, english isn't my first language and I will be happy to receive constructive criticism!.

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on the permanent taglist for this series!

see ya'll soon, stay tuned ;)