#expert at falling behind
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youtube
Today, it's time again for another racing game on this demo disc. It's not like I'll be good when I'm immediately thrust into an expert level.
#youtube#numberxxisora#demo disc friday#playstation underground magazine#ps2#titus software#smart dog#downforce#expert at falling behind
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hi hi okay imagine. stede wants to brush out ed's hair the way izzy always does. maybe izzy is busy on deck taking note of damages after a raid. maybe they had an infestation and he's going over ration spoilage and inventory with roach. ed is tired and cranky and absentmindedly separating sections of curls and tugging them apart at the bottom where they get stuck together in knots. stede offers to help with the tangles, says he would love to give it a go and help ed relax
izzy walks in a few minutes later and immediately comes up and tells stede he's doing it all wrong but also gently takes the brush from him and shows him the right way - where to hold the hair, how to start at the bottom with little sections and work his way up, when to start with his fingers instead of the brush. neither of them can see it but ed is smiling so much his face might actually burst
#ofmd hc#steddyhands#izzy hands#edward teach#stede bonnet#listen. you really think stede knows how to do hair#no way did he have an intimate enough connection with mary to do this for her#and alma's hair looks fairly thin and straight so even if he did give the occasional brush before bedtime long curly hair is so different#especially out in the ocean air?? that is not a ten second process to undo let me tell you#yes I'm strongly in club izzy-did-jeff's-hair but even if he didn't then I think it would have been ed#stede simply doesn't have the experience and know-how - yet#izzy on the other hand. i like to think this is something of a ritual that they have#ed sitting back with his leg stretched out at the end of a long day and izzy behind him first working out the tangles slowly bit by bit#then once all the tangles are gone just brushing from the top of his scalp down the full length of his hair in long and gentle strokes#izzy would have him practically purring and when he's done ed would be ready to fall asleep right then and there#izzy nudging ed to get into bed because he might not care now but he'll care in the morning if sleeping here fucks up his knee or back#(because no one is more of an expert at taking care of ed than izzy)#maybe their ritual can change to involve izzy starting on each section and undoing the worst of the knots with his fingers#then stede following it up with brushing out each section#stede doing the post-tangle brushing until ed's hair is as soft as it can be while izzy lies next to ed with his head in ed's lap#bonus: ed now gets to run his hands through izzy's hair too can you imagine#ANYWAY i'm here for this very soft tender stizzy moment of izzy teaching stede to properly care for ed#just a little post
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WOF tribe Merchant/Trading booth concepts:
Hey folks! This one was the recent winner of this WOF poll, so here’s my concept art that headcannons trading in Pyyria.
Read below cut for close-ups of the individual booths + the thought process / headcannons behind the design choices: 👇
Skywings: The Sky Kingdom’s mountain ranges provide plenty of pasture for raising sheep. As such, Skywing shepherds benefit from traveling to sell their wool, dyes, fabric, and woven tapestries. Many of these merchant tables also include herbs grown exclusively in the mountains, or ibex drinking horns that can be strapped on a dragon’s shoulder & carried in flight.
Along with goods, Skywing merchants may offer sewing services to fix tears, burn marks, or other fabric damage. They are sought out for their quality clothing, and most fabric across Pyyria originated from a Skywing’s talons.
Mudwings: Mudwings’ abundant food & cooking skills are envied almost anywhere in Pyrria. Their swamps have fertile soil, responsible for hosting diverse crops which can be purchased as produce at merchant stalls. For those lucky enough to find a traveling Mudwing merchant, the promise of a delicious dish can be whipped up and served at the stall in no time. Along with produce goods, Mudwings sell weaved baskets, spices, and cooking ware.
Sandwings: Sandwing booths offer luxuries of the desert: It’s most common to find accessories such as gold carved jewelry or musical instruments such as drums, lyres, & mandolins for sale. Though, even more sought out across Pyrria is Sandwing tattoos/piercings, which are done within the merchant areas. Ink etchings on papyrus paper are stationed outside their tents to showcase designs. All which can be selected, and poked into the skin with a tapping stick and plant dye ink by a trained talon.
Seawings: SeaWings sell a variety of ocean related goods; taking a share in the fish market with Icewings. Outside of food, there are den decorations like driftwood carvings, accessories such as seashell & pearl jewelry, and rope nets weaved by expert Seawing sailors. Some Seawings even sell fishing equipment, canoes, or offer sailor knot tying instructions to curious dragon buyers.
Nightwings: During the war, it was near impossible to find a Nightwing merchant. Most refused to participate in merchant territory, mostly as a way to keep up with their tribe’s mysterious nature.
Though in the more shady, unground parts of the market you can buy from a huge selection of obsidian weaponry, the sharpest in Pyyria. No one knew initially how Nightwings smithed so many weapons, or why, until their secret volcano kingdom and the intention to invade the rainforest was discovered. Then forging armor & weapons became clear. Along with a vast armory, for the right price, some Nightwing merchants offer Prophecies & Nightwing Literature (not always guaranteed to always be reliable) and assassin services as well (very reliable).
Rainwings: Though Rainwings haven’t been part of Pyyria’s trading for years, they have a vast hold on dragon medicine. An apothecary of herbs, salves, and remedies are all offered for various ailments due to the rainforest’s abundant resources. Along with medicinal goods, many Rainwings are fruit vendors, promising to any hesitant meat-eating dragons that such an array of flavors isn’t to be missed. Though, their fruit selling pitches often fall flat to most other predominantly meat-eating tribes.
Icewings: Icewings have everything a dragon could need to brace the cold, with a selection of goods only found in the most frigid regions of Pyyria. Furs, bone jewelry, and fresh fish (thanks to frost breath) are served on ice. Though Icewings themselves don’t require fur to withstand the cold, it’s considered fashionable and common in upper ranks to wear fur as a status symbol. Since metal is hard to smith without fire & in cold temperatures, fur and bone are more accessible to Icewings for clothing statements.
#art#illustration#bookart#wings of fire#wof#dragon#concept art#concept design#dragons#dragon art#wings of fire art#wingsoffire#wings of fire fanart#wof art#wof headcanon#wof tribes#skywing#Seawing#Mudwing#sandwing#rainwing#icewing#nightwing wof#nightwing#wof fanart#wings of fire headcanons#illustrative art#worldbuilding
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PROMPTS FOR ORDINARY THINGS THAT FEEL INTIMATE
* inspired by this post. these don't have to be romantic - you can specify romantic or not when you send them. in essence, these are simply intimate, affectionate moments to share with someone you love and care about. adjust as necessary, send 'reverse' for the reversal of the prompt
[ lean ] sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder
[ shop ] sender and receiver go to the grocery store together
[ brush ] sender brushes receiver's hair
[ tie ] sender helps receiver with their tie, either by putting it on or adjusting it
[ necklace ] sender helps receiver with the clasp of their necklace from behind
[ zip up ] sender assists receiver with zipping up a piece of clothing
[ unzip ] sender assists receiver with unzipping a piece of clothing
[ shoelaces ] sender bends down to tie receiver's shoelaces
[ swipe ] sender notices a smudge of something on receiver's face and gently wipes it off
[ braid ] sender braids receiver's hair
[ jacket ] sender takes their jacket off and hangs it on receiver's shoulders
[ puddle ] sender hurries to stop receiver from stepping into a puddle
[ drinks ] sender brings receiver a drink from a bar/their kitchen
[ feed ] sender feeds receiver's pet/s for them
[ cook ] sender and receiver cook a meal together
[ feed ] sender allows receiver to try a bite of their dish, holding their fork out for receiver to taste
[ teach ] sender, an expert at something, takes time to teach receiver how it works and how they can get better at it, too
[ readjust ] sender comes up behind receiver and readjusts their stance (maybe holding a gun, holding a golf club, aiming for something, etc.) to help them
[ makeup ] sender fixes receiver's makeup for them
[ bathroom ] sender and receiver go to a public restroom together and have a normal conversation in between the stalls
[ aloud ] sender reads aloud to receiver
[ refill ] sender refills receiver's glass without asking
[ massage ] sender notices receiver looks tense, steps up behind them, and massages their shoulders
[ listen ] sender listens to receiver explain something they're passionate about
[ silence ] sender and receiver comfortably exist in silence together, both of them working or reading or focusing on something different
[ food ] sender brings food over to receiver's house
[ hum ] sender hums along to a song receiver is singing
[ see ] sender sees something that reminds them of receiver and texts them a picture of it
[ admire ] sender stares at receiver across a room, silently admiring and appreciating them from afar
[ win ] sender lets receiver beat them in a game
[ puzzle ] sender helps receiver solve/put together a puzzle
[ carry ] after receiver falls asleep in an inconvenient place, sender carries them to a bed and tucks them in
[ kneel ] sender finds receiver sick in the bathroom ("tossing their cookies"), and kneels beside them, holding their hair back and cleaning their face
[ clean ] sender helps bathe receiver
[ wash ] sender helps receiver wash their hair
[ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds
#mcflymemes#mine#action prompts#romantic prompts#rp prompt#rp meme#rp memes#roleplay memes#roleplay prompt#rp starters#ask meme#ask memes#roleplay meme#roleplay inbox prompts#rp inbox meme#inbox prompt#inbox meme#sentence starter prompt#sentence starter#sentence starters
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🧚🏽Astrology Notes🧚🏽
🎸If Jupiter is in the first, fourth, seventh, tenth house, it should protect the person from major accidents. Jupiter in the 11th house means many friends. Jupiter in the 9th house means long journeys, usually paid for by someone else. Jupiter in the 4th house means that the person has a very religious family and that he will not live where he was born.
If Saturn is in the falling house (third, sixth, ninth, twelfth), circumstances may arise during that period, but you only become aware of them a few years later. If Saturn is in an angular house (fourth, seventh, tenth) at the time of birth, it sets a pattern that a person will follow throughout his life.
Saturn in the first, second or third house can indicate a burden on a person already in his early life. This is often because of the father. Saturn in the 4th house means that the individual will build a larger valuable property.
If the Sun is in a corner house (first, fourth, seventh, tenth), this means that the exercise of individuality will be visible to others. It makes the power that can bring you fame.
If the Sun is in one of the following houses (second, fifth, eighth, eleventh), this tends to give up publicity and the individual must progress on his own. If it is accepted by the public, it is not based on a personal initiative, as the main position of the sun sign would suggest. Follow-up houses often lead y dealing with other people's lives and/or their property.
If the Sun is in the falling houses (third, sixth, ninth, twelfth), this indicates that the individual thrives best behind the scenes. It makes an individual who serves. The beauty and strength of this individual are visible only to those closest to him in close contact with him.
Uranus is the planet that shows the clairvoyance of a person and the premonitions that a person has. But it is also a planet associated with astrology.
Mercury and Uranus: each aspect helps the person to communicate well. A person writes a horoscope.
Sun and Uranus: this is one of the more important aspects. No matter how aspected it brings a person great success in the field of astrology. And people will accept him as an expert and trust that person. You will become an authority figure, so you can make sure that you are honest.
Pluto rules kidnappings and gangsters. And many people do not know that pluto is also the co-ruler of Aries. So people who have a lot of Aries and act mysteriously is also part of it.
Cancer rising people are very sensitive when someone is rude to them. They take it to heart when someone is rude to them, especially authority figures. They are very used to home and family and it is difficult for them to be with people who are not their family for a long time. Let's say: if someone takes them to a doctor, they will always want it to be a person who is related to them.
Capricorn rising people are basically unaffected by things. And they are used to people being harsher towards them. are basically unaffected by things. And they are used to people being harsher towards them. They have tough skin and are generally not that personal as a sign. They look at things from a different perspective.
Aquarius Sun tend to want more friendly relationships than romantic ones. They don't like you controlling them or telling them what to do. But they are prone to long engagements. They also say that Aquarians do not like flashy and provocative clothes, jewelry and make-up. Although it all depends on what other signs a person has.
Venus:
Venus in Aries- are often selfish in love and will always put themselves first. And it is considered unstable venus.
Venus in Taurus- are very frugal with money. In love, however, they are loyal, deep and lasting.
Venus in Gemini- in love, they tend to flirt or have several relationships at the same time.
Venus in Cancer- are emotional and tend towards the domestic environment. They can be better parents than partners. This position is not always favorable for marriage.
Venus in Leo- love to spend, especially on people they love. They like attention. They are frank, honest and sometimes too kind-hearted.
Venus in Virgo-Venus falls here. They are artistic, but they are also emotionally closed. They tend to be critical. Once they commit, they don't let up.They are often disappointed in relationships and have several.
Venus in Libra- are young at heart, often indecisive. They are determined hosts. They often marry early.
Venus in Scorpio- are passionate, intense, mysterious, jealous. They strongly desire to know the hidden motives of others. He is quick to rate people. They can have a hard time forming relationships.
Venus in Sagittarius- are positive, sincere, passionate, irresistible. They are very idealistic, philosophical. They are intuitive, loyal and love a mystical way of life. They have many friends.
Venus in Capricorn- usually not open, they are calculating, serious, careful. They are often disappointed in love, so they are afraid of relationships. They can get married for the sake of society. They marry a person who can be quite different.
Venus in Aquarius - aloof in love, quickly establish contacts with strangers. They are usually more friendly than romantic. They tend to have multiple relationships.
Venus in Pisces- often fantasize about their love life. They are sensitive and also depressed. Music has a good effect on them.
The first house covers areas of life such as: early life impression, causes of financial losses, long journeys of children and their religious inclinations, friends of brothers and sisters.
The third house covers areas of life such as: incidental sciences, willpower, speech and hearing, reasons for moving away from home, long journeys of a spouse.
The fifth house covers areas of life such as: spouse's friends, grandchildren's long journeys, person's passions, ways of relaxation, cause of bankruptcy.
The seven house covers areas of life such as: the description and characteristics of a marriage partner, friends in other countries, rivalries, quarrels and fights, enemies and rivals, things that are the most difficult for a person to achieve, the outcome of diseases, the mentality of children, the later life conditions of the father in the female chart, later life conditions of the mother in the male chart.
The eighth house covers areas of life such as: natural death of a person, business friends, transition to the astral world, gateway to the spiritual world, acquisitions due to partnership, acquisitions due to marriage, investigation of lawsuits, short trips to work.
The second house covers areas of life such as: inner emotions and feelings, financial visions, the propriety of borrowing money, a person's ingenuity, the ability to be comfortable, what you give is what you get, family friends, time and reputation of children, inheritances and inheritances by marriage partner, cause of death partner.
The fourth house covers areas of life such as: family traditions, situations in later life, kitchen, causes of sadness due to love relationships, inheritances from other countries.
The sixth house covers areas of life such as: favors, small animals, attitude to diet, restrictions due to marriage, restrictions due to partner, working conditions, food, clothing.
The ninth house covers areas of life such as: rites and ceremonies, types of church, gains from spiritual experiences, gains from psychic experiences, the person's consciousness, the hygienic conditions of the person's home, the care or neglect of property, the mentality of the spouse, the health of the parent of the opposite sex, the end of the life of uncles, restrictions or losses in business, situations of children's romantic relationships.
The tenth house covers areas of life such as: the house of pride, reward karma, grief and loss of friends, long journeys due to money matters, children's health, the cause of death of loved ones, the end of the life of a spouse, money that you can earn from traveling.
The eleventh house covers areas of life such as: societies and organizations to which one belongs, punishments, fines that a person has to pay, the way money is spent, agreements in foreign countries, attitude towards entertainment of the spouse, potential cause of loss of property, health of uncles and aunt on your mother's side.
The twelfth house covers areas of life such as: a symbol of the most difficult battles, a symbol of the most difficult tasks, a symbol of accidents, losses, fate, enemies, hospitals, asylums, the house of spies, the cause of the end of romantic relationships, residence in a foreign country, how someone sleeps and relaxes, house hindsight, self-analysis, friends' finances, friends' acquisitions, closest point of contact with a person's soul.
🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸
-Rebekah🧚🏽🪐🎸
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only 'til dawn. [ljn]
pairing ⋆ badboy!jeno x inexperienced/goodgirl!reader
wordcount ⋆ 2.7k+
warnings ⋆ SMUT MINORS DNI!!!, softdom!jeno, smoking, shotgunning, car sex, big dick jeno, corruption, praise, light degradation, oral (m receiving), cowgirl, spanking (once), light choking, creampie...
note ⋆ i had to leave this one in my drafts for some time first because i didn't want to upload two car sex fics in a row then i wanted to rewrite it then i couldn't be asked to do that fully... so yeah, enjoy :D
"fuck," jeno drawls out as his head lolls to the side, "you're shit at this." he chuckles at your feeble attempt to give him a blowjob.
you look up at him, he seems totally unphased by your attempts to get him off, even going as far as to fish a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket. the scowl that forms on your brow shows how much it dents your pride; he smirks down at you tauntingly.
"open your mouth a little more." he places a cigarette between his lips and lights the end. "you don't mind if i smoke, right?" you roll your eyes, he could have asked before. at least he had the courtesy to wind the window down.
there was no reason for you to debase yourself like this, the whole situation is beyond demeaning. you’re on your knees in the back of jeno’s car, struggling to please him and now he’s having a smoke mid-head?!
it felt as if your jaw was about to unhinge at any moment, you didn’t know it could stretch this far. the girls in the videos made it look so easy, compared to them, the way you were slobbering all over his girth was far from sexy. not to mention how you were clumsily pumping the rest of his length. not to toot your own horn, but you picked things up easily, this was a whole different ballpark to academic work.
"you're too big," you whine. your lack of experience definitely didn't have anything to do with the shoddy head you were giving. how he was still hard was a wonder, you’re sure he’s seconds away from going flaccid.
normally, he would have put an end to the whole thing. it's not like he wasn't one text away from a few girls that could suck the soul out of him. however, considering how unsavoury his reputation was, the fact that you, the university’s golden girl, and much-revered student union president, were so eager to please him behind closed doors inflated his ego more than anything else could.
he couldn’t help but find humour in how ardently you refused to acknowledge him in public at times like this; if you spotted him on campus you looked the other way. but the moment he shot you a text, you were swooning and giggling, begging to meet up. so, here you were, in the dead of night, at the back of an empty parking lot a couple of miles away from campus.
“you’re lucky you have a patient teacher, i’m going to turn you into an expert!” jeno directs you between drags of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the windows as he laughs at you being unable to get the hang of it. saying you feel frustrated would be an understatement.
"i don't want to do this anymore," you sit up, finally admitting defeat and letting his heavy cock flop down against his abdomen. if jeno were a better person, he would have stopped you a few minutes ago, but you were so eager to please him and he loved the adorable pout on your lips and how your brows furrowed whenever you were exasperated.
"then what do you want to do?" you can think of a few things, but they would be super embarrassing to say. so, you refused to answer. he sighs before slotting his cigarette between his lips, leaving his hands free to pull you onto his lap.
"wanna try?" you don't know what possesses you, but you nod.
how bad can it be?
he taps the burnt end off, letting the ashes fall out the window before setting the cigarette between your lips. it feels childish to admit, but the fact that you had shared an indirect kiss makes you smile. this doesn't last long, though; after a short pull, you end up choking.
"god, that's awful!" you squeak as he belly laughs, only stopping when you hit his chest. all he's done tonight is tease you.
"i thought so too when i first tried." he soothes you, so as to not incur any more of your light-handed wrath. "why don't we start with some baby steps?"
you're unsure what he means until his large, rough hand is placed gently under your jaw and his thumb brushes over your lower lip, "open up for me, angel."
he takes a long drag before tilting his head to the side and filling your mouth with a thick cloud of smoke. you're not sure what this is, but it feels intimate. it feels as if he’s breathing life into you. your whole body warms and tingles, your head spins, and a fire lights in your core.
once his lungs are empty, he seals it with a kiss. it's slow and passionate. his hand slides round to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. maybe it’s the nicotine running through your veins, you feel lightheaded. you let him slip his tongue past your lips to dance around your own.
the sweet flavour of your strawberry lip balm he was used to intermingled with the bitterness of his cigarette. he can't help but groan at the fact you taste a lot more like him now.
the cigarette he's momentarily forgotten in his hand gets flicked away to burn to a butt somewhere on the tarmac outside. his now free hand comes to rest on your hip. it guides your body forwards, bringing your clothed centre flush against his bare cock.
you mewl into his mouth, he swallows down the sound. he’s greedy for more and starts rocking against you. grinding out then gulping down your noises, they go straight down to his cock. it’s throbbing, you can feel how painfully hard he is underneath you. only when he’s met with an uncomfortable stickiness due to his precum seeping through his shirt does he put an end to his gluttony.
a begrudging whine fills the car as he pulls your lips away from him. the look in his eyes alone was almost enough to make you cream, it was different to the cocky, yet lewd, eye fucking that seemed to be his default. those dark eyes of his turned into endless pits of boundless desire.
warm hands glide under your sweater, tugging it over your head, off your body to let it land somewhere in the front of his car. he does the same with his own shirt, sitting back to let you admire the rippling muscles on his torso. you delicately placed a hand on his chest, sliding it down to his abdomen; it seems he doesn’t have to have his dick in your mouth to have you drooling over him.
“like what you see, baby?” the smug look on his face makes your stomach twist.
“shut up,” you smash your lips against his again before he can speak again.
jeno rushes to unclasp your bra, pushing the fabric out of his way so he can knead at your breasts; not before long, his mouth leaves you to pepper kisses down your neck then it encloses around one of your pert nipples.
“mmm, jeno!” you mewl as his tongue laps at the bud, causing your back to arch in search of more stimulation. a hand weaves itself into his inky, thick locks, pushing him to give attention to the other side. “jeno, more!”
“i love hearing you say my name,” he growls against your chest, “wanted to hear you say it all week, but you don’t even spare me a glance unless i have my cock out.”
you ignore the slight bitterness in his tone focusing on how he nips at your skin, leaving dark marks he hopes will last until he next sees you. marks that he hopes others will see and know you belong to someone; you’ll probably chastise him later over text but he doesn’t care, anything to keep him on your mind like you're always on his.
reluctantly, he detaches himself from your chest and sits back, eyeing the drying traces of saliva he left with a dazed smile.
“what next? tell me.” his hands delicately caress your hips, your cheeks begin to heat up and you avoid his eye contact. “don’t act all coy now, where’s the girl that begged me to drive her out here and fuck her dumb?”
you were still clinging onto the last dregs of your virtuous good girl persona - the last white spots on a canvas he had first found unsullied. your first sin had been naivety, too easily seduced by a good-looking face and the sweet nothings he whispered in your ears but he had been more than happy to lengthen the list.
you wondered if this was how you had always been - or was he corrupting you. he broke down every conception you had of yourself and no one outside of the car you both sat in would believe this was you - you barely did yourself. some would say he was ruining you, but he’d never make you do something you didn’t want to, this was all you.
“please…” you let your head fall onto the crook of his neck, voice barely above a whisper. “want you inside.”
“a smart girl like you can be more descriptive than that.” he strokes a finger down your back, leaving a trail of heat on your spine, in hopes of prompting lewder vocabulary. you take a moment to chew your bottom lip and swallow down the last bit of dignity you had.
“please, fuck me.” you weep against the shell of his ear, “fill my pussy up, i need you so bad, jeno.”
“sound so pretty when you tell me what you want.” his low-toned praise makes you shiver as he flips your skirt up and raises your hips. he pushes your panties to the side to position his cock at your dripping entrance. taking a second to tease your slit, making sure to brush over your swollen clit, only to hold you still when your hips jerk forward.
“look at me, angel.” you perk up for him, “so beautiful,” he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. his gaze holds yours firmly as he brings you down on his bulbous tip, stretching you out slowly.
you struggle to keep your eyes from shutting. your mouth hangs open letting out hushed gasps as you sink down an inch at a time. he thinks you’re the prettiest creature he’s ever laid eyes on.
“keep going... yeah, just like that... so good...” his soft gaze, light touch and encouraging words make things easier. he can feel your walls begin to relax and hungrily accept his girth.
“‘s so fucking big,” you wail out, not even having taken him fully. you couldn’t quite yet without his help, though you’ll get there eventually - he’d make sure of that.
“i know, baby, but you take me so well. can you move for me?” you nod shyly, lifting yourself and dropping back down as far as you can with a long whine. up and down, you split yourself open over and over.
jeno’s hands press into your flesh, silently encouraging you to take more of him. you work your hips faster, earning a deep groan from him as his head falls back. instinctively, your mouth attaches itself to his neck, mimicking the way he had kissed and sucked at your own earlier.
“for such a sweet, innocent girl, you sure do ride like a slut.” he breathily laughs as his hand comes down on your ass with a sounding slap. “like the way my cock stretches this tight cunt out.” there’s no hiding the way your walls clench at the sharp sting. you try to find refuge from your embarrassment by hiding your face in his shoulder, but he quickly takes ahold of your throat, forcing you to sit up straight.
“don’t hide from me,” he tells you warningly and squeezes your neck lightly. once again your eyes lock, his stare as intense as ever. your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you rest your hands on his strong chest, adopting a faster pace.
he lets out moans which you naturally reciprocate, however, you embellish yours with his name; you feel his cock twitch at the sound of it. the look in his eyes turns wild as his fingers dig deeper into the meat of your ass, forming a nearly bruising grip; with the other hand, he’s careful not to cut off airflow but forms a hold that leaves you feeling dizzy.
“you know exactly what you do to me.” he chuckles, “you were fucking made for me, made for taking my cock, weren’t you? yeah, so perfect, angel.”
your legs begin to shake, his words and his cock are quickly pushing you towards the pinnacle. you try your very best to work through the overwhelming pleasure and the ache in your thighs, wanting to get him off since you failed at sucking his dick. but you can't seem to power through it, tears well in your eyes as everything becomes too overwhelming, it's far too much.
“need help, baby?” his soft spot for you wins, “did such a good job for me. i’ll take care of you, make you cum all over my cock. want that?”
“please, need to cum so bad.” his hand leaves your neck and places itself and your other asscheek. he plants his feet firmly and then rams up into you.
your brain goes blank in an instant.
he’s deep. so deep. too deep!
you cry out, nails digging into his broad, muscular shoulders to anchor yourself. the tears that had threatened to leave your eyes before stream down your face, staining your cheeks. your whole body quivers as his cock lays kisses on your cervix with each thrust.
“jeno, oh my god, right there!” you practically scream. his face screws at the feeling of your walls constricting, getting tighter by the second and making it harder to move; he powers through by jackhammering into you with more force.
it feels like you could break at any moment, he's bouncing you on his cock like you're a ragdoll and you're too weak to do anything but take and enjoy it. all it takes is a few more thrusts before you’re creaming all over him. your body seizes as your eyes roll back, and his name tumbles from your lips incessantly in pleasured sobs.
it’s hard to keep you in one place as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, but he handles your squirming body with ease using his strength. the most ungodly wet squelches fill the car as he races towards his own release, your sticky mess clings to both of your thighs.
“shit… pussy’s sucking me in so deep, gonna cum.” his chest rises and falls dramatically, he can barely breathe. his thrusts get choppier as he loses himself to the feral urge to paint your insides pearly white.
a heavy groan rips through him as his balls tighten, he nestles his cock nice and deep as he pours hot spurts of cum into you. he fills you with warmth; you feel complete for a moment. unfortunately, all good things must come to an end eventually.
you could almost start crying again when he pulls you off of him. his praise on how well you took his cum as it dribbles out of your cunt makes up for it, though. his tongue swipes across his lips as he watches it drip all over his cock, unbothered by the fact half of it is soiling his leather car seats too.
the sound of your wild breathing is all that fills the car for a moment until his lips find yours one last time. breathlessly kissing you, there is less vigour than before but just as much passion. your heart warms for a moment at the almost bashful smile on his face as he rests his forehead against yours and wipes the tears that still cling to your soft skin.
this feels right, perfect even, but it only takes a few words for him to fuck it all up.
“wanna come over to mine?” jeno regrets his words immediately, the expression on your face sour at the thought of someone spotting you walking into his dorm or one of his loud-mouthed roommates blabbering about you spending the night together.
give jeno a hand and he’ll end up taking the whole arm.
you pull away from him suddenly remembering who you are.
“don’t be ridiculous, you know i can’t even be caught dead with you.” you grimace at the mess between your legs as you reposition your panties; then, you search for the clothing he had strewn around the car.
you don’t even look at him when you demand him to. “just drop me off where you usually do.”
jeno grins even at your cold-hearted rejection. not just anyone could say they had a place between your legs; he’s sure he’ll have a place in your heart too soon enough…
★ thanks for reading! my inbox is open for feedback and requests! :3
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SLEIGHT OF HAND | LYNEY
summary you will not let lyney get to you. unfortunately, lyney already got to you the moment you met eyes. after all, what is a magician if not an expert in stealing hearts?
or, local sumeru architect goes to fontaine looking for inspiration and comes out of it with three rainbow roses and a crushing magician.
warnings 13+, gn!reader, follows the fontaine archon quest, so there are major spoilers throughout the entire fic! MURDER (lyney trial spoilers) + feminine french pet names ough + bff!Aether loml + sweet talker lyney + KISS SCENE (suggestive)
notes 8K words. thank u to my french bff art @aanobrain who said lyney is a magician he would say mon lapin 🤧❤️ + other various french pet names. thank u to ellie hyomagiri & earthtooz too for hyping this up, my supporters…
“500,000!?”
Sumeru streets are always bustling with its people—from children skipping around the neighborhood to frantic scholars who zip back and forth before returning to their homes when the moon is high. However, the sun is beating down on everyone right now: street vendors are making a profit, dogs are barking as they play fetch with laughing children, and you stand across the blond traveler and his floating companion.
You wince at the volume of Paimon’s shrill voice, inciting bypassers to send miffed glances your way. Embarrassed, you cover the side of your face with a hand, whispering, “Is—is that not enough? I can—”
“No, no, it’s not that!” Paimon’s arms flail around, eyes blown comically wide. “It’s just, you know, more than what we earn from our daily commissions combined!”
“Oh, I see.” you nod, relieved. “Well, I can lower—”
“No, no, no, no,” Paimon interjects hurriedly, and even the traveler shakes his head. “Pleasure to do business with you! Paimon and Aether, at your service!”
“Really?” you can’t believe your luck—the traveler himself agreed to escort you to Fontaine! Or does it count if Paimon agrees on his behalf? “That's a relief. Even Katheryne of the guild had a strange expression when I posted my commission.”
“It’s probably because of the amount of zeroes you might’ve accidentally put,” Paimon murmurs.
Aether tugs on her foot as if warning her. “We'll be leaving soon. Are you prepared?”
“Oh, yes. My stuff’s over there by the bench, you see?”
Aether and Paimon’s faces simultaneously fall. “All of that?” Paimon starts counting it, gaping when she has four little fingers held up.
They sure complain a lot. “You can still back out.”
Aether takes a deep breath, making his way over to your luggage. When he brushes past, you hear him chanting 500,000; 500,000; 500,000 under his breath. He wordlessly carries all of them, his chest puffed and expression grave.
“They’re heavier than I thought,” Aether wheezes out as Paimon flits worriedly around him. “How long are you going to be staying in Fontaine?”
“Oh, just a day or two, maybe,” you say, taking pity and taking one bag from him. “Most of what’s inside are art supplies.”
“Ah,” Aether says.
“500,000,” Paimon reminds him.
“We’re close,” Paimon says, flying back to where you and Aether are still walking behind, him heaving and you offering water now and then. “I saw a huge ravine-looking view! It was like a city on a waterfall!”
“R-Really?” Aether puffs out a breath, sweat rolling off his temple.
You tried prying some of your bags away from him when it seemed like there were monsters up ahead, but he refused instead to fight them with one hand on his sword. He still won. You guessed that he was trying to make traveling easier for you, yet all you felt was immense worry.
“Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” Paimon asks, floating beside you. “You look unwell.” You should ask your companion that, instead.
“I’m a bit nervous. After all, it’s my first time traveling outside of Sumeru.” You smile, patting her head. She doesn’t seem to mind, beaming back. “But I need to get out of my comfort zone to be better, right?”
“That's right! Paimon has a feeling you’ll enjoy Fontaine!” You and Paimon glance at Aether when he heaves a heavy breath, yet he only waves the pair of you off with his free hand. “Before you know it, you’ll be itching to travel again once you’re back in Sumeru.”
“I'm only there for work. I just need to learn a lot, and then I'll enjoy it.”
“Still a student through and through, huh…”
“I can see it,” Aether chimes in, looking all too relieved to rest his arm finally. “I can see Fontaine up ahead.”
You feel the cool breeze brush against your face, a refreshing change from the past hours you and the other two have been trudging through the desert. You could strip off layers and dive if you could. You can make out the harbor even miles away, pouring water out like an endless waterfall stretching for miles.
Arriving in Fontaine is introducing yourself to the rustle of layered skirts, the water-kissed smell, and citizens left and right babbling about tragic endings and thrilling climaxes.
Aether sets your bags on the floor with a heavy exhale. Paimon feeds him with another jug of water.
“I guess we’re here now.” You pull out a heavy pouch you’ve been keeping in one of the bags Aether had been holding over his shoulder. Paimon takes it with greedy, greedy hands. “Thank you for keeping me safe and carrying my luggage, Traveler— are you even listening to me?”
“There’s a girl over there,” Aether says, now staring ahead.
You and Paimon turn to look; sure enough, someone is standing by the edge, looking forlornly over the water. Half of her foot is off the platform, making Paimon fidget.
She gasps. “She isn’t going to jump into the water, is she? Maybe we should go check on her…”
Halfway through Paimon’s sentence, you gathered the courage to speak to the girl with the cat ears.
“Hey, miss.” Her ear twitches. “Is something the matter?”
She turns, looking faintly surprised. If you weren’t so close to her, you wouldn’t have been able to tell there was a change in her expression. “I'm fine. thank you.”
“Oh.” Now things are a little awkward. “Is there something in the water you’re looking at? You might slip if you keep tipping forward.”
She peers below, unworried—silent.
“As long as you’re okay, I guess,” you sigh, awkwardly hovering above her shoulder when realizing it might come off strange if you touch her. “I’ll leave you be.”
Her lips twitch, something close to a smile. You don’t stick long enough to admire it, heading back to Aether and Paimon and shrugging at their inquisitive looks. “She says she’s fine.”
“I think it’s time for me to separate,” you say. “I want to take all of it in as much as possible. Paimon has my payment. Thank you both so much for keeping me safe.” Mostly Aether, though. But Paimon was there, emotionally.
“It’s no problem,” Aether says, his smile warmer than when you first met him. “Stay safe out there. You can look for us if you need anything else.”
“I don’t always pay 500,000 for each of my commissions.”
Paimon wilts. Aether flushes, stammering, “Not what I meant.” You laugh heartily as they wave when you walk off to the aquabus, hopefully, prepared for what Fontaine will give you.
Your sketchbook is a page away from completion when you hear about a magic show at the Opera House. Not that it was hard to miss—everyone and their grandmothers were prattling about nothing else but the entire day.
Fontaine is known for its love for dramatics, but the twins they keep mentioning must be a one-of-a-kind spectacle to have half their region’s population speak about them so reverently.
After wandering for hours, taking in the endless sights of fresh water streaming and grand castle-like modern buildings, you find yourself in the Fountain of Lucine. You’ve heard of Fontaine being somewhat titled the ‘City of Love,’ but seeing couples surrounding each nook and cranny of the tourist spots was still astonishing.
(You console yourself by thinking that there’s something romantic in sketching frantically while the rest of the crowd are sucking faces.)
To your luck, you spot three familiar heads in the fountain plaza.
Aether senses you before you can even say anything, glancing to the side and smiling when you wave at him.
Paimon flutters excitedly. “Y/N! We didn’t think we’d see you again this early. You look like you’re glowing.”
“Was it that obvious?” you laugh sheepishly. “Fontaine is beautiful; I couldn’t even stick too long in one place before I see something else that catches my attention.” You look to the girl you met earlier, who nods politely. “Hello. Are you three acquainted now?”
“Mhm!” Paimon says, hands on her hips. “This is Lynette! She’s inviting us to the show they’re holding here!” She gasps, “Speaking of—”
“Ah,” Lynette says quietly, “I couldn’t get an extra ticket. I’m sorry.”
Lynette is the magician you keep hearing about? With her seemingly reserved personality, you wouldn’t have guessed it. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Paimon,” Aether speaks up. “They gave you your ticket, right? Why don’t you just float next to me or sit on my lap?”
Paimon’s eyes sparkle. “Great idea! That way, I can give my seat to Y/N, right?”
“You guys…” Your chest feels warm as Aether hands you one of the two tickets in his hand. “You really didn’t have to.” Is this what 500,00 gets you? The loyal companionship of Aether and Paimon?
“It’s a good idea,” Lynette says. “My brother wouldn’t want you to miss the show. He’d be devastated.”
“If you insist, then I suppose I can’t refuse.” Aether and Paimon do a cute little cheer. “But I need to return to the hotel; I can’t be watching a magic show carrying all these.” Surely Aether can understand.
Later, with your hands finally empty and charcoal-free, you rush back to the Opera Epiclese, the person standing guard kind enough to open the doors despite being a minute late.
“Welcome, one and all, to the Opera Epiclese!” The audience roars with cheers as the spotlight illuminates a figure on the center of the stage. You hurry to your seats, brushing past Aether and Paimon. “I am the star of today’s show, Lyney.”
Lyney bows, then stands upright with a Cheshire cat grin.
The thunder of the crowd’s applause is deafening. If you weren’t able to see it, you’d think that you hadn’t been clapping at all—senses numbed and your fixed stare all on the boy on the stage.
Your eyes catch on the small braid on the side of his head before the gleam of his eyes hypnotizes you.
He’s handsome, you think dizzily at the back of your head.
“Don’t blink,” he says, his voice lower as if meant to be a whisper, “or else you might miss it.”
The show proceeds. A dove soars away from inside as he flips his hat; you flush at hearing the soft laughter that slips from him after. The cards that materialize out of nowhere descend to the floor. His fingers shuffle the cards while talking to keep the audience satiated; they fly off his hands, yet he doesn’t lose focus, stretching them mid-air with a sleight of hand. They fall apart and come together neatly and precisely.
His stage presence is demanding. It would be as if Lady Furina herself would accuse you of committing a crime if you were to look away for even a second.
Then, when he scans the crowd, busy twirling his cards in his fingers, his gaze catches your awed ones.
Something in the air shifts. Or maybe it’s that it slows.
A card slips from his grasp. A mistake. He blinks and breaks eye contact, laughing heartily to play it off. But you don’t believe it—not when you swore your limbs locked in place as well when lilac drilled into your soul.
You breathe, hands bracing against your chest. What was that?
You would’ve played it off as something you imagined if not for Lyney continuing to glance at you occasionally. His slip-up had been forgotten, as though it was all part of the show.
(Is it also part of the show when it seems he’s unable to tear his eyes off of you?)
Of course, the twins prove their worth. They showed you exactly why the people of Fontaine adore watching them through theatrical magic, cards in their sleeves, and defying logic.
You’ve shuffled to the edge of your seat as Lynette disperses into bubbles and comes back alive. You’ve held your breath as Lyney emerges from the box across he was in a moment earlier.
You’ve also been witness to the murder of Cowell.
CRASH.
The shatter of glass resounded along with the horrified gasps of the audience. Sickeningly enough, you could almost hear the crack of bones if you hadn’t been crying out in alarm. Yet, as they gape and shriek over the sight of a limp arm popping out, you find your gaze tracing back to Lyney, who stands motionless in front of the box.
When Lady Furina points fingers and has everyone siding against him, the guards escort the audience from the Opera House. All evidence presented left Lyney in a spotlight unlike his performance: with a disgusted and unamused crowd. Even you have to agree that it isn’t looking well for his case at all.
Yet all you can think of as you leave the room is that Lyney looked as terrified as everyone else was—much too raw of an expression for someone to accuse him of anything at all. He looked young and scared.
(His hands were shaking.)
The rest of your Fontaine trip is admittedly duller when you’re a little more familiar with its city and don’t have a yapping little fairy and a capable Traveler by your side. It’s hard not to hear chatter about the events that went down: Lyney’s trial, Aether volunteering to be his lawyer, and the truth behind the real murderer.
It solved a case beyond the murder of Cowell. Fontaine sure has its mysteries, and the crowd sure loves them as they would a magic show.
You keep your hands busy. Last night, you found yourself thinking back to the magic show, to deft fingers weaving through cards, to violet eyes that kept on flickering to you. By the time you snap back to reality, you’ve subconsciously drawn shapes and lines that suspiciously look like the magician himself: the curve of a smile, piercing eyes, and you entranced by it all.
Flustered, you crumple his face staring back at you out of sight. Yet you can’t bring yourself to throw it away.
You shove the last bit of garlic baguette in your mouth to furiously bat these unwanted thoughts away.
“Isn’t that Y/N?” Paimon’s voice is unmistakable, a short distance off.
You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Aether and Paimon waving and walking over to you. You thought they'd already left Fontaine after that; you wouldn’t blame them if they did.
“Y/N! We haven’t seen you since the Opera House performance,” Paimon exclaims, twirling around your head like a thrilled fly circling a trash can.
You hold onto her back, hoping she’ll stop making you dizzy. “We were escorted out before I could say goodbye. I couldn’t watch the court trial but heard it all turned out fine.”
“That’s right!” Paimon nods proudly. “Paimon helped a ton during it; you should’ve seen it! What have you been doing?”
“I found a fellow architect while visiting the cafe nearby, and we chatted for hours,” you say, remembering that your voice is hoarse for that reason. You also don’t tell them you couldn’t get a certain magician off your mind. “I learned a lot. I don’t regret coming here one bit.”
Paimon says something else that you’re sure you’ve nodded absentmindedly at while your gaze wanders over to the two familiar people a few feet behind, watching you three with cat-like eyes—and it’s not just because of Lynette’s unique features.
“Those are the magicians, right?” you gesture behind Paimon and Aether as if you haven’t already familiarized yourself with their faces.
Paimon nods. “Uh-huh. You should introduce yourself! They look like they want to talk.”
Something about that feels foreboding. “Um, no, it’s fine. I don’t want to be rude and interrupt your conversation.”
“No,” Aether says firmly. He seldom speaks; you might as well play along if he says so. “Besides, Paimon is right. Lyney wants to talk to you, you know?”
“Oh, yeah! He kept mentioning seeing someone sitting beside us! And it couldn’t have been Neuvillette because he said it was an unfamiliar beauty that bewitched this weak magician’s heart.” Paimon nods, even recalling how he’s enunciated each syllable theatrically.
“I’m sorry?” you blurt. “Lyney recognizes me? What did I do?”
“Paimon thinks it’s because Lyney is curious about who Lynette met! He was like that with us, too.” Paimon changes her pitch to match Lyney’s. “Are these your friends, Lynette?”
Aether’s eyes feel like they know something you don’t. “It won’t hurt to strike up a conversation with Lyney. He’s been shaken up since the trial.”
There’s something unspoken hidden in his words. “What does that mean?”
Paimon doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you to where the twins are waiting. Aether chuckles as he jogs behind.
“Paimon, Aether,” Lyney says, almost sly, “You haven’t introduced us to your friend here.”
“Paimon can do it!” She floats on top of your head and does a bit of jazz hands. “This is Y/N, the one who commissioned us to escort them from Sumeru up to Fontaine.”
“Generously,” Aether adds.
It’s a little embarrassing to have the legendary Traveler and Paimon introduce little old you to a famous magician such as himself, but his grin is still excited.
“From Sumeru?” Lyney repeats, smiling wider when you nod—as if that crumb of attention is enough for him. “I see.”
He performs a bow around the same height as where your hands rest; he takes one, kisses the back of your palm, and smiles against your skin. “I’m Lyney, and she is my sister, Lynette.”
“It’s nice to see you again.” You smile at Lynette, who nods in return. Lyney straightens to look at his sister.
“We met when the Traveler and Paimon just arrived at the harbor,” Lynette sighs even without looking at her brother.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, meeting Lyney’s eyes. The spot where he kissed is still warm—tingling. “Your show was incredible, despite what happened. I’m glad that the truth revealed itself.”
“Thank you.” Lyney’s gaze sharpens. “I saw you at the performance, yes. I was worried for a second you might steal the show if you were to come up on stage.”
You blink. “Are you saying—”
Lyney grins, “I apologize that the night had to end that way; it must’ve been horrifying. Say, what if I give you a little show right now to make it up to you?” Did he make it up to each one of his audience, too?
This is not a man acting “shaken up,” as Aether put it.
“You really don’t have to.” You glance at Aether and Paimon, silently asking for help; however, they’re too far gone, urging you to say yes with gestures and encouraging nods.
Lyney tilts his head, demanding your attention on him once more.
You sigh. “I would love to see it if you don’t mind.”
“Of course!” Lyney looks like he’s the sun bursting personified. “It would be a pleasure, ma chérie. Not to worry, it’s nothing life-threatening. I just need you to focus on me.”
Not that it’s hard. The others have become a dull buzz in your mind as Lyney holds your gaze. “Okay.”
Lyney smiles, much softer, satisfied. “Good. Now,” he tips his hat, “recently, I’ve received a little lesson from someone about the language of flowers. Are you familiar with them?”
“Not in Fontaine, no,” you mumble, watching his hands closely. You were expecting a rabbit to hop out of that hat any second now.
“Shame. But I suppose I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.” Lyney snaps his finger, then deposits his hand inside his hat. “Hmm… Oh? Something’s not quite right. Would you mind looking into this hat for me to see if the flower is here?”
You hesitate. The hat is so close to him.
Swallowing, you nod, leaning in to inspect his hat at a careful pace. All you can sense is the faint scent of heat Lyney is emanating, the breath you two share, and the pounding of your chest. You swear you could also hear his, matching yours.
“The hat’s empty.”
Lyney smiles wider. “Yes, perhaps because you already have it.”
You jump back in surprise, your hands patting your body to see where he could have snuck the flower in. With your frantic movement, the flower falls off from what seems to have come from your head—Lyney catches it.
His mouth carves into a smirk, leaning to invade your personal space, his free hand coming up to tuck hair behind your ear. “Careful.”
Your face is burning. Plucking the flower out, the delicate and tender pink sears into your palm. “What does this flower mean?”
“What does it, I wonder?” Lyney whispers thoughtfully. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me once you find out.”
And when he inclines backward, it feels like you can breathe again. Time flows normally, and the people passing by seem much louder than before—as though you’ve surfaced from underwater.
Lyney clears his throat. “Shame I haven’t prepared myself a grand show for you, but I suppose that would call for another time, wouldn’t it?”
Lynette is looking at Lyney as if he is stupidly amusing.
“Thank you,” you say, burning, burning. “For the show, I mean.”
“That was a little weird,” Paimon whispers to Aether, but she is terrible with keeping volume and has everyone turning to her with varying expressions. “P-Paimon means that was good! Wow, Lyney! Isn’t that a different flower you gave us? That’s the flower Charlotte was talking about, right?”
“Rainbow rose?” Aether supplies.
“Yes! It means—”
“Ahem.” Lyney is quick to interrupt. “Lynette and I must take our leave now, if you don’t mind. It was fun catching up with you two.” You have to hold your ground and not look away when he hones in on your figure. “And it’s a pleasure meeting you. Don’t be a stranger. Look for me if you want more.”
His smile is a little devilish, you now realize.
“Bye,” Lynette says blankly, following after her brother, who seemed to be hurrying to exit.
His ears were red.
“You’re still staring.”
“I am not,” you rebuke hotly, flailing to cover Aether’s mouth with your hands. Yet all it does is bring your attention back to where Paimon and Aether are staring—the rainbow rose on your person.
Paimon and Aether yelp when you drag them away despite Lyney having already left the scene.
“Hey—! Don’t just go dragging Paimon around like a balloon like that! Did Lyney get to your head that much?”
“He did not.”
Paimon tilts her head, frowning. You shy away from her worried gaze, glaring at the flower instead. You still don’t know how Lyney managed to get it there; you hold it to your chest, where your heart is racing miles per minute because of his stupidly smug smile.
“What does this flower mean, Paimon?”
Paimon seems elated to be of help. “Easy! Charlotte told us that Rainbow Roses mean ‘passion’ and most notably ‘romantic encounters’!”
“Passion,” you curse. The rose seems as if it is staring back innocently, unknowing of the turmoil you’re going through because of it. “Romantic encounters.’ ugh.”
You can still remember how Lyney’s eyes twinkled as you felt his breath against your face.
“Ooh, he thinks he can trick me. He thinks he can affect me just because it pleases him to do so. I’ll show him. I’ll show him! I am not a blushing maiden!”
“You’re already very affected by this,” Paimon says, yet it’s lost by your newfound determination. Two can play at this game.
You’ve definitely been staying in Fontaine longer than what you told Aether and Paimon, but you can’t leave yet. Not when you found yourself walking to a flower shop to purchase a vase, fiercely digging through soil, turning gentle when your fingers reach for the Rainbow Rose. Not when you see it in the corner of your eyes as you try to sleep, and you find yourself daydreaming about a charming violet-eyed virtuoso.
It’s for research, you excused lamely at the hotelkeeper who didn’t ask why you’re extending your stay. In truth, not that you’d tell anyone. It was because you were hoping for another grand show from him. A farewell show for you—closure.
If you were to travel back home and get too drunk to think straight, Kaveh would learn about your crisis (romantic awakening?) and laugh at your face.
In hopes of looking for your Fontaine architect friend, you spot Lyney instead, on the side of the street surrounded by cheering kids. They clap and jump, and Lyney laughs. “One more, one more!”
“Again?” Lyney does an exaggerated sigh. “I’m starting to run out of cards in my sleeves. I’ve guessed my entire deck from your hands by this point!”
“But, Mr. Magician,” one of them whines, pouting up at him and blinking, “we want to see more! We want to know how you do it!”
“Alright, how about this, hm?” And then Lyney peers right at you. Ironically, you’re the one startled when you’ve been watching that entire spiel, and he hasn’t acknowledged your presence beforehand. “Y/N, would you mind giving these children a little show with me?” He gestures for you to come closer.
“What show?” you ask suspiciously, taking slow steps in case he pulls out another flower out of nowhere.
“You don’t have to worry,” Lyney laughs. “Will you be my assistant for this show? You are very familiar with this trick.”
“Please, we want to see!”
You falter at the little kids’ excited grins, especially when paired with Lyney’s pout and round eyes. “Okay, tell me what to do.”
His eyes do the little gleam again. “Stand in front of me, mon lapin.”
Your heart is skipping beat after beat, making itself known as you shuffle until Lyney is directly behind you.
“Relax, chérie, you just need to stand still.” It’s a little hard to relax when you feel his breath against the back of your neck, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that, so you keep your chin high and relax your shoulders. “Good.”
He begins to speak louder to his awaiting audience. “I know it’s hard to keep your eyes off this beauty before me, but watch the hat for a surprise, alright?”
He flips it for his little audience, one hand resting on your waist and the other extended to hold his top hat. The proximity is almost suffocating. You watch with bated breath, and they complain about it being empty.
“Oh, is it?” Lyney hums, twirling the hat until it’s flipped upside down, presented right before you. “Perhaps I need my assistant’s help.” You snap out of your daze when you realize he’s talking to you. “Y/N, do me a favor and show them the flower inside.”
You reach inside the hat and, much to your surprise, feel a stem. You pull it out; the Rainbow Rose stares back at you, almost mocking you, saying he did pull out a flower out of nowhere. It's this trick again.
The kids gasp in awe and confusion—it’s all the same for Lyney, who snaps his fingers and creates magic like he was made to. Like magic was for him to summon with his hands.
“What? It was empty!”
“Where did that come from? I was watching Mister Magician’s hands the whole time!”
“Are you a magician, too?”
“No,” you say lamely, holding the rose, feeling Lyney still patiently standing behind you. Heat crawls up your neck. “No, I’m not. It’s all Lyney.”
“It’s all me,” Lyney echoes in amusement. “You’re quite magical yourself.” Finally, he spares you, pulling away to stand beside your figure. He doesn’t take the rose back—maybe even give it to one of the children. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “That’s enough for today. The sun is setting, and your parents might get worried.”
They pout and slump their shoulders, but Lyney has this older brother's sternness to him that has the children scurrying back home anyway.
You then realize having to stand in front of Lyney was unnecessary.
The flower is warm. Lyney’s eyes slip to yours.
“I didn’t even have to stand in front of you like that,” you complain, heart inclined to race off your body.
“Yes, but I feared that I would slip up again if I were to catch a glimpse of your face,” Lyney admits smoothly. His lips curl into a smirk when you stare wordlessly. “What? Don’t believe me? I had to improvise when I saw you watching from afar.”
“A great magician such as yourself? Making a mistake? I doubt it.”
“You already have such high expectations placed on me, chérie,” Lyney says, his smile easy, but his ears are a little red, poking out from his hair. “That’s no good. With no audience, I’m just plain ‘Lyney’ to you.”
“No trickery? No cards up your sleeves?” you play along.
Lyney doesn’t miss a beat. “No, though I do have a few more roses begging to be held by your hands.”
“They can keep begging.” Lyney grins wider when you glance down at his hands. “Do you give them off to everyone you meet?”
“Who do you take me for?” Lyney isn’t offended; he laughs, delighted. He is preening under the sunset—or maybe it’s your attention. “Of course not. At least, not like this.”
You stare, unimpressed. “Sure.”
“So cold, chérie,” Lyney sighs, plucking the stem from your fingers to slot it behind your ear. It seems he likes doing that. “Here I am, trying to get you to warm up to me, and you treat me like this.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll be going back home soon anyway.”
Lyney’s expression shifts into something more unrecognizable, his eyes dipping down to somewhere below your nose. “Oh. Avoiding attachment?”
You nod.
He grins, and he’s still so close. He knows how to entrance his audience, pulling you in until you forget to resist. Always watch the hands; yet Lyney could be digging a dagger to your side at this moment, and you wouldn’t even notice.
“I’m flattered you even want to avoid me because you know you’d get attached,” he purrs, tilting his head. Is Lyney just big on personal space?
“Don’t assume,” you retort. “I know how guys like you think. Even a magician as great as yourself can’t trick someone who’s already seen through it.”
“It would be easier if it were just a trick, wouldn’t it?” Lyney sighs, much to your confusion. “I take it that someone has told you what this flower means?”
You’ve nearly forgotten all about it. “Yes.” You find yourself unable to look directly into his eyes. “I know.”
But even with that, you can still feel his heavy gaze, pinning you down and threatening the strength of your knees. You suppose it comes with being a performer—watching his audience carefully, pinpointing each micro expression to say the right words.
“There doesn’t have to be any attachments.”
“What are you trying to say right now?”
Lyney’s reaches for your hip, sharing your gaze like he doesn’t know how to do anything else. “That you enamor me. That I am holding back from wanting you. I know you feel the same—you can never hide anything from a magician. But if you’re concerned,” he mumbles, “then this doesn’t have to mean anything. You may call it infatuation.”
You want to laugh. Or maybe you want to cry. Most of all, you want to nod helplessly, wrap your arms around his neck, and give in. It’s hard not to when he looks at you like that. “You want me that bad?”
“I almost want to disagree.”
“Almost?” Lyney gets closer, and you stop him with a palm on his chest. “We’re outside.”
Lyney grins. “Have you forgotten what Fontaine is also known for? No one would bat an eye. Love is in the air, and all that.”
“Absolutely not.”
“So still you’re letting me?”
You laugh this time. Letting him, as if you aren’t the one itching to pull him close and find out what he’s like behind the curtains. “Are you asking me as plain old ‘Lyney?’”
Lyney brightens, clearly pleased there wasn’t a ‘no’. “Yes.”
“No tricks?”
“No tricks. No strings.”
You let him lead you away into some dark alleyway. He kisses you like he was longing to do so all his life. You have only met him that fateful day, not even a week ago. But you claw at him like you get it—like he’s ruined you for anyone else the moment you shared gazes in the Opera House.
Romantic encounters, you quietly recall as Lyney swipes a thumb over your aching bottom lip.
You don’t see Lyney the day after that. And for some reason, it makes the itch worse. (Perhaps it’s because you’ve gotten a taste and can’t get enough.)
It’s mostly your fault, the sudden disappearance—you’ve cooped yourself up in the hotel room, buried your face in pillows, and screamed. You berate yourself for giving in, but another part of you—one that’s louder than any other thought in your head—wants to do it again. Wants to hold his handsome face in your hands and have him kiss you breathless. That was nothing like you had ever felt before.
You groan. It’s another new day. You might as well make some progress with your portfolio.
There’s a Café you’ve been visiting more often than not. Ordering a drink and spending a good chunk of your day sketching the view. Instead, you find yourself staring at Aether, Paimon, and Lynette seated at one of the tables.
Lynette’s eyes flick up to yours as she sips tea. She murmurs something to the other two, and you watch with amusement as Aether and Paimon’s heads snap to face you.
You let your gaze wander, eventually landing on Lyney, who is reciting his order with his charming-act-on smile, who is present because of course he is. You want to turn and run away, but that’d be letting Lyney win, and you’re nothing if not stubborn and prideful.
“Y/N!” Paimon greets once you’re within earshot, kicking her feet happily. “Good morning! What are you doing here?”
“Breakfast,” you reply, waving at them. Aether pulls a chair from the other table and gestures for you to sit. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Nope!” Paimon swipes a fork from the table and digs in on the Ile Flottante, leaving nothing for Aether. “Lynette and Lyney told us about another show they’re holding to make up for the previous one.”
“Mouth full,” Aether reminds her, a little too late as the Ile Flottante spews from her mouth.
“Really now? Maybe I can pay properly for a ticket this time,” you laugh, nodding at Lynette. She smiles faintly, hiding it behind the rim of her cup. Lynette sure is the polar opposite of her twin brother.
A shadow looms from behind, the silhouette of a figure with an unmistakable top hat. You tilt your chin and see Lyney peering down at you with a sweet smile. You will yourself to keep your gaze focused on his eyes only and nowhere else below the nose.
Speak of the devil…
“Sweetheart,” Lyney says instead of exchanging pleasantries like a normal person.
“Lyney,” you reply in kind. Then you look away upon realizing that Aether, Paimon, and Lynette had been silently watching the exchange with muted, stunned expressions.
Lyney, holding a tray of drinks and food in both hands, scoots the chair next to yours with his ankle. “I wasn’t informed that Y/N would be joining us,” he says, setting the drinks and plates down like a waiter with a flourish. “You can drink mine. Let me order another.”
You hold onto his wrist as he makes his way back. He turns to you, surprised. “Let me at least pay for my own breakfast.”
Lyney grins, delicately withdrawing from your grip. He places a loud kiss on your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” And then leaves, because he can’t take no for an answer.
“Is it just me,” Paimon starts as you resign yourself to finishing Lyney’s drink (It’s your favorite, the one you always order), “or is Lyney acting weird around Y/N?”
Aether laughs. “There's definitely something going on. Don’t end up staying too long in Fontaine, now. What was it you told us? ‘A day or two’.”
You huff, your face turning unbearably warm. “Shut up, you two. I am here to do research, not to find a summer fling.” You’ve already failed, but they don’t need to know about that.
If you were to touch your lips with your fingers, you’d think of no one else but Lyney’s hands on your hips and his mouth swallowing your words.
Lynette clears her throat, a quiet but noticeable thing. “Don’t be fooled by my brother, Y/N.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m still keeping my safe distance.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. Don’t be fooled by my brother.” She stares at you from the rim of her cup—something about that has you listening obediently. “No matter what he tells you, he always cares too much. No matter what you may think, he always gets hurt first.”
“That’s not…” You can’t imagine that. From the start, it’s always felt like he was the one who could do what he wanted.
No tricks.
Lynette is his twin, after all. She knows him best.
No strings.
Defeated, you sip on the straw with the same fervor of an aggravated hilichurl, and that’s the end of that.
Conversations during breakfast are much lighter when Lyney returns with a full meal as his treat. Celebration, he says. Celebration for what? Who knows? Lyney winked, but his glance directed to you said enough.
“You say that you don’t want to get attached, but you’re awfully close to the Traveler, of all people,” Lyney says offhandedly once the others have left for their own matters.
You lean against your seat, grinning. “Are you jealous?”
He doesn’t say anything, instead upturning his nose as if scrambling to regain control. You laugh, oddly endeared. Lyney turns his head away, trying to hide the smile that curls his lips upon hearing it.
“Hey,” Lyney says seriously, reaching for your hand. “Where have you been yesterday?”
“Why? Missed me?”
And because he’s Lyney, he takes his time kissing each of your knuckles. It’s more intimate than the whole ‘no strings’ arrangement you agreed on, but you suppose Lyney thinks that any physical attention is free reign. “What would you do if I said yes?”
“You’ll be fine,” you say slyly. “You’ll have to get used to it if you want to risk your heart just to get laid.”
He rolls his eyes, tugging you closer. “I’m not risking anything to get laid. Do you think so lowly of yourself, chérie?”
“Isn’t this all there is to it? Physical attraction,” you ask, genuinely confused.
Lyney blinks. “Of course, but—” His eyes flicker down, and his words trail off.
When you speak, you feel your breath bounce back from his skin—a testament to your proximity. “Lyney,” you whisper. For what? Urging him to continue? Urging him to close this distance? You’re not sure, either.
You have so much to ask. What do you mean? Why can’t you finish your sentence? Why don’t you just kiss me already? But it’s hard to speak; Lyney’s name is all you can think of.
You whisper his name again. His grip on your hands tightens and loosens, a frustrated frown creeping up his brows.
Your hand shoots out to reach for the back of his head and give in. He flinches for a second before relaxing completely.
His lips almost taste sweeter than his words. Almost as sweet as how he finds purchase on your waist and holds your chin during every kiss.
You pull away to breathe, missing how he leans closer to chase after you and pouting when he can’t. “Yeah. That—That didn’t have to mean anything. I just wanted to know what it felt like again.”
“Yeah.” Lyney licks his lips, his gaze unable to tear away from where yours are swollen. “Yeah, I know. You taste like my drink.”
Really, no one’s surprised you gravitate towards each other again, feeling like you’re soaring and melting into a puddle at the same time. Lyney doesn’t touch you where you both know would cross the line, but he grips near possessively to what he can, as if breathing you in and worshipping your skin.
You know after this, he’d go back on stage, fooling his audience with what’s invisible to the average eye, as if this never happened. You know this because this is your deal: satiate the feverish attraction you have with each other and leave once you’re satisfied. (But you also know that you’ll be thinking of his touch and his lips while you stare at the vase beside your bed.)
Lyney is a magician, first and foremost.
He hooks you in, and keeps all your attention to himself like he’d die without it. Then he disappears with a snap of a finger. He’s finished his trick, leaving you befuddled in your seat with more questions than answers.
As you drift off to sleep, all you can think of is that there are two roses now.
“Brother.”
Lyney looks up from where he’d been entertaining Rosseland, seeing Lynette with a stern face. “What? What happened?”
Her tail flicks. “You said you weren’t going to get attached.”
Lyney exhales softly, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m not.”
Lynette finds herself smiling softly. “I may just be your assistant, but you can’t lie to your own twin.”
He buries his face in his hands. With his sight gone, images of your face while whispering his name flash in his mind. His eyes fly open, mortified, his whole face red. “I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t think it’d be deeper than that.”
He was the magician in this, but it felt as if you were the one who tricked him instead.
It’s been two weeks since you first arrived in Fontaine. By this point, you’ve grown more familiar with its views than your own city. Having Aether, Paimon, Lynette, and even Freminet around doesn't make it any easier for you to feel at home.
And then there’s the Lyney Situation. You meet up most nights, more than that when he’s free from shows. He keeps seeking you out, and you keep letting him in. There was one night where Lyney spent the night instead of heading straight to the door—and those nights turned into two, then three, and then he finds any excuse to keep doing it.
It’s not like you could stop. He told you look for me if you want more, and you always want more, because how could you not? Lyney treats you like he’s never had to take care of anything more precious but still manages to render you breathless like you’ve never experienced thrill the way he gives it to you before.
But you still have to go back home. And Lyney still has his own life, has his secrets. He feels untouchable even when your arms are wrapped around his neck.
No strings attached can still work for summer flings, doesn’t it? And what are summer flings, if not just that?
Lyney hovers above with his hands caging your face. He’s grinning so wide—and you’ve seen all kinds of smiles on him with your time spent together, but it was never this genuine.
“You’re bad for me.” He says it like a confession, a prayer.
You raise an eyebrow. “What did I do to you?”
His hand trails down until he’s rubbing shapes on your hips. “Make me feel like I’m myself whenever I’m with you.”
At your silence, Lyney clears his throat. ���But it’s not like that, don’t worry. I just mean—”
And how does that even make sense? He pours his heart, then later reveals it’s nothing but a decoy to keep this facade realistic.
“Oh,” you say.
That was the final act you’d been waiting for. The final trick—the farewell show.
And so you pack your bags—shoved your sketchbook back inside, face forward, and promise not to look back. Leaving Sumeru hasn’t even been this hard.
Aether and Paimon shouldn’t be surprised if they find you missing; they’d been the first to know that your stay in Fontaine isn’t meant to last forever. And you’ve warned Lyney about this. Avoiding attachments? It felt more like running away from your problem.
Lyney is a busy man on his own; you’re nothing but some architect from a different region who happened to get caught up with him at the right time.
You sigh and call for the aquabus.
A hand clasps around your wrist, pulling you to collide against a familiar chest. Lyney’s eyes are wide, almost insane. Sweat clings to his forehead, and his breath comes in frantic pants.
“W-What—”
Lyney’s eyes search your face. Or maybe it’s him trying to convince himself that you’re right there, in front of him. “You didn’t even tell me.”
“I—I’m sorry—”
“Were you just going to leave like that? Don’t you think I at least deserve a farewell?”
“Lyney, I’m sorry. I know, that was stupid.” You haven’t seen him with an expression like this before—so raw and broken, begging to be glued together with your hands. “I didn’t want to formally say goodbye because I knew I'd want to stay.”
“That’s stupid,” he repeats in agreement.
You breathe shakily, eyes scanning the stunned crowd. What’s The Great Magician Lyney doing here? Holding some stranger in his arms? That must be what they’re thinking.
“How did you even know I was leaving?”
Lyney’s eyes cut down to his hand, gripping a crushed rose. “I was paying a visit to an empty room.” Embarrassed, he tries to toss it away, but you take it before he can.
You wordlessly place it in its home: the spot behind your ears. You don’t tell him that the two other roses he gave you serve as bookmarks in the sketchbook you’ve used all up in Fontaine. Where you’ve drawn his face more often than not.
Lyney groans in frustration, his hands curling around your waist. “Is staying so bad?”
“It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”
And then you notice Lyney’s hands. They’re shaking uncontrollably, not unlike how it did during that incident—and with it came the frantic exhales, as if natural human breathing alone is already hard enough for him.
“Oh, Lyney,” you say softly. You drop your bags and embrace him fully.
He doesn’t hesitate in pulling you closer, burying his face on your neck. “Don’t—don’t,” he gasps, “don’t just try to leave like that.”
It’s hard seeing Lyney like this. He’s usually so composed and easy-going. He gulps in a deep breath, and his voice cracks as he calls for you. This must be something out of his control—something deeper than the back of his stage.
“Y/N,” he whispers.
“Lyney,” you call back as gently.
He swallows your surprised noise with his mouth, moving against you like you’re his last meal on Teyvat. He’s still shaking, but it has subsided the longer you stay pressed against each other. You’re not sure if it’s his Pyro vision or if it’s your skin burning at the thought of Lyney’s skin against yours. It’s searing.
This is different from the last kisses you shared.
Passion, you think dizzily, breathless from his hunger. This is passion.
“What was that for?” you ask, embarrassingly winded.
Lyney brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. He looks sad. As though he only comes alive when you’re with him. “A kiss to make up for your absence in the following weeks.”
“I can always come back,” you say. “No, I will come back. I promise. I just need to get home for a bit.”
“Okay.” Lyney nods, exhaling heavily. “Yeah. I know, I understand. Once you come back, come straight to me, alright?”
“Of course.” You lean in to kiss his cheek. You’ve never done it before because it always came off too intimate. And judging by the blush that explodes on his face, he thinks the same.
It all doesn’t matter. The line has been crossed days ago; you’ve just been turning away from seeing it.
He kisses you again. Then again. “Have a safe trip,” he says in between kisses. “I almost wish you commissioned me to escort you, regardless of the price.”
“What, you want 500,00?” The aquabus has arrived; Lyney grips you a little tighter, childishly willing himself not to see it.
“500,000 kisses, and more.” Lyney rests his forehead against yours, his captivating eyes keeping you still, the way it always does. “But you can give me that when you come back.”
( Before they were taken away from the stage for an investigation, Lynette comes up to her brother and asks, “What happened back there, Lyney? I thought you were about to twist your own fingers.”
He is unsure how to tell his sister that he saw your awed expression and nearly lost his wits.
“It was nothing,” Lyney admits, his face growing hot at recalling his slip-up.
It wasn’t out of embarrassment, no—not when the memory of your wide-eyed beaming expression and how his mind blanked along with the skip of his heart plagued his mind.
“It was nothing,” he repeats numbly. It’s not. It was the start of something. )
a/n ok just a quick rant this fic BROKE ME. it was like every other day i hated then loved writing this fic. im not used to writing fics this long so pacing is not my forte </3 but i just feel proud of myself for finishing this so HOPE U LIKED IT. if ure still reading until here ily ❤️
more a/n two lyney fics and two kissing scenes. i can’t even lie to myself. everyone can tell.
more more a/n it was halfway through writing this fic that i rewatched the magic show and only noticed lyneys hands were shaking and i GOT SO SAD OMF 😭😭😭😭
#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#lyney x reader#lyney x you#lyney x y/n#lyney fanfiction
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Pulling on pigtails // beard Matt
Warnings: smut tehee / beard kink (is this even a thing?? lol) / cunnilingus / ‘good girl’ + ‘little girl’ / thigh kink / hair pulling / soft dom x sub fem reader / seated scissors / praise kink / spit kink / cream pie / hair pulling if you squint
Summary: you and Matt didn’t like each other at all when you were younger. In fact, you hated each other. Or so you thought. Y’know that one saying? That if a boy pulls on a girl’s pigtails it means he secretly likes her? Well… in Matt’s case that was certainly true, it just took him a little bit of growing up to realise.
Author’s notes: childhood enemies to lovers oooo, new trope time. This was a spur of the moment idea that literally popped up into my head during one of my classes. Reminder to pretend the reader is on the pill PLS. And just a quick warning that this one is going to be switching from in between diff time periods if anyone gets confused. Also beard Matt? R u kidding?? *orgasms*.
“Sometime ‘round eighth grade, remember our bodies were changing, you looked at me different…” - Ant Pile, Dominic Fike
•First grade•
You’re playing in the sandpit, just minding your own business by piling hoards of grit into the little bucket you have resting at your side. You intend to make a sandcastle, one of the best sandcastles you’ve ever made.
You stick your tongue out in concentration, your summer dress fit for the sunshine as it adorns your little body. Your sunhat is nestled on top of your head to shield you from the harsh rays that beam down from the sky whilst you busy away with playing by yourself. Packing in the sand tightly and then turning it with expert precision, your small chubby arms lift the mould carefully before you smile widely at the vision of the perfect sculpture placed before you. Well, as perfect as a sculpture of something can be to a 6 year old…
You have your back turned to your surroundings as you marvel at your creation. A mistake. Because, after you place the bucket back to the floor, someone else’s hand grabs a firm hold of one of your pigtails, yanking it backwards. You squeak as you fall onto your behind, covering the dress printed with sweet little strawberries in a myriad of sand before you twist your head at the sound of a childishly mean laugh.
‘Ouch? What was that for?’ Your voice wobbles, your glassy eyes looking at a young Matt who stands and crosses his arms in gleeful cruelty behind you, his dungarees still a little big for him and the slivers of a Spider-Man t-shirt peaking out from under the covers of his denim. He ignores you as he boyishly smirks, his dark blond hair straight and his mouth opening to bully you even further.
‘Ha! You loser. What ya doin’ building sandcastles?’ He jeers as he steps into the sandpit, his new pair of unlaced converse already scuffed up because of the amount of games of tag he’s played with his friends this morning. Suddenly, and to your utter dismay, he doesn’t give you enough time to retort back your upset before he is raising one of his legs and kicking it outwards. It barrels straight into your perfect sandcastle.
‘Building sandcastles is for babies. Babies like you!’ He ridicules as he stomps his foot into the sandcastle that you had just poured your entire heart and soul into creating not even moments ago.
Your fragile eyes well up with tears that drip from your waterline after Matt finishes crushing your craft. ‘That wasn’t very nice…’ you peep with an unmistakable frown on your face and your voice already raggedy with sobs. Matt’s beady blue eyes look at you once more, before he screws his face up and observes the way you cry, still in the position from when he had first snuck up to you and pulled on your hair teasingly.
‘Aww what’s wrong… you gonna cry?’ He feigns a pout as your nose begins to run.
Your little self feels so embarrassed that you’re crying in front of a boy, no less crying in front of Matt. He’s so mean to you. He picks on you all the time. You get no peace from him, you just wish he’d leave you alone, you liked being alone.
Pulling the stuffed animal you take everywhere you go from the floor, you hug it delicately into your chest as Matt jeers a chanting ‘Crybaby! Crybaby! Crybaby!’ Continuously whilst leaping around and pointing at you. You look to the ground shamefully, before you can’t take much more of his abuse. You don’t want to attract any more attention, not even from the parents that all flock together just yards away, huddled around the neighbourhood barbecue. And you certainly don’t want Matt causing you even more grief by calling you a snitch.
So instead, a simple whine is peeped from your throat as Matt steps back out of the sandbox, but not before playing with you once again by knocking off the little flowery bucket hat that had been fixed onto your head. You swipe it back up and dust it off angrily as he giggles and skitters off to go and play another game of hide and go seek with all of the other kids on the neighbourhood block. He turns back around once more to rudely stick his tongue out at you before leaving you all by yourself, now to wallow in your own sadness as you slump next to the destroyed sandcastle.
You just can’t help yourself as your nerve snaps, and as Matt runs away in his baggy dungarees, you squeal a high pitched and defiant ‘Maaaattt!!!’ To emphasises your anger, before huffing and petulantly crossing your arms, your head still kind of emanating a dull ache from where he had pulled your hair earlier.
Like you said, you just wished that annoying boy would leave you alone.
•Now•
‘Matt…’ you moan as he drops your thighs from the fleshy grip of his hands. You fall to your bed.
Within the soft lighting, his beard looks even darker and more prominent as he gazes at you with hungry eyes. Your heart beats down at your clit at wanting his tongue on you as soon as possible.
You and Matt are slightly older now.
At the roaring age of 20, you had bumped into him in your local grocery store after not seeing him for years. You see, you and him had gone to different high schools when you were younger, and sure, you had seen him around your neighbourhood a couple of times before, but it had never been enough to form a proper conversation with him.
Both of you had clearly been shocked at how much your appearances had changed as adults. You found it quite funny really, that the boy from your old neighbourhood block who used to crumple up balls of paper and chuck them at your head childishly, now had himself a beard.
Matt had been too stunned to speak.
Now being the mature young man that he was, he really didn’t expect to see an age old crush of his standing before him and looking just as pretty, if not prettier than she had when in her youth.
In the grocery store, he remembered smiling fondly at you as you both stood in the bread section, before reaching out one of his hands to jokingly tug on one of the pigtails. ‘Still wear around your pigtails huh?’ He had mumbled, a wave of nostalgia hitting the both of you as you looked at each other curiously. You blushed, embarrassed that the day you had decided to plait your hair into pigtails was the day that you would bump into what you considered to be your childhood bully. Typical.
Although, Matt saw you as something completely different at the time - unbeknownst to you.
You had shrugged and smiled sheepishly, replying with a ‘you’ve got a beard now…’ as you pointed towards the dark hair holding up his cheekbones sharply. Matt had softly chuckled and gently dropped his eyes to check you out. ‘Yeah I guess I do’.
As you chatted a little more, both of you decided to stick with each other for the rest of the duration of your grocery trips to catch up. Matt had even walked you out of the store and into the small parking lot. After he had put his groceries away into his car, shutting the trunk and locking it back up again, he felt the need to talk to you further and so shyly asked you out to dinner- which obviously you agreed to.
It was nice to see how much Matt had changed and really grown up, it was refreshing almost. However, that dinner date didn’t end at all like how you expected it would… because to end the evening, Matt had spent the entire night apologetically fucking his cock up into you on your couch, both of your faces sweaty and blushed, soaking in the obvious attraction you had felt towards one another. His hands had tightly intertwined with yours as he pinned them above your head and his mouth had been so close to yours the whole entire time. You remember him releasing whimpering pants against your mouth in between sloppy kisses whilst he mumbled ‘m’sorry… m’so sorry for how I treated you when we were kids…’.
But after you were finished, the endeavour didn’t end there, you didn’t cut off all contact with each other and go back to never speaking again. No. Instead, Matt had boldly asked for your updated number, since both of you now had phones, a luxury that 6 year old you two could have only dreamt of. And he texted you, again and again, and he also came over to fuck you… again and again. He was certainly a lot more straightforward with it now, that’s for sure.
Matt just couldn’t get enough of you, he was fucking obsessed with you, and he took full advantage over the fact that his 20 year old self now had the confidence to pursue you, the confidence that 8th grade Matt lacked.
And so that was that.
Now you are both here, Matt making a routine visit around to your apartment with hungry eyes and a hungry appetite.
The older boy kneels onto your bed, the mattress groaning and squeaking underneath his weight which gets you to shift in anticipated desire as he crawls right over to your awaiting body.
Slipping in between your legs, your hands splay behind you and keep you steady as his lips feather onto yours again, his tongue making easy work of snaking into your mouth and licking against your own. He kneels in between your spread legs, smoothing his hands down your rib cage and sliding them to your hips, before moaning ‘lie down angel’ into your lips, gently helping you by digging his thumbs into your tender flesh.
You fall back, your hair fanning out around you, but your head not quite reaching a pillow, so Matt smacks his lips, leaning over you so he can snatch one and slide it under your head for your comfort.
‘That better for my baby?’ He mumbles with his hands coming to rest under your arms, dangerously close to your swelled tits that had hardened upon his presence. You nod and he smirks, leaning his head down as he simultaneously moves his thumbs onto the pebbles of your nipples, yourself whimpering whilst he rubs them and kisses down into your mouth again.
Matt spent an awful lot of time during your horny fucks trying to make up for his past actions and mean comments by showering you with compliments and babying you as much as possible and it worked to flatter you into wetness every single fucking time.
‘Aren’t you just so pretty…’ he absentmindedly praises against your lips, now slipping the rest of his hands onto your tits to gently squeeze them, resulting in your rosy blush turning to an aroused red.
You swallow, bashful and nervous as he gets you to lean up so that he can slip your thin cotton top from off of your torso.
Throwing it to the floor, he sits back on his haunches to admire your bare tits, dewy and flushed whilst you look away in embarrassment.
‘Stop staring…’ you mumble shyly, but he only frowns, reaching his hand forward to grip your chin and turn it back to his face. ‘But why? They’re mine are they not? You’re my little girl… not anyone else’s… beautiful things should be looked at’ he starts, and once again, you feel the gush and drip of your arousal seeping through your underwear.
His voice dims to a whisper… ‘and beautiful things should be touched… shouldn’t they angel?’ He asks a rhetorical question before his hands find your tits again.
You falter, moaning a little when his mouth comes next, fully attaching itself to your right one so that his tongue can roll over your sensitivity, he hums and your back arches when you grip onto his floppy hair, his palms now caressing your waist. ‘Fuck…’ you quietly breathe into the air, nearly having to bite your lip and suppress a groan when Matt cheekily mumbles ‘is my little girl trying to use big girl words now?’ into you tits.
His tongue drips saliva all over them, and when he pulls away the freshly coated skin shines within the light, before he goes to suck on your left one.
Matt likes to spend extra time on every inch of your body, every inch of your skin, before he really gets what he wants, which is a taste of the delicate cherry nestled in between your honeyed thighs.
Leaning his chin on your breastbone, he watches the way you have your head thrown back in ecstasy like a lion, before he leans back up to roll both his sweater and his shirt up and over his head, soon discarding his own clothes. Then, he slips his thumbs into your pyjama shorts, taking them off and almost drooling at the sight of your baby pink panties, soft with a little bow at the stitch of them.
Some things never change. Your incessant love for the colour pink ever since you‘ve been a little kid being one of them.
This makes Matt’s cock throb, and he drips pre-come into his boxers at the sight of his little girl with her tits out, all hot and bothered just for him as he leers over her.
Suddenly, you pipe up in a gentle voice, being careful with your inquire which makes Matt’s heart melt and his cock even harder.
‘Can… can I have your special kisses now, please?’
Matt nods his head, stroking his hands down the backs of your thighs as he dreamily muses ‘of course you can angel… such a good girl for asking so nicely, aren’t you?’.
His praise naturally rolls off of his tongue like melted chocolate, and his hands make you ache. Finally, he leans down, before nudging his nose against your throbbing nerve, mumbling a starved ‘these panties are so pretty little girl… I think I’m going to keep them so that I can wrap them around my cock whilst I think of you when I touch myself’.
With that being said, you let out a strangled breath, your back yet again arching and your toes curling as his thumbs slip into the waistband of them to pull them off.
After they roll off, Matt shoves them into his back jean pocket, wasting no time in diving back down and spreading your thighs open for him whilst he caresses them. He squeezes them when you hiss at the feeling of his tongue licking into you, his head nestled right in between your thighs so that he can look up at your face over-protectively.
Matt’s facial hair is long enough for you to feel his bearded face harshly graze along each side of your thigh whilst his jaw works mercilessly. The rough hairs rub against your core when his nose nudges against your folds to get better access and you arch your back into the air at the sensation of it.
‘Matt- that feels so good… please-’ you beg, not being able to help yourself as you grab his hair and keep him there, squeezing your thighs around his head so that you can guiltily feel his facial hair better as he licks into you.
‘Yeah? Am I treating my little girl well hm? Am I taking care of her like I said I would?’ He teases, bringing his face up to look right into your eyes from between your legs, obviously happy with the noises he has managed to force out of you thus far.
You nod your head, humming aggressively before you buck your hips up, wanting him to continue for a little while longer… and so he does, except this time, something changes within the swirling motions of his tongue.
Instead of his usual strokes and licks, he slows his wet muscle down, making you realise within the suggestive motions that he is spelling out an ‘M’ on your clit. After the ‘M’ he slowly kisses it once, before spelling out an ‘A’. Your stomach drops and churns with desire at the possessive yet erotic nature of the action.
Soon after a continuation of kisses, two ‘T’s are spelt out, and finally an ‘S’…
Matt’s…
Your clit belongs to Matt, and he makes that very clear with the flick of his tongue and the look he gives you as he gazes up at you whilst spitting on it to get it wetter with his own saliva.
‘You’re fucking mine’ he throatily speaks with a deep hoarseness to his voice, and your stomach rises and falls with laboured breaths.
‘Yes… yes I’m all yours!’ You whine into the air, looking down at Matt just as lustfully as he looks up at you, your past hatred of each other all washing away as you find comfort within the tangle of your limbs.
Then Matt hums. ‘You’ve been such a good girl for me, letting me have you like that…’ he strokes your thighs yet again in adoration, resting his bearded chin on your pubic bone whilst lustily flitting his eyes up to you.
You smile at how similar yet different he looks to you now, both of you enthralled completely with each other. Past pains and experiences are wiped clean from the new slate you selected for your lives as soon as you had bumped into each other that one time in the grocery store.
•Fourth grade•
You’re on a field trip with your fourth grade class to your local aquarium.
You mind your own business, sticking out like a sore thumb as you trail behind everyone else, walking at the back by yourself. But you don’t feel lonely, you feel content at finally having peace. As the rest of your class chatters in groups happily, squealing and marvelling at all of the colourful fish, you prefer to admire them in quiet silence, walking right up to the glass and staring at their delicate fins before each time, seeing that the rest of the class has moved on and running to catch up with them.
You had just exited the underwater tunnel through the shark tank, looking at the floor to see their sleek grey bodies gliding underneath you before entering the jellyfish room. There are tanks upon tanks of different colourful jellies, some poisonous and some harmless, but all of them equally as beautiful with their trailing tendrils of stingers. You gasp quietly, your eyes sparkling as you run up to a massive tank full of a glowing purple and green species that float and dance about in the deep blue water aimlessly.
You press your hands up to the glass in childlike wonder, your nose almost touching the thick material whilst you scan over them and try to count how many are in the tank.
Unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes watch your back, he too, by himself as his group of friends had left him to go and look at a tank full of long orange jellyfish. He hides behind a small tank in the centre of the room, shyly peaking around the corner at you and trying to think of a way he can poke at you.
He bites his nails and hums, wanting an excuse to walk up and tease you since he hasn’t already done so today. Ultimately, he decides to creep up behind you, smirking quickly at the creative idea that shoots through his mind whilst looking at your dad’s old baseball cap sitting on your head.
His quiet walk soon turns into a quick bursting sprint, allowing him to race up to you and pluck your hat from off of your head before you have the time to register who it even is. You yelp and spin around in fear, your hand slapped on top of your now bare head as you look at a proud Matt in horror and fear. Your heart rate quickens. You were so scared of him.
‘HEY! Give me that back!!’ You bravely demand, your attention now distracted from the jellyfish and fixating upon the wicked boy who smirks and holds it up above his head. You go to reach for it, but realise in dismay that you aren’t tall enough. Matt had annoyingly had a boyish growth spurt over the winter break and was now a couple of inches taller than you.
You feel sick in worry as your heart rattles against your ribcage.
‘Ha! Nice try’ he cackles, extending his hand up even further when you wobble onto your tiptoes to try and reach for it. To steady your balance, you have to grapple your hand onto one of Matt’s shoulders to stretch upwards and he secretly blushes, not too sure as to why your touches seems to give him conflicted feelings of affection. You whine when he only leans up onto his tiptoes too, again, pushing your hat up further from your reach.
‘Matt this isn’t funny’ you struggle, smacking your lips and extending out your body as far as you can, before he starts to wave about his arm to dodge your clawed hand. He only giggles deviously in return.
Once, just once, you’d wish for him to not pester you when you’re minding your own business, you were enjoying your little day trip out, and this just ruined it all.
‘Yes it is’ he retorts back. But before he can take his jest any further, your fourth grade teacher Mrs Banks notices your little ruckus and decides to intervene, much to your immediate relief.
‘Matthew Sturniolo!’ She calls and Matt suddenly goes rigid, the hairs on the back of his neck raising as he turns to look at her sheepishly whilst her short high heels clack towards you two. You relax, knowing that Matt is probably most likely going to be told off. And you’re right when she berates him and forces him to hand you back your hat and apologise.
For the rest of the school trip you stay glued to Mrs Bank’s side, fearful that trailing at the back will only make you more of a target for Matt’s vicious onslaught of teasing once again. But Matt stays put with the rest of his friends, only giving you periodic glances and death stares after being chastised by your teacher.
You went home that day feeling dejected and Matt went home feeling confused and frustrated. Because why is it, that he enjoyed teasing you so much. So much so to the extent where he didn’t think he could go a day without it?
•Now•
‘Do you think you’re ready for my cock now angel…?’ He questions, before answering the question himself when he leans upwards to unbuckle his belt, the metal jingling as he threads it through his belt loopholes and onto the floor.
Then his pants come next, leaving him almost as exposed as you, before he bends back down and digs his hands underneath your body, scooping you up effortlessly and cushioning you into his lap. His hands freely trail, groping and squeezing your thighs so hard that when he removes them, they leave little red marks and crescent moon nail imprints into your flesh.
You kiss frantically once again, desperate to engulf your scents over each other’s skin whilst you place your thumbs on either sides of his cheeks. His tongue is hot and sticky, your connection so messy that sometimes you accidentally get spit over the skin around your mouths. As you stroke your fingers over his jaw and cheekbones, you feel his bristly facial hair and clench your soaked thighs at its roughness, remembering the way it sharply rubbed against the insides of your spread legs just moments ago.
‘Please- please can I have your thigh…?’ You politely ask into his lips, your beg coming out breathless and whimpered. Matt sighs, ‘but baby… I wanna have your gut…’. You pull away and pout in sadness, and Matt’s heart sinks at the look on your face, again, the guilt of his past coming to haunt him. Just then, he thinks of an idea.
‘Why don’t we compromise then…’ your face lights up and you nod.
‘What do you want me to do…?’ You trail off and clench again when Matt pinches one of your thighs. Matt smirks, and then crunches his stomach so that he can lower his back onto your mattress, yourself still sitting on his lap. ‘Take these off angel…’ he mumbles, referring to his boxers that conceal his dripping cock. You obey him without question, the angel comment driving you to the edge as you hook your hands into his pants and slide them down. You get up from off of his lap momentarily to remove them from his haired thighs and toss them onto the floor before returning your full attention to the way his cock stands and almost visibly pulses.
‘What now?’ You breathe and watch Matt’s grin as his head props itself up onto your stack of pillows. ‘Back on my lap n’turn around… let me see that ass’ he instructs lightly, his voice soothing and encouraging as you squint your eyes and turn your back to him in confusion. Swinging one of your legs over to his other hip, you sit on his pelvic bones, the sight of his sticky red tip dripping from just below you.
‘Spit on it.’ He demands once again, this time in a more commanding tone. Again, you do exactly as he says and let a thick string of saliva pour from out of your mouth. It splatters right onto his head and he hisses as it slowly rolls its way down the left side of his thickness. ‘Good girl…’ he struggles, his voice forced through his gritted teeth.
‘Now put one of your legs in between mine and sit on my cock’, you obey him quickly, your core aching to feel his shaft forcing your walls apart as you hoist you left leg in between his so that you can now sit on top of him at an angle. Gravitating upwards, you grip onto him and push his tip in between your folds. Slowly sliding down you let out a gulping pant before fully sitting your ass back down over his bulging hipbone. Matt tips his head back and feathers his eyes shut before willing himself to slide the thigh nestled in between your two legs upwards.
He brings it up just far enough for you to grind your clit over it when you start to move.
‘There’s your thigh angel’.
He smirks whilst looking at your back, your ass so tantalisingly sat on him that he could burst at any moment. He feels the heat from your clit emanating towards his thigh readily and it makes his mouth water.
Your chest heaves as you look down at his haired thigh wedging open your legs, the hard muscle of it brushing against your clit ever so slightly. After a couple of moments of silence and heaving breaths, Matt decides to reach out his hands to smooth them against the curves of your hips, his palms splayed on the sides of your asscheeks. ‘Is my little girl gonna move then, hm?’ He hums tauntingly, before helping you a little by rocking you forward and flexing his thigh towards you so that you can grind it onto your clit.
Your breath hitches and one of your hands comes flying up to firmly grasp ahold of his bent kneecap, the other one gripping onto the bedsheets at your side.
He starts to move you gently, his cock slipping in and out of your cunt slickly whilst your weeping clit is continuously stimulated on his thigh. You bite your lip, tossing your head back and arching your spine into the rest of his thigh whilst he keeps his eyes trained on the way your ass shakes gently with every swivel of your bouncing hips.
‘Thaaaat’s it… that’s my good girl’ he coos up to you with his raspy voice, admiring you from the back whilst you get off to him in the scissored seating arrangement.
‘Matt… this feels so good- please don’t… don’t stop…’ you whine through a moan, twisting your neck back slightly so that you can watch the way Matt’s mouth opens through pants, his cheeks pink with bashfulness as he guides your hips with his veiny hands. He hits all of your sweet spots at once this way.
‘Don’t worry angel face… m’not stopping until I make you cum the amount of times I made you cry…’.
•Eighth grade•
Matt and you are 13 now. Both going into eighth grade. Matt had been away at a summer camp all break and within that expanse of time you had developed a bit, both inwardly and more importantly… outwardly.
When you both return to school he isn’t quite expecting the sudden change in your appearance and he wonders how someone could morph so much in such a small amount of time… Going into your teenage years is certainly a perilous time for both of you because for one, your bodies are changing and your hormones are only just starting to activate properly, and two, Matt is finally getting to understand that possibly… affectionate feelings of his turn into acts of bullying when he likes someone.
That someone being you.
Matt’s 13-year-old self stands there, with gangly, growing limbs as he quietly ogles at you from afar, feeling awkward and self conscious in his own teenage boy body. What are these fucking feelings? Why are they so confusing? And why can’t they just leave him alone?
He watches you walk down the corridor towards him, his heart nervously thumping in his chest. He thinks you’re going to just walk past him, until he sees that you’re walking straight for him instead. He freezes, and almost pisses himself in fear with his fingers twitching and his eyes widened.
Quick Matt, think of something mean to say to her before it’s too late.
‘Excuse me’ you say bravely, trying to force down your nerves in front of a Matt, who clearly came back from summer camp with a gorgeous tan, his also usually dark brown hair bleached slightly lighter thanks to the sun. You thought it had been odd when his blonde hair back in first grade had slowly started to darken until he had turned into a brunette, but now you were used to it.
‘What?’ Matt mumbles, a little spaced out.
You raise your eyebrows at him. ‘Um… you’re standing in front of my locker I think’ you say, scared as to why he could be standing in front of your locker. Matt tried his hardest to shove down any nerves in front of you before scoffing and stepping to the side. He rolls his eyes.
‘Oh great, more than a hundred lockers in school and I get stuck next to yours’. Ah, so that’s why he is standing here… his locker is right beside yours. Great. You wince. You anticipate a mean comment from him every time you interact with him, but it doesn’t get any easier taking it. Guess that summer camp spirit he would have been surrounded with didn’t change his tune as much as you had hoped it would have.
‘Believe me, I’m not happy about it either’ you spit back, and shove past his lean figure to get to your locker. You start to put in your combination.
Matt blows a huff of air from out of his lips, crossing his arms and fidgeting about awkwardly behind you.
‘Knowing- knowing my luck… I’ll probably get stuck in the same class as you too’ he stutters, inwardly scolding himself for literally losing the ability to summon his normally quick witted attitude. Instead he stumbles over his words like an idiot. You only shake your head and sigh, shoving a note pad into the metal compartment before slamming it shut and re-locking it. ‘Whatever Matt’ you scoff and strut away, leaving Matt almost gripping the wall and heaving a sigh of relief when you’re gone.
But then later that day, it really is just your luck. Because both you and Matt end up walking into the exact same math class together, the two of you collectively sighing, but for vastly different reasons.
•Now•
‘Fuck you always feel so good’ Matt whines deliriously. ‘You’re perfect… just perfect for me’. The air around the both of you is hot, your skin rough and sticky with sweat whilst the sound of the bed squeaking underneath your bounces harmonises with your moans. You feel like crying in ecstasy, you love it when Matt’s cock makes you feel so full, because it helps to sate your appetite and you look forward to him coming around everytime he texts that he’s going to drop by.
You are so fond of how mature he is, how old he looks. It makes you squeeze your thighs together. And now he grows his beard out just for you because you say you like it so much, until it gets a little too long and he has to shave it again. But whenever it’s at that perfect stage, he always spends multiple nights around at your apartment, just so that you can utilise it. Matt doesn’t mind, he fucking loves it. Anything to make you happy.
‘I’m… I’m your good girl’ you breathe back to him, his thigh now almost soaking with sticky precum and spit whilst you grind you clit onto him and ride his cock simultaneously. ‘You’re my good girl’ he responds back reassuringly, the possessiveness in his tone only making you squeeze around him more. He doesn’t bother to bite his hand to hide his whimpers of pleasure because he knows you deserve to hear them, deserve to see the way you make him feel after all of these long winded years of unsolved feelings and pain.
You swivel on him a little longer, your tits bouncing rhythmically before pressure knots your stomach tightly together. Your mouth hangs slack as your shoulders heave more than normal. ‘Baby… baby I think I- I’m gonna cum’ you utter a high pitched breath to him, and he nods, rubbing his thumbs over your ass cheeks comfortingly as he helps speed you up a little faster. It drives him fucking feral when you call him baby, because he’s so fucking selfish and possessive over you.
‘Go on angel… cum all over me like a good girl’ he states once again, which is enough for the tight tension within your gut to snap. Waves upon waves of euphoria rush all down your thighs, your high lasting for a good while. Within this time, Matt’s breath similarly hitches, and it’s not long before he’s creaming his load into you too, ropes of cum dripping down your walls and around his now extremely slimy member whilst he thrusts you into oblivion and exemplifies your orgasm.
After they are over, you messily collapse backwards, your chest heaving thickly as you laugh. Your sweaty skins lies flushed against Matt’s whilst you rest on top of him. He smiles gently at your little giggle before scooping his arms up to tuck them underneath your tits. Using his upper body strength, he gently slides you up his torso a little farther so that he can cuddle you into him closely. He kisses your head gently, before moving on to kiss the shell of your ear as well. In doing this, his cock is slowly removed from your spent hole, allowing you to both relax in tired exhaustion.
Matt closes his eyes whilst nuzzling his nose into your hair. You delicately place your hands onto his forearms that wrap tightly around your chest. You stare at the ceiling before mumbling ‘who would’ve thought…’ down to Matt, who simply grumbles in questioning from below you. ‘That the guy who I thought used to hate me ended up in my bed a couple of years later’. You snigger and Matt smacks his lips, opening one of his eyes to turn and peek at your side profile from below you.
‘I never hated you… not really…’.
Author’s notes p.2: I just love Dominic Fike bro, any excuse to put his songs in one of my stories. No because I actually love this plot line, aren’t they just cuties?? I hope u guys were okay with visualising the position I had them in bc I gotta tell you, I was squinting my eyes trying to write it so that it made sense lmaoo. @luvmila444 u are so so welcome for this, sorry for the wait bbg :(. Also the blogs that are in bold on my taglist- I’m so sorry but for some reason tumblr isn’t recognising your names so I don’t think I’ve been able to tag u properly :/. But anyways I hope u all enjoyed this, and as always, ask/request anything, I love answering shit hehe.
Taglist: @lovingmattysposts @sturniolosreads @luv4kozume @luvmila444 @strniohoeee @strawberrysturniolo @asturniolos @thesturniolos @matthemunch @sturnioloenthusiast @vecnasnose0 @chr1sgirl4life @kvtie444 @ellie-luvsfics @hrt-attack @gigisworldsstuff @stargirlsturniololover @imlidewwallyhittingdagwiddy @sturniololoverr @jahlisa22 @bernardsgf @luvasr @meg-sturniolo @blahbel668 @liz-stxrn @sturnreblog @ratatioulle @luverboychris @isabellehoran @carolsturns1 @meanttomeet @rootbeerworshiper @lovergirl4387 @1800chokedathoe @sophie21153-blog
#sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#sub matt sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic
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To Write Better Antagonists, Have Them Embody the Protagonist's Struggles
(Spoilers for The Devil Wears Prada, Avatar the Last Airbender, Kung Fu Panda 2, and The Hunger Games triology).
Writing antagonists and villains can be hard, especially if you don't know how to do so.
I think a lot of writers' first impulse is to start off with a placeholder antagonist, only to find that this character ends up falling flat. They finish their story only for readers to find the antagonist is not scary or threatening at all.
Often the default reaction to this is to focus on making the antagonist meaner, badder, or scarier in whatever way they can- or alternatively they introduce a Tragic Backstory to make them seem broken and sympathetic. Often, this ends up having the exact opposite effect. Instead of a compelling and genuinely terrifying villain, the writer ends up with a Big Bad Edge Lord who the reader just straight up does not care about, or actively rolls their eyes at (I'm looking at you, Marvel).
What makes an antagonist or villain intimidating is not the sheer power they hold, but the personal or existential threat they pose to the protagonist. Meaning, their strength as a character comes from how they tie into the themes of the story.
To show what I mean, here's four examples of the thematic roles an antagonist can serve:
1. A Dark Reflection of the Protagonist
The Devil Wears Prada
Miranda Priestly is initially presented as a terrible boss- which she is- but as the movie goes on, we get to see her in a new light. We see her as an bonafide expert in her field, and a professional woman who’s incredible at what she does. We even begin to see her personal struggles behind the scenes, where it’s clear her success has come at a huge personal cost. Her marriages fall apart, she spends every waking moment working, and because she’s a woman in the corporate world, people are constantly trying to tear her down.
The climax of the movie, and the moment that leaves the viewer most disturbed, does not feature Miranda abusing Andy worse than ever before, but praising her. Specifically, she praises her by saying “I see a great deal of myself in you.” Here, we realize that, like Miranda, Andy has put her job and her career before everything else that she cares about, and has been slowly sacrificing everything about herself just to keep it. While Andy's actions are still a far cry from Miranda's sadistic and abusive managerial style, it's similar enough to recognize that if she continues down her path, she will likely end up turning into Miranda.
In the movie's resolution, Andy does not defeat Miranda by impressing her or proving her wrong (she already did that around the half way mark). Instead, she rejects the values and ideals that her toxic workplace has been forcing on her, and chooses to leave it all behind.
2. An Obstacle to the Protagonist's Ideals
Avatar: The Last Airbender
Fire Lord Ozai is a Big Bad Baddie without much depth or redemptive qualities. Normally this makes for a bad antagonist (and it's probably the reason Ozai has very little screen time compared to his children), but in Avatar: The Last Airbender, it works.
Why?
Because his very existence is a threat to Aang's values of nonviolence and forgiveness.
Fire Lord Ozai cannot be reasoned with. He plans to conquer and burn down the world, and for most of the story, it seems that the only way to stop him is to kill him, which goes against everything Aang stands for. Whether or not Aang could beat the Fire Lord was never really in question, at least for any adults watching the show. The real tension of the final season came from whether Aang could defeat the Fire Lord without sacrificing the ideals he inherited from the nomads; i.e. whether he could fulfill the role of the Avatar while remaining true to himself and his culture.
In the end, he manages to find a way: he defeats the Fire Lord not by killing him, but by stripping him of his powers.
3. A Symbol of the Protagonist's Inner Struggle
Kung Fu Panda 2
Kung Fu Panda 2 is about Po's quest for inner peace, and the villain, Lord Shen, symbolizes everything that's standing in his way.
Po and Lord Shen have very different stories that share one thing in common: they both cannot let go of the past. Lord Shen is obsessed with proving his parents wrong and getting vengeance by conquering all of China. Po is struggling to come to terms with the fact that he is adopted and is desperate to figure out who he is and why he ended up left in a box of radishes as a baby.
Lord Shen symbolizes Po's inner struggle in two main ways: one, he was the source of the tragedy that separated him from his parents, and two, he reinforces Po's negative assumptions about himself. When Po realizes that Lord Shen knows about his past and confronts him, Lord Shen immediately tells Po exactly what he's afraid of hearing: that his parents abandoned him because they didn't love him. Po and the Furious Five struggle to beat Shen not because he's powerful, but because Po can't let go of the past, and this causes him to repeatedly freeze up in battle, which Shen uses to his advantage.
Po overcomes Shen when he does the one thing Shen is incapable of: he lets go of the past and finds inner peace. Po comes to terms with his tragic past and recognizes that it does not define him, while Shen holds on to his obsession of defying his fate, which ultimately leads to his downfall.
4. A Representative of a Harsh Reality or a Bigger System
The Hunger Games
We don't really see President Snow do all that much on his own. Most of the direct conflict that Katniss faces is not against him, but against his underlings and the larger Capitol government. The few interactions we see between her and President Snow are mainly the two of them talking, and this is where we see the kind of threat he poses.
President Snow never lies to Katniss, not even once, and this is the true genius behind his character. He doesn't have to lie to or deceive Katniss, because the truth is enough to keep her complicit.
Katniss knows that fighting Snow and the Capital will lead to total war and destruction- the kind where there are survivors, but no winners. Snow tells her to imagine thousands upon thousands of her people dead, and that's exactly what happens. The entirety of District 12 gets bombed to ashes, Peeta gets brainwashed and turned into a human weapon, and her sister Prim, the very person she set out to protect at the beginning of the story, dies just before the Capitol's surrender. The districts won, but at a devastating cost.
Even after President Snow is captured and put up for execution, he continues to hurt Katniss by telling her the truth. He tells her that the bombs that killed her sister Prim were not sent by him, but by the people on her side. He brings to her attention that the rebellion she's been fighting for might just implement a regime just as oppressive and brutal as the one they overthrew and he's right.
In the end, Katniss is not the one to kill President Snow. She passes up her one chance to kill him to take down President Coin instead.
#writing#creative writing#novel writing#writer problems#writers of tumblr#writers on tumblr#writing advice#writing community#writing problems#fantasy writing#on writing#writer#writerscommunity#fantasy writer#writing a book#writing about writing#writing characters#writing villains#writing antagonists#long post
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"How can I be a witch/pagan without falling for conspiracy theories/New Age cult stuff?" starter kit
Posts & Articles
Check your conspiracy theory. Does any of it sound like this?
Check your conspiracy theory part two: double, double, boil and trouble.
QAnon is an old form of anti-Semitism in a new package, experts say
Some antisemitic dogwhistles to watch out for
Eugenicist and bioessentialist beliefs about magic
New Age beliefs that derive from racist pseudoscience
The New Age concept of ascension - what is it?
A quick intro to starseeds
Starseeds: Nazis in Space?
Reminder that the lizard alien conspiracy theory is antisemitism
The Ancient Astronaut Hypothesis is Racist and Harmful
The Truth About Atlantis
Why the Nazis were obsessed with finding the lost city of Atlantis
The Nazis' love affair with the occult
Occultism in Nazism
Red flag names in cult survivor resources/groups (all of them are far right conspiracy theorists/grifters)
The legacy of implanted Satanic abuse ‘memories’ is still causing damage today
Why Satanic Panic never really ended
Dangerous Therapy: The Story of Patricia Burgus and Multiple Personality Disorder
Remember a Previous Life? Maybe You Have a Bad Memory
A Case of Reincarnation - Reexamined
Crash and Burn: James Leininger Story Debunked
Debunking Myths About Easter/Ostara
Just How Pagan is Christmas, Really?
The Origins of the Christmas Tree
No, Santa Claus Is Not Inspired By Odin
Why Did The Patriarchal Greeks And Romans Worship Such Powerful Goddesses?
No, Athena Didn't Turn Medusa Into A Monster To Protect Her
Who Was the First God?
Were Ancient Civilizations Conservative Or Liberal?
How Misogyny, Homophobia, and Antisemitism Influence Transphobia
Podcasts & Videos
BS-Free Witchcraft
Angela's Symposium
ESOTERICA
ReligionForBreakfast
Weird Reads With Emily Louise
It's Probably (not!) Aliens
Conspirituality
Miniminuteman
Behind The Bastards
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YOUR? OUR MARGARET
PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x Single mom!reader
SUMMARY: Life slowed down when Leon first saw those tiny rays of sunlight. But he didn't think he would fall in love with the whole sun. Or: Leon falls in love with a single mother.
WARNINGS: Brief mentions of alcohol, government, leon's traumas, love confessions, Leon is a bit insecure and awkward but he's also a sweetheart and has a soft spot for kids, cheesy and corny type of love, this is just fluff believe me!
WORD COUNT: 4.5k
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If I had a nickel for every time I've written about Leon's transition from vendetta to death island I would have two which it isn't a lot but it's funny it happened twice. If you wish to know what song Leon played this is the one I had in mind. As always, I hope you like it. This is my Valentine's Day fic for today!
MY MASTERLIST
Gruesome scenarios and depressive states of mind have tainted Leon's path in life. However, the grizzled and gloomy agent has had a rather rough patch this last year in which he was left alone to die in his own sorrow—Raccoon City, Spain, China and his already-known addiction took a toll on him.
He doesn't have anyone to blame, nor does he want to. Yeah, he could blame the government for stripping him of his innocence and his genuine wish to help people but he felt like he had failed his nation, not the DSO, not the FBI, just him.
Behind closed doors, in the white house and for everyone else he's Agent Leon Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy, and if someone were to ask the president he'd say he's the most trusted weapon the country has.
He has grown accustomed. His shield has hardened to the point he's numb to most things he should find disturbing or annoying yet he couldn’t help but wish someone would see him the way he really is.
A bittersweet feeling grew in Leon’s system. Alcohol no longer brought the same dull sensation that’d put him to sleep even in the loudest and sleazy bar. So, slowly he grew out of his addiction. Not alone, though. Alongside him were a couple of therapists which he reluctantly confided in. Not because he didn’t believe in mental health, but because he thought it wasn’t for him.
Also, his friends made his life a bit better. Spare the man the embarrassment, but friendship does indeed make you see the world more colorfully. It was nice hearing his name slip out of his friends' lips. Leon, Leon! Aww, Leon.
However, life didn’t prepare him for the moment his name was replaced by a:
Dada.
Therapists had told him he should look for a hobby, something that’d fill those moments where boredom or monotony would push him to fall back into his deadly addictions. And he completely understood, he ought to follow the experts’ advice in order to actually improve.
It was rather easier, he was not a complicated man.
Even before the Raccoon City incident, he loved exercising. Whether it was lifting weights, cycling, or plain running he’d always be found doing something. The mere thought of just lying in bed was something he’d never engage in, especially not now that he’s getting better.
So, he combined two things. One he was familiar with and a second one he hasn’t been able to really connect with: nature.
Near his current apartment, there was a small park in which he goes jogging. Usually, his schedule would only allow him to go there in the early hours of the morning where the only people he’d find were retired grandparents who danced to some Spanish music he couldn’t understand.
Peaceful, he liked it.
But when he was getting used to his daily morning jogging, a call from work told him they needed him ASAP. So, his little detoxicating activity would be postponed to the afternoon.
After dealing with the usual stress from work, calls from Hunnigan, and a rather bothersome headache, he got to his apartment and decided to get ready and not skip his so-needed jogging.
The afternoon sky was painted with a hue of blue mixing with the slightest orange color, the gentle breeze hitting Leon’s face as he jogged around the park. His tempo never missed a beat not even after an hour or so between his physical training and some pauses. Sweat fell from his forehead and onto the ground with each step he took, meaning that he was reaching exhaustion.
At last, he found solace under a tree that cast a shadow, perfect for Leon to catch his breath. Closing his eyes, he let his lungs inhale as much air as they could.
His peaceful moment was broken when a tiny voice called out for him. Or rather, mistaken him for someone else.
“Dada!” A little girl came walking to where he was seated, wobbly steps trying to reach him.
“Margaret!” You appeared out of nowhere before the toddler could reach and hug the stranger. The giggling and excited kid seemed to have heard “run faster” by the way she didn’t stop at your call.
A hint of confusion washed over Leon as he watched the scene develop with rather curious eyes. A mop of curly hair running away from your grasp. The white dress turned into a slightly brown color, Leon guessed the child must have been playing in the dirt.
And then a glimpse of a faint smile replaced his previous bewilderment as his eyes fell on you. As you tried catching your daughter, he observed her antics and your patience.
Finally, your hands lifted the little one as her tiny legs kicked in the air, ready to run in the air.
You fixed Margaret’s dress and messy hair while her bright eyes continued being focused on the man sitting on the grass. Her hands doing the typical “grabby” motion to Leon. Sighing in defeat, you spoke to the man.
“Sorry, don’t know what happened.” You sheepishly said as you offered the man an apology for your daughter’s previous mischievous actions. “She usually doesn’t call random people dada I assure you.”
“She gave me quite the scare.” Leon chuckled as he got up from the grass. “My past actions flashed before my eyes.”
“As I said, I’m sorry.” You repeated your words while your daughter tried wriggling her way out of your arms. When she saw that her mother’s grip wasn’t budging, she took matters into her own hands.
She started crying.
You weren’t letting your daughter play with a stranger, that much you knew.
“My name’s Leon, by the way.” Leon said, extending his arm, but he pulled back as soon as he saw that you were too busy handling the tantrum your daughter was having.
You told Leon your name which easily fell from his lips to confirm he heard you well. “Do you normally come here?” You asked.
“Yes, but just in the mornings.” He responded, watching the little one pouting. “Something came out today so duty called. Cops don’t rest.”
“Wait, Are you a cop?” You seemed to relax at the revelation and he couldn’t help but get a Deja Vu from this little interaction. A friend of his asked him the same question, but at least now he wasn’t surrounded by zombies.
“A cop…” A whisper came out from Leon’s lips, a playful yet gentle smile formed on his face. “Kinda.”
“I’ll assume you’re way more important than that.” You adjusted Margaret in your arms when she finally calmed. Although she kept on staring at Leon, her bright eyes focused on him. “Because if you were indeed a cop or a chief you’d be puffing your chest out.”
“Are they always like that?” He acted surprised.
“Here, in New York? I don’t know… you tell me.”
It’s been a while since he last spoke with someone this freely. Surely he has talked with his friends a lot. But they were people he had previously known and shared the same past as him, a connection to the outside world seemed impossible and even greedy in a way.
Soon, both of you found yourselves unable to stop talking, even Margaret chirped from time to time, making her opinion loud and clear. He got to know a bit about you, and you got to know little fragments of his life. The ones who wouldn’t lead him to share more than necessary, obviously.
Despite the rough exterior, his constant frowning stopped as a soft expression replaced it. Margaret's chubby hands absentmindedly held one of Leon’s fingers as he spoke with you, blabbering and being overjoyed by his presence.
However, her cheerful mood slowly turned sour as soon as she got hungry. Glassy eyes and sobs warned you that the conversation would come to an end.
“Yup, I gotta go.” You murmured trying not to bring more stress to your already distressed baby. “It was nice talking to you.”
“Likewise.” Leon kept his hands in his pockets, unable to come up with anything else. He wanted to say that perhaps they could repeat this. But then again, he’s been so deprived of normal social interactions that he no longer knows if that would sound creepy.
“Have a good night.” He decided it would be the wisest thing to do. He watched your soft expression as you took your little girl’s hand and waved goodbye.
Ever since that little interaction, his schedule changed. His morning routine was long forgotten. An excuse was made, something between the lines that his shift changed so he has to work in the mornings.
And he was delighted to spend time with both of you. The highlights of his whole day would be getting to hear about you and Margaret.
Each day that passed meant new memories being made. From the way he got to know Margaret’s favorite ice cream flavor to your childhood dreams. Every detail mattered for him because he could now see how simple life could be.
He took—both of you mostly— on little dates. Let it be to try a new cafeteria near the park, drinking an americano while Margaret drank from her sippy cut which was filled with chocolate milk.
However, there were times in which Margaret would stay with a friend of yours. Allowing you to be alone with Leon. And while he appreciates the joy and happiness your daughter brought, he also loved the moments in which he could focus just on you.
Sadly, years of training didn’t prepare him to man up and make the first move. When he thought he would brush away every insecurity and second guesses, something would come up.
He wanted to grab your hand, the waiter would come at the worst time. He wants to compliment you, he'd almost choke with his own saliva. He wanted to give you a goodbye kiss after driving you home, someone would call him.
It was as if the universe was against him.
Thankfully, you had picked up those hints. And if Leon wasn't the luckiest man out there, you can help him in his predicament.
On a usual afternoon, as Margaret played with the leaves that had fallen from the trees, you shot him a question.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
“Huh? Yes, it sounds nice.” Leon absentmindedly replied, thinking it would be like the rest of your dates.
“I mean… In my house. I don't think I've invited you yet.”
In the meantime, Margaret had grabbed some leaves which she placed on Leon's hair. The man didn't even react to it, already used to her antics.
“I wouldn't like to intrude.”
“You wouldn't. See it as a friendly meeting.”
Friendly meeting, of course. He couldn’t be so selfish.
“If you insist.” He says as the little one giggles, her smile just showing two teeth. “When would it be?”
“Are you free this 14th?”
He nods, he doesn't even remember if he's in fact free. But he'd make time.
Besides, who works on Valentine’s Day?
⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹
He wishes he would've realized about the implications of the day sooner.
The other dates have been nothing but platonic. Of course he had been nervous, biting his nails to the point where had to put on clear nail polish.
But this one is for Valentine's Day. Day where people confess their love in dramatic ways. Some lucky people even propose on this date.
Leon has been out of the dating game for years. He believes he'll mess it up somehow, especially as he sees the reflection of himself in the mirror.
Of course, he knows he's getting better. But his appearance tells everyone otherwise. His hair continues being dark, a big contrast from his past self whose blond hair would be the talk of some people.
The palm of his hand brushes over his stubble cheek. The sensation of those tiny hairs is similar to blades. He looks at his watch, there is no time to shave. The last thing he wanted was to be late on his first date.
He sighs and walks toward the table, on top of it are two bouquets. One has multiple red and pink roses, that one is for you. The other one consists of a single white rose, for Margaret. Even if he has forgotten the basics of dating, he wouldn’t go empty-handed to your home.
The drive to your house isn’t an easy one. Not because he lacked driving skills, he is pretty much proud of how well he could drive when he is not facing life-or-death situations.
He takes his car, just for today. He knows he has to be himself and show you his love for bikes. But he would be lying if he wasn’t a tad scared about coming to your house driving his usual motorbike. What would you think? Surely you’d dump him for risking his life or something like that.
But he is so damned anxious. He turns on the radio, trying to muffle his thoughts but the first thing that comes up is a Valentine's Day advertisement. ‘Don’t mess up your date today! Try our newest product and—’ He’s trying, he doesn’t know what the ad is talking about but he needs no product for this date to be a success.
He turns off the stupid machine. After all, today’s music sucks. Nothing personal, he just doesn’t like it. He’d prefer if the radio played real music. Some Deftones and Korn would do.
But right now he’d dance to anything. Valentine’s Day, after all, should be a romantic getaway from the normalcy of life. Even though years had made him a corny individual, if it’s with you, romanticism should never die.
He’s rambling, his head is a mess. He sees himself slow dancing with you, Somethin’ Stupid playing in the background. He foresees a future in which he could paint next to your daughter, suns and trees never looked so pretty as he imagines that scenario.
Dating you would come with the whole pack, he knows well. But even at his age, he still feels like a broken child whenever he sees himself in the mirror. Memories of his innocence being stripped away of him and his present still clinging on to the faint threads of hope.
So that’s why he made the promise of taking this relationship seriously. No matter if you end up being nothing more than friends. People often say that you just know when you meet the one. And he saw the beacons of lights announcing the whole sun when he met you and your little one.
Eventually, he reaches your home. Double-checking the address you had previously sent him over text, he confirms this is the place you live in. A modest house, enough for you and Margaret.
He switches off the engine and takes out the key from the ignition. Placing his hands one last time on the steering wheel, he takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. And with a newfound conviction, he grabs the two bouquets and gets out of the car.
When he walks towards the door, he immediately knocks. If he dared to wait just a second just to calm his anxiety, he’d spend at least 5 minutes staring at the wooden material. So, he sacrifices that priceless time in order to face reality.
A ‘coming’ is heard by Leon a few seconds after he knocks. Eventually, the front door opens and you welcome him with Margaret in your arms. “Hey.” You greet him, Margaret doing the same as she waves her hand.
“Hey, you two.” Leon says with a warm smile, trying to hold back the fact that there hasn’t been a better image than this. “I couldn’t come empty-handed to your house so I took the liberty to bring you these.”
Leon then hands you the bouquets he had brought—the bigger one for you, and the smaller one with a single rose for Margaret.
“Are these for me?” A dumb question, of course. But there’s no harm to ask and surely it would get a nice reply from Leon who has been dancing around the idea of flirting with you. Too scared to come off as awkward and silly.
“I don’t see another pretty woman around here.” It slips so smoothly out of his lips. Leon Kennedy, you still got it, he mentally praises himself.
“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes, satisfied with the answer you received. “Please, come in.”
Leon nods and enters your house. The living room was nicely organized, and the way some toys blended in with the decoration brought a smile to his face. The perfect balance between the sober expected room with the colorful and childish playthings.
You set Margaret on the floor not before giving her the rose Leon gifted her. She absentmindedly walks toward the couch and sits down to inspect what an amazing thing the funny man brought.
“Well, looks like she likes them.” Leon hums as he watches how Margaret starts happily tearing the flower into tiny pieces. Her antics filling Leon’s heart, he could get used to this feeling.
He wants to.
“Yup, definitely.” And your eyes meet Leon’s, his piercing blue eyes are not cold as he often thinks. They remind you of the beach sea, of the gentle waves and the gentleness they carry.
And he sees himself in yours. In your eyes, he isn’t a cold and depressed agent who is fighting off the odds. He admires the man he’s becoming. The man who despite everything he has experienced, wants to do better.
“I haven’t told you yet but…” Leon trails off as he gathers the courage to do this simple yet nerve-wracking action. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he kisses your knuckles. A gentleman through and through. If he could win your heart, he’d do anything to protect both of you.
Although he was lying, even if he weren’t to win you over, you have already gained a friend who would literally save the world for you to live in with your most beautiful miracle.
“You’re sappy.” You shake your head laughing, but you don’t push Leon away. In a way, your teasing comes off as a thank you.
“And you break my heart.” He chuckles, letting go of your hand which falls to your side.
As it does, your eyes fall on Margaret. While she continues playing with torn pieces of the flower, you see her head swaying slowly from side to side, as if fighting off sleep.
“It’s nap time for little Margaret.” You break the silence as you walk toward Margaret whose tiny fingers still try to tear up the already destroyed rose.
You pick up Margaret and with the way she isn't getting fuzzy, your assumption was correct. She is fighting against Morpheus, sadly losing.
You glance at Leon who is standing in the same place you left him. Admiring the scene of you carrying your daughter.
“Would you like to help me?” You murmur.
Of course he does, he wants nothing more but to embark on this new life. He has seen so much horror and for once, he wants to indulge in this domestic dream of his.
“If you let me.”
Humble, timid, and definitely not showing how enthusiastic he was about helping you.
You nod and guide him upstairs. Margaret’s room was just next to yours, even though you prefer to sleep with her, still too nervous about her getting tangled in her own blankets.
As both of you reach the room, shades of pink and white greet Leon. Some toys are scattered around the floor too. Proof of Margaret’s wholesome behavior.
Margaret shifts in your arms, her previous peaceful demeanor changing given the frustration of not falling asleep yet. She is pretty much easy to handle when nap time comes, but today is one of those days.
“You told me I could help.” Leon's hushed voice reaches you. His eyes express the need to assist you in a task like this.
“Sure…” Your heart flutters as Leon steps up to help you. You indeed asked him if he wanted to come with you. But the fact he had so eagerly accepted the role made you appreciate him even more.
If that was even possible.
As Margaret starts letting out soft cries, you hand her to Leon who is quick to catch her. At first, Margaret is held rather awkwardly which brings a smile to your face before her cries get really serious.
You help Leon by moving his hand. That gains a quiet ‘ok ok’ meaning that he got the hang of it.
He positions Margaret on his chest, her face seeking the crook of his neck as she continues letting out tiny sobs. With his hand supporting his back, he rocks her.
If anyone were to see him, they'd think he's a father holding his daughter. But in his mind, he's holding your world, his world.
Oblivious to it, Leon started humming a song. He doesn’t know where he had heard it before. Maybe it came from his mother, a memory he thought was deeply buried in his mind.
Eventually, your baby falls asleep which definitely boosts Leon’s mood as she grins. He's built for this! He thinks.
He lays Margaret in her crib. The little one breathes slowly as she drifts off to dreamland.
Both of you slowly and quietly walk out of the room making sure not to make any loud noise and wake the sleeping princess.
As you slowly descend from the stairs and are once again in the living room, Leon’s mind is filled with expectations.
What's next?
What is he supposed to do now?
As if on cue, your words break the silence.
“I forgot to order the food.” You sheepishly admit as you nervously laugh. Between cleaning the house before Leon came and taking care of a toddler the fact that a dinner without food wouldn't be a dinner slipped out of your mind.
“I'll do it right now just give me a second to search for this one restau—”
“Hey, it's okay.” Leon reaches for your arm before you can walk toward where the phone is. He takes this opportunity to do all the things he has wanted to do with you. To accomplish each one of those silly yet endearing wishes of his.
“Besides… this is a great excuse for us to bond more.”
He lets go of your arm but instead, his hand takes out his cellphone. Your eyes curiously watch as he types something.
For a moment, Leon doesn't utter a word and you can see how his fingers are slightly shaking.
Leon looks up from the phone and gives you a gentle smile before he sets the phone aside. After a couple of seconds, the slow and wistful chords of a piano announce the beginning of a song.
“May I have this dance?” Leon extends his hand toward you.
You opt to accept his hand. In the back of your mind, you wanted to tease him one more time. Just like you did when he told you happy Valentine’s. But you feel this is way more important than those simple words.
As your hand locks with his, he pulls you closer to his body. His free arm finds its home in your lower back, not too low to keep it PG and not to discomfort you in this intimate dance.
Letting him guide you, you sway from side to side. His past self wouldn't have imagined that he could reach this level of serenity and tranquility. The simple thought of having a family was like a faraway dream.
Your head rests comfortably on Leon's shoulder, the scent of his cologne being your new favorite aroma. The one that brings you memories from the time you met him to all the dates you had that led to this very moment.
The song continues its course, and the outside world is forgotten for a moment. No words are exchanged as both of you drown in the homely feeling of dancing in each other's arms.
After a while, without lifting his head and allowing his lips to ever so slightly graze against your ears, Leon's voice cut through the peaceful melody.
“Let me in.” He whispers, his hands ever so slightly tightening around your middle section. His words brush against your ear like the soft melody that plays in the background.
“What do you mean?”
“Let me in, in your life. I don’t want to ask you to just be your partner.” The weight and truth of his statement turn your head in a messy place. “I want to be part of your life and Margaret’s.”
He wants to stick around, he wants to be greeted by you and Margaret each time he comes back from a mission. He wants to give Margaret the childhood he never had. And, he wants to fulfill every little dream you and he may have.
“I want to wake up next to you each morning. To Margaret telling us she's hungry in her own way.” He's always been a man of few words, but in this moment he could recite the whole bible if he wanted.
“I want to put Margaret to sleep every day just like I did today. And I want to sleep next to you every night, knowing that you're safe.”
“I don't want you to be a memory.” His lips move to the side of your face, daring to kiss your cheeks in a sweet manner. “I want you to be my whole life.”
Smoothly and with ease, his words fall from his lips while his tempo never falters. His thumb now softly rubs your skin, where his hand is located to support your back in the dance.
He'd want to take pride and tell you he's that good with words. However, many times he has rehearsed this speech that if he had stumbled on his words he'd have let the earth swallow him.
And as the song came to an end, so did Leon’s confession.
A few seconds of silence create the worst nightmare in Leon's imagination. He could already hear your words telling him you don't feel the same that you're already in love with someone else or—
Your knuckles caress Leon’s face, feeling the growing stubble on his cheek and jaw. The sensation of being touched like this has been a long-distance memory that he's completely forgotten what being loved felt like.
He now feels both of your hands cupping his face, prompting him to look you in the eyes. His blue eyes lock with yours and admire the softest of expressions drawn on your face.
As he gazes into you, he can only think how in love he is. And what a good life awaits for him.
And what feels like both an eternity and a split second, your lips connect with his in a tender yet meaningful kiss. One that he's been expecting after all this time.
The one is indeed not a myth.
AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: I had so much fun writing this. There's something about found family that makes me all soft and sappy lmao. And sorry if my despiction about cops is wrong... I've never set foot in the US so spare your writer the embarrassment. Anyway, I hope you all have a beautiful day! No matter if you spend it with your lover, friends or alone. (Dividers are from: @/cafekitsune)
💬 SHADESOFLSK: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy fluff#resident evil#resident evil x reader
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peeta mellark !!!! who loves all your insecurities likes it’s breathing <3 and who worships the ground you walk on because you’re his sun!!
peeta who loves your stretch marks even if you don’t. he’ll run his hands over the soft ridges, up and down, over and over. he’ll kiss the ones on your hips when he’s feeling lovesick (which is always) and he likes how you shudder under his mouth, say his name all breathless while you bury your hands in his hair.
peeta who doesn’t care if you don’t shave, it couldn’t bother him less. and if you do want smooth skin, he’ll offer to do it for you, claiming, “I’m an expert, sweetheart. c’mon, can I please?” you never say no, you can’t. he’s unbelievably careful and kisses your knees when he’s done.
peeta who loves your tummy and your thighs!! he’s always got a big warm hand on your thigh, or one under your shirt, kneading your stomach. they’re kind of his favourite parts of you. the parts he can squeeze all his love into. his favourite thing ever is when you wear a big t-shirt to bed so he has easy access to your thighs and tummy <3 better if it’s his t-shirt, of course.
peeta who braids your hair back for you before you sleep, no matter how tired he is. you sit on a cushion on the floor while he sits on the bed, fingers gentle as they card through your hair. sometimes you’ll fall asleep against his knee. he never has the heart to wake you up, so he lifts you into bed himself. you wake for a handful of seconds, enough to murmur a sweet, “thank you, pete.” he kisses your forehead, his way of saying you’re welcome.
peeta who takes your face in his hands when you cry, endlessly gentle. he swipes at your hot tears with his thumbs and curls his fingers behind your ears. “did you know you’re pretty even when you cry?” he’ll say. “how do you do that, hm?”
peeta whose love is hot like stars and infinite. he’ll go to the moon and back for you and he’s not afraid to let you know that <333
#★ mal writes!#peeta mellark#peeta mellark x reader#peeta mellark x fem!reader#peeta mellark blurb#peeta mellark fluff#peeta mellark x reader fluff#peeta mellark oneshot#peeta mellark drabble#peeta mellark imagine#peeta mellark fic#peeta mellark fanfiction#peeta mellark fanfic#peeta mellark x you#peeta mellark x y/n#thg#thg series#thg x you#thg x reader#thg x y/n#thg fanfiction#thg peeta#thg peeta x reader#thg peeta x you#thg peeta x y/n#hunger games#the hunger games#the hunger games x reader#the hunger games x you#the hunger games x y/n
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Exile
Pairings: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader
Summary: you and Wednesday were best friends when you were kids, but after Nero’s death, she became cold and distant, and your former friendship turned into a rivalry. Ten years after your friendship ended, unusual circumstances force you two back together.
Trope: childhood friends to enemies to lovers
Warnings: small violent at beginning, angst, death of Nero. Let me know if I missed any!
My Masterlist
Word Count: 12.3K (what’s a word count?)
The sound of children laughing rang throughout the woods on a crisp fall morning. The trees were beautiful vibrant colors that painted the landscape with shades of fiery red, golden yellow, and earthly orange. The crisp air that one could taste in their lungs carried a gentle rustling of fallen leaves while the scent of decaying foliage filled the atmosphere. The ground was adorned with a carpet of fallen leaves that created a soft crunch when the two children ran through the serene woodland.
Even though one child chased the other with a small ax, the two had the same fun. The one with the ax was a taller girl with jet-black twin braids who wore all-black clothing, expert for her white collar shirt. She wore a giant smile on her face as she chased her best friend, Y/N.
You were shorter than Wednesday but had just as much fire in you as Wednesday did. Where Wednesday’s eyes were as black as night, you had a gray and green eye that you used to hide behind sunglasses until Wednesday told you they were the most beautiful things in the world, “You shouldn’t hide what separates you from others, Y/N. Especially if it makes you all the more beautiful.”
You wore brighter colors than Wednesday, but you both shared a love for darkness. You were nothing without Wednesday, just as Wednesday was nothing without you.
The two made an odd pair, but one was never seen without the other. There were times when Morticia had to pry her daughter away from you to find that you had snuck back over sometime in the moonlight. Whenever Wednesday would practice her cello, she would invite you to play the piano, and together you two would create the most heavenly sound that would make angels cry. The contrast was there, but they fit together like puzzle pieces.
As they ran through the woods, you tripped on a small branch and fell to the ground, causing worry to overtake Wednesday as she sprinted to the fallen girl. “Are you alright, Y/N?” Wednesday asked as she knelt beside her friend, but her worry quickly disappeared when you sprang up and tackled her to the ground. You removed the ax from the taller girl’s grasp and held it to her neck. “I appear to be the victor,” you said with a giant smile contrasting Wednesday’s grim expression.
Wednesday leaned up and shoved you off her as she stood up and brushed herself off. “That’s hardly a win; you cheated,” Wednesday replied dryly as she helped you off the ground.
“I might have cheated, but you’re still the loser,” you shot back while standing up. You lived for the playful banter with Wednesday and would rather lose your tongue than go without annoying Wednesday for a day. You handed Wednesday the ax back so she could be the Hunter again, and she placed it in its holster on her hip.
As you two were getting ready to start a new game, a voice rattled the trees around you, “Wednesday! Y/N! Time to come home!” The two shared a look and rolled their eyes simultaneously; they both hated it when Morticia ruined their fun, but they started their walk back to the house nonetheless.
As they walked, Wednesday felt bold and pulled you into a headlock and brought the smaller girl’s head against her ribcage. You didn’t even have time to protest before you felt Wednesday’s knuckles dig into your scalp. You squirmed against Wednesday’s hold, but it was useless; the taller girl was stronger than you. So, you did what any sane person would do; you bit down on Wednesday’s forearm that was keeping you in place. Not enough to hurt the assailant, but just enough to let go of you. And just as you predicted, Wednesday let go of you and grabbed the area that the smaller girl just bit. “Why did you do that?” Wednesday questioned as she rubbed her arm back and forth.
“Uh, because I can?” You retorted as you motioned with her hand, giving Wednesday an attitude that the other girl scoffed at. “Let us go, my compact companion; we have tasks at hand,” Wednesday said as she grabbed your hand, and the two ran back to the Addams’ residence together.
“You have to stop calling me that,” you whined. Wednesday had her collection of names to call you, and the shorter girl hated them.
“It’s not my fault you’re shorter than me; blame your genetics,” Wednesday replied with a dry tone but a slight smile that caused you to smile once you saw it. Wednesday never smiled at anyone except you; Wednesday made a lot of exceptions for the more petite girl, even though she would never admit it.
When they arrived at the mansion, both girls were out of breath as Morticia came outside to greet them. “Hello, my little doves. Did you two enjoy the hunt?” Wednesday’s mother asked them as they went inside and took off their shoes.
“Yes, Mrs. Addams, I always have fun with Wens. She’s the best,” you breathlessly replied as you followed Wednesday up to her room.
Morticia was always fond of you; she loved how her morbid daughter seemed to light up when she was around you, and she knew that her daughter could always rely on and trust you. But all great things must come to an end.
Wednesday held her bedroom door open for you as they entered. The room was dark and cold, but it had character, like Wednesday. There were two giant windows that Wednesday always kept covered on the opposite wall of the door. There were collections of knives hung up on the walls, and the shelves were littered with bookshelves, and in the corner of the room was a cello right next to Y/N’s piano. A small fireplace was built into the wall and had a black, round table in front of it that sat only two. A black bed was in the center of the room with its headboard against the wall, and at the end of the bed was a small bed bench that was purple, Y/N’s favorite color. Above Wednesday’s bed were two swords mounted onto the ceiling; one had a black handle with the purple initials of W.A. etched into the ricasso, while the other had a purple handle with your initials engraved in black. You found the swords a bit odd, but according to Wednesday, it made her feel like Damocles.
You messed with the record player beside the fireplace and put on your favorite record. Soon, the upbeat saxophone of ‘Bop’ by Dan Seals filled the room. Wednesday rolled her eyes when she saw you recreate John Travolta’s ‘Twist’ dance from Pulp Fiction.
I want to bop with you, baby, all night long
I want to be-bop with you, baby, till the break of dawn
I want to bop with you, baby, all night long
“Come on, Wens. You know you wanna dance with me,” You said as you started making the swimming motion from the dance. Finding that she could never say no to Y/N, Wednesday rolled her eyes again before copying Uma Thurman’s dance to match you. When Wednesday did the snorkel dance move, you laughed at the taller girl’s awkwardness, and Wednesday smiled at the thought of making you laugh.
Out of breath, the two finished the dance, and they both had giant smiles as their eyes copied their lips. “Shall we dance again, my fair lady?” You asked as she stuck out your hand and slightly bowed.
“You’re exhausting,” Wednesday stated but took your hand and allowed the girl to spin her.
Twenty minutes had passed when the clock on the fireplace dinged, telling Wednesday it was time to walk Nero. “It’s time for me to walk Nero, but I will see you when I get back,” Wednesday stated as she moved toward the area that was reserved for Nero and got him out of his cage, and put him on his leash.
The three walked down the front door together and left the house together. “See you in a minute,” you said as you walked away from Wednesday. The taller girl sent you a small wave as she walked toward town with Nero.
You arrived home and did what you usually did when Wednesday was away; you waited. You knew Wednesday’s schedule to the tee: wake up at six, morning torture with Pugsley at six-thirty, breakfast at seven-thirty, play with Y/N at eight until her walk with Nero at ten-thirty, come back at eleven and practice her cello with Y/N until twelve-thirty and have lunch at twelve-thirty five. The hours between one and three were filled with any ‘spontaneous activities’ Wednesday might want to do, and at four, she read until five, had dinner at six, and did nightly torturing with Pugsley (or Y/N if you consented) at six-thirty until bedtime at eight-thirty.
So when you checked the clock and saw it was ten-thirty-five, you left her house and skipped to Wednesday’s. As you approached the house, there was a sudden shift in the air, and you could taste it on your lips: death had arrived. You cautiously walked up the stairs and knocked on the door, something you never did. You were always around Wednesday so much that Morticia told you that you didn’t need to knock anymore as she could ‘sense’ the girl’s presence.
When the door opened, you knew that something had happened; you just hoped that Wednesday was okay. Gomez was standing before you with a grim expression as he ushered you in. Your eyes landed on a weeping Wednesday, and your heart broke. You moved to sit next to the goth girl and opened your arms, and Wednesday immediately hugged you and buried her face in the crook of your neck. You rubbed her best friend’s back as she continued crying; you didn’t know what to do, but you only knew that you wanted to be with Wednesday.
The following day, Wednesday had a funeral for Nero, and no one but Y/N could attend. The two girls shed a tear as they both placed a flower on his grave, and you comforted Wednesday once more. Later that night, in Wednesday’s room, Wednesday had allowed you to sleep in bed with her. The two girls were cuddled together, staring at the swords above them, when Wednesday broke the silence, “You are far too dear to me, Y/N. The pain I have felt the past two days is something I never want to experience again, and I certainly do not wish to experience it all over again because of you.”
“Don’t worry, Wednesday. You’re stuck with me till life do us part,” you replied as you hugged your best friend, never wanting to lose the girl.
At just six years old, Wednesday had lost her beloved pet and experienced grief for the first time, and she knew that she would have to grieve every single person in her life at some point. So that night, she made a vow; never to be close enough to someone where she would shed a tear because of their death, and that meant letting go of who she loved most: Y/N.
At first, it was very subtle: Wednesday would smile less around you, and she would spend less time working with you on your music. It was so subtle that no one but you noticed, and it hurt you. Then, more significant things began to happen; Wednesday would purposely fill her schedule with things to do that didn’t involve you, and when you two did hang out, she made sure to try and distance herself from you. And then it all came crashing down on Wednesday’s seventh birthday.
You had a small box in your hand as you walked up the steps to the front door of the Addams mansion and knocked, patiently waiting for someone to open the door. Only a few seconds had passed before Morticia opened the door and towered over the small child. “Hello, my darling. Wednesday is in the greenhouse,” Morticia said as she stood aside and let you into the house before shutting the door.
“Thank you, Mrs. Addams. I haven’t seen her in a couple of days, so I hope she won’t be angry,” you innocently said as you ignored the pain in her heart that Morticia seemed to pick up on.
Eager to change the subject in fear of you becoming sad, Morticia asked as she led you to the greenhouse, “I’ve already told you that you can stop calling me ‘Mrs. Addams,’ My child, so why do you continue?”
You shrugged your shoulders at the comment. You didn’t know why you still spoke to the woman in a formal tone, but it felt weird on your tongue to call her anything else. “I don’t know, I think it’s a respect thing for me,” you replied as you opened the door to the greenhouse. Morticia nodded at the child’s words before whispering, “Have fun with my little death trap.”
You smiled at Morticia’s words as you entered the greenhouse. You knew precisely where Wednesday would be and didn’t pretend to look for the goth girl.
Wednesday was cutting black roses from their stem when she heard soft footsteps behind her. She didn’t bother turning around; she could recognize those footsteps in the crowd of a thousand people. “What are you doing here, YN?” Wednesday asked in a dry tone that caused you to stiffen.
“It’s your birthday, and I wanted to give you something,” you said as you approached Wednesday and set the box next to her. “I know you love your birthday, as it is one more year closer to your death, so here’s your present to celebrate.”
Wednesday gave the more petite girl a suspicious look before putting down the rose and scissors and picking up the box. It was unnaturally light, so she doubted it was a weapon or bomb. She slowly took the lid off the box, and any words died on the tip of her tongue once she realized what it was.
It was a small, black, crocheted scorpion that took you hours to make. She also saw a small note underneath the scorpion, but she didn’t pick it up as her vision became red.
She didn’t know why she was angry. All Wednesday knew was that she wanted you gone. “Get out,” Wednesday hissed as she set the box down and grabbed a knife from her boot.
“What? Why?” You asked as you slowly backed up from Wednesday as your eyes fell on the knife. Of course, Wednesday would make the occasional threats, but you had never believed them; until now.
“Friends are nothing but liabilities, and they only hold me back. So. Get. Out.” Wednesday repeated as she backed you against a small flower pot. She no longer had control over her emotions, and every second she spent with you only seemed to anger her more.
“Wednesday, please. I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you would have liked the gift. Please, I’m your best friend, and I-” Any words you were about to say got caught in your throat as Wednesday brought the knife up, cutting a straight line on your left eye. The cut was three inches below your eye and an inch above it.
The two stood there in disbelief as neither could believe what happened. Only when blood started pouring out of your cut, and you collapsed onto the floor did Wednesday do something; she called out for her mother’s help for the first and only time as she held you in her eyes, trying her best to fight back tears.
Morticia ran out to the greenhouse and instantly scooped you into her arms as she yelled for Gomez. The man came burling down the stairs and could not contain his tears as she saw your blood-covered state.
The couple quickly rushed you to the hospital, and once you were checked into the ER, the couple notified your parents. They arrived within ten minutes of the phone call, and they were everything but calm, from questioning how Morticia and Gomez allowed this to happen to demanding that Wednesday be punished.
The two sets of parents seemed to be at each other’s throats while Wednesday tried her best to disappear. She felt nothing but guilt for hurting her Y/N, and she wanted to do everything possible to make it up to the girl. So when Wednesday got her chance to see you, she practically sprinted into your room.
You were lying in a hospital with the entire left side of your face bandaged up, and Wednesday could see some blood seeping through. Wednesday slowly approached the bed and gently grabbed your hand. As if repulsed by the touch, you quickly pulled your hand away from Wednesday’s and brought it to your chest. You glared at Wednesday with your right eye before hissing, “Get out.”
“No, Y/N, you don’t understand-” Wednesday started but was quickly cut off by Y/N.
“I’m nothing but a liability to you, Wednesday, so leave,” you said as you crossed your arms and looked away from Wednesday, refusing to cry in front of the taller girl. ‘I think I’ll miss you forever; like the stars miss the sun in the morning skies,’ you thought as you watched your best friend leave.
Wednesday nodded her head and slowly walked to the door, and turned to face you one last time. “Please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere.”
You were once her crown, and now she was in exile seeing you out. She gave you so many warning signs, but you never learned to read her mind.
When she left the hospital, she felt nothing but shame and guilt that filled her body the entire car ride back home. She cleaned the blood off the floor before going to her room, where she sobbed for the second and last time.
School was different after that happened; the former best friends refused to meet each other’s gaze and soon found that their previous partnership turned into rivalry, constantly competing to be number one. It was an unfair competition, as Wednesday was more naturally gifted than you, and she seemed to beat you at everything, but you refused to give you. You would spend hours perfecting your craft, and when it came time for the archery competition, you beat Wednesday by a single point. Any chance for friendship was ruined when you accepted the first-place trophy and sent Wednesday an evil glare when she was awarded her second-place trophy.
Their rivalry continued like this for numerous years, always for captain for a particular activity or number one in their grade, but just as before, you always seemed to fall short. It continued for three years until you suddenly stopped showing up for school.
Wednesday believed that she had beaten you so far into the ground that you decided to stop coming to school. But after two weeks had passed and Wednesday had not seen her former best friend, she became curious and decided to stop by your house.
Only when Wednesday saw the ‘for sale’ sign in your yard, she allowed herself to be swallowed by guilt. She had pushed you too far in their competition for first and had made you move. Wednesday realized that she might never see her Y/N again, and regret flooded her mind as she slept on the purple bed bench with your sword in her arms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I think we are getting a new student today, and I'm totes excited!” Enid exclaimed as she skipped to Wednesday’s side of the room. The last person to arrive at Nevermore Academy was Wednesday herself, so naturally, Enid was ecstatic to meet someone new.
“You know I do not care for new faces who share the same boring personalities as everyone else here,” Wednesday mumbled while she typed on her type-writer.
Enid huffed at Wednesday’s remark before glancing at her roommate’s work. Wednesday noticed the action and quickly sent an elbow into Enid’s side, causing the girl to groan in pain. “You also know I hate it when you try to read my work. I have no idea why you keep trying to read anything; you know the result,” Wednesday stated as she continued typing.
“Whatever. Just humor me for a moment,” Enid said as she put some space between her and Wednesday, avoiding any elbows that might be sent her way. “I will not humor you but continue.”
“So, from what my sources tell me, she’s from Italy, not like the normal part of Italy, but the mob part!” Enid informed while using her hands to talk.
“Enid, just because someone is from Sicily doesn’t mean they are in the mob. And if she is, I would like to interrogate her about it; it could add a new element to my novel,” Wednesday said.
The brighter girl walked to her side of the room and grabbed her phone. When she picked it up, she made an obnoxious sound before sprinting to Wednesday. “She’s here Wednesday. You have to come and meet her!” Enid exclaimed as she lightly pulled on Wednesday’s arm, causing her to receive a death glare, but she allowed herself to be drawn from her seat.
The two quickly walked down the stairs and arrived at Weems’ office. “Why are we standing creepily outside Weems’ office?” Wednesday questioned as she glanced over her shoulder at her roommate.
“Because, silly, she’s in there talking to Weems right now, and when she comes out, I want to be the first to greet her. And I’ve already volunteered to give her a tour of the grounds,” Enid exclaimed in a hushed tone as if the stranger and Weems were pressed against the door, spying on their conversion.
“And what will I do? I am certainly not talking to another half-brain student,” Wednesday said dryly as she stared at the door.
Enid rolled her eyes at the goth girl’s statement; she had made Wednesday talk to someone new only once to find out that the person only talked about horses and the patriarchy. “You can glare uncomfortably on the sidelines then,” Enid replied.
Wednesday was getting ready to retort when she heard shuffling from behind the door and soft-spoken words that she could not make out.
“Howdie, friend! I’m Enid, and I’ll be giving you the tour!” Enid enthusiastically said as she attacked the girl with a hug.
All the air from Wednesday’s lungs had been sucked out as she stared at the stranger before her. She prayed to the old gods and new that this wasn’t some evil joke, her punishment for raising the dead. But when she saw the stranger smile, she knew this was her Y/N.
You stood before Wednesday with a human highlighter wrapped around your waist. You were wearing black slacks with a black button-up, and Wednesday felt a heart pick up as she admired you in her color. Where you once had chubby cheeks, they were now thinned out, and you had a jawline that could cut glass. You were once a short and stocky kid, but now you towered over Enid, and your muscular arms wrapped around the rainbow girl. It seemed like everything about you had changed, but nothing at all as well. You still had that bright smile and charming personality, as always, but Wednesday’s heart sank when she saw the scar on your eye. It took her a moment to notice it as you wore black sunglasses hiding your beautiful heterochromia.
“Ah, good, you’re already here, Enid, to give Miss Y/L/N a tour, and you’ve brought Miss Addams as well,” Weems said as she stepped out of her room and stood next to Enid and you. Wednesday nearly melted onto the floor when she saw you pull back from Enid and stand up straight, just a few inches shorter than Weems. She noticed how your smile faltered at the mention of ‘Addams’ before you played it off and plastered a fake smile on your lips. The air that was once filled with playful curiosity was one of tension, anger, betrayal, and longing.
“Addams,” you said with no emotion in a thick Italian accent as you extended your large and callused hand toward Wednesday that engulfed the goth girl’s small and cold hand. When your hands touched for the first time in ten years since the hospital, you both felt an electric charge pass between you two, and time seemed to stand still for a moment while the rest of the world disappeared around them.
Your covered eyes locked with Wednesday’s, and you both knew you felt an undeniable spark that sent shivers down your spines. Unspoken words seemed to flow between their fingertips as if their souls were communicating through the simple touch. They both felt the unexplainable and undeniable chemistry rushing back and flooding their minds as they looked at each other for the first time in seven years.
“Y/L/N,” Wednesday replied as she eagerly dropped your hand and wiped her palm on her pants as if it would erase the spark she felt.
Enid and Weems both shared a look as they watched the awkward encounter between the two girls, clearly displaying that they have a history between them. Enid cleared her throat as she stepped between you and Wednesday, “alrighty then, shall we get started with our tour?”
Your mood switched on a dime, and you instantly beamed at Enid’s words. You smiled down at the girl and locked your elbow with hers, and rested your hand gently on her arm, “Of course, my dear, let us begin our journey.” Wednesday pulled her eyes at your remark but walked a few paces behind you and her roommate; she knew this would be the start of a very unfortunate friendship.
“Welcome to the quad,” Enid said as she unlocked your arms and motioned around with her hands. “It’s a pentagon,” you replied as you looked at your surroundings.
Enid rolled her eyes at your comment; great, now she’d have to deal with two Wednesdays as if one wasn’t enough. “You know, Wednesday said the same thing when she first arrived too. I have a feeling you two will be the best of friends!” Enid stated in a cheerful tone after releasing that her roommate can have more than one friend.
“No,” the formal best friends said simultaneously and sent each other a glare, and if Enid picked up on it, you were glad she didn’t say anything.
“Allow me to give you a rundown on the social scene here at Nevermore,” Enid said as she walked around the ‘quad.’ “There are many flavors of outcasts here, but the four main cliques are Fangs, Furs, Stoners, and Scales,” the brighter girl stated while counting her fingers.
As Enid gave you the tour, you half paid attention out of respect for the girl trying to sell Nevermore to you, but all you could think about was the more petite girl standing a few feet behind you. You could feel her eyes burning holes into your back, but you couldn’t face her again, not after everything you’ve been through. There was once a time when you would have laid down your life for Wednesday; now, you could barely breathe the same air as her without getting angry. You knew it was stupid to hold a grudge for this long, but Wednesday was your first and only love, and you would be damned if you let her see you weak again.
When you finished the tour, Enid took you to your room, which was, unfortunately, in Ophelia Hall. “O-M-G! You’re rooming with Yoko! She is my best friend,” Enid announced before looking over at Wednesday, “well, besides Wens, obviously.”
Your heart sank at the nickname for Wednesday. Only you were allowed to call her Wens when you were children, and she barely let you do that. And now, here she was, allowing someone dressed like unicorn vomit to call her that without so much as an idle threat.
“‘Wens?’” You questioned with an eyebrow raised as you looked between the two roommates. You were glad you started to wear your sunglasses again so that neither girl could see the sadness in your eyes. But Wednesday knew you all too well, and she saw how your posture faltered when Enid called her that, and she saw the barely noticeable frown that tugged at your lips. ‘My name should only ever leave your lips,’ Wednesday wanted to say, but she held her tongue.
“Oh, yeah. That’s my nickname for Wednesday. She told me that no one has ever given her one before, so I decided to give her one,” Enid said as she ushered the two girls back to her room, “Come on, I wanna show you mine and Wednesday’s room.”
At the mention of Wednesday never having a nickname, you dropped your fake smile and looked at Wednesday, who was refusing to meet your gaze. ‘Do I mean that little to you where you would erase even our happiest memories?’ You thought when Wednesday finally looked up at you, and for the first time today, you saw emotion in her dark eyes: regret.
“I love the window,” you said as you entered Enid and Wednesday’s room. You loved the contrast between the two girls and how they seemed to get along perfectly; it reminded you of when you were young and Wednesday’s favorite person. Now, the girl barely looked at you.
“Thanks; the first day here, Wednesday took off her side of color and then put tape down to divide our room. And now look at how far we’ve come! I’m like the only one here who Wens actually cares about!”Enid exclaimed as she spun in her circle with her arms outstretched, clearly happy to be buddy-buddy with Wednesday. You nodded your head, trying to push back the tears that weld in your eyes at the mention of Wednesday caring for someone else before your eyes snapped to something on Wednesday’s wall.
“What’s this?” You questioned as you moved to get a closer look at the object that had caught your attention, causing both of the roommates to follow you.
“Oh, that’s one of Wednesday’s favorite weapons. She doesn’t let anyone touch it, not even me,” Enid said as her eyes fell on the sword mounted to the wall above Wednesday’s writing desk. Your eyes scanned over the sheathed sword and fell to the purple handle before you turned and looked at Wednesday. “May I?” You asked in a barely audible voice.
You expected Wednesday to shoot you down before you even finished speaking, but the girl gave you a curt nod, not trusting her voice at this moment. Your hands reached up and took the sword off its mantle, and you slowly took it out of its sheath and set it down on Wednesday’s desk. You turned the sword over and admired the sharp edge as you carefully ran your pointer finger along the blade’s edge; you could easily tell that Wednesday had been sharpening it routinely. Your finger finally made its way to the helm of the sword, and you turned it over and sucked in air as you let out a small chuckle.
You read your initials that were still engraved in the sword before your saddened eyes finally looked up at Wednesday’s guilt-ridden ones. Wednesday thanks the gods that you had your eyes covered, as she knew her heart would have broken ten times over if she saw the sadness in them.
“Well, then,” you said with a shaky breath as you sheathed the sword and placed it back on its mantle, “it’s a beautiful blade, Wednesday.” Your eyes caught something in the corner of Wednesday’s desk, and you felt every single emotion wash over you like waves crashing onto the shore: a small, black crocheted scorpion sat on top of an unopened note. Before you could comment on it, Wednesday’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.
“I know it is,” Wednesday spoke honestly as her eyes danced across your face while you picked up on the double meaning behind her words.
After several seconds of awkward tension, you cleared your throat and walked to the door, “Alright then, I’ll, uh, leave you guys to it.”
Wait!” Enid shouted as she skipped over to you with her phone in hand. “Let me get your Snapchat so we can talk some more,” she said as she pulled up Snapchat. You smiled politely as you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and opened up Snapchat, and allowed the werewolf to add you, and you accepted her friend request when it popped up.
“I’ll see you later, Enid,” you said as you opened up the door to walk out, but you stopped and turned around to face Wednesday, “see you around sometime, Addams.” As you left, only one thought ran across both of your minds: ‘I can’t say hello to you and risk another goodbye.’
When you left the room, Enid immediately turned to face her roommate. “What was that about?” She questioned while staring down at the goth girl.
“I have no idea what you are referring to,” Wednesday replied as she walked over to her desk and began working on her novel. She had emotions come back that she had not felt in nearly ten years, and she needed to get them off her chest, writing out different scenarios of her killing Y/N.
Enid stomped to Wednesday’s desk and turned the small girl around in her chair. She grasped Wednesday’s shoulders and tightly gripped them as she spoke, “Yes, you do. Do not lie to me, Wednesday, or I will paint the side of your hot pink.”
The more petite girl rolled her eyes at her roommate’s comment before prying the hands off her shoulders and returning to her typewriter. “We used to be friends, and now we aren’t; end of story,” Wednesday flatly replied.
“I don’t believe you, I know there’s more to the story, but I won’t pressure you,” Enid defeatedly said as she walked over to her bed and lay down. Of course, she was dying to know the history between you and Wednesday. Still, she would never force Wednesday to talk about something uncomfortable, so she decided to wait it out and see if she could get an answer from either you or Wednesday first.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The two roommates walked into fencing class and heard the ringing of metal crashing together, and saw that Bianca was in a match with you. The two watched as you blocked Bianca’s advances and matched each of her assaults with double the force, causing the siren to walk backward toward the end of the mat. With one final blow against Bianca’s foil, you cause her to step backward off of the mat and ultimately lose the match.
Bianca let out an angry huff at the loss but shook your hand afterward. “You gave me a nice challenge, and I respect that. I hope to go up against you again soon,” the siren said as she walked off the mat.
“Maybe you’ll get lucky next time and beat me,” you joked as you started to take off your gear when your eyes landed on Wednesday. Before you had moved, you and Wednesday were always in fencing competitions, and it seemed that the two of you were always paired to go against one another. Naturally, you lost every time you went against her, but that was seven years ago, and you spent the past seven years perfecting every little thing that Wednesday was better at.
“Coach Vlad, I was wondering if I could go against someone else before class ends?” You questioned as you stood up. You knew that if you publicly challenged Wednesday that she couldn’t turn it down, and you also knew that she believed she was still the better fencer, so both of those gave you an advantage.
Coach Vlad studied your expression and determined that you only asked to prove a point, so he let you. “Who will you be challenging, miss Y/LN?”
“Addams,” was all you said as you stared at the girl dressed in an all-black fencing attire. Wednesday’s ears perked up at you challenging her, and she knew she would clear you.
“Very well, Wednesday, if you accept the challenge, stand the opposite of Y/N,” Coach Vlad stated with a hint of excitement. He loved watching the way the Addams sparred with his students; she was graceful yet coarse, which reminded him of when he was a student here at Nevermore.
Wednesday walked over to the mat you were standing on, her eyes locked with your covered ones. She wondered what made you wear those sunglasses again, and she missed those eyes she once called home.
“En garde,” Coach Vlad yelled as the atmosphere crackled with tension. The room falls into a reverent silence as the match begins. With grace and precision, you and Wednesday engage in a mesmerizing dance of footwork and technique, each exchange showcasing your guys' skill and determination.
Their moves were swift and calculated, their attacks and defenses fluid, each striving to gain the upper hand. The crowd of students watched in awe as they witnessed a display of finesse and competitive spirit.
Wednesday made the first aggressive move, launching a series of rapid lunges, attempting to catch you off guard. But you proved your prowess with deft parries, countering with swift ripostes that keep Wednesday on her toes.
As the match progressed, the intensity escalated, and their footwork became even more intricate, seeking to exploit any opening in their opponent's defense. The clang of metal echoed through the hall as their foils met in a series of fierce clashes.
Neither competitor gave an inch, their faces showing steely determination. You and Wednesday are evenly matched, your skills complementing each other, creating a mesmerizing spectacle for the crowd.
With each point you and Wednesday scored, your fellow students held their breaths, afraid that if they cheered, it would mess you two up. Yours and Wednesday’s adrenaline surged, and your focus sharpened, all distractions fading away as you two immersed yourselves entirely in the moment.
Time seemed to slow down, the seconds stretching into eternity as the match neared its climax. With one final burst of energy, you executed a daring feint, catching Wednesday off balance. In that split second, you placed your foot on top of Wednesday’s and advanced, causing the more petite girl to fall backward onto the mat. You stood over her and shoved the tip of the foil into her chest armor.
“I appear to be the victor,” you said as you towered over Wednesday before she quickly jumped up from the ground and stormed out of the hall, with you right on her heels.
“That was hardly a win; you cheated,” Wednesday stated as she stomped toward Ophelia hall. “And stop following me.”
“I might have cheated, but you’re still the loser,” you retorted as you quickened your step to walk beside Wednesday. “And I’m not following you; we live in the same hall.”
Wednesday said nothing; she couldn’t argue with the fact you two shared a hallway, but she still didn’t like it. You watched as Wednesday threw her door open and slammed it shut with a smile on your face; it felt good to have that playful banter back.
Naturally, your rivalry with Wednesday continued as if it had never left; you two constantly competed for the correct answers in your classes, and you two refused to fence with anyone else. It became so toxic that teachers started putting you two out in the hallway during class, like little toddlers who were being disruptive.
“I had a marvelous time ruinin’ everything,” you joked with Wednesday as it seemed you two were sitting outside your potions class once more. You had your back pressed against the stone wall next to the door, and Wednesday opted to sit next to you but kept a few feet between you.
“I do suppose ruining the activities of others is tolerable with you,” Wednesday said as she looked over at your beautiful smile that she once loved and felt her own lips twitch upward.
“I know my antics should be celebrated, but I’m glad you tolerate it,” you said once you saw her scary attempt at a smile.
At the week's end, Enid invited you to her room for some “girl talk.” You had no idea what girl talk would involve, but you wouldn’t pass up a chance to piss Wednesday off.
“Welcome to my dreamhouse!” Enid exclaimed as she opened the door and ushered you into her room. You knew it might be ill-tempered to say this, but you were jealous of Enid’s room. You loved the giant window in the center that emitted different colors throughout the room, highlighting and contrasting the two drastically different sides.
You followed Enid to her side and sat down on her bed with her. You allowed the werewolf to paint your nails a dark purple. She asked you questions about your past and what you wanted to do in the future. You told her that Criminal Justice intrigued you and you thought about becoming a detective at some point. In turn, you asked her what her future plans were, and she told you that if her parents allowed her, she would want to explore the world and see all the beauties she offered.
After you two had fallen into a peaceful conversation, she finally asked the question plaguing her mind since you first arrived, “So, how did you get that scar? If you don’t mind me asking.”
You swore you could hear a hairpin drop right when you felt the moment stop. It was as if someone had sucked all the air out of the room and replaced it with tension. Your eyes shot to Wednesday, who was previously typing on her typewriter but stopped when Enid asked the question. You quietly cleared your throat before speaking, “I, uh… it was my fault. I did something stupid without asking for permission, and I paid the consequences. That’s all.”
Wednesday felt her heart shatter into a million pieces when she heard you blame yourself for what happened. She wanted to run to Enid’s side of the room and tell you that it wasn’t your fault and that she would do anything she could to take it back, to have you back. She felt a single tear run down her cheek as she returned to her novel.
Not believing your story, Enid didn’t say anything else. She knew there was something more to the story, but she didn’t want to pressure you into telling her. “Well, I think it makes you look ten times hotter,” Enid confessed with a sly smile and a wink. She ignored how her hearing picked up on Wednesday’s heartbeat increased with jealousy at the comment.
You slightly chuckled at Enid’s comment before looking at Enid’s own scars that she sometimes tried to cover up. They were out of place on the brightly dressed girl, but it added a hint of toughness and bravery to her look that almost made you laugh. “What about your scars?” You politely asked, but Enid tensed up at your question.
“Oh. I got them from saving Wednesday last year,” she responded quietly as she continued painting your nails. She refused to meet your gaze, and you felt bad for asking about them, but you wanted to know more. “Why do you cover them up then? You shouldn’t be ashamed of your scars; they prove your loyalty to Wednesday.”
A slight grin tugged at Enid’s lips; she had never had anyone, but Wednesday tell her she was brave. “Thank you, Y/N. It’s just,” she paused as she glanced up at you before continuing her work on your hand, “my mother hates them and says I should be ashamed of myself for ruining any chance I have at finding someone.”
“You shouldn’t listen to your mother, Enid. I think those scars are beautiful, and they display your bravery,” you said as you reached up with your hand and gently traced the scar above Enid’s eyebrow. When a small tear fell down Enid’s cheek, you wiped it away and gave her a soft smile, and Enid knew right then that you were the most authentic person she had ever met. No one has ever been this honest with her, and she cherished your friendship.
Enid let a few quiet minutes pass by before she asked you about your first week at Nevermore, and you told her your honest thoughts. You enjoyed the classes but felt that some students cared too much about their social status and that you loved walking in the woods at night, causing the girl to stop painting your left ring finger.
“You do what at night?” Enid questioned harshly as her bright blue eyes stared into your soul.
“I go for midnight strolls by myself. Weems never told me not to.”
Enid scoffed at your words before glaring at Wednesday, who was working on her novel. “Wednesday is actually the reason we can’t walk around at night.”
At the mention of her name, Wednesday straightened her poster and turned around to face you two.
“Do not blame me for the shortcomings of the town sheriff for being unable to keep the people safe from his own son,” the goth girl stated in a threatening manner with an undertone of regret that you picked up on. You noticed the way Wednesday’s eyes seemed to gloss over with anger when she mentioned the sheriff’s son, and you could only assume something happened between them, which caused your heart to stink at the thought.
“I’m not blaming you, Wens. I’m just stating that you and your boy toy did play a part in ruining our time outside at night,” Enid said innocently as she went back to pairing your nails; she didn’t notice how you tensed up, and you're surprised that she didn’t hear your heart break in two. Your heartbroken eyes shoot to Wednesday’s pained ones, and you can practically read the thoughts behind her eyes, ‘I lost myself when I lost you.’
Even though you still had your eyes covered, Wednesday knew what you were thinking, ‘how could you betray me like this?’ You two were children when you last saw each other, but now as almost adults, you knew that all those feelings you felt for each other were more than platonic; it just took you two a lifetime and a half to realize it. As you two stared at each other, you felt all the love you once felt for each other return in an instant; feelings that come back are feelings that never left.
“‘Boy toy?’” You questioned as your eyes refused to leave Wednesday’s. You knew you would only get hurt by asking, but you had to know.
“It was a moment of weakness, Y/N. Nothing more,” Wednesday spoke with emotion for the first time as her voice broke off towards the end. She quickly cleared her throat and excused herself to the balcony with her cello before you had time to respond to her.
When Enid finished up your nails, you two were getting ready to do a face mask when she got a text. “Yes! Ajax just texted me to hang out with him! Is it alright if I leave you here? Or you can go back to your room if you want?” Enid asked as she stood up from her bed; you ignored the name at the top of her screen that read ‘Yoko.’
“I think I’m going to stay here for a while and hang out with Thing but go have fun,” you said with a faint smile as you watched Enid leave. Honestly, you missed Thing almost as much as you missed Wednesday. Anytime Wednesday would be away, and you were over, you would always hang out with Thing, and right now, he was definitely your favorite Addams.
You chatted with Thing over the sound of Wednesday’s cello for nearly twenty minutes as you did his nails and filled him in on what has happened to you in the past seven years. You told him stuff that you would be too afraid to share with Wednesday, not out of trust, but in fear of what she might do to the people that hurt you.
Only when Wednesday’s cello started to pick up and play a heavy melody did you stop talking. You listened to the way the smaller girl seemed to pour all of her emotions into her song, a song that was full of yearning, hurt, and regret. You listened as there was a slight shift in the music that resembled anger and frustration before turning into a declaration of love. And when the song finally ended on a note that sounded like longing, you got up and walked out to the balcony.
“That was a lovely song,” you said as you walked past Wednesday and rested your elbows against the balcony edge.
Wednesday gave you a quiet ‘mhm’ as a response as she set her cello to the side and joined you at the stone railing, making sure to keep five feet between you for homosexual purposes.
The two of you quietly enjoyed the starry night with a crescent moon above you.
“The sky is so beautiful tonight,” you said, gazing at the stars and moon with your sunglasses still on.
“It is,” Wednesday agreed, but she wasn’t looking up at the sky at all.
When you looked down at Wednesday, she was already staring at you with a tiny glint in her eyes. She subconsciously moved closer to you til she was standing a few inches away from you, and she slowly reached her hands up to take your glasses off. You turned to face her, quickly backing away, and put a foot between you two, “the fuck are you doing?”
“Take it off,” Wednesday stated in a dry tone.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because this ‘nerdy girl takes off her glasses and everyone finds out she’s actually really hot’ will not work on you,” you replied with sass in your voice.
“No, it won’t because you are not attractive in the slightest way,” Wednesday retorted while still staring into your soul.
“Thank you, Addams.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“I know,” you said with a smile as you turned and leaned your elbows on the railing once more and continued staring at the stars. “You are my compact companion, after all,” you teased.
Wednesday rolled her eyes at comment; it felt like it was a lifetime again when she would call you that, and now you turned it against her. She had to agree with you, it was an awful nickname.
“All the pretty stars shine for you, my love,” you said after a couple of minutes had passed. “it’s from a song,” you added to clear up any confusion that might have been stirred.
Wednesday looked over at you, but you still had your eyes fixed on the sky, but she noticed how your hand slowly inched toward her own, and she picked up on the double meaning as she placed her palm over the back of your hand. She gave your hand three gentle squeezes before returning inside with her cello.
After that night, you two continued with your rivalry, of course, but something had changed that worried Wednesday. She didn’t know what that change was, but she felt it like a gentle shift in the air before a big storm; she knew something had changed between you two, but she didn’t know what.
On Tuesday of the following week, Nevermore was hosting an archery tournament that lasted all day that you and Wednesday were competing in. As the day dragged out, numerous Nevermore students were booted from the competition, and when it came down to the final two competitors, no one was surprised when they saw you line up next to Wednesday.
“I think I’ve seen this film before,” you said as you grabbed an arrow and notched it before slightly pulling back on the string. The memories of your last archery competition came flooding back as you watched the beautiful girl to the left of you grab an arrow.
“And I didn’t like the ending,” Wednesday finished as she notched her arrow, drew, and let it loose, nailing the target's bullseye. You scoffed at her words before drawing back your arrow and firing, hitting the bullseye a few centimeters away from Wednesday’s.
As the contest continued, you and Wednesday engaged in a back-and-forth display of remarkable archery skills. Each shot was precise, and the competition grew fiercer with every arrow released. The crowd of students that had formed around you two was captivated, witnessing a display of talent that would mold the archery competitions of Nevermore for ages.
As the final round approached, you and Wednesday were neck and neck. The tension was palpable, and the spectators held their breath in anticipation. You looked over your left shoulder at Wednesday as you notched and drew your arrow. The smaller girl’s eyes stared into your covered ones, and you saw the way her eyes danced across your face as if she was trying to place a curse on you.
With a shaky breath, you turned away from Wednesday and looked at your target before you slightly lowered the tip of your bow; it was so unnoticeable that no one picked up on it besides the girl who was soul bound to you.
You let the arrow loose and smiled slightly when you saw it hit the outer ring. Wednesday sent you a slight glance before drawing back on her arrow and letting it fly, nailing it right in the center of the bullseye.
The crowd around them let out a few cheers and applause as Weems got the trophies ready. “I knew you could do it, roomie!” Enid exclaimed as she skipped over to Wednesday and gently shook the girl’s shoulders. Wednesday nodded her head at Enid before she walked onto the makeshift sports pedestal podium for first and second. She stepped onto the stage for first and watched as you stood on the one for second, and you sent her a smile that confirmed everything she needed: you threw the match for her.
When Weems handed you two your trophies, you had a giant smile as people took your picture, while Wednesday bore an uncomfortable expression.
“I appear to be the victor,” Wednesday said as you two walked back to Ophelia Hall together. The sun was just setting, and the light seeped into the hallway, creating a romantic lighting that seemed a bit on the nose for you.
“It appears so,” you replied with a gentle smile as you flipped your trophy around and read the words “2nd place winner” underneath your name.
Wednesday scoffed at your comment before glaring up at your towering figure. “You aren’t going to finish the saying?”
You tapped your pointer finger on your chin, acting as if you were thinking profoundly. “Why would I? You didn’t cheat,” you said honestly and dropped your hand back down to your side.
“No, but you threw the match,” Wednesday said as she approached her door with you a few paces behind her. She wanted nothing more than to bring you inside and cherish you, but she would never stoop to her mother’s way of life.
“If I am capable of such an outlandish thing, I’m sure I would not do that just so you-of all people-could win,” you said with a serious tone but your smile told Wednesday you were joking and it made her cold, black heart ache for something for had felt once and only with you.
Deciding against her better judgment, Wednesday set her trophy on the ground, and before you had time to ask her what she was doing, her left hand gently grabbed your neck and pulled down as she stood on her tippy-toes to place a chaste kiss on your cheek. Your entire body heated up at the contact, and a smile overtook your face. The kiss lasted longer than it should have, as Wednesday’s lips lingered on your cheek as if she was making you a promise that she would one day taste your lips.
“Goodnight, Y/N,” Wednesday said as she picked up her trophy and entered her room, closing the door on your shell-shocked expression. You had butterflies dancing in your stomach as you walked back to your room with a gentle smile on your face and went to sleep with the thought of Wednesday’s lips against your skin. As you drifted off to sleep, Wednesday stayed up all night writing out the way you made her stomach feel like a thousand spiders lived there and the way your hair warmed her black heart. She once vowed to push you away to avoid the pain of losing you, but every waking moment she spent without you had caused her to feel that pain tenfold. Even if she would lose you at the end of your lives, at least she would have had the honor of calling you hers.
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The eerie gothic ballroom was cloaked in darkness, dimly lit by flickering candlelight that cast haunting shadows upon the ancient stone walls. Heavy velvet drapes, tinged with a rich deep crimson, adorned the tall arched windows, adding a sense of mystery and opulence. Gothic-style chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceilings, their twisted metal work resembling gnarled branches, and their candelabras emitting a spectral glow. The air is filled with a subtle scent of incense, adding to the mysterious ambiance of the room as Wednesday prepared to entire the ballroom.
It was the Grimoire Soiree, Nevermore’s official gothic ball, that was hosted at the end of the Fall semester every year. Wednesday was naturally intrigued when she heard of a gothic ball and believed attending one might add a new element to her novel, including murder. Still, now, as she watched her peers walk into the ballroom, she felt out of place. Her heart yearned for the one who wouldn’t be attending.
It had been several months since the archery contest, and you and Wednesday had not talked to each other. Neither of you knew what to say, but you both wanted to say everything. You two continued with your rivalry, but there was a shift in the air when you two competed against each other, like you two were silently rooting for the other, and it gnawed at both of your hearts.
Deciding to face the music and the calling of her heart, Wednesday walked down the stairs and entered the room.
The polished black marble floors, etched with intricate patterns, mirror the gloomy setting as if reflecting the dark secrets concealed within the ballroom's history that enticed Wednesday. Elaborate gargoyles and stone statues of long-forgotten figures stood sentinel in the corners, their solemn expressions lending an air of solemnity to the space. Crimson roses, tinged with black, were carefully arranged in vases throughout the room, their haunting beauty contrasting with the darkness surrounding them.
As the haunting melody of a haunting organ filled the air, the students of Nevermore were clad in elaborate gothic attire and moved with an aura of elegance and enigma. The atmosphere was both haunting and enchanting, transporting the attendees to a realm of forgotten tales and otherworldly delights that overwhelmed Wednesday. Just as she was about to leave, an overly happy voice exclaimed, “Wednesday! You look amazing!”
The smaller girl wore a mesmerizing black gothic ball gown that is a sight of dark enchantment, featuring a flowing skirt that gracefully grazes the ground. Small black accents on the skirt add a touch of intricate detailing, enhancing its allure. The black corset, elegantly laced in the front, complements the gown's bewitching aesthetic and leads to long, puffy sleeves that exude an air of Victorian charm.
A small cutout on the chest, just above the corset, added a daring yet sophisticated touch, leaving a hint of mystery while maintaining an elegant appeal. The gown encapsulated a perfect blend of gothic elegance and captivating allure, making it an ideal choice for Wednesday's hauntingly beautiful ballroom event.
Wednesday turned around, and she noticed that her flamboyant roommate, who usually wore bright, borderline blinding colors, was in a darker-colored ball gown. The ball gown itself was a mesmerizing creation, enveloped in an enchanting dark purple hue that exudes an air of mystery and sophistication. It had a black corset adorned with dark purple accents that added an element of striking contrast, enhancing its captivating allure. Its intricate lacework and velvet accents add an extra layer of elegance. At the same time, its flowing silhouette gracefully captures the essence of gothic charm, something that Wednesday had never seen on Enid before.
The gown caught Wednesday off guard, and she believed that Enid somehow pulled it off, highlighting her piercing blue eyes that would blind anyone. Wednesday might have even given Enid some form of a compliment, but she knew that Enid didn’t need that kind of ego inflation.
“I appreciate your words, Enid. And you,” Wednesday wanted to be nice tonight but struggled with the words, “Do not look ridiculous.”
The werewolf beamed at her roommate's words, and a smile formed from cheek to cheek. “Awww! Thank you, Wens!” Enid said as she turned to walk toward Ajax but then suddenly turned back to Wednesday as if she had forgotten something. “Oh, and your lover was looking for you earlier; she said she has something to tell you.” And with that, Enid disappeared into the crowd of dancing students with Ajax. Wednesday’s cold heart picked up at the mention of you wanting to talk to her and beat rapidly against her chest. Her eyes scanned the room for you as an all too familiar saxophone interrupted the organ.
As if it was magic, Wednesday’s dark eyes immediately found your heterochromia ones in the vast sea of swirling gowns and powdered faces. You were standing on the opposite side of the room, wearing a gothic suit that consisted of a slightly ruffled white shirt, adding a touch of romanticism to the ensemble. Over the shirt, there was a black cavalier vest adorned with mesmerizing purple tapestry, creating a captivating contrast of colors and textures. Completing the look was a sleek black jacket, lending an air of sophistication and dark allure. The suit is further enhanced by a small yet elegant collar chain featuring a black scorpion on both collars, adding a subtle yet distinctive element of gothic charm to the overall attire.
Put on your Bobbi-sox baby
Pull up your old blue jeans
There’s a band playin’ down at the armory
Know’s what rock and roll really means
You two gravitated towards each other at a slow pace before picking up as your hearts quickened with excitement, and soon, you two were standing face to face. “Hi,” you said breathlessly as you got lost in Wednesday’s eyes.
“Hi,” she replied as she looked into your beautiful eyes for the first time in seven years. She had forgotten just how beautiful they were; the green eye seemed to dance with the room's lighting while the gray one gave Wednesday a feeling of comfort, the dark color reminding her of her own material home in New Jersey.
I want to bop with you baby, all night long
I want to bop the night away
I want to make it a night like it used to be
“May I have this dance?” You asked as you slowly started to do ‘The Twist’ from Pulp Fiction. Wednesday smiled and began doing Uma Thurman’s part of the dance as if you two were just six years old again and dancing in Wednesday’s room. You two smiled and joked the entire dance and felt the whole room disappear as the song drew to a close. “Shall we dance again, my fair lady?” You asked when the dance was finished as you stuck out your hand and slightly bowed, just as you did ten years ago.
“You’re exhausting,” Wednesday replied when the room began waltzing to the beautiful melody of ‘Merry-Go-Round of Life,’ but she took your hand. You placed your free hand just underneath her shoulder blade as her spare hand rested upon the shoulder of the arm that was under her shoulder blade. As the music played, Wednesday allowed you to lead the dance and found herself in a trance as she stared into your beautiful eyes that she missed.
“Stop staring into my soul,” you commented as you spun around with Wednesday.
She huffed at your words and playfully stepped on your foot before continuing the dance. “I’m not staring into your soul; I am just admiring your breathtaking eyes,” she confessed honestly while you two continued your fluid movements. “Why did you start covering them again?”
You tensed up at her words but continued with the graceful dance. “The only person who found beauty in them was gone,” you said shyly as you gave Wednesday a tight-lipped smile. The smaller girl frowned at your words; she didn’t know what to say without confessing her undying love for you. So she stayed quiet and let her eyes drift over to the scar on your face and let regret and pain wash over her like waves on the shoreline. “I never meant to hurt you,” Wednesday mumbled out as she let the pain show on her face. You were her best friend, her soulmate, and her home, and even though she didn’t know that it was either you or no one when she was just a child, she now wanted to wrap you in her arms and never let anything or anyone harm you again; even if that meant protecting you from herself.
So, she dropped your hand while dancing and left you out there standing. Crestfallen on the landing as Wednesday left you in the ballroom and disappeared outside.
You snapped out of your disappointed state and were quick on her heels as you followed her outside. “Wednesday, what’s wrong?” You asked as you followed her to a water fountain and watched her sit down on the side.
She was sick to her stomach; she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears as she had an internal battle with her heart and brain. Her brain told Wednesday to run in the opposite direction, never to talk to you again. But her heart was telling her to run toward you, to embrace you with her loving heart that seemed to only beat for you. She felt nauseous as her thoughts bounced around; what if you didn’t feel the same way toward her? The last time you two were friendly with each other was almost eleven years ago when you guys were six. What if by showing you this much softer side of her, you reject her and use her weakness as a spear to her chest? Nearly killing her but leaving her alive just enough to continue living a life of nothingness. Your heart was glass, and she dropped it.
But what if you felt the same? What if your heart only beat for her, and you would rather die than not have been able to call her yours? All the moments you two spent at each other’s throats during competitions as you sent her little glances and silently prayed she would win so that you could see her eyes light up.
“Enid said you had something to say to me, Y/N,” Wednesday finally spoke as her thoughts ran rapidly in her mind. She needed to know what you wanted to say to her; she could not die in peace without knowing.
You stared at the alluring girl who refused to meet your eyes. There were thousands of things you wanted to tell her, but you didn’t know how. “Wednesday, there’s things I wanna say to you, but I’ll just let you live,” you said quietly as Wednesday’s eyes finally met yours. Wednesday dryly laughed at your words as her eyes glossed over with tears. The last time she had cried was because she lost you, and now, she was crying because she had finally found you. All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, was killing her. Wednesday’s hands were shaking from holding back from you. When you said her name, everything just stopped; she didn’t want you like a best friend.
Wednesday’s eyes darted across your face, looking for anything resembling rejection. When she found only love and longing in your ocean eyes, she took in a deep breath and spoke in a broken voice, “I used to look at you and see my best friend, and now I can hardly look at you without picturing our bones resting together in a grave dug for two. I left you in there because I cannot live without knowing if it meant more to you too as well. I would rather die than bear these feelings alone.”
The words that left Wednesday’s lips took you off guard; you had a speech, and now you’re speechless. “What do you mean by that, Wednesday? Are you telling me that you have feelings for me?” You asked with disbelief on your face; you needed to know if she was confessing her love for you, but you weren’t quite sure if that’s what she meant.
“The sun rises and sets with your smile. At least it does for me. You’re the only thing on this planet worth worshipping. In simpler terms: I want you. I’ve always wanted you. It just took me ten years to realize it. I’m your jazz singer, and you’re my cult leader,” Wednesday confessed as she stared into your eyes, already accepting rejection.
“Wednesday, you don’t have to bear those feelings alone,” you stated with a sigh of relief. Wednesday’s eyes smiled for her as she pushed herself off the fountain, and slowly walked toward you. She stopped a few feet in front, giving you space to run away if you desired.
“I once had someone tell me I was destined to be alone, but I would like to be alone with you. If I’m enough - if you want me, if you’ll have me - I’m yours, only yours, Y/N,” Wednesday admitted with a silent prayer.
“Wednesday, I have only wanted you since we were kids. I only wanted you as a best friend then, but now, when I look at you, I only see my other half. I would rather die than not be able to call you mine, even if it’s just for a second.”
Slowly, Wednesday stepped to you until you were close enough to touch, begging you to make the first move she has always been afraid to take. “For the past ten years, I have been trying to form a way to apologize for the way I treated you, but every time I come up with something, I only see you in that hospital bed,” Wednesday admitted.
You gently reached out to Wednesday’s hand and brought it to your cheek. You gave a small kiss on the palm of her hand before moving it to cup your cheek as your free hand wiped away the lone tear that fell down Wednesday’s cheek. “I forgive you, Wednesday. I had forgiven you the moment I moved; I thought I would never see you again,” you whispered with tears in your eyes as you brought your forehead against Wednesday’s.
Wednesday sighed in relief as she brought up her other hand and cupped your cheeks. You pulled back from her, and Wednesday wanted to cry. You placed a kiss on her forehead that felt like a promise, then kissed her nose, silently telling her everything will be alright, another on her cheek that felt like you would wait however long for her, and finally, you kissed her lips with so much love Wednesday almost died. She let a small, choked-up gasp escape her lips before gently kissing you back. For the first time in ten years, you both finally felt at home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A blanket of snow fell upon the Addams’ residence that coated the peaceful house as Morticia Addams shot up in bed. She gasped for breath as her eyes panicky shot around the room.
The action woke Gomez up, and he reached over to the bedside table to turn on the lamp before reaching out to his wife. “Cara mia, what’s wrong?” He asked with worry laced in his voice, but his worry faded when he saw a giant smile plastered on Morticia’s face that accompanied the tears of joy in her eyes.
She wrapped her arms around her husband and pulled him against her, in complete disbelief at the vision she just had of her daughter. She pulled back from the embrace before exclaiming, “Our darling viper has found someone to share her grave with!”
Gomez lit up with excitement at the mention of Wednesday having a lover; words could not express his joy when his daughter finally fell to the Addams Family Curse. “My love, this is dreadful news! I cannot wait to meet them,” he said with a smile on his face.
Morticia laughed at her husband's words before placing a hand on his cheek and stroking it with her thumb. “Don’t worry, Gomez. You have known her since she was a child.”
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AN: if you recognized ‘the sun rises and sets with your smile’ quote, I love you so much 🫶
#wednesday addams#wednesday x reader#wednesday addams x female reader#wednesday addams x reader#jenna ortega#jenna ortega x reader#wednesday#enemies to lovers
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ice skating
skz scenario: going ice skating together for the first time
pairing: bf!skz x gn!reader
warnings: none
BANG CHAN
he'd be an absolute sweetheart if you didn't know how to skate. he'd hold your hand whilst you're skating together and give you tips on how to skate more smoothly so you're not tumbling every 5 seconds. once he sees that you're doing well, he'd let go of your hand and observes if you can manage by yourself. he'd stay close by, ready to catch you, if you were on the verge of slipping. his eyes would light up once he sees that you can do well on your own. your reward from chan would consist of a tight hug and a chaste kiss to your lips.
LEE KNOW
i’d like to think that minho is decent at ice skating. he’d attempt to teach you the basics on how to ice skate. emphasis on attempt. he would try to skate alongside you but make the mistake of slipping every now and then. he would purposely drag you down with him, although he’d cushion your landing, as he didn’t want to be the only one falling over. if you could balance and skate for a few seconds, he’d praise you. if you fell, the first thing he’d do is laugh then he would help you up. he’d probably take a picture of you on the floor and put it as his lock screen to reminisce about it later on. if the landing was harsh though, he’d check up on you instantly and make sure you’re not injured.
CHANGBIN
changbin is just happy to be there even though he doesn't know how to ice skate. he had initially planned to watch you from the sidelines but you persuaded him to join you on the rink. this man would be clinging onto you for dear life since he didn't want to fall and make a fool of himself in front you. his arms are fully engulfing you, he's not even skating anymore, you're just carrying him around the rink. swears he's never going to ice skate ever again (but he would still do it for you.)
HYUNJIN
since both of you are good at ice skating, you two would try to make it into a competition. objective: skate around the rink the quickest. whoever loses, has to pay for the meal after. since hyunjin doesn’t really mind paying, he would try to purposely lose. but, once you catch on, you’d slow down and move about even slower than he does as you also don’t mind paying. now, it turned into who could skate more slower. you’re both complaining to each other to move faster, but not doing anything about it. once you’re both tired of this back and forth, you collectively agree to skate around the rink together, holding hands. hyunjin and you decided to settle who pays for the meal with a classic game of rock, paper, scissors. turns pouty once he realises you’d be paying, but doesn’t argue about the decision.
HAN
going ice skating with han is like a recipe for disaster. he swears he’s an expert at it, BUT as soon as he gets on the rink, he’ll slip right then and there. both of you will be tumbling down together A LOT. literally as soon as you try to get up, han would accidentally knock you back down because he lost his balance. overall, the session would be filled with laughter and you guys arguing about who the better ice skater is (even though you’re both equally bad.)
FELIX
he'd say he's bad but would be pulling up all types of tricks once he's on that rink. you swear you've never seen anything as beautiful as your boyfriend in that moment. the way he manoeuvred around the rink with grace would forever be engraved in your mind. he'd be your personal guide on how to ice skate. he's holding your hands whilst skating with you. he doesn't even need to look behind him to see if he's going to bump into someone. he'd be all giggly when you nearly fall over onto him and he'd kiss your forehead, telling you it's okay before helping you again.
SEUNGMIN
he’s out here catching all your worst moments on the rink, ready to make fun of you for them later. karma got him though. you were trying to take a video of the view of the rink, when you accidentally recorded him tripping over a kid which caused him to land on his butt. as soon as he spotted the camera, his cheeks turned red. he’d be rushing over to you and smothering your face in kisses with a smile on his face, bribing you to delete that video of him. but you knew better than to do that. it was a cute little video of him and you were planning on treasuring it.
JEONGIN
jeongin had always wanted to go ice skating with you. so, when you surprised him for a date by taking him to an ice skating rink, he was over the moon. he’d kiss you the second he realised where he was. he was so smiley the entire time. his excitement was contagious. he’d drag you around the entire rink and gush over how much he loves you for this. your heart swells with love at his enthusiasm. a literal necessity to take pictures of him here for him to post on social media. and a few candid photos of him to keep for yourself.
©daaawnnn
reblogs are appreciated!
#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#han jisung x reader#felix x reader#seungmin x reader#jeongin x reader#bangchan x reader#minho x reader#skz fluff#skz x reader#skz scenarios#stray kids fluff#skz imagines#stray kids#skz#stray kids x reader#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines
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Ditz ,
authors note : miss me?
Warning !! : reader is female, reader is feminine, swearing, talks of sex, vulgar language used, hint of flirting between reader and dina, TINY mention of reader flirting with a teacher, possessive Ellie, oral fixation, face slapping (once), thigh riding, pantie stealing, eating out, fingering, nickname usage: sugar, pretty, babygirl (in a mocking manner), doll, sweet girl, angel, baby, sweetheart, ect.
You were sat in class, positioned in the front corner along with your best friend, Dina. It was only 9 in the morning and you were already complaining to her about the poor taste you had in men and now women when it came to sleeping around.
“And I thought that a woman would be different! Like men are sooooo fucking stupid, none of them even know where the clit is Dina! Like, are you kidding me? How do you miss it?! One motherfucker starting rubbing my left lip thinking he was an expert!! He was all up in my ear like-“
You leant across the table to whisper in her ear, trying to suppress your giggles and ignoring the fact that your skirt rode a little too high due to its ridiculously short length. You whispered in her ear in a poorly attempted gruff voice and said,
“- That feel good babygirl?”
Dina burst out laughing, slamming her hands against the table in disbelieve,
“Shut the fuck up, oh my god!”
You sat back down and giggled with her before rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest, which led to your breasts almost falling out of your low cut top.
“And all i’m gonna say is, whoever said ‘big feet equals a big dick’ is a fucking liar!”
Dina let out a loud cackle, causing some of the other students to jump. You giggled once more, before slipping down further into your seat with a frown.
“But I really thought a woman would be different D!! I’m so disappointed”
You pouted and reached over the table to play with the loose strands of her hair that fell out her bun. Dina hummed and spoke,
“Awh sugar, I’m sure you’ll find someone who’s perfect at fucking you”
You both laugh and she lands a kiss on the wrist that hovered over her face, which caused you to give her a soft smile.
Just after, the teacher and the rest of the class came through into the classroom and made their way to their seats. Dina and you both pulled away from each other and pulled out your textbooks.
You sent a wink to the teacher as soon as she made eye contact with you, which caused her to pause momentarily. This made Dina and you to both giggle. Dina then lent over to you and whispered in your ear,
“She sooooo wants to get in your panties”
You snort and roll your eyes, gently shoving her away from you.
The lesson went by too slow for your liking, nothing that was being taught peaked your interest. This was also evident in your grades. You were failing miserably, yet you didn’t care, you didn’t even try to pass.
You turned your focus from the board to look behind you, taking in everyone’s faces and humming a tune quietly to yourself. Then you met eyes with her.
Ellie fucking Williams, the most gorgeous woman you have ever seen in your life. You would more than happily give up your whole life just to sleep with her.
Yet, it seemed as if she couldn’t care less about you. You would often give her a sweet smile if you saw each other in the halls, or you would be polite and say hi to her if you bumped into each other in public, and that was fairly often due to you both staying in campus in the small town it was located in. Yet she would never give something nice back in return. She would always scoff at you, roll her eyes or look at you like you just smeared shit all over her. Saying it upset you was an understatement, your face would always drop, and in most cases, your eyes would even well with tears. You couldn’t understand why she was so mean.
You gave her a soft smile when you both met eyes, yet all she did was turn her attention back to the teacher. This caused a pout to form on your lips and your posture slumped.
Dina noticed and patted your thigh,
“Don’t waste your time on her pretty, it’s not worth it”
You sigh and rest your head on her shoulder, watching as she drew soft circles on your thigh with her finger,
“She’s just so perfect D, ‘s not fair”
She hums and sighs, kissing the top of your head. Moments after, the bell had rung and students immediately jumped up from their seats and began to pack up, this included Dina and you.
As you placed your book into your bag, the teacher made her way over to your desk and stood in front of you. You looked up at her and she looked down at you with a stern expression.
“Your grades are a disgrace Y/N. Starting tonight Ellie Williams will be tutoring you, you’re lucky she volunteered to help or I’m afraid i would’ve had to kick out the class.”
“Ellie asked to help me?”
She frowned slightly at the response she was given, yet nodded her head.
“I asked my top students if they were able to free some time and tutor you. Ellie asked if she could do it as she has plenty of free time. To be quite frank, she shot up at the chance, the others didn’t get a chance to respond.”
You nodded your head and quickly turned to glance at Dina with a wide smile. Dina only giggled and rolled her eyes. You couldn’t believe it.
Yet, the more you thought about it, the more you were confused. If Ellie hated you that much why did she jump to the opportunity of helping you? Was it to humiliate you?
You groaned and shoved your face further into your pillow.
It was an hour before Ellie was coming over to your dorm for your tutoring. You were so excited, yet so scared at the same time. You didn’t know what was going to happen and it worried you, the person who constantly stuck their nose up at you was coming over to your dorm to help you? It made no sense.
You whined and kicked your feet, in the act also kicking stuffies off of the end of your bed. You weren’t ready.
Literally, you weren’t ready.
There was a variety of things scattered across your room from the previous few days, creating a mess. You were still wearing your clothes from earlier, you hadn’t touched up your makeup, and you hadn’t even been bothered to find your school supplies that are well needed in order for you to be taught anything.
You slowly pulled yourself up with a groan and looked around your room, which made you groan even louder at the true state it was in. It didn’t look as messy as this earlier, so why does it look such a mess now?
You stood up and made your way over to your closet, tiptoeing over everything in your way. You began to strip down to your underwear and as you shimmied out of your mini skirt, the door knocked.
A loud gasp fell from your lips youand looked around frantically. Why is she here early ?!
In a panicked trance, you swung open the door and stood in front of Ellie in only your underwear.
She let out a choked scoff, before shoving you back further into your room and made her way in. She quickly shut the door and spun herself around.
“You must be fucking crazy. Do you answer the door to everyone like that?”
You shook your head quick, before realising she couldn’t even see you,
“No!! I just panicked! I was trying to get changed before you-”
She groans and cuts you off,
“Just get dressed, I don’t need to hear a whole story about it”
You huff and pout at her attitude. It made you think that she truly did ask to help you just to humiliate you.
You threw on an oversized hoodie that you had picked up from the floor and whilst you did so, Ellie took the time to look around your dorm room, taking in the complete mess and the immense amount of pink, which caused her to scoff.
You turned to look at her once you were decent, and watched as she mentally picked apart your room. It made you feel small, although she didn’t say anything, the look on her face was more than enough. She sighed and then turned to you,
“Do you even have what you need? Your guide? note book?”
You slowly shook your head and rushed forward to your desk, reaching into your draws to pull out various books.
Ellie stood behind you, staring straight ahead at the clear view she had of your ass and more. She couldn’t take her eyes off, she was mesmerised. She knew she shouldn’t stare, but maybe it was the way that your pastel blue thong perfectly outlined your cunt, or maybe it was the perfect amount of fat on your ass. As you stood up straight, she quickly turned to look at something else, her eyes landing on panties that were left discarded on the floor, which caused her to tug her bottom lip under her teeth.
You threw your books onto your bed and sat down, looking up at Ellie. You spoke in a small voice,
“You can sit”
She nods and sits on your bed facing you, she sits on top of your stuffies and you had to hold back the urge not to yank her off of them. She saw your face twist the moment she sat and she frowned,
“What?”
“Nothing nothing. It’s just that… you’re sat on my stuffies”
She rolled her eyes and pulled her glasses out from her pocket. She put them on and adjusted them so they rested comfortably on her nose. After, she opened the books that sat infront of her, scanning your notes that were kept to an extreme minimal, she could tell you didn’t care just through how scruffy some of your notes were.
You played with your sleeves and watched her as she flicked through the book with a disapproving scowl.
“Your notes are shit Y/N, how do you even understand them?”
She glanced up at you over her glasses and you began to gnaw at your bottom lip.
“Um… I don’t?”
She looked back down to your book in silence and began to make edits to your notes. You watched as she wrote in your book and drew arrows to certain words, in hopes to make it more understandable for you.
“Ellie I can’t even see”
“Shut up”
You grumbled and sent her a glare that she didn’t even acknowledge. You crossed your arms over your chest and continued to watch her make notes.
You kept silent for a few moments, before deciding to speak once more,
“Aren’t you meant to be teaching me? Yknow, with words?”
“Y/N, can you shut up?”
You rolled your eyes and layed back against your headboard, not even bothering to tug your hoodie down to cover yourself.
“Sit up”
She spoke to you without even looking up from the book, she continued to write and in all honesty, it pissed you off.
Why is she sitting there and acting like she has been forced into tutoring you? It seriously made no sense to you.
“Why should I if I can’t even see? And if you won’t even teach me anything?”
That’s what caused her to look up. Her eyes were met with your cunt, before she quickly averted her gaze up to your face. She glared at you before grabbing your legs and pulling you towards her. Your hoodie road up past your waist, and she acted like she couldn’t care less. In reality, her heart was pounding. She then lifted you up by your waist and effortlessly positioned you on her lap.
“Better now?”
You nodded your head and went silent, your face was beet red and you were trying to get grasps of what just happened. Ellie acted like it was nothing and she continued making notes in your book. In order for her to see, she placed the book in your lap, her arms around your waist and she rested her chin against your shoulder.
You read through the notes she had made and somehow, you understood it all. Your eyes shifted from the notes to her hands. she had rough hands, and it was clear she often bit her nails due to how scuffed they were.
Her slender fingers were decorated in chunky rings that wrapped just perfectly around her digits. You traced over every vein with your eyes and your mouth fell agape at just how mesmerising they truly were.
“Y/N, are you listening?”
You quickly snapped out of your trance and nodded your head.
“Alright then, what did I just say?”
“Uhm… C equals two?”
She groans loud, directly into your ear, before lifting her hand from the notebook to flick your forehead.
“No.”
“Ow, Ellie!”
You whine and massage the area she had flicked.
“Y equals two. You divide Y by X, which gives you zero point zero two, and then you would divide that by C, which would give you the answer of two. Meaning, your answer would be 100, as C would equal 100. Understand?”
You let out a fake cry, dropping your head into your hands.
“I give up. I hate this and it is way too difficult!”
“Y/N, this is basic maths. It’s not hard to understand. If you hate it, what was the point in choosing it as a course?”
“Because Dina wanted to do math! And I just followed her because I didn’t want to do a course with strangers in!”
“Have you ever heard of making friends? Or does your small ass brain not understand what that is either.”
You span around on her lap, kicking her in her ribs in the process, to scowl at her.
“I do understand what that is, thank you very much smart ass. Every time I try to make friends with someone new, they just think I want to get into their pants!”
“Well i’m not surprised, have you even acknowledged how you talk to everyone? Let’s use me as an example. You bat your eyelashes at me with each word that comes out of your mouth, you will stare at me with eyes wide as fuck, you’re constantly trying to touch me, not to mention you following me around like a lost lamb all because you want to say hi. You bite your lip whenever I mutter a word, and you prantz around the whole college wearing skimpy little outfits. Of course everyone thinks that you want to fuck them.”
Your face scrunched up more and more with each word she said,
“That is not true.”
“Yes it is Y/N. You even do it to the teacher, the whole class could say the exact same, it’s so fucking evident.”
“Are you done obliterating me? Or do you want to continue?”
she scoffs directly into your face and crosses her arms over her chest,
“Obliterating you? You really are stupid. I am not doing such thing, I am just stating the obvious doll”
Heat rose to your cheeks, either from embarrassment, or from what she had just called you, maybe it was from both.
Ellie ran a hand through her hair, a puff of air falling from her lips. Her eyes scanned your figure up and down before she spoke once more,
“You really get on my nerves, you know that?”
“If i am reallyyyyy on your nerves, then why did you volunteer to help me? Matter of fact, why did you jump to the opportunity, not even giving anyone else the chance to volunteer, huh?”
“Watch your fucking tone when you’re talking to me.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. Answer the question, Ellie.”
She grabbed your face, smushing your cheeks in between her fingers and thumb, as she pulled you closer. Her face was inches away from yours, she could feel her hot breath fanning against your face.
“I said, watch your fucking tone when talking to me.”
Your whole body felt like it was on fire. Your face was beyond red and you could feel beads of sweat beginning to build on the back of your neck.
Ellie was pissed off, and it was clearly obvious. You didn’t dare speak up, let alone move. You didn’t want to piss her off even more, if anything, you wished she would leave so you could hide away in your room and never step foot outside these four walls ever again, to slowly wallow away in your own embarrassment.
The both of you were frozen in the same position for what felt like hours, with one of her hands squeezing your face together, and the other that had wrapped around your waist without you realising. She was staring directly into your eyes, and you stared right back into hers.
After some time, she had let go of your face, and leant back against your headboard. Both of her hands were now holding your waist, her eyes still glued to yours. She licked her lips and hummed, eyeing you up and down once again, before she spoke,
“You want me to tell you why I volunteered to tutor you?”
You nodded your head, not finding the courage to speak up.
“You drive me fucking crazy Y/N, like beyond fucking crazy. The way you talk to everyone makes me feel insane, because you should only be talking to me like that. You shouldn’t be batting your eyelashes at anyone but me, you shouldn’t be chasing anyone else around but me.”
You frowned at what had just came out her mouth. You thought that she hated you, You thought that she couldn’t stand being anywhere near you.
She continued to speak, despite the clear confusion displayed on your face.
“I want you all to myself. I don’t want you near any man, or any other woman, especially if they don’t know you to treat and please you. Even seeing you flirt with Dina during class is too much. Only I can please you Y/N, everyone else is fucked for not knowing how to treat such a perfect girl like you.”
“Ellie… I don’t understand. You seem so disgusted every time i’m near you. Please don’t be playing a prank on me, it’s not funny.”
She sighs and strokes your hair, curling it around her index and middle finger. You had to fight everything back not to lean into her hand.
“I’m not pranking you sweet girl, I may be mean but I am not that mean.”
You went to speak but before any sound could pass your lips, she cut you off.
“Before you had slept with Riley, I thought you were only interested in men. So, I tried to stay as far from you as I could to stop myself from becoming more and more infatuated with you. I was, and still am, totally fucking obsessed with you. I would ignore you and brush you off because each time you would latch onto my arm, or try to talk to me, I would become so frustrated with the thought that only a man could have the absolute pleasure of dating you, Y/N. I wasn’t mad at you, I was mad at the missed opportunity. Although, as soon as Riley had told me she had slept with you, I knew that I had a chance. It felt like fate when on the same day, our teacher had asked if anyone could tutor you, so of course I had jump to the opportunity baby”
You nodded your head slowly, trying to get a grasp of everything she had just told you, before scrunching up your face once more.
She groans at your reaction,
“You’re such a fucking ditz.”
“Ellie shut up”
She chuckles and pulls you forward, so your body is flush against her chest. She looks down at you, and traces her thumb across your bottom lip.
Without thinking, you had wrapped your lips around the tip of her thumb and slowly swiped your tongue across it. Ellie groaned at the sight and had bucked her hips up, the cold, metal button on her jeans bumping into your clothed clit.
You let out a whine at the sensation, which had caused Ellie to smirk.
She pushed her thumb further into your mouth, until your lips were wrapped around the base. She admired you for some time, watching your face intently, before she pulled her phone from her back pocket and snapped a picture you.
You looked at her with eyes wide, in disbelief. All she did was laugh at your reaction. She then shifted and positioned you on her thigh, still keeping her thumb in your mouth.
“Cmon princess, ride it”
“W-what?”
“You heard me loud and clear. I know you can do it baby”
You nodded your head, looking down at her thigh, unable to maintain eye contact. However, Ellie didn’t like that, as soon as you averted your gaze, she pulled her thumb from your mouth and placed a firm slap on your cheek, which pulled a loud yelp from your lips.
“Eyes on me Y/N. Where’s all that confidence gone, hm?”
She spoke as she caressed your cheek, eyeing the red splotchy mark that began to form.
Ellie hummed as you looked back into her eyes. You slowly began to rock your hips back and forth against her thigh, biting down on your bottom lip.
“That’s my good girl”
You blushed at her words, and continued to grind your hips into her. Ellie’s hands had found their way back to your hips, and she pushed you down further into the strong muscle in between your thighs. The feeling of her rough jeans against your sensitive clit felt like bliss.
Quickly, with the added force from Ellie, moans and breathy whines fell from your lips.
Ellie felt like she was in heaven. Listening to the sounds that came from you, and watching you pathetically grind against her felt unreal. She kept thinking about how bizarre it was that she was now in this position, but god, she was not going to complain, not even once.
“Ellieeeee, ‘s not enoughhh”
She frowns, and holds you still with a firm grasp on your hips,
“Not enough?”
You lent forward, until your face was milimetres away from hers, and you shook your head. You spoke to her, sounding breathless,
“Need more…”
You glanced down at her lips, before looking back into her eyes. Ellie chuckled and licked her lips,
“What a greedy girl”
You hummed and pressed your lips against hers. A small kiss very quickly turned into a heavy make-out session. You wrapped your hands behind her neck, and pulled her closer to you, smashing your lips into hers. Your eyes were squeezed shut, and you shoved your tongue into her mouth.
Ellie’s fingers dug into your hips, so much so that when she moved her hands behind to your ass, there were nail marks shaped as crescent moons left littered in your hips. She started to grind you into her thigh once more, whilst keeping up with the sloppy make-out.
Ellie groaned into the kiss as she felt it growing more and more sloppy. There was drool forming in the corners of your mouth, that slowly started to drip down your chin, and you began to pant into the kiss.
Ellie’s hand slivered from your ass, to your clothed cunt. She started to rub slow circles against your clit through your panties, which caused you to whimper and bite down on her bottom lip, making Ellie hiss.
You pulled away from the kiss, and you looked like a wreck. There was drool all down your chin, your lips were swollen, and there was tears brimming your eyes. Your eyebrows were scrunched together, and your eyes were half lidded.
“Please go faster els, pretty pleaseee”
She stopped rubbing circles against your clit and cocked her head to the side,
“What if I don’t want to, hm? Then what princess?”
You let out a cry and looked at her with the best pleading look you could give,
“I said please though Ellie”
She laughs directly into your face, which caused you to huff. You slapped her chest and turned your head away,
“You’re mean.”
“I agree doll”
“Good, you should”
In an instant, Ellie had shoved you down onto the bed, and she was now hovering over you,
“Yeah? I should?”
You looked up her and nodded your head. She smirked at you, and brushed away the stray hairs that were sticking to your forehead.
“You’re so beautiful”
You smiled at the compliment, whilst pulling her pelvis into yours with your thighs. You tangled your fingers in her hair and tugged her closer, so your face was once again millimetres away from hers.
“You’re so perfect els”
She pecks your lips and hums,
“Yeah baby? You think so?”
“I know so”
Ellie chuckles, before prying your thighs off her hips. She shuffles her way down the bed, and stops just as her face aligns with your clothed cunt.
The feeling of her hot breath hitting your clit made you shudder and close your thighs around her head. She laughs and pushes your hoodie upto your waist,
“Oh sweetheart, i’ve not even started yet and you’re already acting like this?”
You fake a cry and grab a fistful of the bedsheets,
“Please Ellie”
Ellie places a kiss onto your clothed clit, before she pulls down your panties. unbeknownst to you, she had shoved the pair of panties into her back pocket. Ellie then placed another kiss onto your clit, which ripped a whine from your throat.
Ellie wasted no time, her head drove straight into your cunt and she started to lap up your clit, sucking and licking it like it was her last meal. Your head fell back, and a string of curses fell from your mouth.
“Fuck, Ellie!”
She hums and trails her tongue down further, before she began to bully her tongue into your cunt. She was sloppy with it, her movements were fast yet uneven. Not that she cared, she knew you were enjoying it, It was quite obvious.
Your legs were already twitching, you kept lifting your hips into her face, there was not a second where you were quiet, either you were moaning, or you were cursing.
Ellie’s chin was dripping with a mix of your juices, and her saliva. She felt as if she could eat you out for the rest of her life, and she would never get bored, not even for a second.
Your thighs tightened around her head, and you kept clenching around Ellie’s tongue.
Ellie couldn’t believe you were going to cum this early, she’s only just started. Just as your moans grew louder, Ellie pulled away.
“W-what the fuck Ellie!”
You lifted your head to look at her, with a frown painted across your face. She looked at you with a smile, before she licked her lips.
“You taste so good baby”
You huff and throw your head back onto the bed. Did she think you already came? Was that it?
Ellie could tell you were deep in thought, And by the pout on your lips, and your glassy eyes, she could tell it wasn’t good.
“Oh, you think i’m done?”
She cocks one of her eyebrows up, and stares at you, waiting for a response.
“Well it looks like it.”
She rolls her eyes and slaps your cunt, making you yelp and arch your back.
“Ow!!”
“Don’t think so low of me again.”
Ellie’s tongue dove straight back into your cunt, whilst she toyed with your clit using her thumb.
In an instant, moans and chants of Ellie’s name fell from your mouth once again.
You needed Ellie closer, if that was even possible. So, you placed your legs over her shoulders, and pulled her closer by a fistful of her hair.
Ellie let out a loud groan at the stinging sensation running through her scalp, that had vibrated against your cunt. You were a lot stronger than she had thought.
Ellie latched her lips around your clit once more, and without a warning she shoved two fingers into your cunt. She nipped at your clit with her teeth, and with a fast pace she plunged her fingers in and out of your hole.
You were even messier than before. Tears were streaming down your face, your mascara clumping underneath your eyes. Drool was spilling from the corner of your mouth, once again. Your forehead was dripping with sweat. Your back was arched, and your knuckles were turning white from how tight you were pulling on Ellie’s hair.
You had never felt this good. Never with anyone before, You couldn’t even make yourself feel this good. You were that blissed out you thought you were about to pass out.
“E-Ellie I need to cum!”
Instead of answering, Ellie continued to bully your cunt and clit with her fingers and tongue.
You could hear her slurping up the juices that kept spilling from your cunt, and the sound of her fingers pulling in and out.
Then, with a curl of her fingers that brushed against that one spongey spot, you had came all over Ellie’s face with a squeal.
Ellie’s pace began to slow once you rode out your high. She had then pulled away from your cunt, and looked up at your wrecked state.
You were panting heavily, your eyes were shut and your legs continued to twitch.
Ellie pulled her phone from her pocket, and snapped another picture of you. Before she leant down and kissed your forehead.
“Good girl baby, you did so well. Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”
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Penny for your thoughts
Synopsis: You’ve recently been transferred to a UK base and struggle with British currency. Your lieutenant is mortified—and rightfully so.
Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader
Word Count: 1,286 (approx. 5-6 mins reading time)
Notes:
I thought it was funny when I wrote it, okay? It’s a crackfic. There’s some teasing and playful banter in there, but I can’t label it as fluff.
Warnings: Profanity. Lots of it.
More A/N at the end.
———————————————————————
You’ve been trying to escape the lieutenant’s grip for the past two hours.
The upcoming mission requires close combat skills, he said. You’ll need to infiltrate a facility with minimum weapons and immobilise—but not kill—the targets for interrogation.
You admitted to him that you hadn’t practised in a long time and your combat skills were a little rusty. But Ghost assured you this wouldn’t be a problem and offered a refresher course in ground fighting and submission techniques.
You never imagined this would be an issue when you agreed to it. On the contrary, your lieutenant was an expert in combat, and training with him could be considered a masterclass.
Looking at it now, with your cheek pressed against the floor and your body twisted like a nautical knot, you wish you could take it back.
The mats have become your second skin. Ghost relentlessly pins you to the ground and immobilises your limbs while explaining the mechanics behind each hold. Sometimes you wonder why he gets into so much detail since you can’t hear shit and are practically knocked out.
Yet, he doesn’t give up on you. He advises you to feel the weight shift, urging you to exploit the slightest openings, encouraging you to break free. Whenever he sees you’re struggling or senses you’re uncertain, he taps your hand or leg, giving you clues to help you.
He immobilises you once more, but he pats your back this time.
“Alright,” he says, standing up, “that’s enough for today.”
He walks to the bench, picks up his towel, and pats his neck. You roll on your back and spread your arms.
“I feel like a pretzel.” You whisper.
“Yup,” he confirms, “that’s Jiu-Jitsu for ya.”
Drenched in sweat, you push yourself off the ground and slowly walk to your bag. You extract your towel and begin rummaging through your wallet to find spare coins for a water bottle. You manage to find one pound, but unfortunately, you fall short.
“Lt.?” You call out.
He turns halfway to give you his attention while tugging the velcro straps from his gloves.
“Do you have fifty pennises?”
He stops midway and lets go of the velcro strap. It can wait. His eyes have formed two thin lines, and his eyebrows almost touch each other.
“Do I have fifty what, soldier?”
“I need fifty pennises.” You reply, this time louder, “Do you have fifty pennises?”
His eyes have changed. They’re not squinting anymore. They are bulging. He frantically looks left and right, bringing his index finger to his mouth.
“Shhhh!” He whispers and runs towards you, waving his other hand in front of your face. “Shut your mouth!”
He closes the distance between you and looks behind him.
“What is wrong with you?” He whispers.
You raise your eyebrows and blink rapidly.
“No,” you reply, “what is wrong with you?”
He lets out a sigh and looks at his surroundings once again. He scratches the side of his chin and clasps his hands in prayer.
“Tell me exactly what you want,” he requests more calmly this time, almost begging you, “Make a sentence out of it.”
“I’m thirsty.” You explain.
“Obviously.”
He’s starting to get on your nerves. You open your palm and raise it to his eye level.
“Look,” you order and point at the coin, “I have one pound.”
“I can see that.” He replies and puts his hand on yours, pushing it down so he can look at you.
“The vending machine needs one pound and a half.”
“Say it.” He commands and swallows hard, “The vending machine needs one pound and fifty...”
You clench your jaw and look at him dead in the eyes.
“Pennises.”
He lets out a snort and clasps his hand at the bridge of his nose. He turns his back to you and takes a few steps away. His shoulders move up and down.
“Ah, soldier,” he replies, still looking the other way. “that’s a lot of pennises.”
You run a hand through your hair and sigh.
“I know my pronunciation is probably wrong,” you state and shut your eyes, “but I need them.”
“Don’t say that,” he says between gasps, “you don’t need that many.”
With your eyes still closed, you start babbling about how wrong he is and how you wish you had a million of them so you could escape this hellhole and retire on an island. He squats to the ground and covers his masked face with his hands.
He sounds like he’s whimpering. You might have assumed he was sobbing if you hadn’t known the cause of his stance. But you knew why he was half crying, half laughing. It sounded hideous. It was hideous. You just can’t remember the word.
What’s it called, what’s it called...
You open your eyes. Ghost is walking towards you, wiping away tears from his eyes. He retrieves a fist of coins from his pocket and, muttering something under his breath, chooses two. He pinches a silver hexagonal-shaped coin with his fingers and shows it to you.
“This,” he says, “is fifty pence, or 50p.”
“Pence or p.” You repeat.
“That’s right.” He confirms and pinches a smaller coin with his other hand. “Now, this little one is a penny. Fifty of these are called fifty pennies.”
“Pennies,” you echo and slap your thighs, “See? Was it that hard to explain?”
“Oh yes,” he replies and nods slowly, “yes, it was that fucking hard.”
You lift your palm. “Can I have the big one?” You ask.
“Say it first.” He commands you.
You roll your eyes. “Can I have the 50p, Lt.?”
“Of course, you may have the 50p.” He says and places the coin in your hand, “What you absolutely may not have is fifty….” He stops and lets a repressed chuckle out.
You press your lips together and bite your cheek to not respond to his teasing. But you can’t.
“…pennises, I presume?” You sneer.
“Yeah, no.” He says and vigorously shakes his head, “You don’t want that.”
You wince and rub the back of your neck. Ghost tries to comfort you, telling you it’s ok and you shouldn’t feel bad, but he doesn’t believe it himself. He’s smiling beneath that mask; you can tell by how the grimace alters his voice. You thank him for the coin and walk to the vending machine.
“Soldier,” he calls out, “how many times have you said that word since you came to the UK?”
You tilt your head and try to recall.
“I can’t remember.” You conclude.
“You can’t remember if you ever said it, or there were so many occasions that you can’t count them?” He asks with a trembling voice.
“No, Lt.,” you reply, defeated, “I don’t remember asking another person for that.”
He looks relieved. He lets out a long exhale and rubs his masked face with his palms.
“I never thought I’d ever say this,” he says, “but I’m glad I was the first one.”
———————————————————————
A/N: I wrote this in March, along with this story (yes, they’re very similar). Although I liked the idea and thought it was funny, I initially discarded it because it felt stupid, and chose to post the other one (not like the other one is pure genius). It remains as such, but as I said, it’s a crackfic. I’m not researching how to improve human welfare.
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x gn!reader#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley fic#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#simon riley#call of duty#modern warfare 2#cod mwii#ghost cod#ghost cod mw2#cod ghost#ghost cod mwii#ghost call of duty
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