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praeluxius · 4 months

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coup de théâtre - IVE Jang Wonyoung (Ft. An Yujin, Naoi Rei, Kim Gaeul)

Part 2 of folie à deux.

IVE Jang Wonyoung x Male reader smut.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Masterlist word count: 11,849

coup de théâtre - a sudden and surprising event

"You're just not getting it." Wonyoung stresses as her hands settle on Rei's hips. "If we get too close here, it's going to ruin everything."

"So you don't want me right here?" Rei's shoulders slouch and she pouts in confusion.

"Watch. Yujin, you know what you’re doing." Wonyoung signals the other girl over. "Gaeul, ready?"

She gives a confident nod and readies her posture.

"Alright, music, cue.” That is your signal. See, that's the only reason you're here. Wonyoung insisted you help them out during their dance practice. With the speaker at your feet, you slouch against the mirrored back wall. You can see yourself, shorts and tee loosely hung from your body, in the mirror across the room. Between you and it, the four girls are ready to spring to life. They swear they'll make it big, maybe they will, but they're not there yet.

You hit play on your phone. “Five, six, seven, eight,” and three of the girls dance. Wonyoung watches as the girls inevitably get in each other's way. Rei goes to cross between Gaeul and Yujin and the gap is so small that she almost takes a fist to the face. The mistake brings them to a halt.

"See? We need better spacing." Wonyoung demands the point again and stands between the three, explaining how things will have to line up. The four of them flail arms, pointing at their feet, imitating footwork and readjusting as needed.

You'd argue she isn't even the best dancer among them, not that there's much disparity between them. But she's the one who insists they have to be critical or they will never get better. The girls take this school dance club more seriously than anything else in this place. They start from the top again with another countdown and another play from you. It doesn't take long for everyone to get back into the motion. Gaeul turns, Yujin shifts, and Rei steps. This time it all goes buttery smooth.

Hips sway and asses shake. Bodies glimmer with sweat under the studio lights. All their slender figures move with equal parts energy and sensuality. The original choreographer wouldn’t say it, but to say it's seductive wouldn't be wholly incorrect. From the powerful steps to the flowing graceful movements, the whole thing is a pleasure to watch. Every little flourish is alluring and equally mesmerising.

This continues, round and round, over and over and over. Slowly, they iron the kinks. Work out the errors. Find the minor adjustments. All until they're dancing with all the confidence they need to own the stage when the time comes.

The sweat on their bodies soaks in to the tops of their practice outfits. Each movement has their loose strands of hair cling to their faces, necks, shoulders. They're drenched, exhausted, but they keep pushing through the final attempt. The music fades out; they finish. Rei throws herself on the floor. Laying, legs extended and arms resting beside her, she stares at the ceiling for a while with a soft groan.

The other three head toward you (more accurately; their drinks). You lift yourself up onto the bench, taking a seat at the end and handing the bottles to the girls. Wonyoung sits right beside you and leans back against the wall mirror.

“Good job. That looked great."

"Yeah." Wonyoung barely manages that as her heavy, laboured breath requires most of her focus. She grasps her bottle with trembling fingers.

"That was good," Gaeul confirms as she takes a seat next to Wonyoung.

After handing a bottle to Rei, Yujin stands right in front of you. Drink in one hand and the other resting on her hip, at the waistband of her skin-tight leggings. "What about me? Did I look good? I think I nailed it." Yujin breathes as the words escape her lips. Her heavy lashes lower and gaze at you. A bright smile spread across her pink-tinged, sweat-slicked cheeks.

You reply honestly. "Yeah, you did. Perfect."

Rei lets out a couple of forced coughs to mockingly comment between them; get a room.

Wonyoung snickers at Rei's joke. Her breathing steady and her gaze on Yujin. "Looks like she wants to, don't you, Yujin?"

"You think?" Rei chimes in again.

“I think so," Wonyoung chuckles and swipes a strand of her hair behind her ear. "The changing room is free, but I can't promise I won't walk in."

It's like she insists on making it as awkward as possible. But there's no way she can know about you and Yujin. No. That's impossible. This must just be a coincidence—a light-hearted tease.

"So when's next practice?" Gaeul interrupts, saving you both your blushes. "I can't do any weekend practices, I'm going on a trip."

"Oh right, the fiancé," Wonyoung begins, and you brace yourself, because you know the kinds of things she usually says here. "why him? Isn't he kind of… beneath you?"

Wonyoung is every bit as blunt and harsh as usual. There's no ambiguity there—no double-meaning or clever innuendo. It's a comment born out of her own distorted view that everyone is beneath her.

Yujin turns round, glaring with her brows raised and silently mouths the words: 'are you serious?'

"I like him," Gaeul answers simply. You'd never met her fiancé but if there's one thing you'd learned about Gaeul in your limited interactions is that she didn't act on whims. If she said yes, it's because she really likes him.

"It's his huge cock, right?" Wonyoung is as brash as ever and Yujin almost chokes on her sip of water. Rei’s head snaps up, and she's staring from her laying position. You open your mouth to speak, but it’s caught in your throat.

"Maybe," Gaeul cuts through the awkwardness. Everyone pauses. The attention in the room rests on Gaeul, each of them not so subtlely urging her to keep talking. Yujin takes a seat on the ground at your feet, cross-legged, and ready for a story.

Gaeul has one hand scratching at her arm and the other gripping at the bottle in her lap. She hesitates a moment. Maybe she’s busy wondering if she should (or if she dare) say any more. And then she erupts in to a story that pulls no punches. "This one time, me and him got into it pretty heavy and I was deep-throating his—sorry, too graphic?"

There's a collective shake of heads. Even Rei has sat up to listen intently now. Gaeul gives the faintest smile in recognition and she continues.

"So there we were. I'm lying down and deep-throating his cock. I've got him all the way in my throat, and there was still more to go. I just couldn't. As much as I wanted his whole cock in me, it just wouldn't go." Gaeul gives a pout, lamenting her failure. "I tried so hard, I felt like I couldn't do it. Couldn't breathe. I didn't know how, not with that length buried in me. I felt so small, and... I loved it."

Her face is turning a deep shade of vermilion as she relives the memory. Still, her hand squeezes tight around her water bottle and all the others wait for Gaeul to continue. Yujin is leaning forward, hands on her knees, eyes wide and listening closely. Wonyoung looks rather relaxed on her stretch of wall with her head laid against the cool surface. The sweat from her cheeks and brow slowly trickling down. But she's rapt, fixated, awaiting the story.

"The tip hit the back of my throat. I just didn't want it to stop."

As she describes it, her candid description, with no holds barred, the vision her story creates does something to you. Your mind races at the thought that it might have been any woman in Gaeul's position. Yujin. Wonyoung.

Wonyoung.

Her hand is halfway up your thigh, clearly excited at the image Gaeul is painting. You appreciate the gesture, don't misunderstand that, but there's enough sensory overload without having the weight of her fingers pressing into the firm muscle of your thigh. It isn't doing you any favours as the tiny beads of perspiration at Wonyoung's temple burn on her skin and her flush skin glows. There’s no blaming you for the fantasies that form in your mind. Each as naughty as the last.

Yujin.

She's staring out of the corner of her eye, eyes locked with you and a blank expression on her face. And you just wonder, what it would be like to have her mouth wrapped around your cock. It's difficult, staring down the girl you like while the girl you like (and regularly fucking) has a hand on your leg.

And you just want them both. Right here, right now.

Gaeul continues, "and he's just grabbing at me, palm on my face, gripping my head and he's just fucking my face." You can barely hear her over the beating of your own heart in your eardrum—drumming loudly.

"I must've been choking, and he thought that was hot. He couldn’t stop and I didn’t want him to. He had me pinned, pressing his fingertips into my skin."

Speaking of fingertips, Wonyoung's trace your crotch, blindly roaming and teasing.

"Fuck." Wonyoung's only word—just a whisper from her lips.

Gaeul continues, "I was in heaven." Her eyes are sparkling. They’re glazed over and far-away, lost in the vivid memory.

"Wow," Rei stares in awe.

Gaeul shuffles around in her seat. First running her hand over her legs, pressed together at the knees, before moving a hand over her waist and pulling at the clingy material of her black yoga pants, that stretch tight across her hips. "So... Um... Yeah I guess you could say I like his huge cock."

Yujin speaks now and her voice cuts straight to your core. "He must love that you're, like, a total submissive slut in bed."

"Sometimes," Gaeul is almost back in the room, no longer enraptured by the memories of being used.

"You must blow him any chance you get," Rei pushes.

"Of course." Gaeul nods. She seems pleased as punch, her mouth spreading into a wide grin.

The words spill from your lips, "what about in public places?" And well, fuck, you meant for it to sound a lot more coy.

"A time or two..." she pauses, puckering her lips as her brows lift together, her head tilts slightly, and her gaze lifts upwards as she wracks her mind. "Well, a few times, if that’s interesting to you."

"Very.” Fuck. “I mean. I'm just curious." Stop talking, idiot.

"Well, the details are a secret for now," she grins toward Wonyoung and Yujin, who share a smile and a look.

"How come I haven't heard about this?" Rei chimes in. "You've got a new story every other week, but not even a whisper of this?"

"Because this is naughty and embarrassing." Gaeul covers her face. She's clearly a confused mixture of turned-on and shy right now. She might be a bit hesitant to share her wilder adventures, but the others aren't at all apprehensive about listening to the dirty details.

"One more," Wonyoung requests. She sits at the edge of her seat with a hand planted on your crotch and the other resting on her knee.

"Another?" Gaeul inquires. "I think it's someone else's turn now."

"Gaeul is right. Yujin, ever done anything naughty in public?" Wonyoung asks, drawing in and passing on the attention.

"Not in public, but..." Yujin stares at you for a moment too long. Clearly, the whole not telling anyone thing doesn’t apply to the girls in this room. It’s all far too obvious. "But I did have some fun recently." She grins like the cat that caught the canary.

"How recently?" Wonyoung cocks her head and a few loose locks fall over her shoulder. "What kind of fun? Who with?"

"Just... some guy. He was a total sub, did everything I told him to." She drags her teeth across the plump swell of her bottom lip.

Some guy? Sometimes it feels like all you will ever be.

"Did what you told him?" Gaeul sounds intrigued. "What did you ask him to do?"

"Don't know," Yujin answers quickly. Too quickly. "Nothing much. Just something special for me." Her teeth are back against her lower lip, chewing on it before continuing. "Thing is, he’s a cute guy, and he was a real natural.”

"Did you cum?" Rei jumps in again, straight to the point.

"More than once." Yujin's face lit up. “I didn't let him fuck me, though. You should have seen the desperate look on his face.”

“Did you even let him cum? Poor guy.” Gaeul sympathises unnecessarily, and unknowingly, with you.

“I did, made him blow a load right on me.”

“Oh fuck, I love that.” Rei chimes in with an approving nod. “On my body makes me feel so hot.”

“I'm a face girl myself.” Gaeul admits before bursting out into embarrassed laughter.

Wonyoung stays noticeably quiet on this one. Of course, you know why. ‘Too messy’, she always told you.

“Yeah, we know all about that,” laughs Rei at Gaeul.

God only knows how you ended up in this situation. Sitting between four women, all gorgeous in their own way, each getting equally aroused by the topic of conversation. The atmosphere in the room, so humid and hot already, has seemed to intensify tenfold in the moments since Gaeul began her sordid tale. Now, with each question and subsequent answer, it was building steadily, the sexual tension increasing in magnitude with each word. The heat of their sweat-soaked bodies permeates the air with the burn of the midday sun.

"You didn’t even get fucked? You're no fun, Yujin. I need detail." Wonyoung is feeding off the stories and expelling the energy through her touch into your cock. You pull your knees up now, to try to hide what Wonyoung is doing to you. "Rei. Save us. Please give us something juicy."

"I uh, well..." The nerves in her face are clear. Rei is more than happy to press details from others, but now she's in the spotlight. "There was this guy I met online. I don't even know his name. He just went by an emoji."

"An emoji?" the other three girls say in unison.

"Yeah. An orange. Anyway, not important. So, we met up." Her hands run along her bare thighs, feeling the sticky heat of her palms and the cool beads of sweat along her smooth legs. "I kinda asked him to... I mean, it wasn't explicitly—" She begins her excuses as though her asking this anonymous man to come meet her was shameful. Her fumbling words get a giggle out of Yujin.

"Calm down, Rei, no-one is judging." Gaeul gives her friend an easy smile.

"This was just to hook up and no strings. He had a hotel room." Rei rubs at her neck. Blush overcomes her face.

"Love that vibe." Gaeul holds up a lazy thumb of approval. "The no-strings thing."

"So this wasn't a vanilla fucking, I bet. Did things get wild?" Wonyoung asks as she squeezes her grip on your cock in excitement. "Were there handcuffs or leashes involved? What was it, a spanking? Maybe even gotten yourself a strap, Rei?"

"Oh my god," the embarrassment hits Rei even stronger, even more colour blossoming into her skin, "you're unbelievable," she manages. "So, uh. Not that exactly."

"Yeah? Well, do tell," Gaeul smiles politely. "Might pick up some ideas for my fiancé."

"So there were handcuffs," Rei mutters, then shrugs in an almost nonchalant gesture.

"Yes!" Wonyoung whisper-shouts. "Nice. Let me guess, tied up and whipped." Her hand is the most motionless it has been on your clothed cock the entire time. As if it's frozen in anticipation.

"He restrained me. Cuffed me to the bed. Had his way with me," Rei reveals. It's obvious now she was looking anywhere but in your direction. "The guy was packing too. And knew what he was doing. My whole body was shaking, legs like jelly," she continued, eyes glassy, dreamy even, a thin film covering their beauty, staring ahead without focus. Her nails tap idly at her neck, like she is recalling the memory.

"Fuuuck," Wonyoung swears loudly. "That’s good." She can only speak in hushed tones now, the heat having sapped her strength and turned her speech breathy.

Wonyoung rolls her hips back. Just the slightest bit. But enough for you to feel it, a soft brush across the side of your leg. A brief acknowledgement of contact. An assurance, to you, that Wonyoung hadn't forgotten you or the movements of her hands.

"Shut up," Rei blushes at her friend.

"Look, you're squeezing your thighs together now. Just thinking about this mysterious Mr Orange is turning you on. You sure you're not dripping now?"

"Alright Wony, you're making it weird now." Yujin laughs at her, breaking some of the tension. "Sounds like you need to get laid. Still not doing anything with that boyfriend of yours?" The whole question rolls of her tongue while she’s staring at you. You’re caught in some unspoken, twisted game.

"Nope. Never will. You know I don't like him." Wonyoung’s words are ice cold. You never pushed for details on it, but you have picked up on bits and pieces of this before. As best you understand, her family pushed the relationship on her. He's some wealthy heir from another chaebol family. They never loved each other, or even knew each other properly. The relationship was purely political. Strategic.

"I have to go," Gaeul speaks while frantically tapping away on her phone. It's painfully obvious to everyone in the room what’s happening and where she's going. Her fiance is probably already getting the cuffs ready. But she doesn't seem to care to hide it and, to be frank, she cannot be the only person excited about the prospect of sex right now.

"You two girls should probably go too. I'm going to stay and work on my form a little." Wonyoung turns to face you. "And you're going to help me, right?"

"Of course, whatever you need." You respond automatically, feeling almost obligated at this point. Yujin chuckles at you. Probably internally mocking just how easy you really are. Just like how she described you earlier. Total sub.

"Okay, see you." Gaeul stands abruptly. “I need to—”

“We know.” The rest of you say together. She nods her head and then is heading for the door in a rush, collecting her stuff messily under her arm. She drops her hat at the door and stops to pick it up. While bending down, she looks back at the four of you.

“Have fun!” Rei calls out with genuine excitement.

Gaeul nods again and spins, rushing out the door.

Rei moves slower to leave, reluctant, almost. But once Yujin stands and is gathering her things, Rei follows suit.

“Aren't you supposed to be taking us home?” Yujin looks at you. She already knows how this will play out, but she wants to make her point.

“You could always wait outside for him.” Wonyoung responds for you with a cocky smile. There's no way she is letting you go.

“Why do you need him, anyway?” Rei asks.

“Rei, sweetie, look at her hand.” Yujin turns to her but gestures her hand out towards you—towards your lap.

“Oh. OH!” You can see in her face that she has so many questions, but the stare from Wonyoung makes her keep her mouth shut.

“Let's go,” Yujin places a hand on Rei's shoulder.

The two girls are walking away from you, and all you can do is watch their asses leave. Leggings hug one, the other in shorts, both thick. Plump asses, firm thighs, wide hips. The stretchy material of their clothing barely constrains them.

"Alright, now let's get down to business." Wonyoung immediately shifts to sit astride your thigh. It's not that she doesn't know that Rei and Yujin will spend their whole journey home talking about you two. It's just that she doesn't care.

She's straddling you. Her own leg pinning against your hard bulge. Wonyoung rolls herself along you, sending pleasure radiating in ripples throughout your body. Wonyoung smiles mischievously. "We've got half an hour, maybe."

Her hot breath hitting your face. It's hard to be sure how much of it is from her arousal and how much from the intense dancing not ten minutes ago.

"Fuck, that was so hot. The idea of Gaeul getting her pretty mouth fucked." Wonyoung lets out a satisfied sigh as she sinks her hips against your clothed leg. "Did you see her face? I bet she was creaming at just the memory."

Wonyoung's fingers slip under your waistband, then her hand follows them, wrapping around you and pumping. "You liked it." The confirmation is in her hand, but the grin on her face grows, evidently pleased to find your arousal. She licks her lip hungrily and gives a slow pump of her hand. "That's perfect. I really need a cock right now. In my throat."

As she says it, she backs off your lap, stands and steps away. Just a slight separation, but the difference is enormous: the absence of her hot, wet centre creates a vacuum—impossible to ignore.

She's already twisting around on her heels. Then she pulls her tight, tiny shorts down and takes her thong with them, squatting slightly to pass the clothes over her legs, leaving her bare ass in front of your face. She turns back to you, wearing only her skin tight tank top. Her sodden cunt is now right there, bare and as pretty as ever. "Clothes off."

Obedient and efficient, you pull at the bottom of your shirt to lift it over your head. There's no slow tease, just business: you lift your hips and pull off your shorts and underwear together, while kicking off your shoes.

"Get up," is her instruction, the stern bite on her voice only seeming to harden her demeanour. Wonyoung takes your place on the bench, sitting delicately, like an idol would. Cross-legged and her hands atop her knee. Her top still hugging her frame. She raises one hand and angles a single finger towards you, her wrist pointing to the ceiling. She beckons you, parting her plump lips and resting her head against the mirror behind her.

Mouth, Wonyoung signals again and, with that, you're moving towards her.

Wonyoung demands your attention. Everything about her is inviting: the playful half-lidded gaze as her tongue swirls in her mouth and she lets it roll slowly along her lip. Even just the sharp cut of her jaw and long strands that frame it are striking and you'll be the last one to object to giving her what she asks for.

“Wony—”

"Shh." A sharp sound. Her lips purse. Inviting. "come here."

Without a sound, your stiff cock presses toward Wonyoung's silky-smooth face. Though her lips are glistening and begging for you to glide in, they rest unmoving, arrogantly waiting for you to do the work. It is only for a brief moment, but it's infuriatingly unhelpful. The silence breaks though, and she groans in a mix of anticipation and irritation and tilts her face up, angling her hips against the edge of the bench as a soft hiss escaped her lips. "Now."

Your hand tangles into her hair as she wraps her mouth around you—wet, warm and oh-so very inviting. And she wastes no time in pushing forward and dragging your head in deeper, enveloping you, with her tongue sliding on the underside of your length. And she hums gently, the vibrations reaching you and rippling through the depths of your groin. She is eager for your cock, her hands reaching and clawing. A controlling grasp on your hips.

Your hands remain firmly wound into the strands of her hair, gripping as if you are afraid of floating away, all the blood in your system rushing to your centre, dizzying your brain. She began pulling your hips against her, directing the movements and ensuring each pump brought another inch into her mouth. She continues eagerly. Wonyoung's technique was a blend of savouring and indulgence, an incarnation of sheer passion.

Even from beneath you, Wonyoung maintains all power. She guides you without the slightest hint of effort. The flex of her shoulder, the flow of her arm. She pulls you in.

Deeper.

Every pump bringing your hips closer and closer to her face. Every move is for her, from the angle of her head to the arch of her spine and even the hollowing of her cheeks. She owns the power in your body—and she wants it that way too, drawing you ever deeper, encouraging more movement, silently coaxing and promising a glorious reward at the end.

Keep going. Words unspoken but never more clearly conveyed. The flutter of her eyelids and the fire they temporarily conceal. Her throat contracting against the tip of your cock every time she guides you in. The warm comfort of the excess saliva running from her lower lip.

Eyes fixed on her pretty face and innocent gaze through the not-so-innocent act. Everything around you in a haze.

Deeper.

Captivating. Her movements never waiver and her determination is infallible as your mind clouds and you feel that coil in your belly tighten and constrict and burn through. You know this can't last forever. No matter how much you wish it could, but you're lost in the trance and there's nothing that could break you out of it—except maybe Yuj—fuck, not now.

Wonyoung stops, throwing you a look as if she knows. As if she felt the doubt inside you. She parts her lips and draws her head back.

In a move that washes away all those doubts, Wonyoung brings right leg over left and follows through the movement, lifting her legs onto the bench, feet flat and knees in the air. Back flat against the bench. Head suspended from the end of it.

You're on autopilot, following her face down, your soaked cock leading the way. You shift, putting your knees on the hardwood floor.

She puckers her lips, closing her eyes and arching her back. Wonyoung lures you in. Her tongue curls and reels you inside her mouth. Just an inch and then two, then three, then four. Your eyes revel at the sight. The mirror to your side only elevates the experience as you watch your cock disappear in her. Two Wonyoungs laid side by side, taking two cocks.

Wonyoung continues arching as you push on. Further and further and further.

Deeper.

Until... no more.

Until her eyes squeeze shut and the walls of her throat clenches, seizing down on you.

A strangled moan rasps in your throat as you lunge forward, trying desperately, selfishly, to press beyond the possible. You could lose to her right here and now.

Not now, no, not yet, not without fucking that tight little throat first.

Her throat bulging with the girth of your cock, her muscles desperately attempting to repel the foreign invasion.

Air is at a premium for the petite girl strewn out on the end of your cock. And yet, she settles, relaxes. She feels at home with a throat full of cock. Her long, slender legs remain folded together, yet while you were caught up in the intensity of entering her mouth, Wonyoung found the time to bury a hand between her thighs.

She's fucking her own hand. Rotating her hips and squeezing her thighs.

You draw out of her mouth, only for a second, just to give her the gasp of air she so desperately needs before you fuck into her throat again. Her legs clench as you thrust. Every little bit of pleasure that Wonyoung desires, she gets—as always.

There it is again, the vibrations against your tip as she moans.

Your fists full of hair and now, you pound into her pretty little mouth without pause. Creating the lewdest of sights. Wonyoung on the verge of orgasm, her face filled with you.

She's only becoming more of a mess as you fuck it, the saliva pouring from her mouth running over her. You keep going for so long that she’s spluttering. She’s choking now between the brief moments you give her, just like Gaeul was in her story. This is what Wonyoung wants, exactly how she wanted it.

It’s funny that for a girl so intent on you not making a mess of her, this is what she has become. She just has to really want it. Duly noted.

And god, is she fucking loving it. The pleasure washes over her as her body wriggles, and you continue your thrusting. She continues her own. Together, you take her to her peak. And you don't stop. Her hand doesn't stop—pushing past it, forcing herself into a state of bliss.

It's messier still. It's so fucking messy when she cums. Tears streaming. Saliva drooling. Sticky cum enveloping her hand.

And it's good. It's so fucking good when she moans on your cock. It's soft. It's tight. It vibrates, sucks—holds you and stimulates you. Her throat is—if only for a moment—the best sex toy that money can’t buy.

You have to give it to her, she’s playing the role of toy perfectly.

This toy? It plays with you.

She pushes her hand against the base of your cock. No more fucking. No more exploring the depth of her delicate throat. She had just came, after all.

That’s what matters to her.

You—you're on the edge and hanging on for dear life. The knot is twisted so tight that it hurts. And holding you on that edge is Wonyoung, holding you by the cock. An unmoving hand. If you weren't already on your knees, you would fall to them.

"Fuck, that was good." Wonyoung peeks around the cock she holds above her face, a wry smile painting her lips.

You want to reply, but your need to cum is clouding your mind like the most powerful of drugs. Words are just letters floating around your mind. Intoxicated by a woman, as you have been so many times. She's not just any woman.

"What's wrong? Aww, do you want to cum?" She playfully, with no real grip, twists and pulls her hand on your cock. It's not enough.

You let out a huff and nod.

She flashes an evil grin. "How about on my face?"

It's not something she's ever offered before. As much as you thought, so many times, about covering her pretty face in your cum, you never expected her to offer it. Perhaps that alone should serve as a warning. Too good to be true.

But at this point, you don't give a fuck. In her throat, on her face, you just need her to give you a sweet release. You chase it, pushing your hips towards her hands, desperately searching for friction. Blinded by lust, as dumb as a dog.

"First, tell me something." It says a lot about her. How she can be mostly naked, on her back underneath you, freshly fucked throat and all. And somehow she holds all the cards in this situation. "Did you fuck Yujin?"

"No..." It's not strictly a lie. You never put your cock inside her.

"I saw your dirty faces, the way you look at each other. And the way she told that story, about you, with you right there."

"Wonyoung. We didn't fuck. But even if we did, would that be so bad?"

"But she let you cum on her?” Wonyoung laughs aloud and starts playfully stroking your cock again. "You should have fucked her."

The action of her hand is torture, keeping you dangling and off balance. You were so close to the release and now she is holding you over the precipice, with no warning of a fall either way. You're as lost for words as you are for action. But truthfully, is it even a surprise that Wonyoung doesn't care if you do fuck her friend? She is the one cheating on her boyfriend, after all. Your only crime may be not telling her first.

"Now, will you cum on my face already? I know Yujin will never let you do this." And that’s it. The crux of it all. It all makes sense, doesn’t it? The reason this is happening, any of this here in this room, is because she refuses to be outshone. She intends to match act for act with all her friends, except Yujin. Yujin, she wants to beat—and the game is you.

And the irony is, she would never let her boyfriend do any of this.

"Fuck, Wony, you're insane," you grit, nearly delirious. This couldn't get any better. Two identical hot girls, mirrored and now they're getting even more adventurous. And Wonyoung finally ready to give you the satisfaction of blowing a load on her face? You couldn’t care less why it was happening, only that it was.

You fucking into her grip. In some metaphor for the whole relationship, your hips do work while her hand guides, keeping you aimed at her innocent face. She softly closes her eyes, slightly parting her lips. Waiting. She looks so beautiful, relaxed and comfortable, despite knowing what was coming. Despite the saliva still running from her mouth. Despite the post orgasm glow on her face.

"Anytime now." Wonyoung opened one eye, her face still pointing directly upwards. "Don’t make me ask again."

The feeling takes over, starting at the root of your spine, in the base of your gut, and bubbling like a cauldron ready to explode. Her soft hand strokes harder, working you the last few paces as her tongue slips past her pink lips, flicking over them gently.

The sensations erupt. That familiar hot-cold tingle. Those electrifying nerves firing off. You buck wildly, firing off ribbons of cum across Wonyoung's flawless, innocent face. Her lips spread apart in a wide open-mouthed gasp and then shut immediately afterwards.

And, amidst the spurting of cum and the euphoric high, Wonyoung deviously began licking, slurping, sucking. Swiping the fluid off her lips, catching every shot. Her face is the image of debauchery. You're fixated—stretching out the few remaining seconds of orgasm as your cock twitches in her hand and on her face. She's draining you dry with her naughty smirk.

Even when it’s over and done, she maintains that same confident look on her face. Her nose and lips are shiny and dripping with cum. But she never hesitates; her mouth parts and her tongue juts out, curling up to you. Your cock disappears inside, a wet-hot paradise. She's cleaning you. Swirling her tongue and sliding up the length, pulling off the mess. Sucking on the tip to coax the last remnants to pool inside her waiting mouth.

Your body burns. Satisfaction seeping out your limbs and leaving your body weightless, barely holding yourself over her on the wooden bench.

She draws you out. Dripping with her spit. Hanging heavy. Sensitive as her mouth lets go and pulls back, the suction releasing. Then, lips tight, mouth closing, her neck moving as she swallows.

Wonyoung twists and rises, sitting again the bench, in your kneeled position this leaves you eye to eye.

Pain. Stinging.

So much of it on your left cheek.

She just slapped you. She fucking slapped you. You're bigger than her, stronger than her, and yet you feel so small.

"Next time you fool around with another girl, you get my permission first."

Her voice is icy. You shake your head, holding your face. Staring at your reflection in the mirror; you're flush but one cheek is redder than the other. And you can see her too. She’s pulling up part of her top, wiping away most of your cum—the bits that didn’t already fall onto her body or into her hair, anyway. Her face looks like an angel's, but her actions betraying the illusion.

"Now make it up to me." She's looking at you through the reflection. Then, turning and facing you directly, she reaches out to hold you by the jaw, pulling your focus back to her. It’s hard to believe that she’s the one cheating here.

She slaps you again.

You're locked in a cold and silent stare. Tied together by tension.

You're stunned. Left at her mercy. Wonyoung dips her head forward, going in for a kiss, her heart-shaped lips plant directly on your own and before you know it, you're returning the kiss.

It's rough, and it's messy. She bites at you—hard—while her fingers claw your skin, running along your muscles. All until suddenly she pulls you, guides you. Not physically, but that's certainly what it feels like. Such is your response. You take her place on the bench, sitting while she leans over you.

Wonyoung breaks the kiss and leaves you to watch the scene unfold and admire her perfect form, lithe and slender but not without toned definition, which is exactly why she could pull off outfits that would send men insane, simply based on how she looks underneath.

Her hands splay across her flawless flesh. Deliberately. Slowly.

Never a movement out of place and ensuring her head is held high and regal—a queen's demeanour.

Standing over you. Looking down upon you, no less arrogant than before. It’s her natural position. Her default state. To have power over man.

If she didn't look so angelic, you'd swear she's a devil.

Starting at her shoulders, fingertips slipping over the porcelain skin of her arms until they reach the elbows and hop over to her waist, gripping the hem of her tank top. It doesn't sit as tight as it did before—bunched up, a little twisted, and dashed in cum. It doesn't sit in any fashion for much longer as she pulls it overhead in a single motion. The top lands discarded and forgotten. Her hair, damp and ruffled, now cascades over her petite shoulders in thick strands.

She's bare now. Head to toe. Your eyes dart all over, drinking her beauty like a tall glass of water. Taking in all her stunning details—she is a perfect portrait of a perfect woman, a fantasy even.

This image has been burned into your mind many times over. Yet somehow, each and every time feels new. Awestruck, you admire her petite body, the lean and firm muscles, and just enough of a pair of breasts that gravity calls their name.

"Wony. You're so—"

"I know." She cocks an arrogant smirk.

"I think—"

"I know." She stalks slowly closer. Like a predator over its prey.

"I want to—"

"Oh. I know." She's so damn cute when she giggles. It almost feels inappropriate for what's going down. And then the little devil rears within her again, manifesting in her expression. Darker than it was before.

Her fingers trace her flat stomach, rising and falling in time with her breaths. A cadence to them which tells a story of excitement, no less excited than the first time she teased you in your car. Now here, and over a month later, you still haven't gotten your fill. Even this—maybe especially this—could never be enough. The slightest and subtlest hints of arousal are beautiful on her. She's practically purring when she perches on top of you and pins you back against the mirror by the shoulders.

"Who does your big dick belong to?" She poses the question while delicately lowering herself onto you, staring into your eyes. You hesitate to answer, too stricken by the image of Wonyoung finding a comfortable seat on you.

"You." No matter what your relationship might be or who else was involved, in this moment, like so many before it, you are hers and no other. "Fuck me, Wonyoung, please."

"So very needy." The words roll off her tongue as the heat of her cunt skates up toward your middle. So close against your skin, you can feel her pulse throb against your stomach. Her petite ass pressing down onto your stiff cock. Her hands spread wide and palms flat on your chest, steadying her, giving her strength. Her hips roll, coating you with the wetness between her thighs. Back arched, neck strained, head tilting upwards. Every muscle flexes in her exposed form.

She is unadulterated eroticism, every grind of her hips and caress of her hands. An utter marvel.

"Don't. Move." Every word has her breath caught in her throat.

Been through this so many times before that there's an unspoken understanding. Wonyoung scoots her body over you. Hand reaching for your cock. Delicate fingers. Dainty, as she grips it, guiding, angling it against her. Lower, lower until—she finds the entrance and presses it against herself. A sharp intake of air. Her eyes squeezed closed. She holds there for a second until gravity takes control, hips dropping to impale her onto your length.

Your eyes roll back and so does your mind, back to the view of Wonyoung's body moving during the dance. Does she know she's mirroring those mesmerising hip movements on you? Maybe not. But it doesn't change anything. Not to Wonyoung. She does it so naturally—the consummate performer, who knows what works.

You're looking down. Down. Down to where she's perched on your dick. Admiring her tight cunt, working so hard to take you in. Muscles gripping. Walls clenching. Stretching to fit. Working her body downward.

Her ass never rests on you. This is all her work. Perpetual motion. Constant and consistent. Down and then up and then down and back up. Gradual. Calculated and controlled. Fingers raking at your chest as the motion of her body doubles as the dance, sending that intoxicating swaying motion through her and into you.

Eyes travel up. How her toned abs flex. Trim and petite. It all only serves to highlight just how pretty a figure she cuts. Elegant and alluring. Sinking down, squeezing you into her.

Higher. Her perky little tits in front of your face. Smooth, perfect, porcelain.

Higher. Her sharp collarbone, all the little contours, carved for her as though by the most brilliant artisan.

Higher. Neck curved, shifting from her swallow and gasp.

To her blood-red lips. They part and between them her tongue flicks, hitting her front teeth before she bites down on her lower lip. It stifles a soft moan until it's barely a whisper.

And her eyes. Sheer focus. Not on you. But on the mirror behind you.

On her own reflection.

All the time you spend to admire her, she is doing the same thing. Staring herself up and down. It is selfish and greedy. An egotistical desire. An intimate moment—with the person she truly loves most.

It's narcissism taken to a degree you've never seen before. An addictive kind of worship. For both of you.

"Wony..." holding your eyes up to hers, watching her as she's watching herself. She looks like a goddess. "Does it feel good? I love the feeling of my cock inside you," you say in an attempt to gain her focus. "Fuck. You're perfect."

A soft exhale as her eyes lock onto yours for just a moment, then her lashes flutter closed.

She takes a hand from your chest and plants it over your mouth. Her eyes flicker back to life and she's got them on the mirror again.

She's aggressive now. The girl in the mirror is hitting her hips harder than before onto the cock beneath her. Her crotch hitting against your own. You can't help but steer into the skid, being the silent participant she desires. You're pawing your hands at her cunt now. Figuring out then matching her rhythm and pushing your finger against her clit. It's obscene, hearing her wet cunt smacking against your legs.

Her almost silent focus breaks. She's not stifling her moans anymore.

And fuck you for saying this: but watching her watch herself makes the moment fucking magical.

Her eyebrows knitting as the tides of pleasure crash over her. Her lower lip quivering. The wrinkles on her nose. Her chest fluttering. A struggle to maintain her posture.

She's shaking. From her arms to her knees and through to the tips of her fingers.

She throws herself forward against you.

Head on your shoulder. Her forehead against the glass.

Wonyoung's entire body is convulsing on you. A string of incomprehensible cries echoing against the empty walls. You grab at the flesh of her ass with your hands, clamping her tight, encouraging her to keep pushing back into you and ride out the orgasm. She is shaking violently in your embrace. She is grinding, squeezing, tightening, and quaking all at once.

You run a hand up her moist back, along her spine. Meeting many moistened locks of hair, sticking to her skin. You hold your hand at the top of her back, supporting her limp frame against you.

Her mouth is right by your ear. You listen to the final quiet noises of bliss escaping her. Washing out of her. She lets you know just how good it was, if not from those satisfied groans and the shuddering of her body, then from the deluge of her arousal pooling around your cock and her cunt. She is dripping cum. Hot and sticky, in more than one spot. It was messy. Messy, but it was unbridled fun.

"What the fuck was that?" you whisper. She raises her head off your shoulder and leans back, sitting tall on top of you. Still, your cock is inside, throbbing and ready for its turn. Her hands snake to your jaw and hold it tightly.

"Exactly what I needed."

"And the mirror thing?"

"What can I say? I look pretty when I'm fucking." Wonyoung laughs, soft and breathy, an intimate moment shared only by you two. Now it’s not like you should be surprised by any of it. On a scale of one to ten, Wonyoung is an eleven, though you imagine you asked her. She would give herself a twelve.

The hands leave your jaw, only to be replaced with the pressure of Wonyoung pressing forward again to kiss you. More? Finally.

"You wanna cum again?" she asks, words separated by kisses before moving to your neck.

"Mmmm..." is all the answer you can give, distracted by the feeling of her body shifting against yours.

Wonyoung pulls back from your neck to look at you, burrowing her hand into the hair at the back of your head. She squeezes into a fist, forcing a grimace of pain from you, which brings a grin to her lips.

"Is that a yes?" Her voice a blade edge against your ears.

"Fuck. Yes. Of course."

"That's what I thought." The sly girl, hiding the self-assured vixen underneath her exquisite exterior. "Stand. I want you to fuck me against the mirror."

Still planted to the hilt inside her, you begin to stand.

You're unable to pull out of the tight wet warmth that is Jang Wonyoung. Her grip tight on you—coiling around your cock—effectively pinning you in her. Her body melts against you like candle wax. Warm and lax.

She's weightless as you stand, her slender frame clasped around your body. It's easy to manhandle a girl this small—one of your hands, pressed firmly to her back, can encompass her tiny waist. Your other arm hooks under her ass, holding her suspended. And, for the time being, all of her is draped over and around you.

You press her to the cold mirror, and she shudders, arching her back. Her entire body stretches as if trying to get further from it—leaving a smear of sweat on it. Legs lock around your hips. Folded tight. Locking in the key. Caging you between her thighs. You hold her with a single hand now—curling it under her tiny ass. Fingertips gripping, digging into flesh. The other against the mirror—for balance.

You bend your knees, taking position, gaining posture. The slightest movement it causes inside her brings a gasp. She's clinging tighter to you. Her arms coil around your shoulders, her ankles crossed around the small of your back, her core tightening and squeezing her pelvis forward—grinding herself into you. The squeeze on your cock exhilarates. The pressure is immense—inside and outside. You've never had her this tight.

A rumble rasps through your vocal chords as a growl escapes your mouth. It vibrates against the warmth of her neck and into her small frame.

"Come on, give it to me, don’t hold back" her lips barely move as they whisper against you.

"Is that what you want, Wonyoung? You want me to fuck you as hard as I can against the mirror?" Your hips press firmly against hers. Her tight cunt does its best to embrace you.

"Fuck. Yes."

That was all the cue you needed, drawing back and then slamming yourself deep in her—and back again—forming the thrust into a series of unforgiving blows.

She bounces between your pelvis and the cool glass, rattling as her naked form is hit against the mirror. Small, supple and yielding, taking your full force, each movement amplified and exaggerated in her tiny frame. Her cries—from shock, surprise, pleasure, and delight—they echo. The lewd smacks of flesh hitting, the loud moans and the heat. It all collides right here on the wall of the studio.

It's frantic. It's furious. It's fucking euphoric. You're locked inside a beauty who is getting filled to the absolute brim by your cock. It's a power rush—Wonyoung's eternal play on control and dominance being robbed from her and your ability to just keep pounding into her tight, wet cunt.

"Ah!" Wonyoung winces. You pause for a brief second. Did she really mean stop? But a moment later, her lips curl into a grin, "Yes! Harder! Don't hold back. I need you to wreck my fucking pussy!"

And it begins anew—all the noise. The bouncing, slamming and swearing. And despite the fire and the fury, you can sense a strange calm. Like this is exactly where the two of you are supposed to be. This is exactly where the both of you always needed to be. Right here. In the moment. Because Wonyoung doesn't need a man and she didn't need someone who would fall at her feet and treat her like royalty—she has enough of those. No, all she ever needed was a dick who could fuck her within an inch of her life.

A hard slam sends Wonyoung crashing back to the mirror with a shrill yelp and a wide grin. "Yes! Exactly like that!"

Firm fingers twist into your flesh, her hands clawing, desperately grasping at anything she could find to ground her, all while your brutal assault continues unabated, sending waves of ecstasy cascading through both bodies. Her wails rise and break—crescendos interrupted—but never stopped. Both of you are a complete mess as the furious fuck brings out everything each of you are. The deep animalistic desires. And when you hear her scream, it is a different kind of high.

"Don't stop! Don't you dare fucking stop! Don't fucking sto—mm!" she struggles and gasps for breath, struggling to keep track of her words, the raging bonfire between her legs clouding her mind. "F-fuck..."

"Cumming? Cum." The only words you could manage. You could feel it too, the rising tide. A mountain climber, clinging to the peak, each and every muscle engaged in the fight.

"Yes—" her breath is snatched before another animalistic moan. "Don't stop." She pulls at your hair, claws at your back, a fierce warning. "Don't fucking cum yet."

She holds, gripping onto the ridge, the muscles in her arms, in her legs, her hands tense. The world turns, spinning, and spiralling—the two of you holding tight to one another, both grunting with the strain. She is cumming now, you know it. She spasms against you, against the mirror, and she’s becoming ever more difficult to hold.

Your feet are failing you, threating to give way. In a desperate act, you spin from the wall, drop to your knees, taking Wonyoung with you. There's no stopping you now. Feral. Bestial. Both of your bodies crashing together. She's arching, clawing, and pulling and urging you forward. On the hardwood floors, you fuck like animals. Your legs may have given way, but your hips don't surrender. Don't succumb to the exertion. You're fucking her in to the floor. Her tiny ass pressed against it.

The thundering smack of flesh.

Tumultuous breathing and roaring, unbroken moans.

Arching, bending.

Heating and rising.

You're right on the edge.

She never lets you finish inside.

"Wonyoung, I..."

"Don't fucking dare." Her voice sharp. You hold on to the feeling for dear life. "On me."

It's enough. You accept that it’s never in her. Never before on her, but now twice in a day. It’s enough. She can't possibly mean it...

"I'm—Fuck, I'm..."

"On me. Yes. Cum allover me." She releases you from her grasp and you pull back to your knees. She spreads herself for you. Arms out to her side, palms flat on the hardwood floors, legs pulled apart with her knees resting on your hips. Presenting for you.

Your hand wraps around your shaft, throbbing and hot to touch. You beat your cock for a few quick seconds, with balls tight, with Wonyoung laid prone for you, watching you stroke your cock.

Watching her. She arches, presses herself upwards, offering her breasts, her stomach... her face.

You don't have any time to think. It is happening.

You unload on her with a sharp grunt, met with a shocked gasp. Coating her petite form. The white stuff gliding across her porcelain skin, decorating the gorgeous girl beneath you. The lean cut of a dancer, now adorned in your cum. You shoot ropes of it across her perky little tits and narrow stomach and her pretty face. A sticky sheen glazes her and drips down. Her tongue flickers, collecting what she can and her mouth hungrily welcomes each droplet.

What's this, you wonder? Is this to be her addiction?

Every motion of her body screams need, sexual need. She wants it all, greedily licking and lapping it up as you drop the final rivulets of cum onto her tummy.

You're captivated as you watch Wonyoung, laying patiently under a sputtering of cum, a thin layer glossing parts her body. She didn't bother to wipe it or scoop it up, instead; it ran down her, following the channels carved out by her subtle contours. A work of art in your eyes—this pretty face, contorted in twisted lust—at the feeling of hot, sticky fluid painting her perfect body.

In all these moments you two have shared, this truly is a first. A messy, debauched cum covered Wonyoung.

"Does it feel good to cover me with your cum?"

You nod.

"Say it. Out loud, I can see it in your eyes. You like seeing your cum on my pretty little face? On my body?"

"I fucking love it, Wony," you mutter and she laughs, a laugh somewhere between playful and impish.

"I feel filthy," Wonyoung confesses with a devilish smirk. "I bet you love to hear that?"

"Yes. Yes," you breathe the words out as you desperately try to catch your breath. Her leg comes up, sliding her toes along the underside of your sensitive cock. Too sensitive.

"Agh," you flinch. "Fuck."

She pushes the tip of your cock against your stomach, rubbing her toes on it and you start to pull away, the friction causing pain.

"Stay." Her tone is a firm demand, in control of the situation—despite her current state. Your body obeys the instruction. Her toes start to roam across your softening cock again. Slick with her fluids. She twists, rubbing the shaft. Pinches, rubbing the head. Pulls, tugging down. The intensity of stimulation is mind numbing. A sick mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Who's the best?" Wonyoung asks. It takes a few seconds to process, a delay, and longer than normal. Your brain fogged. Too much to even formulate words.

"Who's the best, hm? Answer me." Her demand is no louder but feels heavier. Her foot slides down your cock, pushing at the base, pushing at your balls.

Your words are slow to follow.

"Wonyo—" she presses more, and a shock runs up the base of your spine. "Agh...you. Wonyoung, you." Your words choke up. "You're the best."

"Thought so."

Another moment of silent pause. She puckers her lips, sucking up and swallowing a patch of your cum that found it’s way to her hand. It draws your eyes to her, a silent spectacle. She locks on you, her gaze so steady and so piercing.

"And, who's going to clean this mess up so we don't get caught?"

"Me." The words tumble out, falling off your lips.

"Good. Your bathroom is down the hall. Don't get caught, and don't leave a trace." She recoils her foot and then climbs out of the mess the two of you left on the floor. Her step is awkward. Your load is now starting to harden on her. Her calves slick from her own cum. The gloss of it shining on her skin.

All the time, her face beaming. Satisfied and glowing. Wonyoung is relishing her depraved state. She doesn't wait for you to follow. Not even a look as she collects her clothes. Her shorts with the thong. Her completely ruined tank top. Both shoes. She starts to walk, again with that awkward gait.

After only a couple of steps she looks over her shoulder, back at you, still subdued on the floor. "By the way. That was your best yet. That… was amazing." She smiles softly and heads to the changing room. She disappears. Leaving your mind and your imagination to swirl as you stare at her spot on the floor long after she was gone.

The cum, her sweat, the stickiness—all the marks that prove she was there, the evidence that paints a picture of what went on in this dance studio.

You never see her leave. She must have slipped out between trips to and from the bathroom, and then the janitor's closet, which you eventually found. You thank the stars for Wonyoung's privilege—that meant no staff are needed on the evenings she is here.

What a strange silence it was as you cleaned—nothing but the rain outside. An unsettling contrast between what went on before. Almost tranquil—like that weird place just before waking, before reality has time to assert itself and erase the dream of the night before.

***

"It's dance practice tonight. I take it you'll be there again, following Wonyoung as usual?" Yujin mocks you playfully while playing with her straw between her delicate fingers. Her glass half-full of milkshake which she lazily stirs and drinks. Drinks loudly with a slurp on the straw.

"Don't you want me there?" you reply after swallowing the last bite of your meal and setting down your cutlery. The cafeteria is as lively as ever. Aside from this particular table, where it's only the two of you. It's not the type of table just anyone can take a seat at—Wonyoung wouldn't allow it.

"Doesn't matter. Wony's the one that invited you."

"She just wants me to—"

"Wants you to fuck her. Yeah, we all know." Yujin lets go of her straw, and it settles into the milkshake. You both lean back in the plastic cafeteria seats. She crosses her arms. "And no, it's not that I'm jealous. Don't even try it."

"I didn't say anything." You show her the palms of your hands. Not guilty is your plea.

"At least if I hang around, I can take you guys home, right? No need for your father to send a car." Always the people pleaser, you are.

"And did that happen last week? No, it didn't." Yujin picks up her drink and takes a slurp from the straw while staring at you. It's hard to tell if she's actually annoyed at you. Her words would say so, but her tones remain calm and soft when she speaks.

Besides, she knows that she could just as easily make the same demands Wonyoung does, and you'd be on your knees for her in a second.

But it's been 8 whole days since that night at Yujin's house. And she's yet to even hint that she wants it to happen again. The more you think about it, the more confused you get.

"Not interrupting am I? I can give you some alone time if you like?" Gaeul places her hand on your shoulder, looking down at you and grinning.

"Not funny Gaeul. And no. Sit." Unusually cold from Yujin, she avoids your eye and gives Gaeul a short-tempered response.

Gaeul walks around behind Yujin, giving you a wide-eyed glare as she goes. As if to say 'what did you do?' It's impossible to answer with words. It's all too much, too tangled.

She takes a seat next to Yujin, placing her iced coffee on the table along with her protein bar. It's typical Gaeul. She's always on the move, living life at an aggressive pace, constantly busy. Even now she's on her phone, scrolling through something. You can't see what from this angle, and you've barely got the chance to catch her eyes and smile at her. But her face lights up, the brightness mirrored as you smile back.

"They're announcing the casts tonight for the graduation performances." Yujin nods as her finger points toward Gaeul's phone.

"We already know how it's going to go down. They’re not going to deny the money and status of a Jang. And we’ll be there to back her up." Gaeul pauses and takes a sip of her drink. "For us anyway. That's all that matters."

Gaeul slips the phone back into her bag and then scoops up the protein bar, starting to unwrap it. Before she takes a bite she asks you, "what about you? Why didn't you ever sign up to anything?"

"Because he's too busy sitting in the back of dance classes staring at our asses," Yujin answers for you.

"Actually, I'm still new here, remember? I just haven't got around to it yet."

"Yeah, because you're too busy staring at our asses," Yujin persists with a coy smile.

"Sure. Let's call it that. So I've been too busy staring at your asses to sign up for any classes."

"Alright, not too loud." Gaeul laughs. How did the conversation always end up going the same way? And how are you always in the middle of it? Thankfully, Gaeul decides to bail you out. "So, bro, any plans to go to the party tomorrow night?"

"You mean the one I didn't get an invitation to?" you're quick to ask back.

"You can be my plus one."

"Boyfriend not in town?" Yujin is quick to ask before you can reply to Gaeul.

"Nope. But I can't let that spoil my fun, plus it means I can bring a friend." Her eyes flutter back across to you. "Unless you've already got a plan for tomorrow night?"

"Sure, why not? Not like I've got much else going on. Are you going to be there, Yujin?"

Yujin swallows the last slurp of her milkshake, the loud straw sucking noise filling the void of the pause. "I'll be there. Actually, I need you tomorrow, before the party."

"Before?"

"Yes. You're going to help me pick a dress." It's not exactly the exciting rendezvous that sprung to mind. You weren't even sure exactly why you had to go. Why Yujin would need your opinion?

You open your mouth to speak but before even a syllable comes out, you spot Wonyoung across the room, heading towards the three of you. Yujin catches on and follows your gaze, not long before Gaeul follows suit, twisting in her chair. For a moment, the three of you are watching Wonyoung stride over the tiled floor. Each footstep seems to make the world grow quieter. People all around seem to part for her. It's not even conscious on their part.

It's hypnotising. It's captivating. It's utterly spellbinding the way she moves.

She has a sense of dignity, class, and poise. There's an elegance to her, and just a hint of sway in her hips. At the same time, Wonyoung's every movement also screams of a fierce strength. An undercurrent of steel. Not intimidating—not intentionally at least. Maybe simply the natural impression of a strong young woman, fearlessly unapologetic.

She reaches the three of you, greeting with a grin. "Did I miss much?"

Gaeul is the first to reply. "Just talking about the party."

"Oh exciting. I've seen the guest list. I can't wait." Wonyoung slides gracefully into the seat by your side, carefully placing her designer bag on the table. No need for her to say any more, Wonyoung and high-brow parties go hand-in-hand.

The room around you is slowly, subtly coming back to life. Sounds from everywhere start, one by one, to creep back in. The conversations return. The low hubbub. The clattering of trays. It's getting loud again.

Wonyoung continues, "and I do need to get out of the house. Father is away again and mother drives me insane."

"He's away again?" Yujin asks, shuffling in her seat and then leaning forward. She brings her palm to her chin and her elbow onto the table.

"New York this time. Something like that. Company business." Wonyoung dismisses. You are well aware that they've never been close. He's worked from the earliest day she can remember up until now—that’s the life of the head of a chaebol. She told you before about how he's rarely home. And even when his body is, his mind is still half-way around the globe. His wife probably suffers for it, too. She raises the kids alone.

And look, you were never one to pry, so the details aren't all there, but Wonyoung seemed confident that her father wasn't exactly faithful. The kind of stories you'd normally imagine just being made up by rich housewives who had too much time on their hands—but she told you he had quite the appetite for the kind of services the elite always seemed to appreciate.

"New York?" Yujin thinks for a moment, living in her own head. "I could do New York. Me and you? A girl’s trip. That sounds..."

"But what about the guy?" Gaeul points at you.

Wonyoung puts her hand on your leg, sliding down and rubbing your knee. "You'll stay here and wait for us, won't you?"

"Well, I was thinking that, you know, you could take him with you?" You never saw this coming. Maybe you should, but it caught you off guard. The three of you in the Big Apple for a week? Sign you the fuck up, and then some.

Not that you'd have a chance in hell of affording such a trip. The reality is often harsher than the dream.

"We could, but I don't think it would be fair on Yujin. Unless we..." It takes the others a moment to figure out exactly what Wonyoung is implying.

"No way, don't bring me into this. You already said that it would be weird. We’re too competitive."

They're speaking in tongues now and Gaeul's face full of confusion likely mirrors your own.

"What are you two talking about?" Gaeul questions, for her sake and yours. But before she get's an answer, she's looking out of the corner of her eye. She freezes for a minute and then turns to face the vice principal. She's headed right for your table and the four of you succumb to silence.

There's not many reasons a staff member would visit a group of students while they're eating at lunch. None of you are late with an assignment nor have you failed any tests. Not even a recent school event gone wrong. It must be something worse.

"Am I interrupting?" The Vice Principal stands over your table, looking over the four of you.

You all shake your head in unison, a lock of hair falling over Yujin's face, which she quickly sweeps back behind her ear.

The vice principal points in your direction, pointing right between your eyes. "You. Principal's office. Now."

The eyes of the girls fall on you. All of them shocked by the statement.

It's unheard of to be dragged into the Principal's office on a random Friday for seemingly no reason.

What's your first reaction? A chill in your stomach. Butterflies in flight, soaring. Fingers gripping tight to the fabric of your pants. Heart racing in your chest. Feeling dizzy. Lightheaded.

"Ummm. Can you tell me what I'm doing wrong?"

"You can ask the principal. Move."

***

"Take a seat." The principal gestures with an open hand at the two chairs across the desk from her. She's staring right at you through the reading glasses hanging on her face. Her perfectly pressed suit makes her look powerful—imposing.

And this room? This tiny room, with its uncomfortable hard-backed chairs in front of the big imposing mahogany desk? That's as much of a psychological tactic as it is functional. Because you know this; everyone knows this: the people who sit in these chairs are invariably there to get told off.

This room is designed with a sole purpose; to cause you discomfort and make you feel small. Make you regret your actions. Remind you that this isn't a friend's house, and you don't get to act up here.

"Sit." She insists. The tone of voice is harsh, but you're certain there's an undertow of regret there too. You sit, almost falling into the chair in the most awkward and graceless way. It squeaks under the pressure, but thankfully, no sound comes out of your mouth. Not a peep.

"Effective today. You are expelled from the institution."

What the fuck?

"What the fuck?"

"You will be escorted off the premises immediately. Your bags, belongings and text books will all be packed and returned to you at your registered address."

"You can't do this!" Can they? How is this fair? What went wrong?

"You will not be able to return to campus, as the academic board has taken into consideration the severity and inappropriate nature of the events that occurred on the grounds."

The severity and inappropriate nature...

Her words—they hit hard. Suck the air out of the room, leave your lips dry, and a strange emptiness in your belly. Your fingers grip tight to the armrests of the chair, fighting for a grasp on any emotion—any hope or words to grasp onto.

Nothing.

There is nothing you can say. No reason or explanation you could offer. Nothing.

The walls around the both of you stand, large, impenetrable and collapsing on you.

"The evidence produced to myself was conclusive. You and an unknown partner committed obscene acts last week in the school library. That is grounds for expulsion without appeal."

Unknown partner? Of course.

Now what?

coup de théâtre

Next part

#wonyoung smut #wonyoung x reader #ive smut #ive x reader #male reader smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #Yujin smut #Gaeul smut #Rei smut

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martyrlamb · 7 months

Text

✶ when the clock strikes / leon kennedy

pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: you’re starting to think a certain agent might be faking his injuries to see you.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, a bit of angst as a treat, love at first sight basically, silly workplace love story, nurse!reader, 1 year post re4r!leon, no use of y/n, extremely mildly passively suggestive, leon takes his shirt off twice (woohoo!), kissing, swearing, leon is awkward as hell, you are too though so it’s okay, description of bruises, cuts and a muscle knot (not detailed), medical talk, slight mention of gore and blood, reader has a backstory, reader has a mother.

note: i blinked and suddenly there were 8k words in my doc idek how that happened. im actually so nervous to post because this is my first one shot ever!! my cherry has been popped… but also apologies if things are kind of all over the place bc im still trying to get the swing of it all. trying to write in the present tense was like being beat over the head repeatedly so im sure theres many grammatical mistakes in that department

word count: 8.5k (got possessed sorry)

Everyone thought you were crazy when you accepted the offer.

It is crazy—but you aren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into a long time ago as a nurse; people get hurt, and then you save them. Clockwork.

Years ago, you started studying to be a nurse in some middle of nowhere midwestern school. You remembered the rolling hills and the ungodly heavy blankets of snow that fell during the winter months, the fallen leaves that the snow covered. It was all so peaceful for a while… until the outbreak.

You never saw it coming, no one did, really. At least, you hope no one predicted the atrocities that were about to be witnessed by thousands of innocents without warning.

Gnashing teeth and hands with dried blood that streaked down arms like veins plagued the memory of that point in your life. It was surreal to believe that you got up that morning and made your breakfast like any other day, you slid your shoes on and grabbed your keys, and then your foot hit the front porch and the trajectory of your life changed permanently.

The virus started as a woman with red-ringed eyes and pallid skin that reflected off of the blinding overhead lights—she looked visibly ill. That’s all that mattered at the time. You were actually the one who situated her and her husband in their room, he smiled at you and thanked you for your time and you scribbled down notes before hanging the clipboard and leaving the room for the doctor. The screeching horror music plays when you get to this part of the memory.

A type of calm before the storm. You hold your breath every time.

A few hours later people started screaming, and someone—something ran out of that room and wrenched its grip on the first person it saw. Blue scrubs dyed a nasty crimson, like crushed raspberries on cloth. The next part is a blur of running, watching your coworkers die, and using your medical expertise to help anyone who needed it. People were hurt. You saved them.

Like you said, clockwork. You try not to think about it too hard.

By the time help came, you had cramped a large handful of survivors—albeit, injured survivors—into a small house that was a mile or two from the hospital. Your quick thinking protected many people that day, and your skills were recognized.

A week prior, you were a simple nursing student who was lucky enough to be placed in a hospital, and by the next Sunday, you were being offered a position as a medic with the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. You finished your schooling, you got your specialized training, and now you’re on your way to your first assignment out of the country.

So, granted, maybe you are a little crazy for accepting such a prestigious and dangerous position after your humble beginnings. Your mother never ceases to remind you of this, with what little information you were allowed to tell her.

Iceland? she said, pulling her lips into a line. Are you crazy?

You begin to think that you are now that you stand in front of the base, arms tucked around yourself and teeth chattering as a sergeant points you around like one of his troops. Between the hustle and bustle of agents hurrying around and the amount of civilians sitting beneath the large, brown medical tent, you understand why they needed all the help they could get.

Things in Iceland were bad apparently; Umbrella thought the remote location would protect what little was left of them, and their research, from being exposed. Unfortunately for them, (and fortunately for everyone else) the AUPIT caught wind of what was happening and vowed to put a stop to it. You, freshly out of training, were sent to help with the sudden influx of displaced non-combatants and wounded agents.

Within the hour of the helicopter landing, you settle in and pull your cold weather scrubs on.

There aren’t many other nurses—only two—and neither of them seem to be very fond of you. The head nurse is older and straight-laced, following procedure, not mingling with you unless she has to. You don’t think you’re ever going to be put on a shift with the other nurse, but they spare you a few ireful glances. It’s like they could smell the fresh blood, and the scent made them turn their noses.

Nonetheless, you weren’t there to socialize, so you rolled up your sleeves and did your job, trying to ignore the passive aggressive looks being thrown at you from left and right. This kind of mutual ignorance worked for about three days, until you were placed on the night shift… every single night.

Before you came along, it was determined that the night shift could be manned by one person, as injured civilians were sent to the safehouses by nightfall and nearly all of the agents were either out on work or taking a much needed rest. There was no reason for both nurses to be awake when one could conserve their energy and rest while the other worked. So, most nights you spent alone, sitting by the fire in the back of the tent as you waited for the sun to come up.

One of those nights crept up on you again. You bounce your foot against the ground until your ankle aches, sitting in a lawn chair next to the fire with a wool blanket draped over your shoulders. Nothing chirps in the distance like the environment you’re used to, the only noises that float through the air are the wind rustling bare-armed bushes and your own breathing. There was a rip in the tent whistling, too, but you’d be damned if you let the incessant noise drive you insane. You were scared of the eerie silence for the first few days, but that quickly became replaced by the complete boredom that followed it.

You blow a raspberry as you spin a pen in your ungloved hand, fingers numb and stretched stiff with cold. I’ve ought to ask someone for a book, you thought to yourself, or a new job. You immediately push the second contemplation out of your head like it was something dirty and sat up a little straighter; your annoyance made sense, but this is what you wanted to do with your life. You want to help people in need.

Not that there were many people around.

In the distance, like divine intervention, you hear the crackle of wheels against snow, and a black mini-van rolls to a stop in front of the tent. A scuffle inside ensues for a moment, then the doors open and a man comes hobbling into the shelter with his arm over another man’s shoulder.

You nearly fall out of your seat with how fast you stand up and stride over to the men, assisting the injured one onto a cot.

“What happened?” you ask, pushing a cart of equipment to his bedside.

The uninjured one remarks from beside you, “Some snow gave way and he went down this hill with some pretty nasty bushes at the bottom.” His voice is quick and clicky. He looks young.

Clearly, they’re two agents, judging by the leather holsters strapped around their waists and shoulders. You purse your lips and place a lantern on the cart, gently inspecting the injured agent. There’s thorns lodged along the entirety of his left side, looking a bit like a child’s crude attempt at art with toothpicks and styrofoam.

He grunts when you gently lift his arm to check underneath, and you mutter an apology before you turn to the other agent. “I can take this from here.”

The agent nods and spins on his heel, disappearing into the darkness once he stepped out into the open air.

You turn your attention towards the man in front of you and pull on a pair of gloves, the latex makes a sharp snapping noise when you let go. His intense gaze follows your movements with great intrigue—or suspicion… you couldn’t really tell. You pick up a pair of tweezers and set them on the cart. You also finally got a good look at the wounded agent.

Blue eyes that strike down what little defenses you have and brows that spend their time permanently creased, almost erasing the space between them while he inspects you. His ability to make you feel thoroughly grilled with a simple fixated stare would have made you squirm years prior, but now you merely stare back with your eyebrows lifted. The blonde—possibly light brown haired, the darkness didn’t give much way in the form of colour—man averts his eyes first, as if he is caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive, but that’s not your focus right now.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, flicking on a flashlight to check his pupils. Healthy, good. He squints at you through the beam.

“Like I fell into a thorn bush.”

Looks like someone feels funny. You deadpan at him, unamused with the sarcasm while you try to help. Your expression beckons a better answer and he backpedals.

The man’s head bobs subtly, like a scale in his mind is weighing his thoughts on either side, and then he says, “I’m just fine.”

“Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” you reply, blowing out a not-so-inconspicuous huff of annoyed air that swirls above you in the cold. The agent raises his brow at your reaction but doesn’t seem too keen on speaking on it. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but it’s going to be a lot of poking and prodding.”

He lets out another grunt that could have possibly been an Mhm… but you aren’t sure. You hold the tweezers between your fingers and begin to pluck them out, placing them on the metal pan on your cart. Clink, clink, clink. They fall from the tweezers with tiny noises.

To your surprise, he doesn’t writhe or make much noise, only occasional grunts and sighs and Shit’s under his breath when you pull at particularly deep thorns lodged in his arm.

Even for an agent, his arms are an impressive size, which means a lot more surface area to extract from. Not that you really mind, as you would have helped him either way, but surely you would feel differently if you were in his shoes.

However, the silence is… awkward; sitting there with your face inches from his huge arms—he could definitely feel your breath fan across the surface with how his skin dances with warmth and goosebumps and you do not want the attractive agent to focus on that. So, you break it with a question.

“You weren’t wearing a jacket?” A valid query, all things considered.

He blinks at you like it was obvious. “It came off.”

“Oh,” is all you say until you extract the last thorn from his arm and begin to slide the leather shoulder holster off of him. “I just need to take this off.”

He frowns slightly, and you realize his brows had been furrowed this whole time because that was all his face seemed to know how to do. When his expression changes, you stop.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Taking it off so I can look under your sleeve.”

“Why?”

“You could’ve pulled something and I need to bandage you,” you pause. “Is that okay?”

Maybe you wrongly assumed that he had done this a million times. Don’t get you wrong, you know how resilient agents had to be and how good they were at their jobs, so it isn’t like you thought he got hurt often… But with a short glance into his eyes, you could tell he’s a hardened delegate with years of experience under his belt. Wasn’t he bound to need help occasionally?

The man gives you a slight nod and shrugs off the holster; it falls to the bed with a soft thud from the weight of the knife tucked into the leather.

His muscles tense under your fingers when you roll the black sleeve over his shoulder. The feathered, pale edge of a bullet scar peeks out from beneath the dark clothing and it makes you wonder how he managed to get it. A mission? Probably. It looks old. You’ve seen scars of all kinds at that point, and each of them held a story that ended in pierced flesh.

They remind you that they will never not be where they came from—your own scars will never not be where they came from. You shake the thought out like a stubborn rock in your shoe.

“Lucky you, it doesn’t look like you pulled anything in your shoulder,” you comment under your breath.

“If this is luck, I’d like to see what happens when I get unlucky.” For the first time, there’s humor in his tone—so faint you nearly miss it, but it makes you chuckle. When he isn’t huffing out responses, his voice almost sounds kind.

You rotate his shoulder slowly and inspect the length of his side, finding fewer thorns than the amount anchored in his arm. Still, your lips press into a line, pitying the fact that his bare skin will be exposed to the frigid, below-freezing air so you could remove them.

“Well, you should’ve knocked on wood,” you reply, “I’ll need you to take your shirt off so I can get the rest of the thorns out and check your ribs.”

Silently, the man hikes his shirt up and over his ribs for you, snaking his arm out of his sleeve and then laying on his side.

As he comes down, stretching, he groans. You see his muscles tense under his skin when he inhales, the dips and divots of his torso flex involuntarily when the squall of air nips at his newly exposed skin. The surface holds blossoms of red and deep purple that litter themselves across his ribs like splotches of messy watercolor dripped onto paper. Scarlet scratches bleed pebbles that drip onto the fabric of the cot.

You suck in through your teeth as you inspect the area. Even without the damage from the thorns, it doesn’t look good.

“Not good?” the agent questions as if he could read your mind. From over his shoulder, he turna his head to look at you.

“Not good. You bruised your ribs, I’d be surprised if one of them wasn’t broken.”

“I didn’t hear a crack.”

“It should be monitored for a day or two, at the very least.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Look, I understand—“

“I’ll be fine.”

You sigh softly and remove one of your gloves to rub your face in exasperation. Unfortunately, this wasn’t your first rodeo with stubborn patients, so you slide on another glove and begin to pluck at the thorns in his torso. “You won’t be doing much work if you permanently damage them.”

He twists his head away from you again and grunts softly, muttering a short, “Okay.”

How articulate. You guess he doesn’t get paid to talk to people.

“Okay? As in…?”

“As in, fine,” he replies, then pauses for a moment as if to prove a point. “But I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You laugh at this, then stifle it into your elbow so he didn’t think you were laughing at him. He still rolls over a little to look at you, confusion laces his eyes that dart around as they go from your face to the rows of empty cots behind you. Busy? You begin to laugh again.

He can’t be serious, you think as you fan your face. You let your laughter dissipate like it was being dissolved into water. “Sorry… no, you’re right,” you snort, “I was drowning in work before you arrived, agent.”

“I’m sure,” he chirps back, the ghost of a smile haunts his lips.

“I think I can squeeze you in, though. Might have to clear some of my schedule, but… I’ll make it work.”

The pleased look that graces your face is involuntary. You find it endearing how worried he is about becoming too much extra work for you and the other nurses, despite the fact that there isn’t any reason to gather that he would and—believe it or not—it’s your job.

The agent lets out an amused breath through his nose. “Should I be flattered?”

“Oh, of course.”

You place the last of the thorns onto the metal pan and tend to his wounds with gauze and bandages and nimble fingers that have done this hundreds of times before. Sometime along the way his body relaxed—just a little—and you think he fell asleep until he sits up like a puppet that had his strings yanked and puts his shirt on properly.

The sudden movement makes you blink, and he stares at you for a long pause filled with dead air and an expectant look in his eyes. That damn rip in the tent whistles.

Finally, his eyes flicker down to your badge, then back to your face. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I started here not too long ago,” you inform him honestly, a little embarrassed to admit your newbie title to a seasoned employee of the organization.

He doesn’t say anything else, so you take the reins.

“Well, I think we’re set,” you say, rolling the latex gloves off of your hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Agent…”

You never asked him his name?

“Leon Kennedy,” the agent, now with the name Leon Kennedy pinned to his face, finishes for you.

His name twirls around your head and makes you dizzy to think about. I should have known, you think to yourself once he bids you farewell to report to his superiors.

From what little time you spent at the base prior to meeting Leon, you had heard whispers during dinner drift from mouth to ear of the elusive agent. That he was a man of few words (immense understatement, you consider it more socially awkward, but true); that he had half of the base swooning every time he walked by (you don’t want to comment on this); and that he was immensely attractive (that is also true). You have to admit… you see why he had such an air of intrigue around him. To be so quiet after such successes he’s accomplished—people were on the edge of their seats trying to figure him out.

You also had to admit that you weren’t immune to it either.

During your meals and breaks you found yourself playing Where’s Waldo? with Leon, attempting to catch glimpses of him in his natural state to confirm or deny these claims. Which was impressively difficult for absolutely no reason other than that he did it for his own benefit… the motive for this was lost, and still is, on you.

The few times you did spot him, he had the same clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows. He never stayed in the same place for very long and frequently you only spotted him—or rather, his broad shoulders and white-knuckled fists as they turned corners and disappeared to do whatever he did all day. Important agent things.

Regarding your coworkers… it hadn’t improved much, either. The head nurse, who you later learned was named Winona, loosened up on you a bit—which was practically nothing when both she and the other nurse had been so cold to begin with. However, your determination to help those around you seemed to impress her… most days.

(Peeks of Leon’s ashy blonde hair stolen from cracks in the tent. His fur-lined coat hangs off of his sizable frame, enveloping his arms in the thick fabric—it makes them look even bigger. Not that you care, per say, but—

“You aren’t getting paid to stalk agents,” Winona jeers, jolting you back to Earth from your subject of stolen attention. You swear she smiles at you wryly. “Should’ve tried for one of their jobs if you wanted to do that.”

She turns on her heel and goes over to a trio of injured civilians with her cart, the knot of hair tied taut at the base of her neck stares you in the face. You’re left hot faced and embarrassed for the entirety of the next check-up with your patient.)

The endless night shifts never seem to cease rolling in and you’re afraid it’s begun to catch up on you. By the end of breakfast, when you could finally drag your corpse-like body to your quarters and into your bed, your head drooped comically into your bowl of oatmeal and some of the newer agents had a blast laughing at you. Whatever, assholes.

(You were deeply embarrassed.)

So, you opted for allowing a short nap in here and there during your shift—ten minutes at most—whenever your eyelids began to feel itchy and weighted and you couldn’t help but close them. You really couldn’t. Being sat by the fire with a hot drink made you so warm and the sounds of blowing wind lulled you to sleep in the darkness under the moon.

Truly, a terrible work performance from you, but no one was around to see and surely you’d be awoken by even a hint of an emergency.

Tonight, you count sheep with your wool blanket tucked up to your chin and your head lolls against your shoulder like it’s about to fall off its hinges. One, two, three. They mock you as they hop into their pasture and curl up into white, fluffy spheres, falling asleep within the warmth of their home.

From a distance, your ears almost register the sound of footsteps that approach the tent, crushing the crunchy top layer of snow under their feet as they stop in the entrance. It isn’t enough to completely wake you until they clear their throat and say, “Hello?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head so fast you think it might go flying across the room. Really smooth of you, considering Leon is the one to get your attention. By the smug look on his face and slight chuckle that wracks his frame, you know he isn’t fooled with your act awake performance.

He stands there, towering and rigid, unlike the night you first met him, with his palm outstretched flat like he’s trying to show the world something.

“Oh, hey, what do you need?” you reply quickly, standing from your chair as you let your blanket fall off of you.

Leon glances at his hand and then at you. “I, uh, got a papercut.”

“A paper cut,” you repeat, just to make sure you heard him right.

“Yeah.”

You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape as his words register as something he was actually saying to you.

“Well, get comfortable, then. I’ll patch you up.”

In reality, you’re terribly confused about a special forces agent needing first aid for a paper cut, but how could you complain? He needs help and you’re there to offer it.

The blonde sits on a cot near the fire—not before picking up your blanket from the ground and placing it back on the chair, though—and you situate yourself on a stool facing him.

You take Leon’s hand in yours gently and inspect the wound. It’s fairly shallow, but placed in the center of the webbed skin between his index finger and thumb. Tough spot. When your digits graze his rough knuckles he inhales sharply and you glance at him due to the sudden motion.

He doesn’t expect a reaction from you because he pauses for a second then asks, “You think I’ll live?”

“I dunno,” you answer, sucking your teeth. “Could be a close call.”

“Yeesh.”

“I know. My condolences.”

“For myself?”

“Uh-huh.” You turn his hand over so his palm faced the sky. “This’ll sting.”

When you disinfect the injury, Leon’s face twitches into itself but he keeps quiet, opting to focus his gaze on your face while you patch him up. You try not to shift under the intensity.

“What made you want to do this?” he queries, his voice cuts through the silence and startles you a bit. Leon looks pleased with himself and you roll your eyes.

“You’ll laugh.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s corny.”

Admittedly, it was—the original story as to why you wanted to be a nurse. You’ve had people laugh at it before and you mostly don’t want to repeat history with someone you find rather charming, but something in Leon’s face softens and he shakes his head briefly.

“Try me,” he challenges.

“Oh, fine.” Like there was a fight put up when you relent, smoothing a bandaid over his cut. “You know those things you’d fill out as a kid? Where it’s like, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Leon nods.

“Every single time, I would write superhero,” you laugh sourly because you got used to other people laughing when you said this, but he listens as if you’re the only sound he’s ever heard. “I’d draw myself with a little cape and all that. Then at a certain age the teachers start telling you, pick a real job, pick something that exists. And, I dunno, I thought: there are real superheroes. They save people every day because they want to.”

“I mean, I always knew I didn’t have all the right assets to be the one rescuing people from burning buildings and punching the bad guys. I wanted to help people when they couldn’t help themselves, you know? I can't carry the weight of the situation—it’s just not in my nature—but I can carry them. That’s why I started doing this, I guess.”

The look he gives you when you finish speaking is indescribable. He gazes deeply into your face like he’s trying to find a new feature he missed the first time. Something akin to pulling apart your mind with his eyes as if it’s clay made for the shaping and a load of a melancholy that’s too heavy for him; like he’s asking you, how do I carry it? Tell me how to carry something like that.

Your hand still lingers in his, over the bandaid you placed on him; you slide yours so the curves of your thumbs interlock and you grip the hilt of his palm. A hidden embrace.

Leon’s eyes dart toward your hands and he makes no effort to remove you from his grasp, his fingers relax against your wrist. He feels your heartbeat. You feel his. When he looks up again, all he sees are your eyes.

You don’t know why you went on that anecdote in the first place, not really. Only that you were finished patching him up and wanted—needed—him to linger for a bit longer.

“What about you?” you ask, voice hushed close to nothing.

“I wanted to help people, too.” He sounds uncharacteristic—sheepish? “That’s it… I can’t follow up with something as articulate as you.”

“It matters just as much even if you can’t express it,” you assure him, your head tilts.

Leon clears his throat and nods, slipping his hand from yours and looking anywhere that isn’t you. You created a shadow in front of his face, back facing the fire, but you can see the subtle dark tinge of his cheeks when he avoids your eyes. He chooses to look at his feet. There he goes, being endearing again, you think.

The harsh edges of his face are lit up with an orange glow, darkness shoots somewhere in between in a soft gradient, and he looks positively ethereal. If you reached out and cupped his face, you know it would be warm to the touch like laundry right out of the dryer. It makes him look all the more delicate and this feels more natural than the pointed looks and pinched expressions he usually wears.

You look back down at his hands. You’re trying to memorize the way they felt against yours (coarse and hot to the touch) and you get the picture of how hopeless you are—even an idiot could see you have a crush on him.

That doesn’t stop you from protecting your pride and you keep it to yourself. You stand up to put the disinfectant supplies and box of bandaids away without a word.

Leon stares at his hand like it’s missing a piece.

You have your head buried too deep into the cabinet to think much about that. Screaming at yourself was an understatement for what you’re doing in your head… a better description would be begging the floor to swallow you entirely with one gulp.

Surely, Leon has someone at home. He’s an attractive, intelligent man with an arguably stable job that pays him oodles more than he would ever need; not to mention how well-built he is, but again, for what seems like the millionth time you push this thought to the back of your mind. You could not focus on that.

“Are you okay?” his voice carries from the cot.

You take a moment’s breather and shut the cabinet door. “I’m good. How are your ribs?”

“They’re good.” Leon pauses, then adds. “Thanks.”

The shake of your head comes faster than your words; muscle memory. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You do a good job.”

“I’m just a medic.”

“A good one.”

As you utter your gratitude for his comment, you hope he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your face from so far away. You weren’t one to get shy from such simple words, but you find your eyes glued to your boots because of his gentle bonniness. Damn you, you curse at him in your head—it held no weight.

The blonde stands from the cot and walks over to you. He bends slightly to catch your eyes in his. “I have to go now, but... yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, Agent Kennedy.”

“Don’t start using formalities now,” he half-laughs, half-breathes. His face contorts when he stretches back, and his hand came up to massage his right shoulder—you even go to comment on this movement, being a medic and all, but he beats you to it with a smirk. “Stick with Leon.”

And then, in a few strides, he’s gone as fast as he came.

Your entire body deflates when you let out a guttural sigh. How come every time you watched his back, you were left reeling?

Unfortunately for you, that blasted man had ingrained himself into your head, sitting pretty in your thoughts as snug as a bug in a rug while you tried to do your job, or attempted to focus on anything other than your feelings for him. On the contrary, he returned to clearing out Umbrella facilities for the time being, which meant he was out of the base for days, or even weeks, considering he was one of, if not, the best agent they had. This saved you from the embarrassment of being caught trying to catch glances of him from inside the tent or during meals.

This, however, did not stop you from daydreaming when work got slow.

You wondered how someone like Leon behaved domestically, if he was completely different outside of the AUPIT, or if he was still just the sweet, reserved man who needed your aid often. Did he have any pets? What music did he listen to? You guess you’d have to ask him later, but you imagined that the pieces would fall into place and suit him. They’d be so perfectly Leon that when he told you, you would think to yourself, huh, why didn’t I think of that?

The amount of daydreaming you did was not lost on Winona, and occasionally she snapped her fingers in front of your face and grumbled under her breath, “I’ll kill that boy.” With no real threat to her tone.

Please, you can’t help it. He has arms with the muscle definition of a god and he told you-you were a good medic; you were a goner before you even realized it.

On the other hand, your family never let up with their pleas for you to return home, despite the fact that it simply wasn’t possible unless you had a very good reason for it. Which you didn’t, and you didn’t want to—people just didn’t get it through their heads that, yes, your job was difficult, and yes, patients got on your nerves sometimes, but no, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. This meant more to you than anything else you could fathom. You knew the fear these people felt first-hand, and you knew they needed a saving grace; just like you had.

(“Just come home,” your mother coos into the phone, her voice static-y and chopped from the poor signal. You could imagine her face right now, all worried and exhausted like you’re a child balancing on a wet playground. “There’s a hospital not too far from here… I’m sure they’d take you.

You promptly spend the next hour explaining to her that it isn’t that simple, even if you wanted to, and you remind her every few minutes that you aren’t going to leave, either. You’re happy, all things considered; which is why you make the executive decision to leave out all of the bad parts of your work so far.)

As for the efforts against Umbrella, you hear whispers of successes during dinners and fewer agents appeared at the medical tent’s door in need of assistance than when you arrived. So, you think things are going rather well for your organization. Less tired eyes and solemn faces; the fight wasn’t over, but everyone could rest a little easier with every night that passed.

And yet, those damned night shifts. You swear Winona and that other medic were scheming against you for no reason other than pure spite, on the basis of simply because they didn’t feel like doing it. It has to be funny to them by now, seeing you half-asleep at breakfast and looking all mussed at dinner because you woke up ten minutes prior. You let them laugh all they wanted because frankly, you began to enjoy the night shifts. The world went to sleep, and you enjoyed some peace and quiet.

You kick your feet up onto a stool and drape a blanket over your legs, book in hand. The soft sounds of Icelandic pop music crackles out of the radio and floats throughout the tent. You mouth the noises of the songs, unsure of the lyrics, but you’ve heard it so often by now, you could recognize the tune from the first few beats. You scat a few of the instruments, tapping your foot along. You don't notice the figure that stopped in the doorframe.

“Enjoying yourself?” Leon. You shut your book and turn to look at him, embarrassed. “I always feel like I’m coming at a bad time.”

“Never,” you reply with a haste that humbles you further. Worried about his sudden appearance in the medical tent after being gone on agent duties for nearly two weeks, you ask, “Are you okay?”

The corners of his mouth upturn and you barely see a flash of uneven teeth between the slit it creates, cute. This distracts you from how smug his face is. “I think I have a fever.”

“A fever this time?”

“Yep.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Leon.”

A paper cut, then a fever. You begin to think of his inability to soothe his minor maladies as an excuse to visit the tent. Your stomach flutters at the thought, but you have to make sure… just in case he’d fallen ill out there in the cold.

You find the thermometer and placed it in his mouth gingerly. It hangs crooked from the corner and he watches you with a certain keenness that makes you smile. After a few minutes, you check his temperature: 98.7. An amused hum escapes your lips without meaning to.

“Dying?”

“I don’t think you have a fever,” you answer, using the back of your hand to press against his forehead and cheeks. The first cheek is cold, then the left cheek warms under your skin—Leon’s expression falls bashful. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were looking for reasons to come see me.”

It’s his turn to hum in thought. “Maybe.”

“You could just come talk to me.”

“You’re on the clock,” the blonde reminds you, grunting. In a swift movement, his hand presses into the curve of his neck and he rotates his right shoulder, face straining.

You see an opening. “That I am. What was that?”

“What?”

“Your shoulder.”

“I was stretching.”

“Does it hurt?”

Leon grumbles a response under his breath, unimpressed that you might have found something you could actually treat him for. You raise your brows. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“Agent Kennedy.”

He pretends not to hear you.

“Leon.”

“Fine,” he gripes like a child being forced to get a shot and maneuvers to lay his stomach flat on the cot, his back faces toward the ceiling. He takes off his brown, fur-lined jacket and discards it onto the next cot over. You get a whiff of musk and cinnamon from the breeze it makes.

The shirt that clings to him left nothing to the imagination—a tight, black compression shirt stretches snugly over his muscles. You spread your fingers like fans to warm them up, then begin to run them over his shoulder and along the meat of his back.

You tsk, full of knots. This man needs a masseuse. You make a mental note to refer him to a good one you knew.

With the issue at hand, though, you find an impressive knot in his shoulder, which is likely the cause of his discomfort.

You huff, your work cut out for you. “There’s a big knot in your shoulder, Leon. How are you living like this?”

“I wake up and roll out of bed.”

“I need to get this out.”

Leon turns his head, his cheek presses to the cot. He gives you a look that says nothing short of, are you serious? You smile as sweetly as you can at him, an attempt to coax him. To your surprise, he averts his gaze fast and relents. The blonde agent sits up and shrugs his shirt off. It’s tossed next to his jacket.

Under the fire light and the dim glow of lanterns that hang in a line down the center of the tent, strings attached to the ceiling, you see the way chills prickle over the surface of his skin. Goosebumps, like rolled carpets being kicked open, unfurl down his arms rapidly and he lays down on his stomach once again.

Your face burns in the dark—you’d be surprised if you aren’t glowing like one of those lanterns from the amount of heat it exudes.

You use a dollop of skin cream to keep the area relaxed and pliable as you work out the knot with your fingers. You push it in the right direction until you got it in a better spot, then you knead it firmly. It crackles within his body.

“Fuck…” he groans in relief, nestling his head into the fabric of the cot as he sighs. “They teach you massages in nursing school?”

“That might be just a learned from life thing,” you state in total honesty. You wipe the excess lotion from your hands on a rag.

Curiously, he peers at you from the corner of his eye. “You have someone back home you do that to?”

A laugh falls from your lips, though your face feels even hotter than before (if that is even possible). “No—not at all.”

Leon lets out a pleasant hum and sit up from the cot. Good, he says without saying it.

He snatches his shirt and tugs it over his head; you pretend to make yourself busy so you have somewhere other to look than at him. You hear him sigh with great reprieve as he rolls his shoulder back and forth, it must’ve felt like a freshly oiled hinge.

He comes up behind you, his shoulder skims the back of your neck when he peers down at what you were doing on the counter. Which is a whole lot of nothing; moving cotton swabs from one container to the other, counting how many rolls of gauze you had left for the hundredth time. Mindless hand ministrations to distract you from the heart that pounds in your chest.

“Is this what you do all night?” he questions, mildly amused.

“Sometimes.”

“Must be glad I showed up.”

“Something like that,” you tease, glancing up at him with a coy smile.

You watch his withstraint break a little inside of him. He inhales sharply, losing the words you said somewhere between your eyes and your lips—he couldn’t focus with your faces so close to each other and neither could you. Leon reaches for the hand that rested on the other side of you and drags you in between him and the counter, twirling you to face him. Then he pauses and appears lost, like he doesn’t know which way is left and right.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do, you think. You don’t really know either, so you go on about what you do know.

“You should probably use kinesiology tape on your shoulder,” you comment, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of all of your limbs. His eyes don’t leave your lips. You’d be a liar if you say yours left his.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The man’s body heat radiates off of him and it’s magnetic, pulling you closer, away from the bitter cold. Your breath hitches. His hand hovers over the curve of your neck, then it decides to rest on the side of your jaw, thumb pressed against your flushed cheek. You remember the texture of his warm palm, coarse and calloused from years of wear.

You try to memorize every fine line and crease that scuffs your face as he beckons you to close the gap with the slight tilt of his head. I’d make a terrible agent, my resilience is slim to none, you theorize when your body moves before your mind does. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath traces your cupid’s bow. You close the distance enough that your lips graze each other until someone clears their throat from a few feet away.

Winona stands like a judgmental statue, thin brows raise expectantly. You, and Leon, jump away from each other. It rocks the counter with a loud clatter that echoes.

“Agent Kennedy,” she acknowledges him first as a sign of respect. He nods back awkwardly. “You two look like you’re enjoying yourselves.”

Neither of you talk for a moment and you find yourself desperate to create any word that could explain what that was. Leon’s eyes dart around the room.

Finally, something solid comes to your tongue. “I’m sorry.”

And then she laughs in both of your faces. Her hand waves like it’s fanning your words away from getting inhaled. You and Leon glance at each other, brows knit in honest confusion.

“Kids,” she exhales. “Stop distracting my medic, Kennedy.”

Then he speaks, but it sounds more like a nervous cough. “Yes, ma’am.”

Winona shoos him with a gesture of her wrinkled hand and he musters a sheepish, apologetic smile for you as he hurries away from the tent. You don’t make much of an effort to move as you prepare your ego for the chew out it’s about to receive.

“And you. Try to keep the fraternization out of the tent.” With that, she continues past you to search through some files, snickering to herself and shaking her head.

You aren’t about to push your luck. You get to keep your job and ego intact, and that’s enough for you. So, you whisper a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.” And go on with your day.

The encounter with Leon left you feverish and all tingly in every limb whenever it crossed your mind over the following days. You saw him out and about around the base, and during meals he offered you frail waves that faded in a breath.

Truth was, you’re too afraid of rejection to ask him about that night—go figure. Maybe you’re a cliche. Maybe you’re both cliches. Who cares? Well, you do, and you thought the ruffled, pink-tinted expressions on Leon’s face whenever you crossed paths meant that he did, too, but neither of you made a move to approach the other. You questioned if you would rather be told that his only plans for you was a short work fling with no strings attached, or if he felt the connection that you did. A terrible predicament, really, and soon your desire for a straight answer outweighed the fear of hearing something you didn’t like.

When you went to find him in the meal tent, sitting alone in one of the back corners, he wasn’t there. Okay. You waited, then decided to check the nooks and crannies of the base where you knew he hung around, and nothing. Leon vanished into thin air the moment you gathered enough courage to speak to him. Somehow you thought he read your mind and planned for this to happen, just to be able to tease you without being present. But that was simply ridiculous. He had to go to work, just like you had to do yours.

A week went by, then two; no sign of Leon’s reappearance cropped up and you began to worry you wouldn’t get the chance to speak to him at all. The only reminder that soothed you was the fact that you knew the organization was on the home stretch for completely wiping Umbrella’s power in Iceland. This reassured you for many reasons. Mainly, that you’d be able to sleep in your bed again at a proper time that didn’t leave you exhausted; but you also found comfort in the idea of finally getting a word with the blonde agent that clung to your brain like a disease once everything was over.

Of course, you had fleeting thoughts that he died and you’d forever be left wondering about what could have been. But, that was just ridiculous—he’s Leon Kennedy, the agent that saved the president’s daughter from certain death. So, you chalked it up to your anxiety being built up as doubt about the succession of the mission began to be put to an end. That yes, you would all return home soon, and no nothing terrible and tragic would happen just as you were about to win.

Eventually, you all received the verdict of the mission. Success. The sun shone through the clouds brighter that day, in ribbons of gold that elevated all of your senses to something dreamlike. Another catastrophe prevented. More people saved—clockwork. To say you were pleased with the conclusion of your first ever out of country operation would be an understatement; you were ecstatic.

Still, you find yourself fretting over that thing with Leon as you help pack up the equipment in the medical tent.

Winona, who has grown increasingly engrossed in your love life, gives you a knowing look when your lips tug downward and you send a pointed glance toward the entrance of the tent for the tenth time in the last hour. She tsks and shakes her head. It gains your attention.

“Just talk to him,” she insists, shoving a couple boxes of bandaids into the case. She’s unimpressed with your antics and just wants you to get a move on.

You sigh and preen your hair like he’ll walk in at any moment. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Hopeless,” she grumbles in response. “Hopeless. If you won’t do something about it, stop looking at the door like a kicked dog and help me.” Winona retreats further into the tent and you succumb enough to follow her.

You must glower the whole time because she won’t stop sending you dirty looks while she tapes the cardboard boxes with a tape gun. Her movements are threatening. You try to fix your expression when the line of spokes reflects off of the bright horizon outside the tent as it slices the tape.

After the innards of the tent are packed into a dozen or so boxes, you’re the person left to pick them up one by one and drop them off with the rest of the cargo that needs to be shipped. Your back is sore from the sorry excuses of beds you have and your arms ache from hours of cramming things. Kicking snow with each shuffled step, you heave out a lengthy sigh and pause to breathe. There’s a reason I’m not an agent.

“Need a hand?” Leon asks from behind you. You’re wondering how he’s always sneaking up on you.

Still, you nod and can’t help but be relieved. “Please.”

Like it’s filled with air, he takes the box from your hands and cocks a barely-there grin at your awed expression. Smug and content, he marches ahead with you in tow. You don’t really know what to say to him, if anything at all.

You walk alongside him for the first time in the daylight, and you take in his features now that they aren’t muddled in the darkened firelight or blurred by distance. He’s chiseled, sunken cheeks and high cheekbones with that intense look on in his eyes—but there’s something else—boyish, is what you think. Soft jaw. Moles and freckles litter themselves across his face.

Leon is beautiful and you would like to kiss him right now.

He stops at the drop off point, places the box next to the others and turns to you. Suddenly, he looks nervous and you feel some resolve escape your mind. He’s about to ask you something. He opens his mouth, rosy lips parting and you break—you pull him behind a tall stack of boxes and kiss him.

The collar of his jacket is clutched between your fingers in a moment and your lips are on his; the fur tickles your skin. His lips are chapped and cold but you create warmth within him, you could be a summer’s day in this frigid air. His hands come to your waist, then your hips and his fingertips make indents when he holds you tight like this was always supposed to happen. When you part, you’re both breathless.

He searches for his words again, the question he was going to ask. “Would you—dinner? On me.”

You hum in faux thought and peck him on the lips again, then again, and a third time for good measure. He smiles into the last one.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t start that by saying you stubbed your toe and needed my help.”

Leon chuckles. “I thought about it.”

He pulls you in again, tongue grazing your bottom lip. You lean in further, desperate for connection until you both go slipping like baby deer. The thin layer of snow on the ground left everything icy. He tumbles into some supplies and you land on top of him. You’re both laughing into each other’s mouths. You’re both happy.

You chime together, like clockwork.

#leon kennedy #resident evil 4 #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #re4r leon #re4 remake #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy oneshot #fluff #oneshot #resident evil fluff #nurse!reader #nurse!reader x leon kennedy #post re4r

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lilbitdepressed27 · 23 days

Text

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader She’s the Man AU

Summary: inspired by she’s the man, with a few changes

Warnings: Chad’s a bit of a jerk but nothing else really

WC: 9.3k

Author’s Note: sorry for any mistakes. Hope y’all enjoy:)

"What?!"

"Sorry girls but I can't really do anything about it."

"But we win more games than the boys do!!"

"Yea what the fuck why aren't they the ones getting cut."

"What?! No you don't, you guys just face other girls that don't know how to play."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You couldn't believe you dated him. To be fair you had been sexually confused for a long time. Battling your inner self to be true to who you were. Frankie was your ex boyfriend and you honestly wanted to slap yourself every time you looked back at that relationship. You honestly didn't know what you were thinking.

"Oh really you guys haven't won a game since like what freshman year?" You backfired. "Can't even win a game against the schools rivals, Woodsboro Panthers." The boys in front of you glared at you knowing that it was always a touchy subject. The team had always been sore losers.

"I'm sorry girls but we have to practice unlike some people." The couch and the boys laughed as they walked away.

The girls team was left standing on the field feeling a mix of emotions. You were beyond pissed and there was absolutely nothing you could do.

You had been walking home, your music blasting in your ears. You had been extremely bummed out, your dream had always been to play soccer in the big leagues. Wanting nothing more than to play with your idols. Couldn't really do that if your school doesn't have a girls team. You would have to transfer to another school that does have one but you'd doubt that your parents would let you. The closest school would be Woodsboros, but they also didn't have a girls team.

The sudden pull of your jacket had you stumbling back. "Ah what the hell!" You turned around taking off your headphones. Only to be faced with your brothers girlfriend.

"Anthony-Oh ew it's you."

"What do you want Sherrie."

"Where's your brother. When you see him tell him to call me."

"What's the number, 1-800-BIYATCH." You laughed to yourself.

"Whatever. Just tell him."

You laughed as she walked away and went into the house.

"Wait what do you mean you're leaving?" Your eyes followed your twin brother (although you didn't really look that much the same, there was similarities but you were a bit taller then he was. And the much better looking twin) he was moving back and forth from his bag and his closet.

"The band got booked to perform in fucking London. Can you believe that?"

"London? As in London England? Wait, what about school. Don't you start next week?" You were sat on his bed strumming his acoustic guitar.

"Oh right, I wanted to ask if you can cover for me. You know, use that mom voice of yours and I don't know make a call or something." He closed his bag and packed one of his many guitars. Once he was finished he looked at you with a smile.

"Wait, what about mom and dad?"

"One of the ups of having divorced parents. Mom thinks I'm with dad. Dad thinks I'm with mom. And they both hate each other too much to call each other." Throwing two of his bags out window, followed by his guitar.

"And what about your girlfriend? I don't even know why you date her."

"Cause she's hot, it's a guy thing. Well, I'll see you in like two months, maybe more." Anthony smiled and left through the window.

"Anthony!"

"Oh were you talking with your brother?" The sudden voice of your mother startled you.

"Uh yea, on the phone. What the hell is that?" You used the horrendous dress that your mom was carrying as a way out. If clearly worked when your mom beamed down at you.

"It's your dress. For the-Ugh mom." You groaned, knowing what she was going to go on about. "I said I'm not doing it. There's no way I'm putting on a dress. Literally the last time I wore one was when I was two. I'm not doing it." Standing up and putting your brother's guitar away.

"I don't know even know why I keep trying." She said as she walked away. You rolled your eyes and stood up. Looking into the mirror. Your brothers picture to the side. You picked it up and held it up. You never understood how you were related to him. Let alone a twin. You truly never looked alike. You were a bit taller than he was. And honestly stronger as well.

"Well if you can't beat them. Join them."

"Ha. You're funny." The hairdresser laughed. Kirby shook her head as she continued to cut her clients hair. Looking back at you, only to stop laughing. "Oh you're not kidding. Wait you're serious."

"Yea come on Kirb, I have a point to make. And I can't do it if you don't help me. Quinn, Anika back me up." You looked back at your best friends.

"Yea come on Kirby. The coach and the whole school in general think that girls can't do half of the things boys can do. They kept the stupid boys team and they don't even win!" Quinn spoke, she was still heated on the matter. Although she didn't have the same dreams as you, she still wanted to support you.

"Yea Kirby, they even got new uniforms and lockers for the boys team. A losing team might I add again." Anika voiced from your side.

"Come on Kirby please." The three of you spoke simultaneously.

The elderly client butting in. "Yea come on Kirby."

With a laugh Kirby laughed and nodded. "Fine."

"Damn. You make one fine ass man." Quinn whistled when you stepped out. You so badly wanted to scratch your head. The wig was something you'd have to get used to.

"Shut up. Do I really look like a man?"

"Yea one hot ass man." Anika joked as she stood next to you, reaching up to fix your wig. Quinn laughed from her seat as she ate her popcorn.

"Okay. Now we got the walk. The talk. Tomorrow you start. Remember be confident. You got this. We got all the paper work ready, oh and also. Remember to respond to the name Anthony. Anika literally tried to get your attention using your brothers name, and you didn't listen. Cause you have to get used to it." Kirby said as she got some of the popcorn from Quinn.

"Okay. I got this. I got this."

"I don't got this. Take me back. This was a stupid idea. Don't you ever let me come up with any more ridiculous ideas ever again. I can't believe you actually listened to me. You never listen. I can't believe I came this far. Well it's far enough. Take me back-Y/n stop!"

"Relax. You got this, now suck it up and get your shit together." Kirby handed you your bags and pushed you towards the entrance of the school.

You gulped and took a deep breath in trying to calm your nerves. With a look of encouragement from Kirby you made your way into the school.

Going into the boy side of the dorm rooms had been everything you expected and more. It was literally your worst nightmare come to life. The smell alone was enough for you to want to turn on your heels and leave. A mixture of body odor and a tone of axe spray. But you had to do this. You now had a point to make and you were going to make it.

You've never moved so fast to make it to your dorm. Slamming the door shut once, the relief of being in the safety of your room was washed away when you felt eyes on you. You were quick to straighten up and eyes wide as you looked at the three boys.

Clearing your throat, remembering to deepen your voice. "What up. Y'all must be my roommates." Nervously fumbling with your keys.

"Uh na I'm your roommate Chad. This is Ethan and that's Wes. They live next door."

You nodded as you put your bags down. Trying to swallow the anxiety that you felt coming up your throat.

"Yo what's your name?"

You turned around to look who was talking. Wes sat on the window seat playing with a ball.

"Anthony Y/ln, so you play the beautiful game bruhs, bros? Brothers?" You had tried to remember how boys talk but at the moment your mind was going blank.

"Yea, Ethan midfield and Wes plays defense and I'm a striker. What about you?"

"Center Midfield."

You cleared your throat as you got unpacked your bag. Taking out your boots, only remembering the tampons you shoved into the boot when Chad pointed them out.

"Dude why do you have tampons?!"

"Uh. I get really bad nose bleeds?"

After the horrifying and embarrassing display of you shoving a tampon up your nose. You were left with a big sense of regret. As the boys laughed and mocked you.

So far it's been alright.

That's a big fat lie. So far it's been hell. Things are horrible. The first try outs were today and man. You'd think it had been your first time playing. You had always thought you were great at soccer. It was a sport you loved. You had played it for the longest time. Now you wouldn't go and say you were horrible but you had a lot to learn. Especially since you made it on to the second string. That had been disappointing.

"Good job boys. Nice work, for the second strings don't feel discouraged. You are just as much on this team as the first stringers. Now go hit the shower. I'll see you guys tomorrow." Coach Loomis spoke before leaving to his office.

Showers?!

Crap! How could I forget about the freaking showers?!

You tried to think of any possible reason why you wouldn't be able to. You'd didn't really want to see anyone naked. Let alone a bunch of immature boys. But the closer you got to the boys locker the more you were starting to panic.

"Y/LN! Principal Riley wants to talk to you. So get a move on." Coach yelled from his office.

You had never felt so much relief like you did this moment. Never moving so fast to get out of a room before.

The talk with the principal had been one of the weirdest and most awkward talks you had ever been in. As you walked out of the office you felt your body collide with a smaller body.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" The sudden action causing your voice to come out normal before you could even realize. Moving to help pick up the books the shorter girl dropped.

"It's okay."

You looked up, only for your breath to hitch in your throat. The girl in front of you was so, beautiful. Completely gorgeous. The faint freckles that littered her face, made you want to count every single one. Her dark brown eyes, were so mesmerizing that you could get lost in that pool of dark chocolate. Her small smile had your heart hammering in your chest. The dimples that appeared had to be the cutest things you had ever seen.

"Uh here's your books." You cleared your throat deepening your voice, the smile that she directed your way was enough for you to almost go weak to the knees.

"Thanks. You're the new transfer student, right? I'm Tara."

Tara. What a beautiful name. You returned the smile, "Y/-Uh Anthony. It's nice to meet you Tara." You held out your hand for her to shake, at the sound of her giggle, your smile grew just a tad bit. But the moment her soft, small, warm hand was in yours it was like your hand was made to hold hers. At the sight of her blushing cheeks, you pulled your hand away, clearing your throat.

"Well it was nice to meet ya Tara. I have to go and do some, guy stuff. Uh I'll see you around." With a nod you were quick to walk away. Part of you hoping you'd run into the Tara again.

"Dude this is not working. Who knew making friends as a dude could be so hard. Not to mention that I'm starting to smell. Kirby how could I forget about the showers. My roommate is a bit of jackass and-Alright take it easy. I can help you with the making friends situation and the shower problem. Let me just get the girls I've got a plan." Kirby cut you off before hanging up, not giving you a chance to respond.

"Kirby? Hello? Ugh, I hate when she does that." You mumbled. The past two days of being a 'man' have been a little bit harder than you had expected. Your roommates along with his friends are bit of jerks and clearly didn't want to be around you.

It wasn't long till, Kirby showed up with Quinn and Anika. Who had bright smiles on their faces. You hurried to get in the car. "Oh I've miss-oh wow you stink." Quinn cut herself off, pulling away from you.

"Don't remind me. Now what's your plan?"

With feeling fresh and clean, you walked into the restaurant with a new found confidence. You knew at least half of the students and soccer team were in the place at the moment. It was great for Kirby's plan, 'Make friends plan'. Her own way of making friends for you was well, "the boy way". That's why she had brought Quinn and Anika.

"Fuck here comes Anthony. Spread out so it looks like we don't got room." Chad nudged Ethan to the side as they spread out in the booth. It wasn't like he hated the guy but since the tampon moment in their room. He wasn't in a rush to make friends with his roommate.

"Oh my god Anthony Y/ln! Oh my god I've missed you so much."

Chad was pulled from his conversation with Ethan to see a red haired girl. She was hot.

"Quinn. Hey baby, how you doing?"

Chad couldn't understand how someone like Anthony could have girl like this one. The guy was weird. He acted completely strange. But here he was with this hot girl. Eyes widening a bit when the girl lightly kissed Anthony on the lips before leaving. He heard Ethan chocking on his soda when yet another girl, just as hot, called out to Anthony. The way this dark haired girl refused to let him go. Only leaving when Anthony slapped her butt.

"What the fuck? Did those two just talk to Anthony? Him?" Wes spoke in pure disbelief. There was no way. Seeing a hot brunette coming his way. He took his chance. "Hey there pretty lady."

"Ew. Are you talking to me?"

"I was just- Yea sure let me make it clear, girls with asses like mine don't talk to boys with faces like yours."

The two teammates shared a look, trying to hold in their laughter at the face Wes was making. The one of pure embarrassment.

"I'm looking for my boyfriend Anthony Y/ln."

The three boys jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Fuck it's your brothers girlfriend. Don't let her get too close or she'll recognize you." Kirby had spoken so quickly you barely had time to understand before you heard Sherries obnoxiously loud voice.

"Wait what?"

"Anthony!"

"Oh fuck uh be gone you craziest-" You felt a small sense of fear as you tried to dodge Sherries attempts to get to you. You had gone as far as using a stack of pizza boxes to cover your face. "Can't you take a hint. If I don't answer your phone calls or your texts. It could only mean one thing. We are done!"

Sherrie had acted like you expected. Leaving with scream of anger and most likely embarrassment. You were relieved on the other hand. Your cover was not blown. You heard the cheers and even felt the acceptance of your schoolmates.

"Dude that was awesome."

"You're officially my idol."

"Make room for the man."

Like Kirby had predicted. The plan had worked. You had the "respect" of your teammates and the school. Although you kinda felt a little bad for Sherrie. Even though she's been nothing but a bitch to you. You also didn't stink that was good. You had gotten used waking up super early in the morning. Getting the showers to yourself.

"Hey Anthony."

You turned at the sound of your brothers name. That was also something you kinda got used to. Being addressed as your brothers name and not yours.

At seeing who called for you, it had you smiling in a way you couldn't really control. "Tara hey. How are you doing?" You faced the shorter girl. She returned the smile as she looked up at you.

"I've been good. I haven't seen you around the past week. How's the school treating you." Tara had tried to see Anthony around the campus. But the campus was huge. She hasn't even got a glimpse of Anthony which was extremely disappointing.

"Oh it's been something else. I like the campus though." You looked down to what she was holding and it was stack of what you could clearly tell were heavy books. You reached for them without really realizing that you were. "Let me help you with those." You didn't really give her a chance to decline before taking most of the books.

"Thank you. But you didn't have to." Tara could feel the warmth coming from her cheeks. She could only hope that Anthony couldn't notice.

"It's okay, now what are you even studying that requires you to carry so many books." At sound of her laugh you smiled, her laugh was so sweet.

"Oh I've been transferred out of my class into another. Apparently I was too smart for that class."

"Nice, a smart girl." You teased smiling in satisfaction when you saw her blush. "No but seriously, aren't you running for class president?"

"Yes, I'm been elected to run. It's nothing." She looked away from his gaze. Her own mother had been dismissive of her achievements. She hated the feeling of being a disappointment. She's tried not to let her mother's words affect her but, it's her mother. The harsh words are bound to have an affect.

"Are you kidding? That's great, you were elected, which that alone is awesome. Don't sell yourself short. But don't worry future Ms.President. You have my vote." The smile you got in return was something you'd cherish. You hated how sad she had looked for a just a second before the look was gone.

"Thank you. That means a lot. Well this is me." Never had she felt so disappointed to arrive to her class. She had wanted to keep talking to Anthony. The way he acted around her was in a way no other boy has. He didn't treat her like she was just a piece of meat, like she was just some type of trophy he could show off to his friends. He was different from the other boys in school. "I'll see you later?" Hoping her voice didn't come off as hopeful.

"Of course. Later Ms.Future President." With a small bow you handed her books and walked away. Smiling when you heard her laugh.

Arriving into your biology class was something you weren't looking forward to. You hated cutting open any animals or anything that was once alive. Taking a seat as your roommate and his friends took a seat in front of you. The boys becoming your friends was also something new. Ever since that day at the pizza place your popularity had grown.

"Dude I keep forgetting to ask. But how long did you date that girl?" Chad asked as he took a seat in front of his roommate.

"Too long-Alright pick a name out of the bowl and who ever you have will be your lab partner for the rest of the year."

Taking one of the pieces of paper from the bowl you unfolded it. Smiling at the sight of the name. "Tara Carpenter." You looked up, searching for your brun-the brunette that was becoming your favorite. Eyes connecting with the beautiful chocolate eyes. Oh how you loved chocolate. Seeing the smile on her face as she looked at you. Sending a small wave.

"Dude you know Tara Carpenter? Switch with me." Chad couldn't help the small sense of jealousy at the way the girl he liked was looking at Anthony.

"Yea and no cause I said her name out loud." You gathered your things and moved to table Tara had moved to. Placing your bag on the table as you sat down. Leaning forward just bit.

"Hey Tara. I gotta be completely honest with you. The whole dissecting thing freaks me out, so I think you're gonna have to take the reins on this one." You whispered to her. Hoping no one else heard you.

"Wow I don't think any other guy would have admitted to that."

"Crap, you're right." Your eyes widen as you looked down at the paper with a cut open frog. The feeling of wanting to barf came strong.

"No no. It's okay. I got you. I'll take the lead." Tara wanted to wipe the frown on his face. It was such an adorable look but she also wanted to comfort him, so she reached for his hands, taking his hand into hers. His hands were so soft. Not like any other boy's hands she's touched. The warmth and softness of his hands made her want to hold on to them longer.

"Uh no papers from other classes on the table." A boy you e never seen before said, paper was pushed in between in your face and Tara's. Seeing the color of the paper. You quickly tried to grab it but Tara was quicker.

"Oh what's this poems?"

"Lyrics. They're hi-my my old stuff."

"You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be. And I don't wanna go home right now."

You sighed in relief, realizing it was a song you wrote for your brother to sing. He wanted a romantic song and your were such a sucker for them.

"This is really good."

The way she was looking at you had your throat in a knot. Feeling like she could read your mind by the way she was staring intensely into your eyes.

As you walked out of the classroom you were pulled by the back of your shirt. "Dude what the fuck Chad!" Pulling your shirt from his grip.

"Anthony my guy. Did you tell her anything about me?"

"Who Tara? Was I supposed to?"

"Come on man. You could convince her to go out with me."

He looked so serious you couldn't help but laugh. "Dude you've been going to school together for, how long? I don't think she likes y-Come on! If you help me. I'll help you train to make first string for the rivalry game."

"Wait what? Seriously?" You were good, but apparently not good enough to make first string. And you had something to prove. You couldn't be distracted by anything. Not even a pretty brunette. It wasn't like Tara liked you.

"Okay, I'll tell her all about Chad Minks and how he's a great dude. But I won't force her."

"You're the man Anthony!" Chad cheered, this was going to work. He knew as much. He just needed someone to sweet talk him up to Tara. Then he would be the hottest guy dating the hottest girl in the school.

Training with Chad was fun. The more you trained with him. The more if felt like you were getting better than before. The love you had for game had always been big. Always trying to improve your self in how you play. With Chad's help you were a whole lot prepared and skilled during practices.

As for helping with Tara. It was coming along. Well the best it could without sounding pushy about the situation.

"So when can you let me read the rest of that poem?"

You were brought out of your thoughts at the sound of Tara's voice. You tried to avoid the frog that was cut open in front of you.

"Poem? What poem?" You teased, smiling when she squinted her eyes at you.

"Ugh you suck. I'm going to get you to read it to me one day. You just watch."

"Now, I heard from your friend Amber that you like someone."

"What?" Tara felt her eyes widen. She was going to kick Amber's ass when she sees her. Amber wouldn't tell him, that she liked him right? The feeling of her heart racing as she watched Anthony write down some notes before looking right at her with those soft y/ec eyes.

"Yea, is it by any chance Chad Minks? Cause I've seen what the way he looks at you. I mean I can see it."

Seeing the disbelief and was that disgust? You weren't sure. Reading people wasn't something you were really good at.

"Chad?"

"Yea."

"No."

"Yea."

"No! I mean he's good looking and all but he's just not the guy for me." Tara had tried to like Chad. He was what most girls wanted at the school. But every time she looked at him, she felt nothing. Chad was just like every other jock that has tried to get into her pants. Only wanting her for her body. She had seen how Chad was with Liv. Liv had been so in love with Chad. But the moment Chad got bored he left Liv. Liv had been left heart broken. Tara had gotten used to blocking out any guy that had tried to hit on her. Most of the guys (if not all of them) had always succeeded in making her extremely uncomfortable.

"Hmm I don't know maybe there's more to him than you think there is." You hated yourself for even bringing it up, you could tell this conversation was annoying Tara.

"So he's not just another dumb jock, who wants to get in my pants. So he could tell his friends but is too-Insecure to treat you as an equal?" You understood how she felt. It wasn't long you were also dating a dumb jock.

Tara looked at the taller boy in shock. Never had she met someone, let alone a boy, understand what she had felt. Seeing him agree had honestly left her feeling baffled.

"You know you are the first guy at this school who hasn't tried anything with me."

You felt you cheeks heat up as you cleared your throat, "Oh uh I'm not really looking for another relationship. Just got out of one that was a bit, hard I guess? You're a great friend Tara. You're actually the only person in this school I feel comfortable around."

Even if she felt a bit more that just disappointed that he only saw her as a friend. She offered him a smile. "I feel the same way about you." Her vocie coming out softer than usual. Looking into those beautiful y/ec eyes. It was enough for her to get lost in them. Even if he only saw her as a friend. She could work with that.

"Good, and just take my advice. Chad's a pretty cool dude, get to know the guy."

"I'll consider it." She was most certainly not going to. She watched as the soccer player tried to focus back on the task at hand. The cut open frog they still had to be dissected. The cute grossed out facial expression on his face was too cute for her to ignore.

"So what's that exactly?"

"Uh I think that's the spleen." A small noise of acknowledgment was all she got in response before she saw Anthony fainting and falling to his side. With a chocked laugh she was quick to check on him.

"I honestly thought you were joking about the dissecting thing freaking you out this bad." Tara couldn't hold back her giggles as he finally woke up. She had been worried at first. But the more she remembered the face the soccer player made, the more she couldn't help but to laugh.

"Ugh." You sat up, realizing you were now in the nurses room. You felt a little warm inside to see that Tara was sitting next your bed. Wondering if she was sitting there while you were out cold.

"How are you feeling? Down to dissect more frogs?" This time Tara couldn't help the full belly laugh.

As much as you tried to keep a straight face, a smile made its way to your face. You really liked the sound of her laugh. Her smile, the dimples you liked so much being on display. "You're so mean."

Tara brought up her hand to cover her mouth. Trying to control her laughter. "I'm sorry."

She looked utterly beautiful. The sun coming from the window shined on her like if she were an angel. All you wanted was to kis-Uh oh. No. No you couldn't be falling in love with Tara.

You couldn't.

"Yo! You okay? I can't believe you passed out over a cut open frog." The laugh that followed was nothing like Tara's.

"Yea whatever. But I've got you half way. She's considered going out with you." You flopped on your bed, looking up at the ceiling. Falling in love was not part of this plan. You couldn't for many reasons. One being the most obvious, YOU WERE A GIRL! For starters. You were a girl pretending to a boy, pretending to be your brother. Tara was obviously straight. And if you did show any signs of liking her, it would be misleading. You were a girl.

Tara was straight.

"Wait really? So should I go ask her out?"

"What? No!" Trying to ignore the jealousy you felt coursing through your body. "You don't want to freak her out."

"Ugh I hate the waiting game. I've been waiting for the past years. Since 6th grade. That’s five whole years. You have no idea how long I've wanted to, to date her. She's the hottest girl in the school."

You narrowed your eyebrows at your roommate. You won't deny that Chad is a great soccer player. He was outstanding on the field. And he was nice enough to help you out to make first string. But other than that you weren't really sure why he was so eager to be with someone who clearly didn't like him back.

"Wait what do you mean? You think he doesn't like you?"

Tara groaned into her pillow. As much as she enjoyed being with the taller soccer player. She couldn't ignore the small little voice in her head telling her that Anthony didn't like her back.

"I don't know Amber. He's not like any other boy I've ever met before. He hasn't even flirted with me. Not even once!" She chose to ignore the laugh coming from her best friend.

"What? There's no way. Every guy here has flirted with you at least once." Amber has watched for the past days how this guy had her best friend hooked with just his presence. She won't deny the guy was kinda good looking. But there was something about Anthony that was making her sexually confused? Amber was a proud lesbian. There was no denying that, but she had gone soooo long without finding any boy attractive. Not even when she was little. But now Anthony Y/Ln was a first. Now she didn't like him in that way like Tara did. But there was something about him that was familiar. She just couldn't seem to know what.

"Wait really?" Come to think about it, Amber has not seen Anthony flirt with any girl at all. Every time she saw him he it was always either during class (which he did really pay attention to) and then during the soccer practices. "Wait you don't think he's gay do you?"

That thought had never even crossed her mind. The thought of Anthony being gay had her sitting up straight to face Amber.

"What? No! There's no way-I mean, I don't know. Oh my god let it be me to fall for a guy who could possibly be gay." She groaned even louder as she covered her face with her hands. If Anthony was gay, she would have to move on. Or she could just ask. He did have those two girls at the pizza parlor. Not to mention that crazy ex. But if that were the case. Maybe he's bisexual. Or just now gave up on the girls and just wants boys now.

Ugh. It was just her luck.

"What's up Anthony."

You looked away from your open book. You had finally gotten away from Chad and his friends. A moment of peace away from those boys was what you desperately needed. They were rowdy and fun but you could only take so much before you wanted to pull your hair out.

"Sup Amber. How's it going?" Amber was Tara's best friend. You liked Amber. She was always putting Chad in his place when he tried to flirt with Tara. It was always a funny sight.

"Eh it's going but I gotta ask you something." She moved to sit next to Anthony.

You closed your book and looked at the shorter girl. "Sure what's up." You moved to grab your water bottle to take sip.

"Are you gay?"

The water burned as it went up your nose, you spluttered out wet coughs as you tried get your breathing back to normal. You took the napkins Amber offered you. "Jesus Amber. No I am not gay." Well you were. And as funny as it would be for these students to believe your brother Anthony was gay, you weren’t that mean of a sister.

"Really? Not even a little bit?" Amber did not feel convinced for the weirdest reason. She just couldn't put a finger on it.

"No not even a little bit. Why?" You let out a chuckle once you had your breathing under control and you were no longer chocking. Gay?

"Well can you blame a girl for asking." So he wasn't gay, Tara did have a chance. Amber couldn't help but to feel excitement. Mingling is something she was great at.

You hated being here, carnivals. Absolutely hated them. Clowns were literally your worst nightmare and those things were everywhere. Not only did you hate clowns. But you absolutely hated that you had to change from being you to your brother. So you opted to just staying as you for the remainder of the day.

"Wait they thought Anthony was gay?" Anika asked again once she was finished laughing.

"Anthony gay? Girl he is as straight as they come." Quinn laughed as well, the girls along with Kirby had arrived at carnival before you did. You mom had called the moment you arrived and said you were signed up for the kissing booth. Part of you had never felt so offended and angry. You were not going to be kissing no strangers. No matter the cause before hanging up.

"Any cute girls there?" Kirby nudged your shoulder as you walked around. Noticing the blush on her younger friend. "Oh so there is. What's her name?"

"Stop. There's no-Liar! Come on. Tell us." Your two best friend nudged and pleaded to know. You rolled your eyes although you were smiling.

"There is on-" You were cut off by someone bumping into your body. You were able to catch them before they fell. "Oh I'm sorry."

At the sound of the voice, the voice that sounded awfully familiar! Tara furrowed her eyebrows before looking up at the person. Only for her eyes to widen in shock. The girl standing in front of her looked exactly like Anthony. Almost like a spitting image. "Do I know you?" She couldn't help up to ask.

"Uh no. I don't think so. Sorry." You moved to walk around Tara. As much as you wanted to talk to her as you and not Anthony. You couldn't, not without blowing your cover. You were quick (but not too quick to make it weird) away.

Kirby and the girls were quick to follow you. Noticing Anika sharing a long stare with one of the girls. "Oh my god was that her!" Speaking once she was far away from the short girl.

"Would you shut up, and yes that's her." Your cheeks flushing at the teasing grins that were looking your way.

"Dude she's cute!" Quinn shook your shoulders in pure excitement.

"You should totally try to get w-No, she's straight. And I don't know if you know this but I'm a girl." You shook her head, continuing your walk only to see Chad and Frankie fighting. You were quick to run to the scuffle. Trying your best to pull the two dude's away from each other.

"Frankie stop!"

Chad turned around at the voice, opening his mouth to say something he had been momentarily distracted enough for Frankie to hit him. Making Chad stumble into you. You caught him right when the security showed up. Quinn and Anika pulling you away before you could get in trouble.

"Hey are you okay?"

You were standing to the side, after being yelled at by your mom. It wasn't even your fault but you let her yell at you. The girls had gone to get food while you waited. The sound of Tara's voice you looked towards her. She offering such cute shy smile.

"Uh yea I'm okay. Thanks for asking." You murmured, you weren't sure why you felt so shy now. Maybe it because you weren't sure if Tara would like you as Y/n and not as Anthony.

"Are you related to Anthony Y/Ln by any chance?"

"Yea he's my twin brother."

"Wow you guys are crazy alike. It's almost uncanny. How do you know Chad?" Tara couldn't get over how you looked so much like Anthony. Ever since she bumped into you earlier that day. She couldn't stop thinking about you and Anthony. She had always been comfortable with her sexuality. She had always said she was bisexual. And right now was a good example why. Anthony. He was so charming, so sweet and just so funny. Honest. You. You were honestly the most beautiful woman she's ever seen.

"Yea we get that a lot. I'm Y/n." Sticking out your hand for her to shake.

"Tara." Tara took your out stretched hand. Your hand taking hers in a gente but soft shake. She looked down at your hand, it was awfully the same as Anthony. Down to the same softness that she has grown to like.

"Damn that guy who beat up Frankie was kinda hot, wasn't that your brothers roommate." Quinn asked as she wrapped her arms around yours, interrupting whatever was happening between you and the short girl. From the corner of her she was able to see the same girl that had bumped into you looking right at you. Maybe that girl wasn't as straight as she seemed. "Hi I'm Quinn."

"Nice to meet you. I should go back to my friends. It was nice meeting you Y/n." She couldn't stop looking at you, she hoped that it wouldn't be the last time she saw you. A past of her also feeling a bit of disappointment seeing the red head being so close to you.

"Dude, what? What's on your face." You spluttered with your words at seeing the tampon up Chad's nose. Part of you wanted to laugh.

"Oh this? Yeah I grabbed one of your." He pointed to the tampon as he got up. "And they actually work." He took the bloody tampon out and threw it away.

"Dude what happened?"

"Well turns out the dude I fought was your sister's ex. And man she looks just like you. It's kinda scary. I mean I have a twin but we don't look that alike. She's kinda hot. Is she single?"

"Eh we get that all the time. And yea she is but she's gay."

Chad's shoulder visibly deflated. "Damn."

"I thought you liked Tara?" You narrowed your eyes slightly. Hoping it wasn't noticeable.

"I do. But I can admire another woman. And your sister is hot. Can't believe she dated a douche bag like Frankie." He didn't even do anything to the guy and Frankie had just lost his cool. And Chad wasn't one to back down.

"Yea, everyone gots at least one person they regret dating." You laid on your bed. Remembering how Tara finally met you as your true self.

"Hi Anthony." You looked away from your homework to see Tara sitting down in front of you. You were once again in the library.

"Hey Tara. How was the carnival yesterday?" You closed your book, focusing on the way Tara was looking at you. She had the same look of when she was studying something. In this case she was studying you. Which was making you quite nervous. "You okay tar?"

Seeming to be snapped back to reality. Tara nodded, "Yea sorry. It was fun. Why weren't you there?"

Shrugging in response, "Crazy ex showed up and wouldn't leave me alone so I just ended up leaving."

"Mmh, I didn't know you were a twin." Tara couldn't get over how much Anthony and his sister looked alike. It was truly uncanny. It was like she was looking at a man version of the girl she saw at the carnival.

"Oh you met Y/n? How was that?" You wanted to know what she thought of you.

"She was sweet. We didn't talk long, her girlfriend showed up."

"Girlfriend?"

"Yea this pretty red head."

You let out a laugh. She thought you were dating Quinn. You love Quinn she was one of your best friends. "Oh you mean Quinn. No that's just my sisters best friend."

Having a weird sense of relief, she wasn't even sure why. She had just met you. Why did she feel jealous. She had no reason to feel this type of jealousy. "Oh. They just seemed close."

"They've been friends since they were in diapers. They've just had a close bond since like forever."

"That's sweet..Wait didn't you kiss the red head?!" The memory had been shoved right to the front of her brain.

"Oh...yea. Uh.." Think faster!! "That was more of a friendly kiss? Quinn was just trying to help me break up with my girlfriend at the time. Sherrie was-is crazy. She was also kinda of a bitch to Y/n."

At the mention of that girl being mean to Y/n. It had her feeling, protective? You had looked so nice. Your soft y/ec eyes held some type of warmth. She wanted nothing more than to talk to you again.

"Y/LN!" You jumped up from the leg press machine. You had been working out with Chad for the past hour. The game against your school was less than a week away. And you have been training hard. The practices have been a lot more easier now that you knew how to play like a man. Chad had been a great help.

"Yes coach?"

A jersey being thrown at you. You looked down at the jersey. Your last name stitched on the back of the jersey along with a big number name below it. You felt your eyes widen in shock and excitement.

"You're first string for the rivalry game."

"Really?"

"No I was joking, you idiot." Coach Loomis said sarcastically before walking away.

You couldn't contain your excitement. Jumping up and down. "Yes!" Chad laughed as he shook his head.

"Congratulations man."

"Oh I know. Ask out Chad, like in a friend date. But don't let him know that, do it in front of Anthony. See how he reacts." Amber looked at Chad and Anthony from across the gym.

"But I don't like Chad."

"Which is why it will be a friend date. But you'll tell him that on the date."

Tara debated the plan. She really liked Anthony. His personality, his attitude, the way he was around her. It was so refreshing. So pure.

"Okay."

You couldn't stop smiling. All your hard work was finally paying off. Your point that you were trying to make was almost done. Wanting finish your workout before calling the girls.

"Hey Chad."

You both looked up to see Tara in all her glory standing there. Looking at Chad.

"Tara! Hi."

You could tell that he was nervous. With a quick look from Tara. You sent her an awkward thin lipped smile. Hoping Tara couldn't tell how jealous and dejected as you seemed.

"How about we go out on Friday."

But she did. She could see how the happy glint in his eyes faded as soon as she mentioned the date. She watched as Anthony turned around fiddling with his phone.

"Really?! I uh mean. Cool. Yea cool I'll see you Friday."

You hated yourself for feeling so jealous. You hated it. You had no right to feel jealous. Tara was straight and clearly giving Chad a chance. You had to focus on the bigger picture. So you tired to do that.

Staying late at the gym before the big game tomorrow. You didn't know how long you were until you saw the time. Figuring you needed some good nights rest before the game tomorrow. With a quick shower, you made your way back to your dorm room.

You had expected for Chad to be home so quickly. You were sure he would still be out with Tara.

"So are you gonna tell me the truth?"

The truth? You looked at Chad wide eyed. Did he know that you weren't a boy. You were sure you had been good at hiding your true self. Maybe your wig had fallen off while you were sleeping.

"Uh truth?"

"Yes the fucking truth."

He seemed angry, well you assumed he had a right to. Maybe he felt a little weirded out that girl has been rooming with him for a while.

"Okay, I'll tell you the truth. But just know that I did this cause I had to prove something. I've always loved soccer and-What so you use me to get better at soccer and then what steal my girl."

You were confused now. What on earth was Chad talking about? "Wait what? What are you talking about?"

"Dude stop lying I saw you!" Chad knew he may have been overacting. First he was a bit mad and disappointed that the date hadn't gone as he had hoped. The date had been so awkward and he had just felt so uncomfortable, and top off the date Tara had told him she didn't like him in that way. When he had seen Anthony, his so called friend kissing Tara. He had felt so betrayed and extremely jealous.

"Saw me do what?"

With his anger at an all time high. He had pushed Anthony out of the room without any further explanation. Slamming the door in Anthony's face.

"What the fuck?" You were left confused. With no where else to sleep you walked away towards the library. Hoping that it was open.

"Yo Anthony! What are you doing here?!" Jumping up from the chairs you had pushed together in a form of makeshift bed. "The game is about to start."

This had you almost tripping over your own two feet as you ran out of the library towards the boys locker room. Confusion taking over as you saw your uniform was gone. Fumbling with your phone hoping to find some answers.

Tony: thanks for unpacking my things and making my room. You're the best sis

Tony: why did you sneak tampons in my drawer. Jerk

"Fuck."

You could only watch from the safety of hiding under the bleachers as your brother destroyed all your hard work. He truly was a horrible athlete. It was like watching a baby trying to walk. If anything a baby could probably play better.

Sighing in relief as the whistle blew out signaling the ending of the first half. Watching as the coach Loomis spoke to your brother. Banging your head on the metal. Your brother walked past the bleachers and you took this opportunity to yank him under the bleachers.

"What the fu-Y/n?"

"Dude what the hell are you doing?" You punched his arm, he was supposed to give you a heads up before coming back.

"Ow! Me? Why are you dressed like me?"

"Ugh I was trying to prove to our old school that a girl could be just as good as any boy on the damn team. Can you believe they cut the girls soccer team and not the boys?"

"Wait what? But the girls team win more games?" He knew how much you love the game. There was never a game he would miss when you played.

"Wait, what are you even doing here?"

"Oh!" Remembering what had happened last night. "There was this girl. She kissed me. And even though it was only a second cause when she pulled away from me and looked at me like I was stranger. But I came to look for her cause she was hot."

"That's what Chad was talking about." You mumbled to yourself. "Give me back my uniform. And stay hidden.”

“Wait what do you mean you kissed him?” Amber asked as she looked away from the game. Half time had just started and it looked like Anthony was being given another chance. She had never seen someone play so horribly. It was almost laughable.

“Yea I did.”

“Then why do you sound disappointed? Shouldn’t you be happy, you have been crushing on the guy for a while now.” She looked back at the match. The second half time hasn’t started yet.

“I don’t know. I felt nothing. He usually makes me feel so much but last night, it felt weird like I was kissing a stranger. His lips weren’t as soft as they looked.” She didn’t really remember seeing his lips last night. But she remembered seeing those lips everyday. They had always looked so soft so kissable. The lips she kissed last night were not soft.

“Well I’ve seen him practice and he looked great during practice. The way he was playing in the first half, it might as well have been a stranger.” Mindy spoke up from her spot. There was no way Anthony was playing like newbie when he had trained so hard to make first string.

Quinn, Kirby and Anika shared a look. They were sitting behind the three girls. Maybe the short girl wasn’t as straight as they had assumed.

The second half was going a whole lot better than the first half. With you scoring the first goal with the help of Ethan. The stadium bursting out in cheers. The score now being 1-0.

You could still fell the hostility coming from Chad. He refused to look at you, going as far as to not even passing you the ball. This caused him to lose the ball. Leading your old school to score. Tying the game.

“Dude come on I know you’re mad but let’s put that aside for the next forty minutes.” You made the mistake of placing your hand on his shoulder. This caused him to push you away.

“Get your hands off me.”

“Chad come on-” you were pushed again before Ethan and Wes held him back.

“Do you two little princesses have to step off or something?” Hearing your ex’s voice was not what you needed. Hearing his obnoxious laughter along with his teammates was almost ruining the happiness you felt. “Do you ne—Y/n?!”

You didn’t want to look at him. Cause now you were for sure made. The dream you had of proving yourself was burning down. With a heavy sigh you turned around. Seeing Frankie’s eyes widen in shock. Knowing the act was over. You took off your wig. Hearing gasps from literally everyone.

“You’re a girl?!” Chad asked no longer angry. He couldn’t believe he just physically pushed a girl. And his push hadn’t been gentle.

“Yea sorry about the lying, I had a point to prove.” You moved your gaze towards your coach. He had his arms crossed.

Hearing the laughter coming from Frankie and his teammates, even his coach had laughed. “You can’t play with a girl. It says in the rule book.” The coach said smugly. This was when coach Loomis stepped up. Taking the book from the other coach.

“What rule book? Here in Woodboro we don’t discriminate. Based on gender.” Coach pointed his finger at the other coach’s chest. And you knew it hurt based on how the other coach stumbled back and how rubbed the spot.

“Alright then. You think you can beat us with a girl on your team. Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

With a wink being shot your way by Coach Loomis you smiled excitedly. You couldn’t believe he was going to let you play. You quickly put your hair up in a ponytail so it wouldn’t be in your face. You were now more confident more comfortable.

Winning the game had been everything and more. The way Frankie had run off crying was so funny, extremely hilarious actually. You had been told off by your parents like you had expected but you could tell they were proud. Especially your dad.

You also watched as Chad was being down talked by your brother. Probably telling Chad off for pushing you earlier.

“All this time you were Y/n?” You turned around to see Tara standing there. She had not looked mad or anything. It was more a of curiosity.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I know it was misleading and wrong. For that I’m sorry.” You fiddled with your fingers. Upon hearing laugh you looked up towards her. Her smile brighter than before.

“Are you kidding? If anything I need glasses. Cause wow. Also sorry for kissing yesterday. Kinda thought you were her.” Anthony walked back to his sister and the hot girl, although a bit dejected he was happy you were happy. He had never seen you so happy yet nervous at the same time. By the way Tara was looking at you. He knew she felt the same way. With a dismissive wave he smiled and walked away.

“So? You’re not mad?”

With a shake of her head, she took your hand in hers. “A little bit, but that’s because I was so sexually confused, then you came along and I’ve never been so confused. Now I’m just hoping you feel the same.”

With the smile of your own you grinned back. “I’ve never felt so sure Ms.President.”

With a giggle of her own she wrapped her arms around your neck and brought you down for a long awaited kiss. Now these lips were soft. These were the lips she had been dreaming about. The feeling that had been absent were now there and going crazy. Just like she had wanted.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!!” Amber yelled. There had been no way she found a boy attractive. Especially since she had the biggest crush on her best friends sister. But that wasn’t relevant.

#tara carpenter x reader #scream #tara carpenter #fem!reader #x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #she’s the man au

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belphieslavenderscentedpillow · 2 months

Text

Obey me Boys as students

Thank you for the love on my other posts, every reblog, note and follower is appreciated!

Also feel free to request something!

This is more of a human high school AU, so there is more human talk than devildom.

There is a bit of Nsfw in asmodeus part, but other than that it’s pretty fluffy/maybe crack?

Lucifer

Straight A student, what did you expect?!?

But I’ll tell you, he’s honestly kind of annoying to be in a class with

He’s such a suck up without even ACTUALLY TRYING to be a suck up

When the teacher makes a mistake he 100% corrects them with no shame

But he’s still somehow a teachers pet

People hate him because they wanna be him fr fr

I honestly don’t think he’s naturally academically intelligent like belphegor or interested in subjects like Satan

The only reason why he actually tries is probably because he thinks failing academically is embarrassing

That being said I think he’s a hardworker, always practicing and learning

Definitely pulls all nighters regularly to finish assignments

Favourite subject is probably physics like a granddaddy

Has a very simplistic pencilcase in black with an ink pen

Mammon

Literal class clown

HE is the reason why class is low key fun

Everyone keeps saying he’s annoying but high key miss him when he’s not there

That being said he’s incredibly charismatic

I think he’s got lots of friends in class cause he’s super easy to be around and he’s funny asf

he’s probably one of the kids on the teachers “hate list”

Literally always gets picked on from teachers

Always goes red when they point out his mistakes but he turns it into a joke

I think he’s an average student but is crazy good at like music or something artsy

He’s that one kid who always ALWAYS forgets his stuff

If he’s lucky he might have a chewed up pen somewhere in his bag (maybe)

He’s definitely a pen biter you cannot change my mind

Leviathan

Oh boy

He’s a very shy kid, and honestly most people forget he’s there

Even the teachers which is kind of a good thing honestly

He sits in the back of the class and does his work calmly

Never talks like NEVER

Probably has one good friend in ONE class who he goofs off with but I think that’s honestly it

That being said there’s def some type of popular demon crushing on him

He has potential to be above average academically but I don’t think he cares enough

I think his favourite subject is art because he gets to practice drawing boobs I mean he gets to practice anatomy

Has a bunch of cool stationary from animes

Definitely has some sanrio type of stationary that he NEVER shares

Satan

A student that gives 110%

He would literally be the perfect student because he has this amazing combination of politeness, academic intelligence and actual academic INTEREST

would be if he didn’t absolutely despise all of the teachers

He knows more than the teachers so sitting in class is incredibly boring to him

Thinks the teachers have no teaching ability and knows he could teach this class better than them

He is such a good student for being such a bad student if you get what I mean

Super organized but not at all at the same time

Polite but disses the teachers- really it depends on the day

He loves all subjects but I think he’s a biology or maybe a literature guy wink wink

someone hc him to send answers in the groupchat while cussing them out- that is 100% Satan

He‘s probably super popular I mean, smart, pretty and a romantic- can’t get better than that! (Well lets skip over the anger issues)

Asmodeus

Your residential play boy/fuck boy!

But just add sweetness to the mix; like he makes sure the person knows his intentions before starting anything with him

That cute boy in class that has a bunch of friends and is super popular for an ACTUAL reason

He does literally EVERYTHING but pay attention

He‘s still a teachers pet though

Probably fucked a teacher to get through the year

Has a bunch of stationary and has really pretty notes even if he doesn’t know what anything means

His favourite subject is probably geography or design (art)

Beelzebub

Jock. What more is there to say?

He‘s not your typical jock, cause unlike all the other jocks he’s actually humble

(The sport bring fangol obvi)

That being said he’s crazy popular, because he’s athletic, cute, sweet, friendly and humble

People are all over him all. The. Time.

Yeah sure he might not have a whole bunch of brains and his grades are below average but at least he’s cute right???????

Yeah he’s not much of a academic person, like AT ALL- he only likes PE, maybe a little bit of art (cause it’s easy)

The teachers surprisingly don’t really care all that much about him- just a random student 🤷‍♀️

Belphegor

This little shit

He‘s that kid who is a genius for no reason what so ever

He reads the paragraph once and never again and still gets an A++++

He barely pays attention in class, skips like 60% of the time and still rivals Satan

Lucifer and Satan get pissy about it because he doesn’t even TRY

His fav subject is math because it’s just understanding a few rules and that’s it

His favourite saying is „mathematicians are lazy“, please tell me your teachers told you this too

He is so charming for no reason, and that makes him a little shit

All he has to do is smile and the person just melts

That being said a smile from him takes a lot of effort

He never takes his stuff to school so he just asks another person and they never hesitate to give him stuff

Teachers just don’t care about him since he barely shows up anyway 💀

Diavolo

Literally cannot focus in school

He‘s like a jock mixed with student body- super charismatic, super hot and reallyyyy popular

He‘s that one friend who has like a gazillion friends and says hi to someone every 2 minutes

But when he’s in class he cannot focus to save his life

At home he’s a mashine- finishing task after task but in school he gets distracted over every little thing

He has so many expensive items, shoes, pants, stationary EVEN HIS SOCKS

Nr.1 crush for literally anyone

Favorite subject is any social subject really

He‘s a pretty average student but his teamwork ability make him stand out

Teachers gossip about other students to him 😃

Barbatos

Straight A student, no one knows his methods

Diavolo is his best friend even if they are polar opposites

Very well liked, by students, teachers but he only willingly talks to diavolo and his crush we all know who wink wink

Very well organised, always has his stuff

Even the way he wears his uniform is neat

He‘s so mysterious…… which makes him kind of hot honestly

He probably doesn’t care about the attention though

Simeon

Ugh literally the perfect student

Smart, kind and charismatic

Literally a teachers pet

Probably is in a whole bunch of clubs

I could totally see him in the drama club

Favorite subjects; drama and literature

He probably reads shakespear in his lunch breaks

He never cusses in class- even when the teacher gets on everyone’s nerves

He has so many friends! Seriously it’s hard not to like him

That being said his weakness is computer science

Yeah not really his strong suit

Luke

Poor baby gets teased relentlessly

He is super cute though

is such a sweetheart genuinely

Don’t be mistaken if anyone actually has the guts to bully him, his 11 family members are ought to get them

He works really hard to get good grades and make Micheal and Simeon proud!

He‘s in the baking club and his favourite subject is probably science honestly

Solomon

This little shit (#2)

He‘s such a mixed bag of different student traits

He‘s lazy, but hard working

Social but introverted

Super popular but gets hated on

His favourite subject is science specifically chemistry

If you are in his chemistry class he‘ll pull some chemistry pick up lines to annoy you

He‘s also in the baking club which makes Luke get cold sweats every night

Also a huge shoutout to @kkeromenoo , thank you for the love!! Sadly I can’t respond to the comments 😭 someone pls tell me how it works..

I just also wanted to say sorry for the fact that 1) this post took so long and 2) some of the characters are shorter. Probably will edit this later, but again hope you enjoyed!

Proofread!

All credits go to @belphieslavenderscentedpillow

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canthelpit0 · 17 days

Text

Enemies (With Benefits) PT4

Pairing: Cold!Chris x Reader

Wordcount: 4K +

Summary: Chris and reader have always been enemies ever since they’ve known each other. neither knew why they had this burning feeling in their gut. So one day they decide to fuck it out. Until, eventually doing it regularly

Warnings: Smut, language, mentions of insomnia, mentioned nightmares/dreams, slight facial dysmorphia (if u squint), mentions of crying, slightly toxic, party, use of y/n, nickname (cherry), pet names (ma, sweetheart, etc), fight (not graphic), switching, unprotected, creampie (she’s on the pill)

(A/N: hope you guys like this! got the idea from this request. Tysm again <33)

PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 FINAL

Everything with Chris is so unnecessarily complicated.

Why does he act like a little bitch sometimes. Coming to my house, begging me and than being all sassy and annoying.

I let out a harsh scoff when I accidentally smudged my mascara a little bit. Rolling my eyes I pick up a make up remover and a cotton pad to clean up my mistake.

I’ve gone back to ignoring Chris, for my own sake. And he’s stopped attempting to talk to me fully.

I’ve been sticking to Ethan a lot recently. Just staying by his side and all.

We were both invited to this party. But we were both gonna Uber there separately.

I was thinking of getting wasted tonight. I haven’t done that in a while. The last party I’d been to was the party Evelyn forced me to go to.

Evelyn and I haven’t talked much, due to me distancing myself. But she hadn’t tried to reach out either. I’m sure though, that she’ll be at the party.

Having finished my make up now, I look at myself in the mirror. I color corrected my red eyes from crying, well. That as Well as my dark eye bags from sleeping bad.

I was never the type of person to cry a lot. But recently… i was crying because of Chris. But I hate him. Yet he was making me cry, wishing that he was here to comfort me

I hum a tune that’s been stuck in my head.

I just wanna rub my eyes harshly, and just start crying again. I’ve been dreaming of Chris. All in different scenarios.

Sometimes we fucked, cuddled, or even argued. Other times he was with charlotte; or someone else. And other times I was with someone else and saw him in the corner of my eyes.

I’ve been sleeping bad at night, so occasionally I’d have naps after school. Wich didn’t really help much since I’d dream again.

I sigh staring back at myself. And it feels like the more I stare into the mirror, the more my face morphs and changes. That doesn’t look like me.

I purse my lips. My hands slam on my vanity as I aggressively get up.

I let out a harsh sigh moving away from the vanity.

I get a notification from my phone, notifying me that my Uber is here. I snap out of my trance. Honestly I’m so glad that that caught me off guard because I actually might’ve broken that mirror if it hadn’t.

I grab my tiny handbag and shove my phone into it. Then I just walk outside.

Once I’m in the Uber again I drift away in thought.

Chris had done nothing but mess with me, since I’ve known him. Since forever.

Now I’m in my tiny dress, my ass probably showing slightly when I walk, and I’m gonna get laid from someone other than Chris.

Maybe I can obsess over someone else.

And maybe I can finally remember that Chris is not the only human with a dick. And not the only one who can use it.

Before I knew it we were already there. I could hear the slight music from outside blaring into the car.

I tip the dive and finally get out the car.

I heard the car speed say behind me. While the house party in front of me had loud obnoxious music playing.

I swing open the door. I sigh at the tight crowd of people and just decide to card through them.

I’m getting Deja vu from this really. But last time I’d been here I’d seen Chris almost fuck charlotte, and than proceed to fuck me.

Chris..

Chris?

I raise an eyebrow staring back at a person across the room. He was dancing a solo cup already in his hand.

Okay so I was extremely late, so what.

I need to stop going to parties ‘fashionably’ late. By the time I arrive everyone is already wasted.

I purse my lips pushing through the drunk teenagers to get to the kitchen. From where I was standing I could still see Chris.

I need to stop thinking about him.

But how could I do that when he is just a few feet away, probably drunk and dancing with charlotte.

I turn to the counter grabbing some random liquor and pouring it into a, presumably, clean solo cup.

I down half of it in seconds. I need to feel the rush. I need to get drunk.

Honestly I could go looking for Ethan, but than I’d probably hang out with him in the backyard and smoke all light. Or I could find myself some good dick.

★ ★ ★

After a good few drinks I was dancing with some dude. I don’t know his name, and I don’t care to.

This would be a simple hook up.

Before I know it he starts to guide me outside mumbling something to me about how we can fuck at his house.

And honestly I don’t know why I let him drag me out of the party.

I don’t really want to hook up with him, I want Chris. But I won’t stop him either. I don’t care to.

Suddenly we stop walking. And within seconds I feel his hands off of me, and a loud cry echo through the night air.

I turn around to see what’s happening.

It was Chris. He’d punched my possible hook up guy. My mouth falls open. I want to say something. To tell Chris to fuck off and leave. But I want Chris.

I don’t pay attention for one second and suddenly the guy is on top of Chris beating him up.

I can see from their faces that Chris had gotten a few punches in too though. The guy was taller and bigger than Chris. And I remember something about him being an American football player or something.

Chris manages to flip them around beating up the guy. They wrestle on the ground while I just stand there stupidly and watch.

My drunk brain was processing this way too slow.

Suddenly I see Ethan come into my field of view trying to separate the two on the ground, without getting involved.

I feel another presence next to me. And it’s charlotte. The girl looks as shocked as me. but she also looks more sober.

I snap out of my trance, my slow brain having finally caught up.

I put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder to tell him to back off. And once he does I pull them apart. And they let me.

I yell at both of them about how stupid they are to make a scene like this. Both of them look down in shame.

I turn fully standing in front of the random dude. I slap him across the face and tell him to fuck off.

After that everything is a blur really. Once I somehow got Chris to my house, and up the stairs without waking my siblings, we stand in my bathroom.

Chris is sitting on the closed toilet seat. I sprint downstairs really quick to get him some ice, because, half his face was definitely going to be blue by tomorrow.

Once I’m back I put some alcohol on a cotton pad gently dapping it in his skin as he occasionally takes in harsh breaths.

“Why would you hit him?”

I sigh. That’s the first question I’ve asked since we’ve gotten here.

He holds the ice on his cheek, while I tend to a wound on his forehead. He wasn’t cut up too badly though. It was just a fist fight after all.

“Because he was going to take advantage of you” he scoffs as if the answer to that was obvious.

I purse my lips. Honestly I was subjecting myself to it. I was literally begging for anything, I would’ve been fine with that.

“You had no right to intervene.” I purse my lips. I take the alcohol from the sink and put it back in its place in the cabinet.

I help him up. Chris wasn’t walking bad, I just wanted to touch him.

We walk to my bedroom where he sits down on the bed, and I once again stand between his legs.

I take the ice out of his hands to look at his cheek to see how bad the damage is.

And after a moment I feel his arms wrap around my waist. He berries his non-bruised cheek into my stomach.

“You don’t get it cherry” he sighs, relaxing more as he touches me. “He was looking at you in a weird way.”

“Like what?” I ask. My hand goes to his head. I card my fingers through his messy brown hair.

“Like an object.” He mumbles so lowly, I barely even understand it.

“Oh and you don’t?”

The question is asked flatly. I just look down at him blankly not thinking anything of it.

“No.” He pulls away to look up at me. He looks at me like he is insisting he’s telling the truth.

“I may be rude, but I never look at you like you’re an object.” He scoffs at the accusation. He rolls his eyes hard.

“You don’t?” I ask flatly, not bothering to even act surprised. As much as in hate Chris, he doesn’t treat me bad. Necessarily. He’s just a dick.

He grumbles disagreements turning his face fully into my stomach as he keeps holding me closer.

He starts to complain about his head hurting, and how he fought someone for me and whatever.

I pull him off of me slightly. I was still holding the ice in my hand. It was a bunch of ice cubes I had put together onto some towel.

I slowly sink to my knees between Chris’ legs. I look up at him through my lashes.

“Want me to take your mind off of things baby?”

I ask in a mildly mocking way. But I was dead serious.

Chris lets out a shaky breath. He tugs his shirt off, quickly throwing it off to the side. “Please” he sighs out.

I tug at his belt trying to undo it slowly, to tease him more.

“God I’ve missed you so much.”

His breaths are shaky. His eyes close for a moment. He was getting so worked up and bothered already.

“Have you?” I ask teasingly. He purses his lips slightly staring down at me. He undoes the button on his jeans and finally slides them down.

I help him take them off fully. Then I toss them away.

I look up at him watching him, as he sat only in his boxers in front of me.

“Fuck, you gonna be all submissive like last time?” I mock still looking up at him.

“Cherry, don’t tease please.” He sighs looking down at me.

I stand up quickly and turn to face away from him. Since the dress was a halter dress. I pull my hair to my from teasingly.

“Be a sweetheart and undo this for me real quick.” I don’t wait for long. His hands find my upper back undoing the string of the halter.

I turn back around again letting the top fall, revealing my lacy bra underneath.

I wiggle the dress around a little bit to slide it down. I slip out of it and then kick it away. I was standing in front of him in my matching lacy bra and thong sent.

His eyes trail my body. He looks hungry and needy. Looking submissive as ever.

I lean down to help him take his boxers off. And once he does I sit back down between his legs.

I look up at his dick. And it’s the only one I’ve seen in a while. It’s the only one that I’ve ever found pretty.

Never thought that was possible. But here we are.

The tip was the same red as he has on his cheeks. He was painfully hard and it had pre cum leaking.

I cup it in my hand starting to teasingly slowly jerk him off. “Y/n/n, cherry, please” he whines loudly, to wich I stop my movements.

“Chris” I hiss under my breath my expression harsh. I slap his thigh for a moment to catch his attention. I squeeze his cock lightly.

“My siblings are home. Shut the fuck up”

I hiss. Usually I wouldn’t mind, but my siblings are younger than me. 4 and 5 years. Me being 18, they’re 14 and 13. They don’t need to hear my childhood friend that they have also known for ages get fucked.

“Sorry, sorry” he huffs under his breath. I watch as Chris leans back in his arms looking down at me.

I take one of the ice cubes from the ice in the towel. I then proceed to put it right on his aching tip.

He flinches at the contact of the cold ice in his burning hot skin. I grin at the reaction, watching the way his dick twitches.

“You’re such a tease” he scoffs, to wich I just chuckle.

I drag the ice cube down his shaft before putting it back on the towel with the other few ice cubes. I knew it was gonna melt but honestly I couldn’t care less.

I start to jerk him off slowly again. I lean down to place a peck on the tip, and then proceed to suck him off slowly.

I swirl my tongue only keeping the tip in and staying teasingly slow.

I hear Chris let out a sharp huff, throwing his head back.

“Come on, ma” he says under his breath. His hand snakes into my hair, Slightly gripping at it. And then he harshly pushes me down, making me deep throat him for a second.

I choke on it for a second. Chris starts to move my head, yanking on my hair. I was deep throating him roughly.

I keep my hands on his thighs and pull off. “Don’t” I huff pushing away his hand from my hair, And then smoothing it down again.

I go back to licking a teasing stripe up his shaft, before I go back to deepthroating him, jerking off what I can’t fit in my mouth.

“Ma- I’m-“ he sighs. He was leaning back on his arms his head thrown back. He was trying so hard to keep his moans and groans minimal and as quiet as possible.

I pull off and chuckle. I kiss up his sensitive shaft while looking up at him. Then I get up and hover over him.

I connect our lips in a deep passionate kiss. And while I continue kissing him I lean over starting to straddle him.

Still while kissing him, I start to slowly sink down on his length making both of us moan.

When he bottomed out in me I pull away. My hands go to his shoulders as I just sit there for a moment.

My cunt was aching at the stretch. I had to get used to it again, since we hadn’t hooked up in a while.

I haven’t hooked up with anyone other than Chris in a while. And the last time I had it was not nearly as pleasurable as when I did it with Chris.

“So good for me, baby” I mumble under my breath leaning in more as I wrap my arms around his neck.

His hands trail over my thighs to my hips to hold me.

“Just for you ma.” He mumbles back. We’re so close I can feel his soft breath in my face. He just looks so kissable right now. With his lips plump and swollen like that.

“Oh yeah? Didn’t get pussy from someone else, hm?” I say again my tone low and harsh.

I start to gently grind into him. His hands on my hips don’t stop me or help me either.

“Fuck-“ Chris’ breaths are heavy as he tries to keep his voice low. “You’re the only girl I’ve been fucking.” He admits lowly, the blush on his cheeks only deepen.

“Oh, am I?” I mock as I start to slowly lift myself. I start to ride him, his hands on my hips only being there to steady my movements.

“God- you’re gorgeous” he breaths out staring up at me. His eyes stay locked on mine.

One of His hands starts to trail up my side. And once he reaches my bra, he pulls my body closer to him so he has better access to undo it.

Both his hands back down to my waist now actually helping me ride him harder.

I clench my teeth my moans coming out as sharp breaths as I try to keep quiet. I’m doing a better job than Chris is though.

I put a hand on his mouth to muffle his groans further.

“God- you’re doing so good for me baby.” I pant under my breath, still trying to keep as quiet as possible. My hips pick up pace even more. I continue moving, his tip pressing against my cervix repeatedly.

He mumbles back an agreement, my hand still keeping him quiet.

I continue to ride him at a harsh pace until I feel the knot in my stomach get tighter, ready to snap.

“Chris- I’m so close-“ I breathe out trying to keep myself from moaning.

Chris gently takes my hand from his face putting his own hand on my mouth to muffle my sounds.

“C’mon ma, come for me” he bites his lip. leaning back slightly, he watches as I do all the work. “Go on, get off on my cock”

My pace starts to become more messy and uncontrolled. Chris was also not helping, doing nothing except keeping his hands on my face.

With a muffled moan I slam myself down one last time. My head falls forward as I feel my orgasm wash over me. I feel warm and so relieved.

He takes his hand from my mouth, he then leads me to him by my neck and presses our lips together.

His hands both go back to My waist. just holding my body close to his.

I could still feel him rock hard in me. I knew we weren’t done, but I was appreciating the break.

Chris pulls me off gently and picks me up. He turns us around so he is on top of me.

Us fucking in missionary was always rare as hell. Because we’re there for the benefits. -And according to Chris, he hates my face so much he doesn’t want to see it.

well at least that’s what he used to tell me.

He slides his dick through my folds, before slowly pushing in.

I sigh feeling him fill me up again.

In our enemies with benefits situation we never did anything that felt intimate. The sex felt like sex, and not love. And that’s how it worked. It was good like that.

But like this, Chris, his blue eyes staring right into mine. The way he kept his hand at the curve of my waist, his other hand holding him up placed next to my head.

We were so close, I could practically feel him breathing on my face.

This felt so intimate, like something we, as people who hate each other, shouldn’t be doing

And that’s exactly what it was.

Well I guess we already made the first mistake when we first hooked up.

We were never meant to be. Not like that. Not like this.

So why did it feel so good though?

“You good ma?”

Have I been staring? Probably. But how can I help myself when he is so close to me, looking ever so handsome.

“I’m good. Please move” I whine trying to keep my voice low.

He sinks down, his face burying in the crook of my neck as he starts to move. All slow and sensual.

we barely ever did missionary, and when we did, his face was as far away from mine as possible. But right now it seemed like he was trying to be as close to me as possible.

He occasionally groans into my skin, sending tingles down my spine and right to my aching core. I try to keep my voice low, but still let a few soft moans slip.

“Y/n?” He says abruptly. He keeps up the slow sensual thrust, keeping himself buried deep. Yet he sits up slightly, his forearm next to my head holding him up.

“Mhm?” I say lowly not really trusting my voice.

Our eyes lock. Chris swallows. My eyes trail his features, trailing down to his chest, to his lips and back to his eyes again.

“Can I come in you?”

I raise my eyebrow at the question. Usually we used condoms. I mean I’m on the pill but according to Chris he ‘doesn’t want to take any risk’. But recently we had done it like that more than we had since the whole arrangement started.

“ ‘corse” I mumble back.

And before I know it Chris is picking up pace. He doesn’t move back, keeping himself hovering right above me our eyes connected.

My core was aching from all the over stimulation. So I shudder when he picks up pace.

He still keeps his strokes sensual and deep. I moan lightly, cautiously keeping my voice low.

He re-adjusts my legs, wrapping them around his torso for a deeper angle.

He picks up pace even more. I throw my head back at the overwhelming pleasure, my eyes closing, my mouth falling open in a silent moan.

Chris doesn’t even bother to make me look back at him. He just lets me enjoy this, and watches. Watches the way I look with my head thrown back in euphoria.

“Chris, Chris- chris-“ I keep my voice low but the more I chant his name the higher and squeakier my voice gets.

Chris takes that as a telltale sign that I’m close, but so was he.

He cups my mouth shutting me up. or atleast muffling my moans and whines.

He picks up pace even more. My eyes go back to meet his, my eyebrows scrunched in pleasure.

I tap his wrist to tell him I’m close. He licks his lips. Of course he knew I was close without me telling him.

His hand stays firmly on my mouth, keeping me quiet. “You’re doing so good, cherry”

His other hand goes to my clit in order to finish me off quicker. He rubs it harshly.

Suddenly I throw my head back again, clenching around him. I feel my release wash over me again.

He keeps pounding into me. But his thrusts get more sloppy and uncontrolled. Until his hips stutter. He gives me one last thrust before his spurts of cum shoot into me.

My legs are tense around his torso from the overwhelming pleasure.

I feel warm and so filled. It felt way more intimate than the countless times we’ve hooked up before.

And the fact that he stays there, collapses on top of me, his face in my neck, gently kissing, And not moving off, only made this feel even more intimate.

After a long while of just cuddling, and being in each other’s presence, Chris sits up. He gently and slowly pulls out, making me wince at the loss of contact.

He stares down at my cunt for what feels like a long time. Until his pointer and middle finger meet it again. Pushing the seed that was leaking out of me back in.

“Chris” I hiss my body shooting up. I was now half sitting my arm propping me up, my other hand going to circle his wrist to stop him from moving his hand.

“Awe poor baby does that hurt?” He huffs in a slight mocking tone. But for once it doesn’t seem menacing.

“Yes. don’t do that” I roll my eyes.

He chuckles at the sassy tone. “Well I gotta make sure you don’t waste it.” He sasses right back.

Chris already prepared for the worst outcome.

“I’m still on the pill.” I huff. I then slowly pull his fingers out of me, seeing the way they were covered in a whole lot of our mixed juices.

He chuckles popping his fingers into his mouth.

Matserlist

A/N: I loved writing this series. But it’ll probably only have one more chapter (so 5 in total). This was my first ever series, and it was so fun to write. Love y’all. My dms & req are open 🩷

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @t1llysblog

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fintan-pyren · 1 month

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Sometimes, life is busy. You shouldn't let that stop you from enjoying a good book, but who has the time to read the same words over and over again?

For your enjoyment and convenience, I have removed all duplicate words from the first Keeper of the Lost Cities book.

blurry fractured memories swam through sophie’s mind but she couldn’t piece them together tried opening her eyes and found only darkness something rough pressed against wrists ankles refusing to let move a wave of cold rushed as the horrifying realization dawned was hostage cloth across lips stifled cry for help sedative’s sweet aroma stung nose when inhaled making head spin were they going kill would black swan really destroy their own creation what point project moonlark then everblaze drug lulled toward dreamless oblivion fought back clinging one memory that could shine tiny spot light in thick inky haze pair beautiful aquamarine fitz’s first friend new life ever maybe if hadn’t noticed him day museum none this have happened no knew it’d been too late even white fires already burning curving city filling sky with sticky smoke spark before blaze miss foster mr sweeney’s nasal voice cut blaring music he yanked earbuds out by cords you decided you’re smart pay attention information sophie forced open not wince bright fluorescents reflected off vivid blue walls amplifying throbbing headache hiding sweeney mumbled shrinking under glares now staring classmates pulled shoulder-length blond hair around face wishing hide behind it exactly kind went way avoid why wore dull colors lurked blocked other kids who at least foot taller than survive twelve-year-old high school senior perhaps can explain listening your ipod instead following along held up like evidence crime though probably he’d dragged class natural history balboa park assuming his students be excited about all-day field trip didn’t seem realize unless giant dinosaur replicas came started eating people cared tugged loose eyelash nervous habit stared feet there make understand needed cancel noise hear chatter from dozens tourists echoed fossil-lined splashed cavernous room mental voices real problem scattered disconnected pieces thoughts broadcast straight into brain being hundreds tvs different shows same time sliced consciousness leaving sharp pains wake freak secret burden since fell hit five years old she’d blocking ignoring nothing helped never tell anyone wouldn’t you’ve above lecture don’t give asked pointed enormous orange duckbill center how lambeosaurus differs dinosaurs we’ve studied repressed sigh flashed an image card front display glanced entered photographic recorded every detail recited facts twisted scowl classmates’ grow increasingly sour weren’t fans resident child prodigy called curvebuster finished answer grumbled sounded know-it-all stalked exhibit next over follow thin separating two rooms block muffled grabbed little relief nice job superfreak garwin chang boy wearing t-shirt said i’m gonna fart sneered shoved past join they’ll write another article child teaches lame-o-saurus still bitter yale had offered full scholarship rejection letter arrived few weeks allowed go parents much pressure young end discussion so attending closer smaller san diego college year fact some annoying reporter newsworthy enough post local paper chooses ivy league complete photo freaked wasn’t strong word more half rules unnecessary front-page articles pretty worst nightmare they’d newspaper complain editor seemed unhappy story run place on arsonist terrorizing trying figure mistake bizarre white-hot flames smelled burnt sugar took priority everything especially unimportant girl most ignore or used caught sight tall dark-haired reading yesterday’s embarrassing black-and-white looked seen particular shade teal smooth sea glass beach glittered flickered expression gaze disappointment decide shrugged leaning closed distance between smile belonged movie screen heart did weird fluttery thing is pointing picture nodded feeling tongue-tied fifteen far cutest talking i thought squinted brown uh yeah sure say reason felt conversation accent british somehow crisper which bothered know are suck words soon left mouth course boys cute made mushy perfect returned told hulking greenish standing albertosaurus all its lizardesque glory me do think that’s it’s absurd

isn’t see saw small t rex: big teeth ridiculously short arms fine laughed i’ll get meet turned leave just classes kindergartners barreled fossil crushing screaming knock step whole realm pain kids’ stinging high-pitched needles many once angry porcupine attacking hands darted rubbing temples ease stabbings skull remembered alone reaction locked forehead pained imagined seconds hushed blood drain mean created plenty racket shrieks squeals giggles plus sixty individual chattering away gasped solved earlier everyone boy’s distinct accented speaking totally completely silent possible whispered widened moved whisper telepath flinched skin itch gave can’t believe backed exit reveal total stranger okay holding sort wild animal calm afraid froze my name’s fitz added stepping name searching sign part joke joking thinking wobbled spent seven find someone else world tilted sideways steady here looking twelve we better question: want air jerked bolted door stumbling shaky legs rhythm sucked breaths ran down stairs burned lungs bits ash flew ignored wanted space strange come shouted picked pace raced courtyard base steps wide fountain grassy knolls sidewalk got inside because poor quality footsteps gaining wait pouring energy sprint fighting urge glance shoulder halfway crosswalk sound screeching tires reminded both ways terrified driver struggling stop car plowed right die second blur swerved missing inches jumped curb sideswiped streetlight heavy steel lantern cracked plummeted instincts hand shot pulling strength somewhere deep gut pushing fingertips force collide falling gripping extension arm dust settled floated feel weighed ton put familiar warned bringing trance shrieked dropped without hurtled watch yanking split crashed ground impact knocked tumbled body broke fall landed chest stretched flurry questions swirling coherent idea sat replaying sense need witnessed miracle tighten panic let’s overwhelmed plan resist street reached intersection north zoo where crowd during firestorm running missed hearing changed terrifying scenarios involved government agents throwing dark vans experiments watched road ready bolt anything suspicious zoo’s massive parking lot relaxed outside milling cars happen witnesses slowed walk breath promise sincere easier opened hesitated supposed am trust won’t considered father sent specific age observe report always talk frowned disappointed himself does means expected threw what’s wrong touched eyelids suddenly selfconscious figured again awe us stopped whoa hang ‘one us’ frowning spotted fanny-pack-wearing within earshot deserted corner ducking green minivan there’s easy we’re human stunned speak hysterical laugh escaped repeated shaking riiiiiight insane trusting kicked stomped telling truth minute last listen plea humans vanished gone reeling leaned argued taking clear set pole minutes ago almost three managed finally saying alien erupted laugher cheeks grew hot also relieved compose elf hung foreign object belong visions tights pointy ears danced giggling expect guess stick wavy spikes rock star good crazy agreed refused serious frodo ring save middle-earth toys hid corners showed oh ought folded slender silver wand intricate carvings etched sides tip round crystal sparkled sunlight magic asking rolled actually pathfinder spun latch top dangerous you’ll faded depends take concentrate matter happens proof prove whisk land curious harm someone’s willed palms sweat fingers laced stupid tingled everywhere scanning warning look scowled bit tongue concentrated racing seriously become those silly girls counted raising facet beam refracted tightened grip forward warm tingling million feathers swelling underneath tickling giggle melted goo keeping oozing blanket warmth wrapped faster blink eye might squeaked stood edge glassy river lined impossibly trees fanning emerald leaves among puffy clouds row castles walt disney throw rocks kingdom golden path led sprawling elaborate domed buildings built brick-size jewels each structure color snowcapped mountains surrounded lush valley crisp cool

cinnamon chocolate sunshine places exist less appear forgotten released realized hard squeezing unable castle towers oddly our capital call eternalia heard shangri-la lost cities you’d stories rarely ridiculous things elves burst quiet gentle breeze brushing soft murmur traffic hammering unspoken very silence rising tiptoes view streets ghost town building towered others stones emeralds banner flying tribunal progress everyone’s watching proceedings council basically royalty holds broken law they’re deal laws well shook wrap cringing question funniest glared funny regained control try cling remaining strands sanity sun casting ray onto leaping hitched ride headed impossible infinite travel haven’t theory relativity stumped dumbest i’ve albert einstein huh dumb argue confident unnerving harder waited feather sensation dryer scattering directions until rubber band later shivering ocean whipping glowed carved moonlight failed passed bring herself true science book read confused observed ‘hey learned smug grin best minds begin comprehend complexities reality elves’ ahead slowest trump proper education shoulders sagged sank four scenery blurred whether tears entire lie nudged hey fault believed taught i’d done works bells chimed large gateway floor-length velvet capes draped tunics emerged followed creatures marching military formation rocky pants muscles prominently flat noses coarse gray pleated folds armadillo goblins signed treaty hating trembling dressed forbidden lumenaria worlds gnomes dwarves ogres trolls mentioning focused motioned farther squatting betrayed ancient councillors intelligent rule planning war ancients violence disappeared forbid any contact devices working defend race famine problems chilled frigid wind licking who’d known must’ve after eventually evolved myths simple yes peeked glowing crucial identity clicked spinning thousand loud clang gate stepped shadows sleek cobalt home jolted mom bus bland boring stole incredible blinding swept smoky fresh surprised recognized plain square houses narrow tree-lined house ask lived coughed handle putting pollutes planet these aren’t normal chemical smells usually wildfires smell barbecue melting cotton candy burn rain arsonists admitted pocket hoping notice dad wants knows neither important meant mystery he’s happy careful please shown today thank act family doesn’t suspect squared courage telepaths special ability rarer ones thirteen six months corrected liking youngest manifest start reverberated scanned positive waking hospital moment forget hooked kinds machines hovering shouting barely separate hold happening group adults haunted worry brows narrowed doing extra private keep wall weak hated bossed answering concerned action worked imagining stretching shadow mine blurted pale process hardest worries live fumbled answers long trouble knees link amazing will tomorrow panicked battered cluttered living phone she’s receiver having reeled daggers calling wandering worried police sorry stammered convincing horrible liar scared mom’s anger concern nervously curly guy realizing lies based freaking walked trolley train teacher guard ugh complained closing adult rubbed wrinkle appeared stressed upset safe stand weirdo understood dangers teased tormented bullied deflate wish trailed close rest sister slipped pin painful tight hug welcome honey dinner ten amy upstairs kitchen unease twist stomach worn linoleum pastel tacky knickknacks ordinary glittering kissed cheek shabby briefcase table how’s soybean wink baby apparently pronouncing thousands times lid simmering pots garlic cream filled handed silverware turn crackin’ scooted plopped usual chair nine role mastered opposite lower average grades popularity sisters wondered definitely powers lowered breathing: inhale exhale repeat care nickname dizzy must lay should eat skipping acting fettuccine night favorite rich sauce sudden nausea tug eyelashes chewed bite swallow fork official thanks great homework sprinted bed hiss shattered marty pounding fluffy cat sitting tail slunk settling lap marty’s purring

confront downstairs settle explained blonde chubby brunette screamed throbbed deeper ripped apart blinked related change lots adopted poked brought e l fudges plate cookies milk getting sick palm fever tired cookie stumbled routine crawled blankets wrapping pillow dreams kissing tucked tradition breathe ella yep elephant stuffed sleep tonight um guys hugged tighter hours labor endured switched birth daughter doubt wondering anymore dreamed keebler perfected recipes liked oreos drown vat fudge woke overrated morning quick shower jeans shirt buttery yellow stripes item closet self-conscious wear gold flecks admit clipped toyed lip gloss snuck check crept yard blinking stuck contained next-door neighbor perch middle lawn forkle rearranging garden tableaux nosy checking effect beady bored hers loved sentences complaining 911 obligated gnome fraction inch gives headaches yapping interrupted ball fur streaked barking spandex jogging shorts chased grabbing dog leash clumsy lunge kneeled stroking wild-eyed panting creature drew growled strained mad sister’s hates displaying several halfmoon wounds bleeding scar suppose willing carry blocks seems winked piercing certainly yelled jogger guy’s louder chaos wonder grab drag should’ve trick react stopping tracks side man straightened height quite intimidating ordered glowered promised snorted grumbling moving explaining whenever appearance waiting incident eyewitnesses frustrating confusing bell rang lurking scream demanded loudly heads bad flashing cocky rush blush unanswered tries creepy snatch slow replayed scene remember growling forkle’s quietly quieter we’ll we’d eyeing suspected impending mischief leap english ditch yesterday strangle pull disappearing fail willingly use telepathy brushed whispering pushed further test tested permission assignment frustrated matters invading offense scrunch nod movement nearby oak drowned could’ve sworn jogger’s campus gestured tree either imagine adjusted shouldn’t anyway who’s committee sidelong heat breaking automatically furious enjoyed caused determines grinned future shield surveyed surroundings metal nearly everglen leading doors absorbs directly likes privacy stressful doubted king kong faint click swung inward striking clearing growing midnight cape fastened clasp diamond-encrusted wings lean vibrant resemblance alden introduced bow curtsy shake greet shy pleasure prominent kidding unusual flush smiled embarrassed fire alden’s injury muttered son shared kidnapping considering such might’ve paranoid has touch rude assure love kidnapper searched reassure kindness agree placed gently jacket ticked indeed fascinating sounding triumphant perfectly specifically nexus forgot covered dug cuff coat clamped bracelet wrist twisting fit snug comfortable accessory single jewel rectangle symbols letters spelled gibberish odd decorate finality safety precaution break particles carried concentration circumstances bare early fools overestimate skills fade cautious answered lose yourself able fully reform pulls forever goose bumps dimple cleared throat prefer reproving send mission collect long-lost guests wiped blooming red pink purple rainbow perfume flowers dizzying testing qualify foxfire paused fungus insulted prestigious academy named represents glow darkened comes ‘fungus’ strongest talent kiss goodbye excuse proud attend accomplishment earliest levels develops abilities continue studies elvin sneak work knowingly chills mixed night’s troubling revelation sickening councillor bronte difficult impress feels upbringing lack disqualify surprises existed miffed votes squat brown-skinned huge tended fairy tale plants slantways shuffled carrying basket twinkling fruit guessing pictured men hats statues servants stare choose safer gardens enjoy privileged taste gnomish produce lunch treat dig slimy tubers slugs hoped menu peeled meadow elegant manor entirely intricately numerous turrets gables rose tower resembled lighthouse braided foyer prism widest hallway fountains spouted streams colored water hall dead-ended encrusted jeweled mosaic

diamond unicorns amethyst spoke wealth squeezed formal dining sheer silk curtains drawing chandelier waterfall shimmering crystals platters fancy goblets figures jewel-encrusted circlets plush thronelike chairs surrounding curtsied necks clasps keys horribly underdressed fabrics except disguise kenric oralie football player toothy princess rosy ringlets met smallest cropped features finger pairs floor laughter squirmed joined pleased shape it’ll transformed noticing autorepeat: scooting oralie’s one’s died yet hurt immortal trace sorrow bodies aging reach adulthood wrinkles belongs yourselves guest uncovered grimace strips glop goop tasted juiciest cheeseburger stuff mashed carnissa root umber leaf tastes chicken animals tone ate toxic waste squirming grimaced vegetarians horror vegetables cheeseburgers tells swallowed mouthful thud discussing openly respond kenric’s jaws dry remembering warnings stay begun eight pass mentioned learn relax bronte’s icy gust common announced jaw flushing chagrined incredulous impenetrable key sentence ‘almost breached guilt conscience sounds infallible thinks likely exceptionally lift weight telekinesis recovering embarrassment shrank goblet accident raised lifting invisible scoffed unimpressed limitations unlike physical confidence clue giving blew pretending imaginary extend sharper worth saucers applauded excellent praise couple glasses determined stronger ounce core empty collective gasp including breathed celebrate cramped strain knocking thunderous collision open-mouthed shock hollered sealed clapped language guys’ enlightened leaped instinctive interesting babbling teasing noisy gripped ‘soybean’ mispronouncing blushed chuckled beside dusting waved insisted sighed suldreen stretch line rare species bird puzzle solve uncomfortable coincidence convince decision barked shoving moonlarks vote otherwise fight favor final fragile lovely empath emotions extended grasped delicate fear confusion sincerity describe azure settles revisited till adjust invoke demand probe planned arranged quinlin busy decipher fun training looks iffy ‘bothered’ dad’s reluctant emptiness exploded choked saving colder implications ditched stall punishment atlantis nowhere patch white-capped waves signs seagulls screech poop hardly continent tide pool triangular slip slick shoes match gown begged status noble members nobility offices empire waist beaded neckline dress costume seeing clothes: tunic embroidery edges pockets sewn sleeves exact size sit boots completed thankfully knowing biana comparison changing subject ledge engineered catastrophe compartment revealing bottles label bottle whirlpool uncorked flung blast whipped faces roar churning ladies suggested worse gulped maelstrom beneath salty sprayed jump push count dignity drowning flailing idiot formed tunnel dipping weaving craziest waterslide starting launched vortex sponge licked toe pack kittens minus kitten sprang cushion smoothed wet incoming rocketed slightly squishy packed sand gleaming metropolis dome beyond soared skyline bathing radiating spires network canals interconnected arched bridges pictures venice modern clean despite bottom underwater muted hum background seashell ear build stores power precisely amount changes plated reflect firelight illuminate sink wandered shops renaissance fair women’s gowns shifted advertised two-for-one specials bottled lightning fast approval spyball applications strolled hybrid chicken-lizard invented main canal hailed carriages floating almond-shaped boat rows high-backed benches elbow-length steered bench reins skimming surface eight-foot-long scorpion deadly pincers reared curled sting eurypterid stroked shiny shell eurypterid’s slice emitting low hissing petted harmless carriage quinlin’s yours fiber mutant insect doom probed gritted pressing hideous sonden’s office thrashed heebie-jeebies commute while secure needs protection file highly classified business district windows tracing bearing names treasury registry interspeciesial services unreadable random strings runes nonsense writing

alphabet clueless chin jumble nah affected gap kid option country tests dropping member broad kelp ornamentation precise read: sonden: chief mentalist cube swiped elbow ping assurances humiliating bypassed receptionist dim damp stone desk dark-skinned chin-length seat ceremony unique understatement squirm handing lick dna unsanitary tiniest hologram center: rotating unearthly breathing prentice sacrificed double helixes sacrifice reasons fears hundred seventy-eight murmured began pacing invaded she’ll greatest keeper older midstep record share trained charge protecting currently hidden karaoke game sing off-key notes clearly eavesdropping strip slid winding stairway climbed oval footage brush projected chill aerial southern california lines circle area images deepened valleys ruled reflections note interrupting communicate waving warn turning overreacting glancing shuddered desperate kidnapper’s threatened easily implied nameless faceless entity quickly threatening authorities would’ve shivered accelerant chemicals leads lighting spilling oil blowing investigate council’s position here: takes visit babysitter decent equally spying steam secrecy existence discovered hoax search updated slight bypassing distracted evillooking matches keepers lagoon glint shimmery dunes lake west shore statue topped hollow iridescent film shimmered loop apparatus resemble bubble lifted clung shrieking levitate forming touching bubble’s rumble coming geyser shoot eleven crash below bobbed where’s scary pure joy popped whisked glaring gates flash strode olive contrast youth shone nerve summoning personal shorter intimidated difference sooner exiled clench fists backward tiergan aware opinion summoned convinced tiergan’s fierce crumbled crossing expert inventory widening whatever foxfire’s newest mentor puppy officially weirding becomes provide retired given persuaded return resentment mixture surprise hone assistance reasonable restrictions pretend opportunity silencing bet terrible mood mumbling mostly irresponsible manage choice benefit stares notify dame alina returning kept bruise meantime session listed remedial schedule lessons dummies correct assumption warmed tuesday brilliant panel everglen’s grounds sessions study student subjects one-on-one nerves one-onone succeed mention level grade relearning self-doubt heavier fragmented disappear explanation aside pleasant dis arguing overstuffed armchairs woman squealed snickered wife della pinched gesturing dear vanishers smiling musical hint della’s beauty tossed pursed heart-shaped parents’ combined gangly troll interceded borrow errands frumpy files requested denied request approve grady edaline case torn radiant parcels strobe unwrapped packages clasped cord neck choker pendant elf-y anytime fund’s activated fund register money standard dollars lusters laughing luster dollar crinkled ew insult afford differently limited seventy eighty makes sad curved window overlooking silvery floor-to-ceiling aquarium wingback facing piled books scrolls anxiety remind stacks newspapers circled crossed news removed drawer theories irritation super stuttered discuss faced solution allow ours they’ve effective immediately too-simple accept kick constant discovery longer unbearable loneliness friends grasping overwhelm areas access severely restricted dead deciding gravestones became vivid: grave tearstained draw suffer struck complicated relocated jobs erase tear obvious believing shutting function erased armchair scrubbed forbade sob occurred risking twenty alert plans clothes sees wiping focus bent unshed horrors cringed buried trembled bouncing busted eavesdrop grounded hugging worrying pouted pettiness bratty obnoxious pain-in-the-butt embrace struggles play daughters mouths senses hook hurry daze rememorize room: dusty available quilt mother tripped furry crouching releasing pathetic meow disk sleeping gas release drugging physically ill backpack slung giggled elizabeth clutching anywhere couch fingered ordering thirty crumpled burying recognize crouched smearing drool snot drugged sobs

overcame jerk washers bags regret bear slept finish hawaiian family’s limp determination taken fourteen cried assured stranglehold haunting gets hope personally oversee relocation flared wrung guardians title selected enthusiasm strangers elwin’s blue-crystaled temptation shiver raked bones orphan conservatory lead backyard security choosing saved ache suffering gift raise ended abandoned wipe elwin physician medical hate doctors brave regular nightmares brief stays struggled dragging direction drop free implying biana’s glare escape punch bathed gigantic glued cushioned cot syringe goes fidget spectacles scientist snapped painless orb flasher manipulate skilled orem vacker show eclipse biggest celebrations traditions damage permanent tensed food chance innocent cells dashing depending orbs squinting lenses stunningly lit dramatic expecting toxins research rifled satchel vials liquids major detox braced medicine syrups nectar unknown fruits tingly drink youth legends enzymes essential health refreshing downed contents gulp drank medicines list follow-up checkup whistled sometimes heated lame stinky stegosaurus shame horrified production wimp doctor phobia jumping needle strap bunch shots allergic how’d concrete nine-one-one unconscious genes kicking trigger bedroom canopied chandeliers room’s gotten deserve ruined chanting mantra shut pajamas tuck asleep belonging alive twenty-five catch breakfast clock shop furniture detoxes materializing clutched ghostly exotic heartbreaker fitted glamorous shopping explosion behold wardrobe outfits extras pick beat-up sparkly casual packing leaked days unpack hungry knotted sadly dampened preserve havenfield exciting jolie deny loss wonderful booming fenced-in pastures spread scrambled versions rehabilitation centers sanctuary protected trap nessie artist endangered gorillas lions mammoths extinct thriving herd woolly colonies saber-toothed tigers slack exists rob qualities provides thrive feeding hunt diet steep cliffs caves flower-lined using ropes lasso lizard neon beast protest drama queen husky male commanded beast’s heave feat twice snaarrll bucked guardian lunged tangled writhed losing balance verdi tyrannosaurus comments meeting jaculus winged serpent feeds support contain bloodsucking snake claws snout tremble lowering fangs glinted slobber motioning glimpse dinosaur-riding chiseled feather-covered james bond robin hood balding relate handsome feathery banged pet rub rex’s stayed docile unblinking separated verdi’s wound plugged slime death rot tuna fish combination kelpie dung bites jar swear edaline’s grady’s wary compared palatial estate mansion standards columns cupola roof entryway central upper floors cascaded ceiling wispy fabric turquoise amber curls similar circles fluff presentable rex picking playing rodeo cowboy nope wash staircase sadness lingered tea mallowmelt insist gooey cake fresh-baked chip soaked ice frosting butterscotch dripping hasty slices served nook grazing linens painted china homesick woken lushberry juice pop possessed conjurer form teleporting objects coolest unfortunately scraggly slurps burps letting friend’s ached grieve fished imparter simply strangled pounded reassuring deafening third star-shaped dangled glittery weaved carpet scent canopy occupied dressing bookshelves brightly volumes bathroom bathtub swimming biting awesome assumed jolie’s tour awkward delicious soupy pizza unpacking wrinkled scrapbook wherever welled remnants dried sixteen sunrise streaks blending mirror darken awake finishing hovered doorway interrupt riser shades clap bruises conjured bowl spoon banana bread tempted impose sloppy handwriting upside symbol corner: bird’s beak tickled babble scare extremely documents cipher moisture particularly believable prescribed drawn eager fidgeting ruffles simplest bought hi kesler groaned island mysterium identical mold vendors spices sweets buzzed crowded sidewalks working-class social rank ‘talent simpler correspondingly unfair born lesser lives type designed village avoiding whispers ruewen pretended different

store crooked nursery rhyme burps: merry apothecary belched maze shelves pills laboratory beakers bubbling burners rainbow-colored lab skinny tousled strawberry periwinkle blob tubes add amarallitine dex tongs vial experiment poured beaker sparked plume dirty gag concoction exclaimed hello ‘hello impersonation sludge eda scrap sheet kesler’s brother-in-law nephew practically monday al freaks dimples burped beanpole hooded cloak vika annoyance handiwork written girl’s bald scalp meanwhile stina ’cause twitched battling sell solutions sasquatch dent bony appendages children throttle hairoids stock week wailed ogre wicked misses responsible friendly rage here’s spat helping customers potent hat flinch useless buy countered retort stina’s oooh slammed fist timkin heks helps situation traditional absolutely brings stuffy nobles happier grinning mess tweak supplies armful worktable sneaky beard dex’s evil mortar pestle teach tingle attempt fifty-seven solo property collapse practiced checked displayed sliver percent chose he’ll hawk mentors monitor weakness expelled pushes transferred exillium swallowing bile mounting attack messy juline riveted gossip interruption interest hilarious bookshelf mounted cover camera summer flipping pages naked mouse suit disneyland dizznee photos honestly movies outlets flipped technology solar powered rifling sir conley’s luck lady galvin highest rate rig calming flooded seventeen gadgets chimes arrive uniform skirt leggings shirt-vest-cape combo laceup jerkin long-sleeved slacks waist-length superhero captain blueberry rescue meaning order demonstrate rid wimpy halcyon mastodons mascot birds storm mastodon ceremonies costumes glad idiots appealing crest triangle heart: scarlet eagle soaring talons chemistry equipment theirs adopting adoption adopt temporary enrollment manticore themselves parties dies span cope calmed orphans wylie whose recover connection blames wylie’s hanging leapmaster 500 lucky authorized 250 tons rotated five-story pyramid sharply angled u stained seventh amphitheater extensive fields grass hopelessly prodigies uniforms building’s finding ducked starts orientation principal reads announcements attendance collar track peal close-up stunning porcelain caramel-colored foremost whoever reekrod weekend mark punished fullest extent threat dangle continued detect ah spotlight hissed viper’s nest ssssssophie hole crawl concludes today’s nearest exception divided wing banners bore midflight halls quad throughout sparkling sapphire chatted doorways lining atrium spectacle creating marked rune locker mirrored lock uses gross faculty picks flavors pepper sneeze croak yelped stench rotten eggs dash diaper muskog wheezy snicker whirled towering mass frizzy cackling hags stalking hairs shave earth serum friday retorted raven swishing behavior phasers ashamed apologize obviously spend detention alexine stinks beet minions kinda frog fumes catching jensi rapid-fire speech talked buckets redder instructed honest ‘human girl’ ‘sophie’ whim elementalism pride backtracked twists turns drops warped wooden session’s zapped ‘zapped’ thunderclap eighteen tray electrocuted quiver conley hitting fluted botched sending tornado tornadoes mastering elements entering foods series stalls court mall recognizable eaten tables cafeteria whom discourage joining verge perceptible message clear: focusing bigger jensi’s acne braces fairly slicked greasy ponytails drooled setting bang c’mon dude unison ‘e’ duh drooly volunteered singed universe daunting exaggerated messing ‘dude’ killing explode cough pixielike rescuing tossing petite balled braids suicide overeager marella mare nicknames obeyed enemies honored pucker licorice lemon fan prettypants rather grumpy brat brother’s dreamy willpower copying sip looped defending dizznees triplets says ‘bad match’ genetically incompatible inferior aunt uncle superstrange celebrities famous vackers superimportant marella’s sympathy grandma heartbroken helpless veins hopeless cases guarantee scooping mammoth shudder awful afternoon feared astronomical

learning astin whispery complex maps planetarium effortless excelled hour survived approaching dragon hateful invited feelings letters: extinguished stuffing fill animosity deck ‘nice uncanny royal highness bothers remembers talented ‘deck beaming nineteen thursday disaster goal sandwiched colosseum pe vanity near door: sneakers ponytail owned ship slap reply lasted compare redek squish may fool stops idle threats grouped twos tromps manifested fifty-fifty manifesting mysterious remark required variable reign terror ‘everyone’ impressive jolt supervise caton titan god informed channeling supereasy channel parts body: heights speeds normally unimpressive attempts threes bumped defense appetite startled spaceship unremarkable studying superintently snapping scraping probing concept unsettling establish forcing eighty-seven puckered brow assume cheerful scraped intended drained steadying suggest ethics attached meganeura exercise annoy fidgeted cocked wanna buzzing dived vulture-size dragonflies patted freaky-looking bug blown gargantuan proportions creepiest disco balls grown monster enclosure phys ed intense emergency weirdest part: proven trustworthy receive assignments lectured responsibility detecting discover elite avoided mesmer nauseated wow sheesh inflicting curiosity won causes dara lecture: pyramids tidal army hairy hollowing himalayas strangest mumble creeped exile interested dying supertalented fundamental guilty underground eternity ruin fluke churned abandoning illegal washer alter dump brother secluded sorted reminding effort flavored flumes spritzed shove disturbing failing smirked alchemy pupil encouraging cracking melody ominous ingredients trophies gilded items pointy-toed suspiciously midas milky liquid dancing rushing rustle red-brown updo hunter silky decorated patterns swished slightest alkahest universal solvent stored itself dissolves wood flesh taxes substance alchemist wise teaching masters tincture poultice basic serums yellowed box flask jars iron transmuting metals recipe formula labeled instructions fiddled rechecked mistakes plunged whip fizzed rumbled jelly galvin’s exquisite dissolved luxurious damaged salvage welt healing ma’am murder retrieve afterward muttering incompetence flunk sprawled hallways stark ditching keefe gulon disheveled untucked popular belva crush blame 90 certain paid accidentally cue epic alina’s ugly crying treated whiter phobia consisted rooms: treatment beds brewing physician’s paperwork slinky scurried bullhorn demented ferret banshee adorable fellow dramatically wanting seize mmm-hmm acid mimed effects destroyed salve measured whap wash present laughs clarification confirming twenty-one embellished version destruction joked bottling anwen multispeciesial 324 faxon metaphysics complimented requests brown-eye create overnight granted incredibly challenging explosions occurrence unlearn lifetime knowledge levitating rainbows constantly messed highlight skill effortlessly amazed unwanted transmit else’s psychic photograph needing patient plague suspicion snotty maruca i-hate-sophiefoster club reaching growl jealous prettiest bedlam subdue chasing rabbits antlers swinging trunk lump verminion pen boosted mammoth’s trumpeted earthshaking squeal ringing mound timid twig hiiiissssssssssss uncurled rodent bulging hamsters rottweiler-size hamsterzilla trample japanese hamster cooed snaarrrlll impressed chase steer dashed catches fifty stupidest clod mud nailed grooowwwwllll fatal flaw pinned grunted press snarling squeeze verminion’s unlocked assortment spewed whined pile gloves shed trade trudged oversize squirrels rats identify burlap sack quivering snarl steeled shriek batlike heaved wool scratches leg outbuildings carefully organized veterinarian’s laid sterile spreading limbs smeared eyedropper dripped creature’s rewarded squeaky rumbling crackly purr smiles cage barrel soapy chain-sawesque snores vibrating brattail tuber sausage imp guessed six-inch venomous stings snoring vicious describing tame yetis outnumbered conked chipper iggy strand swell

generous hugs touches gestures glistened dubious trails twenty-two sharing congested warthog roommate snuggly sleepless spoil caring ultimate splotching championship sacks cheered sympathetic secretly celebrating partnered naturally teamed splotcher splattered loses winners person wins marks smugly win splotch splat deserved colorful prize contest pardon hopes wonderboy gagging rounds beat opponent knots backing aim ow raw telekinetic flushed compliment disqualifies pumped victory hotter cheering opponents experience duel beginner’s talents mighty competition grumblings battle odds experienced evidently four: sixes trella dempsey paired hopeful muster bested winner fluttered appears competitors betraying butt preference keefe’s chant ladies’ float clenched adrenaline surged audience back-up splotches rebound phenomenon weightless collided simultaneous fate collapsed twenty-three placing compress wincing muscle injured whermiwhahapped worse: laying banshees mortal danger stirred lucid winced stiff glands zinged collected rebounded bounce specialized hammered controls actual mix matched draining practice evenly awfully sidelines wobbling auditorium applause teensy annoyed copied blushing elbowing ribs tie protested declared excused lesson rejoin splotchers acted delivered p congratulations confirm bath lathering bathers soggy instinctively besides creased drive twenty-four meter one-third younger that’d wonderboy’s precious midterms score seventy-five recommend nissa tutoring consider tutor projection gagged flavor yell daily tore prattle chewy caramel peanut butter pouch cracker jack horse mane prattles’ unicorn pins collection examined digital 122 185 number eighty-five super-rare bitterness vaguely compute unexpected development century too-little-too-late branch other’s replaced beeline simultaneously sniff aw stuck-up snob wasted invite humiliate walking ambush capable teeniest details clanged cricket chirped embroidered satin sash wringing exhaled seeming makeovers wrestling polite fortunately braid flutter dirt pitter-patter eh sayin’ shooting quest grateful team jealousy guarded raid questers tagged sentry tabs isolate general nail targets listened softer instantly presence tremendous connected forest thundered vision racked credible crashing bushes partner deceive insists hasn’t secrets toes staying chain apologizing visitors sulking funk snipe wagged there’ve weekly jokes havenfield’s defied exams panicking passing guide narrowing shipped exam brass copper transmutations ideas challenges thwarted spilled gashrooms reek pored frozen cause shattering cheated accomplished cheat ideal dreading twenty-six tri-angular apex streamed pane angle reflection examining confessed forgave neutral violated ethical regulations expulsion suggesting argument ruling obey flourish bother violating reporting stifle closely icily respect authority advises wedding flapped nor pointless cheating tolerated huffed regrets confess serve minimum assigning becoming theme slipping unnoticed what’d gloomy atmosphere desks thumbs-up siren song appreciation art nature clapping earsplittingly shrill whine whale nails chalkboard toddler uncover broadening horizons claiming repentant company brand torture ballroom belva’s sirens dances edwardian claimed valin ponytailed promenade dancers valin’s sweaty chime stars shined brighter spit wickedly slobbery octaves fanned hmm irritated flattered scored points empathy forked smirk ironing holes stack detained increased practicing leaps eyebrow empaths powerful mundane purification vein easiest transmutation lockers traded twenty-seven banging annoyingly caps disqualified chorus groans nonstop cap smurf amalgam telepathic integrity wrote essay betrayal over debate automatic 100 last-minute mentally repeating tips negative vibes stress ethic claim fame skipped skip supportive doubting brag mercifully stalled magenta berries rusty discipline chosen purify ruckleberries fifty-five nasty impurities elderly human’s alchemists methods dive knife pierced berry dribbled pinky haggard glacial quarters

deducted mediocre performance forth whirlwind crack exhausted brutal slamming slumped that’ll public hooks presents spine cards schools hassle babysitters edged obstacle tugging stressing rigid suitable gifts jewelry charms charm twenty-eight unrecognizable streamers shrub toilet-papered tinsel confetti bubbles prizes popping appointment teal-wrapped package uglier hurrying plowing regain literally prying trademark smirks spoken sapphire-encrusted navy-blue intently hairstyle contrasted pristine infamous deflated wilted father’s oily insincerity resigned flame cassius lord performing unremarkably radiated apologies fos er disappointing scores fake critical said: creeps prize-filled prattles dwarf lollipop topple snappy comeback comment loser fails organize overflowing half-empty month misunderstanding shushed slim parcel chiming signaled parent-mentor conferences celebration feast unwrap snatching self ‘dear dance sometime vice president boyfriend rattled reader tease ribbon tapped gadget fingernail speaker thingies coloring dunno disbelief variety edible glosses speckled spider snapper plant fed spiders riddler writes riddle miniature violet thanked showing misty seventy-nine improvement range sensing tomato congratulated comfort sobbing partying included sneer party note: f snap k sugarplums boy-craziness necklace cuffs wristbands vanisher platter customs gelled perfection gym ornate immaculate alvar talks often rumpling fizzleberry wine juggling girlfriends hero beamed piddly quicksnuff emissaries tend conspiracy possibility myself pieced undivided swan’s curve pattern term replied active recently unauthorized investigation frustration twenty-nine alternate spending smelling clues accomplish consumed trapped counting resumed vacation finals received eighty-one eighty-three unacceptable prepared chorused poufy thrown towel drooped oven roasted frosters transmitting charts transmitted peed suffered rested cryokinetics freeze manipulating pyrokinesis mesmers inflictors monitored pyrokinetics inflict fire’s unpredictable truly forbidding pyrokinetic library surely three’s librarian banned archives libraries bust problem: section dire wolves peek promising bins mountain littered haphazardly spaces scan unrolled flip papers helpful lacy dulled childhood: strung lanyards dolls framed bone picture: breathtaking tragedy drinking leftover junk trunks piles unopened bin disturbed murky midterm roll scroll shelf sample starlight moonglade: fireflies flickering stellarscope upside-down spyglass view’s billions wad tag amaranthis memorized fourth lambentine bag spout wider scope knobs cluster dials stiffened lever thumb clinked rubini orroro azulejo cobretola indigeen scratching spectrum rearranged indigo zelenie isolated this’ll bluff scrounging elementine adjusting fidgety hummed shining teared welts frantic thirty-one blackish-purple blisters pot burns sprinkled powder adventure soaking numbs balm miserably regulate temperature palace crown nicer handful roots mutilating blades destroying bashing stubbornness reappeared ointment knelt furrowed fingertip rags longest hottest soapiest griffins discreetly boring-looking firecatching bode bundle solid downright incoherently darkly quintessence fifth element myth truest conditions blow metallic-toned bronze wildly flamed audible unmapped locations merit thirty-two platform thrones remotely procedure involving throne cushions tourmaline sturdy polished dotted onyx heard: clarette velia terik liora emery ramira darek noland zarina flicked mere evacuated three-thousand-year task undisclosed location trial salivating convict straighter dozen marched stationed bodyguards swordlike weapons belts fanfare blasted crowned amateurs seated sapphires shall world’s ungraceful consuming detector fuzzy lying endlessly jell-o hobbled astin’s honesty assigned emery’s argento auriferria pennisi merkariron styggis achromian slower plotting map cowering submit lists convenient judgment frightening hardened remained expressionless mediates telepathically consensus united aspirin unanimous

rise violates actions intentional accountable foster’s involvement addressing agreement millionth wished exchanged dimpling kiddo thirty-three banks sienna bark paintbrushes purfoliage palmae calls pures filter pollution freshest crispest tinge fuzzed hesitation observant instruction lurched sunset farthest councillors’ steadied emerald-encrusted circlet bowed pleasing honor beg refuse descryer response delightfully potential clamoring backfired speaks beginning optional 327 sensed crane sweeping peacock log dream softly regularly useful one-armed fiancé’s projecting vividly replace album dinner’s stroke retracted apology hurting tricks arches replica model thirty-four planted curl plotted page difficulties rivaled protect quieted los angeles hollywood trash conspicuous spider-man batman posed mann’s chinese theatre blended beams issued ‘forgot’ oblivious ourselves stubborn softened unwillingly seeped ‘got of’ ant pavement explore warring hurried consequences captured pleaded mercy prentice’s behalf oversaw shatters society metaphor insurgents rebellion kindest whatever’s decisions encouragement revelations ability-detecting exercises cornered superbusy insistent significant elf-ish onetime played envy tracked master tracking switch spots conspiracies investigating headway ignorance ever: permanently jarred conservation legitimate scientific principle nagging elixir nogginease limbium mineral supposedly resisted bike wheels giddy week’s supply unnaturally syrup absorb nauseating unfastening vest skin’s collapsing allergy dimmed cradling thirty-five fluttered chafed sandpaper wildhaired soothed sensations spectators cleaned vomit upright moaned allergies wits bullhorn’s trite soiled airtight vomiting swollen blotch-free humiliated undershirt noticeably absent dazzling alvar’s raptor disgusting decade spare injected steroids tied budge scolded showers heels crisis ushered deathly tough disasters blankly rests brothy soup elsewhere shadowy comforting yawn snuggled thirty-six squealing hundreds eagle-size pterodactyl somersaulted screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech stability rein speed momentum gained screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech torch pasture dispersed uncannily fried engulfed birdbath sparks jerking possess flareadon fire-resistant replay triggered animal’s cares octave higher killed resting flareadons volcanoes occur gildie strayed ‘flareadon female correcting wade debacle breaks wrestled socks shredded apparent vague emotion animals’ distances qualified lightened results defined iggy’s gildie’s paw tummy reward downy fury paled out-of-breath aura recoiling imperative vital violate risk humiliation fled her: cooperate freezing peered railing partial drifted bars errand thirty-seven mush nights begging blend processing forgetting tearing fluorescent locker: insider’s librarian’s timing shoe absolute librarians plastered sinking confirmed dog-ear chapter everblaze: unstoppable blind thirty-eight paper-strewn something’s ‘everblaze frissyn x stands detailed extinguish overruled excluded unheard indecision warred babies hatch extract unregistered code name: egg cast conventional purpose determine pregnant fertility posing implanted embryo manipulated outstanding retain discovering affects genetic anomaly renegades weapon ‘prodigy illegally forgiving messages suffocating choke word: controlled puppet issue triggers twilight proudly soothe facade crumble table: throaty fix drove wedge messenger delivering seal reseal rampaging limits chaise skimmed bead luminous nonluminous generated lumenite drilled clarify rip grubby paws riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip chunk possession skittered treasure retrieving tattered assess rug glue document accordance canceled thirty-nine heartbeat scrubbing choked-back muffle misery acknowledge gaping owe regardless charade obeying command churn yeti ricocheted ooooookaaaaaaay slinking acknowledging attempting library-appropriate slothlike triple-check echoing phew scrutiny shrug candleshade overhead clipping playlist jarring numbness bass mature speakers bands sarcastic tune swirled seeping cracks triumphed

tiptoed rustled creaked padding crawling lonely forgive forty cheer stricken envelope headline: claims victims scrawl announcement corridor stark-white gulps sneaking suggestions weigh resolve admirer flood applying replacement heal eased uncertainty brothers recent discoveries recording spy undetected textbook dreaded licensed pathfinders restriction threatens ‘everblaze’ accusation fintan pricked balefire fintan’s requires fuel supported cosmic ‘fire ignite conclusive example surveillance ruining depths former dealing approved overrule objection trusted phantom rebels snatched emissary citizen confidential duly noted digging forty-one partly imprisoned sorting reminders pity tension distant lately preparing prejudice megacrush cave commands successful method unwrapping names: connor kate natalie freeman apply permit huddled thinner echoes evacuee note’s unquenchable abandon supporter afar forty-two stashed drawers ‘you threaten chaperone global dumped significance supplied clothing resistant fly willful punish facets stagger hills screeched tying pried displays seals survival glinting corneas swoop thickest raspy coughs locate singeing shift current overcome coughing inferno ouch thrashing clouded watery beads capped treats paced treating scorched angrier contorted squatted pee severe scalding plunked sticky-sweet healthy grim balled-up yelling homes camped affairs mesmerized desperation launching steal dumping tenderness justified reacts offer unintelligible agreeing concerns forty-three relatively illness actress w-what admitting lifeless freaky dumber connections traitorous resisting grasp peace decency furball storm’s appropriate cliff reveling shard clatter soothing relishing pulverized smithereens boulder violent frightened irrational fallen possibly smothered meaty cloaked swooped sickeningly nostrils sedative cursed rallied scuffle scuttled captor circulation rasped viselike lolled rescued forty-four bonds staging unfortunate complication fog scrambling muddled funerals pendants vise sweetness blackness necessary loomed constricted heaving choking gruff hyperventilating suffocates coated hacking nods croaked relocate stolen grunt syllable drugs mist strapped bound shivers eerie breathy wheeze venom trail gumption predicament footfalls disposed disappearance guts throb ignorant cackle toy reserve widen contorting poison ple clarity struggle overwhelming happiness rocked jostling rescuer foggy occasionally elevator altitude delirium parted flimsy fumbling promises caress weary forty-five searing heightened awareness sensory overload barrage cigarette butts alley surveying hideout interrogation kidnappers scoured alexandre desperately operates anyone’s him: upcoming rounded apologized broom peeking roofs yards landmark eiffel gaped graceful paris france french indian saris currency exchange robbing bank machine atm watches account measures ‘make work’ cameras covering buttons alarm bills robbed technopath froster internet café sandwiches cheese once-living boxy computers navigated web browser googled number-one result pont iii bridge seine lanterns shopkeeper sped excitement decorations horizon lamp nexuses lasts mathematics applied dawn forty-six melder stun evening strolls cloaks leader obscurer bends distortion coil rope goons goon pathways underestimate wire enhanced wishful swirl severing rapid duck whizzed seizure dusted flailed gurgling blank forefinger crescent shaped jagged cowl stumble scarred heft frenzy hatred writhing strengthened pumping pulse heavyset figure’s hideouts options battering crushed nearing tug-of-war lessened allowing glorious drift fading surrendered mind’s imagination funeral weariness overtaking hazy snow labored conscious sparkle freedom sweep forty-seven brightness peaceful wove persisted appeal surge newfound pooled aches splintered clearer enveloped strawberry-blond-haired numbing sedated tingles luxuriating gulping wetness numb shhh sniffled recognizing propped girly seasons faltered proves meaningful floppy snickers emergencies conversations flirting scratch

blasts streaking injuries concentration’s cell half-drained gaunt fleeing canceling flitted nuzzling scratched there’d yawned lights forty-eight covers washed sandor goblin bodyguard inflictor paralysis semiconscious incapacitated dormant trauma latent polyglot languages advance interrogated sandor’s bunny seven-foot-tall buffed-out overtime blindfolded seared monitoring proved arrested custody awaiting deaths tragic innocence error motivate condemning madness reluctance single-handedly now’s crescent-shaped recalled epiphany overweight swells digest explains operative guarding subliminal advantage activate developed who’ll address database detectives arson reigned supreme wisest greater questioned decades measure influential amok globe rejected imprison devastated uprooted supporters initiative resign outspoken recruited activity satisfied handled poorly kidnapped prisoner resolved disposal stamped justice voiced revenge birthday birthdays indefinite spans thirteen-year-old crushes plots rebellions grown-ups understands teenager accepted bargain relented insisting uncertain responding arrange forty-nine pedestal charges bylaws sub-bylaws committed transgressions minor tortured regal express safely accused drafting addressed firmly murmurs debated arguments raging attitude disrespectful rebellious overlooked gratitude however static rulers experiences inappropriate assign ‘already served’ sang admission din bursting provisional basis due aforementioned cannot proceed suggestion issues seats smoothing occasion fancier signaling require records indicate provided remain appreciated despised gladly nicely dipped textbooks someday squash toughest earn deserves murderous successfully fingering justifiably displeasure smirking retake propose alternative state events revealed therefore practical prudent career prospects shifting internal logical volatile qualifies majority erupting directing registered cuddly earned oneon-one immediate tangle concluded gathered twirling nudging trades sidestepped congratulate surviving multiple tribunals swirls diamonds feminine unlatch decides woven triply journey

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nnightskiess · 1 year

Text

the dance of death, part one

₊° - 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘞𝘦𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘞𝘦𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘥𝘢𝘺’𝘴 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴.

the dance of death, masterlist

☾ ⋆*·:⋆*·:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸.

𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨... rip those damned pink and sparkly headphones off of Enid’s head. Although the cheerful girl had been so kind as to put them on in the first place, to not bother Wednesday’s peace, it didn’t silence the music completely. The loud, happy rhythm and beats along with Enid’s soft singing and jiggling in her seat made the girl want to rip her ears off her own head just to silence the noise. Complete silence was what she needed in order to finish writing tonight’s chapter. Her head was already one chaotic jumble of thoughts after today’s events in Jericho and it seemed that she wasn’t granted to quiet her mind with some writing either.

She turned around, glaring hard and long at her roommate who danced in her spot on the bed, a pencil in her mouth as she read her textbook. How one was able to concentrate with hideous music overbearing everything, was a mystery to Wednesday. However, it seemed no difficult task for Enid, seeing as the girl was too concentrated to notice Wednesday’s glare, or the fact she was not being as quiet as she had promised. Thing trudged over Enid’s bright duvet covers to hand her an eraser, before he pointed out a mistake in her homework.

“Thanks, Thing!” Enid spoke, not knowing how loud she had been.

Wednesday flared her nostrils, let out a quick breath and turned back around, immediately ripping out the paper from her typewriter. The few words she had written had not been too gripping anyway.

When tidying up her desk, Wednesday’s eyes fell on her cello in the corner of her room. It lit up in the moonlight that softly shone through the large window, almost like a spotlight. It looked enticing, as if it was inviting her to play. If writing couldn’t help her clear her mind, she would try something else. The corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly with the anticipation of probably waking up half the school with her cello playing so late at night, and maybe that was the push she needed to grab her beloved instrument and walk onto their dorm’s balcony.

Wednesday loved playing the cello, she revelled in the deep, dark sounds it could create, how it made her fingers tremble with sound, how it would then echo through her soul and how certain notes, when played long enough, made her feel exactly like the gloomy emotions tugging at her heartstrings each and every day.

When playing, she was one with her cello, but often times she still used sheet music to help her learn new sonata. There was, however, one song she knew to heart. It was the sole reason she had wanted to pick up a cello in the first place. Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saëns— the Dance of Death. While the violin played the most important role in Saint-Saëns' masterwork, and she loved the sinister sound of strings mending together as one, the high tones of the violins never quite had the same effect on her as her cherished cello. Her parents would waltz to it whenever Wednesday played it again and again in their big foyer back home. It had even become a tradition to play it in their favourite cemetery at midnight on the Night of the Death— what weird people would call Halloween. Although unfortunately no skeleton ever crawled out of their grave for this annual party, it was a lovely family tradition for the Addams Family nonetheless.

Perhaps, somewhere subconscious, because she would never admit it to herself, she was feeling nostalgic. Maybe even longing for home. But when she sat down and straightened her back into the right posture, the first few strings her fingers pushed down, played the depressed signature intro of her favourite song.

Immediately, a weight fell of her shoulders, and she all but let out a large breath that she felt released everything that had happened today and the week before. There was no past or future, Wednesday was fully living in the moment, not even realising she had reached the end of the seven minute long tone poem before she started again, not caring that several lights had gone on inside some of the surrounding dorms.

Her eyes were closed as she let her body sway to the music she was creating, but they snapped open when she heard something. Although distant, the melody travelled through the night as an echo and it made her look up when she realised what it was. Somewhere, someone was answering her cello play by complimenting it by playing the violin part. Although slightly delayed because their sound travelled through the harsh wind, it was unmistakable that whoever it was, was answering her playing by playing along to Camille’s masterwork. Instead of stopping out of surprise, Wednesday took the violinist’s reply as a challenge, and upped the tempo sooner than was expected. It was faint, and it took a couple of seconds before the warm but shrill sounds of the violin answered in the tempo she had set. The corners of Wednesday’s mouth softly turned into a crooked grin as she stopped, knowing the next part was meant for a violin to shine. She stared out into the dark of the Vermont night, trying to see where her antagonist was playing from. But not even this night’s bright moon could light up the balconies far away, for the fog was blocking her view.

Just like she had hoped for, the violinist didn’t stop and hit every mark they were supposed to, making Wednesday catch herself softly swaying along. This was no ordinary player who had only recently picked it up. No, Wednesday’s admiration for this anonymous virtuoso was just and deserved.

She grabbed her bow, preparing herself to play support for the violin's next few bars of this section.

They were well into the composition, only having about two minutes left, so Wednesday knew what was to come. She looked down, through her thick lashes, smirked slightly, before once again upping the tempo, as was asked of the song. The cello’s dark, melancholic notes carried through the night and brought back those sinister violin tones. They clashed together, then mended as one. Like fire forging metal into a blade.

Wednesday’s head bobbed with each accentuated note and her arm and hand almost ached from how tight she had been gripping her bow, adamant on not making a mistake. But she was forced to open her eyes once more when Enid’s voice rang through the night,

“Wednesday!”

Immediately, a glare coated her face at the interruption. So, Enid wasn’t going to grant her wish to write or play the cello? She didn’t know the girl had it in her to be so cruel in her own way.

Wednesday spoke, lacing her voice with as much venomous annoyance as she could, “I was perfectly enjoying myself before you walked out.”

“I think the whole school was perfectly enjoying their sleep before you walked out, too.” Enid looked incredulous, as if to ask how her roommate could care so little about others.

“The night is the best time to be alive. Why would I care about those who don’t appreciate and take advantage of it like I do?”

“Well-” Enid stopped herself, not knowing of a witty or just comeback. She hadn’t known Wednesday for that long yet, but knew well enough that she’d hardly ever come out as a loser in a discussion or quarrel.

“Maybe you should call it a day for now… well, night, more so.”

Thing’s steps on the wooden floorboard caught both of their attention. Wednesday glared at him, and he immediately crawled behind Enid’s legs. “I’m going back in, it’s freezing out here.” Enid quietly excused herself and lifted Thing off the ground.

Wednesday let out a sigh once the two had disappeared. Her eyebrows furrowed in disappointment when she realised the wind no longer carried the sound of a violin. Maybe her counterpart had gone to bed as well.

She begrudgingly packed her cello and walked back to the circular window and opened it, already half stepping in before she heard it— the heartbreaking yet soft and slow solo finale of the violin’s part. She could only hear bits and pieces, thanks to the wind picking up and letting out a howl here and there, but she knew they were still out there. For the first time in a while, she smiled softly. Maybe Nevermore wasn’t so bad after all.

#wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday imagines #wednesday addams imagine

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goosetheluce · 9 months

Text

Teach Me (Gwen Stacy x Fem!Reader)

requested by anon: "gwen stacy x fem reader where gwen is trying to teach reader how to play the drums 😽😽"

warnings: suggestive tension, flirting, pet names, kissing

a/n: this is random, but i imagined gwen playing "spin" by taking back sunday, if you'd like a better picture of the fic

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You wrapped your fingers around the doorframe, peering over it from the hallway. You had just finished up a meeting stemming from your extracurricular. You marveled the ghostly stairwells; the school was basically empty, especially where Gwen was. You and Gwen had agreed to meet each other at the music room, where she usually practiced every day after school. As you strolled by the room, you saw her scrolling on her phone with her headphones beginning to blare music. She looked warm with the evening sun washed over her brown-and-blonde undercut.

She clearly had no idea you were just outside the room, still nodding along to her playlist.

Huh, you thought. She really doesn't see me. You stepped out from behind the wall and instead leaned against the doorframe. You crossed one of your ankles over the other and watched silently as Gwen immersed herself.

She had been tapping her drumsticks along to whatever song she was listening to against the drumset, but as the seconds ticked by, her rhythm incorporated the rest of her limbs and head.

Warming up, maybe?

With a quick tap on her phone, Gwen's headphones suddenly tuned into the speakers in the room. She slid her headphones off her ears, letting them fall to her shoulders. She twirled her right drumstick and positioned her shoe atop the bass, still studying the set beneath her.

A grin spread across her face, and her first movements began as the next song started. Initially, she went timidly along with the song, still seeming a bit reserved. To a stranger, she would have seemed at peace, but you knew Gwen. Her shoulders were slightly tensed, and her face remained relatively straight.

Just a few seconds later, though, the chorus hit, and Gwen began nearly abusing the set. Her shoulders loosened completely as her passion bubbled to the surface, crashing against the drums perfectly with the song. She began to scream along, her face twisting and throwing her body along with the current of the percussion.

Her head hung closer to the drums, hair swaying and bouncing as she nodded with such aggression it made your head hurt. Her muscles pushed against her milky skin as she kept drumming; veins, which were usually veiled, appeared. You realized her eyes were squeezed close while pounding away, and you wondered in awe how long she had been learning.

It all lasted but a minute before she finally looked in your direction and choked on the lyrics pouring from her mouth. She kicked on the wrong beat (the first and last time you'd ever hear such a mistake) and swiftly paused the music.

"Jesus, Y/N, I thought Halloween was two months away. Care to give me another heart attack?"

You let out a breathy laugh, striding to Gwen. "Wasn't my intention. You were fucking great, though." And hot, you thought separately. Sweat began dripping down Gwen's arms and face from the cease of action.

"Thanks! Been playing for a few years now," she explained casually. Your brow furrowed.

"A few years? I figured you'd been playing your whole life."

"Oh, hell no. I live in an apartment. I could only start learning once I got to high school, where there was an actual set."

You nodded, walking behind Gwen to play with her hair. Your fingers sifted through her coarse strands. She brought her hand up to gently wrap around your forearm absentmindedly.

"You're just a genius at drums, then," you remarked after a few moments. Gwen scoffed.

"I wouldn't say that...anyone can learn."

Your hands fell away from her hair to rest on your hips. "Oh, really?" you taunted. "Teach me, then." Gwen turned her head to where you could see her side profile. Her lips pulled into a smirk.

"Yes, ma'am," she teased. She rose from her seat and guided your shoulders to sit you down.

She leaned down to pick up her drumsticks, placing them in your open palms and shutting your fingers around them.

"There are 5 actual drums in most standard kits. There are 3 toms," she instructed, pointing to each respective piece. "The bass, and then the snare. There are also ride cymbals, hi-hats, and crash cymbals." You tried to absorb as much information as possible, clutching the sticks.

She snaked behind you, settling her hands on your shoulders once more. You could feel her intense eyes trained on the back of your neck.

"Hit the snare."

You reached toward the snare, timidly tapping it. It barely made a sound.

"I said hit it."

More force snapped against the drum this time. Gwen, now hovering beside your ear, smiled.

"Better. Now, kick the bass twice in a row."

You obeyed, beginning to quiver. Being around Gwen made you nervous. Butterflies erupted in your abdomen as her breath passed over your neck.

"Yeah, keep that going, babe. Immediately after the second kick, hit the snare and crash at the same time."

You fumbled the timing over and over again, hesitating with each do-over. Part of it had to do with the honeyed words Gwen rasped into your ear. You let out a shaky breath and closed your eyes.

Christ, I need her to kiss me.

You turned your head to face her, scanning her. Embarrassment scorched your cheeks. She was amused by this.

Giving in to your bottled frustration, you erupted from your seat and nearly got to Gwen's lips.

Nearly.

Gwen denied your attempt by firmly cupping your face in her hands. Her corners of her plump lips twitched with a small smirk. She leaned forward.

"Finish the sequence and you'll get what you want," she murmured, a tease edging her voice.

You groaned and plopped back on the seat, swiveling around to face the kit.

"Just focus, hon. You got it."

Impress her.

You took a deep breath, held it for a second, and started the progression as you released the air from your lungs. Your muscles tightened. You just wanted to get this right.

Right for her.

You messed it up again a few times, sweat pricking atop your skin with concentration. You felt the frustration settling in the cavity of your chest again. You felt Gwen's fingertips brush against your cheek from the back.

"Just let go," she suggested softly.

You nodded. "Okay."

As Gwen's body pressed up against your back, you closed your eyes and relaxed your muscles. You envisioned the routine in your head, eyes still closed, and went for it.

Getting out of your own head worked, and the moment you realized it did, you kept the rhythm going. After spending fifteen minutes trying to perfect the instructions from Gwen, the relief was sweet.

You stumbled again and stopped, but it didn't matter. You succeeded.

To your surprise, Gwen's arms wrapped around your waist and she pulled you out of your chair. She whirled you around and pulled your body tightly against her willowy build. She wound her fingers into the hair on the nape of your neck, pushing you towards her lips.

The kiss was heated, passionate. It lit you ablaze as her other hand slid down your body and rested firmly on your hips. When she pulled your lips apart, her eyes were glazed and heavy. Her cheeks were flushed with fire. Giggling at your dazed expression, she kissed your neck.

"Anyone can learn...with rewards."

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#lucy writes #lucy's anons #gwen stacy x reader #gwen x reader #spider gwen #gwen spiderverse #gwen stacy #ghost spider #ghost spider x reader #gwen stacy x fem!reader #gwen stacy x you #gwen stacy x y/n #spiderwoman #spider gwen x fem!reader #ghost spider x fem!reader #itsv #atsv #itsv x reader #atsv x reader

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milayawr · 7 months

Text

Sweet Apologies

Nikolai Lantsov x F!Reader

Summary: Anniversaries are important for Nikolai, but yet, he can ignore some tiny mistakes of yours.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2,027

Notes: I need a Nikolai Lantsov.

My requests are still open but I didn't have time to finish writing them. The school is keeping me busy enough. I'll finish them and share them, but you can share your sweet fic ideas with me!

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He knew that waiting for an angel might be so hard. It was devastating from the inside. His angel was not showing up, but he held onto his hope so tightly that his hope had been hurt.

He had everything ready. A romantic dinner with candle lights, some music to dance; cause you loved dancing and he was excellent at it. He even left his latest project to get ready. Everything was there but you.

The most important thing was you. He couldn't just sit, eat, dance, and chat all by himself at an anniversary of yours.

This was the second year that you both were together. After the war that happened Nikolai had confessed his love for you. There had been sweet moments between you two this year. Like he always had some place of his body injured just to be healed by you.

He knew that you were the best healer, even before he fell in love with you. You were brave, selfless, and careful. You had attended the war to heal people and Nikolai had to admit that he was fascinated by your selflessness, and a little bit scared for you.

You saved his life once, when he was injured you came to the rescue. He had seen He deserved to get his happy moments more, and you longed to give it to him. your face before so he was familiar with you, but he had never seen your pretty face that close. He could remember slightly because he was nearly unconscious but your sweet voice telling him things made his life better. Seeing your face had changed his life. He felt like he died that day and was reborn as a man who was precisely in love.

So after the war, he had his ways to see you more. When he understood that you flirt back with the charming king he took the first step.

The best choice he made was when he first kissed you and he didn't want to know about the last one. He wanted his last breath to be intertwined with yours, he didn't want to die without your kisses.

Your always shy kisses and touches... He would die for them.

He missed you.

He had to see you, touch you, kiss you, take your breath in his lungs... He needed you as he needed air.

But where were you?

It had been three hours. He was waiting and waiting for you to show up. He was clearly upset. First, he missed you because he hadn't seen your pretty face since last night. Second, it was an anniversary for saints' sake. Celebrating the anniversaries meant showing some kind of affection and love. Nikolai knew that you knew how he was looking forward to this night to come.

And yet, he was all alone in the room.

He blew out the candles as the clock went to midnight. Five hours. He spent five hours for you but you didn't show up. Maybe there was something wrong. He hoped it was wrong because he didn't want anything to happen to you.

Nikolai felt hopeless as he went to the healers' infirmary. You were always there. Working. Sometimes making out with your handsome lover, and sometimes even naughty things, but always working apart from the little getaways.

As he entered there, as always, he had everyone's attention. They started to whisper but he didn't care.

"Have you seen Y/N?" He asked to some girk that was passing by him.

"She left hours ago, My King." The healer said. "Actually left earlier today. She said she had to sleep because she felt so tired." She explained and explained.

Nikolai's face never went to relieved and this scared the girl a little. She looked like she was going to say more but Nikolai left her side.

He went right into your room. Where you started to stay at the palace. It was Nikolai's favorite place as it smelled like you.

He quietly entered your room. His eyes wander around your room to find your bed. He saw your figure lying on the bed. You didn't even bother to cover yourself up. He ushered to the bed.

Nikolai gently pulled the duvet and covered you up. He sat on the bed and watched your face. Your tangled hair was all over the pillow. He wanted to hold them and take their smell inside of him. They always smelled so nice.

"Nik," You murmured as he started to play with your hair gently.

"Yes, love." He whispered. His voice was low but his eyes were loud enough to express his love.

"Will you take me to the sea?" Your eyes were still closed and he was sure that you were still sleeping. He loved your little chats while you were asleep. It was cute.

He remembered his little promise when you learned about his days at the sea. As Sturmhond. You wanted to see the life that he lived as a privateer. He wanted to show you.

"Whenever you want." He was busy but he could delay things as he wished. He was the king after all.

"What about now?"

He laughed, "now?"

"Hmhm..."

He kissed your hair. "We can't now since you're sleeping, love."

Something left your lips but he wasn't sure what was it. He kept kissing and playing with your hair. As time passed he took his shoes off and laid next to you. You snuggled close to him as soon as he did that.

To you, he was an escape from the malicious reality of this world. He gave you feelings that only another version of you would feel. Love and being loved were what you desired secretly, but you never thought you'd have those. It took months and years to understand you loved him and he loved you.

You thought it was complicated but it was just that. Love.

Nikolai listened to your breathing as he fell asleep. After meeting you sleeping became as easy as he fell in love with you.

———

Shit.

You might be in deep shit.

Shit, indeed.

That was your first thought as you started to wake up. The curtains that you forgot to close couldn't help you with the sun at all. Your mind was as tangled as your hair. You felt two strong arms around you and it came—

You didn't want to open your eyes. As childish as it sounds, you just didn't care. You knew you couldn't face his disappointment. It was too hard to get through.

Yesterday was busier than you'd ever imagine. Your plans were the same as the last one. Work, leave early, get ready, and celebrate. But you were so tired that you left even earlier. You said that you should sleep before the evening. Not the whole evening.

But you couldn't help. It was a tiring day. But on the other hand, it was a special day. It was your anniversary. It meant everything for Nikolai.

If you kept pretending to sleep you'd never have to see his disappointment, sadness, and a bit of anger.

Yeah, just sleep.

"I know that you're awake, love."

"Nikolai, I'm so so so so sorry." You said as your eyes met. "I fell asleep and I know that I should never and I'm sorry for this."

His rough voice made you shiver. You wandered your hand around his chest as you yawned. You slowly opened your beautiful eyes. He was already watching you. He always did that. Waking up early just to watch you sleeping. It was a bit creepy but you didn't care at all.

You can't take time back, he always said. He gives these events so much importance. What earth were you on? You should've never slept.

"It's okay—"

You cut his sentence from the beginning. "I know it's not! Please stop pretending as if it's alright to ditch you."

"Y/N," he said softly. "It's really okay. You were tired and I saw it all this week. It's a busy working week. Also, I'd rather you rest than stay awake."

You were glowing and he could guess how much you had used of your small science. He always had the idea of healers having the easiest of all but he was definitely wrong.

He slowly kissed your forehead. "It's really okay."

"But I know that you're upset."

"I am, not gonna lie. But seeing you like this melts my sadness." He smiled as an idea popped up. "Let's have breakfast in the garden together. We can ask for anything you crave. I, for one, would kill to eat some bread with jam."

His love for that thing always made you laugh.

"You aren't angry, right?"

"You're kidding, right?" How can I be mad at a pretty face such as yours? Believe me, I'm not."

You knew it was slightly wrong but you were still relieved.

"I love you, Nik. I'm sorry."

"I love you. And stop apologizing." His hands wandered to your sides and his mouth came close to your ear to whisper. "But I might have to give you a punishment."

"What—"

Your laugh was the thing that stopped you from talking anymore. You kept laughing as he tickled your sides.

"Wait!" You screamed as you laughed more. "I—" You tried to continue, but still he was being naughty. "I thought— I was forgiven!"

He ended it as he left your cheek a kiss. "Now, you're fully forgiven, my sweet."

"Oh, I'm glad." You breathed. Your chin had hurt because of your laughing session. "I love you and I'm so—"

This time it was a kiss that interrupted you. His intoxicating lips were on yours in a second. Your only reaction was to kiss him back. It was a slow kiss. Laziest ever, but still special.

He pulled back to say something. "I told you to stop that." He left a tiny kiss again. "Come on," he pulled you with him as he got up. "Let's have breakfast and talk about your day, then my day, and after that maybe we will walk beside the lake. I'm all yours till tomorrow."

"I thought you had meetings."

"Not today. No, not when you have booked my whole day."

He was the sweetest man that ever entered your life and you loved him for it. You loved him for many things.

You got up smiling. He reassured you that he was not heartbroken, sad, mad, or disappointed. Having a day with him would fix his little broken emotions and you were far more than ready for it.

It was what love meant. Doing anything to make the other happy. Having a day with him would have to fix his little broken emotions and you were far more than ready for it. If he was happy, you were happy.

You'd be more than happy to spend this day with him. Because this was love. You were ready to do anything to have love even after your death. You wanted Nikolai to be your end.

You loved him and he loved you. It was that simple.

"Okay," you said. "Let's have breakfast and do whatever you want. I want it to be your day."

"Well, how can I say no to that." He smirked. "I'll be in my room, changing. You'll take me there." He winked at you as you giggled.

"We have a date then."

"Yes, we do my sweet lady."

You kept your smile on your face as you got ready for the day. You had to make it up for last night and you were going to try your best to keep him away from his daily duties.

This day was for him and you. Nothing to interrupt. You wished for this morning to go the same. You wanted to apologize without the words.

You were so sure that you'd make this day his best.

Last night was a mistake that you made because of your tiredness. But today you were fully recovered from yesterday and ready to make it up with your lover.

He deserved to get his happy moments more, and you longed to give it to him.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov x reader #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #shadow and bone #grishaverse fanfiction #fanfiction #books #sturmhond #fluff

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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 6 months

Text

Crush

Stranger Things Masterlist

Summary: You thought it was a good idea to go to that Halloween party. After all, everyone was going. But when you start getting harassed and made fun of, you realize you don’t belong there. Until someone unexpected decides to step up for you, even if it means getting injured in the process. Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!Reader Warning: Fluff, bullying, slight violence Word Count: 2536 Square filled: Accept Injury to Protect Someone for @hurtcomfort-bingo A/n: Okay so I was supposed to finish this and post it on Halloween, but like @deans-spinster-witch said, Halloween is not just a holiday, so here you go!! Don't forget to leave a feedback!! (Sorry for any mistake!)

At first it seemed like a good idea.

It wasn't your kind of night, obviously, and usually you would have declined and ignored the invitation, stayed home and watched a good horror movie with your cat. But this year, you promised yourself. Everybody kept saying it, without effort, you would never get anything. You had to do something to get what you wanted.

So this year, it’ll be different.

And then, you received an invitation. It was strange, how it got to you. Almost everyone had received them at school, but you usually never received one. It was either Steve or his friends that had them and decided who to invite, leaving behind the nerds and people they didn’t particularly like. It was the party that could not be missed, so every invitation mattered like a winning lottery ticket.

So how surprised were you when you found one in your favorite book at the school library. Now, you thought about it. Maybe someone forgot it in the book, or used it as a marker. But first of all, those invitations were worth a lot, so no one would ever risk leaving it behind or use it as a marker. And second, you picked up this book every day during lunch to read, and placed it in a particular spot on the shelf you only knew about. If someone else found it, it had to be a miracle or some sort.

And there was also kind of your name on the invitation, so…

It had to be for you, right?

Since it was in none other than Steve Harrington's big, dreamy house, the annual Halloween party was always highly anticipated. And since it was your first time being invited, how could you say no, especially now that you wanted your year to be different?

Your costume was very simple, and although it was out of your comfort zone, you wanted to wear it. The skirt reached almost to your knees, so not too short. The collar wasn't low-cut, although the sleeves fell down your arms, baring your shoulders more than you would have liked, but it wasn't anything too significant. The maid outfit was cute, with the little apron and the bows here and there, you felt pretty. Beautiful.

Taking a deep breath, you made sure your hair still had those beautiful curls you took an hour to style before entering the house. The music was echoing outside, you started to hear it a street away and now that you were near the door, the booms of the song seemed to be ringing within your body and not from the house.

So, okay, you never went to that kind of party, but you knew the ethics to have. Don't knock, never arrive on time, even less early, and above all, have fun.

“You can do it, Y/n,” you cheered yourself up. A barely trembling hand rested on the cold doorknob. Then, you twist it to open the door. The music wafted from inside, along with the heat and a strong smell of alcohol, popcorn, and sweat hitting you in the face.

Not letting that slow you down, you took a step forward and entered the house.

The music wasn't that bad. There were drinks other than alcohol offered. Popcorn wasn't the only snack on the table. Most of the smokers were outside. Yeah, you were cheering yourself up about the party and finding excuses to stay.

Oh, and Steve was there. Obviously, since it was his house. But even if the party wasn’t at his place, he probably would have been there anyway. Steve wasn't someone who missed these kinds of parties.

But, just thinking that maybe, surely, you would meet him caused your heart to beat frantically. Suddenly, you felt hot, and it wasn't the juice you'd been sipping for the past few hours that was going to help. The need for air won out, so you headed towards the back to get out of the house.

It wasn't that there was anything between you and Steve. It was probably all in your head, anyway. But since the signs were raining down around you, how could you not imagine that there was something?

There was how you kept falling on him, or rushing into him, how he had the reflex to reach out to catch you, and as he did so, his perfect scent enveloped you. How he always sat in front of you in class and almost every time, turned to ask you something. One day, it was a pencil. Then, what day it was. Or to make a pretty bad joke that you laughed at anyway. How he would wink at you then, run a hand through his perfect hair to straighten it, and turn around to listen to the class. When he had to pass the papers back, he always took the trouble to get up and distribute them to everyone. And for you, he always said “Here you go, my sweet Y/n.”

It was probably stupid and selfish, but you had a big crush on him since forever and liked to imagine he did all of that because he liked you too.

Your head in the clouds full of Steve, you weren't looking where you were heading. Now outside, you were looking up at the starry sky while walking, completely lost in your thoughts when you hit something solid.

Of course, it woke you up completely like you just received a cold shower. Unfortunately, too late to realize that you were still holding your drink, the cup full of juice becoming the first impact with the obstacle, which poured all the liquid out and splashed it on...

“Oh come on, fuck! Can’t watch where you’re going, freak?!”

Tommy Hagan himself. Steve's best friend and the guy you avoided as much as possible in school, even going so far as to change hallways when you saw him in the distance with Carol. And as if by magic, disguised as a cat - “disguised” being a very big word, her body was barely covered in fabric, if you didn't count the ears on her head-, she appeared behind him.

“I’m so so so sorry,” you hastened to say, hoping deep down that maybe, somewhere in them, there was an ounce of kindness. Turning your head from left to right, you looked around for a cloth, anything to clean the dark stain spreading across Tommy's white shirt. But of course there was nothing.

“Can’t look where you’re going?” Carol jumped in, her voice loud for everyone to hear. Feeling dozens of pairs of eyes on you, your whole body felt like getting on fire. You hated this kind of attention.

“Hey, I said sorry, okay?” Not knowing what to do to make things right and feeling the nervousness building to a critical level within you, you started backing away.

“You should be sorry for being there. Why are you even here? Who the fuck invited the teacher’s pet?” Carol added, a hand placed on her hip. Behind her, you could hear some people agreeing with her words.

Your heart sank.

Obviously, because you were the best in your class, people saw you as the teacher's pet. However, Steve too, was one of the best in several classes. And no one made that kind of comment to him.

“No one wants you here, loser!” Someone shouted somewhere. Each word felt like a stab in the back. Arching more and more forward, you wanted to hide. Hide in yourself. Disappear.

“You ruin everything you touch, clearly.” Now right in front of you, Carol was looking down on you. By wanting to disappear, you made yourself very small, so much she seemed giant in front of you. “And what are you supposed to be, a maid? Go clean this, then.”

Everything happened quickly.

The cup Carol was holding, this one containing not juice but something worse, beer, flew in your direction. All its contents left the plastic and ended up on you. On your costume. The smell rose to your nose with nausea and tears burning your eyes. But that wasn't the worst. No, the worst part was the laughter that accompanied her gesture. Tommy walked right into your personal space, so close that you could smell the perfume he put on in a far too much quantity.

“You’re insufferable.”

A blink of the eyes. Tears ran down your cheeks. A second blink, and you were about to turn around and run away when heat pressed against your back, trapping you between Tommy and the exit.

“What the fuck is going on?”

You recognized the voice immediately. Shame overwhelmed you once again, and you opened your mouth to apologize, to say that you were planning to leave immediately, but when you turned your head to look behind you, it was to see that Steve's attention was completely on Tommy.

“What do you mean?” Tommy stepped back, both arms outstretched. “I’m just telling the truth. No one wants her here. I don’t even think half the people here know who she is.”

More stabs in the back. He was right. Of course. You didn’t have your place here. Suddenly, you missed your cat at home.

“Are you okay, Y/n?”

Not expecting the voice to get so soft and to be directed to you, you didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you kept your head down and looked at the ground. When the heat left your back and the black shoes entered your sight, you finally lifted your head, more tears falling down your cheeks as you met Steve’s eyes.

God. He was so close. So handsome. And he just asked you if you were okay. You were frozen for a moment, not able to move a single muscle. Completely in the trance of his gaze. The thumps of your heart were so loud, ringing in your ears and pushing against your rib cage.

“Alright, everyone! Mr. Loverman here has a little crush for the nerd!” Tommy shouted for everyone to hear, but most of the people were back to minding their own business. Steve had that power, after all. It was his house, his party. His rules.

“I’m gonna ask you to leave,” he said, barely acknowledging what Tommy just said.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know you wanted her that bad, huh?” Tommy added, getting dangerously too close to Steve.

“Guys, please, it’s fine, I’ll just leave,” you muttered, not liking where this was going.

“No. Y/n, you are welcome here. Tommy, Carol, not so much.” Sticking out a finger, Steve pressed it against his friend’s torso. Well, you guessed there weren’t really friends anymore? The way they looked at each other, clearly, something was off. “Leave.”

“And what if we don’t?” Tommy stepped forward, not impressed at all by Steve.

“Alright then,” Steve shrugged and turned around to leave. You met his gaze for half a second, but it was half a second too long. The moment Steve saw you were still crying, something changed. His whole facial expression switched like he was finally removing his mask. And then, he was spinning around, his fist clenched tight, and punched Tommy right in the chin.

You really weren’t expecting a fight tonight. Especially not a fight because of you. You already hated being in the middle of the attention, even more being the cause of a fight at a party. Already, people were circling as Steve and Tommy were fighting while all you could do was stand back and watch, both hands on your mouth as more tears ran down your cheeks.

Some tried to pull them apart while most of the spectators were cheering. While the fight didn’t last very long, it felt like forever until finally, two people were able to drag Tommy away from a very bruised Steve laying on the ground. Once Tommy was properly kicked out of Steve’s property, followed by Carol, the crowd dissipated and you immediately rushed to Steve.

Sitting up, he had a bloody nose and one of his eyes was already starting to swollen. You kneeled next to him as he was wiping his nose and spitting blood on the other side.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You checked his face, his injuries, and cursed yourself for not having anything to press against his face, like ice, or just a cold cloth. “I’m so sorry,” you immediately apologized. Somewhere behind you, a hand gave you what you wanted, a wet cloth that you took and softly pressed against his split lip and nose. Steve winced.

“Don’t be sorry,” he muttered and sighed. “Tommy went too far.”

“B-But,” you stammered, panic still strong in your body. Your whole body was shaking, you didn’t know if it was because of how cold you were since you were soaked in beer, or because of all the anxiety.

Like he was feeling your worry, Steve's hand landed softly on your wrist. Immediately, your shaking stopped as the warmth spread all around you.

“I was happy to see you decided to come,” he finally admitted. Your eyes were big as you didn’t think something like that would come out of Steve’s mouth.

“But it got you injured…” You couldn’t help a sob to break your voice and felt even guiltier when you noticed Steve's reaction. His eyes filled with a sadness you never wanted to see in his beautiful eyes.

“If it meant protecting you, then I would do it again.”

That had to be a dream. Why was an injured, beaten up Steve, so sweet to you? It was almost like he…

No. He couldn’t… Have a crush on you, right?

Your heart was still beating frantically, but this time, it wasn’t a bad thing. The organ in your chest was hoping, expecting, praying for this moment to be true.

“The invitation to this party,” you started, unsure if saying what you wanted to say would ruin the moment. Yes, you were still outside. Yes, there were people around, even though most of them were completely unaware of what was happening or interested. But you didn’t mind them. Not when your world seemed to turn inside out, your whole insides feeling like a merry go round never stopping. “It appeared in my favorite book in the library. Isn’t that weird, it was like someone knew I read it everyday during lunch.”

A smile so beautiful stretched his lips. Even if it was split, Steve didn’t seem to mind the pain in doing so. “Yeah. How weird? How could someone know you loved The Hobbit so much?”

This time, the smile reached your face.

“How did you know it was The Hobbit?”

A wink from his non injured eye. “Let’s go talk inside, you’re freezing.”

Even if he was the one injured, Steve helped you get up and led you inside. No one made another comment against you or him, people even got out of the way to let you two walk in. Even if he lost the fight against Tommy, Steve was still the king.

And you had a crush on him. He had a crush on you. How cool was that?

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa @wickedinspirations@fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

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callsign-dexter · 5 months

Text

My Daughter, My Heart Pt. 2

Summary: Jake and Javy are on their deployment and now Elizabeth is alone. Having not been able to stand being alone in Lemoore, CA she moves to San Diego, CA.

Pairings: Jake Seresin x Ex-Girlfriend (OC: Elizabeth Taylor), Jake Seresin x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, pregnancy, cursing

Masterlist

My Daughter, My Heart

Prolog Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Javy and Elizabeth stayed on the couch for a few hours. Javy hadn't heard a word from Jake since he sent that text message and he was going to give him an ear full when he got home. Elizabeth cried her eyes out until she couldn't cry any more tears. "Are you sure you don't want me to tell Jake?" Javy asked Elizabeth as he came back to the couch with a cup of tea that he had gone to get her a few moments ago. She shrugged as she took it from his hands.

"I don't know. I mean I'm pissed that he did this to me but he also didn't know. What do you think I should do? Why did he leave?" She asked him. Javy sighed.

"You tell him when you're ready. I can't guarantee it'll stay a secret. We got deployment papers." He said and she nodded.

"If it comes out then it comes out. Just please don't say anything outright. When do you guys leave?" She asked and Javy nodded.

"He leave tomorrow and I leave the day afterwards. You got it, Liz." Javy said and hugged her.

"Thank you, Javy. Please don't leave me too." She said and he shook his head.

"Not going to happen. However, I do need to get going and start packing." Javy said and she nodded and she hated the thought of him leaving but he needed to go. She showed him out with a million thoughts running through her head.

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When Jake got into this truck after grabbing his stuff from his and Javy’s office he looked at his phone again. Uneasiness filled his stomach and he just wanted to flip back time and forget what he did. He really did love Elizabeth, hell they were high school sweethearts. He hates breaking her heart but it would be so much worse if he didn't come back from this mission. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and headed to his and Javy’s house. When he arrived Javy’s car was not there and he was thankful for that. Jake turned the engine off and headed inside he figured that he better go ahead and pack and maybe consider staying on base. "Fuck. I made a mistake." Jake said as he was packing for his deployment. He ran a hand down his face but continued to pack. He was almost done packing when he heard Javy’s car pull up and the engine cut off. He sighed and went downstairs as he walked into the door.

"You fucked up." Javy said pointing at him and Jake hung his head.

"I know. How bad?" He asked looking back up at him.

"Bad, Jake. Really bad." Javy said and Jake's heart clenched. He never wanted to cause her pain but yet that is what he did and he'll forever hate himself. "Let's just finish packing and get ready to go." Javy said and Jake nodded and they just that.

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Elizabeth didn't know how she could go on with the thought of knowing that she was pregnant with the baby of the man that she still loved. But she is a smart woman and she would figure it out and that is exactly what she told herself as she watched Javy drive off. She took a couple of deep breaths and got ready to cook some supper and head off to bed and start her normal routine without Jake beside her. She turned around and faced the kitchen and looked at it remembering all of the good times that her and Jake had like dancing in the kitchen with music playing in the background while supper is being cooked. The memory brought a smile to her face but it quickly fell when she remembered how she came in and found it bare of his items. She shook her head and started on dinner and thought about what she was going to do now.

Once dinner was ready she got her some food and headed to the couch where she sat and turned on the TV to something completely random. She wasn't really watching the show more like eating and thinking of how this all could have been avoided. Sure they have been through deployments together and of course she was scared that he wouldn't come back but that just made them stronger. So, why was this one so different? Was it because of the length of the deployment? She would never know but for now all she could do was move on and raise this their baby alone. Maybe a new start was a the right option. Before she knew it, it was time for bed and tomorrow would be a different day and maybe she would have somethings figured out. She would be talking to her boss about an transfer to somewhere else. "Why Jake? Why now?" She said into the room wishing he could give her an explanation but he couldn't and that just made her cry as she got ready for bed.

The next morning came quicker than she would have liked but she got up and started her routine. She was going to be making an appointment to see an OB/GYN on her lunch break. As she was in the kitchen making breakfast it hit her that Jake was leaving today and she deiced to give him a call even though she knew that he wouldn't answer. It didn't even ring just went straight to voicemail.

You've reached Jake Seresin. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.

Hey, Jake. It's me. I hope you have a good deployment and get back safely. I still love you. I just wanted you to know that. Goodbye, Jake.

She ended the voicemail with tears in her eyes and then she stared at her phone thinking about deleting his number or blocking it but decided it against it. She put her phone away and got her stuff and headed into work earlier than usual. She needed to talk to her boss first thing.

When she got into her car she opened the garage and started the engine. She backed out and closed the garage as she started to drive she stopped by the mailbox and grabbed the mail and continued her drive to the base. It was only a 10 minute drive to the base and when she got in there she got on with ease. She's going to hate this drive from now on and this base but is always going to love the school. She parked in an empty spot and killed the engine and got out and headed inside and straight to the main office, thankfully Mr. Saver was in and she knocked on the door and got a faint "Come in." She opened the door and smiled.

"Good morning, Mr. Saver." She said and he looked up and smiled.

"Ah! Miss. Taylor! What can I do for you?" He asked and got up as she sat down in a chair and him on the edge of his desk.

"I need to transfer." She said deciding to come out and say it and he frowned.

"Everything ok?" He asked and she shook her head.

"No. My long-term boyfriend and I broke up yesterday and I found out I was pregnant. I need to get away from this place. Everything reminds me of him." She said and he nodded.

"I'll see what I can do. There is a school in San Diego, CA on the Miramar Navy base looking for another teacher. I can get in touch with them and see about getting you transferred, if you want." He said and she nodded.

"Please. That would be great." She said feeling hopeful.

"It may take a month or two getting everything transferred." He said and again she nodded.

"I'm willing to wait." She said and nodded.

"We're going to miss you." He said and stood and so did she and hugged him. "If you need anything in the mean time or at all please don't hesitate to call, Melissa and I are willing to help and give tips on kids." He said they chuckled and pulled apart. It was true she had grown close to a lot of people and he was one.

"Thank you so much." She said "I won't hesitate to call or ask." She said and he smiled and held the door open for her and she went to her classroom to get the day started.

Lunch time rolled around and she had given up the hope that Jake was going to call her back, it broke her heart. She headed to her appointment that was on base, she was nervous about it but she needed to know for sure and what to do. As she walked in she walked up to the receptionist, who was very nice, and she gave her some papers to fill out as she waited. It was easy to fill them out and she got them done pretty fast. She took the papers up to the desk and gave them back. Then she went back to sit down.

She didn't have to wait long until she was called back. She was nervous and the nurse could sense that. She talked to Elizabeth like she was an old friend and she loved that and it made her nerves ease up. She left her in the room by herself and now she had to wait. 10 minutes rolled by and the doctor came in and smiled at Elizabeth. "Good morning, Miss. Taylor." She said and she smiled.

"Please call me Elizabeth. I get called Miss Taylor all day at school." She said and they both chuckled.

"Alright, Elizabeth. I'm Dr. Olivia. It says here that you think you might be pregnant." She said looking down at the papers and then back up.

"Yes, I took a test yesterday at lunch and it came up positive." She said and Dr. Olivia nodded.

"We'll take some blood samples and do a physical and talk about some medical history. I'll send Nurse Harper in to draw some labs." She said and Elizabeth nodded with a smile and she left not even a minute later Nurse Harper was coming in and introducing herself to Elizabeth and started to draw the labs. It was over before she knew it and that was thanks to Nurse Harper talking to her throughout the process.

"I'll send these off and we'll get them back shortly." She said and Elizabeth nodded and headed off. Everything was quick and done efficiently. 20 minutes later Dr. Olivia was walking back in with a smile.

"I first want to say congratulations, you're about a week pregnant." She said and Elizabeth smiled and tears formed for many different reasons but she always wanted to be a mom especially with Jake but now it was just without Jake. "We'll get along with your physical and then some medical history." She said and Elizabeth nodded and that went by super fast and everything came back good. She didn't have any medical problems with her or her family. When she asked about Jake's she answered with ease, especially since he didn't have any and neither did his family, even though it was painful to talk about him. She left the appointment satisfied and a smile on her face and went back to work.

The rest of the day went without a hitch and when she was packing up Mr. Saver walked in with a smile. "I have some great news." He said as she looked up and she smiled.

"Oh?" She asked

"Yes, you got the transfer. You're going to be transferring in two months." He said and she could've squealed but refrained from it.

"That's great news! Thank you so much!" She said and got up and hugged him and then they pulled apart and he walked out of the room and she finished up her work and headed home.

When she got home she started to pack the things in boxes that she wasn't going to use. She did this all with a smile on her face this was a good thing for her. After taking a break and eating something she sat on the couch and turned on the TV to finish out the night. She found herself rubbing her stomach. "It's just you and me. We'll get through this together." She said finding herself smiling.

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There wasn't much contact with Jake and Javy on their deployment at least there wasn't going to be for at least 2 months. Javy was still absolutely furious with Jake. Jake still felt guilty for what he did but in his mind, it was the right thing to do. "How was Elizabeth?" Jake asked as he and Javy sat in the common area of the ship.

"Heartbroken." Javy said looking at Jake as he hung his head and guilt ran through his heart. "She's going through a rough patch and she needed you. You turned your back on her." Javy said and Jake was silent and jaw clenched.

"What the hell does that mean?" Jake asked and Javy looked at him.

"It's not my place to tell." Javy said and got up and left leaving Jake to his thoughts. He knew he fucked up. He didn't have to be reminded of it. Yes, he asked about her but it hurt to even say her name.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

2 months flew by quickly and before Elizabeth knew it she was settling into her home. Most of the boxes were unpacked. There was a slight baby bump forming and that made her happy. She had her first prenatal checkup and another medical checkup 3 days before she started her teaching job. Jake had passed her mind every now and then but not much.

She needed to go to the grocery to stock up on some stuff that she needed and that is exactly what she did. She grabbed her keys and plugged in the closest grocery store in her GPS and headed that way. It didn't take long and before she knew it she was parking and walking into the store. Elizabeth grabbed a crate and began her shopping. As she was turning the corner of an isle she bumped into another cart and her hand went to her stomach when it accidentally hit it. "Oh! I'm so sorry." A husky voice said and she looked up to find a tall, handsome, brunette, and blue-eyed man and she swore her heart stopped. "Are you ok?" He asked and that seemed to snap her out of her trance.

"Yea I'm fine." She said with a smile.

"I'm Grant Braxton." He said and held out his hand for her to shake and she did and smiled.

"I'm Elizabeth Taylor." She replied.

"How far along are you?" He asked she pulled a confused face.

"Huh?" She asked

"You protected your stomach only expecting mothers do that." He said and she smiled.

"2 months." She said and he smiled. "How did you know?" She asked.

"I'm a doctor." He replied "What do you do? I haven't seen you around." He asked.

"I actually just moved here. I'm a teacher." She said. They must've talked for what seemed like hours but was really 20 minutes and they really hit it off.

"I would love to take you out some time." He said and her smile grew bigger.

"I would love that." She said and they exchanged phone numbers and then they finished shopping and he walked her to her car. They said goodbye to each other and headed off their own ways. She sat in her car for a minute. She couldn't help but stop smiling. For the first time after Jake broke her heart, she felt happy. This was gonna be good for her and the unborn child.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@persesphonestears

@grandstrangerphantom

@callsigns-haze

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justalildumpling · 1 year

Text

⇢ the waiting game

synopsis: chenle had always described his life as a game with multiple chapters and characters, with you being a discontinued part of the franchise that he had always hoped would be renewed. but who knew that one drunken phone call would be the story arc that brought you back?

pairing: chenle x reader genre: ex best friends to ???, angst, fluff word count: 1.4k warnings: mentions of alcohol/drunkenness, the word “ass” was used once note: wrote this ages ago to fuel my angsty writing mood after listening taylor swift too much but wanted to finish writing it to upload it for chenle’s bday🥳🥳(also the way this was meant to be <200 words…)

After sharing a dorm with six chaotic grown men, Chenle had thought to have experienced many weird situations in his life, ranging from witnessing Hyuck running out of the apartment building in nothing but his underwear at 2am due to a faulty fire alarm to Jisung dropping all 4 dozen eggs on the carpet right before the landlord came to inspect their housing situation.

But never did he expect to get a call from his ex best friend from middle school, 2am on a Saturday night.

He hesitated at first, his fingers hovering over the green button on his phone. His heart slowly picked up speed as he eventually decided to answer.

He didn't exactly know why his hands started to get clammy as he held his phone to his ear waiting for you to speak. Despite the title of "ex best friend", the two of you never ended your friendship on bad terms, nor did you exclusively end the friendship at all.

The two of you initially became friends in fifth grade when your teacher had sat you together at the back of the classroom for talking too much, though they soon realised their mistake as you passed each other very artistic doodles of each other and failed to contain your laughter.

Your friendship continued all throughout middle school however as you ended up in different classes, lunchtimes that were once spent together playing tag grew into him playing basketball and you settled down on the school's courtyard with the friends that you had made during class.

The occasional waves and hellos in the corridors during high school turned into awkward glances and eventually disinterest in one another.

Though it wouldn't exactly be a lie if Chenle said that he didn't miss your lively presence at times, maybe when he came across your doodles as he cleared his desk out for the first time since primary school or when he accidentally came across your contact page instead of someone else.

He could hear blaring music from the other end of the line, almost a little too loud for his liking as he held his phone further from his ear than usual. Though there was only the sound of the cheering crowd and a lack of your voice.

Maybe you had buttdialled him by accident? It was something that he did a bit more frequently than he should or maybe your voice was overwhelmed by whatever was happening at the club.

"Hello?" He had spoken up cautiously, turning off his computer game.

There was no response for a few seconds, almost proving his butt dialling theory. Almost.

"I want my best friend back." Your voice suddenly spoke, the silence lingering between the phone lines once again. The words which were stubbornly stuck at the tip of your tongue, graciously falling like a rapid stream.

"I miss talking to you everyday about the stupidest thing, I hate how this was how our friendship became. I hate how I used to tell you everything but I felt like I can't even say hello anymore. I miss everything about us."

Chenle sat silently on the edge of his bed, taking in your abrupt confession. There was a feeling of relief in his chest, as butterflies fluttered around his stomach.

You also felt the same way.

"Y/n, are you drunk?"

"No of course not!" You slurred before muttering, "Maybe…"

Chenle rolled his eyes, "Y/n where are you?"

"Not gonna lie to you, I have no clue." You replied, a laughter bubbling up in your throat, "I think we're at the new JYP club? Why? Are you going to pick me up?"

"How are you going to get home otherwise?"

An infectious laughter escaped his lips as your voice disappeared from the other end once again, he could imagine the pout you had always held with him. Your eyebrows slightly narrowed, your cute little nose scrunched up and your bottom lip partly jutted out.

It was a facial expression that he was used to seeing, most definitely due to his hobby of teasing you every other second. But how could he not? Not when everything you did seemed so loveable in his eyes.

Not that he ever admitted it or ever planned to admit that to your face.

The feelings he harboured for you oftentimes felt like a game, the one with the never ending story arcs, new characters appearing in every version and eventually discontinued, leaving all the players in desperation for any news for a renewal or an update at the least.

But who knew that the game he had been waiting for since middle school would be randomly updated on a Saturday night with the starting dialogue of:

"Chenle, I really want McDonald's. Can I please get a happy meal?"

Yeah. Not him, that's for sure.

l♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎l

Chenle didn't exactly know what he was doing, nor did his roommates when he told them he was heading out in the middle of the night without any explanations.

"I'll explain later," He sighed, grabbing the car keys and his bucket hat from the coffee table avoiding the suspicious glances from Jaemin.

He should've figured that the resident night owl would be up at this time of night, and definitely should've expected his motherly instincts to kick in, causing him to wake up the rest of his roommates to bombard his phone with concerned messages.

He drove down the empty streets of the city, the old Lauv songs playing on the aux with the occasional text notifications from his friends. He really considered putting his phone on silent or better yet, blocking their asses for interrupting his playlist every few seconds. But he resisted, taking a deep breath in.

Focus. The faster you get there, the faster you'll know she's safe.

Much to his relief, you stood outside of the club's entrance in one piece, tentatively glancing between your phone and the incoming cars pulling up in front.

You had gotten prettier since the last time he had met you, losing most of your baby fat on your cheeks and the long hair that was once tied back into a ponytail was let loose to sway against your back. Though, your smile remained the same from high school, the type of warmth which reached the eyes. It was always one of his favourite features about you.

It was pretty, as it always was.

But who was he kidding, you were always breathtaking in his eyes. Never failing to make his heart trip and tumble around the inside of his chest whenever you giggled at his stupid antics.

So when he met your twinkling eyes as he got out of his car, it felt like his middle school days all over again. You running up to greet him with that captivating smile of yours that he grew to love, with his damn heart threatening to spill out of his chest.

Pulling him into a tight hug, you buried your face into the nape of his neck, "You actually came."

"I did."

As the two of you stood in the middle of the road entangled in each other's arms, it felt as if time had paused for you. The booming music from inside the club was muffled, the street lights paving through the darkness and illuminating your figures.

It was like everything had fallen back into place, just like before. When it was only you and him, Y/N and Chenle. The main characters of this nameless series of this prolonged game. The game where the male protagonist was pathetically in love with his best friend with no hopes left of her ever reciprocating it back.

But perhaps it was the fact that he was running on four hours of sleep the night before or perhaps it was the nervousness of reuniting with you again that was kicking in but as your body clung onto his, he swore that he could feel a faint quickening heartbeat that rivalled his own.

And maybe, just maybe, the waiting game wasn't so bad after all.

taglist: @xxxx-23nct @maeumiluv @produmads @polarisjisung @wooyoung-a @w3bqrl

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iamnotoriginalphil · 1 year

Note

Thanks for all your great Larissa stories - could you maybe write a Larissa X Reader where reader has a secret thinking spot on a hidden balcony. But it's not so secret when Larissa is there one day to hear a new solo from Wednesday - which makes it complicated 'cause reader has a big crush. After that they keep on meeting there but can't get a confession out that they like each other until emotion boil over

Here you go Anon. I hope you like it.

“Oh, sorry.”

You were frozen in the window, halfway out from climbing through. A head turned towards you, eyes slowly opening. There was music in the air and the night was cool, the perfect night to spend outside lost in thought. Unfortunately you appeared to not be the only one who thought so.

“It’s alright,” Larissa said, offering you a soft smile, “were you coming to listen to Wednesday play?”

“Is that Wednesday?” You finished climbing out of the window, “I had no idea.”

“She’s really quite talented,” she said.

“I can leave you be if you’d rather listen in peace,” you said as she turned away from you, smiling up at the night sky with closed eyes.

“No, join me, please,” she said, reaching out towards you to usher you closer.

You stepped up beside her to the railing. Her eyes were still closed and her smile widened across her face. You turned to look up at her, enjoying the unprecedented ability to watch her without being seen. Taking in every single detail, it only made your heart beat faster.

Truth was, you’d been coming out to the balcony to indulge in your thoughts of her. The way her voice was like a velvet caress, the sound of her chuckle reverberating through her bones, how with one look she could take your breath away. Working with her was torture. All you could think about was how much you wanted to whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

“I didn’t realise anyone else knew about this balcony,” you said, once the music had ended.

“I’m not sure there’s a secret in this school I’m unaware of,” she replied.

Your cheeks heated up under the sweep of her twinkling eyes. All you could think about was your own secret, the secret that sang from your heart filling you with a yearning for her. The secret of your late night thoughts and the fantasies you could lose hours to. The secret of your overwhelming crush on her.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone else know about this little spot,” she said.

“Oh, no, I-“ You snapped your mouth shut before you could spill the actual secret.

“You…?” she prompted, eyes sparkling.

“I don’t want to take away from anyone,” you said, doing your best to cover up your mistake.

“I suppose it’s good that I rather enjoy having this place to myself,” she said.

“Oh.” You weren’t sure how to interpret that.

“Although, it was rather nice sharing the music with someone.” She smiled down at you.

You supposed it wasn’t surprising you kept running into her on the balcony after that evening. It started as simply sharing in music, turning into drinks when she brought a bottle of wine and two glasses, and conversation.

Which did nothing to stop the massive crush you had on her.

If anything you were finding yourself craving those evenings more and more with each passing day. It was becoming distracting, the way your head was constantly caught on your snatched moments on the balcony. If her glittering smiles directed towards you in the halls was any indication, you might not be the only one.

You found her sitting on the balcony a few weeks in, two garden chairs positions to stare out. You sunk down into the free chair with a sigh.

“Long day?” she asked.

You didn’t want to tell her exactly how long it was. You hadn’t been able to focus on anything, knowing you were going to be alone with her. The small glimpse you’d gotten of her that day had set your heart racing and it hadn’t quite gone back to normal since.

“It’s certainly been a day,” you said.

She passed you a glass of wine with an understanding smile. You took a long drink from it, then immediately regretted it. You thought you’d been doing well keeping your crush under wraps. Adding more than a little alcohol to the mix might not help in keeping your secret.

“We’ve gotten to that point in semester when the students are going a little crazy,” she said with a little laugh.

“Yes, the students,” you replied, flushing when her eyes swept over you, curiosity lighting her up.

She let the silence fall once again without asking you what you were on about. You took another sip from your glass before turning your eyes over to her. Her head was tipped back and her eyes were closed, seemingly enjoying the cool air. She was so beautiful it made your heart ache.

You weren’t expecting her to turn her head towards you, smiling as her eyes fluttered open. Her eyes swept over you, a playful twinkle lighting her up from the inside out. You felt your breath catch and the need to flee entered your bloodstream. She’d caught you staring. It was like a nightmare. You stumbled to your feet, wine sloshing over your hand in your haste. Her smile slipped.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I should…” You turned your head to stare at the window you could climb through to escape the situation.

You didn’t realise she’d stood as well until her hand wrapped around your wrist. She lifted your hand to her mouth, lips sucking the wine off your skin. You thought you might combust in that moment.

“Don’t want to waste it,” she murmured, looking up at you from lowered eyelashes.

You had no words, frozen as your thoughts raced. She was still watching you, waiting. You blinked, something molten beginning to spread through your body.

Your next actions weren’t your own. You grasped the back of her neck, pulling her in. Your lips landed on hers a bit harder than you expected, but she was smiling into the kiss. Her hand pressed to the small of your back, tugging you against her body.

“I like you so much,” you mumbled against her lips.

“Thank god for that,” she said, “because I like you too.”

“You do?” You drew back just far enough to see her face.

“I’d hardly be here if I didn’t,” she said.

“I’ve…” You hesitated, not sure if you should say it, but you were already in deep enough, “I’ve had the biggest crush on you for so long.”

“Really?” The surprise was gratifying. You hadn’t been as obvious as you were scared you had been. She hadn’t known every secret in the school then.

“Since the first moment I saw you,” you replied.

Her smile was bright enough to light up the sky. You promised you’d do everything in your power to make her smile like that every single day of her life. If she gave you the chance.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to go on a date some time?” you asked.

“I thought this was a date,” she said, eyes twinkling.

You laughed, kissing her again and again and again.

#larissa weems imagine #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems imagine #principal weems x reader

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he-goes-down · 7 months

Text

0. There Was A Time

fic chapters/warnings/disclaimers/ect

:DISCLAIMER:

Mentions of drugs/ sex ect.

English is not my first language

POV changes

x reader

inconsistent updates

time line is not perfect or accurate

Character may also not be accurate

I'll also be posting this on wattpad and maybe ao3

So if you see it wasn't stolen<3

Also i dont know how tumblr works and how to link chapters together(someone send help)

ALSO THIS NOT EDITED IN ANYWAY SO SORRY IF THERE ARE SPELLING MISTAKES

THANK YOU FOR READING MWUAH MWUAH

LEAVE COMMENTS <3

The studio was warm in the coldest night of this Autumn, warm yellowish light and the red carpeted floor made it feel like a cosy log cabin. A full drum set with a few too many ride cymbals and windchimes sat close to the middle of the fat bare bricked wall, with a small metal bucket that had the remains of broken splinter drumsticks. A rack of guitars and two bass holders stood next to the right wall where an old armchair sits, a few different sized amps scattered round the square room. Right in front of the glass that separates the control room from the studio three mic stand in a line with noise cancelling boxes surrounding each of them.

In the control room there is a strong smell of weed and other smokeable herbs, "No! You can't take Runaway Blues off the album!" A man with short shoulder length brown hair and a moustache protested as he puffed on his cigarette as he lied back on the couch, his dark glasses fell back on his face as he tilted his head back. "I agree with Jake. It shows how good we are even when we're shit faced." The man with long curly hair, a gorgeous ethnic nose, stood up – towering over the other 4 people in the sesh – and began to roll another blunt on one of the control panels. The one that started this debated piped in, "Thanks Dan for taking my side." He said sarcastically, his curly mullet was like a solid cloud on his head, and he has a moustache like Jake. "We'll our wonderful manager and producer here," A man that looked like Jesus pointed to a woman that sat next to Jake on the couch. "Was the one that wasn't shit faced, I think that's why it was actually good, Joshua." He finished. "Hey, hey, I'm not saying it's shit because of you, please believe me y/n!" Josh dramatically pleaded to y/n. She was looking up at the ceiling. Pupils dilated. Blunt in hand. "Just, make it shorter." She said confidently, waving her hand a bit. Still not looking at anyone and head craned back. "You have the answer to everything." Danny said his mouth slightly gaped that such a simple solution didn't register in any of their minds. Or he's just on a psychedelic trip and can't spark up a brain cell.

The following week the band had dates in LA since they were still doing there 'Dreams in Gold' Tour. The band was already at the venue setting up, some still sleeping in the bus. Y/n had some business to attend to in their studio in New York before going down to LA. She decided to walk down the infamous Sunset Strip, as a historic music place like this could not go untrekked when having the chance. Wearing a black turtleneck, dark blue flare jeans with dark brown boots and a satchel bag hanging from her shoulder, a small suitcase's handle in the other hand while the silver case dragged its wheels on the floor. As she caught the sight of the colourful sign of The Rainbow, a voice called to her. "Y/n?" A older man, short blondish hair, leather jacket, sunglasses.

Axl Rose.

And like the trigger of a gun being pulled,

A life was lost.

(or misplaced)

Y/n's POV:

Everything stood still,

I stood still.

Then it all went dark. It was a black lifeless void.

Falling backwards but being physically still.

Time was reversing.

A previous life. My life?

Memories rolling past like an old film.

My head spiralled.

I can't comprehend this. What is happening to me?

My first years of school, late 60's early 70's. That's not right. It was the early 2000's.

Falling in love with music, Queen, Elton John.

Highschool was trip. My parents being stricter than anyone else's, they didn't believe I could have a job as in the music industry.

Studying music in college then going on the Uni and taking a science course to get my folks off my back.

One of my most successful record deals was Mötley Crüe and Bon Jovi.

Before they even started writing lyrics for their songs, I knew it off by heart and helped them gain success with it and recording went like dream.

Now I was searching the East Coast for a new band to sign.

March 1985, The City of Angels.

A flash of light, and my eyes flickered open.

It a cold night, dark but the city light was somewhat comforting.

It was the Sunset Strip, but something was...

Off.

------------

OMG SORRY IF IT'S SHIT

THIS WAS LIKE THE INTRODUCTION, FIRST PART IS COMING OUT SOON

IM SO EXCITED

(Band at the beginning is greta van fleet )

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richincolor · 3 months

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January's New Releases

2024 has already started off right with a strong list of new releases of debuts, a few sequels and trilogies, and a whole slew of highly anticipated novels. Which book will you start your 2024 TBR list with? Click below to read all that has come out so far.

Week of January 2nd

Stay with My Heart by Tashie Bhuiyan Inkyard Press

From the author of Counting Down with You and A Show for Two comes a new YA contemporary about a girl who accidentally sabotages an up-and-coming local band and falls for the guitarist while secretly trying to make up for her mistake.

Liana Sarkar lives and breathes music, hoping to follow in the footsteps of her A&R coordinator father. Maybe if she succeeds, he’ll finally give her the time of day instead of drowning himself in work to distract from the grief of her mother’s passing.

When Liana accidentally sabotages an up-and-coming local band, Third Eye, she makes it her mission to steer them towards success—without them discovering her role in their setback. But as she gets closer to Third Eye, especially their enigmatic leader Skyler Moon, it becomes harder to hide the truth.

With both her heart and their futures on the line, will Liana be able to undo the damage she’s caused?

Just Happy to Be Here by Naomi Kanakia HarperTeen

In this YA standalone perfect for fans of Tobly McSmith and Meredith Russo, the first out trans girl at an all-girls school must choose between keeping her head down or blazing a trail.

Tara just wants to be treated like any other girl at Ainsley Academy.

That is, judged on her merits—not on her transness. But there’s no road map for being the first trans girl at an all-girls school. And when she tries to join the Sibyls, an old-fashioned Ainsley sisterhood complete with code names and special privileges, she’s thrust into the center of a larger argument about what girlhood means and whether the club should exist at all.

Being the figurehead of a movement isn’t something Tara’s interested in. She’d rather read old speeches and hang out with the Sibyls who are on her side—especially Felicity, a new friend she thinks could turn into something more. Then the club’s sponsor, a famous alumna, attacks her in the media and turns the selection process into a spectacle.

Tara’s always found comfort in the power of other peoples’ words. But when it comes time to fight for herself, will she be able to find her own voice?

Dark Star Burning, Ash Falls White (Song of the Last Kingdom #2) by Amélie Wen Zhao Delacorte

Years ago, the Elantian colonizers invaded Lan’s homeland and killed her mother in their search to uncover the Last Kingdom’s greatest the location of its legendary four Demon Gods. Lan’s mother devoted her life to destroying the Demon Gods, and Lan is determined to finish her mission. Yet, there are others searching for the gods, too.

Zen knew his soul was forfeit the moment he made a deal with the Demon God known as the Black Tortoise, but he’s willing to lose himself if it means saving the Kingdom–and the girl–he loves. But to crush the colonizers who have invaded his land he needs more power than even a single Demon God can provide. He needs an army. And he knows exactly where he can find it–in the undead army his great grandfather lead decades ago.

The Elantians may have stolen their throne, but the battle for the Last Kingdom has only begun.

Ghost Roast by Shawneé and Shawnelle Gibbs & illustrated by Emily Cannon Versify

For as long as she can remember, Chelsea Grant has tried everything she can think of to distance herself from the disastrous damage her father does to her social life. It’s not easy to shake her reputation as Ghost Girl when Dad keeps advertising his business as a “paranormal removal expert” in big, bold, loud letters all over New Orleans!

This year, Chelsea’s all grown up, attending one of the most prestigious high schools in the city, and she’s finally made friends with the popular crowd. Things are looking up—until a night on the town backfires spectacularly, landing her in hot water at home. Her punishment? Working for her dad at Paranormal Removal Services. All. Summer.

Worst of all, her new job reveals an unexpected secret she has to keep: While Dad hunts ghosts with his own DIY tech, Chelsea can actually see them. And when she meets Oliver, a friendly spirit, at the fancy mansion her dad is getting a handsome fee to exorcize, she realizes she has to save his after-life, even if it risks everything her father’s worked for.

Week of January 9th

Somewhere in the Deep by Tanvi Berwah Sourcebooks Fire

Seventeen-year-old Krescent Dune is buried under the weight of her dead parents’ debt and the ruinous legacy they left behind. The only way she can earn enough money to escape her unforgiving island is by battling monstrous creatures in an underground fighting pit. After a fight goes terribly wrong, she’s banned from the pits. Now hopeless, she is offered a deal: in exchange for the erasure of her debts, she must join and protect a hunting party for a rescue mission deep within the mining caves beneath the island.

Krescent is determined to keep her head down and fulfill her role as the dutiful bodyguard, even though she is trapped underground with her childhood enemy and a company of people who would gladly kill her if they knew who her parents were. As they come across creatures she believed only existed in legends, it becomes clear they are in far more danger than she could have imagined. But someone doesn’t want her to make it out alive. And she’ll have to figure out who before she’s left alone… in the dark.

From the author of Monsters Born and Made comes an action-packed South Asian inspired fantasy that will have your heart racing at every turn.

Arya Khanna’s Bollywood Moment by Arushi Avachat Wednesday Books

Shaadi preparations are in full swing, which means lehenga shopping, taste testing, dance rehearsals, and best of all, Arya’s sister Alina is home. The Khannas are together again, finally, and Arya wants to enjoy it. So she stifles her lingering resentment towards Alina, plays mediator during her sister’s fights with their mother, and welcomes her future brother-in-law with open arms. (Okay, maybe enjoy isn’t exactly right.)

Meanwhile at school, Arya’s senior year dreams are unraveling. In between class and her part-time gig as a bookshop assistant, Arya struggles to navigate the aftermath of a bad breakup between her two best friends and a tense student council partnership with her rival, the frustratingly attractive Dean Merriweather.

Arya is determined to keep the peace at home and at school, but this shaadi season teaches Arya new realities: Alina won’t always be in the bedroom down the hall, Mamma’s sadness isn’t mendable, friendships must evolve, and life doesn’t always work out like her beloved Bollywood movies. But sometimes, the person you least expect will give you a glimpse of your dream sequence just when you need it most.

Structured like a Bollywood film (entertaining intermission included!) Arya Khanna’s Bollywood Moment will make you swoon, laugh, cry, think, nod your head in agreement, and quite possibly make you get up and dance.

Lunar New Year Love Story by Gene Luen Yang and illustrated by LeUyen Pham First Second

Valentina Tran was named after Valentine’s Day, which used to be her favorite holiday. But when Val learns the truth behind what happened with her parents and why she’s being raised by a single father, she realizes true love is a lie. This is reinforced when she meets the spirit of Saint Valentine, who tells her she and her family are cursed to always be unlucky in love. Val is ready to give into her fate, until one Lunar New Year festival, where a mysterious lion dancer hands her a paper heart, and ZING. Val becomes determined to change her destiny, prove Saint Valentine wrong, and give her heart to the right person.

Meanwhile, lion dancing is the only thing that has given Jae peace after his dad passed away. It’s also what keeps him connected to his father’s side of the family. Both Jae and his cousin Leslie notice Val at the Lunar New Year festival, and for some inexplicable reason, Jae hands Val a paper heart. But it’s Leslie, with his K-Pop good looks, who starts to date Val. Jae still feels this connection with Val and feels it’s somehow tied to how he feels about losing his father.

Both Val and Jae struggle with the spirits who haunt them as they are inextricably brought together in a love story that is satisfying, sweet, and moving.

Week of January 16th

Escaping Mr. Rochester by L.L. McKinney HarperTeen

Jane has no interest in a husband. Eager to make her own way in the world, she accepts the governess position at Thornfield Hall. Though her new employer, Edward Rochester, has a charming air—not to mention a handsome face—Jane discovers that his smile can sharpen in an instant. Plagued by Edward’s mercurial mood and the strange wails that echo through the corridors, she grows suspicious of the secrets hidden within Thornfield Hall—unaware of the true horrors lurking above her very head.

On the topmost floor, Bertha is trapped in more ways than one. After her whirlwind marriage to Edward turned into a nightmare, he locked her away as revenge for withholding her inheritance. Now his patience grows thin in the face of Bertha’s resilience and Jane’s persistent questions, and both young women are in more danger than they realize. When their only chance at safety—and perhaps something more—is in each other’s arms, can they find and keep one another safe before Edward’s dark machinations close in around them?

Most Ardently by Gabe Cole Novoa Feiwel & Friends

London, 1812 . Oliver Bennet feels trapped—not just by the endless corsets, petticoats, and skirts he’s forced to wear on a daily basis, but also by society’s expectations. The world, and the vast majority of his family and friends, think Oliver is a girl named Elizabeth. He is therefore expected to mingle at balls wearing a pretty dress, entertain suitors regardless of his interest in them, and ultimately become someone’s wife.

But Oliver can’t bear the thought of such a fate. He finds solace in the few times he can sneak out of his family’s home and explore the city rightfully dressed as a young gentleman. It’s during one such excursion when Oliver becomes acquainted with Darcy, a sulky young man who had been rude to “Elizabeth” at a recent social function. But in the comfort of being out of the public eye, Oliver comes to find that Darcy is actually a sweet, intelligent boy with a warm heart, not to mention attractive.

As Oliver spends more time as his true self, often with Darcy, part of him dares to hope that his dream of love and life as a man can be possible. But suitors are growing bolder―and even threatening―and his mother is growing more desperate to see him settled into an engagement. Oliver will have to choose: settle for safety, security, and a life of pretending to be something he’s not, or risk it all for a slim chance at freedom, love, and a life that can be truly his own.

So Let Them Burn (Divine Traitors #1) by Kamilah Cole Little, Brown Young Readers

Whip-smart and immersive, this Jamaican-inspired fantasy follows a gods-blessed heroine who’s forced to choose between saving her sister or protecting her homeland.

Faron Vincent can channel the power of the gods. Five years ago, she used her divine magic to liberate her island from its enemies, the dragon-riding Langley Empire. But now, at seventeen, Faron is all powered up with no wars to fight. She’s a legend to her people and a nuisance to her neighbors.

When she’s forced to attend an international peace summit, Faron expects that she will perform tricks like a trained pet and then go home. She doesn’t expect her older sister, Elara, forming an unprecedented bond with an enemy dragon—or the gods claiming the only way to break that bond is to kill her sister.

As Faron’s desperation to find another solution takes her down a dark path, and Elara discovers the shocking secrets at the heart of the Langley Empire, both must make difficult choices that will shape each other’s lives, as well as the fate of their world.

A Drop of Venom by Sajni Patel Rick Riordan Presents

Sixteen-year-old Manisha is no stranger to monsters—she’s been running from them for years, from beasts who roam the jungle to the King’s army, who forced her people, the naga, to scatter to the ends of the earth. You might think that the kingdom’s famed holy temples atop the floating mountains, where Manisha is now a priestess, would be safe—but you would be wrong.

Seventeen-year-old Pratyush is a famed slayer of monsters, one of the King’s most prized warriors and a frequent visitor to the floating temples. For every monster the slayer kills, years are added to his life. You might think such a powerful warrior could do whatever he wants, but true power lies with the King. Tired after years of fighting, Pratyush wants nothing more than a peaceful, respectable life.

When Pratyush and Manisha meet, each sees in the other the possibility to chart a new path. Unfortunately, the kingdom’s powerful have other plans. A temple visitor sexually assaults Manisha and pushes her off the mountain into a pit of vipers. A month later, the King sends Pratyush off to kill one last monster (a powerful nagin who has been turning men to stone) before he’ll consider granting his freedom.

Except Manisha doesn’t die, despite the hundreds of snake bites covering her body and the venom running through her veins. She rises from the pit more powerful than ever before, with heightened senses, armor-like skin, and blood that can turn people to stone. And Pratyush doesn’t know it, but the “monster” he’s been sent to kill is none other than the girl he wants to marry.

Alternating between Manisha’s and Pratyush’s perspectives, Sajni Patel weaves together lush language, high stakes, and page-turning suspense, demanding an answer to the question “What does it truly mean to be a monster?”

Beasts of War (Beasts of Prey #3) by Ayana Gray Nancy Paulsen Books

Once a prisoner to Fedu, the vengeful god of death, Koffi has regained her freedom, but she is far from safe. Fedu will stop at nothing to hunt her down and use her power to decimate the mortal world. Koffi knows when Fedu will during the next Bonding, a once-in-a-lifetime celestial event. To survive, Koffi will have to find powerful new allies quickly, and convince them to help her in the terrible battle to come.

Once a warrior-turned-runaway, Ekon has carved out a new life for himself outside Lkossa, but the shadows of his past still haunt him. Now, alongside unexpected friends, Ekon tries to focus on getting Koffi to the Kusonga Plains before the next Bonding. If he fails, Koffi will be consumed, either by her own dangerous power, or the terrible fate Ekon is doing everything he can to prevent. Ekon devotes himself to protecting Koffi, but the lingering threats from his own past are more urgent than he knows.

As Koffi and Ekon race to the Kusonga Plains—and try to garner the help of Eshōza’s ancient gods along the way—they must face a slew of dangerous beasts old and new. In the end, destiny may unite Koffi and Ekon for the last time—or tear them apart for good.

Week of January 23rd

Into the Sunken City by Dinesh Thiru HarperTeen

In the slowly sinking city of Coconino, Arizona, the days are long, the money is tight, and the rain never stops.

For Jin Haldar, this life is nothing new—ever since her father died in a diving accident, she’s barely made ends meet for her and her younger sister, Thara.

Enter Bhili: a drifter who offers Jin and Thara the score of a lifetime—a massive stash of gold hidden in the sunken ruins of Las Vegas.

Jin knows it’s too dangerous. She stopped diving after her father’s accident. But when her sister decides to go, Jin’s left with only one choice: to go with her.

A ragtag crew is assembled—including Jin’s annoyingly hot ex-boyfriend. From there, a high-stakes heist ensues that’s beyond even Jin’s wildest fears. Crumbling ruins, sea beasts, corsairs, and a mysterious figure named João Silva all lie in wait. To survive, Jin will have to do what she promised herself she’d never do again: dive.

Out of Our League: 16 Stories of Girls in Sports edited by Dahlia Adler and Jennifer Iacopelli Feiwel and Friends

A compelling YA anthology from editors Dahlia Adler and Jennifer Iacopelli about the trials and triumphs of girls in sports.

Ambition. Drive. Determination. Talent. Courage. Teamwork.

Every athlete knows what it takes to win. But for teen female players, the stakes are so much higher. In this anthology, the voices of these athletes come alive, highlighting the ferocity of those who are often shunted to the side. From navigating rampant misogyny to forging a sisterhood through sweat or just reveling in the love of the game, the stories in Out of Our League address the phenomenal physical and emotional power of teenage athletes as they compete, persevere, and thrive, on and off the field.

The Colliding Worlds of Mina Lee by Ellen Oh Crown

When a Korean American teenage artist gets sucked into the world of her own web comic, she must find a way out with the help of a cute boy all while facing off against a villainous corporation. Inspired by the A-ha’s “Take on Me” music video, this entertaining YA novel is a grounded speculative fiction adventure from the co-founder of We Need Diverse Books.

Mina has become the hero of her own story. Literally.

When Mina Lee woke up on Saturday morning for SAT prep, she did NOT expect to:

1. Nearly be fried by a superhero who turned out to be a supervillain. 2. Come face to face with Jin, the handsome boy of her dreams. 3. Discover a conspiracy involving the evil corporation Merco that she created.

And it’s all happening in her fictional world. Mina is trapped in the story she created. Now it’s up to her to save everyone. Even if it means losing Jin forever.

Barracoon by Zora Neal Hurston, Adapted by Ibram X. Kendi, Illustrated by Jazzmen Lee-Johnson HarperCollins Childrens

In the first middle grade offering from Zora Neale Hurston and Ibram X. Kendi, young readers are introduced to the remarkable and true-life story of Cudjo Lewis, one of the last survivors of the Atlantic human trade, in an adaptation of the internationally bestselling and critically acclaimed Barracoon.

This is the life story of Cudjo Lewis, as told by himself.

Of the millions of men, women, and children transported from Africa to America to be enslaved, eighty-six-year-old Cudjo Lewis was then the only person alive to tell the story of his capture and bondage—fifty years after the Atlantic human trade was outlawed in the United States. Cudjo shared his firsthand account with legendary folklorist, anthropologist, and writer Zora Neale Hurston.

Adapted with care and delivered with age-appropriate historical context by award-winning historian Ibram X. Kendi, Cudjo’s incredible story is now available for young readers and emerging scholars. With powerful illustrations by Jazzmen Lee-Johnson, this poignant work is an invaluable contribution to our shared history and culture.

#new releases #weneeddiversebooks #young adult books

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