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frannyzooey · 1 day

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On The Green: 3

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Mature-ish? More space violence, gratuitous descriptions of Ezra’s body 🤡

A/N: thank you to both @the-scandalorian who always sets me in the right direction and gives me the best reassurance and @bageldaddy who, I’m pretty sure, is giving me more of an education than any English teacher I’ve ever had and thank god ❤️

Series Masterlist

—

For the next couple days, it rains.

Sheets of it pour down, a steady drum against the roof, trails of it sliding down the windows. It creates rivers in the rich soil, deep trenches that lead to even deeper puddles, and the world outside looks like a muted blur from your seat inside. A smear of dark green, a blot of rich brown, the watery shape of roots that distort with every drop.

Tucking your knees tighter under your chin, you give your legs a squeeze, hoping to squash the restlessness that thrums through them.

“Anything new out there?”

You sigh, knowing he’s teasing. “No.”

“Fitting, the way you can sit still for so long, Birdie. Perched there in your little nest.”

The only blanket you have pooled at your hip, your headphones on the floor, and your notebook open and face down next to them, you suppose it does look a bit like a nest. You shrug. “Not much else to do.”

Ezra fiddles with a ship part in his hand, his head bent in focus. “Always something to do.”

After days stuck inside, it doesn’t feel like it.

You’ve combed over every inch of the pod, putting it back to rights. Cleaning every surface, organizing every cupboard. The med supplies were pulled out and meticulously sorted, the food stores combined with Ezra’s meager offerings, the dash scrubbed free of every particle of dirt that’s collected on it over the years. Your fingers finding a few rusty drips of blood that were missed, you spent more time than necessary scouring every inch of the pilot’s seat until your fingers ached.

One untouched compartment remained: your father’s private belongings.

“Hand me that wrench, would you?”

Ezra extends his hand, and you crawl over to the open tool kit, rifling through it until you find the one he’s looking for. Handing it to him, you abandon your seat by the window and sit next to him. His fingers are thick and long, marred with the nicks of small scars, his fingernails short and black with permanent dirt—but his handling of the part is graceful, his touch deft when he uses the tool.

“Tell me everything he said again, from the top.”

Resting your cheek on your knee, you recite every detail you can recall, your voice monotone with boredom.

“He didn’t say much. A group of mercs hired him to help with the dig, but I don’t know where he met them. Called “The Queen’s Lair,” it’s supposed to be an untouched dig site that holds more gems than any other on this planet. A deposit the size of this pod. Depending on his source, the whole thing could be real or it could be nothing, but either way, he thought it would make us rich. He said it would be enough to retire on, that this would be our last run.”

Ezra huffs. “If the rumor is true, then he’d be right.” He passes the wrench back, looking at you. “If it’s true.” He waits a beat. “Do you think it is?”

You still had to get used to that – someone asking your opinion about something. You shrug. “It’s possible, right?”

“Sure, it’s possible,” he agrees. “Probable, though?”

You pause to think, and his expression softens into a smile. “A dreamer like myself, I see.”

“I don’t know about that,” you reply. “But as long as we’re stuck here, might as well look, right?”

He nods, thinking for a moment.

“The Queen’s Lair,” he muses, dragging the words out in a slow drawl. He looks up, wiggling his eyebrows, and a small smile pulls at your lips.

Mirroring it, he goes back to work.

It had taken you all of a couple days to tell him about the reason your father came here. Tossing in your lot with Ezra the second you agreed to his deal, the idea of a hidden cache of gems that had the potential to make you both rich was too valuable to keep to yourself. You had the location; he had the digging skills. You had, as minimal as they were, details about who was waiting, and he had the skills to navigate the situation.

You needed each other.

Cautious around him for the first couple of days, you were surprised by his geniality. For someone who appeared so ruthless when you first met him, he was…kinder than you thought he would be with you. You had remained hesitant, convinced that it was a ruse to get you to lower your defenses, but after a while, you came to see that he was just desperate for someone to talk to.

So were you, it seemed, for how easily the words slipped out once you let them.

After a lifetime of being left to wilt alone in empty apartments, or being dragged around the universe only to be ignored until your father needed something from you, it felt good to have someone’s attention. His curiosity about you was endless, his questions never ending, and when you answered, he really listened. Not like he was searching for anything to give him a leg up on you, but rather just openly interested. His face was expressive, his eyes fixed on yours whenever you were talking, and even when you tried to shy away from the direct attention you weren’t used to, he never faltered.

He was patient, a gift you’d never been given from anyone.

Unfortunately, along with that came a blossoming attraction to the man, but you pushed that down. The pod was a tight space with two people, and he was broad. You couldn’t help but notice his presence. Especially at night, when it was just the two of you.

When a blanket of tension seemed to build across the small space between your cots.

When it was just you and him and the darkness; the steady sound of his breathing over the thrum of your restless limbs.

Squashing down the nagging shame that surfaced every time you remembered that he was a stranger and also a murderer, you ignored that logic and leaned into the warmth of his companionship instead.

Besides, even if he was planning on taking advantage, what could you really do about it anyway?

“You mentioned a map?” he says, his brow furrowing in concentration.

You tilt your head towards his cupboard. “I haven’t checked, but it should be in there. I remember him looking at it.”

Knowing you’ve been avoiding that particular cupboard, he nods.

“How many mercs are waiting for him at the dig?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“What terms did he negotiate?”

“He didn’t say.”

Ezra shakes his head to himself, looking up. “The more you tell me about this old man of yours, the less I’m impressed with how he treated his partner.”

“I was never his partner,” you correct. “Just his daughter.”

He gives you a level glance, and you look away. Fiddling with the leg of your thermals, you change the subject. “Do you think it’s safe to leave the pod unattended?”

“I’m not assured that she’s fit to fly in the state she’s in, but just to be sure, we’ll take this with us wherever we go.”

He holds up the part in his hand with a smirk, and you give it a closer look, huffing a laugh when you recognize it.

The starter.

He stands with a soft grunt, stretching. The muscles in his shoulders shift underneath his threadbare thermals, and you keep your eyes on them when he tucks the part away in his case.

“I’ll need a digging partner out there, if this opportunity is what you say it is,” he says. “I think we should practice some, to get you ready. Is that amenable to you?”

You bite the pillow of your lip. “He never taught me that. How to dig,” you clarify.

“Course he didn’t,” Ezra frowns, his voice sliding low with unamused disappointment. He shakes his head clear of whatever dark thought seems to pass through his mind, his expression softening. “All the more reason.” He bends, peering out the window. “Looks like it’s tapering off. The sooner we get some practice under your belt, the better.”

A swoop of relief flowing through you at the thought of leaving the pod, it mixes with excitement at the prospect of learning something new. Your father never trusted you with the actual digging – you had been brought along to carry things, made to follow for “assistance”, but he never let you touch the blade. You’d once thought it was a father’s way to protect his child from the dangerous job but quickly realized it was born out of impatience.

Unfurling your tight limbs when he holds his hand out to help you off the floor, you grab your suits from the closet. Slipping them on in silence, you click your helmet into place while he secures the connection of your filters, and hunching to get through the door, you follow him outside.

The ground is saturated with water, your boots leaving clear impressions in the soil as he leads you into the forest. He’s broad, even more so with his suit on, but the trees that surround you are still big enough to conceal his entire body, not to mention yours. The canopy of lush growth glistens with droplets, shafts of misty light piercing through it to highlight the floor of moss and growth underneath you. Vines and tree roots spread and crawl underneath your feet, no visible path that you can see.

You follow the beacon of his worn yellow suit, his voice carrying through the comm into your helmet.

“So, Birdie,” his voice sounds deeper through the link, scratchy with static. “If your father never taught you how to dig, what did he teach you?”

You huff under your breath. “A lot of things.”

Missing the low tone of your sarcasm through the radio, he continues in his conversational tone. “Anything useful?”

“I know how to navigate.” You think of using your father’s last coordinates to find him in the seedier part of town. “I’m resourceful.” Rationing your vouchers, making sure they bought you enough food to last. “I’m actually not a bad mechanic.”

“Oh yea?” He turns to look to peek back at you for a moment.

You immediately backtrack when you see a glimmer of hope on his face. “I mean, nothing like we need. I can try to help though, if you show me how. My father used to bring me with him everywhere but always left me behind, so I got pretty good at fixing things around the ship. He always wanted me to do the wiring because my hands were smaller than his. He said my fingers were more precise.”

You remember the rest of it silently: the way his hands trembled and shook between doses.

Ezra hums in acknowledgement. “And yet he never taught you how to dig?”

The moss softens your footsteps, flakes of dust floating through the thick air.

“No,” you reply. “He tried, but…I don’t know. He was too impatient, I think.”

Memories of his harsh words come back: the biting clip of his reprimands, the disappointed yet dismissive tone he always had when it came to you.

Ezra’s voice pulls you back. “Seems like a waste to me. If I had access to those fingers of yours, I would have made use of them.”

Your steps falter as his unearned praise catches you off guard, at his automatic assumption that skills he doesn’t even know if you have were wasted. Warmth unfurls in your chest, the edge of your mouth unconsciously lifting. Feeling slightly foolish and young at your reaction, you look down at your feet.

You’re still thinking about it when he pushes through dense bush, halting you with his arm.

Peering over his shoulder, you see a dark, gaping pit of disturbed earth obstructing your path. He creeps closer, toeing around the edge of it, and you follow, taking in the size and depth. Shallow but with steep sides, roots bulge out from below the soil, extending into the sky with gnarled fingers. Looking closer, you note pockets of earth gaping open just underneath each one. The whole site is eerie, appearing abandoned – though Ezra seems to know what he’s looking for.

Standing on the edge of the pit with a narrowed gaze, he crouches, studying the crater.

You watch with curiosity as he eases down the slope, into the dig site. Sitting on your butt, you carefully slide down the embankment to join him.

You’re not experienced enough to know for sure, but everything about this looks barren to you.

“Is there anything left in here?”

He flashes a smile your way. “If you know where to look.”

He paces the length of the pit, studying it. “Many sites were depleted during the Rush, but carelessness left some treasures behind.”

He squats next to a thick, gnarled root, his helmet tilting in study.

“Come here, Birdie.” His voice slipping into something softer and quieter, he motions you closer. “Here. You see it?”

His gloved fingers splay over the earth, dusting along tiny pin-prick holes that pierce the rich dirt, and he brushes away the crumbling top layer to reveal a deeper set. As if whatever is buried underneath needs access to the toxic air.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he coos.

Blinking, it takes you a second to understand he’s talking to the hole he’s gently unearthing. He hums to himself, one of satisfaction when the earth tumbles away and an involuntary shiver of pleasure at the sound surprises you by rolling down your spine. Shifting your crouch, you push it down.

“Hand me my kit?”

You reach for it, watching as he preps his tools.

“I’ll go first, and then teach you how to do it. Watch my fingers.”

Bracing his hand on the side of the site, he uses the strength in his other one to scoop into the pocket of soil until it completely opens. His arm disappears as he reaches into the dark pit, and trepidation spreads through you. He searches for something, his eyes lighting up when he finds it.

"I knew somebody oughta give her a go,” he says with a smile.

His hand wrapped around the root like a rope, he tugs with a soft grunt of exertion, and a thick, milky white root pearl spills from the hole. He keeps pulling, coaxing everything out and a bulbous pod covered in mucus emerges, sliding out onto the ground by his feet. Shifting onto his knees, he picks up his knife.

“You want to be careful when you cut,” he starts to explain, motioning you to scoot closer. “Easy does it, with delicate things like these. One wrong move and the whole thing will go to shit.”

You hold your breath as he makes a careful incision, his knife slowly drawing across the top of the pod. Your eyes widen in half revulsion and half curiosity as it splits open, strands of thick mucus connecting each side.

“I saw my dad do it once,” you say lowly, mesmerized by his deft movements. “Mess it up.”

The dark crown of his shorn curls shakes under the dome of his visor. “It’s a shame to waste it. All the effort it takes to get her to give it up, only to be ruined with a misplaced touch.”

A hissing sound slips through the thick air, and his fingers form a vee to hold the slick seam open.

“That's the price for a dry breach,” he explains. “My chem will calm the brine.”

You have the bottle of pre-mixed chemicals ready in your hand, and he gives you a nod in thanks, taking it from you. Pouring it slowly into the crack, the pod disintegrates into a steamy cloud, a slimy puddle forming underneath. A core remains, and setting the bottle down, he holds up the unpolished gem.

“Small, but still worth it.”

“You made that look so easy.” Clear experience in every movement he made, you’re still looking at the gem when he speaks.

“Your turn.”

You look up at the words, unsure, and his gaze is steady and encouraging. “I’ll be right here. If you slip, it’s just a trial run.”

You frown in hesitation, and he chuckles. “Don’t look so serious, Birdie. The stakes are about as low as they can get. Come on.”

He jerks his chin towards something behind you, and crawling over to it, you follow.

“Just there,” he says. “You can see her. Look.”

You follow his finger, and reaching your glove out, start to brush the crumbling soil away from the side of the pit. He guides you through every step with a patience you’ve not encountered before, every instruction murmured in a cadence so soothing that would be distracting if not for the intensity of your concentration on the task.

Watch it, girl. Straight finger.

You got it?

Hold it nice and tight.

Oh. That’s perfect.

The sense of accomplishment you feel when you hold up the gem is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. All of your other skills discovered through the lens of isolation, forged by way of necessity without the luxury of help, this one feels different. A safety net beneath you every step of the way, you know if you were to mess up, he would have saved you – but you didn’t.

The faith he placed in you when he handed you the knife suddenly feels so much more earned, and you beam up at him with pride.

“Not nearly as daunting as you thought now, was it?” He smiles back at you, holding his hand out for the gem. “Your father was right, by the way. Your fingers are nimble. The most precise and steady I’ve ever seen.”

You know he must be humoring you but the flush of validation flourishes in your chest as he tucks the stone carefully into the soft foam padding of his case.

“I would have us stay out longer, but we didn’t charge the filters as much as we should have. Let’s head back and admire our loot in a more hospitable environment.”

Clicking it shut, he climbs the slope of the pit before turning to help you out.

“Your first gem,” he muses, leading you back into the forest. “How does it feel?”

“Good,” you breathe, a small smile still on your face and you follow him, his constant stream of words fading into the background.

Entirely dependent on the whims of your father, you’d been existing inside of an isolated bubble until now. You hadn’t been lying when you told Ezra you had no idea what you wanted to do, because the freedom to choose your own path was something that had never occurred to you. You’d been self-reliant, but always within the shadow of a burden. Your dad forced you into a caretaker role, and for the first time in years, as Ezra’s voice flows into your helmet from his, you feel the possibility of something else breaking through the fog.

A glimmering edge of potential, the hue of an amber colored gem.

The shift inside you sparks to life, a realization dawning on you: a life you never thought possible. For the first time since you landed on this planet, you see opportunity stretching out in front of you instead of a dead end. Pride kindles in your chest as you walk back to the pod, and you think about sharing it with Ezra, but stating your excitement over something as routine for the competent man in front of you seems foolish. Like something you should keep to yourself, in order to protect it against the power you know other’s words hold.

You make it to the edge of the clearing before it spills forth from your lips.

“I can’t wait –” you start, your words interrupted by Ezra’s arm whipping out for the second time that day to stop you in your tracks.

“Hello, stranger.”

Your head snaps up, both at the greeting itself and the tone his voice has slipped into: something colder than the easy geniality he’s been using with you all morning, an edge to it that you can sense without seeing his face.

“Can I help you?” Ezra’s hand rests on the thrower attached to his hip, and from your place behind him, you slowly reach for your own weapon strapped across your back. Peering over Ezra’s shoulder, you spot the edge of a man.

Sneering through the visor of his dirty helmet, he looks starved, almost feral underneath the dome, his eyes dead with hunger. Dangerous is the first word that comes to mind, and when the man’s gaze settles on you, you shrink back behind Ezra.

“Pretty ship,” his voice crackles through the comm link. “Pretty girl.”

Your stomach bottoms out, but Ezra remains still.

“Both of whom belong to me,” he replies, steady and sure.

Your fingers bury themselves into Ezra’s suit at his side, and you feel him straighten, standing taller in front of you.

“Seems like a lot for one man.” The man’s chin tilts up in a challenge, stepping closer. “Maybe I can take one of em’ off your hands.”

“As generous as that offer is, I will have to decline.” You can hear the casual smile on Ezra’s face, meant to disarm. “I’m partial to both, you see. I wouldn’t be able to choose.”

The stranger takes a step closer, testing. When Ezra doesn’t move, he takes another.

“Actually,” the stranger confesses, “I’ve got a ship. It could use some parts, and I intended to take them from you…but I’d be willing to walk away.” He pauses a beat, tilting his head to look directly at you. “For her.”

He smiles, and the sight of his rotted teeth causes bile to rise in your throat.

“That is a bold offer,” Ezra drawls. “Unfortunately,” his voice dropping into a firmer tone, “She stays with me.”

The man’s greasy smile disappears, replaced with a menacing frown.

“I’m not gonna ask again,” he growls.

Ezra stands firm, shifting to cover you with the whole of his body and a tight tension fills the air, crackling amongst the slow floating dust.

“Then I guess I’ll have to take her by force,” the man says, taking another step forward.

Without any warning, Ezra whips the pistol from the holster attached to his hip and fires. You shrink at the first shot, scrambling to hide by the pod at the sound of a second one, and by the third, your ass hits the ground with a thud. A cold sweat soaks through your thermals, your pulse pounding as you watch Ezra saunter closer to the dead man with a relaxed gait and aiming his gun right between the man’s vacant eyes, you flinch when he pulls the trigger again.

A crash echoes through the field, followed by silence.

–

“It’s really a thing of beauty, isn’t it?”

Still reeling from the confrontation outside, you blink numbly at the refresher.

“Um,” you swallow, taking a seat. “Sure.”

He seems so unbothered it’s disorienting, and you tug your boot off, placing it on the floor next to the other one. Needing him to go somewhere else so you can process what just happened alone, you attempt casualness. “You just gonna stare at it, or are you gonna shower?”

“You just gonna watch me, or are you gonna turn around?” he mimics.

You pause, and he grins.

“Either way suits me just fine, little bird. Just fine.”

He crouches to dig through a bin of his belongings, and you turn your back to him, your body slipping into the rote memory as you take off your suit. The difference between who he’s been the last several days with you versus who he just turned into is jarring, a slap in the face, a stark reminder of what he’s capable of.

“You want to bathe first, or do you mind if I have the honor?” he asks from behind you.

“Go for it,” you reply.

You hear him pause behind you and turn to face him. A frown pulls between his dark brows as he studies you. “Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting for you to get your own relief. In fact, I’d prefer it.”

You shake your head, just wanting him to give you space. “I’m good. I’ll wait.”

He nods and before you can turn back around, reaches over his head to strip his shirt off with a tug. Marks of rough won survival litter the skin of his back. A gouge here, the thin stripe of a scar there; some cleanly healed, some not. He leans forward into the fresher, turning the water on to let it run for a moment and you eye the dark curls that edge the nape of his neck. The wings of muscle that make up his broad shoulders seem so much wider with his suit off, so much wider against the small opening he stands in front of, and your eyes follow the strong plane of his back down all the way down to the dimples on either side of his spine, just above the waistband of the pants he’s already working open –

Turning, his face registers surprise when he sees you’re still looking – yet he makes no effort to cover himself. Instead, he stands taller, confident in his bareness. His chest is covered in the same marks as his back, visible strength held in his arms, and dark hair collects in a swirl around his belly button and leads down, his hand obstructing where his pants hang open.

“I’m – sorry,” you hastily apologize, heat rushing to your face. Averting your eyes, you get a glimpse of his amused smile before you turn your back on him again.

You expect him to tease you, but he doesn’t. Instead, the door to the fresher clicks shut and you let a breath out you didn’t know you were holding.

Finally alone, you close your eyes.

He killed…again. Right in front of you, shamelessly, so confident in his own skills that you never sensed even a fraction of fear. Going back to the moment you both saw the man, you focus on the memory of his calmness, on the image of confidence he presented delivering that final shot. Almost lazy with it, like he was so desensitized by killing it didn’t even register with him.

Searching deeper, where you should find fear, you find reassurance instead.

He’s the one that took out the initial threat of his original partner, he’s the one who buried your father like it was nothing, he’s the one who has taught you about this place. Treating you like an equal except for when he needs to take out a threat, the way he slides into territorial protection should make you worry…but instead, it makes you feel safe.

You don’t belong to him, but you don’t find yourself rebelling against the idea as much as you probably should. The stranger meant to take you, and when Ezra told that man you belonged to him, you should have shrunk away, probably should have mentally protested. Instead, you silently clutched him tighter.

You hear him behind the door, water splashing against the tiles as he moves around and that swirl of hair above his waistband flashes behind your eyelids, along with an image of his thick fingers. The width of his chest, the rounds of his shoulders. The muscles along his ribs.

You jam the heels of your hands into your eyes, willing it to stop.

He’s a murderer. He’s a thief. He’s a dangerous man who has taken advantage of a situation in order to save himself.

And yet, you breathe out, listening to the shower – he’s saved you every time too.

–

You stay quiet the rest of the night, sitting with your thoughts.

He notices, those dark eyes resting on you every now and then over the map. He’d waited until you were in the shower to go through your father’s belongings, a courtesy you silently thanked him for.

Picking at your dinner, you finally ask him one of the questions weighing on your mind. “Am I really that much of a commodity around here?” you ask. “Is a girl that…rare?”

He stops eating, his expression turning solemn. He holds your gaze for a moment, answering honestly. “You have no idea, Birdie.”

There is a weight to the answer that gives you pause, and a clear implication that confirms the worry that you’re really not safe here – not just for the reasons you thought.

You go back to eating – or rather, picking at your food – and you feel him watching you.

“It is not my intention to scare you,” he starts, “but it is important that you stay close to me. If anyone asks, you’re mine. You understand?”

You nod, the words sparking to life an empty ache inside you, and you swallow hard.

“Not because I own you,” he continues, “but because they need to think I do.”

“Wouldn’t being your partner be enough?”

He shakes his head slowly. “I wish it was, but they…” He pauses, being careful with his words. “It’s been a long time since these men have seen a girl. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one. Your father was foolish to bring you here.” His hand splays on his chest, his thumb catching the worn collar of his thermal. “I would never hurt you, Birdie. But them? They’d do it in a heartbeat.”

You go quiet again, and he puts his fork down, leaning in.

“Again – I don’t say this to scare you, but –”

“That man today,” you interrupt. “How can you kill like that?”

He misunderstands your question, his body language shifting into defensiveness.

“It was all in the name of self-preservation, Birdie. It was nothing personal. Out here –”

“Can you teach me how?”

Your question takes him aback, his eyebrows popping up with surprise.

You let the question hang in the air between you, fully expecting him to say no. He shouldn’t help you learn to protect yourself, you know it would be in his best interest not to. Despite that, you hold eye contact with him, pleading inwardly for him to say yes.

You know he’d protect you, but you want more freedom than that. You want more, just like he taught you earlier.

Taking in your measure for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifts just a fraction, his dark eyes glinting with warmth – and pride.

“Of course.”

#ezra prospect #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect/you #ezra prospect/reader

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wordborne · 3 months

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someone called me teacher at the workshop for subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing i gave today :3

#someone also called me muchacha lmao #but wait let me tell you the tea #im looking at the questionnaire responses and these dudes don't know how to read 😭😭😭😭😭#and they almost graduate!!!!#how can you not follow instructions 😭😭😭😭#i had to explain things like 5 times after the presentation and i was going slow #i even asked them to please lmk if i was going too fast #also 99% of the responses towards the content were positive #except for someone who was like: i guess it was ok she didn’t explain thing that i clearly explained at the beginning 😭😭😭😭😭#like bro you could've asked me too😭😭😭#i was doing rounds asking if everything was alright and answering questions about the subs and the sub protocols even to those who were lat #😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#you can tell they didn’t have grace as their teacher #she would've beat our asses over stuff like this

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puppy-steve · 6 months

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Robin has spent plenty of time watching Steve Harrington from the shadows. The way he continuously stayed on the sidelines of the rest of his friends’ bullying was interesting. He never said too much of anything when it happened, didn’t look all that interested in it, either. Just leaned against a locker and looked bored out of his mind.

Until a week before Thanksgiving break a couple years ago, when Tommy Hagan started bragging to anyone who’d listen about how Steve got his shit rocked by Jonathan Byers and promptly dumped him and Carol to the curb after. Sure, Tommy made sure to mention that Steve was the one to push until Jonathan finally snapped and punched him, but he didn’t say how Steve had gone limp after. Letting Byers rearrange his face until a teacher ran over to break them up.

She remembers how lost he’d looked in the aftermath. Like he was a shell of himself.

So yeah. Steve Harrington isn’t the same person he was in high school. Or at least he’s trying not to be, that much Robin has noticed since he started working at Scoops at the beginning of the summer. But she didn’t think he’d changed so much to be openly flirting with the Freak of Hawkins.

Well. Not exactly flirting, but there’s something there Robin can’t quite put her finger on.

Steve’s manning the counter, right where she’d left him twenty minutes ago, but instead of looking like the picture of boredom slinging ice cream to annoying kids, he’s leaned his elbows on the counter where Eddie Munson is doing the same on the other side. They’re too quiet for Robin to hear what they’re talking about but Steve’s fingers are hooked on Eddie’s watch, not pulling or tugging. Just resting.

Eddie’s hands are clasped in front of him but his pointer finger keeps reaching out to lightly stroke Steve’s arm, and that’s when it hits Robin like a slap in the face.

They’re domestic.

The lobby is empty, save for Eddie’s friends that now occupy one of the booths, loudly arguing over something but Robin could care less because at that moment, Steve says something that has Eddie letting out a cackle laugh, his nose scrunched up and his shoulders shaking as he laughs. Her eyes slide over to Steve and he’s.

Huh.

Gone is the usual smug smirk that graces his face when a girl laughs at one of his (awful) jokes, and is replaced by something… fond. His face is relaxed into a small smile and his round Bambi eyes are shining with mirth. Like he’d expected this reaction. Sometime during this, their fingers have tangled together in a subtle hand-hold across the counter and holy shit.

Steve Harrington is dating Eddie Munson.

One of Eddie’s friends (Jeff, she thinks. They had pre-calc together.) says something and Steve only rolls his eyes as he replies. Eddie’s grinning at them over his shoulder. Neither of their postures have changed. Robin feels like the room’s spinning.

She knows about Eddie. Eddie knows about her. It’s never been verbally said, but birds of a feather and all that. It doesn’t have to be. She must accidentally bump into something in her attempt to rebalance the world because Steve’s head is snapping toward her and panic flashes in his eyes as he tries to rip his hands away from Eddie’s.

Eddie only holds them tighter as he locks eyes with her.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he tells Steve in a hushed tone. In front of him, Steve’s visibly shaking like a leaf, mouth opening and closing but not making a sound. Robin’s heart breaks a little. He looks downright terrified. Eddie’s eyes haven’t left her. “She’s safe. Aren’t you, Birdie?”

The question is directed at her. She swallows and nods quickly. “Y-yeah!” She winces at the volume of it. Clearing her throat, she tries again, taking a step forward like she’s approaching a frightened animal. “You can trust me, Steve.” Uses his first name instead of the ‘dingus’ that’s grown affectionate. “I'm—” She glances over at the booth that’s gone quiet. She doesn’t want to out herself to the entire freak population of Hawkins High.

“I’m a friend,” she settles on.

It takes Steve a moment for it to sink in, and when it does, his eyes somehow grow bigger in understanding. “Oh,” he breathes out, like a sigh of relief. Eddie’s rubbing his thumb over Steve’s knuckles.

“Yeah, dingus.” Robin’s close enough now to nudge his shoulder with hers. “Oh. Why don’t you go on break? I’ve got this.”

Steve gives her a grateful look and tugs Eddie to the booth to join Eddie’s —their— friends.

“It’s about damn time you guys remembered the rest of us,” the curly haired one complains as they both slide in on the same side. Eddie throws a straw wrapper at him and Robin stops paying attention after that.

permanent taglist: @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy @scarcrossdlvrs @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd @sidekick-hero

🥐☕💕 buy me a coffee?

#cj talks #steddie #gseb #steddie ficlet #cj writes #steddie fic

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mikavlcs · 1 year

Text

Heaven Sent

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!winged!reader

Summary: While sharing a bed, Wednesday finds a new use for your wings.

Warnings: soft/ooc!wednesday(!!!), it’s cute tho i promise

Word count: 1.1k

Notes: this is an adorable request from an anon, hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Wednesday was not having a particularly good night.

She had spent the entire evening venturing around campus for a new mystery to solve. Hours upon hours were spent searching for something, anything to entertain her and satiate her hunger for a fresh case to sink her teeth into.

But she had failed. Miserably. By the end of her hunt, she felt like she was suffocating in the air of utter boredom that settled comfortably around Nevermore after the Hyde had been detained and Crackstone defeated.

The only saving grace for her dreadful night was the fact that you had invited her to sleep in your dorm. It was something you began doing more often and she could never bring herself to say no.

Not because she enjoyed it, but because she didn’t want to have to deal with your pouting if she refused.

That was how she ended up outside your door at nearly midnight.

She quickly looked around. With no roaming teachers in sight, she took the chance to speak.

“Thing?”

Her disembodied companion came crawling out of her bag and up to her shoulder. She glanced back at him.

“I will be sleeping here tonight. You go back to my dorm. You know how to bypass the lock, just try not to give Enid a heart attack this time.”

She turned back to face your door, but Thing didn’t move. Confused, she faced him again. “What?”

The hand responded with a series of taps that made Wednesday glare at him.

“You can see her tomorrow. She invited me here, not you.”

Thing didn’t budge, looking as indignant as a sentient limb possibly could. Wednesday clenched her jaw.

“If you go back, I will let you sleep on my bed,” she gritted out. Thing perked up at the proposal. “But I will rescind the offer entirely if you do not move.”

That seemed to be enough to get him going. Thing gave her a soft tap, a gentle “good night” that she couldn’t help but return as he made his way off her arm and onto the floor. He quickly scampered off toward her dorm, clearly excited to have the entire bed to himself. Wednesday rolled her eyes and reached for your door, sighing when it opened with a quick twist.

You liked leaving the door unlocked for her, even though she told you that there was no need. After all, she could pick locks as simple as these in her sleep. But you insisted. She found it equally as endearing as she did utterly stupid, though she’d never admit it.

Stepping inside, she saw your sprawled form on your bed and paused, silently shutting the door behind her.

You were laid on your stomach in the middle of your bed, one arm hugging your pillow while the other rested under you. Your wings rested peacefully beside you, unevenly splayed across the blankets. Her eyes caught on the way they twitched every now and then, likely in response to whatever you were dreaming about.

She granted herself a moment to simply observe you in your rest.

During the day, you kept your wings in your harness. You said it was because they were too big and you didn’t want to unknowingly whack someone with them in the halls, but she knew there were underlying reasons as well.

Though they were easily the most magnificent things she had ever laid her eyes on, you were insecure about your wings. You had yet to tell her why and she resolved not to push you, but that made moments like this—when you allowed yourself to be fully exposed, truly yourself—all the more special to her.

It showed how much you trusted her. And she would be remiss to say that it wasn’t just the slightest bit touching.

Hesitantly, she tore her eyes away from you and focused on what she came here for. She took her boots off and set them on the floor beside yours, dropping her bag there as well, then silently made her way to your dresser, where you kept her spare set of pajamas.

After she changed, she walked over to your bed. Your wings fluttered lightly at her quiet approach, but you showed no signs of waking.

She stared down at you briefly before lightly shaking you.

No response.

She tried again, harder this time. You only hugged your pillow tighter.

An idea came to mind. One that you wouldn’t like, but she certainly would.

With a spark of joy in her chest, she leaned down and shoved you off the bed. You crashed to the floor with a loud thud and a pained groan much to her amused satisfaction.

Your head shot up to look at her, affronted. Your wings flared up behind you in a way that was more cute than it was menacing.

“Wednesday! What was that for?!”

“You wouldn’t move,” she shrugged.

“You could’ve just woken me up like a normal person,” you grumbled as you stood and dusted yourself off.

“Well, you don’t wake up like a normal person. So I did what I knew would work.”

The smirk she had been trying to hide was on full display now. She sat down on her side of the bed and gave you an expectant look. You maintained your half-hearted glare for a minute then gave up.

Your eyes and wings drooped simultaneously under the weight of your exhaustion and Wednesday couldn’t help but be disgusted by how effortlessly adorable you could be.

Oblivious to the effect you had on Wednesday, you flopped down onto the left side of the bed, which you had deemed yours the first time you shared it with her.

The smaller girl watched as you curled tightly into yourself, ensuring Wednesday her personal space through the night. Her cold heart thawed some at how seriously you took her comfort.

(A small, weak part of herself wished you would disregard it just once and hold her, even if it was just her hand. A negative side effect of being around Pugsley for so much of her life, she estimated.)

“Good night, Wends,” your words slurred slightly, already falling back into your slumber. Wednesday huffed in amusement as she turned your lamp off. She settled down and got comfortable, arms crossing over her chest.

Not daring to say anything to you directly, she only replied long after you slipped back into your dreams, voice so quiet it could hardly be considered a whisper.

“Good night, cara mia.”

Just as she began to succumb to the cold embrace of sleep, she felt something large and…oddly feathery rest itself on top of her.

Curious, she opened her eyes, and there on her chest lay one of your wings. It covered the upper half of her completely, acting almost as a blanket.

Her eyes flitted to your sleeping form, scrutinizing you. You were definitely asleep, so you must have covered her subconsciously.

Momentarily, she considered pushing it off, but she dismissed the thought as soon as it came.

Even though she wasn’t a big fan of physical affection, the soft heat and light pressure of your wing on top of her was…not entirely unpleasant. So she decided that she would indulge you, even if you were unconscious. Just this once.

She adjusted her position slightly, huffing at the way your wing twitched in response, and close her eyes once more.

Encompassed in your warmth, Wednesday drifted off into a blissfully dreamless sleep with the smallest of smiles on her face.

#definitely didn't forget i was posting this #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega

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babydollmarauders · 9 months

Text

MEDDLE ABOUT — NICO HISCHIER

nico hischier x fem!reader

summary: in which Nico hooks up with the girl he can’t stop thinking about… his teammates best friend.

warnings: NSFW!!, oral (f receiving), p in v, captain kink, praise, not proofread.

notes: LOOSELY inspired by Meddle About by Chase Atlantic. i mean extremely loosely. like, you’d only know it’s inspired by it if you know the lyrics to the song pretty well. (7k words)

when i agreed to visit John for a couple days, i knew it meant meeting his teammates.

that was the deal; i fly to Jersey, John picks me up, and we go to a bar with a few of his teammates.

the guys were sweet. lovably stupid, but they were hockey players so i wasn’t expecting much different.

i had met Jack first, who was already waiting for us at the bar. he was nice, telling me stories of everything i’ve missed while John is away from me, and he was funny in a blunt way. but most importantly, i could tell he cared for my best friend, so i took to him well.

then was Dawson, who showed up merely a couple minutes after the agreed upon meeting time, yet still profusely apologized for being ‘late’. his smile was contagious, his demeanor reminding me of a golden retriever, and he had greeted me with a hug; treating me as if i was just one of the guys.

and then there was Nico.

the quoted ‘most responsible’ of the group had burst into the bar nearly forty-five minutes late, citing his reasoning as having decided to take a nap but his alarm never went off because his phone decided to restart. his eyes were still noticeably a bit bleary with sleep, and his voice was deep and scratchy, still warming up from lack of use during his nap. his accent was thick, and at first, i honestly couldn’t be sure what he was saying, but the boys had obviously been around him enough to get used to the accent, nodding along to his words and reassuring him that it was all good.

then he turned to me, and i could’ve sworn i could melt right then and there. big brown eyes that captivated me, staring straight into mine. well-groomed stubble graced his jaw, and my personal weakness; thick, pronounced eyebrows to top it all off.

i had seen him on my tv screen, any time i watched one of John’s games, but he was so much more attractive in person.

“Cap, this is my best friend since high school, y/n.” John grins, slinging an arm around my shoulder. Nico’s eyes flicker over to John before settling back on me, a smile spreading on his lips. “y/n, this is our captain.”

“well, hi captain.” i tease, outstretching my hand. a red flush paints across his face and he takes my hand in his.

“you can just call me Nico.” he chuckles, shaking my hand. “sorry again that i’m late.”

“no worries, Nico. these three have been very good company.” i assure him.

“i’m gonna go grab a beer.” he announces. my eyes dart to my now empty beer bottle and i stand from my seat.

“i’ll join you.” i tell him. “i need another.”

i follow behind him at a safe distance, navigating my way through the slightly crowded bar, but when Nico glances back and sees me struggling to push through a group of drunken men, his hand finds mine, pulling me with him.

“oh-” i let out a squeak of surprise at his gentle grip, and he squeezes my hand lightly. “thank you.”

we reach the bar and our hands drop, mine now gripping the edge of the wooden counter.

“no problem.” he shrugs, facing me as we wait for our turn with the bartender. “so, you’ve known John since high school?”

“i was a ninth grader in tenth grade algebra.” i nod. “he tore into the teacher for making me cry after i got dress coded on the second day for my shirt being too low cut.

“John insisted that it was misogynistic. he came to school the next day wearing a t-shirt that he had cut down into a low cut v-neck and then proceeded to rant about how much of a double standard it was that the teacher didn’t dress code him for it but dress coded me.”

Nico grins softly as i look over the crowd at John, a faint smile playing on my lips.

“sounds like him.” he chuckles. “always looking out for people.”

“he has a big heart.” i nod, turning back towards him. “he says i’m part of his ‘personal team’. i’m not sure what exactly that means, but i know it means he looks out for me. i’m really grateful for him.”

“sorry we kinda stole him from you.” Nico cringes but i laugh, shaking my head.

“nah. he was bound to go somewhere, i’m just glad it was here.” i look back at John, watching him laugh at something Jack said. “he’s happy here.”

“so are you guys…” Nico trails off, and my head whips around, eyes wide and my lips parted. i know exactly what he’s insinuating, it’s the same thing everyone thinks when they meet John and i together.

“no.” i shake my head abruptly. “never. he’s like my brother.”

“oh, okay.” his eyes scan my face, and when i turn to look at the bartender as she approaches, i can see him out of the corner of my eye, his eyes trailing down my body.

i smirk as he bites his lip, while i order two beers from the bartender.

“so, you’re… how old? twenty-six?” he questions.

“twenty-four.” i correct him. “i’m a year younger than John and i haven’t had my birthday yet.”

“so we’re the same age.” he nudges my shoulder with his, grinning down at me.

“for about another week, yeah.” i tease.

the bartender returns with our beers and Nico hands her cash, covering he and i’s drinks before i can get my card out.

“you didn’t have to do that.”

he shrugs before winking at me. “consider it an early birthday gift.”

“wow, a $5 beer! how lucky am i?” we laugh as we make our way back to the other three guys, Nico’s hand finding mine again amongst the crowd.

“y/n, there’s a surprise coming on the juke box.” John smiles, his missing tooth on full display.

“oh Johnny, did you lose your fake again?” i sigh, setting my beer on the table.

it’s an often occurrence that he takes the fake tooth out when he gets tipsy, losing it most times.

i ready myself to have to drop to the ground and find it, but he shakes his head, patting his pocket.

“nope! right here!” he grins, his chest puffing with pride. “ya proud of me?”

i giggle, patting his shoulder. “i am, Johnny. look at you, being responsible.”

the guys laugh, chirping him for the coddling that comes from me, but he waves them off.

we sit around at the table, the guys telling me all sorts of stupid stories from pre-games and even post-game celebrations.

i laugh as Jack tells me that his brother was supposed to come, but ended up staying home to watch a movie, and i defend Luke’s choice, saying that sometimes you just need some alone time.

it’s about twenty minutes later that a song starts playing throughout the bar, and my eyes meet John’s, who smirks at a job well done.

“oh Johnny, dance with me!” i hop up from my seat, stumbling slightly but Nico steadies me from his spot beside me.

“hell no.” John laughs, shaking his head.

“pretty please!” i plead, rounding the table and laying my hands on his shoulder. i give him the best puppy eyes i can manage, my lashes fluttering. “i’ll be your best friend!”

“you already are my best friend.” he cackles, shooing me away. “there’s no chance that i’m dancing in a bar not even meant for dancing.”

i pout, lightly kicking his shin, to which he just rolls his eyes and shoos me away.

“i’ll dance with you, y/n.” the thick accent that reaches my ears has me swiveling around to face Nico.

“you will?” i ask excitedly.

he nods, rising from his seat and holding out his hand to me. i grasp it in mine, pulling him towards an empty spot not far from the table. whilst doing so, i turn my head to look over my shoulder, sticking my tongue out at my best friend.

“go cap!” Dawson calls out, and Nico’s face flushes red as he holds onto my hips. my body is pulled against him, my hips grinding against his to the beat of the song.

“keep it PG-13, you two!” John levels me warning glare, his brows raised to show me he means it, but i wave my hand at him dismissively.

“he’s just boring, don’t listen to him.” i call out to Nico over my shoulder, and he lets out a strained hum in agreement.

i can feel him hardening against me as my hips sway along his crotch, but all i do is smirk, slowing down my pace in order to make it a little more sensual.

i look over at the table to find the guys attention no longer on us, instead joking amongst themselves once again. glancing over my shoulder, i look up at the Devils captain, an innocent expression drawn across my face.

“how am i doing, cap?” i whisper and his heavy lidded eyes find mine.

“doing great, schatzi.” his words are whispered in my ear, his hot breath fanning across my neck and sending a shiver down my spine.

i make a mental note to try and google translate the nickname when i get back to John’s tonight, but lord knows if i’ll remember.

the song ends and a new one begins, this one less sexual and more of a love song.

i twist in Nico’s grasp, facing him and resting my arm up on his shoulder, my hand toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. our bodies sway a little, back and forth.

“you’re pretty good looking, for a hockey player.” i hum, and he chuckles, his grip tightening on my hips.

“is that a compliment?” he teases.

“mhm. you even have all your teeth… from what i can tell.” he laughs again, nodding softly.

“i do.”

“pretty sexy.” i shrug.

“well, that’s a pretty low standard of sexy.”

“i’m an easy girl to please.” i wink up at him before untangling myself from his touch, walking back to the table with a new bounce in my step and a sway in my hips.

“you have fun out there?” Jack wiggles his eyebrows as i sit, and i glance over to make sure John isn’t listening before i reply.

“your captain- he’s single?”

Jack’s head tips back in laughter and i blush in embarrassment.

“yeah, he’s single. too focused on hockey for a girlfriend.” he finally responds before his lips press shut. my brows furrow for a second before Nico settles back down in his spot beside me.

“what are we talking about?” Nico raises his beer bottle to his lips, raising a brow at the hush that fell at his arrival.

“hockey!” Jack exclaims at the same time as i say “music!”

“hockey music!” Jack tries to drunkenly cover and i let my forehead fall into my hand at his stupidity.

“…hockey music?” Nico questions suspiciously, his eyes darting between Jack and i.

“big thing in Canada.” Jack nods. “you wouldn’t know, being from Switzerland and all.”

“…right.” Nico nods, and Jack throws me a horribly hidden thumbs up, but anyone who isn’t as drunk as Jack is can tell that Nico didn’t buy the lie for a second.

“y/n!” i turn at the sound of my name, finding John staring at me in waiting. “you ready to go? i need a shower.”

it’s then that i notice the new stain of beer all along his chest, his shirt sticking to his skin, and i laugh.

“yeah, let’s go, Johnny.” we bid goodbye to the guys, assuring them that we’ll see them tomorrow at the game, before we head out of the bar.

i send one last fleeting glance over my shoulder to Nico, his head tipped back in laughter and his hand clutched over his chest at something Dawson said.

“ya know, he’s not interested in a girlfriend.” John mutters on the walk to the car, simultaneously pulling his keys from his pocket and handing them over to me.

“what?” i feign innocence, helping him into the passengers seat. his six beers compared to my two that i had been nursing all night really took a toll on him.

“i just don’t want you to get hurt, rosie.” he pinches at my cheeks as i buckle his seatbelt and i roll my eyes at the nickname that’s stuck since high school.

John always did find it hilarious that i, as a 14 year old girl, always blushed when any older guys talked to me. including him, before we got so close.

“i’ll be okay, Johnny.” i assure him, closing the door and rounding the car.

it’s silent as i buckle up and start the car.

“as long as you know what you’re doing.” John holds his hand out and i take it in mine, allowing him to press a kiss to the back of it. “you’re my best friend, i just don’t want you to expect more from Nico and then get upset when he doesn’t give it.”

“John,” i sigh, pulling my hand away so i can put both on the steering wheel, starting en route to his apartment. “i’m not in the market for a boyfriend. especially not a long distance one. i’m just.. having fun.”

he nods in understanding and one corner of his mouth pulls up slightly. “yeah, me too. i like fun.”

i bark out a laugh, hitting his arm jokingly. “yeah, i know you do. mr. ‘if i leave with a girl tonight, can you stay at Jack’s?’”

he huffs at my interpretation of his voice.

“i love you, but i’m not letting you cock-block me.” he shrugs, crossing his arms.

“well, look at you now. getting home drunk, with beer down your shirt, and no pussy.” i joke, parking the car in the spot for his apartment and turning it off.

“hey, i came home with pussy.” he defends, gaping at me in mock offense.

“none that you’re getting.”

***

it’s sunday evening, the day before i leave.

the guys won their game last night, 6-2, but alas, i got too drunk with Dawson’s girlfriend, Ryleigh, to end up going out celebrating with them.

but Jack, Luke, Dawson, Ryleigh, Nico, and John were gracious enough to agree to a 2nd celebration tonight, so that i could experience a Devils win celly before i have to return home to Massachusetts.

i stare in the mirror at the little black dress that adorns my body, holding up two pairs of shoes, attempting to decide between comfort and style.

John walks past the open bathroom door, glancing over as he walks past before backing up and staring. his eyes squint and his lips purse before he makes a decision.

“the heels.” he tells me. “but bring the flats in your purse, so you can change when your feet start to hurt.”

i nod, looking over at him with a smile. “this is why you’re the harvard graduate.”

he laughs, shaking his head as he walks away, and i follow behind him to the kitchen grabbing my purse and sticking my flats inside.

“i’m warning you now, you might need to find somewhere else to sleep tonight. or else you may not get much.” John winks and i roll my eyes, but my smile sticks to my face.

“sure.” i retort. “i predict that this’ll go just like friday night and i’ll be helping you stumble through that door by midnight.”

my head nods over to the front door and his cheeks turn red at the reminder.

“not happening.” his head shakes as he grabs a water from the fridge. “i’m staying hydrated and i’m limiting myself to two beers.”

“i’m sure you are, Johnny.”

he crinkles his nose at my response before heading towards the door. “c’mon or we’ll be late.”

i rush behind him, half hopping as i pull my heels on my feet.

“slow down, i have heels on.” i whine but he just laughs.

“and little legs.” he snickers, earning a smack on the back for his comment. “ow! okay, sorry! jeez, you ever thought of playing baseball with an arm like that?”

“i’ll leave the sports playing to you. i’m good on the reporting side.”

John points towards our uber as we step outside the apartment building, pushing me towards it with a hand on my mid-back. he opens the car door and motions for me to slide in first before he joins me in the back seat.

the car ride is relatively fast, and just how i like it; quiet. our driver doesn’t attempt any small talk and John and i sit on our phones, occasionally showing each other a meme and making the other let out a silent puff of laughter. the driver bids us goodbye when we arrive to the club, and John walks straight up to the bouncer, telling him our names and allowing him to check the list to see that we indeed have a table rented.

Dawson, Ryleigh, and Nico are already there when we arrive, nursing beers. the two guys are discussing a bad play that occurred at last nights game, Ryleigh sitting idly beside her boyfriend with her chin in her hand and a mildly bored expression, but much to her delight, they drop the discussion when we arrive.

Dawson hops up from his seat, dapping up John before greeting me with a hug, Ryleigh pushing him from my arms as soon as he begins to pull away.

“thank god you’re here! i love hockey, i mean, i played it, but there’s only so many times i can hear the words ‘that play could’ve been prevented if…’ before i go insane!” she yells over the loud music, pulling me away from the table.

“let’s go get drinks!” she shouts and i allow her to lead me toward the bar, looking over my shoulder to find the guys sitting at the table, back to discussing last nights game.

Ryleigh and i push our way through the crowd of sweaty dancing bodies, stopping at the bar, and rather than waiting politely like Nico and i did at the bar, she waves down the bartender immediately.

“a martini, please!” she tells him, the attention immediately draws to me after she orders and my mind is left blank.

“uh, a tequila sunrise and a beer please. corona.” i sputter off the first things that come to mind and the bartender nods, setting off to make our drinks.

“two drinks?” Ryleigh questions.

“the beer is for John.” i clarify and she nods.

“so what’s up with you two anyways? are you like, together?”

“no. just friends since high school!” a look of realization settles across her face before her lips pull into a smirk.

“oh okay, that explains why Dawson was teasing Nico earlier.” i bite my lip at the mention of the swiss man that sits across the club.

“what do you mean? what was he teasing him about?”

“you.” she wiggles her eyebrows, but then turns to give a nasty glare as a drunken man stumbles into her back, pushing her into me. she spins back to me with a smile, after successfully making the man cower with just a look. “he was asking Nico if he was gonna take his chance with you. i thought it was weird, because i definitely thought there was something going on between you and John, but if you guys are just friends then it makes sense. so, are you gonna sleep with the captain tonight?!”

“well-” i’m cut off by the bartender, our drinks being slid in front of us, and Ryleigh tells him to put them on the tab for our table, which is under Jack’s name.

“did you just basically make Jack pay for our drinks?” i laugh as we make our way back through the crowd towards our table.

“he won’t even notice.” she waves dismissively. “now, what were you saying?”

i open my mouth to respond, but we’ve reached the table now, so i just send her an ‘oops’ look as she pouts.

“sweet, that for me?” John cheers, holding his hand out for the beer.

“no, this is for you.” i smile sweetly, holding out the cocktail and making his face drop. the guys laugh and i notice Jack and Luke have joined the table now.

“haha.” John deadpans. “you know i don’t do tequila. or orange juice.”

“yeah, you’re weird.” i crinkle my nose, handing him the corona and sitting down beside him, right across from the man Ryleigh were talking about minutes prior.

he looks so good. his hair is slicked back but not gelled, his facial hair cleanly groomed, and he wears a black button up. i can’t even see the rest of his outfit under the table, but i already know that it would make me instantly wet.

“hello, y/n.” Nico smirks when he sees that he’s caught my eye, his accent like music to my ears.

“hi, captain.” i’m grateful for the dim lighting of the nightclub, hiding the blush that rises to my cheeks upon being caught.

“did you like the game last night?”

“oh, yeah. i had a ton of fun, and you guys played great.” i reply. “it was nice being able to watch a game and not have to take any notes for articles.”

he laughs and butterflies dance in my stomach at the sound.

“maybe you should visit more often then.” he raises an eyebrow and i bite my lip, nodding.

“maybe i should.”

he seems content with my agreement, sitting back in his seat and tuning back into the conversation of the table. but i’m still entranced, watching him take a sip of his beer, his tongue gliding across his lip to retrieve a drop that clung to it.

i feel a nudge to my side and i see John smirking, wiggling his eyebrows as his eyes flick between me and his captain.

“shut up.” i stage-whisper, kicking his shin under the table. his face scrunches in pain, and jaw drops before he mouths ‘soccer’ and i roll my eyes.

i turn back around to find Nico watching us with an amused expression, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a smile, and i immediately flush.

“hey Ryleigh, wanna dance?” the blonde grins at my words, nodding excessively and untangling herself from Dawson’s arms.

she waits at the end of the table for me to meet her, locking arms with me when i do so, and we make our way to the dance floor, not too far from the table.

we sing along to the song with smiles on our faces, bouncing our bodies. this continues for a few songs before she holds my hand in the air as i lower my body slowly, grinding my hips in the air as i drop and then bounce back up.

my line of sight gravitates towards the table, locking eyes with a smirking Nico, who’s already watching me. i keep the eye contact as i grind my hips against the air, running a hand through my hair then letting it slide down my body. feeling confident, i send him a wink before i turn back to Ryleigh.

it’s not but a moment later that she grins, wiggling her eyebrows before quickly excusing herself to the table, and i’m left confused until i feel hands rest upon my hips, a body pressing against my back.

“were you a dancer at one point? or are your hips just naturally this fucking entrancing?” the swiss accent is whispered into my ear, his stubble scratching against the side of my neck, causing a delicious sensation to run down my body.

“guess it’s all natural.” my neck cranes to look back at Nico, making a point to wiggle my hips against him.

he groans, pulling my body closer to his, and i’m just about ready to let him have his way right then and there, on the dance floor where everyone can see.

“you gonna take me home with you tonight? or are you gonna let your chance slip away again?” i’m barely audible over the loud music, but i know he’s heard me when he smirks once again, his hands gripping my hips a little tighter.

“you know i’m not looking for anything serious. right, schatzi?” there’s that nickname again, and though i can’t guarantee, i know it means something good.

“and what makes you think i am?” i hum.

he chuckles lowly, his hand leaving my waist in order to tangle with mine. he doesn’t speak, rather pulling me back towards the table.

my mood deflates, believing that he’s decided i’m not worth it, but i’m mistaken when he holds out my purse, raising an eyebrow when i don’t take it right away.

“have you changed you mind?” he questions and i snatch the bag from his grasp, letting him lead me away.

i wave a goodbye to the table, who’s now chirping us, Dawson wolf-whistling and Jack calling out a ‘get it, Neeks!’. John is shaking is head, but his smile provides me with the comfort of knowing that he’s not actually bothered by me hooking up with his teammate.

i learn that Nico’s apartment is a mere ten minute walk from the club, and all ten minutes are spent in the quiet sexual tension that reverberates between us.

it’s not until the elevator doors close, that his lips crash upon mine; his hands on my cheeks, and his body presses flush against me, no space left between us. my spine arches, my upper back coming in contact with the elevator wall, but he just pushes me back further, our lips moving in sync.

the kiss is sloppy, our tongues exploring the others mouths and our hands tangled in each others hair, but it’s cut off quicker than i’d have liked by the doors opening.

he pulls away rather hesitantly, leading me down the hall and hastily unlocking his apartment door. he steps in first, holding the door open for me, and i follow after him.

i don’t get much of a chance to scan my surroundings before his lips are back on mine. my body being caged against the now-shut door. my teeth graze his bottom lip, his hands gripping my waist tightly. his kisses trail away from my mouth, now littering down my jawline and onto my neck.

my breathing is heavy as his tongue flicks across my pulse-point, his hands sliding lower to grab my ass under my dress, and i gasp as he nips at my neck, soothing the sting with a kiss.

my hips grind up to meet his but he steps back, his eyes meeting mine. his lips are swollen, and tinted with my red lipstick, and wicked smile on his face as he begins to lower himself to his knees. my hands drop with him, my purse hitting the floor with a thud, and his fingertips lightly graze down my thighs before pushing the hem of my dress up.

“is this okay?” my heart beats faster at his question, my head nodding in approval, and he accepts my consent, pushing my dress even further up my torso. “hold this.”

i obey his instructions, the satin fabric cool in my trembling hands. he knocks me off balance when he pulls one of my legs up, my thigh now resting on his shoulder, and if i hadn’t already been leaning against the door, i surely would have fallen.

his eyes keep contact with mine, peppering kisses up my thigh until he reaches my core. his tongue darts out to lick me through the lace of my thong, and a moan pours out of my lips, my eyes closing and my head dropping back against the door. my hands tangle into his hair, both to steady my balance, and to ready myself for him.

his hot breath fans over my pussy as he licks once more, and i’m unable to stop myself from grinding against his tongue, making him chuckle as he pulls back. i whine at the loss of contact, my eyes flying open, and i look back down just in time to watch him pull my panties to the side. his eyes flick back up to mine and i whimper when he makes direct contact with my throbbing clit.

his tongue swirls around it and i cry out in pleasure, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Nico.” his name falls from my lips like a prayer, and he pulls back making me pout.

“don’t go calling me by my name now.” my mind is fuzzy, my body alight with pleasure, and i wrack my brain to understand his meaning until it hits me.

i’ve been calling him ‘captain’.

“yes, captain.” i whisper, my voice sultry as i use the leg that’s hooked over his shoulder to nudge him back towards me.

he chuckles lowly at my neediness, but resumes his assault against my clit, flicking over it before dragging his tongue down to my entrance. he licks me like it’s his last meal, spreading my wetness around the area before and letting his nose bump against the bundle of nerves.

i shudder, my hands tugging against his hair while simultaneously pushing him deeper, and he moans against me, sending the vibrations straight into my core.

“captain.” my voice catches in my throat, i can feel myself getting closer to my orgasm the longer he continues, and when he sucks my clit between his lips, rolling it as his fingers prod at my entrance, i know i won’t last much longer. “i’m so close!”

he slips two fingers in, curling them and making me groan at the feeling of fullness. his tongue works against my clit as his fingers pump in and out, building that familiar feeling in my stomach, my hips stuttering against him.

“right there!” i squeak out as his fingers brush against just the right spot, and he takes the initiative to hit that spot a few more times, his pace speeding up. “oh god- i’m gonna come!”

with just a few more licks against my clit and the feeling of his fingers against my g-spot, my legs shake, my knees beginning to buckle as i release all over his hand and tongue.

he pulls away, rising to his feet and smirking at the sound that leaves my lips from the feeling of emptiness where his fingers once were. his hands now hold my hips to keep me upright, his chin and lips glistening with my cum, and i bite my lip at the sight.

“you taste so good, beautiful.” i’m sure that if my pussy wasn’t already throbbing, it would’ve started at those words.

his hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, pulling me in for a kiss. i can taste my arrival on his tongue and lips, causing me to moan into the kiss.

he pulls back, his hand lacing in mine as he pulls me towards his bedroom, and it’s then that it sinks in.

i just got tongue fucked against a door.

i giggle at the realization, making him look back at me with furrowed eyebrows and a smile.

“we only met each other just the other day, but god, the way you make me feel.” he grunts out, as we enter his bedroom, turning us so i walk backwards, the backs of my knees hitting the edge of his bed.

“you’ve got me feeling some type of way too.” i smirk, pulling his lips back down to mine. his lips part and i slip my tongue past them, pushing against his own.

“i’ve never come that fast.” i whisper against his lips. “it was surreal.”

“i’ve never gotten down on my knees like that for a girl.” he chuckles. “always kinda thought that was a figure of speech when it came to guys, but when i had you there, it’s like it came naturally for me to just kneel down and fuck you with my tongue.”

i pull away with wide eyes.

“are you telling me that was your first time giving oral?” i gape and his head tips back in laughter.

“no! did it feel like it was?”

“definitely not.” my cheeks turn red and his hand cups my face, his thumb trailing over my blush.

“i’ve obviously given oral, just never in that position.” he clarifies. “it’s always been in bed, or the one time on the couch.”

i laugh at his scrunched nose.

“that one wasn’t extremely comfortable.” he confesses, his head tilting.

“i can imagine.” i joke before pulling his head back down for another kiss, tired of the small talk.

he sucks at my bottom lip, his hand sliding around my head to tug at my hair, pulling my head back.

“tell me what you’re thinking.” he whispers, his voice low and raspy. “tell me what you want.”

my eyes flutter, rolling back in my head at his demanding tone.

“i wanna ride you.” i confess breathily.

his touch disappears as he steps back, my eyes shooting open to watch as his hands magnetize to his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it from his pants. his shirt is next, unbuttoning it and allowing it to fall open, giving me the chance to admire his wonderfully sculpted abs. he pulls the shirt from his body before he unbuttons his pants, his eyes watching me as mine watch him get naked, widening slightly when he pulls his pants and boxers down.

his erection springs free from the confinement of his pants, the tip red and already leaking pre-cum. my tongue drags across my bottom lip, but he shoots me a warning look, reminding me that i can’t suck him off if i want him inside of me. and oh how badly i want that.

Nico walks around me, rounding the bed and searching in his nightstand before his hand reappears with a foil packet, the dim lighting of his bedside lamp glinting off of it. i watch silently as he sits in the middle of the bed, gnawing at my lip as he tears open the foil, rolling the condom on with a groan.

his eyes stare me down, his brows raising in waiting.

“i wanna see you undress now.” he tells me, shaking me out of my trance.

my hands tremble as i slip the straps of my dress off my shoulders, pulling my arms out and letting the satin dress glide off my body into a pool of fabric on the floor. i kick my heels off next, letting them fall to the wood and tangle in my dress, before lastly bending over to pull my my thong down my legs, stepping out of it and dropping it to the floor to join my other items.

“you’re so fucking sexy.” his praise gives me a boost of confidence, my spine straightening. “come here and then turn around.”

his finger curls, drawing me towards him, and i crawl up the bed to straddle his waist.

“i said turn around.” he reminds me, his hand coming up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear.

i nod, turning myself around so my back faces him, looking over my shoulder to find his eyes glued to my ass. i smirk in amusement, rolling my hips so his dick slides between my wet folds.

“fuck.” he groans, grasping at his base and tapping it against my clit, teasing me a couple times.

“please, captain.” i plead, my head falling forward as my eyes squeeze shut.

the head of his cock lines up with my cunt and i take the initiative to back up onto him, filling myself up with his length. i let out a breathy sigh in contentment as he moans at the feeling of my walls closing around him.

my eyes roll back in my head as i grind onto him, the pleasure wracking my body is intense and i can’t keep myself from crying out as he thrusts his hips up into me.

“that’s it, baby. scream it out.” he grunts, his voice tight. “let my neighbors know how good i’m making you feel.”

i bounce my hips, my hands finding his thighs to best support myself as i do so. his hands grip my waist so tightly that i’m sure there’ll be bruises there tomorrow, but i can’t find it in myself to care, the pleasure overtaking any kind of pain.

the room fills with the sound of his dick pumping in and out of my wet pussy, and the echoes of our moans. my breath shaky as i call out.

“yes, captain!” my words are breathy but loud, and he thrusts up harshly at the nickname. “oh my god!”

he taps my ass, pulling me off with his grasp on my hips, and rising to his knees, leaving me on all fours in front of him, before he slams back into me. my breath hitches, my arms giving out as he speeds up his pace but never relenting in his harsh rhythm.

my upper body presses into the mattress, my jaw dropped open as shaky moans fall from my lips, whimpers escaping every few thrusts when he hits a certain spot, my hands gripping the sheets as i buck my hips back into his.

“feel so fucking good.” he huffs, and i look back to watch his face contort in pleasure, his sweaty hair falling into his eyes. “like you were made for me.”

his hand slides down my spine, making me shiver and arch my back, his dick hitting in just the right spot.

the knot in my stomach winds itself tighter and tighter, like a thousand rubber bands wrapped around a water bottle, just waiting for it to burst. and i know i’m done-for when his free hand circles around to rub my clit, still a bit overstimulated from our previous activities in his apartment entryway.

“holy fuck.” i choke, my pussy clenching around him. his grunt reaches my ears and my legs begin to tremble. “gonna come! please, captain, can i come?”

“go ahead, baby. make a mess on my cock.” he hums, and that’s all it takes for my breath to catch, my face turning red as i reach my second orgasm of the night, burying my face in the sheets to muffle my sobs.

his strokes become sloppy, faster and less rhythmic. “fuck- i’m gonna-”

i nod my head at his choppy words, whispering a few resounding ‘yes’s before he stills, his hips stuttering as a low sound leaving his throat as he releases into the condom.

i squeak as he pulls out of me, pulling me up against his chest before flopping back onto the bed.

“oh my god.” i breathe, listening to him pant, my eyes still screwed shut.

“tell me about it.” he huffs breathlessly, squeezing me to his side.

“like, oh my god.” i emphasize, causing a laugh to push past his lips.

he slips out from the bed, discarding the now used condom in the trash can before disappearing into the en-suite bathroom, coming back with a wet washcloth. he kneels beside me on the bed, cleaning me up before getting back up and throwing the washcloth in the bathroom sink and leaving the bedroom altogether.

my brows thread together in confusion, but i’m much too spent to follow, so i lie in the bed waiting for his return. which ultimately comes as he enters with two water bottles and my phone.

“this was going off in your purse.” he tells me, handing me my phone and a bottle of water.

i thank him as i check the device, finding three missed calls from John and a few texts.

___

from: Johnny Hockey 🏒♥️

whoops, sorry, forgot you were boinking!

___

from: Johnny Hockey 🏒♥️

you’re still coming home tonight though, right?

cause sorry to burst your sex bubble, but i’m not packing your shit and dropping by Nico’s at 8am to get you for your flight.

___

i let out a cackle at my best friends choice of words, typing back a response and letting him know i will, indeed, be going back to his apartment.

“John?” Nico guesses correctly, his arm snaking around my waist as i lock my phone.

“yeah.” i nod, allowing him to pull me tighter to his chest. “he wanted to make sure i was still coming back to his apartment to pack my stuff. plus, we have plans to get breakfast before my flight tomorrow and he was making it known that he would not be picking me up from here to do that.”

Nico chuckles. “so you’re leaving now?”

i feign offense, clutching a hand to my heart.

“trying to get rid of me so soon, Nico? right after we meddled about in these very sheets?!” i joke, and he shakes his head.

“nah, i guess you can stay a little bit.” he teases back, rolling his eyes jokingly and making me giggle in response.

“so…” i trail off, looking over at him. “round two?”

“wouldn’t this technically be round three?” he laughs. “you’re insatiable.”

i shrug with a cheeky grin. “just trying to make the most out of this night. i can’t guarantee when i’ll see you next.”

he smirks, hovering over me, his lips trailing kisses down my body, lingering on my tits.

“in that case,” he starts, pausing to let his tongue swirl my peaked nipple, successfully pulling a moan from my lips. “i can think of a few more ways to spend tonight.”

i bite my lip as i smile, one thought screaming in my hazy mind.

tonight will be fun.

#nico hischier smut #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nhl smut #nico hischier #nico hischier fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nj devils #faithlynn’s writings <3

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fleetingvow · 1 year

Text

‘ BITTER SOLITUDE .

Wednesday Addams x Female Reader.

SYNOPSIS. wednesday has always loved being alone. she enjoyed the company of solitude and the opportunity for something haunted in the eerie silence, but somehow your presence was missing. did she do something wrong? ( 4.33k words )

WARNINGS. angst, usage of profanities, this is unproofread. spoiler to those who haven’t watched it yet. english is not the author’s first language. the timeline is a bit off. confession under the rain.

NOTE. written in third person’s omniscient point of view.

TABLE OF CONTENTS. you can find my masterlist by clicking this link. my requests are open, so feel free to send in anything you want me to write.

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗟𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗦 𝗢𝗙 the typewriter halted. Enid had gone somewhere Wednesday didn’t care enough to acknowledge, resulting in the silence of the room that only whispered words of insanity inside her head — silent insanity. She turned her head to spot Thing settled on her dark bed, reading a travelogue magazine he found from Enid’s drawer, turning its pages tediously.

“Are you sure you gave her the note?” Wednesday monotonously questioned as Thing only answered a ‘yes’ with a tap of his finger on the sheets. Her eyes darted on the typewriter again, contemplating whether to use it or leave it alone for a while in order to wait for y/n with full concentration.

But she knew y/n’s presence won’t grace the room no matter how much anyone — most especially, Thing, would pine for it. She narrowed her dark eyes and tightened her jaw as she settled in her train of thoughts.

She used to like this state of living. She was alone or with Thing, but there was silence. The only thing that would bounce back to her ears was the sound of the typewriter clicking and Thing’s magazine pages turning. She loved solitude — lived for it, or perhaps the young Addams would even die for it, because of how much it was a rare luxury for her in Nevermore, but ever since she laid her eyes on a specific girl and her foot set in the divided room, she had grown used to the constant whines of invites to go outside and do some extracurricular activities that Wednesday either found too easy, boring, or stupid.

Y/N often complained about the homeworks they would get stacked with. She would normally curse at the teacher who gave it without a care in the world whether Wednesday heard or not. She felt comfortable enough to express her unnecessary emotions, as Addams would describe it, in the room with the half colourful and half devoid of hues window. She would wreak havoc and play games with Thing, gossip with him, and have a therapy session with him.

Wednesday was used to it, but she never wanted to admit it. Of course she didn’t. Because somehow, y/n had become part of the solitude that Wednesday found convenient even though she wouldn’t admit it aloud or even at all.

She argued that her presence was unlike any other that she found aggravating. That Wednesday didn’t have to put any effort in order to satisfy y/n’s needs in the established — friendship? Were they friends?

“Thing, why isn’t she here?” She asked again through gritted teeth, only gaining an ‘I don’t know’ from her companion.

No, she wasn’t her friend.

But if she wasn’t, why did her absence affect her so? Wednesday found it unsettling, and so unlike her dark cold self. Her eyes peeking through her eyelashes only narrowed even more, and much to her disgust, she wanted to do something about it.

Thing interrupted and made a few gestures, tapping, swinging, and folding his fingers to the girl who got more and more upset as she followed through with what he said.

“I sometimes wish that I don’t understand what you’re telling me,” she replied. “And it’s impossible that she would get upset over my silence. I’m always cold and silent. She should know that she signed up for it before being my . . . acquaintance.” Even without a certain tone in her statement, Thing could sense the venom in her voice. Y/N’s absence did tick Wednesday off.

He gestured, but before he could finish, she spoke again, “Finish that sentence, and I will pull out your nails and skin your fingers alive one at a time.”

Thing knew he crossed a line there. Why else would she threaten his nails?

The wooden floor suddenly creaked as Wednesday stood up from her chair, the typewriter long-forgotten in her wake to venture outside the room with a plan to confront her missing acquaintance.

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Wednesday knew where to usually find y/n, but much to her dismay, she wasn’t in Weathervane. Tyler hadn’t seen her either. The young Addams found him quite stubborn yet persuasive, but she had to decline his offer of coffee. She had pressing matters to tend to.

Y/N wasn’t with Enid. She wasn’t with Yoko and Divina either, nor Bianca. She wasn’t seen by Xavier the whole day, and her roommate mentioned her rush to go out of the room earlier in the fine Saturday morning.

This was suspicious to Wednesday. Y/N was always with either of them in Weathervane, the library, the field, or Xavier’s haven for his art. Where could she be? She shouldn’t be out and about when there’s a monster on the loose, ready to cut someone’s throat.

“You really don’t want her to see you?” Xavier questioned.

“No. I’m surprised she’s even out there looking for me,” Y/N replied, stroking the hued brush on the canvas. “But then again, it’s Wednesday. She’s probably only looking for me because she needs something.”

“She still thinks I’m the monster, honestly.”

“Well, you do have a lot of drawings of the monster for someone who isn’t it, but I guess I should trust you. Maybe more than I should trust Wednesday from now on.”

Xavier turned to her, eyebrows furrowing in bewilderment. He took the towel near his latest work and wiped his fingers, “I’m curious.”

“What?”

“What did Wednesday do to you? Why did you say all those things you said earlier?”

She shrugged and continued to smudge the blank paint on the canvas. She hated that the colour reminded her of the certain goth girl that made her feel things she shouldn’t be, but could she ever help it? Wednesday was a friend, but the circumstances now said otherwise.

“I won’t tell her.”

“Even if you did, would she care?” She asked bitterly without turning to Xavier, only paying attention to the work she was aimlessly doing.

“Y/N.”

“She didn’t do anything bad. It’s just — ”

“She didn’t do anything, did she?”

Y/N scoffed and stopped her work, looking up at the canvas with a sigh of defeat, “That’s exactly what she did.” She turned to him and set the brush aside, sardonically letting out a chuckle, “Ironic, yes?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Was she not that obvious enough? Y/N thought she’d done her best to make anyone notice her actions when she was around Wednesday. She wanted them to know so that they could help her with her because she knew she didn’t have the guts to ask them directly, ‘Hey, can you help me with Wednesday?’ Because she found it pathetic. Wednesday obviously wanted someone who could speak their mind and have similarities with her interests, and if she found y/n to be so pathetic enough to ask, what was the chance that the young Addams would even look at her in a different light?

“Y/N, I really can’t help you if I don’t understand what’s going on. Wednesday’s already a puzzle. I’m not sure if I can solve her and you at the same time. She’s not doing anything which is upsetting you because? Maybe my brain’s just a little rusty, but could you elabor — ”

Taking deep breaths in and out weren’t enough. She had to be straightforward with saying what she truly meant with her careful words, “God, Xavier! I want her to notice me!”

“But she does notice you, y/n.”

“You don’t get it.”

“I do. Trust me, I do.”

She shook her head, took the cobbler apron off and hung it on the frame of the canvas, not caring whether the paint had dried off or not. “Thank you for letting me in here and rant to you, Xavier.”

“What? Where are you going?”

“I think I just need a little moment to be alone now,” she mumbled and smiled. Xavier thought y/n had always been good at smiling at everything. If witchcraft was told to be her greatest gift, it was not. Smiling was.

But now he wasn’t sure.

Y/N thought her smiling at everything was a curse. It made her bottle what was truly in her chest.

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It was as if the day wanted to make everything harder for her as she found herself on Enid’s bed, lying quietly on her stomach with Thing on her side, turning the pages of the lotion options on the brochure y/n gave and promised to buy for him if he ever chose one. It seemed hard to be away from Wednesday, but she was about to accomplish her task of ignoring her completely when Enid decided it was nice to invite her to her room only to ditch her as a part of an elaborate plan.

Jokes on her, y/n knew what she was doing. When she said she wanted help, she didn’t mean now. She was too clouded with anger and teenage angst that she wasn’t in the mood to confront the busy as ever Wednesday Addams.

“Where were you?” Wednesday suddenly asked, not stopping from typing words into the typewriter.

“Xavier’s.”

“He said he did not see you the whole day.”

“And what does that make him?” The girl next to Thing inquired, her voice ice and cold. If Wednesday’s cold shoulder existed, y/n’s was much colder than an atlantic iceberg: She tried to shake it off, but she knew her well. She knew something was wrong, and it had to do with her.

“A liar, no less.”

“A friend.”

Wednesday didn’t respond any longer. It was futile to try to ease the tension in the room, and she had to not care or she would let her get in the way of her clear thinking. She was nearing the edge of the monster mystery in the woods, and she was sure it was Xavier, but there was no specific evidence. Her fingers typed aggressively again on the metal contraption, thinking about what they must have been discussing in his shed, what image they painted on the canvas, what disgusting expression on their faces they used while being near each other.

“Something’s on your mind,” Y/N suddenly stated. “Thing, could you go and ask Enid to come here?” She whispered to the pale hand as it crawled outside the room, leaving her and Wednesday alone.

There was no answer from the raven-haired girl. Now she was giving her the cold shoulder. Y/N has had enough thinking it was her fault. She sighed and stood up from the colourful bed, putting on the pair of black loafers she owned for when she went to class. Turning to the door to leave, Wednesday suddenly spoke.

“Everyone was worried.”

Y/N turned her head to her direction. She was still writing. She didn’t know exactly how to feel after the sudden statement. Should she be happy? Why did she feel slightly relieved? Could it mean that Wednesday cared for her? Maybe Xavier was right. Maybe she did get noticed by the certain girl. She wanted to smile, she wanted to ask, she wanted to keep asking more and more. This was her now. Living off a three worded sentence that came out of the Addams’ black painted lips.

“Were you?” Y/N questioned.

She did not respond again. It became a habit of Wednesday, but this one took a little longer than usual. Y/N did not budge from the door, though. She wanted an answer from her. At this point, she was desperate for a sign of anything, giving meanings to simple things only to confuse herself again.

Could Wednesday be holding herself back from giving her a transparent response?

“No.”

Y/N’s hopeful thoughts suddenly shut down as a bad flip on her heart created a shattering pound, dropping the beating chamber on the knots of her tied stomach. Her eyes slightly blinked in disappointment, licking her dry lips to provide moisture as she defeatedly glanced at the girl who had her back facing her.

“Wednesday, did you ever see me as a friend or anything more than just someone you’d talk to on certain occasions just because you needed something at all?”

The clicks stopped just as the door slammed shut behind Y/N, leaving Wednesday to sit on a conundrum of what she’d done wrong and what mistakes she’s been making.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀༉‧₊˚.

SUNDAY. Wednesday didn’t like the Sunday activities that Nevermore had planned for its students. She hated it more when she didn’t spot y/n amongst the crowd in the field. She wanted to say she didn’t notice her absence, but she deemed herself too busy to worry about the little things.

She did catch a glimpse of her on the clear afternoon in the path of Xavier’s shade. She wanted to gauge out her own eyes and vomit acid on them.

After her question the previous night, she hasn’t been able to get a clear grip of her mind to write her novel.

Y/N was an absolute distraction that she was glad to finally get rid of.

MONDAY. Wednesday thought she was over it, but the temporary absence of the girl in her mind was cut short when her sharp eyes spotted her in the corridor, her signature extras on her style standing out as she walked alongside her roommate who rambled things y/n found funny enough to laugh at.

Much to her dismay, her shoulder brushed past hers, causing both of them to stop and look back at each other.

The young Addams didn’t know which was the twist of a curved knife: Was it the fact that she was wearing pastel nail polish or her? Was it the fact that y/n looked at where she was going again and recovered too quickly? She didn’t know anymore whether the question referred to the encounter or some other things, but it was making her blood boil.

TUESDAY. That night, Wednesday enjoyed the midnight breeze and performed one of her cello solos in front of the silver moon and the mist in the sky accompanied by the over-observant stars. She wanted to scream, but she never screamed. She didn’t like shouting or being vocally loud. So, the only outlet? Music. She wanted it to be more grim, angrier, louder, and better. She didn’t care who or what heard. She was getting sick of the thoughts inside her head that she wanted to drown it all out by focusing on one thing.

However, no matter what she did, nothing seemed to cure it. Every twist of the tunes on the cello only reminded her of y/n's laughter from the distance, her eyes crinkling as she listened to the stories of someone else, meddling in their business. Y/N shouldn’t care about the peanut butter that her roommate got on her shirt — she shouldn’t even care about anyone at all. Why should she? How could she? The tune got more aggressive, making the hairs of her body stand, feeling the rhythm of her disdain.

Her face wouldn’t get out of her head. The more she wanted it out, the more it became vibrant and clearer, more stubborn to push away. Just like Y/N in the span of days and weeks that she knew her. She had always been there, not leaving her side. Wednesday never acknowledged her or anyone so much, and she knew it put people off, but not her. Not until —

Wednesday frowned.

Not until that day y/n asked — no, practically begged her to come to Weathervane because she said she had something important to say.

The music ended. Thing sat on the stand and made a gesture. The girl knew what he was asking about. Now it was clear for Wednesday. She had never been oblivious, but the fact that she never acknowledged anything that had to do with y/n when she was constantly pining for her already made her much of a fool than she thought. That’s why she asked her the question a few nights before.

Y/N was under the impression that Wednesday never cared, or that she failed to see her.

Which, if she was frankly speaking, she did fail yet foolishly at that. Wednesday wanted her own space, her own time, her own pace. Y/N wanted an action, and she knew she couldn’t give her that. Their differences were setting each of them aside, away from each other, but now that it was clear, Wednesday knew exactly what to do.

Even if she found it most humanly pathetic.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀༉‧₊˚.

WEDNESDAY. Surely the afternoon rain was not the right weather for archery, but y/n needed the comfort of the serrated edges of the arrows whipping past the air. The rain was just a bonus. Her thumb brushed past her ear as she blinked, concentrating on the dead centre of the target. Before she let the nock go, she felt a presence almost as dead as her grandmother on her side.

“I didn’t know rain and violence enticed you.”

Startled, y/n turned her head to look at the origin of the voice, letting go of her shot as it hit the centre with a sound. She sighed and gave her a warning look before she spoke, “It’s about to get more violent if you don’t step aside, Wednesday.”

“You’re getting better at your threats.” Wednesday plainly stated, earning a scoff from the girl who held the arrow on her side. “Hello, Y/N. Your archery is impressive.”

Did she do it right? Did she give a nice compliment? Will she take it well? Wednesday would owe Thing if it worked, but she’ll decapitate a piece of his finger if it didn’t. She didn’t know if she was in the right mind or was y/n looking more goddess-like under the stormy clouds.

Her hair was wet with rain falling down on her face. Still, her eyes sparked a feeling in Wednesday’s chest, something that got right up her throat that she swallowed immediately to refrain. She looked at her up and down, noticing how the lustrous shine of the weather made her seem like she was the weather.

“Get to the point, Addams. If you’re kissing my ass for a favour, it’s not going to work.”

Y/N wasn’t making it easy for her. She was going off what Thing told her she would say, and it was making the whole situation difficult to surpass. What should she say now? If she went out with the truth, how pathetic would she look?

Wednesday defied feelings.

But could she now? Especially when it was the truth, and Y/N was staring right at her face, flushing a certain disgusting colour on her cheeks that she hated and swore never to let on her skin. The deathly cold temperature of her body was running hot from the look she was giving her. Her Uncle Fester was surely away, but she felt electric sensations stabbing her insides. As much as she loved stabbing, she would like it better if she was the one holding the knife.

“You’re wasting my time — ”

“I did notice you, even from the very beginning that the page of my life in Nevermore turned. That was until I got preoccupied by what was hiding in the forest, seeking its next victim. I feared that I will destroy this school to ruins, hurt the people I do not care about, and the people I tolerate.” Wednesday suddenly started. She walked closer to the girl who ruled the archery grounds and continued, “I admit I lost sight of you since then. Hence why I’m here. To apologise to you for my irresponsibility.”

The lack of emotion in her voice would have ruined the whole speech, but for y/n, it was the lack of something else. She was expecting her to tell her more, rather than just a simple sentiment that left her hanging whether Wednesday reciprocated her feelings or not. However, she understood completely that no matter how many days, weeks, months, and years that she planned to ignore the certain Addams, she would never manage to have her see her in the way she wanted. A ‘no’ is a ‘no’ after all, even if it was delivered indirectly and unpolished.

Y/N nodded and turned to the target halfway when Wednesday spoke again, noticing the deprivation of enlightenment in the speech she gave. The girl in the darker uniform sighed and looked down, unable to meet the eyes of the girl before her as she questioned, “The day you told me you had something important to say, what was it?”

“Does it matter? You didn’t care enough to show up and know.”

That caused a slight intoxicating heartache that made her come to her senses and feel the searing gaze of the girl. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to join you, but now that I realise the gravity of the matter, I wish to know what you wanted to say.”

“You have an idea as to what it was.” Y/N was tougher to crack this time around.

“But I want your enlightenment, y/n.” But Wednesday was more stubborn than she ought to be.

“You really won’t leave me alone for shit, won’t you?”

“Not unless you tell me.”

Y/N’s furrowed eyebrows only met again closely. She threw the bow down to the ground and marched past Wednesday, not wanting to tell her what it was or it will make her look pathetic again. If she told her, she wouldn’t be able to help herself. How would it look when a deep-feeling person cried in front of someone who didn’t give a fuck about anything?

“Y/N.”

“Wednesday, you’ve done enough damage and I’m trying to stay the fuck away from you and steer clear out of your way but you keep appearing with your stupid braids!” She exclaimed exasperatedly. “You just see me when you need me for something. You don’t notice me like you said you have. You never looked at me in the perspective that could show more of what I could be! You never see more than someone to satisfy your convenience, and if I’m just that, just a speck of dust on your shoe, just leave me be, okay?”

That was it. Wednesday never saw her this angry before, but the displeasure of emotion it brought felt well-deserved to herself. After all, she was the reason for it.

“Because I’m tired of throwing myself to someone— you, and not see it being given an answer to. If you wanted me to stop, you could have said so, but no. You never truly noticed, did you?” Y/N’s voice cracked, and there she knew, she had to keep it brief before she started embarrassing herself before Wednesday. The girl who never cried ever since she reaised it never did anything. “That day I invited you to Weathervane, I intended it to be something more than friends would do. I wanted to tell you how I felt around you, because you were a part of everything I did ever since I started showing up in your dorm every single day and saw so much of you from afar. The mood I get from you affects the whole day ahead. I was fascinated about how you knew so much yet also knew so little. You never truly realised how perfect you are in every single aspect, and even the tainted side, I embraced it all, because that was how willing I was to devote myself to you. I knew I wouldn’t have a shot because even if I knew how you’d take a three-minute break from writing or which type of drink you’d usually order, I don’t know anything about you. I don’t even know if you liked people like me. Fuck, do you even like girls at all? I don’t know, because do you even want me to know y—”

Wednesday has had enough of her angry outburst slash teenage angst confession under the rain slash rant, because now that the letters of each words have reached her ears and processed in her head, and her heart pounded in sync with the cello solo constantly playing in the back of her mind, she felt impatient with waiting for the end of Y/N’s dramatic confession.

Impatient that she couldn’t wait another second to march forward, aggressively pull her by the collar and crash her lips against hers, taking the girl by surprise as Wednesday pulled away shortly after before mumbling, “You always talked too much.”

“Wait, does that mean—?”

Wednesday wanted to roll her eyes, but her emotionless stare at Y/N’s face already gave the answer the girl was looking for, as well as another surprising kiss that warmed their bodies in the cold misty weather, hearing one another’s hearts go wild inside their chests like birds begging to be freed into the wild.

Wednesday hated teenage angst, but now maybe there was a part of it she tolerated.

Suddenly, a squawk from the distance was heard, followed by a crow falling right next to them, causing the two to pull away and look.

Y/N could have sworn Wednesday smiled, but she was quick to recover from the plague of crescent lips.

“In case you were wondering, that was a sign of approval from my dead ancestors.” The young Addams informed.

She wasn’t sure why y/n didn’t scream or take what she said before back and say she regretted it all, but Wednesday liked the circumstance as it was.

It was just her and y/n, the dead crow on the archery field, and the peculiar teenage outcast angst under the cliché rain.

“If you tell the others any vivid details about this, I will kill you, calcify your heart and keep it in my drawer.”

“I’d like to see you try, Mary Shelley.”

#wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams angst #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams x you #jenna ortega #wednesday imagines #wednesday imagine #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams fluff #fleetingvow

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inaflashimagine · 1 year

Text

lo mejor (i)

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader (can be read as reader being latine)

summary: nueva york had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

but he continued to find himself going to your restaurant, a few of the other spider-people less than convinced that it's just for your food.

a/n: as a latina who also eats empanadas to cure their hanger, i just needed to get this off my chest. will be a multi-part fic!

3k wc. no warnings for this chapter, other than a litany of english + spanish curses

masterlist | one | two

–

“I’m in hiding. He’s angry at me…again…”

As much as the kid was growing on Jess, she sent an unimpressed look at the flickering hologram. “In other news, water is wet.”

“But seriously, how can he expect me to write a report only 5 minutes after I finish a mission? He’s worse than my AP Lit teacher, and Ms. O’Connor was—”

“Gwen, I’m gonna stop you right there. Because we’ve been through this before. You know how to fix this.”

Though her face was covered by her mask, the widening of her goggles before her shoulders sagged in defeat showed Jess that Gwen knew exactly what to do.

“But can’t you come with me? What if I mess up the order?”

“Are you kidding me right now? Didn’t you want me to ‘chill with the hovering’?”

Gwen sighed, already starting to swing her way through Nueva York to get to her destination. “I know, I know, I’ll go. Do you want anything?”

“No need, it sounds like you might have to buy the whole store to be in his good graces again. Good luck.”

Her mentor logged off before hearing her star pupil groan in frustration—what was supposed to be an effortless day was quickly becoming a pain in her ass.

Like countless times before, Gwen quickly changed into her set of ‘futuristic’ civilian clothes to blend in with the rest of the long line at the tiny, but packed, restaurant. If it weren’t for the enticing smell of freshly baked dough, Gwen wondered if this would all be worth it. She’d have to cancel the jam session with Hobie if this plan didn’t work, lest she face the wrath of the villain of the week, Miguel O’Hara.

But when she finally saw a familiar smile and a warm pair of eyes greeting her behind the counter, she realized that Jess was right—she knew how to fix this.

Or rather, you did.

“Mi gringa favorita! It’s been a while. How many empanadas does el jefe need?”

–

Miguel was having a bad day.

It started with the usual suspect: Peter B., un pendejo who believed that Miguel and Jess actually wanted to hear about his daughter’s bowel movements.

Not to mention the impromptu comedy club Miguel had to break down so everyone could get back to doing the jobs they forgot they signed up for. (Nothing was more irritating than being surrounded by unfunny people who genuinely thought their endless quips and corny jokes landed. Every. Single. Time.)

Then for the umpteenth time, he had to tell Gwen to turn in her reports on time. Yet that was nothing compared to her latest efforts in convincing Miguel to let Miles visit HQ and gently explain (gently because, “He doesn’t know any better!”) that he’s the biggest threat to the multi-verse. These poor attempts, unsurprisingly, fell flat. O’Hara warned Jess that the girl would be a liability, and each day he grew closer to sending the kid back to Earth-65 if she decided to pull any tricks.

But the worst part of this dreadful day was when a nervous, slightly cowering Chef Spidey told his boss there were no more empanadas.

“What?” Miguel’s brows furrowed in confusion, indifferent to the uncomfortable silence that enveloped the cafeteria at the sound of his incredulity. “What do you mean, there’s no more empanadas? Who ate the last one?”

“He promised me not to tell you!”

And with that, Miguel stalked to his office where he was currently sulking in, seriously considering changing Peter B.’s portal watch to a day pass as punishment for apparently eating over a half dozen empanadas.

Just as he was about to give Lyla the command, his associate in the heart sunglasses suddenly appeared. “Gwen Stacy will be here in a minute, might want to start lowering your platform.”

“Maldita sea, didn’t I tell you to not let anyone in?” He pinched the bridge of his nose—he’d much prefer for his ears to be rattled with Peter B.‘s ramblings and even Ben Reilly’s moping over Gwen’s incessant whining about how crappy the current Spider Society establishment was. (She was spending way too much time with Hobie.)

“Hey pal, that’s not a nice word, and she comes bearing gifts that you’ll like.”

“Oh really?” he remarked dryly, arms crossed as he began his descent. “She finished the ten detailed reports she owes me?”

Yet Miguel caught the heavenly smell of beef empanadas before seeing Gwen’s sheepish face. And did he also catch a whiff of chorizo and cheese?

“Hi, Miguel. Heard you haven’t had lunch yet, sooooo…” Shaking off her nerves and avoiding that terrifying gaze, she held out the two large boxes as her apology. “And I’ll submit those reports by tonight, I promise.”

An eyebrow raised, he webbed the boxes toward himself and held them even more tightly when he saw where they came from.

His eyes glossed over the mascot of Mama’s Empanadas, a smiling and waving empanada that almost seemed to assure him that his hanger would quickly be cured. But it was the words hurriedly scribbled at the bottom that displaced the rage he’s felt all day with a weird pang in his chest:

“Buen provecho, Jefe :)”

Miguel quickly turned away, hoping he seemed more composed than he actually felt. As the floor to his office slowly began to ascend, he said, “I’ll give you one more day to finish those reports. But don’t think it’s because this bribe worked.”

“Of course.” Gwen hoped the amusement wasn’t clear in her voice, smirking at the shoulders of the tall man lose their tension as he began eating the ‘bribe’. Would Hobie even believe her if she told him what just happened?

“Thanks, Miguel. See you tomorrow!”

He didn’t even register her last words, eyes closed as he savored the explosive taste of smoked chorizo and finally allowed fond memories to flood his brain.

—

Nueva York had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. Unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

It’s not that he didn’t know how to make them–he’s sure that he could follow his abuela’s recipes that his ma once gave him–but he just didn’t have time. After all, nothing was more convenient than cashing in the perks of the suit to cut a long line and grab free food. But once Lyla finished the goober she was working on (“It’s not a goober, Miguel, it’s a gizmo!”), he’d have even less time to do anything other than jump into different dimensions, some of which would certainly not sell empanadas.

This explained why after changing into sweats following a grueling shift, he found himself staring across the busy street at Mama’s Empanadas, the hunger in his growling stomach overwhelming. The small restaurant was engulfed by flashing neon lights and signs boasting the quality of their food in both Spanish and English. The place was always swarming with people whenever he swung by, but as closing time approached only a few stragglers remained.

And so did you.

Miguel hoped that you were the owner of the shop rather than an overworked employee, considering that he couldn’t remember the last time someone else took your position behind the counter. But even from this distance, he could see your cheery smile while you welcomed new patrons and the regulars, almost as if you were genuinely happy to be serving them on a late Friday night.

With all the running around he’s been doing lately, he couldn’t even remember the last time taking on the Spider-Man mantle gave him the same joy he spotted on your face miles away.

O’Hara felt his phone vibrate as he saw the latest message from Lyla illuminating his screen.

“Got some news to share! Might want to deliver the bad stuff in person though.”

“Que chingada,” Miguel cursed, rubbing tired eyes as he contemplated whether to reply. How could the news get even worse after Earth-1610 lost Peter Parker, their only Spider-Man?

Raising his head, he watched you approach the storefront to activate the electrified gates that would close the shop.

And for reasons his brain would never be able to explain, he felt himself panic, almost as if his body jolted awake as he deftly weaved through honking cars and found himself in front of you, the only barrier being a pesky glass door that would take a millisecond for him to break.

Yet he was surprised to see you hold your ground, and even more shocked to see you flash him an annoyed look he’s never seen you give to any other customer. Shoulders tense, he was ready for you to begin berating him for being a nuisance and to leave the fuck off the premises.

“Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan!”

Miguel blinked, not sure he heard you correctly. Sure, calling him an idiot is warranted, but he was not almost run over by those cars. Even if he did get hit–which, again, he wouldn’t–then the car would be hurt, not him.

Instead of explaining himself without implicating his alter persona, or at the very least say something remotely coherent in English or Spanish, Miguel found himself even more gobsmacked when you opened the door and ushered him inside, frantically asking him questions in a random jumble of Spanglish as you tried inspecting a man seemingly twice your size for any injuries.

“¿No hablas español? Should I call 911, mierda, is this guy catatonic? Should I have moved him? Are you hurt?”

Feeling your hands shake his shoulders finally snapped him out of whatever funk he was in, confusion washing over him as he tried to piece together what just happened in the past minute. Heeding your obvious concern, he sighed and did his best to ignore the absolutely embarrassing predicament he put himself in.

“Estoy bien,” he assured you, his relief matching yours as you let go and immediately exhaled. “I really am fine, I just wanted to try the empanadas before closing.”

There was that exasperation again, your deadly expression sufficient in asking him ‘Are you serious?’ that your high-pitched words of “En serio?” were quite unnecessary, in his opinion.

“Was running across a congested street not serious enough?”

You scoffed before glaring at him for a few more seconds, though he could see the uncertain shift in your eyes. “This isn’t some twisted joke to rob me, right? Last thing I need is having Spider-Man beating you up and breaking my new glass counter.”

Miguel couldn’t hide the wry twist of his lips, fully aware that he could be thrown out at any minute but still curious to hear your opinion. “Not a Spider-Man fan?”

“As long as he doesn’t destroy my property, I wouldn’t even mind defending the dude on J. Jonah Jameson’s stupid podcast.“ You shrugged casually, already beginning to make your way behind the counter after deeming Miguel to be harmless, despite looking like he could crush you with his pinky.

He didn’t know how to respond, still perplexed about why you hadn't kicked him out yet.

He soon brushed those thoughts to the side when his mouth watered upon seeing you point at the remaining golden-brown pastries. “Well, these will be on the house, since you almost died in front of my restaurant. We only have 3 chicken left, 2 guava and cheese, and 1 chorizo with potato.”

Miguel felt his phone vibrate again–no doubt it was Lyla.

And for the first time in a long time, he turned off his phone, not even bothering to view the message as he chose to look at you instead.

“I’ll take them all.”

–

When you first decided to take over your family’s restaurant, your tía taught you how to handle rude customers while also giving you advice on how to treat the nice ones so they always returned.

However, there was nothing in her playbook on how to treat the weird customers.

And Miguel O’Hara was the weirdest by far.

You took a light sip of your café con leche as you stole a glance at him starting his second empanada, the sight of such a quiet, large man sitting in a tiny seat and restraining his urge to inhale the food in one go quite comical. Much like how he ate the first one, he attempted to seem unaffected by the taste of the meaty filling.

But after doing this for so many years, no one could ever hide their reaction from you. Especially the pure happiness one got from eating a toasty, savory empanada.

And seeing the dark red-brown eyes of the intimidating man briefly widening and softening in amazement only made you want to find more ways to recapture that fleeting moment. To lengthen it and bask in its warmth, even if that meant countless hours of mincing, seasoning, kneading, and baking.

“¿Entonces? The only thing you’ve said these past five minutes is your name. ¿Que dice el juez?” you teased, leaning back and smugly folding your arms as you already knew what his verdict would be.

It was a choice you instantly regretted, almost falling out of your chair as he stopped looking at his half-finished empanada and focused all of his attention on you, a gaze so intense you briefly pondered if you left the oven on with the sudden swell of heat suffocating you.

He pursed his lips and rolled those impossibly broad shoulders, yet another action that made the room feel uncomfortably stuffy for no good reason. “It’s one of the best empanadas I’ve ever had in my life.”

Now it was your turn to be surprised, expecting to hear a ‘good’ or maybe even a ‘great’, but not the highest of praises.

A pregnant pause ensued before a hearty laugh escaped you.

It was impossible to suspend your disbelief–all of this coming from one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen enter this shop? Only when pigs fly, or as your abuela preferred to say, “Solo cuando los cerdos vuelan.”

“¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto.”

He had to know that his half-glare really was just him smoldering. There was no way this man was oblivious to the effects of that gaze.

“I don’t think I’m a liar or particularly funny. Though I actually would appreciate a Coca, si la tienes.”

You desperately hoped that your immediate sigh sounded one stemming from annoyance rather than relief–having an excuse to get up and look for a can of soda rather than the brooding dude a mere foot away from you was the only way you’d stay sane through this strange night.

“I do appreciate the kind words,” you said after recollecting your composure, the cool air blasting from the fridge reminding you to retain at least some semblance of professionalism, “but these aren’t even the freshest batch. No way they’re the best you’ve had.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow as you handed him the can. “I didn’t say the best. And you don’t have any with a glass bottle?”

You rolled your eyes before plopping back into your seat. “If I did, I would’ve hit you in the head with it quite a while ago. And especially now, after your challenge.”

“It’s not meant to be taken as a challenge–”

“Ah, but I’ll take it as one because my family’s reputation is riding on this. Or else mi abuela, que en paz descanse”–you pointed to the framed picture of the sweet, old lady right above the cash register–“lanzará sus chanclas poderosas, and I don’t want to get hit by those, they’re stronger than that car that was about to run you over.”

The roll of his eyes was obnoxiously overt, but you barely caught a glimpse of the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, masterfully hidden by taking a sip of his coke.

“How would this so-called challenge even work?”

“You’re asking the wrong question because that’s an easy answer. The next time you come, I’ll bake you a fresh batch of your favorite empanadas, no matter what kind and even if you come 5 minutes before closing.” Listing the types with each finger, it’s hard to contain your excitement. “Baked, fried, sweet, savory, you name it.”

“¿Y si no me gustan?”

“¡No seas tonto! Yet another dumb question, because you’ll not only like them, you’ll fucking love them. The right question is whether you’d think they’re the best.”

You swore he inched closer, the once faint smell of sandalwood from his cologne now overpowering your already-fried senses. “And what if they’re not the best?”

“I’ll get two more attempts afterward. If they still don’t meet your palate’s expectations, which honestly isn’t a worry of mine, then you’ll get free empanadas for the year.” It’s said without hesitation, with confidence you have no idea how you mustered all of a sudden.

Out of all moments to be driven by pride, you choose to do so while tightrope walking on a straight razor.

And you wondered if Miguel read your mind because, for the first time, you heard his laugh. It’s a sardonic one, but its deep timbre was as attractive as his face and meshed well with his incredibly dry sense of humor.

Maybe the walk wouldn’t be as bad as you imagined.

“You’re either extremely arrogant in thinking you’ll win, or too trustful in people to believe they wouldn’t scam you with this deal.”

“But you’re not just some normal person,” you reply simply, amused to see his shoulders slightly stiffened, “and I believe you when you said you’re not a liar. Call it a gut feeling.”

“What do you even get out of this?” he asked, puzzled at how you just weren’t setting yourself up for failure. He didn’t need Lyla for him to visualize the thousands of ways you could lose.

Your wolfish grin showed a lot more than your words. “Nothing, other than making my family proud. Anddd perhaps receiving a five-star review on Yelp wouldn’t hurt either.”

Running a hand through his hair, he shrugged before lifting his soda can toward you. “That’s the least I could do. But don’t think I’ll make this easy for you.”

You gently clinked his can with your cup of coffee as your eyes locked with his, wondering what the hell you just got yourself into.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

–

translations (please lmk if you need more):

Mi gringa favorita - my favorite white girl

El jefe - the boss

Un pendejo - a dumbass

Maldita sea - goddamn it

Buen provecho, Jefe - Enjoy your meal, boss

Que chingada - what bullshit/wtf

Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan! - Are you an idiot? They almost ran you over!

No hablas espanol? - You don't speak Spanish

Estoy bien - I'm fine

Que dice el juez - What does the judge say?

¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto - Liar! You say it as if it was the last coca-cola in the desert

Una coca - A Coca Cola

Si la tienes - If you have it

Que en paza descanse - may she rip

Lanzarla las chanclas poderosas - she'll release her powerful flip-flops

Y si no me gustan? - And if I don't like it?

No seas tonto - Don't be silly/dumb

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #astv x reader #lo mejor series

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sanasballoons · 6 months

Text

Just finished watching ‘My Life with the Walter Boys’ and I have some thoughts:

- I can tell I’m too old to watch this shit bc the weird love triangle with two brothers just gave me the ick.

- Jackie was edging on Bella Swan territory but she was nice and actually had some ambition beyond being obsessed with a boy so she was slightly better. Still like nearly every other character in the show more than her though.

- Also they gave my girl the most ugly boring name - Jackie Howard? Really?

- I wanted to see more of both Nathan and Danny, such sweethearts. Also if there is a season 2 - Danny and Erin pls!!!!

- WHY DIDN’T WE GET TO SEE THE PLAY?!

- Nathan and Skylar, adorable but how Skylar resisted those huge blue eyes for so long is anyone’s guess.

- Alex was a bit of a whiney little bitch but Cole was INSUFFERABLE. Why did he do literally anything he did? He was an asshole who nearly redeemed himself before stripping it all away at the end.

- Cole ruining his mums speech is what made him unforgivable for me, what a tool.

- Felt sorry for his friend too even though he was kind of an asshole, he was obviously just trying to cling onto their friendship and Cole just didn’t seem to care much.

- Basically Cole is a selfish asshole who isn’t nearly as deep as he thinks he is.

- Kiley deserves the world, Alex doesn’t deserve to even make direct eye contact with you sweetie, he has no taste. JUSTICE FOR KILEY!

- Tara also deserved better than that teacher guy.

- Loved Grace as well, she reminded me of myself at that age.

- If there’s a season 2 my girl Erin will become my favourite character I know it. She’s not quite the ‘bitchy cheerleader with a secret heart of gold’ character I love, but she was getting there.

- Love Katherine. And George is HOT!

#my life with the walter boys #mlwtwb #Jackie Howard #mine #text post #Cole walter #Alex walter

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zukosdualdao · 22 days

Text

through all of the shadowy corners of me

zutara month, day three: (re)meet ugly/meet cute. @zutaramonth

summary: as katara's plans on the anniversay of her mother's murder fall apart, she ducks into a teashop to wait out the storm and finds herself familiar with the rude tea server she comes face to face with and promptly bursts into tears. because of-fucking-course.

warnings: grief, nightmares, references to kya's murder (and ursa's disappearance, though that is less explicit), and references to ableism wrt facial differences. also, just, some lightly gratuitous swearing, on behalf of katara's no good very bad day. she deserves it.

other notes: title taken from landon piggs’ falling in love at a coffeeteashop. because i am basic in that way.

Katara’s pretty sure the universe is conspiring against her.

First, it was the fucking felt-tip markers being all dried up—damn it Sokka—she needed for the posters for the protest she was supposed to head.

(She tries not to think about how really, first, it was the dream she woke up from, that she wakes up from often, but especially on this day, the dream with fearful eyes and the ominous drip of blood and the feeling of too late too late too late. The dream that is also a memory.)

Someone had to make the posters—because seriously, why was the school shutting down the campus food bank when a third of the student population was food-insecure?— so she missed her first class of the day to get new ones from the closest craft store, over half an hour way with traffic. There was supposed to be a quiz, too, and the professor is notoriously stubborn about absences and make-ups.

And then there was this huge storm, so they couldn’t even have the protest today like they’d planned.

Now, as Katara ducks out of the rain and into the tiny little hole-in-the-wall ambient tea shop—The Jasmine Dragon, the sign had said—which is all warm lighting and soft ringing laughter from the bare few patrons inside, she figures she can at least get a cup of something hot to drink. It’s been a truly horrible day, and she can’t wait to get back home, sleep for ten hours straight, and wipe it from the record of her memory, but right now, this is her one saving grace.

So, when she gets to the second place in line, very patiently waiting as the server at the front snipes at the man in front of her, part of her wants to reel up to confront him. Sure, she knows customer service can be a day-in, day-out nightmare—she didn’t spend her first two semesters waiting tables because it was fun—but really, he could at least try to be a little nicer. The man wasn’t doing anything wrong, as far as she could see.

When she gets to the front, Katara opens her mouth to say—something, she doesn’t know what—and is caught off-guard to find that she recognizes him faintly. With his eyes the color of amber, swoopy, dark hair, and a shiny, painful-looking burn scar set against the left side of his face, on her right—yes, he was a boy who was in Sokka’s class back in high school. And he was a total jerk, barely speaking a word to anyone except to get into arguments, whether with teachers or other kids. She didn’t know him all that well herself, but she’d never liked him from the stories Sokka told or for the way he seemed to bristle at everyone and everything as she watched from a morbidly curious distance.

Zuko. Yes, she remembers him.

“Can I help you?” he asks, his voice almost a snarl when she spends a beat too long taking in his features, though he’s not looking at her, instead glancing down at his scratchpad. “I’m supposed to tell all of the customers we’re out of the oolong,” he adds in a rough voice, without looking up.

Katara wants to rage, wants to scream, why does he think he gets to treat people like that, god, at least have the decency to look me in the eye and treat me like a person when you’re being a dick—but instead, she bursts into tears.

Very loud, messy tears. It’s been a long day.

And, well. He certainly looks up then.

“Um,” Zuko says in lieu of an actual reaction, his right eye wide. His expression has softened considerably, his mouth shaped in surprise, his browline furrowed. “We have jasmine?” he tries.

Well, she thinks as he stands there stiffly, the perfect image of a deer in headlights, before reaching over the counter to push the napkin dispenser toward her, this is humiliating.

At least it’s not terribly busy in here. There’s no one standing beside her, and she only feels one or two worried glances from the tables, the shop mostly empty.

“Sorry,” Katara says through her tears. “God, I’m sorry. I just—I’m having awful day,” she says, motioning to her face as a way of explanation before yanking a napkin out from the dispenser to dry her face.

Zuko’s lip curls in what she thinks might be sympathy.

“Me, too,” he admits on a sigh. “Sorry. What can I get for you?”

“Um,” she says, shaking her head and smiling through still teary eyes. God. “A cup of jasmine tea would actually be nice.”

“Sure.”

She pays quickly and tries to ignore his eyes as they follow her over to the tiny round table she chooses in the corner. One cup, she thinks. She’ll drink one cup of tea and be out of here quicker than even the lightning flaring outside, before anyone can say anything about it, and then head back to her apartment and think through every turn in life that got her there, sobbing in line at a tea shop as a mean boy she knew from high school tried not to call her on it.

But he has other plans, because when he brings her order to her, he doesn’t just leave like he’s supposed to, standing there for several awkward moments that feel as though they’re spanning lifetimes.

Yeah. The universe is definitely conspiring against her.

“So… you’re… good now?”

Katara stares at him blankly for a moment, feeling her jaw grow a little slack.

“Are you… checking on me?”

A beat. “I’m just very committed to customer service,” Zuko deadpans, and Katara can’t help but laugh.

“Right,” she says. “Yeah. I’m… good. Thank you.” He nods—just once, a rigid jerk of his head—and starts to turn on his heel to leave.

But for some reason, she suddenly doesn’t want that. He’s being… almost kind of sweet, and it’s so incongruous with the memory she has of him that it kindles a new kind of curiosity. “We went to school together, you know,” she says quickly, before he can fully turn around. He pauses in his tracks. “You probably don’t remember, but—”

“I remember you,” Zuko says before she can even finish. She frowns, intrigued. “You always wore your hair up in a braid and those loops. And once, even though we barely knew each other,” he adds with the faint traces of a smile, “you told off that kid when he was… uh…” The smile fades.

Katara remembers suddenly. It was an overcast day, not unlike the way this one had started, and Zuko had been sitting alone in the courtyard, not bothering anyone (for once) as Katara made her way to lunch when she saw some other kid go up to him to start needling him, saying horrible things about his scar. Very loudly.

Katara hadn’t liked that, so she’d marched right over and told the kid so. Also very loudly.

She’s pretty sure that’s the only time she and Zuko even tangentially interacted, and even then, they hadn’t spoken any actual words to each other. Everything else she knew about him came from stories and distant observation.

“When he was being a dick,” she finishes for him.

“Yeah,” Zuko says. Peering through his eyelashes, he adds more quietly, “I’ve always remembered that.”

“Really?”

A shrug of his shoulders. “You didn’t have to do that, but you did anyway.”

“I don’t like cruel people.” He nods, hands in his pockets, eyes suddenly downcast and looking almost a little ashamed. It makes her sort of sad. “Do you have time to sit?” Katara asks suddenly.

He looks surprised as he glances back at up her. “What?”

“I mean, I know you’re working, so don’t worry about it if not,” she adds in a hurry, tripping over he words. “I just thought maybe…”

“My shift’s actually over,” he answers, and suddenly, there’s a soft, sort-of-shy smile playing on his lips. “I—I could sit.”

He pulls the chair out and sits while Katara sips at her tea. It really is quite good.

“This is almost making up for the rest of my day,” she laughs, and his face scrunches up, maybe almost amused.

But then, the expression morphs. “Why was your day so bad, Katara?”

She’s surprised to find he ever knew her name, let alone remembers it now. He really is full of surprises.

She could tell him the simple version, the actual events without the why she was taking it so hard, without divulging what it was really about… but, well…

He seems sincere enough in asking, at any rate.

“I just… I lost my mother when I was really young,” she begins to explain, feeling sort of choked-up and tight in her chest again, but no tears threaten to fall right now.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, and she looks up to meet his gaze, swimming with undeniable sympathy. “That’s something we have in common.”

She looks at him for a long moment, surprised. This is something they share, then. Something they can understand about each other. “I’m sorry, too. It’s awful. And… today is the anniversary. I usually just try to keep busy, but…”

“But everything went wrong?”

Katara hums.

“That’s the fucking worst,” he says bluntly, and Katara laughs then. He has very little tact, it seems, but also, yeah. It is. And it’s nice for someone to be able to… just say it. To feel it with her.

“It is the fucking worst,” she agrees. “But… I really am doing better now.”

“I’m glad,” he says, but he frowns, staring down at his hands, which are splayed on the table. “I really shouldn’t keep you from your day."

“I mean… the rest of my plans for the day have sort of fallen apart, and I should probably wait out the rain anyway, so I might, uh,” she says, feeling suddenly shy and hesitant. “I might stick around for a while. Get one more of these,” she nods down to her cup, warm and solid in her hands. “You know.” She takes another sip.

His smile glints, but it’s soft, too, definitely as shy as she feels. “I could do with a cup.”

Katara’s own smile grows wider.

The kindly older man who runs the shop—Zuko's uncle, Katara learns quickly—brings them out another round of jasmine, two cups this time, and Zuko slowly raises his in a cheers motions motion, a little awkward and a lot funny.

“To awful days?” he says with a raise of his brow.

“And to perfect storms,” she adds in agreement, laughter bubbling in her chest.

They clink their teacups together.

#zutaramonth2024 #zutara #zutara month #my fic #me internally: idk how i feel about writing a modern au i don't feel like i can get into their headspaces the right way #also me: writes almost 2000 words about it #atla #zuko #katara #trigger: grief.#trigger: nightmares.#trigger: murder.#jic #trigger: ableism.

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emsgwenstan · 4 months

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Holding on to our family

{Larissa Weems x fem niece reader.}

Words: 2k

Warnings: flashbacks, angst, hurt.

Note/summary: after Larissa’s death, y/n heads back to nevermore to tie some loose end or attempt to anyway.

2 miles to Jericho. That’s it. You know how far the township is from the airport like the back of your hand, but for the first time you wish you didn’t because then the sickening feeling wouldn’t be so prominent. You remember the first time you traveled to Vermont from London, you were 14 and she happily greeted you at the station in Burlington.

The sun was unwelcomly shining and casting rays through the branches, she loved the sun, the shadows whipping over the car from the ungodly speed you were doing. “Auntie lissa I’m scared.” You said. “Just go slow sweetheart, I’ll tell you when to change gears.” She smiled. “Ok, oh my- don’t you get scared passing other cars!” You shrieked. “You will be fine just concentrate on your side of the road. I promise you will be ok.” She said. And you believed her. If only she could see you now.

Passing by the Jericho sign you slowed down to take the turn off for nevermore’s drive way. ‘12 minutes’, you thought opting not to speed trying to drag it out for as long as you can. Once the iron gates came into view, your heart paced quicker. The nostalgia filled your senses as you recall how your nevermore days were the best of your life, you had friends, you did well in school, you had the privilege of having a single dorm with your own space and privacy and it was all thanks to her.

Larissa was the one who helped you on your darkest days, lightest and every other one in between, it started from the day you were born, your mother was absent and you father was always busy with his company and running off with his abundance of secretaries. She is- well was your fathers sister, your aunt consequently, but you forgot that most of the time, she was more like both the parents you needed in one, every holiday she would come back to the uk and visit, doing everything she possibly could, like teaching you to drive.

Putting the car in park in the lot that displays ‘reserved for principle L.W.’ You stepped out, the whole 6 feet of you, plus the extra inches from the heels you had on, straightened your blazer, did up the button then smoothed out your signature Weems, platinum blonde hair. The cobblestone clacking the whole trek, as expected once you rounded the corner many eyes set on your figure, students and teachers all going quiet and whispering to each other. Some you still remember.

Not stopping until you climbed the stairs to her office you made it on top of the mezzanine, your eyes flicked to her hanging portrait on one of the far walls. Pacing to the painting you admired it for a moment before you slid it aside to retrieve the spare key. For the first time in two years you stepped through the threshold of her office, it felt weird, wrong, the fire wasn’t alight, her laptop wasn’t resting on top of her desk, but everything else remained in exact place as the last time you saw it.

You walked around the desk to sit in her chair, just like you had many times before. “Here my sweet, sit here, it will be easier to do your homework.” She’d say. “Thanks lissa, you’re not leaving though?” You asked. “No, I am done for the day, but I’ll be right here on the lounge reading for a bit.” She said coming to stand behind your place in her chair, she pressed a kiss to the top of your head and walked over to lay down with her heels removed and legs slung over the edge of the couch. How you missed her.

As you sat tears started to well in your eyes, you discarded your sunglasses tossing them onto the table and rubbed at your eyes. Just then the door rang with a gentle knock. “Y/n?” A small voice asked as the door cracked open. Lifting your head from your hand a small smile graced your face. “Enid, hi.” You said standing, walking over to her with open arms. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come up here.” She said coming into your embrace. “Yeah well I had to some time.” You said. “I missed you.” She huffed into your chest. “I missed you to little lycan.” You said pulling back with wet eyes and a sniff. “Heeyyy, I love the hair.” You said groggily playing with the pink and blue tips. “Thanks.” She said sadly.

A moment went by when she spoke again. “I miss her too.” She said looking around the room. “Yeah.” You mumbled. A noise emanated through the door, you looked at Enid quizzically. “Um that’s Wednesday.” She said spinning on the spot and going to open the door, the girl really was like a storm cloud, literally black and white, just like how Larissa had explained. “Hello Wednesday.” You greeted. She peered at you unblinking until she looked you up and down. You extended a hand for her to shake and hesitantly she did so. “Y/n Weems, I’m Larissa’s niece.” You explained. “She told me a lot about you… don’t worry I don’t bite.” You said looking at Enid. “Well biting isn’t really a worry for you I suppose is it.” You said trying to ease the awkwardness. The look on Enid’s face was priceless, completely red. Wednesday on the other hand her scowl dropped immediately. “Hey that’s what happens when your added to this one’s close friends story on instagram.” You said giggling.

“You look like her.” Wednesday spoke, most likely her way of a shot at a compliment. “Thanks.” You said. “Ok wens we should go now.” Enid said dragging Wednesday behind her. “Horrified to meet you Wednesday.” You said, she peered over her shoulder and smirked, that gave you hope in possibly being on her good side. The door closes behind them and you paced to the middle of the room. ‘Guess I should consolidate with the staff.’ You thought with a sigh. “You will be fine, I know you don’t like talking to people but I’ll be right there the whole time, just waiting in the car.” She said. “I’m so nervous.” You expressed fixing your necklace in the mirror. “I know but you will feel so happy and relieved when you’re done.” She said standing behind you giving a squeeze to your shoulders. “What if they say they don’t want me as an employee?” You asked. “They would be silly not to consider you.” She said guiding you towards the door. In the end you got your first job at the mayor’s office as the receptionist, all thanks to the encouragement of her.

A while later finally finished meeting and greeting a few of the staff to let them know you will be staying for the week, all of them looked at you sympathetically as if they felt sorry for you, but you knew even when Larissa didn’t express it, that not one of them knew her or even cared enough try take some of the schools stress off her. You saw how it would take a toll, how tired she would be but never gave up and she never gave up on you. “Try again.” She nodded. You shifted for the second time and became the spitting image of your father. “Oh dear-.” She laughed, you cackled at the situation. “Out of everyone to pick.” She continued to laugh. “Ok your turn auntie lissa.” Your 15 year old self said shifting back to yourself and perching on her bed.

You hadn’t bothered to go backdown to the car and bring up your bags yet, when you return into the office you go straight to her quarters door. That damn door, how a piece of wood can be so imposing is beyond you, although once the door is unlocked and the hinges creak open you may never walk back out. You slid the key into the hole and twisted until it unlocked, you lent up against the architrave and observed the room, again everything in its place. Pacing inside you went and flopped on her bed, toeing off your heels and kicking them off the mattress, you snatched one of her pillows and hold it to yourself curling your legs up towards your stomach.

For the next hour you laid in the same position hugging onto the pillow like a life line, her sent still remaining. Pachouli, bergamot, vanilla and almost the faint smell of English breakfast tea. You scrolled through the photos in your phone’s gallery, seeing the ones from when you were born and an early twenties Larissa holding you, looking down at you as if her whole world just lit up. The timeline continued on all the way up to your early graduation from college, with Larissa holding onto your waist and you with an arm slung around her shoulders. You turn off your phone and break down sobbing into the pillow.

———

Two days have passed and all you had done is go through Larissa’s photos, clothes, trinkets and make up. You would take one piece of jewellery and wear it during the day just to feel a little bit closer to her, then when night came you would place it back in the exact spot you had taken it from. Nothing was boxed or packed, you couldn’t find it within you to place her things in a crammed space and send them home, this is what she has to show for her life and packing it away didn’t feel like an option.

Over the next two days you hung out with Wednesday and Enid, taking them into town, going to the weathervane, or just for a drive. You never really noticed how much you missed nevermore until now, unless perhaps it wasn’t the school that you truly missed, the memories are bittersweet, only now do they feel tarnished and painful, nevertheless it’s nice to know that you have a home a true home that comes with a chosen family, on the outings with the girls you were mistaken for being Enid’s older sister, to which you’d correct, though the mistake can be made since she’s 16 and you 23, only 7 years apart.

Returning back to school grounds you opted for a walk down to the lake, it felt like just yesterday you had won the Poe cup, having Larissa cheer you on from the side lines. You remember that even before you celebrated with your team you ran straight to her and embraced her with a joyful scream. It was nearing dawn and you decided to go back to your- her room, where you could use sleep as a procrastination.

“Larissa I’m an adult I can do anything I want!” You yelled. “Yes daring I know that but-.” She began. “No! Stop trying to keep me here, I want to go and experience things myself, I will not be rooted in one place like you, I actually need a life!” You exclaimed. Larissa straightened up and cleared her face of hurt emotions, turning into a stern look. “Fine.” She said. Your stomach churned. How disappointed she is. However you stuck it out and left, but before you could reach the door Larissa stopped you and wrapped her arms around your neck and breathed an I love you, one you didn’t return.

You sat up straight in bed gasping as the memory fades from your eyes, you look around to see the dimly lit room still and quiet through watery vision. “I’m sorry.” You whispered into the room. “I’m so so sorry… I love you too, I love you so much.” You said with your voice breaking and your throat sore. It displayed 3:02am on the clock resting on the bedside, you dragged yourself up and out of the tangled sheets to make a tea for yourself wrapping a blanket over your shoulders and back to keep warm.

With the beverage in hand you sat on the floor leaning against the end of the bed in front of the fire place, you were exhausted, the loop of the memory on repeat making every run through more painful. It was true the whole thing was real, you had been irrationally irritable that day, when you visited Larissa to tell her you were thinking of travelling alone across the world, the worst part was that Larissa was the one who actually encouraged you to travel and explore but to be careful and safe and yet you threw her support and generosity and care back in her face as if she were a monster.

It only took 2 weeks until you were back in contact with one another, Larissa was relieved to know you were ok and you were relieved she forgave you as well as listened to every ‘I’m sorry’ you had to offer. Turns out going back to London to pack and prepare without her wasn’t fun or adventurous at all, if you were to do something, anything, you wanted to share the experience with her, because Larissa wasn’t just your aunt, no, she was practically your mother, roll model and your best friend. That was the last time you visibly saw her, two whole years ago, you would do anything to go back and wrap yourself around her frame and never let her go.

With the tea finished and cup discarded, you went back to bed in hopes of a restful sleep, but of course you weren’t that lucky. The next morning you felt tired and drained in every way, you spent the day walking the grounds, visiting Ophelia hall to see Wednesday and Enid, and finally ending the day with sitting on the floor of Larissa’s walk in closet to flip through the box she kept her year book, newspaper clippings and sentimental things, but it wasn’t just hers it was your things to, the nevermore newspaper from 6 years ago when you had been early excepted into a prestigious university, the hair clips she would put in your hair every time she came to visit when you were little, Polaroids from over the years and dated notes from significant days in the past.

“Y/n, are you ok sweetheart?” She asked looking up at you from her arm chair in the corner of her room. “Yeah…” you said quietly, looking down. “I wanna tell you something.” You murmured. Larissa slotted the bookmark in between the pages of her book and gave you her undivided attention, you pulled out a piece of paper and gave it to her to unfold. “I can’t say it.” You said pacing about the room. You could hear her unfolding the paper and the silence that followed, but a giggle interrupted the raging thoughts in your mind. “Oh darling… that’s ok, that’s wonderful, you shouldn’t be afraid to tell me such a thing. Come here.” She said, you turned and walked to her with your head down, as you sat lightly on her lap snuggled into her chest and tightly wrapped arms, she spoke again. “I love you no matter who or what you love, if you’re interested in girls or boys, vampires or werewolves I don’t mind……. can I tell you a secret?” She asked. “Yeah.” Larissa inhaled and slowly exhaled before she whispered in your ear. “Really?!” You said sitting upright. “Mhmm.” She smiled. “Oh, I was wondering why you didn’t like that nice man we spoke to at the grocery store the other day.” You said, in response Larissa laughed.

11/5/2019- y/n came out to me!

You traced her cursive handwriting at the bottom of the note you handed to her that day with a smile and placed it back in the box as well as putting the lid back on. Standing back up and turning the light off, you had a strange feeling that something wasn’t right, but ignored it. You grabbed the blanket from the bed and threw it over yourself going towards the office to turn off the lamps and stoke the fire before a knock on the door was heard. Walking over to it you opened the door to be met with one of the staff holding a few papers.

“Evening y/n, these were dropped off this afternoon, I thought I should bring them to you… sorry it’s late and I interrupted.” She said holding out the stack. “No it’s ok Melanie, I appreciate that thank you.” You said taking papers. “You have a relaxing night.” She said turning on her heels to leave. “You too.” You said closing the door. Wonderful, just what you wanted, letters with principal applicants, schedules of new school developments, an obituary form and a mediocre memorial service for Larissa. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You said. Somehow you internally corrected yourself with the word ‘language’ as if you could hear the statement about to come from her.

Another knock, you rolled your eyes. “Come in.” Nothing but a stretch of silence. “Melanie, if you forgot to tell me something you can come in.” You said walking back to the door. Nothing could have prepared you for what lye behind it, you opened the door and the wind was knocked from you lungs. No. This isn’t real. “Wow, I’m going insane.” You said peering into those bright cerulean eyes, dropping the blanket from your shoulders. When her hand extended to cup your cheek, almost immediately tears ran down your cheeks. “You’re not real.” You breathe. She stepped closer to run her other hand over your hair. You could feel her. You could see her. You could smell her.

You stood still as if you could blink to hard and she’d be gone. “Hello my darling girl.” She said with a smile. As brief as it may be and as much as you didn’t want to you rubbed your eyes knowing she will be gone in a moment trying to flea from this torment…and yet her grip stayed prominent, her smell still lingers and her form remained. You were in pure shock, you brought your shaking hands to her face to trace at it just to be sure. She was there, she was here, she was home and she was finally back exactly where she’s supposed to be, with you.

“I have a lot to explain, but firstly��” she began. “I love you.”

@sabraaabra

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principle weems #larissa weems x y/n #wednesday #larissa x reader #larissa weems x reader

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thebunnybabyblog · 18 days

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"Tear you apart" 18+ Snape x reader

This is just pure smut so be warned! No one under the age of 18 should venture any further! Run away now you are not welcomed to read this please go play roblox or something :)

Age is not told in this but reader is 18+, Snape is whatever age your headcanon prefers. This is a female oriented one shot so specific terms will be said here that apply to that! Also don't even say a thing about her nickname this is soooo not a shamless insert for myself, def not 👀

the song "tear you apart" by she wants revenge is what inspired me to write this. please listen bc god it makes my head go brrrrrrrrr when i listen to it lol with that please enjoy and tell me what you thought! lots of love! 💕

Potions had always been your best subject. There was just something about the skill and craftsmanship that made you feel so compelled to learn as much as you could. It was like art and science all in one. The precision and dedication that it took to make something with so much value to the wizarding world was vastly impressive to you, but what really sealed the deal was the man that had taught you all that you knew.

Severus Snape was a god to you. The poised mysterious genius who seemed to be able to look death right in his eyes and laugh in annoyance. The way he just glided around school with so much power and command sent shivers down your spine. Always wanting to be in his good graces and never a means of annoyance like most students. You wouldn’t call yourself a know it all teacher's pet who would tattle acting as the school yard spy but truly as an admirer and helping hand.

You made it clear that you admired, appreciated and respected him and his immense wealth of knowledge. It’s not like you didn’t respect all of your professor's knowledge because you really did but he was just different? Part of it was how bad you felt from the vast amount of disrespect he received. Of course you understood that kids are difficult to look past tone and attitude but if you did your work and listened when he spoke and spoke only kind words to him, he was kind to you.

Over the 7 years at Hogwarts you grew a pretty decent relationship with him. Of course it wasn’t like you skipped down the hall hand-in-hand but he had gained a level of trust and mutual respect for you. To the point he had offered you to be an assistant of sorts to him, nothing major but since you had expressed after graduation you wanted to work at being a professional potioneer and owning your own shop one day, he let you come two to three days a week and help him with different tasks. It would always be a surprise that day on what you were doing. It could be organizing and taking stock of the store room, observing and taking notes of class projects of lower grades that were brewing (as some potions could take days or weeks to brew) or even grading first to third year assignments. All the while you'd be free to ask questions and just chat really.

You had really cherished these meetings but your social group really never understood why you were even wanting to be there. For them it seemed like a punishment.

“You had to organize the storeroom?!? What did you do wrong to have to do that??” They’d exclaim in shock and then be in total disbelief when you said,

“It wasn't a punishment, it was actually quite fun! He showed me some rare ingredients that you can only get on a full moon on the tallest mountain in the Himalayas every 6 1/2 years!”

None of it ever seemed like a chore; it was an honor. This man, with such great skill, had taken you even the tiniest bit under his wing. I guess people just couldn’t understand how such a bright and bubbly person would want to spend time in a dark gloomy dungeon with the dungeon bat himself. But you knew he was just misunderstood and it didn’t help that you found him to be the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on.

To you he was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. His tall looming body, dark midnight eyes that looked straight to your core, chiseled features that seemed to be carved out of the most precious white marble. He was more than just looks, he was powerful, knowledgeable and what people didn’t seem to see but he was quite funny and gentle. The way he treated his work as if he was Michelangelo diligently and painstakingly painting the Sistine Chapel ceiling upside down on his back. He was just brilliant to be around and absorbing even a speck of him was a gift.

You couldn’t lie to yourself though, you were down bad. The type of bad that made you find yourself absentmindedly drifting off to space only to come back down to earth and see you had doodled all over your notes with little drawings of hearts with SS in them and sketches of his striking features or kicking your feet and going red when he pops into your mind while in class because he said something that just rolled off his tongue in just the right way that made you fantasize scenarios in your head.

A crush was truly an understatement at this point. If he asked you to be his pet you would be at his feet curled up in an instant. Never making it too apparent though as to never show him any type of actions that would threaten your ability to continue this precious opportunity to learn and just be around him, or so you thought.

Friday was your easy day and your most favorite day of the week. You only had one class and that was of course advanced potions at the end of the day and a day where you always stayed after to help out. Today was especially good because it was a day when everything just went well. Snape had shown the class how to brew amortentia, the most powerful love potion. Not only was it an exciting lecture and potion to brew but it got your head to brew all sorts of things as well.

“Gods I wish I could give him a drink of mine! I’d do anything for him to feel even a slight bit like me, the way I do for him!” You thought into the void of your mind. You couldn’t help to doodle while you waited for the last few minutes of the class to count down, not like you were leaving but just waiting for your afternoon Friday treat to roll around. Your little delusions were helped by the fact he had actually praised your work when he was making his way around the classroom before the class was over.

“Very good work Miss [last name], excellent pearl color and the smell is just right. You will make a fine potion master one day” he said in a smooth silky voice. You were lost in every word that rolled off his sharp tongue. It felt as if you had drank this entire cauldron, gulping it down like a man who was stranded in the desert who finally found water.

“Thank you sir!” You squeaked out, kicking your feet enthusiastically underneath your table. If only people could understand how good his praises felt, the chokehold they held on her heart.

“Alright class it seems our time is up, most of you really need to pay more attention when I’m up here teaching… this is a powerful potion that needs to be respected and I saw many glaring mistakes that certainly should have been avoided… I will expect a report on my desk about the history of amortentia by Monday morning sharp. If I didn’t tear your potion to shreds in my walkthrough you are excluded.” The class filled with annoyed groans and frustrated sighs and a few looks were shot your way since they knew the “dungeon bunny” (your unofficial nickname your friend would poke fun at you with) was exempted once again. It wasn’t your fault you enjoyed potions, that's what Hogwarts was for, to find your passions and excel and it did help when you were in love.

The class cleaned up their areas and one-by-one filed out of the room looking a bit defeated by the sudden addition of weekend homework but you stayed behind ready for whatever task he was willing to give you today.

“Great lecture as always professor!” You said looking up to him with a soft smile.

“Thank you Miss. [last name], it’s a shame not everyone is as devoted to potions as you and I.” he replied back to you in a smooth tone. For him to put you and him into the same category made your heart thump in your chest. His praises made your hair stand on end as if caught in an electrical storm. A blush was surely visible on your face when your brain was able to comprehend his kind words.

“Oh! I am nothing compared to your dedication, you are a god compared to me!” You spouted back not even thinking, making you blush harder.

“Oh. My. Gods. I did not just say that, what a loser, I must seem like such a fangirl. He's your professor, not an idol.” You barked in your head, now thoroughly embarrassed. Pulling yourself out of your thoughts when you heard a soft chuckle escape from his throat.

“I guess I should take my place up in the heavens then” he said as he made his way back around to his desk “today if you can, I would appreciate a walk through of the storeroom and make a list of anything that is running low. Will that be something you can help take off my plate today?” He asked in a way that sounded like silk.

“Of course professor you don’t even need to ask!” Gods you were pathetic and you knew it but you didn’t care an ounce. It felt so good to be of service, to do anything he asked of you. You were his devoted little bunny and hopped when he said hop. You’d never admit it to your friends but you loved being called his dungeon bunny because gods it really was so fitting for how you felt. And if it meant spending ages looking through every tiny vial in that room you would do it on your hands and knees to be around him.

Making your way into the room you began to look through the endless rows of ingredients. You knew this was going to take a long time but it was worth it. You had been working for only about 15 minutes when you felt a cold rush of air against your back behind you, not thinking much of it, only that it was just a draft, you didn’t even turn to look. It wasn’t until you heard the door click shut behind you locking you in the small room.

“Umm professor, did you close the door?” You said still bent over looking at vials in the cabinet below you before turning around.

“Yes” he replied

You jumped at the sound of him right behind you. He glides and somehow makes no noise when he walks, some people think he casts a charm on his shoes to keep them silent. You spin around and are now in very close proximity to him. Your breath is stuck in your throat and you push yourself up against the shelf. The vials behind you raddle as your back hits the wood. You look up to his looming figure and he looks down at you with his sparkling black eyes and his equally raven black hair falling around his face.

“I’m quite sorry, did I frighten you?” He says with a sly smile.

“Oh umm no hehe of course not.” You say with your eyes closed with an embarrassed smile slapped across your face.

“Oh good I would be awfully sad to scare off my little dungeon bunny.” His words slapped you across your face.

You look up to him in shock, eyes wide and heart pounding out of your chest, “d… dungeon bunny?!? How does he know about the nickname my friends call me?” You think in a panic.

“You scream it quite loud in your head all the time. It’s not hard to miss.” He replies to your thought. As if your eyes weren’t wide enough they were bigger now, you now understood he had the ability to use legilimency. The thought of every embarrassing little thing you have thought about him over the last 7 years bounced around in your mind. You were in utter shambles over how embarrassing you had been without your knowledge. Especially since you never were shy to let your daydreams run amok in the dirtiest ways you could think of.

“You enjoy being my bouncing little bunny don’t you?” He questioned as if he was a predator circling and taunting its prey.

“I….. I umm… I-“ was all that you were able to stutter out. A deep chuckle rumbled up through his chest and you felt his cool breath on your face as he loomed over your shanking frame. You couldn’t help to smell the smooth smell of spearmint and honey on his breath sending your head spinning.

“Does cat have your tongue, little bunny? Usually you have so much to say up here.” He said as he tapped a finger melodically against your temple. You felt your knees wobbling under you and you couldn’t help to just look up at him like a deer caught in headlights as you white knuckled the counter behind you.

“You're usually such a good girl and speak when spoken to”, grabbing your chin and squeezing your cheeks with his long slender fingers. “Now I will only repeat myself once more,” his tone stern and filled with authority. “I said you enjoy being my little. Bouncing. Bunny. Don’t you y/n?”

“Y… yes” you shyly mustered out.

“Yes what?” He commanded as he squeezed harder

“Yes sir!” You practically shouted, trembling in his grasp.

“See that wasn’t hard was it?” Leaning down to be eye level with you all the while still holding on to you tight.

“N… no sir.” You couldn’t help but feel like putty in his grasp. You wanted to be devoured, like you said before, if he said hop you would hop and you meant it.

“You know even if I couldn’t hear your detailed perversions every time you laid eyes on me you are quite obvious and oblivious to your surroundings.” He released your face and leaned in close to your ear. His hair tickled your skin as it cascaded over your cheek.

“Your little love doodles are very cute, you think I don’t notice them as I walk around the room? You’re lucky I don’t punish you for being off task so frequently but you are always such a good girl I can’t bring myself to punish you.”

You were overheating with your skin flushed pink, you felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of your forehead.

“Hmmm It is getting pretty hot in here, why don’t you take off your coat?” He hummed, pulling back from your ear. His fingers found their way under your lapels and slid your jacket off your shoulders onto the floor.

“T..thank you.” Not even sure why you were thanking him but it felt so good too.

“Such a polite girl, seems like someone needs a treat.” Taking your chin back into his grasp, he leaned down and planted a soft kiss onto your lips. Still in utter shock and disbelief from what was happening you just looked at him wide eyed but in an instant you shut them and sunk your weight into his hand. You grabbed onto the side of his robe for support and let out a moan that shocked you both. You could feel him smile against you and his left hand sneak to your waist and pulled you close into him.

Your eyes shot open when you felt him hard against your stomach taken aback by just how large he felt under all of those dark clothes. “Gods his cock is huge!” You couldn’t help but scream in pure lust loud in your head, immediately looking up to him in terror as you might as well have just said that out loud. Somehow his eyes grew darker than they naturally were and you knew it was game over. He was about to devour you whole.

You looked away fast in utter embarrassment but his hand snaked its way through your hair and pulled your face back to his and whispered once more into your ear, “I want to fucking tear you apart.” He said, so sharp it pierced through your body like flying arrows across the battlefield. Before you knew it the hand in your hair pulled you to the ground and you were on your knees faced with the serpent trapped behind his wool trousers.

“Now be the good little bunny you are and set your God free” he said as the hair he had in his fist fell free from his grasp.

Filled with nerves, your trembling fingers slowly reached up and skated across the black wool, hesitating for a moment once they touched the cool metal buckle of his belt. You looked up as if making sure it really was alright. He returned your wordless question with a light smile of reassurance. You slowly slid the leather belt out of the metal and grasped the button that was behind it and slipped it through the hole and pulled the zipper down. He sprung free from his prison and slapped his stomach with a snap.

You gulped hard, this was the first time you had ever seen a man in this way. You had seen one once before when a Gryffindor boy got a little too drunk at a party and thought it would be a good idea to whip it out as a laugh but it was nothing like this. Snape's cock was powerful and hot with desire, just as dominating as the man it was attached to. You could feel the slickness building between your legs as you looked up to him practically drunk.

“You look so beautiful down on your knees for me I wish you could see just how beautiful you look, all flushed and doe eyed looking up at me.” His words poured over you like honey. You craved his praise and you’d do anything he wanted to get it.

“Thank you professor! I… I’d do anything for you!” You cried out to him bouncing on your knees. You were passed the embarrassment, hell the embarrassment was fueling you. You didn’t care what you looked like, you just wanted to do whatever he wanted, that's all you’ve ever wanted to do for him.

“Oh I know I’ve heard you so many times lost in thought wondering how I looked under my robes,” his hand began to work the many buttons of his coat and he slipped it off onto the floor with yours. His white linen shirt flowed free around him as he worked up that as well. Soon his torso was bare and you eyed the pale skin that hid under it. You could see his scars that scattered around his smooth form and wondered how they felt.

He reached down, holding out a hand to yours. With a slight hesitation you placed them in his and he placed your hands on his stomach. Your fingers began to wonder, exploding the milky smooth skin you had dreamed about. A soft moan escaped him as your warm touch moved around his cold body. You couldn’t help but look up at him in amazement.

“Gods you’re just so pretty.” He said looking down at you with hooded eyes. You just couldn’t take it any more. You needed to touch his cock that had been staring you in the face far too long. You moved your hands down past his belly button following his little happy trail down to the base. Looking up to him one last time for permission, he nodded a gentle yes.

Grabbing the base, he was rock solid in your grasp. A huff escaped him and he slightly pumped into your hand. This sent your body into overdrive losing all sense of your humanity; you were just his slave to his desire. You worked your hand up and down his shaft not even able to touch your fingertips together as you pumped him slowly.

He reached out a hand and placed it on the top of your head and looped some hair around his fingers and pulled your face close to him. He smelt a mix of smoky body wash and sweat. He filled your nose with his scent and it made your eyes roll in the back of your head as you sniffed him in.

“Open that pretty little mouth of yours I can’t take this anymore.” He growled in pure need. Without hesitation you opened yourself for him and his tip was past your threshold before you had time to process. The precum that had began to gather on his tip spread across your tongue as he snaked himself into you. You couldn’t help but moan as your senses were attacked with him.

“Fuck your sweet little mouth feels better than I could have imagined.” He spit out. Your arms wrapped themselves around his thick thighs for support as he filled your mouth with his needy cock.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve waited for this moment. Fuck…. Take my cock. Just like that, you're such a good bunny for me.” You practically cried out in pleasure to the praise and the vibration only sent him into a craze. He began to frantically assault your throat, making you gag around him. The room filled with the sounds of your complete surrender to the man that now laid claim in your throat.

Tears filled your eyes and fell over your flushed cheeks, he reached a hand down and his fingers moved gently over them wiping away at your tear stained face. He pulled them to his mouth and took a long lick of his fingers, humming as he did so. You were practically crossed eyed looking up at him.

He pumped himself in you a few more times and released your mouth with a loud pop. You coughed out desperately for air but were sad that he had released your throat.

“As much as I’d love to cum down that pretty throat of yours it would be such a waste to put it there our first time.” “First time?” You thought. That implied this wasn’t going to be some one time event that you would think about over and over for the rest of your life on a loop.

“Oh you sweet little thing. You think I’d let you get away from me that easily? I’ve waited so long fighting with myself for a very long time. There is no way I’m letting you escape me.” His voice deep and raspy you trembled below him. Grabbing the collar of your shirt he pulled you back to your feet and placed his hands firmly around your waist and lifted you to sit upon the counter. You were practically face to face now, though he still had a bit of height on you even at this level.

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip and he pulled you back into a deep kiss. You found your arms sneaking in under his shirt and wrapping around his back pulling him close in. This kiss was pure sex and filled with fire. He pressed his body between your legs and his cock rubbed hard against your cotton panties. You could help but moan into his mouth with the sudden sensation shocking your wet core.

His right hand left your face and he made the journey down between your thighs. The feeling of his fingertips brushing against your soaking wet pussy made you jump. He pulled away from the kiss and now looked you in your eyes the way you asked his consent with yours earlier. You couldn’t help but look away for a moment embarrassed but you quickly moved your gaze back to him and nodded with the most precious lust filled face.

Before you knew it his slender fingers were hooked into your panties and he slid them all the way down in one large motion. The air was chilled against the sopping wet mess you had under your skirt. He slipped your panties into his back pocket.

“You're never getting those back by the way” he chuckled out. “Now since it’s only fair I think it’s time we take this tight little top off?” He backed away and looked at you. It only took you a moment to understand he wanted to watch you do this part.

Your shaking hands made their way up to the top button and began to slowly slip them out. He hummed in anticipation as you revealed yourself and the pretty baby pink bra you had hidden underneath your shirt. The shirt joined the pile of accumulating clothes on the stone floor below you. His hands reached up and began to wonder around your plush supple skin. His touch made your skin send goosebumps over your body. You let out soft whimpers as his nail softly scraped along your bra's edge.

“Please” you moaned out

“Oh she speaks? Please what my dear?” He says against your neck.

“Please sir, I can’t take it please just touch me!” With your desperate cries he sunk his teeth into your neck kissing and sucking soon to be deep red hickies into your skin. You cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain as he sneaked his hands behind you and made your bra fall to the floor where it belonged. Your breasts were exposed to him and the air and the mix of that made your nipples rock solid. His large hands began to knead into them with vigor and equal desperation. He easily found your nipple with his mouth and sucked and nipped. His deep moans filled the air and mixed with your high pitched squeals.

As his mouth sent attacks to your left breast and his left hand tweaked your right, his free hand found its way to your soaked pussy. It’s like he knew exactly how to curl his fingers around your clit to send shocks through your body. Your hips rolled desperately against his hand to feel him as much as you could.

“If only you could see how desperate and needy you are right now. Humping your dripping little cunt against me. Does your god feel good against your pretty pussy? Hmmm?” His words cut through you like a knife. All you could do is crumble under him in pleas and desperation.

“P…please please please, I need you, please fill me up I can’t take it anymore.” Tears filling your eyes again.

“Well if you beg me so nicely how could I say no to that?” With no warning his cock was pressed against your slit and plunged deep inside you. You cried out in pain as he was still against you.

“Shhh I’m right here I won’t move until you’re ready ok?” He said in between kissing away even more tears on your cheeks.

You were a mess under him but this was the only place in the entire world you wanted to be. For seven years you dreamed about him and wanting him so desperately to fill you up and here you were getting exactly that. You clutched onto his back sending your nails deep into his flesh. He couldn’t help but move forward slightly into you from the sensation. You let out a moan and tightened around him that made him moan into your neck.

“Please move” you breathed out. You didn’t have to ask him twice; his hips moved with a sudden urgency that even shocked him. As if on autopilot he moved in a primal need into your center and filled the room with sounds of him slapping against you. His hands gripped your waist hard, unbeknownst to you both, would leave behind bruises the next day.

His pace was slow at first but over time with the growing moans that escaped your mouth he began to move faster and more erratic.

“Fuck your pussy feels so good around me. Your cunt is sucking me in so eagerly.” He said through gritted teeth. His words made you clench harder around him. “Tell me how does my big cock feel inside you?”

“Hmgmmhh-“ is all your mouth manages to get out between his powerful thrusts. He grabbed the hair in the back of your head, snapping you back to look him deep in his eyes. “What did I tell you about speaking when spoken too? Don’t make me have to punish you when you’ve been so good for me.” He growled down at you.

“You feel so good! Y..you make me feel so full, I’ve n..never felt like this down there before.”

He paused and looked at you, you whined at the sudden stop. “Is this the first time you’ve had someone inside you?” He asked in disbelief. You panicked afraid that he would want to stop with your lack of experience.

“I’m sorry! Is that a problem? I don’t want to disappoint you!” You said, shaken. His eyes widened and immediately placed your face in his hands.

“Oh gods no! I’m just shocked someone as breathtakingly beautiful as you hadn’t had a line of boys trying to take you to bed with them.” A soft smile looked down on you and you nuzzled yourself into his touch.

“I have always just waited in hope that ummm it would be you.” You said looking away.

You could feel him throb in you as that escaped your lips. Without warning his hips snapped in you at a frantic pace once more.

“What a sexy little nymph you are. I am going to truly lose my mind.” He grunted as he pumped you deeper and deeper with each passing thrust. His fingers slipped down and found their way to your clit once again. Your moans filled his ears like prayers. Begging for a release that you were desperately in need of.

“Please sir I-I’m so close.” Your face found its way to his shoulder as you cried out.

“D-does my pretty bunny want to cum for me? Have you been a good girl? Should I allow you to cum all over my big cock?” He asked into your hair.

“God please, please let me cum! I’m begging you please!” You screamed out.

“Fuck, cum on my cock while I fill you deep with mine!” He shouted back at you. He plowed into you at dangerous speeds, hitting your cervix with every lightning crack of his hips. Circling faster around your clit with his thumb. You could feel yourself on the edge so close to your sweet release. With one final snap of his hips you lost all control coming undone around his throbbing cock. Squirting all around him unaware you were even able to do that.

When he felt you release around him that’s all he needed, “Fuck fuck fuck take my cum, fuck!”and shot load after load of his hot cum deep into your pussy. Grunting like an animal as he reached his glorious climax that he has dreamed of for so long.

You both stayed in this wrapped position for what seemed like an eternity panting and gasping for air. When you both found your breath he planted sweet gentle kisses all over you. You giggled with each one he bestowed upon you.

“Gods I’m going to keep you locked down here forever.” He said between kisses.

“You’d have to pull me out of here to get me to leave.” You replied back and planted a gentle kiss on his swollen lips.

“Well that would never happen,” he said looking over you sweetly.“Now let’s get you in my chambers so we can get you right in the bath because you are one dirty bunny.”

“Yeah your dirty little bunny.” You giggled into his ear and with that you were whisked out of the store room and through his chamber door off for more of your wildest dreams to play out before you.

#severus snape #fanfic #pro snape #snape smut #smut #student teacher #god kink?#first time #snape x y/n #snape x you #snape x reader #i lit was kicking my feet giggling making this stoopid thing #i love it tho

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lilacthebooklover · 7 months

Text

NPMD Incorrect Quotes

Grace: And then they ran into my knife. They ran into my knife ten times. Steph: You mean you stabbed them? Grace: They ran into my knife.

Ruth: Are pigeons drones? Richie: What? No, I'm trying to sleep. Ruth: Think about it. How come you've never seen a baby pigeon? And why do you never actually see a pigeon nest? Because they're DRONES! Richie: *Crying* Please let me sleep...

Steph: Ow! Pete: What’s wrong? Steph: I have this weird pain right above my eyebrow. Pete: It’s called a stress headache. I got my first one when I was four.

Richie: I have a question. Pete: Shoot. Richie: Is the S or C in scent silent? Pete: I’m going to be thinking about this all day. Steph: Okay well, cent is pronounced the same way as scent so I’m gonna say the S is silent. Richie: Okay, but sent is also spelled the same way. Pete: Google says that the C was added in the late seventeenth century, so I guess the S is silent. Ruth: Plot twist, both the S and the C are silent and the E actually makes the sss sound. Pete: Ruth is not allowed to talk anymore.

Max: You know, there’s only one person in this world who can tell you what you are. Richie: Me? Max: No. Max: Me.

Ruth: I desire moisture. Pete: Please just say "I want water" like a normal person.

Steph: You know, when I first met you, I really didn’t like you. Grace, after a moment: …I thought there was going to be another half to that sentence? Steph: Nope!

Ruth: I'm an empath. When I'm around hot gay people, I start having gay thoughts.

Grace: Don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing. Everything is going to be fine! Pete: How can you still say that? Grace: Because sometimes, when things get tough, denial is all we have.

Steph: Pete, I got suspended from school… Pete: WHAT?!?! What did you do? Steph: My teacher pointed at me with a ruler, and he said “there is an idiot at the end of this ruler”. Pete: And…? Steph: I asked which end… Pete, unable to contain his laughter: Okay, you just made my day.

Kyle: Can I have some water? Max: *starts chugging his water bottle* Max: *chokes from drinking too fast* Max: *spills water all over himself* Max, coughing: I don't have any water.

Richie: A mosquito tried to bite me and I slapped it and killed it. Richie: And I started thinking. Richie: Like, it was just trying to get food. Richie: What if I went to the fridge and it just slammed the door shut and snapped my neck? Ruth: Are you ok?

Pete: Where’s Grace? Steph: Doing stuff. Pete: I don’t like the sound of that. Where’s Richie? Steph: Trying to stop Grace from doing the stuff. Pete: And Max? Steph: Trying to stop Richie from stopping Grace from doing the stuff. Pete: I see. And what are you doing here, Steph? Steph: I’m supposed to stop you from stopping Max from stopping Richie from stopping Grace from doing the stuff.

Ruth: Help! I’m drowning! Pete: Calm down. We’re only in six feet of water! Ruth: NOT ALL OF US ARE TALL!

Grace: Woah dude, premarital handholding? That’s just not cool or groovy.

Max on Monday: *glues a dime to the sidewalk* Heh heh heh. Max on Wednesday: *walking down the street* Ooh hey! A dime!

*Everyone is playing a board game together* Grace: I will put 'A' down to make 'A'. Richie: I will add onto your 'A' to make 'AT'. Steph: I will add onto your 'AT' to make 'RAT'. Pete: I will add onto your 'RAT' to make 'BIOSTRATAGRAPHIC'. Ruth: *flips the board*

Max: When Grace was born, the gods said, "She's too perfect for this world." Steph: Please. When she was born, the devil said, "Oh, competition."

Ruth: I wouldn’t put it in those words exactly. Pete: Why not? Ruth: Because I don't know what they mean.

Mayor Lauter: Well Stephanie, I have to say, I'm really disappointed. Steph: Well, you didn't HAVE to say it. You could've just thought it.

Max: I’m proud to say I’ve come over my fear of ghosts! Jason: Eyy, that’s the spirit! Max: *gasps* whErE???!!!??

Ruth: Make no mistake. Not only am I party rocking, but I am also in the house tonight. Richie: But are you shuffling? Ruth: Every day. Grace: What language are you two speaking??

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lilislegacy · 1 month

Note

Positive Percabeth imagines :))) (though ngl this is mostly about their daughters but still)

I imagine that Percy and Annabeth will have twin daughters, and they’ll choose names based off their loved ones. One daughter is named Zoe Elizabeth, after Zoe the Hunter, and Rachel Elizabeth Dare. The second daughter is named Natalie Grace, after Annabeth’s aunt Natalie (and also bc as einherjars Magnus and Alex will never be able to have kids so it’s also for Magnus’ sake) and Grace bc it’s the last name of both Thalia and Jason obviously but it’s a way to honor Jason especially. Natalie Grace is nicknamed Tali, pronounced Tah-lee, and I’ve always pronounced Thalia as Tah-lee-uh, so that way they’re honoring her too. Zoe has dark brown hair and grey-blue eyes, and Tali has dirty blonde hair and blue-green eyes.

Percy and Annabeth lived in New Rome for several years after finishing college, and they both helped create sacred temples and statues and groves and places for all the gods, as Percy started, Jason expanded, and Apollo basically vowed to complete. Annabeth of course did most of the brainstorming and research and building stuff, but Percy was actually the one who would ask various gods and be like “okay Nereus. These are some ideas we have to honor you. Can you tell me which you like best?” And then that god would send him a dream giving varying amounts of detail and instruction as to what exactly they wanted. So the twins, Zoe and Tali, were raised in New Rome for their first several years.

Meanwhile at Camp Half-Blood, they have expanded to have cabins for legacies, and they also started an academy, called Olympus Heights Academy. As more demigods were claimed and now legacies too, it made sense to start a school. When Tali and Zoe are eight, their parents decide to move back to Camp Half-Blood and become teachers. Annabeth predictably tries to teach too many classes at first but eventually settles on just teaching a couple classes, probably Ancient Greek history and language bc we know she taught Percy and also close combat with a knife. Percy teaches swords fighting obviously.

Tali and Zoe are at this point beginning to learn their abilities. Both of them can breathe underwater. Zoe can control water, ocean water most easily but with some degree of control over fresh water. She is an expert in close combat fighting. She is skilled in strategy and has an affinity for the arts. She is a natural sailor. Natalie can communicate with horses and their cousins. She has siren powers, similar to charmspeak, but water based and music/voice linked. She is an expert at swords fighting. She is skilled in craftsmanship and strategy and has an affinity for academics. She is a natural sailor.

You noticed the siren powers? I headcanon that Sally is a third generation legacy of Venus, and Percy didn’t really get anything from Venus except good looks, extra ability to learn Latin, and extra meddling in his love life, but Tali did. I saw someone make a post about, what if daughters of Poseidon could sometimes get siren like abilities? I loved that idea, and had to include that in one of the twins. Normally a second generation legacy of Poseidon wouldn’t ever have siren abilities, but bc of the distant relation to Venus, Tali did get that ability.

The twins will of course go on their own death defying quests and adventures. Percy and Annabeth will happily be living in Camp Half-Blood, visiting Sally and the rest of the Jackson-Blofis family as much as they can.

Oh I also have another funny idea. I actually woke up one morning earlier this week daydreaming about it. Percy and Annabeth, after college, are trying to plan their wedding. But they keep getting into fights about small random things. And this is so out of character for them. Eventually Annabeth realizes that this is Hera meddling and at first she’s furious but eventually tries to reason with Hera. Hera eventually gives specific instructions on something that she wants to be created at Camp Half-Blood to honor her. I’m not entirely sure what it is yet, but whatever it is, it’s gonna be nearly impossible to create. But Annabeth has to do it if she wants to get married to Percy. So she struggles for months with this building project, finally it’s nearly done. Then Hera says that she will allow them to marry, but they have to be married nearby whatever it is that Annabeth had to create, and their marriage will be dedicated to Hera and will act as the way to consecrate the sacred building thing to Hera. So now Chiron has to allow demigods to get married at Camp Half-Blood, allow the queen of the gods to officiate it, and he can’t keep their mortal family from the wedding! So now there are mortals in Camp Half-Blood. But it all goes well, but now a tradition has begun of campers wanting to get married by Hera’s sacred thing, and now Chiron has to deal with weddings and mortal families and he’s seriously annoyed at Hera but he can’t show it bc she’s the queen of the gods.

Hope you like these headcanons!!! :)))

~wolfyboi

thanks for the ask wolfyboi!

awww, these are all so fun and cute! i love thinking about their future and their kids! it just being me so much joy. they deserve to be happy more than anyone. i do hate hera so the thought of them having to dedicate their marriage to her makes me a little queasy, but the idea of chiron having to deal with a ton of people getting married at the camp made me giggle

this put a smile on my face. thank you!! ❤️❤️

#i love you guys #pjo #answered

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

Note

Hey headmage! You know that one question all teachers will get in their life...

Tell us about your first love!

*eager looking eyes*

I wrote this one in a somewhat vague manner aka it's to throw a bone at the "Crowley is Malleus's dad" theorists out there www; it's up to the reader to interpret it as they please; it isn’t meant to refer to one specific character.

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

Crowley regarded you with a careful, uncharacteristically patient look—as if picking apart your soul and the fine layers that sheathed it. You were an open book, so wide-eyed and eager to learn of young, blossoming love.

“Feeling daring today, are we?” he chuckled lowly. “What naughty students I have, sticking their noses where they don't belong."

Crowley swung one leg over the other, crossing them as he reclined into his armchair. "As it happens, I am feeling more generous than usual today, so I will humor your request."

Your ears perked. You arched over his desk, primed to listen intently.

"Once upon a time, in a land far, far away... I found myself at a grand palace hosting a ball. Where, you may ask? I cannot say. However, it is only natural for important people in high places, such as myself, to be invited to these sorts of functions.

“Often it is political matters and power struggles at play—dull subjects to children, I'm sure. I happened to take an interest in the cuisine they were serving that evening, and so I made an appearance."

Crowley paused dramatically.

"Little did I know, that was where I would happen upon... Well, surely you understand who I am referring to?"

“Your first love?” you squeaked.

“I noticed them immediately. Call it ‘love at first sight’ if you wish.

“Their presence was far too powerful to be contained within that room. It was a quiet kind of strength, like the roiling of thunder before a storm arrives in full. Oh, but it wasn’t just their aura alone. No, no, they also boasted great beauty, grace, and intelligence!! And yet…”

“And yet…?”

“They were alone.” Crowley spoke the word quietly, as though it were cursed. “… I suppose it happens. People who stand too high in the world are lonely there, frightening off those unworthy to be in their presence. I understood, of course, being in a similar position myself, so I sought to offer my kind hand to console them. It is in my nature as an educator to serve as a bridge between people."

“You made the first move,” you gasped, your cheeks warming. Scandalous.

“I paraded right up and introduced myself! And—can you believe this—they gave me the cold shoulder, then attempted to scare me and shoo me off!! But I certainly didn’t quit. I fetched them punch, I sang them sweet serenades, I cracked jokes of the highest caliber… all so that they would look my way, even to spare a passing glance.”

“So you were a simp.” Somehow, it fit perfectly with your current understanding of Crowley.

He bristled at the casual accusation. "I wouldn't say that--"

"Definitely a simp," you repeated.

"Y-You may think whatever you like, but the fact is that my efforts eventually bore fruit!!" Crowley declared proudly, his chest puffed out. "They gazed at me and remarked that I was ' a strange one'!"

"That doesn't exactly sound like a compliment..."

"Perhaps not," he laughed lightly, "but it was that one comment that served as my foot in the door. Before long, we were chatting like old friends. They smiled--because of me. For me."

His voice warbled, wobbling with sentiment as the painted the scene. You could almost see it now: Crowley, tall, dark, handsome--but bumbling--courting a frigid noble. Breaking their barrier, melting that ice.

Like something out of a fairy tale, you think. A distant royal falling in love with their messenger bird.

"We laughed and talked all evening. We shared food and a dance. We never wanted the clock to strike midnight."

Crowley sighed wistfully, dragging a talon across his desk—as if marking another year apart from his beloved. "They truly were… the apple of my eye, my flower of evil."

"Did they return your feelings, headmaster?" you asked, leaning closer. Completely enraptured by his tale. “Whatever happened to them, anyway…?"

“Ah, now that,” Crowley tutted, wagging a finger, “is a story I shall keep to myself.”

“W-Wait," you protested, slapping a hand on the desk, "you’re really going to leave me off on a cliffhanger like this?! You were just getting to the juiciest part!"

“I believe I’ve already divulged far more than the average student needs to know of a teacher's love life," the headmaster replied. "You may use your imagination to fill in the rest of the gaps! It shouldn't be a challenge, seeing as you are quite familiar with my charm, fufufu."

"Does that mean you did get together after all? Were you actually married this whole time and we never knew? Do you have kids?!" you pressed. Each question became increasingly conspiratorial--but you were 100% serious, 100% committed to the bid.

"I'm afraid not, Prefect! You must make do with what you currently have."

"What I have isn’t enough," you groaned deeply. "Urgh, PLEASE answer me, headmaster...! I need to know, or I'll combust!"

#twisted wonderland #twst #Dire Crowley #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Reader #self insert #Two Ravens at the Writing Desk

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thesharktanksdriver · 1 year

Text

Magical Girl in Gotham (Platonic)

Part 1 Part 2 part 4

Sorry for the repeating lines of there are any, it’s tumblrs fault

Tag list: @harpy-space

Mention in the comment if u wanna be tagged for the next part :]

You drift between the world of conscious and unconscious, the Dream world and the waking world

For once you felt yourself dream, seeing the images of all those who had filled your once lonely life with joy

At point in your life you forgot to just sleep, to finally rest and not to worry for the next day

You were always so preoccupied with getting rid of a new batch of Shadowmites the next night or school or rent that sleep felt more like a chore

Wasted hours to be doing something important despite how Rigel told you it was unhealthy to avoid it

So for now you sleep and you enjoy it as you occasionally sense the distant feeling of someone sitting at your side

When you eventually do wake up your met with the sensation of warm blankets (compared to your thin ones) and a hand pressed against your forehead

When your eyes flutter open you see the sight of Jason, surprise in his face as you look up at him

You can’t get a word out before he’s hugging you tightly, mumbling “Jesus don’t ducking scare me like that. Thank whatever god there is that your ok”

He stays that way for a minute and you soak it up, noticing how he was wearing the uniform of red hood but without the mask

It doesn’t really surprise you but it now makes sense as to why you had a vague sense of familiarity when meeting him

That also answered who the rest of the bat crew was

When he pulls back he sees your stare down towards the large red bat symbol on his chest. “I had the feeling you rich people were crazy, but not crazy enough to be vigilantes to be honest. Seems like those online forums were right about you guys not being normal” whatever worry fades away at that comment

His laugh is loud and seems to echo out into the hallway through the opened door, footsteps quickly make their way towards the room

Damien bursts in, an unfamiliar teary look in his normally composed eyes

Jason has barely any time to pull a few feet away before his younger brother is repeating what he had done earlier

Damien’s gripping you as if he was afraid that when he pulled away you’d suddenly disappear

You hug your friend back, noticing the rest of the family peak in and be somewhat agast at the sight

Turns out you have a lot of explaining to do and so do they

Bruce/Batman himself is honestly disappointed in himself that you’d been doing this for years yet he had not even fucking know about it up till now

Even more so that Jason and Dick knew and didn’t tell him that an actual child is running around at night killing mystical creatures

He actually apologies to you personally that he should’ve noticed, but you quickly shoot that down telling him that was kinda what you didn’t want

Like him you set out on this mission to do it practically alone, you never intended to make friends along the way but somehow you did

He now knows why he saw himself in your eyes, you were him when he started off. Someone who was blinded by their goal of protecting others that they did not care for themself

He asks again if your parents know and now you answer honestly

You didn’t have any. You lived alone in a crappy apartment and barely got rent in on time

You see the looks given by all of his sons, how it goes from you to their dad and then back to themselves

After finding this out Bruce probably teaches you some more self defence since you only taught yourself through experience

He’s a good teacher, finding out what your strong suits are and helping you improve rapidly

Your style of fighting is a lot like dancing. Fluid motions and carefully placed steps, turns and pirouettes to dodge, quick attacks that happen within the blink of an eye

Your not like Jason or dick who can take large hits and can brute force their way though things. Your more agile and graceful

Bruce at some point helps make a schedule for you to properly balance your nightly duties and going to school

It’s much better than your own lol

Kinda feels better that most of the villains in this city absolutely love you and would protect you but also kinda worried cause they would literally kill for you

The only villains he actually trusts you with is the Gotham sirens and maybe Waylon on a good day

You’ve cause him to get so many extra grey hairs after hearing what you eat on a daily basis

How do you the energy to run around Gotham every night while surviving on cup noodles?!??

One time y’all appeared at a McDonald’s it was all over Twitter in the matter of minutes cause you have a cute magical girl and then Batman looming beside them as you asked for a nugget meal and ice cream for him

Sometimes he’ll be beating a villain and you’ll briefly stop by and everything is out on pause as you say hi to both

Honestly it’s the funniest thing for bystanders to see especially when you say hi to John or Tim the goon

Your Twitter famous and you don’t even have Twitter

Clark is texting Bruce why “Batman”, “magical girl” and “McDonald’s” is trending on Twitter

Damien is kinda upset at first before realizing that would kinda be hypocritical and now he has more of an excuse to spend time with you

Two besties just chilling on a rooftop of Gotham while Riddler sulks in the background

He definitely gets protective over you even though you can handle a lot of stuff on your own

It’s mostly out of the fear of losing you. You serve as a symbol to him, a sign that his life has changed for the better and he’s truly happy

At first he doesn’t like his brothers hanging around you but comes to accept it. He was just kinda scared you’d like them over him and forget him

Has a constant glare and only you can decipher his actual emotions

Your his translator for poor Gordon. Like Damien says something mildly insulting and then your like “he means to say he likes your tie and you did a good job out there. Keep it up 👍 “

Your his impulse control from threatening people and breaking bones

He probably pressures Tim into making you a com

At some point he tells you about his grandfather and mom. That turns out be a interesting conversation especially when learning there’s just a magical life giving pool somewhere under Gotham

He’s such a little shit to people who make comments about your outfit

He’s tearing down their entire self esteem

God help the poor soul who decides cat calling or making weird comments about you cause it’s on sight for him

Bruce had to hold both him and Jason back from “having a polite talk” with the guy. Bruce does allow glaring and yelling though

Y’all probably become a duo that Gotham Twitter freaks out over

Like, people be now using you two as “bestie goals” and you do a double take when someone mentions it at school

When you once took him over to your apartment he visibly does a double take and asks how you live like this

Brags to his brothers all the time about how he’s your best friend so he’s the favourite (he is)

Ra’s Al Ghul is more confused than Clark when he gets reports his grandson suddenly is seen with that “magic girl?” He’s also gotten reports about and the two of you are building the Lego bonsai set on a rooftop

You got him into Lego and he now has his entire room full of them and boobytrapped

Dick has unfortunately been a victim to this

Jason almost kneeled over and died again out of worry when he had brought you half dead back to the manor

So it’s safe to say he’s very realized your ok and now also basically under the protection of the rest of the family

He may still have some grudges against Bruce but he does admit that he can teach you better than he could in most places

But what Bruce can’t teach you is how to shoot!

Yeah so…he had you use your magic weapon and turn it into a gun form and has you practice with him

Most villains audibly sigh in relief when seeing the two of you together cause that means their chances of a bullet lodged in their side or spine being crushed is better

Takes you on his motorcycle and it’s super fun

He gets you your own personalized helmet even though you can technically make one via magic

Y’all quote so much shit from books that Tim has begun to catalog it

Scary dog privileges number 3

Sometimes while on duty he’ll stop by at a few cute looking stores and buy you stuff he thinks you’ll like

You don’t tell him you have more than enough pens as he gifts you one with a cute topper

He swears to god if that fucking clown even breaths near you he’s dead and there’s nothing Bruce will do to be able to stop him

Damien would cheer on in the background if that happened

He kinda helps Damien realize and process that it’s ok for you to have other friends and that they won’t be stealing you away nor will you replace him

Both have a lot of emotional baggage and who better to help unpack that than him

Takes a lot of convincing to do so first

Loves the what we do in the shadows tv show and WILL make you watch it with him cause no one else will…along with rue Paul’s drag race

They say red hood now has a handmade bracket

Dick is so joking about how he and Jason knew you first to Damien and Bruce

100% tries to convince you to have your costume to match his for at least a night , if you do so he’ll be supper giddy and get soooo many picture

Your half convinced he has a scrapbook somewhere from how many photos you’ve seen him snap of Radom moments

He sometimes mentions Barbra Gordon and it’s giving you vibes

Keeps showing up while your trying to have a peaceful dinner at the iceberg lounge, penguin shoo’s him away calling him a pesky bird

He always replies back that “but your the bird here aren’t you?, in the wing-” And almost gets shot every single time

He seems kinda embarrassed when people joke about his dump-truck, whatever that meant. You just assume he fell into one or something and don’t get the actual meaning

By god he tries to keep your innocence in tact. There are so many creeps in Gotham and he does his best to protect you from them

There have been situations he’s covered your ears and sent out death glares that can make some of the worst villains shiver in fear

Might’ve let Jason break a guys arm once cause he kept making gross comments. Never told Bruce about it but kinda knows he’d get a slap on the wrist

Audibly makes a gasp when you use a cartwheel in a battle and has a proud big brother moment while clasping a hand over his heart

While your hunting for shadowmites he occasionally drops by to give you something like a smoothie for energy

Loves talking with you about the juiciest hero drama he’s heard within the week

Your not sure how he learns all of what he heard but he was a way

Will watch whatever show or movie you want no matter what age range it was intended for. Like he will watch pretty cute or sailor moon and get super invested to the point he’s buying merch for both of you

He now has a sailor Venus keychain and a matching sailor moon one for you

Definitely has mock fake lightsaber battles with your magical weapon and his batons

He always lets you win but you don’t need to know that

When this happens he also does the full 9 yards to make his “death” as dramatic as possible

Piggyback rides galore with This guy cause he finds it fun and uses it as some sort of weight training

Speaking of which you and Damian have sat on his back while he does pushups. You and Damien made the logo millennium falcon set

Brice walked in and then walked right back out

That happens more than most would assume

When he has video game tournaments with Jason and Tim, he gets you and Damien to be the referees

What he doesn’t know is that Damien is kinda bias to whoever didn’t annoy him that day

Meaning Dick is kinda on a loosing streak as of late compared to either brothers

Has already begun placing photos of you and the family on the wall

Alfred did a double take when he first saw it but then just smiled and went on with his business

Both you and him help Alfred with cooking

Sometimes he goes to really crappy stores and buys all the cheap bootleg hero figurines

Once they make one of you he’s gonna beg you to make your uniform match it for a night

Dear god he has so many nicknames that some villains are now gonna start mocking him by using them with you

He looked really upset when two face called you one of them and then laughed at how his face scrunched up

Tim buys you a proper phone so he can now text you at midnight lol

Even sets up a Twitter account for your hero persona and its now followed by most villains within the city lol

People now joke that at this point your gonna reform most of them before Batman can

Speaking of jokes he sends you memes constantly. Lien you’ll wake up with at least 2 unread messages from him that are just memes he found

He thinks the funniest are the cursed pictures of his family with shit like “bottom text” or “Sœp”

He’s kinda that guy you can go to talk to about anything cause he will 100% know it even if it’s the most obscure piece of media ever

In his spare time he watches those 5 hour long essay videos for fun as background noise

Please watch documentaries with him, doesn’t matter if their lighthearted or serious cause he just wants someone to watch with him

Speaking of which, if you do this with him he builds the most elaborate pillow forts known to man

Please encourage him to at least get 6 hours of sleep a night,the bags under his eyes are already bad enough

Won’t object if your ask to paint his nails or style his hair. He probably finds it somewhat relaxing especially if you talk to him about something while doing it

He rambled a lot about whatever he’s fixated on at the time, you don’t have to respond but just show him your listening and he’ll feel really happy

Totally brags about getting the feeling you were more than what you seemed lol

He sometimes secretly uses the bat computer to watch Netflix or Crunchyroll and play horror games. He says it adds ambiance to the experience

You walked in while he was playing phasmophobia and he screamed

He once used axe body spray and no one will let him live it down, he has his head in his hands as Jason recounts the story

Everyone dreads April fools cause of him and he’s recounted to you his various escapades

Your favourite is when he programmed the Batmobile’s honk into playing “Barbie girl”

He plays video games with you constantly. Doesn’t matter what game you wanna play cause he will find it

On patrol he’ll text you to see how your doing and if you need either him or anyone else to stop by

Else tells you to stay hydrated despite the fact he’s being a hypocrite

He patrols Twitter somehow while being a vigilante and gives people the ban hammer if he finds them being creepy

There is no mercy from him and they’ll have their account temporarily banned or in some cases deleted

He acts all innocent about it as well

Alfred is honestly just happy your ok and now have their support during your night duties

Like he knows your on good terms with most villains but it still gives him an extra layer of comfort that you know you can rely on them for help

Like mentioned before he already planning your room out before Bruce even signs those papers. He finds out what style of room you’d like, interests, favourite colour and goes to town on that interior design

He still packs you lunches but now he has added more foods that give more energy and protein

Whenever you try to help him out with anything other than some cooking and giving Bruce his tea/time coffee he will deny it

You have enough stress as it is you will not put more on your shoulders

Bakes a lot of fresh sweets with even fresher berries from his and Damien’s secret garden

Whenever you don’t go to Harley’s for getting wounds patched up he does it for you

At this point he’s probably more qualified than 50% if Gotham doctors with the amount of fatal injuries he’s stopped

When Bruce gets kinda worried that you hang out with like 50% of the villains in the city he reminds Bruce of Selina and Talia

That shuts Bruce up real fast

Sometimes at night you catch him doing grocery runs, you help him carry bags back to his car

He sometimes talks about his family, growing up and watching as things rapidly advanced from that of his childhood

It’s pretty interesting, especially considering the batcave is filled with super tech that would go for millions

Once again your half convinced he’s some sort of immortal/god in human form with the amount of patience he has

Along with the fact he somehow balances cleaning an entire mansion and batcave

How he does this no one knows

God help anyone who gets on his bad side cause he’s pulling out the umbrella to teach them proper manners

Example, the guy who thought it would be a good idea to heckle you about wearing a skirt

That man is scared to walk the night knowing he’s still out there

Eventually one night as you made your last rounds across the city and said hi to Waylon along with drop by the iceberg Lounge you end up back in the batcave

It’s peaceful as usual, even as you go up to Bruce who has his mask pulled off with a soft smile

He holds out a paper, pen in his other hand that he offers to you

You nod with a smile and take it, signing your name down on it

Gotham is definitely in a stir when everyone wakes up to the news that Bruce Wayne had adopted a new child

Bruce got at least 1 individual call from each justice league member

#platonic #damien wayne x reader #dc x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #magical girl y/n #Batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #time drake x reader #Alfred pennyworth x reader

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ladykailitha · 1 year

Text

Can Anybody See Me? Part 10

Hey...you know how I said I had another fic I was working on that I planned on putting up the first part for today? Yeah...that didn’t work out. It needed a lot of heavy editing and because this got finished today with only minor edits, you get this instead.

Also...I realized that until this part...I never mentioned the name of the musical they’re doing. Ooops!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

To say Steve was nervous as hell would be an understatement. He had been in drama less than a month and now he was standing on the stage watching people mill around. And there was a lot of people. People who were taking measurements for costumes. Makeup and wigs people. Apparently kids from orchestra and band were going to be playing the music in the ‘pit’. Then there were people working on sets and up in the rafters checking the lights.

He had been to couple of plays on Broadway when he was younger. Of course he had. But he never knew how much went into making it look like magic when he was sitting in the audience.

A girl came up to him and squeezed his elbow.

“You’re Steve Harrington, right?” she asked.

Steve nodded, tongue tied from the sheer panic running through his body.

“I’m Janice Montgomery,” she said gently. “You’re friends with Gareth and them?”

Steve nodded again. “You must be the badass chick of the Hellfire Club.”

Janice grinned. “Oh good, you have heard of me.”

“A middle schooler I babysit for’s younger sister looves D&D so I try to talk you up as much as possible to piss her brother off,” he explained with a grin.

She laughed out loud. “Thanks. But I understand that this is your first time doing a play?”

“Acting in front of other people full stop,” Steve said, nodding.

Her eyes went wide and she tilted her head forward. “Please tell me you at least did the school play in elementary about the benefits of healthy eating.”

Steve scratched his face nervously. “Uh...that would be a no.”

“Fuck.”

Steve hung his head. “I really shouldn’t be here.”

She shoved his arm. “Miss Lucy isn’t the type of teacher to play favorites. Thomson isn’t a large role with a lot of blocking. Mostly standing in front of everyone else reading and being annoyed.”

Steve laughed. “I could do that, yeah.”

“See? You’ll do fine. You’ll dance for the major numbers, and then that heart-wrenching scene at the end.”

“Yeah, I auditioned with that scene, because it has both the singing and the acting in it.”

“Wow,” Janice said. “That’s impressive.”

Steve blushed. “Another middle schooler I babysit is in the drama club and asked him for pointers.”

“Well at least you know how to strategize,” she said. “Marty and I will help walk you through it. If have any questions come to either of us, okay?”

He nodded. “Thanks for this.”

The spot light lit them up and they both squealed from the sudden brightness.

Janice held up her hand over her eyes and screamed, “Eddie!”

Steve heard him cackle before the brightness was severely toned down. And then Eddie dropped down in front of them, landing deftly on the stage.

“Mr Munson!” Miss Lucy called out. “I appreciate your grace as much as the next person, but one day you will break straight through this old stage and the school will not replace it.”

“Harsh, Miss Lucy!” he called back.

She chuckled darkly and went back to her notes.

“That was cool,” Steve murmured.

Eddie grinned. “She is right about the stage though. I don’t think they’ve redone it since it was put in god knows how long ago.”

Steve smiled.

Janice raised an eyebrow and then cleared her throat.

Eddie turned to her. “Congrats on getting Abby, Miss Montgomery.”

“I just can’t believe Tammy Thompson got Martha Jefferson,” Janice complained.

“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of hearing her,” Steve said.

“You’ll hear her a lot,” Eddie said. “She has a song in the second act.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”

Eddie and Janice just stared at him.

“Or not...”

They burst out laughing.

“Hey, guys!” Marty said jogging up to them.

Everyone returned greetings of their own.

“So...I found out how Tammy got the part...” he said with a grimace.

“Oh no...” Eddie said. “This can’t be good.”

“Her mom is a seamstress and has offered to make all the costumes for free as well rent the wigs for a low price.”

Janice stamped her foot angrily. “With an offer like that I’m surprised she didn’t gun for my role.”

Steve looked between them confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Have you not seen 1776?” Marty asked.

Eddie and Janice turned to him and stared at him as though he had grown an extra head.

“Um...” Steve stammered, “well...I’ve been meaning to and I just haven’t got around to it, yet.” He scratched his cheek nervously.

“You mean to tell us,” Eddie said slowly, “that not only did you try out for a play you haven’t seen, you managed to get a fairly major roll for said play?”

Steve nodded, blushing a deep red.

“That’s it!” Marty cried. “You coming over to my house and we are watching it!”

Steve frowned. “How are we going to do that? I didn’t know they put plays on VHS.”

Marty clapped his shoulder. “You are in luck my friend because they did movie several years ago.”

“I guess...” Steve said shyly. “I’ll come over on one condition.”

Janice and Marty exchanged a knowing glance.

“What would that be?” Janice asked innocently.

“If Eddie comes too?” Steve bit the bottom of his lip and looked up at Eddie through his eyelashes.

Eddie blinked. “As long as it not on a Hellfire night, I’m down.”

Steve smiled softly.

“Is tonight good?” Marty asked.

Janice shook her head. “I work tonight.”

Steve shifted back and forth on his feet. “We could do it tomorrow at my place. My parents aren’t home and I have a big screen TV.”

“Sold!” Marty said.

“Yeah, man,” Eddie said rocking back on his heels. “That sounds cool.”

“I’ll bring the tape, Marty will provide drinks and Eddie the popcorn,” Janice said.

Steve looked uncomfortable. “You don’t have bring anything I’m sure I’ve plenty of stuff.”

Eddie wagged his finger at him. “Ah, ah, ah, Harrington. That’s not how movie nights work. Host merely hosts. Everyone else provides.”

Steve blushed. “Yeah, okay. Then you guys can explain the Tammy Thompson drama.”

Marty clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “It’s is sooo good.”

Steve just laughed.

“All right everyone!” Miss Lucy said. “It’s time for the read through. Mr Kincade, Mr Munson if you wouldn’t mind helping set up chairs?”

Marty and Eddie nodded. They gathered up as much seating as they could find. Those that didn’t have any lines sat in the audience around Miss Lucy, Mrs Lawson the dance teacher, and Mr Dent the choir teacher.

Steve pulled out his script and waited for his first line.

Eddie sat in the audience and Marty flopped down next to him.

“You’ve got it bad,” he said, nudging Eddie with his elbow. “He know about your proclivities toward members of your own sex?”

Eddie winced. “Tommy called me a fag often enough, but no. I don’t think he knows.”

Marty patted him on the shoulder. “You probably should tell him.”

Everyone showed up at Steve’s house around seven. Marty having picked Eddie and Janice up.

“I got some candy anyway,” Steve said as he led the way to the front room.

Marty and Eddie just shook their heads.

Janice rolled her eyes but they wisely said nothing. They all got set up and sprawled out on the couches.

Steve hit play and lost himself in the music. He laughed at the funny bits swooned when he supposed to, and got teary eyed at “Mamma, Look Sharp.”

“You clearly enjoyed that,” Marty said.

“It was good,” Steve said. “Not very historically accurate, though, right?”

Eddie grinned. “Nope. Barely even close. But it’s fun and over the top.”

“It certainly is that,” Steve chuckled.

“Okay,” Janice said rubbing her hands together manically. “Who’s hotter: Thomas Jefferson or Lyman Hall?”

Eddie tapped his finger on his lips. “Jefferson. Love the lighter hair and tall.”

Marty crowed. “Red heads are hot, but gotta give it to my man, Lyman Hall. When he slams Georgia’s vote to yay...mhmmm...that’s some good shit.”

Steve frowned. “You’re both wrong.” All heads turned to him in shock. “Charles Thomson and not just because that’s who I’m playing.”

“You think Thomson is better looking than Hall?” Marty asked, dismayed. “You can’t mean that.”

Steve shrugged. “Hall’s good looking, sure. Soft spoken, too. But there is just something about how the actor portrayed Thomson that just brought this strength that Hall didn’t have.”

Steve blushed. “Plus Jefferson is married and I don’t look at taken people. No matter how hot they are.”

Eddie leaned forward and put his fingers to his lips. “Steve, I need to you to be honest with us. We aren’t going to judge or flip out but...do you like like boys?”

Steve blinked. “I never really thought about it. I thought it was normal to talk about how attractive other dudes are. Me and Tommy did it all the time.”

Marty and Eddie shared a concerned glance.

Janice shook her head. ‘That’s not something straight boys do.”

“Then why were you asking us about who was more attractive?”

“Because we deemed you safe,” Marty said as if it was the simplest thing in the world, instead of the massive bomb it should have been. “I’m bisexual. I like both.”

“And I’m gay,” Eddie said bluntly, resting his elbows on his knees.

Steve blinked. “Oh. I’m not sure what I am, then.”

Janice put her hand his shoulder. “Hey, you don’t have to figure it out right away, Steve. I didn’t mean to make question your identity.”

“Just don’t freak out, man,” Marty said. “I don’t think I’m equipped to deal with water works.”

Steve cocked his head. “I mean, I guess. But there’s no reason to freak out about it. Yeah, I’ve used fag and queer as insults and that’s not good. Obviously. But finding out I like boys? Not as earth shattering as I thought it would be.”

“And you don’t mind us being queer?” Eddie asked.

Steve frowned. “No. And I understand your concern. But no. Of course not.”

Eddie nodded and then sat back.

“So you thought Tammy would want to be Abigail instead of Martha?” Steve asked Janice. “Because it’s the bigger role?”

Janice flopped back against the cushions. “Exactly. Abby has more lines, more songs, more stage time in general.”

Steve let out a chuckle. “Then you don’t know Tammy.”

Marty and Eddie leaned in.

“Oh, do tell,” Marty pleaded.

“She would want the ‘pretty’ role,” Steve said. “Especially if she’s basing her idea of the roles on this movie. Virginia who played Abby is gorgeous, but in an understated, has had six kids and worked her whole life kind of way.”

“But Blythe Danner is just straight up hot,” Marty said.

Steve snapped his fingers. “Exactly. Tammy is just vain enough to want the Martha role even though it’s smaller...”

“Because she’s prettier than me?” Janice asked incredulously.

Steve laughed. “I didn’t say that. I said that Tammy thought that.”

“Mine!” Janice said throwing her arms around Steve possessively.

Eddie’s stomach rolled. He looked away so he didn’t see Steve blush and shift uncomfortably under her affection. But Marty did.

“Hey, quit hogging the guy,” he teased. “There’s enough Steve for everyone.”

Eddie looked back to see Steve gently push her off of him. “I’ve got a lot people who already have claimed that title, you’re gonna hafta stand in line.”

Janice and Marty looked at each other in confusion.

Eddie pursed his lips. “It’s the kids, right?”

Steve nodded, but Marty and Janice’s looks of confusion didn’t clear.

“Stevie here babysits,” Eddie said grinning from ear to ear.

Steve laughed. “At least that’s what I call it so people don’t freak out. So until Eddie took me under his wing, most of my friends were thirteen year olds.”

“I take in lost sheep,” Eddie said. “Never took in a senior before. Or a former popular kid, it’s been quite the eye opener.”

Steve blushed and ducked his head. “I’ve never been more grateful to see a person in my life then when I looked up and saw you that day in Mr Vinke’s class.”

Eddie shoved his hair in front of his face and looked away, this time for a more pleasant reason then before.

Marty and Janice looked over Steve’s head and grinned.

Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

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