#i didn't even finish posting the first part there yet lol

[asarigg]

Character Design: Part 4

KOUJAKU, FORCE OF DESTRUCTION

Koujaku’s back tattoo is a group of peonies. The peony is considered the King/Queen of Flowers, a flower that brings fortune and represents courage, honor, beauty, virility and masculine sexuality. It suggests an attitude of defiance, daring and rebellion. So all of these attitudes are represented in his “flower garland”, his virtues.

There are also negative associations of death and curse to these flowers because of ghost stories, “Peony lantern”. The story is about a ghost that visits a man (who had recently lost his wife) at night and her servant carries a peony lantern. He’s bewitched by her but uses an amulet after the warnings of a neighbor to prevent her arrival. But his love makes him go to her grave where a peony lantern lies, and so she appears in front of him, inviting him to her home. The neighbors would find him a few days later inside the grave embracing the corpse of the woman. There’s a different version where they were originally lovers, and when the woman dies she lingers on earth due to her strong emotions.

The seed syllable “a” was chosen for Koujaku’s tattoo to remember the Vairochana Buddha, but mostly as a negator, it serves to oppose Ryuuhou’s creative force and turn him into one of destruction. Not only that, but also serves as a negation of the virtues represented in the garland.

Masculine strength and sexuality can easily become forces of destruction. When anger controls him the tattoo cancels out all of his virtues, turns them into their opposite, and makes him an extremely violent, bloodthirsty and sexually hungry monster incapable of rationalization.

HANNYA MASK

Koujaku is depicted wearing a hannya mask and looking like a demon, even more so in beta designs with the added horns. I’ve seen before people calling his berserk form oni, which is not that far away since they are both “demons” (not in the occidental sense) but I think it’s important to specify since it’s really relevant for his character. You can also see this female demon referred to as kijo, although this term seems to be more general.

The origami here are origami of turtles, of which we already talked about, and cranes, animals also related to longevity, good luck and peace. Every time you look for origami cranes, you’ll likely come across the story of Sadako Sasaki, a little girl that developed leukemia due to the radiation of the Hiroshima bomb. These birds are also associated with fidelity and a successful marriage since they mate for life. Considering there will never be someone like Aoba for him, seems pretty accurate to me.

What’s on his hands is sake, used as a ritual offering and as a symbolic “tying a friendship closer together”, also used in weddings, where the bride and the groom would take three sips from three cups of sake to seal their marriage. Not to be that guy but Koujaku and Aoba have canonically taken sake three times together.

Here’s a scan of his design and the final version, with a wild appearance, messy hair, drooling, unable to vocalize, completely opposite to the calculated and careful image that Koujaku built of himself.

Hannya masks are used in Noh theater, and each mask represents a different type of character, mood, or personality, both human and supernatural beings, including demons. The hannya mask, specifically, represents a vengeful and jealous woman. The name comes from a Sanskrit word: Prajnaparamita. It is a term that refers to the purest wisdom that leads us to enlightenment. It is a juxtaposition of a word that represents the purest form of wisdom and the creature that is the exact opposite. It is also said to come from the name of a monk who was the first person to make a hannya mask. It’s related to the Heart Sutra, “The Heart of the Perfection of Wisdom”, Prajñaparamita Hrdaya Sutra. This sutra teached about the concept of the void and the Prajna. All things are impermanent and enlightenment can be reached through wisdom. In some Noh plays the characters wearing these masks reach enlightenment and transform.

Her anger and envy have consumed this once beautiful woman, and transformed her into a demon, but she still has traces of humanity behind her. Her pointed horns, gleaming eyes, sharp fangs, combined with a look full of pure hatred and resentment are accompanied by a look of suffering around her eyes and disheveled hair, indicating an intense passionate emotion that has fallen into chaos, and is most noticeable when we observe the mask from below, as its shapes play with perspective, and therefore represents many complex feelings. It is associated with despair, torment, melancholy, agony and the broken heart of a woman.

Hannya masks can be classified by their color and states of their transformation. For example a red mask represents a woman who comes from a low social status, and women with a high social background are represented with white.

The hair color on his mask specifically is a representation of his berserk form, but if you want to stretch it, considering that his mother was just another mistress and his father the head of a Yakuza family, it could even be the mixture of both social statuses with the white skin of the mask.

We also see that the horns on the mask are quite large, so at the very least it is a chunari mask, a mid transformation state, although the hair is so messy and the features so terrifying it could even be meant to be the last stage. Each state of the mask could be related to each stage of Koujaku’s life, with the weakest being his adolescence. The namanari mask represents a woman who has succumbed but still looks very human, with much smaller horns and it is much easier for her to return to her human form than a chunari.

Chunari is the state that represents his adulthood. With the burden of his intense hatred, jealousy and everything she hides, the chunari still looks human, but it is much harder to get her to return to her human form. As if Koujaku is at the edge of his life, where he’s about to turn and never be human again. As Ryuuhou says, it is not until his adulthood that the tattoo matures and consumes him, he is just pretending, passively waiting for it to happen, but there is still hope.

The last phase, the honnari, is the strongest and most monstrous hannya, completely lost in her feelings of deep hatred, anger and jealousy. She's a demon who can never return to her human form, being Koujaku in his berserk form, irreversible, lost.

When a woman transforms into hannya, she is condemned to remain on earth as a malevolent and vengeful demon, and her soul will not be able to rest in peace. Her actions often cause her own death, and that of her loved one. It is a reminder that we must control our inner demons because otherwise we could condemn ourselves and our loved ones.

There is another detail that is not common in these masks and that is that they have added not only two more eyes under the original ones, but also an eye in the center of the forehead. The third eye, the eye of the mind, the eye associated with wisdom, with enlightenment, the door that leads to the inner realms of higher consciousness. Opening the third eye means that you have reached that enlightenment, represented in Buddha with an urna/bindu in the center of his forehead. The essence of Buddhism is about achieving enlightenment through meditation and training of wisdom.

[jazeswhbhaven]

He Can Match Your Freak | Asmodeus Selfie Spoilers

OKAY sooo FINALLY I'm posting this lol it's probably going to be like two parts maybe??? Let's see how this goes because I'm learning to not post thousands of screenshots unless it's relevant.

First. I'm skipping the prologue because most have seen it, and I'm doing a different thing with that anyway.

SOOO it's gonna be a crash course ya'll with jumping right in when MC is in his room about to get them cheeks clapped.

He wants to know more about MC because of what he's heard and well he wouldn't be wrong here. MC apparently is quite the deviant. And you can tell the writers tried to describe him as majestic and breathtaking as possible because the way MC sees him is similar to how they see Leviathan.

Until they said this mess.

G I R L WH A T

Even Asmo was like ???? But he has a sense of humor so he just laughed it off which I mean okay yes as if he would care about that phrase being weird.

But MC out here actin' up once a g a i n. lol

But also they mention his body odor keeps wafting over in MC's nose clearly yeah because not only them pheromones' but uh anyways we'll get to that part later

And MC was just like covering their nose and is like "this is dangerous" and for me ya'll?

I'd be afraid to offend him by saying he smells ripe which I'm sure he wouldn't be offended because I'm not sure what would offend him at this point in time.

So big boi puts a sigil on MC's body similar to a womb tattoo which is why he said "be surprised you aren't pregnant" but this symbol makes you into his "female" no matter the gender. He goes to say it nicely that you're his "virgin" though.

And with that, most of what's happening is that MC is feeling the effects of Asmo without him even doing much of anything just yet. The feelings of having climaxed multiple times over, hazy, losing your goddamn mind.

That sort of thing.

Baby I would have cried on the spot. What do you mean be your companion?

Yup he asked MC to not only be his one night stand but to basically be his and that he thinks he could fall in love with them.

He says that he can fall in love at first sight despite his reputation. And also he mentions MC is his third love. First was Solomon (rejected him and wouldn't tell him who it is he was in love with) and two his late wife who was a witch and it's their children/descendants who are the Unholyc that inhabit Earth.

I'mma be honest with ya'll I didn't finish Lovely Unholyc because I was mostly interested in William, there was no route for him at that time so I just kinda dipped, tried again and then dipped lol

oh btw he apparently just straight up wanted to yap about him clapping Solomon's cheeks and getting his cheeks clapped back and how many damn positions they did and I'm trying to wrap my head around what the fuck they did because at one point surely they were on the ceiling or floating mid-air, like I don't even know

But his wife who chose to live on Earth and grow old and die normally put a curse on his soul. He can love and fuck whoever he wants and should never be lonely but he can't have any more children. If he does, they die, and he dies along with the partner he made them with. (the fall of the house of usher vibes)

AND let me just say? That woman did the world a favor because he has a breeding kink. We'd have a whole universe full of little Asmo halflings running around. So either it was her being possessive or just her sparing the world of that burden then yeah thank you for that because phew.

i don't need no babies anyways

And he says the same thing like "Oh we can leave other things other than babies, like photos of us in a mess" meaning he really meant when he said he wanted to participate in the contest.

I mean he would have won so I think it's fair to give the others a chance. Lol

So things are getting hot and heavy now and he's wondering why MC is holding back. Honestly I'm like huh he did say that he turns you into a virgin and not everyone is confident when being presented with the chance of a lifetime to fuck the embodiment of lust.

But at the same time I mean...MC this is your element and you are pretty much striking out. (not to him but to me you are)

SO I complied all of these because this is important. Asmodeus is literally combining all of their philias and using them on MC and he's quite good at it. And well, why wouldn't he be?

And he even goes to strangle and lick up MCs tears?

Yeah we know what he's about.

His tongue did what now?

his tongue did what now

his tongooooooooooooo

Anyways I short circuited there because everything about him is just driving me nuts.

MC even said they were coming by him just kissing them and I'm like hold up??????

I fucking bet.

Okay ya'll picked the nastiest ass stuff for him to mention but I get it. Congrats if ya'll have things you're self conscious about during sex Asmo's your demon because he literally won't care and will still be turned on.

Ayo.

Moving on....LMAO

And uh...Asmo was licking MC's snot and spit off their face and they came again.

I'm drowning in a sensory nightmare why is he so h o t but this is nastttyyyyyy

"I can always go hard whenever I feel like fucking the opponent"

Sir what? He just be sayin' anything

But he does ask MC what do they want...and they just smack the fuck out of him so there's that. Lol

I would tell him I'd very much like that mouth on the kewchie. I don't even need anything else just his mouth. His jaw probably can go for days.

Now MC is making deduction here that Asmo is the king of lust and seduction and can pass this feeling on to others. He's dangerous this way.

Now Asmo how do you know that.

Tell me sir HOW (I think I know the answer....but I'd be hella surprised that Belphie would let him hit unless he was watching him...)

But mostly what's happening is that MC is feeling what Asmo feels basically the same spiel as the other kings except with him it's intense to the point where they are quite literally about to pass the fuck out. And Asmo ain't about to stop momentum so you better stay awake MC.

NOW YA'LL.

Bullet point times:

MC has climaxed pretty much several times and they haven't even fucked properly yet

But wait, their clothes are off and....

Bam they notice that Asmo's cock is pretty much halfway in their hole and they haven't even noticed

All he did was push himself to the hilt and MC squirted ya'll

So there's that.

But the womb tattoo is doing it's job because now the climaxes are back to back, and I'm just wondering how the hell MC is still mentally there because I'd be a babbling mess.

Yes daddy.

he makes me SICK (lovingly)

But also they mention the liquid he was feeding MC had a horrible smell and I'm just like oh fucking gawd please get rid of my sense of smell before sleeping with him because I would not make it. Why is everything having to do with him smell so much? LOL

LMAO

MC was begging for his dick and Asmo is like, baby it's already in are you okay?

I'm crying

Yeah remember those memes about people getting high and saying they were vacuuming the dishes?

I imagine that's what it's like having sex with him. One minute you're on the bed next you're in another dimension, floating, transcending, melting, legs bent in impossible shapes. Indeed I am mopping the lawn.

He even mentioned they've done it like six times already and he's just getting started.

with a face like that? phew.

Oh so he does have a good pull out game.

btw the visual for that???? GAWDDDDDDD -> look here

So let me back up a bit and mention that MC was feeling insecure that since they have been doing it for quite some time (2 days I think?) they thought he wasn't satisfied. Nah he was just savoring the moment. He could come at any time. ANd when he does? It's alot and from his horn and everything. Cum fountain.

And best part? No refractory period. He's already hard and slamming that thang back in.

Also he mentions here that there's a smell, and he's getting really worked up.

Yeah he's tearing that up. Like it's overtime ya'll.

There's purple smoke and a erotic aura in the air, he's grabbing and biting down on the back of MC's neck to claim them? Oh he's going in.

Alright here we go.

And just so ya'll know...sorry male MC players....the same line is used in ya'lls version too. No change.

This is the point where I would of preferred perhaps something else be said entirely instead. I know the majority of players are women/non-men but...I can see someone playing and getting side swept like?????

But anyways let's move on past this point

Until the room stank is an understatement.

But anyways, while MC is trying to somewhat calm down, Asmo is still trying to keep the momentum. And MC starts trying to have a normal conversation and figuring out why devil's fear him the most.

But also mentioned they wanted to shove his nasty, greasy, bodily fluid covered hair up their hole. E x c u s e the fuck outta me?

AN Y W AY S

Mc figures that the reason the devils fear him is because of this. Imagine falling for someone like this? Who is nothing but the sole reason existence of lust and temptation where you could fuck for hours and reach pleasure centers unknown and yet have that all be taken away when he leaves? There's no love? No sweet nothings? Just being used up and tossed without any direction and you're just in the dark?

welp.

But Asmo does offer MC some comfort

He tells them that he's back in Hell so he will be around more often. It won't be painful, that it's okay to start slow and that MC would wait for him when he's ready to fully accept his feelings. He could fall in love with them not that he was already in love with them. But with how he's considering him as a companion, how he's biting and claiming them, the amount of time he's spending with MC.

mind you he left Phenomenon on the floor the moment he entered the meeting room so I imagine they weren't fucking for very long at all. I imagine all of his sessions with others are "quick" and for those he really likes they last longggg like days.

Not mention he on that yandere vibes....telling MC he'd lock them up in a cage but he'll deal with it for now.

And apparently when he gives a sincere command, it must be followed. So MC basically ends up getting dressed, not whining about leaving, and all that good stuff. A true dom in that sense.

Also he mentions that when he's nearby MC will just get turned on automatically. "Your body will scream that your man is here"

why is that so hot?

So MC is back in Gehenna and this is when Asmo starts reminiscing about Solomon who predicted that he'd see MC in the future and that he would know that he feels at the moment for Solomon is not 'love'.

I wonder if Asmodeus was just helplessly losing himself for Solomon, and pepaw clocked that and was just telling him to chill on it for a bit. Although it is fucking WI L D to me that he is going to try this again with his friend's descendant..."hey I'm a friend of your grandpa...soooo yeah let's fuck and fall in love"

Sounds weird when I put that way huh? lol

Also since we're at the end I'd like to highlight some personality things about him!

He plays too much: Taking a photo of himself and MC sleeping and sending it to Satan knowing he'd storm immediately to the room

He doesn't have self doubt, he is very much full of himself but is considerate of his partner given the circumstances

He is not into aftercare, he claims that part is included during the sex, if sex is over then it's over

He doesn't shower ya'll. Like at all. But he oddly keeps his nails clean and that's about it? He seems to be obsessed with sex funk

He really likes Mammon. Like a lot. But he does that thing where he's like "Nah I want him to want me so I won't give him what he wants" lol okay

He fucks pillows, pretty much inanimate objects if he feels like it

He has a sense of humor

Romance is not absent, it's just tricky for him since all that's all his brain is "breed breed breed breed sex sex sex breed breed breed oh lets pause for a break sex sex sex kissing sex sex breeding biting"

He loves his children though. He really is a fatherly devil. He beams about his kids and this is a moment where you can catch him not being sexual

It comes to no surprise that he doesn't like the idea of sharing his favorite person but it has me think that his style of relationship is that he's monogamous but if you want to occasionally bring someone to "play" with he won't mind as long as it's discussed and he gets to fuck them too

He's got a one track mind, but it's not like he can't carry on a conversation

Now for my

T H E O R I E S

Asmo is older than all of the kings, but younger than Lucifer

I am reaching in the dark but it seems the only King he's had sex with or has watched have sex is Belphie

He's only in love with MC because he's taking a opportunity that wasn't given to him with Solomon

There's most likely a loophole to his curse that his late wife left on him but he simply chooses not to break it

If the Kings fight together along with Asmodeus, the war would be over, and if we ever get a final battle chapter it's going to be MC who is the missing "key" and the one who figures that out is Asmo because he spent so much time with Solomon

We may get a cameo from one of his children in the story

Asmodeus is possibly capable of lying and just hasn't revealed that to anyone. I say this because if he was one of the very early devils created he is the exception to the rule. So there could be some secret he knows.

BUT wow it seems that I have compiled ALL of this into one post. YAY FOR ME. Now there may be more little blurbs popping up as I remember them but for nowwwwww~ Thank you for reading, hopefully you grabbed some snacks, and ya'll are amazing. Feel free to let me know ya'lls thoughts if you haven't said already on our stinky hot devil man <3 lol

[thedemoninme141]

The Maiden Of Death PART 1.

Summary: They say opposites attract. But you? You weren’t her opposite. You were worse.

Part 1 -- Part 2-- Part 3- Part 4--Part 5

A/n: This is a new series, I actually had part 1 written like a month ago, But I didn't post it back then mainly because I won't write part 2 until I finish Her Heartbeat. I also am not really sure if you guys would like it, because its a bit dark. But I hope you do.

Pairings: Wednesday x Female reader. Warnings: Violence at the end but you guys would be satisfied by it lol.

She met you in fencing class.

As Wednesday was walking through the hallways of Nevermore, on her way to the fencing class, she couldn't help but question herself, why had she returned?

Sure, she had defeated Crackstone. Tyler was locked away, the Gates family’s legacy was ash. Yet, despite her apparent victory over the forces conspiring against Nevermore, Wednesday couldn’t shake the hollow feeling of anticlimax.

So why?

Perhaps it was the faint pull of unfinished business. The photos of a shadowy stalker she’d received at the end of her first year were an unsolved loose end, but even those now felt underwhelming. Whoever it was hadn’t made a move worth her attention in months.

Or maybe she was here because it gave her the chance to humiliate Bianca this time. That thought warmed her more than she cared to admit. Bianca had always been the most formidable opponent in fencing, her skill matched only by her infuriating arrogance. Wednesday lived for that. She would never say it aloud, but Bianca was the only opponent worth her time.

As she entered the fencing room, the chatter of students died down. The tension in the room was immediate, Wednesday didn’t need to look to know that all eyes were on her. She had always been the odd one in this class, the only one to don a fencing uniform as black as her soul while everyone wore the casual white.

But something was different today. She caught sight of a figure seated casually in one of the chairs lining the hall but the reason her eyes found this one so fast because they dressed entirely in black fencing gear, just like her. Their mask and helmet obscured any hint of identity.

For as long as she had fenced at Nevermore, she had been the only one to wear black. This was an intrusion.

Her gaze shifted to Bianca, and for the first time, Wednesday noticed blood dripping from the other girl’s left hand. It was a small, angry trickle, barely enough to warrant alarm, but the sheer fact of it was startling. Bianca never bled. Not in fencing. Her form was too precise, her reactions too swift.

“Wait, that’s not Wednesday?” Kent was the one to speak out.

The rest of the students murmured, their gazes bouncing between her and the stranger. Even the coach was a bit confused.

Wednesday’s curiosity deepened but she said nothing.

Her dark eyes flicked back to Bianca. The siren’s usual air of superiority was gone, replaced by something raw and bitter. Humiliation.

Bianca Barclay had been beaten, and beaten badly, by... whoever this was.

“Barclay,” The coach said, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “Infirmary. Now.”

Bianca huffed, her glare locked on the figure in black. If looks could kill, the stranger would have been reduced to ashes. But they remained unmoved, offering no reaction.

As Bianca passed Wednesday, she slowed, her lip curling in disdain. “Not one word,” she muttered, low enough that only Wednesday could hear.

Wednesday tilted her head, her tone as cool as ever. “Careful, Barclay. Your blood loss is showing.”

Bianca huffed but she said nothing, stalking out of the hall with as much dignity as she could muster.

Wednesday’s lips curved in the faintest of smirks. Whoever this person was, they had achieved something remarkable. The idea that someone could dismantle Bianca so thoroughly sparked a flicker of excitement deep in Wednesday’s chest, a sensation she quickly quashed.

The possibility of being bested was not one she entertained lightly, but the idea of such a challenge thrilled her in a way she couldn’t deny. It was rare to find someone who could match her ruthlessness, let alone surpass it.

Her gaze returned to the masked figure. They hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even acknowledged the chaos they’d caused. They simply sat there, busy in their own world.

She took a step forward, “Who are you?” she demanded, her voice slicing through the tension like a blade.

The figure didn’t respond. Their silence was deliberate, unyielding.

Wednesday’s lips quirked into something resembling a smile, dark, challenging, hungry. “If you’re going to steal my aesthetic, the least you can do is prove you’re worthy of it.”

A murmur swept through the room. Someone let out a low whistle, and the coach frowned, clearly torn between maintaining order and allowing the drama to unfold.

“Addams, this is not the time for theatrics,” the coach started, but Wednesday silenced her with a raised hand.

“It’s not theatrics. It’s a challenge,” she said, her dark eyes fixed on the seated figure. “Unless you’re too afraid to accept.”

For a moment, the figure remained motionless. Then, slowly, they stood. The black fencing uniform clung to their frame, and the mask’s darkened mesh remained inscrutable. They stepped onto the fencing strip—silent, measured, and deliberate and Wednesday adjusted her fencing mask.

The room collectively held its breath.

The coach sighed, knowing full well he can't stop Wednesday.

“En garde.” he yelled.

With her perfect stance and razor-sharp mind, Wednesday raised her blade. A precision tool she had used innumerable times, the weight of her foil in her hand was reassuring. The other fencer, whose mask concealed any emotion, mirrored her movements with eerie grace across from her.

“Prêts,” the coach said.

Wednesday’s focus narrowed. Her heart beat steadily. She would rule. She did it every time.

“Allez.”

The duel began. Wednesday moved first, her blade darting forward in a testing thrust. Her opponent’s response was immediate, a deflection so swift it was almost imperceptible.

Wednesday pressed forward, her footwork precise and aggressive. She lunged again, trying to draw her opponent into a mistake. But the figure in black sidestepped, their movements fluid and economical. They struck back, their blade skimming past her guard with alarming speed. Wednesday barely parried and dodged in time.

A flurry of attacks and counters. Wednesday’s strikes were measured, calculated to exploit any opening. Yet her opponent offered none. It was as if they were reading her mind, anticipating her every move.

Her frustration grew, simmering beneath her stoic exterior. She was Wednesday Addams. She did not lose.

Then it happened. In a single, breathtaking motion, her opponent disengaged, their blade whipping around her guard to land a clean hit on her shoulder.

The coach’s voice rang out. “Point. 1-0.”

The room exhaled collectively. Wednesday’s grip on her épée tightened. Her eyes narrowed behind the mask. She had underestimated them. That was a mistake she wouldn’t make again.

They reset. The coach’s whistle blew. “Allez!”

This time, Wednesday took a defensive stance, watching her opponent closely. Their movements were fast, almost inhumanly so, but there was no sound—no labored breathing, no huffs of exertion. It was as though they weren’t human at all but a ghost sent to haunt her.

Their blade darted forward in the blink of an eye. Wednesday countered, attempting to draw them into a trap. But they saw through it, disengaging and circling to her left. She pivoted, parrying a thrust aimed at her torso, but their follow-up was too quick. The tip of their blade grazed her arm.

The coach’s voice rang out again. “Point. 2-0.”

Wednesday’s jaw clenched beneath the mask. The students murmured, the shock evident in their voices. Anger flared in her chest, hot and unwelcome. She was not accustomed to being outmatched like this.

The next round began. Wednesday forced herself to focus, she studied their movements, searching for a pattern, a weakness. Their strikes were precise, but even precision had its rhythm.

Then she saw it—a slight hesitation in their retreat, a fraction of a second where their weight shifted too far back. It was enough.

When they lunged, she was ready. She sidestepped, her blade sweeping upward in a controlled arc. The tip struck their shoulder.

"Point 2-1" The coach whistled.

For the first time, her opponent faltered. It was subtle, a small hesitation as they reset, but Wednesday caught it. The way they froze for a heartbeat, their head tilting slightly as if registering the touch, was fascinating. She couldn’t see their face, but she imagined what might lie beneath the mask. Surprise? Annoyance?

She allowed herself the faintest of smirks.

But the pause was brief. The stranger reset, their stance as flawless as ever. Wednesday narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening on her foil. If they can get hit, she can win. She just needs to be patient.

The whistle sounded again, and they moved.

This time, it was a storm. The stranger’s attacks came faster, sharper, each strike more relentless than the last. Wednesday parried and countered, her heart pounding in her ears as she tried to keep up. They weren't getting tired, and Wednesday for a fact understood, this was must be because one of their powers, Was it fair? No. But it was... maybe a lit... amusing.

For every move she anticipated, they had another waiting in line.

She refused to give ground, but her endurance was waning. Sweat prickled at the back of her neck, her breaths coming faster despite her efforts to control them. And then, just as she thought she might regain the upper hand, they struck.

The tip of their foil grazed her chest with clinical precision.

“Touché! 3-1."

The class went full silent, except a few gasphs.

Wednesday staggered back a step, her breath caught in her throat. She had lost. And it wasn’t luck or a fluke. It was a deserved victory. This opponent, whoever they were, was better.

Her gaze flicked to the masked figure, who was already lowering their blade, their movements as calm and unbothered as ever. They turned without a word, stepping off the fencing mat as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

Anger bubbled beneath Wednesday’s surface, sharp and unrelenting. Not just at her opponent, but at herself. She had lost, just as Bianca had.

But unlike Bianca, she wouldn’t accept it.

“Wait,” she said, the stranger paused mid-step but didn’t turn.

“I’m not finished.”

Taking off her gloves, Wednesday ripped off her mask, letting it drop to the floor with a loud clang. Her pale face, flushed faintly from exertion “One more match,” she said, “No helmets. No gloves. First blood.”

The figure paused mid-step. Slowly, they turned back to face her. The room held its collective breath as they reached up, removing their gloves with deliberate precision. Then, they raised their hands to their helmet and pulled it off.

Wednesday froze.

A cascade of hair fell free, framing a face that froze Wednesday in place. Deep blue eyes met hers, piercing and unreadable.

A girl.

For the first time in years, Wednesday Addams felt something foreign and unfamiliar. Her mind stumbled over itself, her usual composure shattered. She didn’t move, didn’t speak. She could only stare. The sharp lines of the girl’s face, the way her eyes seemed to see straight through her.

The girl’s expression was unreadable, her silence almost oppressive. Her gaze was sharp, piercing, but there was no mockery in it, no trace of satisfaction. It was as though the outcome of their first match had been irrelevant to her.

That infuriated Wednesday more than the loss itself.

The coach hesitated before stepping back and raising his hand. His voice wavered slightly as he called out, “En garde.”

Her grip of her foil tightened as she drew her focus inward, forcing her breathing to steady. She couldn’t allow herself to think of the humiliation, This was about proving a point- to herself and to the girl who had dared to take her victory so effortlessly.

“Allez!”

The match began with a lunge from Wednesday, her blade aiming for the girl’s shoulder. It was a calculated strike, meant to gauge her opponent’s reaction. As before, the girl deflected with an unnerving ease, her blade redirecting Wednesday’s attack in a single fluid motion.

Wednesday pressed forward, her strikes coming faster, sharper, each one aimed to corner the girl into a defensive position. But her opponent was quick, impossibly quick, slipping out of reach with minimal effort.

Wednesday felt her frustration mount with each failed strike. No matter how precisely she aimed, the girl always seemed a step ahead.

Wednesday pushed harder, her movements growing more aggressive. She feinted left, aiming for the girl’s left hand, of course her attack was parried... but barely this time.

For the first time, her defense seemed less impenetrable. Wednesday seized the opening, striking with renewed vigor. But right then, Wednesday’s eyes locked on the girl’s, her heart skipping a beat. They were… haunting. Deep, unfathomable, and completely devoid of emotion.

And then, the girl did something that froze Wednesday mid-movement.

She shifted her stance; a slight adjustment to her footing, the angle of her blade. But as the girl moved, it became clear that this was something entirely different. Her grip on the foil changed, her movements adopting a fluidity that was both unfamiliar and unnerving.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. The stance was unusual, almost ceremonial in its precision. And then it clicked.

It was the stance of a katana.

The realization sent a chill down Wednesday’s spine. She had studied fencing extensively, priding herself on her knowledge of techniques from all over the world. But this was something else, something that Wednesday isn't an expert on...

The girl moved, and Wednesday barely had time to react. Her strikes came in sweeping arcs, each one faster and more unpredictable than the last. The blade seemed to dance, its movements impossible to predict.

Wednesday’s defense faltered under the onslaught. She parried desperately, her mind racing to adapt to this new style. But the girl’s attacks were relentless, her blade slipping past Wednesday’s defenses with alarming frequency.

For the first time, Wednesday felt out of her depth.

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t let this girl overwhelm her—not again. She lunged, aiming for a weak point in the girl’s defense, but her blade was deflected with a force that nearly knocked it from her hand.

The girl countered with a strike so precise, so swift, that Wednesday barely dodged in time.... or did she?

Because the girl had stopped.

It wasn’t a retreat or a hesitation. She simply froze, her blade lowering slightly as though she had no reason to continue.

Wednesday frowned, her gaze dropping to her arm. Her stomach dropped. A thin line of red traced its way down her pale skin, a tiny drop of blood beginning to bead at its edge.

First blood.

Wednesday’s foil slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor as the weight of her loss settled over her. She stared at the girl, her mind struggling to process what had just happened.

She had lost. Again.

The girl stepped back, her expression unchanged. There was no emotion in her eyes, no trace of satisfaction or smugness. It was as though the match had meant nothing to her, as though Wednesday had been just another opponent to dispatch.

Wednesday’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. The loss was infuriating, yes, but it was the girl’s indifference that stung the most. She didn’t care. She hadn’t even been challenged.

The girl bent to retrieve her helmet and gloves. She turned without a word, walking toward the exit as though the match had never happened.

Wednesday watched her go, her emotions a tangled mess of anger, humiliation, and something she couldn’t quite name. She had been defeated before by Bianca, but not like this. Not by someone who had reduced her to irrelevance with so ease.

Her reverie was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned to see Bianca, her left hand freshly bandaged. Bianca stopped a few feet away, crossing her arms over her chest as if she wasn’t sure how to start.

“Now you get it?” Bianca muttered, crossing her arms.

Wednesday raised an eyebrow, “Get what?”

Bianca exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Why I lost.”

Wednesday remained silent, waiting for Bianca to elaborate.

“When she showed up in the black gear, I thought it was you.” She raised her bandaged hand, her irritation palpable. “So, naturally, I challenged her. Gloves off. I wanted to prove a point to you..."

“And yet here you are,” Wednesday noted, “Unproven.”

Bianca’s jaw tightened, but she pushed past the jab. “She’s not like anyone else. The way she fights? It’s... unsettling.” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “She doesn’t fence. Not really. She reads you, adapts, and then it’s like she’s a step ahead of you the whole time. You can’t even throw her off. I tried."

“And failed.” Wednesday said flatly.

"So did you. But at least you got a point against her." With that, Bianca turned and walked away.

Wednesday remained where she was, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts.

Why did it feel like she was everywhere and nowhere at once?

She exhaled sharply, spinning on her heel and leaving the gym.

By the time she reached quad for lunch, the words had already outrun her. As she stepped inside, the chatter shifted noticeably, students stealing glances at her as though they couldn’t believe the day’s events.

And then there was Enid.

The werewolf practically launched herself at Wednesday, her vibrant energy an unwelcome assault.

“Wednesday! Oh my gosh, is it true? Did you actually.......lose?"

Wednesday gave Enid her death glare... which Enid is immune to, unfortunately.

“Everyone’s talking about it. Apparently, you got your butt kicked by the new girl in, like, the most epic way possible! Like, who even is this girl? And why is she just as dark and scary as you?”

“I am not discussing this.” The glare deepened.

“Okay, okay,” Enid said, holding up her hands. “But seriously, who is she? And why are you so.... intense about this?”

“I am not intense,” Wednesday said curtly.

“Come on, are you jealous? Or just annoyed that someone might actually be better than you?” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Or… is it something else?”

Wednesday’s turned slowly, fixing Enid with a look that could have withered flowers. “Your penchant for meddling will get you killed one day.”

Enid smirked, unfazed. “Uh-huh. So, jealous and annoyed. Got it.”

Before Wednesday could retort, her gaze shifted to the far end of the dining hall.

There she was, sitting alone at a table. She had chosen a seat far from the crowd, her posture calm and unbothered, as though the buzz around her didn’t exist. The students nearest to her stole glances at her, some murmuring, and some looking at her like she was a ticking time bomb.

“You should go talk to her,” Enid whispered, leaning closer.

Wednesday tore her gaze away, fixing Enid with an incredulous look. “And say what, exactly?”

“I don’t know. How do goths befriend each other?” Enid said earning another death glare. “Besides, you two have the same energy; dark and brooding. You’re practically soulmates.”

“Ridiculous,” Wednesday muttered. But her eyes betrayed her, flicking back to the girl. She was so still, so utterly composed, it was unnerving.

Before Wednesday could decide whether to act, the girl stood, collecting her tray and leaving the hall without so much as a glance toward anyone.

She found out your name in alchemy class.

Alchemy was Wednesday’s next class, and she had hoped it would provide a distraction, But as she sat at her desk, her mind kept going back to that girl... and as she began the delicate work of combining reagents, She glanced at the door, almost involuntarily, as though expecting something... and she wasn't disappointed.

The room fell silent. Every student turned to look as the girl walked in, unhurried and unbothered. Her expression betrayed no hint of apology, no trace of acknowledgment for the disruption. She simply stepped inside as though she owned the space.

The professor sighed, “Well, if it isn’t our newest addition. Everyone, this is Y/N.” He gestured vaguely in your direction. “Y/N, I’d ask why you’re late, but something tells me you wouldn’t tell me anyway.”

You said nothing, offering only a blank stare before scanning the room. The only empty seat was beside Wednesday. Without hesitation, you walked over and sat down.

Wednesday stiffened, her focus now completely obliterated. She glanced at you from the corner of her eye, you seemed utterly unbothered by the attention of the room, just as she was at her start here in Nevermore.

The professor resumed his lecture, but Wednesday barely heard a word.

She pretended to focus on the lesson, her pen moving across her notebook. But her eyes betrayed her, darting toward you at every opportunity.

She should have been focused on the experiment, on proving her superiority in yet another intellectual endeavor. But all she could think about was.... those eyes.

Every time Wednesday stole a glance at you, she found herself lingering, her gaze caught by the depth of your stare. There was something unsettling about it, something that gnawed at the edges of her mind. She hated it. And yet, she couldn’t look away.

The rest of the class passed in a haze, when the professor finally dismissed them, Wednesday gathered her things ignoring you. She refused to acknowledge you as you rose and left the room, as silent and unbothered as ever... but she did. As she watched you disappear into the corridor, Wednesday felt a twinge of something she couldn’t name. Curiosity. Frustration. Whatever it was, she was sure she didn't like it.

She first talked to you in the library.

If she could eradicate botany from this school, she would. She despised the assignment. Plants were irritatingly alive, with their need for sunlight and water and their incessant growth. And worse, they were resilient, continuing to thrive no matter how much she wished otherwise. That their existence shared the same planet as hers was one of life's more enduring inconveniences.

But what annoyed her more was giving these green nuisances even a moment of her attention. It was an indignity she had endured only to achieve perfection in her report, which, of course, had been flawless. That's why she had come to the library, she needed a book, Comprehensive Biology.

And there you were.

At the far corner of the library, you stood alone, scanning the shelves.

Wednesday’s dark eyes narrowed. She hadn’t planned to confront you, but the sight of you, unbothered and aloof, stirred something in her. Frustration? No, she refused to acknowledge such a trivial emotion. It was something deeper. A need to understand. To assert control.

She approached quietly, her hands clasped behind her back as she stopped a few feet away. For a moment, she simply observed. You were searching for something, your eyes moving methodically over the spines of the books.

“Lost?” she asked finally, her tone sharp and cutting. Her voice broke the silence like a blade slicing through cloth. “Or have you simply forgotten how to read?”

You turned your head slowly, your expression unreadable as you looked at her. For a moment, there was nothing, no reaction, no flicker of recognition. Then you tilted your head slightly, the faintest hint of curiosity in your eyes.

“Who are you again?” you asked, your voice devoid of malice but also of any warmth.

The question hit Wednesday like a slap. Her expression didn’t falter, but inside, a slow burn began to rise. Who are you again? The words echoed in her mind, each one twisting the knife of insult deeper.

“Who am I?” she repeated, her tone laced with disbelief and irritation. She stepped closer, her dark gaze locked onto yours. “I’m the person you defeated. Twice. Today. The one you sat beside in class today. Or has your memory been as unimpressive as your personality?”

You blinked, unperturbed, and returned your gaze to the books. “Oh,” you said simply, as if the information had already slipped from your mind. “Right.”

The dismissiveness of your voice made Wednesday’s jaw tighten. Most people crumbled under her sharp tongue or recoiled from her glare. You, however, seemed utterly immune

“You’re remarkably unbothered for someone with so little reason to be,” Wednesday said, her voice icy.

You pulled a book from the shelf. “And you’re remarkably persistent for someone who lost.”

Wednesday’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. The audacity. The nerve. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to strangle you or applaud your ability to get under her skin.

“I don’t lose,” she said firmly.

You finally turned to face her fully, the book resting in your hands. “Then what do you call what happened earlier?”

Wednesday’s glare could have melted stone. “An anomaly. One that will not be repeated.”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression still maddeningly neutral. “If you say so.”

Most people would have shifted under her gaze by now, stumbled over their words, or tried to appease her. You did none of those things. Instead, you opened the book, flipping through its pages showing your complete disinterest in the conversation.

“Why are you here?” she asked finally, her voice quieter but no less pointed.

“Looking for a book,” you replied simply, your tone making it clear that the answer should have been obvious.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “And what, pray tell, is so fascinating that it brought you to the library instead of, say, gloating over your victory?”

You closed the book, sliding it back onto the shelf with the same quiet precision that marked everything you did. “I don’t gloat. Victory isn’t worth much if it’s expected.”

The words struck a chord.

“You’re insufferable,” she said finally, her voice a low growl.

You tilted your head again, considering her words. “So I’ve been told.”

Wednesday’s lips pressed into a thin line. “What type of outcast are you?”

No reply.

Her irritation spiked. “What’s your power? You must have one, unless the administration suddenly decided to admit normies."

Still no reply.

Wednesday huffed, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Ignoring me is ill-advised. I’ve been known to make people regret it.”

You pulled a book off the shelf, inspected it briefly, and then replaced it with a calm that bordered on infuriating.

Wednesday stepped closer, her boots silent on the carpet. “I asked you a question.”

Without a word or any visible motion, a glint of metal appeared in your hand. A knife, sleek and deadly, materialized out of nowhere. Wednesday froze, her body tensing as her hand instinctively moved toward her own hidden knife. But she stopped short when you spun the weapon in your fingers with fluid ease, offering her the handle.

Her eyes narrowed, suspicious and calculating. She didn’t take it immediately, instead scrutinizing both you and the blade. After a moment’s hesitation, Wednesday stepped closer, her hand brushing against yours as she took the knife.

It wasn’t an ordinary knife; it was a parrying dagger, the kind designed to trap and break an opponent’s blade... and it looked old, centuries old.

“Conjuring weapons,” she said slowly, her tone even but laced with curiosity. “Is that your ability?”

"Something like that." you answered.

Before she could probe further, you let out a quiet sigh, your gaze drifting back to the shelves. It seemed you still hadn’t found what you were looking for. As you stepped away from the shelf and headed toward the exit, Wednesday tried to stop you. She held out the parrying dagger, “Here. Take it back.”

"Keep it." You said simply without even glancing back, leaving Wednesday standing alone in the dimly lit library, the dagger still in her hand. She slid it into her pocket, her mind already plotting how she would uncover the truth about you. She didn’t just let things go. And she certainly wasn’t about to start with you.

She understood a bit more about you during botany.

Breakfast was, at best, tolerable, and at worst, a chore. The only reason she even bothered was the unavoidable biological need to sustain herself.

She surveyed the room with her dark eyes, already calculating the path of least interaction to her usual seat with Enid.

But her gaze froze mid-scan.

You were there.

Sitting at her table.

Sitting in her seat.

And beside you, chattering as though her life depended on it, was Enid Sinclair. Did Enid mistook you as Wednesday?

Wednesday’s dark eyes narrowed as she stood by the entrance, taking in the scene. How did you end up here? Of all the tables, all the seats in the dining hall, why hers? . You, however, were picking at your breakfast with the same disinterest Wednesday reserved for Enid’s most frivolous stories.

Enid noticed her almost immediately, waving excitedly. “Wednesday! Over here!”

Wednesday suppressed the urge to roll her eyes but failed. She stood rooted for a moment, weighing her options. She could walk away, claim another seat, and avoid the unbearable company of Enid and you. But that would mean admitting, if only to herself, that she was bothered. She was not one to surrender her territory so easily.

With a sigh that carried all the weight of her disdain, Wednesday made her way to the table. When she reached the table, she didn’t ask for her seat back. She was too mature for that.

Enid beamed. “Look who joined us! Isn’t this great?”

“It’s something,” Wednesday muttered, her tone flat as she slid onto the bench across from you.

You didn’t look up from your plate. The lack of acknowledgment was grating, though she couldn’t decide why.

“So,” Enid said, her voice a mix of excitement and curiosity, “Y/N was just telling me, well, okay, not telling, more like I was guessing, that she’s not really into breakfast food. Isn’t that funny? Like, how can anyone not love pancakes?”

Your fork paused mid-air for the briefest of moments before continuing its journey to your mouth. You didn’t respond.

Wednesday, who understood that pointless chattering annoys you as much as her... maybe she could try "The Enid Way"

“Perhaps Y/N finds pancakes as insipid as she finds conversation.”

Enid blinked, clearly unsure whether to laugh or defend herself. “Uh… okay, rude? But honestly, you two could totally bond over being broody and, like, totally impossible to read.”

Wednesday’s gaze flicked to you then, a sharp, probing look. “I wouldn’t say impossible. Predictable, perhaps. There’s a certain monotony to Y/N’s silence and I do not find it intriguing at all.”

You glanced up, finally meeting her eyes. There was no irritation in your expression, no spark of retaliation, just an unreadable calm that only served to unnerve her further. “And yet, here you are, commenting on it,” you said evenly before returning to your plate.

It wasn’t the sharpest retort, but the way you delivered it, like an afterthought, as though Wednesday’s presence barely registered, made it sting all the same.

Enid looked between the two of you, her eyes wide with the kind of excitement only she could muster. “Oh my gosh, this is like watching two glaciers collide! I mean, not that you guys are slow or cold or anything. Well, maybe a little cold. Anyway, isn’t this fun?”

“No,” Wednesday and you said at the same time.

Enid burst into laughter, clapping her hands. “See? You’re already bonding!”

Wednesday shot her a look that could curdle milk, but Enid was unfazed.

Eugene was approaching their table but he stopped short when he saw you, his gaze darting between you and Wednesday. His eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Uh… are we seeing double, or is this the person who—”

“Finish that sentence, Eugene, and I’ll make sure you regret it,” Wednesday said.

Eugene’s eyes widened as he nodded quickly. “Got it. Not finishing the sentence.” And just as Eugene joined the table, her attention returning to you. You were wiping your hands with a napkin, getting ready to leave. Wednesday can tell, your hate for social interaction, raged more than her's. Perhaps, she can use that against you.

As Enid watched you stand and leave without so much as a goodbye, she sighed dramatically, "You two would make the perfect brooding couple.”

Wednesday shot her a withering look. “Your penchant for romanticizing everything is both exhausting and nauseating.”

Enid just grinned. “Admit it, Wens. You’re curious about her.”

Wednesday didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Because as much as she hated to admit it, Enid was right. You were a mystery, and Wednesday Addams hated unsolved mysteries almost as much as she hated losing.

Wednesday walked into her botany class with her usual measured pace, her eyes scanning the room as she adjusted in her seat. She didn’t expect much from this class... wait... she forgot to pick up her botany book from the library last night because of you...

“Of course,” she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with venom. It was only fitting that you had managed to distract her into forgetting something as trivial yet necessary as a textbook. You were becoming a consistent thorn in her side. And speak of the devil,

You entered the greenhouse. Wednesday’s gaze flicked to you for a moment as you made your way to the empty seat beside her. You sat without so much as a glance in her direction.

When the class began, the new teacher, whatever her name was Wednesday doesn't care, droned on about invasive species and their effects on native flora.... just like you invaded her perfectly built world.

You weren’t writing anything down.

Your notebook remained mostly untouched, save for a few idle scribbles. Instead, you stared straight ahead, your gaze fixed on some undefined point, your expression unreadable.

For all your skill in fencing and your mysterious arrival at Nevermore, there was an emptiness in you, that Wednesday can feel now...

You didn’t belong here or maybe you belonged too much, in a way even Wednesday couldn’t define.

She first won against you during lunch....

During lunch, Wednesday sat at her usual table with Enid, who was excitedly recounting the latest gossip she’d overheard from the other werewolves. Her voice was a constant hum in Wednesday’s ear, background noise she had learned to filter out with practice.

Then Enid’s chatter abruptly halted.

“Y/N!”

Wednesday turned her head to see Enid bounding across the dining hall. You stood near the entrance, holding a tray of food with the same level of enthusiasm one might have for poison. Enid grabbed your wrist, tugging you toward their table with a persistence that could only be described as infuriating.

You shot Enid a glare that could have killed a lesser person, but the werewolf had her practice with Wednesday's death glare so she seemed unfazed. As you passed other students, you glanced down at Enid’s hand gripping yours with something bordering on confusion, as though physical contact itself was a foreign concept.

“Come on!” Enid chirped, her cheer undeterred by your visible disdain. “It’s not like it’ll kill you to sit with friends!”

“I wasn’t aware we were friends.” you said flatly.

“Not yet,” Enid said brightly, as if your protest were merely a formality.

Wednesday watched the exchange with a mixture of intrigue and irritation. How did Enid always manage to worm her way into the lives of people who radiated darkness like storm clouds? She had done it with Wednesday herself, and now it seemed you were the next victim.

When you reached the table, you didn’t sit immediately. Instead, you crossed your arms, glaring at Enid with a mix of irritation and reluctance.

“Sit!” Enid chirped, patting the bench beside her.

You exhaled sharply, muttering something under your breath, but eventually slid into the seat, placing your tray down.

Wednesday watched the exchange, her dark eyes narrowing at Enid’s ability to befriend the most unapproachable people. The werewolf had done the same with her. And though Wednesday would never admit it aloud, Enid had wormed her way into a space in her life that she didn’t entirely hate. Wednesday would be lying if she said she doesn't care for Enid at all.

Would Wednesday ever find you in that position? She quickly pushed that thought down the stairs, killing it then dumping the body.

“So,” Enid began, already bubbling with energy, “did you know that Wednesday is like, super into typewriters? It’s kind of adorable, honestly.”

“I’m right here,” Wednesday deadpanned.

“Oh, I know,” Enid said, grinning. “Speaking of which, didn’t you say you ran out of typewriter paper last night?”

“Yes,” Wednesday replied, her tone clipped.

“Well,” Enid continued, “I was thinking of taking Y/N to Weathervane for a tour. She’s new, after all."

You rolled your eyes. “I rejected.”

“Same thing!” Enid said brightly, brushing off your correction." Anyway, I thought, why not kill two birds with one stone? You can come with us and pick up your paper, Wednesday!”

Wednesday smirked faintly. She could tell you hated the idea of being dragged into Enid’s plans. You hated company, just as she did. But that made the opportunity to spite you all the more enticing.

“Fine,” Wednesday said, her tone even. “I’ll come.”

Enid clapped her hands together. “Yay! This is going to be so fun!”

You shot Wednesday a death glare, clearly unamused.

“Oh,” Wednesday added, her voice laced with mock innocence, “perhaps Eugene would like to join us. He loves coffee.”

“Eugene!” Wednesday called the hummer who was in their hummer's table. “Join us for a trip to Weathervane later.”

“Really?” Eugene’s face lit up, and he quickly shuffled over to their table.

You looked between Wednesday and Eugene, your glare sharpening. “This is ridiculous.”

“No,” Wednesday replied, meeting your glare with one of her own. “This is retribution.”

Enid, blissfully unaware of the tension, leaned forward with a grin. “This is going to be the best day ever!”

You didn’t respond, instead stabbing a piece of food on your plate with enough force to make the table tremble.

Wednesday allowed herself a small, victorious smirk. The fencing matches may have been your victories, but this round was hers.

But she hadn't seen the real you... until now.

“She’s late,” Wednesday muttered, already regretting her choice, agreeing to go just to spite you.

“Relax, Wednesday,” Enid said, though the werewolf sounded a little unsure herself. “Y/N doesn’t strike me as the punctual type. Or, you know, the type who tells people things. Like ever.”

Eugene adjusted his glasses. “Do you think she just bailed? Maybe she doesn’t actually want to come. I mean it has been almost half an hour...”

“She’s coming,” Wednesday said with conviction. She didn’t know why she was so certain, but she was.

Finally, you appeared in the distance, walking toward them with a measured, unhurried pace.

You stopped a few feet from the group, your hands shoved into your hoodie’s pockets, and regarded them with your usual, unreadable expression. You didn’t apologize for being late.

“You’re late,” Wednesday said, her tone biting.

You raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Eugene offered an awkward wave. “Uh, hey, Y/N.”

Enid quickly stepped in. “Glad you made it! We’ve been waiting forever, but, like, no big deal or anything.”

You didn’t respond to Enid’s cheerfulness, your gaze briefly flickering to her before shifting elsewhere.

“Well,” Enid said, clapping her hands together, “let’s go! The bus should be there any minute.”

The bus ride to Jericho was quiet, at least between you and Wednesday. Enid filled the silence with her usual chatter, talking about.... everything?

“Have you been to Jericho yet, Y/N?” Enid asked, turning to you with a curious smile.

You shook your head, your gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the bus window.

“It’s cute,” Enid continued, unfazed by your silence. “Small, but cute. Oh, but you should know, some of the normies there aren’t super friendly to outcasts. So, it’s always good to go with people who’ve got your back, you know?”

At her words, Wednesday saw something flicker in your eyes. It was brief, barely there, but it was enough to catch her attention.

A shadow of acknowledgment, perhaps, as you gave a small nod.

The bus arrived at Jericho and the group hopped down.

Enid led the way, her excitement not affected by your clear preference for distance. You trailed behind, keeping a noticeable gap between yourself and the others.

Eugene tried to bridge the gap a few times, but each attempt was met with silence, and eventually, he gave up.

The group stopped at a small general store first. Enid immediately darted toward the cosmetics aisle, her eyes lighting up as she scanned rows of nail polishes and makeup.

“Y/N, do you need anything?” Enid asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“No,” you replied simply, your voice as flat as ever.

Enid shrugged and continued her search, while Wednesday moved toward the stationery section, searching for her typewriter paper and ink. She found the items quickly enough but lingered, her gaze occasionally drifting toward you.

You stood near the entrance of the store, your hands in your pockets, watching a pair of children playing near the candy section. The boy, no older than six, was laughing as he chased his older sister around, their footsteps light and carefree.

It was subtle, but Wednesday noticed something in the way you observed them. Wednesday noticed something in your eyes, different from your usual detached demeanor. Intrigue? Longing? It was impossible to say.

“What’s so fascinating about them?” Wednesday asked, her voice low as she approached.

You didn’t look at her. “Nothing.”

“That’s doubtful,” she pressed.

You finally turned your head toward her, your expression unreadable. “Who says it’s your business?”

For a moment, Wednesday considered pushing further, but something in your tone warned her off. You weren’t going to share, and she didn’t care enough yet to pry the answer from you.

“Suit yourself,” she muttered, turning back toward the shelves.

When she returned to the checkout counter, you were already standing there, waiting. Wednesday placed her items on the counter, glancing at you from the corner of her eye.

You didn’t acknowledge her, your attention fixed on the glass door as though willing the others to hurry up.

“Got everything I need!” Enid chirped, appearing beside them with an armful of brightly colored products. She paid quickly, practically bouncing toward the exit.

“Come on, guys!” Enid called from the doorway, already heading outside.

Wednesday followed, her bag in hand. You moved to the door without a word.

The group had just stepped out of the store, when Wednesday’s sharp eyes caught movement near the counter, on the cashier, his shoulders hunched as five boys loomed over him. They weren’t just grabbing beers from the fridge. One of them yanked a handful of cash from the register

“C’mon, old man, don’t look at us like that,” one of them sneered. “Think of it as…taxes for keeping your store safe.”

The cashier muttered something inaudible, his voice trembling. The boys only laughed, grabbing more bottles and shoving them into their backpacks.

Enid’s cheerful demeanor shifted instantly. She grabbed Wednesday’s arm. “Wednesday…shouldn’t we do something? He needs help.”

Eugene took a step back, looking down at his feet. “I don’t know, Enid. These guys look...trouble. And we’re not even supposed to be here, technically.”

Wednesday frowned. On one hand, this was a normie problem, a petty theft that would resolve itself eventually. On the other hand, there was an undeniable injustice in letting the boys get away with it.

Before she could decide, the boys finished their “business” and left, swaggering out the door with their loot. Enid sighed, clearly disappointed but not wanting to push it further. “Guess we’d better go,” she said, turning to leave.

Wednesday hesitated for a moment but followed Enid and Eugene down the street. However, something nagged at her. A presence. She glanced back, and sure enough, there you were, still standing in the store’s doorway, watching the scene unfold.

“Y/N,” Wednesday called out,

You turned slowly, meeting her gaze with your usual unreadable expression. “I need to buy something.”

Enid frowned, confused. “But you said you didn’t need anything earlier.”

You didn’t respond to her. Instead, you turned on your heel and walked back into the store.

Curiosity piqued, Wednesday followed, with Enid and Eugene trailing behind. From their spot near the door, they watched as you approached the counter and spoke to the shaken cashier in a low, even voice. “I need that, that, and that.” you said, pointing to items behind the counter.

The cashier blinked, visibly confused but too shaken to argue. He retrieved an aluminum baseball bat, a heavy chain, and a pair of black gloves, placing them on the counter.

“What is she even going to do with all that?” Eugene whispered nervously.

You slid the gloves onto your hands, gripping the bat in one arm and coiling the chain loosely in the other. Without a word, you passed them, heading toward the alley where the boys had disappeared moments earlier.

“What is she—” Enid started, but Wednesday cut her off with a raised hand.

“Follow her,” Wednesday said, her voice low and firm.

The three of them trailed after you, keeping their distance until they reached the alley’s edge. Peeking around the corner, they saw the five boys lounging against a brick wall, laughing and drinking from their stolen beers.

When they noticed you, their laughter grew louder. One of them, tall with a cocky grin, stepped forward.

“Hey, little girl,” one of them said, smirking as he stepped forward. “What’s with the bat? You gonna play baseball with us?”

The others laughed.

But you didn’t respond. You simply stared at them, your grip tightening around the bat.

The first boy took another step closer, his smirk widening. “You lost, sweetheart? Or maybe you’re here to—”

CRACK

Wednesday can swear if she blinked she would've missed the swing of the bat as it connected with the boy's temple with a sickening thud, cutting his words short as he crumpled to the ground. The sound echoed through the alley, silencing the laughter instantly.

“What the hell?!” one of the boys shouted, his eyes wide with panic.

Wednesday’s breath hitched, her eyes locked on you as you adjusted your stance. There was no hesitation in your movements, no wasted energy. You were a predator, and they were your prey.

One of them lunged at you, but you sidestepped easily, the chain in your other hand whipped out, coiling around the wrist of the next boy like a serpent. With a sharp tug, you yanked him towards you, and the bat came down again with brutal precision on his head. Another one down.

“Holy crap,” Eugene whispered, clutching at Wednesday’s sleeve. “She’s… she’s gonna kill them!”

“No,” Wednesday murmured, her voice almost reverent. “She’s too precise for that.”

The remaining boys hesitated, their bravado faltering as they realized the odds weren’t in their favor. One of them pulled out a pocketknife, holding it up shakily.

“Stay back,” he warned, his voice betraying his fear.

You tilted your head slightly before the chain lashed out again, latching onto his hand. The knife clattered to the ground as you closed the distance, the bat swinging upward and catching him squarely under the chin. He collapsed in a heap.

You slowly picked up the knife and glared at the last two. With a flick of your wrist, the blade sailed through the air, embedding itself in the leg of one of them. He screamed, collapsing to the ground clutching his thigh.

The final boy tried to run, But you were faster. The chain wrapped around his ankle, sending him sprawling face-first onto the ground. The bat came down once, twice, and he was out.

The boy still screaming because of the knife latched onto his leg begged, “Take it! Take the money! Take the beer! Just don’t—” Your bat silenced him with a single, calculated blow to the side of his head.

Wednesday’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk. There was something captivating about the way you moved; calculated, efficient, merciless. Not a single touch landed on you, and yet you left all five of them groaning on the ground.

You crouched down, rummaging through the pockets of the nearest boy. Pulling out a wad of cash, probably way more than what they even stole. You rose and picked up the bag of beers.

As you passed the trio at the end of the alley, Wednesday’s gaze followed you, her smirk still there, she wouldn't hide it because she was, truly, for the first time in her life, impressed.

Wednesday followed you instantly, and the other two followed hesitantly... stopping just inside the doorway as you approached the cashier.

“I’d like to return this bat,” you said, placing it on the counter alongside the cash and the beer.

The cashier stared at you, wide-eyed and speechless.

Without waiting for an answer, you turned and walked out of the store, passing by the trio without so much as a glance.

Wednesday watched as you made your way to the bus stand, and just stood there. The three of them stood there in stunned silence.

Enid was the first to break it. “Okay, I take it back. She’s not just like Wednesday. She’s way scarier.”

Part 2

[A/n: Tried a new route, Didn't really find much fics out there where reader is the one who is more badass , so thought about writing one myself lol, Comment how you guys like this new one]

[exocaliii]

❦︎ Is That What You Want? (It's You)

| Se-mi / Player 380 x fem!reader |

Summary: In the worst possible place, you reunite with someone you never thought you would see again. Fortunately for you, the looming threat of death unveils many long lost feelings you both tried (and failed) to let go.

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: mention of suicide, death, violence, hurt/comfort, occasional use of Y/N even tho I do try to avoid it, lots of YEARNING, kind of a childhood friends to lovers typa scenario, kissing (but it's only in like one paragraph at the very end sorry freaksters....)

A/N: SEMI FIC HERE TO MAKE UP FOR HER FUMBLE IN THE LAST ONE!!!! this one is also extremely plot heavy as u can see from the word count LOL but I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY!! tried to show her softer side in this as well as her playfulness! this is for the people asking for a se-mi fic in my inbox sorry I made the post before I could click "respond to ask" and now im afraid I might actually delete everything so... this is for u whoever u are <3 I didn't read it over this time y'all so praying for no typos... ENJOY

—

When Se-mi first spots you, you’re crouched down in front of a table and surrounded by four other women as you throw the gonggi pieces into the air. For a solid minute, she thinks her eyes are playing tricks on her - that or this person that bears a striking resemblance to her first real friend wasn’t you at all. However, when your team rapidly advances around the bloodied track, she’s allowed a closer look at you; your hair has grown longer and you’re just a bit taller than the last time she saw you, but your eyes are still the same and that’s what confirms it for her. 

She doesn’t cheer when you win - her throat feels strangely tight and her heart is heavy in her chest even with your victory - but she does feel an overwhelming sense of relief as she watches you bound past the finish line. Seeing you smile and laugh once again stirs something inside of her, an emotion she hasn’t felt for years. 

Before you completely disappear behind the doors of the field, she swears she sees you turn around and look directly at her, vague recognition clear on your face. 

—

“Hey, where are you running off to so fast?”

Laughter rings out behind you as you pick up your pace, clutching your bag tight to your chest. Multiple footsteps fall in behind you, and with a short glance over your shoulder at the agitated faces of the girls trailing you, you realize today might not just end with a bit of teasing. It’s New Year’s Eve though and the sun is mostly set, so maybe they won’t knock you out cold so you can make it home on time to welcome the new year with your family.

“C’mon, aren’t you gonna pay us back?” For what, you want to shout, but before you even get the chance to respond, the footsteps behind you suddenly speed up. You’re practically thrown to the ground with a single hard shove on your back, arms flailing as your bag scuttles across the concrete. “My dad said your family owes us some money, you know, and I don’t mind getting it from you.”

Your head is spinning and your nose feels oddly hot, but you hear her words loud and clear and they send a deep feeling of shame through your entire body. A hand tangles itself in your hair as your head is pulled back, causing yet another fit of laughter to ring throughout the alley. “Fuck, her nose is bleeding so much! Did you break it?”

The one holding you by the hair reassures her group that you’d be fine, they could just say you fell because currently, it was your word against five other students. A part of you begins to wonder if anyone would even come help if you screamed right then - the alley was right next to the school, someone was bound to hear you. 

As the other four begin to sift through your bag for any valuables, you find your mouth sealed shut, afraid that even a whimper of pain would turn the attention of this pack of wolves back towards you. You didn’t have much in your wallet these days, and what you did have was pocket change for emergencies. They would go home disappointed either way, but whatever kept you from getting beaten the worst would be preferred. 

“What the hell, she’s only got like 5000 won in here.” The tallest girl turns to you with both confusion and disdain evident on her face. “Are you really that fucking poor? Where’s the rest of it?”

She stands right back up and so does the other three, all slowly advancing on you as you were held down by the fifth. You don’t even struggle against her loose grip on your hair, slowly coming to accept the fact that you might just have to take a beating for today, because there is no ‘the rest of it.’ 

Perhaps, if you’re lucky, they’ll get bored fast at your lack of reaction to anything they do and you’ll only go home with a bloody nose and a couple easily hidden bruises. 

You can accept that fate, you can accept your place in this world. 

“What the hell’s going on here?” 

Everyone’s heads, even yours, turn towards the lone girl standing at the entrance of the alleyway. With the setting sun behind her, her face is mostly casted in shadows. You think you recognize her as one of the troublemakers in your math class, constantly getting sent outside to stand in the hallway and ‘think about what she’s done.’ Even after being in the same class for two years, you still haven’t quite learned anything about her beyond her antics. The reason for why she’s butting in though, is also lost on you.

“Mind your business, Se-mi.” So that’s her name. It fits her. “We’re just teaching this one a nice lesson in karma.” 

How ironic. Five girls beating on a younger classmate would definitely bring them amazing luck for the New Year.

Se-mi’s eyes trail down towards the ground, towards you, and her eyes take in your bloody nose and the deep-blue bruise already forming on your cheek. For a second, you think she might just leave you here like anyone else would, but after some obvious inner contemplation, she speaks up once again.

“She looks like she understands it just fine now,” she says mockingly, beginning to walk closer towards you all. Her eyes are sharp, leaving no room for argument, and you only wish you could be half as strong to stand up to these girls. “Maybe you guys should just head home.” It sounds less like a suggestion than it does a threat, and your attackers respond in kind. 

“What, you got a problem with us?” It’s obviously not a real question, but a chance for Se-mi to back out now before things get serious. She doesn’t.

“Yeah, I do, so what’re we gonna do about it?” 

Inwardly, you curse yourself for inadvertently placing this stranger at risk to get beat up right alongside you for a problem that definitely had nothing to do with her. 

For a second, the girls are silent, but you can practically feel their anger growing as the one on top of you lets go of your hair. Se-mi stands her ground, expression just as cold as always as they try (and fail) to intimidate her with their glares. You’re frozen in awe of this idiot for both her courage and her poor decision-making skills.

It’s no surprise to you when the tall one lunges forward to try and land the first punch in the inevitable fight, but Se-mi is quick to dodge it and redirect her momentum right into the side of a trash can. All hell breaks loose after that, and for a second, you think your savior might just win the fight with pure skill and experience alone, but reality catches up to you both. 

With pure numbers, they bring Se-mi to the ground, and even though you scramble to your feet and try to fight them as well, you’re humbled even faster with your already pre-existing injuries and lack of knowledge on any forms of fighting. The tall one is the angriest, screaming curses at you both as you’re kicked and punched on the ground. Se-mi’s attempt to get back on her feet is thwarted by a solid hit on her face, and your lack of an attempt is rewarded with a fist right to the center of your ribcage, knocking all the air out from your lungs. 

As you’re beginning to think they might really want to kill you both, sirens in the distance interrupt the bombardment of pain on your sore body. 

“Shit, is that the police? Have we been spotted?” Their voices are now twinged with a hint of anxiety at being caught, and fortunately for the two of you, that’s all it takes to end the assault. “Let’s just leave.”

With a final kick to your back, the girls quickly grab their backpacks and run for it, long forgetting your own bag and the 5000 won that started this beatdown in the first place. 

—

As you look around the giant room for a place to eat, you find yourself unconsciously scanning the crowd for a familiar face as well. 

A part of you is sure that it was her that you walked right by in the middle of the last game, but you were so focused on facing forward to make sure you wouldn’t trip that you weren’t able to get a clear look at her face. Even after you won, you were given little to no time to do anything on the field before being ushered back to the main room. Now, you’re beginning to think that the looming threat of death is making you cling even harder to long lost dreams, but you hope that isn’t enough to make you hallucinate people you used to know. 

Sitting down on one of the unoccupied steps, you open your container and begin digging in, forcing yourself to forget the foolish dream that’s been occupying your mind for hours now. Even during the vote, you found your hand drifting towards the bright red X just in case she really was here and at risk of imminent death (just like everyone else). In the end, the blue patch on your chest is unchanging, and no imaginary companion will change that.

“Y/N?”

Your neck almost snaps clean in half with the way your head shoots up to see the person who just called your name, a name you are 100% sure you didn’t give to anyone here. Yet, when you see who it is, you’re somehow even more surprised than you would’ve been if it was some stranger. 

Se-mi casually stands right in front of you after what felt like a lifetime without her. She smiles - no, smirks at the recognition evident on your face and plops herself down right next to you.

“Long time no see, 399,” she says, her voice teetering on the edge of teasing and what might be genuine happiness to see you again. Of course, she has to ruin the moment by reminding you of the situation you had to reunite in, and you glance down at the number on her chest as well.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you again, 380.” You add as much sass to your voice as you can manage in the moment, but it comes out just as soft as you meant it in your heart because it is good to see her again. 

For a moment, the two of you can only stare at each other, picking up the differences in each person’s appearance since the last time you met. It’s the kind of peaceful silence that you haven’t been afforded for far too long, and now that it’s given to you, you can’t bring yourself to be the one that breaks it. Luckily for you, it seems like Se-mi can’t either, because all she does is stare at you with an indecipherable look in her eyes. If you had to describe it, you might say that it’s the unspoken equivalence of the softness in your voice from earlier (by now, you understand full well that the most genuine emotion you’ll get out of her might just have to come from carefully reading every one of her expressions). 

For a long time, the two of you simply eat in silence, basking in each other’s company. Your legs occasionally brush with how close she sat to you, but it doesn’t feel awkward in the slightest; if anything, it’s comforting, reminding you of your youth together before the real world caught up. 

“So, you know what I’m gonna ask you.” As always, it’s her that breaks the silence between you two, and you can’t blame her for being curious. Afterall, this was a horrible place to meet someone you know.

“My father’s business finally completely collapsed, and now we’re getting chased around the country by loan sharks,” you say, laughing a bit at your own situation. It didn’t take long for you to decide that Se-mi deserved to know the truth, but you knew she would be the last person to judge you for such circumstances. “I didn’t have any other options besides this.”

She doesn’t look at you with pity for your answer. It’s one of the traits you appreciated most from her back then. 

“What about you? How’d you end up in this shithole?” 

Your question earns you a laugh that as always, never fails to make you smile right back at her.

“I mean, I can’t say I’m getting chased around, but I’ve got a bit of debt I need to handle.” She almost decides to cut her story off there, but you’re looking at her with such genuine interest in your eyes that she can’t bring herself to hide the rest from you. How long has it been since someone cared so much about what she had to say? “College was… too expensive. I didn’t have anyone that could help out, so I’ve just been working random jobs here and there.”

Unfortunately, her answer seems completely honest. You wish you could’ve been there by her side, but your own family was dealing with a lot then too. 

“Why didn’t you just… continue to try to make it work out there?” You’re praying that your question doesn’t come off as insensitive, but she seems to find it amusing if anything. “Why would you risk losing everything like this?”

That last phrase earns you a scoff this time, and she turns away with a strained expression, clearly struggling to keep her ever cocky smirk on her face.

“I don’t have anything left to lose. This place is my chance to get a headstart or just…” The rest remains unsaid, and even though she’s speaking so casually, your heart drops at the insinuation. “...I haven’t left a mark on the world at all, Y/N. What happens here really won’t matter much to anyone out there.”

For a second, you’re stumped as to how to answer her. There’s some twisted truth to her reasoning, and you’re sure that if most of the people in this room died tomorrow, their deaths would be passed off as mere victims to loan sharks or suicide. That, or their disappearances wouldn’t be noticed at all. But no. It isn’t the same for Se-mi, and you desperately want her to know that.

“It would matter a lot to me.” You try to make it sound casual so she doesn’t tuck tail and run like she usually does, but you know it left an impact on her with the way her eyes drift to the ground and her brows furrow just slightly. “You left a pretty big impact on my life, you know that?”

As you turn back towards your food, Se-mi glances at you from the corner of her eye. There isn’t a hint of deception or even sarcasm in your face, in your voice, in any part of you. It’s a level of honesty she’s only ever experienced from you, and after being apart for so long, she had forgotten how soothing it was to be on the receiving end of such genuine kindness. 

For years now, she had found herself searching for you in every face she came across, in every friend and partner she had, in every short moment of peace she was allowed in her rocky life. Now that she’s finally found you though, she’s not sure what to do with herself. 

For the rest of night, right up until lights-out, the two of you bask in the silence once again. In your own separate ways, you both sit there and think about each other. You consider what you lost when you were separated from her. She considers the fact that she might’ve just regained something she can now lose if her own life is lost, and the thought of it terrifies her. 

When it’s time to sleep, it’s Se-mi that gets up first, albeit with a great deal of hesitance. The two of you part ways, and before you can get too far, you hear a faint whisper from behind you.

“Good luck tomorrow.”

It makes you crack a smile, turning around to see her still looking at you. Her smile is still strained, but now, there’s a hint of happiness there.

“Yeah, you too, and goodnight, Se-mi.” 

Even now, the sound of your soft voice calling her name makes her heart skip a beat.

—

“What the fuck was that…” 

You finally begin to stir awake at the groans and curses coming from beside, and all your body feels is pain.

God, they really did a number on you didn’t they?

“Fucking cops didn’t even stop for us,” the voice groans again, now paired with a faint shuffling as you watch her attempt to get back on her feet through your incredibly blurry eyes. All you can manage is to roll onto your back, looking up to see the pitch black sky.

Wait, black?! 

How long have you been out?!

“Uff!” A loud clatter of boxes graces your ears as you glance over to see her - Se-mi, was it? - right back on the ground. From the looks of it, her legs were also feeling extremely uncooperative. You already feel like shit, but she took a majority of the beating so she probably feels even worse. Guilt courses through you as she groans in pain, rolling onto her back to mimic your position. 

For a couple minutes, you both lay there in silence, staring up at the empty night sky. In the far distance, cars zoom past on the main road, likely salarymen rushing to get home to their families in time to celebrate New Years.

By now, you've come to the realization that you'll probably would have to celebrate yours alone on the ground this time, considering the fact that your body was not letting you get back up. For now, at least, maybe you can get to know your savior (or rather, attempted savior).

“...I’m sorry about this,” you whisper, sighing heavily into the cold December air.

“Did you get a few hits in on me too?” She’s clearly mocking you, but you can’t even be mad right now. 

“Still… sorry.”

“It’s whatever.” A beat of silence follows. “I never liked those bitches anyways.” 

The second part is almost whispered as if it were a secret between the two of you, and you let out a small chuckle, cutting yourself off before it becomes a laugh as pain shoots up your torso at that small movement. 

In the tranquility that follows, Se-mi begins to fully question why she was laying there on the cold concrete in extreme discomfort for a stranger - well, not really a stranger, but she doesn’t even know your name. Then she thinks back to the ugly feeling she had in her gut watching you get cornered by those stuck-up rich kids, unwilling to even fight back, and she thinks she might’ve done the right thing despite how meaningless this encounter might become. 

She looks over at your bruised face thinking about how similar you looked to a kicked puppy at that instance, and she can’t help but push your buttons even more. 

“Aren’t you glad we were able to save your 5000 won?” 

The absurdity of her statement distracts you from the pain you feel, and after a scoff and a slight shake of your head, you find yourself genuinely laughing for the first time in a long time. It doesn’t take long for her to follow, and after a couple moments, you both find yourselves giggling like children at the shitty situation.

You enjoy this rare moment of companionship for only a couple seconds before you begin hearing loud shouts in the distance.

They’re counting down, but you’re nowhere near home and neither is she.

“5!”

“Hey, what’s your name?” 

“4!”

You turn your head and answer her, and she smiles at you.

“3!”

“I’m Se-mi.” 

“2!”

It’s different hearing her name from her own mouth, spoken without any of the hatred that your attackers infused into the word.

“1!”

You both look up just in time to see fireworks lighting up the once dark sky, red, yellow, and green hues reflecting in your eyes as you force yourself to relax and take in the moment. 

In this moment, with Se-mi by your side, you don’t feel as lonely as you expected yourself to be. It’s a feeling of comfort you’re rarely given, but you openly bask in it as you think about the confidence and bravery it must’ve taken to stand up against five people like that. In another life, perhaps, you could be someone like her, protecting people like you. 

Like a knight in shining armor.

“Happy New Year, Y/N. I’m going to sleep now.” Your head snaps over in her direction as she folds her hands behind her head and closes her eyes, getting way too comfortable on the ground of a shady alleyway.

“What?” No response. “What the hell are you talking about? We’re not sleeping here!”

She bluntly ignores you and her breaths get heavier, but it’s obvious that she’s just pretending to be asleep. The thought of getting up and leaving by yourself crosses your mind, but you can’t bring yourself to part with this girl just yet.

With a resigned sigh, you roll onto your side with a pained groan and close your eyes as well, praying that no mysterious van comes to kidnap you two in this moment.

“Happy New Year, Se-mi.” Silence. “And thank you.”

You’re already facing her so when you peak open your eyes, you see her lips twitch upwards at your choice to stay, and that solidifies the deal.

When morning comes the next day, you don’t even bother going home first before walking alongside her to school. You sit next to her in class for the first time, and you share the lunch you bought with her under the guise of ‘not being able to finish it.’ She’s resistant at first, but eventually, she indulges you. 

This routine continues for the next two years. It’s only interrupted when you break the news to her that your father is forcing the family to flee because of his growing debts. 

That night, you both walk back to the alley and lay there together under the stars.

You think you might’ve seen her eyes water once or twice, but you say nothing, unwilling to break the sacred silence between the two of you. It’s the last one you share for years, until you inevitably see her again in the worst possible place.

—

As everyone begins filing out to head to the next game, Se-mi feels an uncontrollable urge to break away from her current group to go find you once again. She can already see you in the distance, but even though the two of you make eye contact for a brief moment, you look away upon seeing her already large group. 

Shoving her hands in her pockets, she begins to turn away from the rambling of Thanos and Nam-gyu behind her, but a meek voice calls out her name and stops her.

“Where are you going?” 

It’s Min-su, and he’s looking at her like a lost animal terrified of losing its protector. A wave of guilt crashes into her at the thought of leaving this poor boy to the sharks, and even though your face is still the only thing on her mind, she wonders if it’s worth it to betray her new group. 

If she left now, she might not make it through this next game. 

If she dies now, she won’t get a second chance at life (and a second chance to live by your side again, but she pushes that thought to the side for now). 

“Nowhere, let’s go.”

That’s all it takes to appease him, and with one last glance over to where she saw you last, she reintegrates herself back into the group and moves forward. 

—

Even though the first two rounds pass by without a hitch, you think this game might be the most dangerous one yet. You’ve got your own little group from the Six-Legged Race, but as the announcer called for rooms of four, you watch the youngest girl of your team get shoved out of your group by two others (sisters, if you remembered correctly). It’s heartbreaking to hear her cry out as you all ran away, but you can’t save her and save yourself at the same time. 

You’ve made it this far, and you’d be damned if you were sent home an empty handed corpse now. 

As the platform begins to spin again, you pat the shoulder of the woman standing next to you - 047. She was closer to the younger one than you were, and her death obviously shook the poor lady up. Her reaction makes you realize how distant you’ve been to everyone since you arrived (with one notable exception, of course), and you find your own heart beating hard against your chest at the thought of being abandoned as well. 

“3 players.”

Of course.

For a second, the four of you freeze. The sisters are holding onto each other’s hands with a death grip, and you know now that it’s between you and 047. A part of you thinks about shoving her down so you could run away with the other two, but something behind her catches your eye before you can do anything.

It’s Se-mi. 

She’s standing completely alone, hand held out towards nobody, and not a single other person from that group you saw her with earlier by her side. 

Like it’s muscle memory, you shove past 047 and run the fastest you’ve ever ran right at her. You hear a faint yell of gratitude from behind you as you wrap your arms around Se-mi and pull her forward towards one of the empty rooms in the distance. The impact seems to wake her out of her stupor, changing your awkward position so that now, you’re running side by side with her hand in yours. Along the way, you grab a stray girl up from the ground by the back of her sweater and pull her along to complete the three. 

As you all clamber into the room, Se-mi slams the door shut behind you, barely missing the time-out buzzer. The lock clicks shut, and you hear gunfire outside, but she ignores all of it to turn around to look at you. This is the most emotional she’s looked since you’ve reunited, eyes downturned with sadness and a hint of fear at how close she was to death. 

Ignoring the girl repeatedly thanking you to your right, you walk up to Se-mi and pull her into a tight hug, relishing in the warmth of her body. 

“I’m glad I made it in time, 380.”

You feel her arms beginning to wrap around you before the lock clicks open, forcing you to pull apart to exit the room. Your hand doesn’t leave hers, and it’s a clear signal that you’ll be sticking by her side for the rest of this game.

Se-mi doesn’t even find herself searching the arena for Min-su and the others as you walk with her back to the platform, completely distracted by the tingling sensation in her hand as you interlace your fingers together. It’s a feeling that’s new to her, being chosen by someone in a manner like this; of course, she’s been desired before, maybe even loved (despite her inability to return the other person’s feelings), but this is different somehow. In this scenario, it’s you, not some random girl she met at a bar. It’s you choosing to risk your life to make sure she continues living, and in the wake of this realization, the feelings that she’s been shoving down for countless years come rushing back to her. 

As the next rounds pass by, you remain unchanging by her side. Even as the announcer calls for 2 players, you don’t even hesitate to pull her with you, leaving behind everyone you joined up with in the last couple rounds. 

Even after you run over the blood of countless others, you never let go of her hand, and she never lets go of yours.

—

“You really saved my ass back there.”

Here, back in the comfort of this familiar room, Se-mi has regained her usual joking nature, smirking at you as you nod, very clearly proud of yourself.

“Yes, I did. Maybe you should give me your share of the prize money for that,” you say, holding out your hand to her. She laughs and wraps her arm around your shoulder, walking you back over to the steps where you had your first conversation. 

“Maybe I will, or maybe I’ll pay for a couple meals together instead.” The innuendo isn’t lost on you, and your face goes red as she gets even cockier. “It’s time I pay for you for all those lunches, but dinner wouldn’t be so bad either.”

Your face is still turned away from her in embarrassment, but she can still see the blush on your cheeks, revelling in her own ability to make you fold. You mumble something under your breath, but she’s too focused on her victory to hear you. 

“What was that?”

“I said, you’ve already saved me plenty of times before, more times than you can count, so I should treat you first.” 

The warmth in her chest returns full force, and now, it’s her fighting to keep a blush off her face, lest you start embarrassing her about that too. She wonders, what would it be like to take you out on a proper date? She imagines you all dressed up, and in that moment, she decides what she wants to spend her prize money on first when you all leave this place. 

She wants to buy you flowers. She wants to take you to a nice, luxurious restaurant and show you off, then under the stars, she’ll ask you to be hers.

“Whatever you say, pretty lady.”

That earns her a smack on the arm and a scoff as your face starts burning once again (to Se-mi’s absolute delight). 

The moment is unfortunately interrupted by the main doors sliding open, and you watch as the pink guards file in. At the front table, two giant buttons lay waiting for the remaining contestants. Everyone around you begins to speak in hushed tones, obviously discussing their plans for the next vote. 

“Are you going to change your vote?” As you spin around to face her again, Se-mi gestures down at the blue patch on your chest. 

During your entire walk back, you had been contemplating your unchanging choice to stay and risk your life. For the majority of the first two days, you lived life believing there would be no consequences to your death. You wouldn’t lose anything - your life was already in immense danger outside this place, so your family wouldn’t be too surprised if you turned up dead either. There was nothing to lose and everything to gain, and so, O was the easy choice.

Then Se-mi walks back into your life and complicates the hell out of it. 

Now, you realize that if you vote to stay, you’re also voting for her to stay and risk her life. If either of you died here, you would be wasting this chance cast upon you to experience the world by her side.

“Yes, this should be enough money for my family to be able to live normally again.” 

She nods, and even though it looks like she’s still contemplating her decision, Se-mi made her choice as soon as you took her hand in the last game.

“Even if there were less money in the pig right now, I think I’d still pick to leave.” You smile softly at her and look her directly in the eye as you continue. “Being wealthy is a faraway dream, but for now, I just want to live in the company of those I love.” You squeeze her hand and hold your gaze, and this time, Se-mi isn’t able to hold back the blush that rushes onto her face.

If these games don’t take her out, you’ll really be the death of her.

—

As you silently eat what is hopefully your last meal in this place together, two groups of men clamber out of the bathroom. They’re bloodied and there’s a horrifying look of pure bloodlust on many of their faces, and you feel your heart drop. 

Would there be a fight tonight? Is that allowed?

Se-mi sees the fear on your face and gently rubs her thumb on the back of her hand. Despite her best efforts though, your concerns are not assuaged and you realize that getting shot by the pink guards might not be the only way you can die in this place. 

These people are hungry and hopeless, and you fully understand the lengths many would go through for a second chance.

“Se-mi, sleep with me tonight.” 

Her eyebrows raise and she smirks, but even this attempt to lighten the air with her usual humor doesn’t work, but still, she agrees immediately and you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You’re sure that no matter what happens, you won’t find sleep tonight, but that pales in comparison to your desire to protect Se-mi at all costs. 

You won’t leave this place without her. 

—

As the strobe lights turn on and off, your eyes bounce around the room as you search for somewhere, anywhere that might be free of the insane violence. Every way you look, there’s some sort of fight happening - that or you’ve just watched someone get brutally murdered in their own bed. For a second, you consider that you might be safe if you and her just stand still in your little corner, but a man rounds the corner and you feel yourself freeze up.

“Come here, you fucking traitor bitch!” It’s 124, and he looks like a rabid animal with red painted across his face and a bloody fork in his hand. In the back of your mind, you slap yourself for not keeping the utensil for self defense. 

Se-mi attempts to shove you further behind her as he begins charging at you two, but before you can even make a move, a glass bottle shatters at his feet. You all look up to see a young man that you don’t recognize, but from the rage on 124’s face, you figure he might’ve been one of his old teammates. 

In their distracted states, you rush forward, grabbing a shard of glass from the floor and swinging it right at the man’s head. Unfortunately for you, you still have absolutely no skills when it comes to fighting and he easily dodges the hit. It doesn’t feel like some slow motion action movie when you see his fork flying at your neck at full speed, but somehow, you’re fast enough to lift your hand so that it punctures right through your palm instead. You scream, and behind you, Se-mi calls your name as well. 

In an extremely painful rush of adrenaline, you maneuver his and your body to switch places, trusting Se-mi to take care of the rest. In the few flashes of light that you’re granted, you see her rush forward with her own shard of glass in hand, unforgivingly jabbing it right into the side of 124’s neck. 

“Fuck! Fucking bitch!” His scream pierces your ears as he finally lets you go, and you don’t waste the moment you get. Pulling his fork out of your hand, you slam it down into the side of his head with all your strength. 

A beat passes, then he falls to the ground unmoving. 

“Are you okay?! Let me see!” Se-mi rushes forward and takes you in her arms, dragging both of you backwards towards the wall as she inspected your injuries. In the rush that followed watching someone die by your own hands, you can barely feel the pain at all. All you can focus on is the woman in front of you and how afraid you were when 124 charged at her. 

“Se-mi - Se-mi, listen to me,” you choke you, using your bloody hands to gently hold her face. Her eyes are glossy with unshed tears, and you can see how much the encounter shook her to her core. “When we leave this place, promise me you’ll stay by my side.”

Your voice is desperate and you can feel your own tears rising, vision getting blurry as you struggle to wipe them off with the sleeve of your sweater. It looks like Se-mi barely heard your request with the way she was still scanning your body for any serious injuries. 

“What?! What are you-”

“Promise me! Please!” You’re openly sobbing now, holding onto the one thing keeping you moving in this world, and finally, she focuses her gaze back on your face. With a quiet voice, she finally responds to you with a shaky smile.

“How could I ever leave you?”

Her eyes are the most expressive they’ve been, filled with concern and what looks like love, the same love that you’ve held for her ever since you were 16. 

With trembling hands, she holds your face just as you hold hers and leans in, pressing her lips against yours. It’s not gentle - it’s more desperate if anything, but you feel like flying in that moment. As your legs slowly give out, she holds you carefully in her arms and lowers the both of you to the floor. 

Finally, as you begin to drown out the surrounding chaos, the world around you falls silent as well. You close your eyes and imagine that you’re back in that alleyway, finally at peace with the person you love the most.

When you open your eyes again, she’s still right there in front of you, and you’re the happiest you’ve been since the day you met.

—

A/N: PLOT MONSTER STRIKES AGAIN!!! anyways this was inspired by a cherry waves edit I saw of her on TikTok where she told min-su "I thought you wouldn't deceive me" so I had to give her a girl that she KNOWS would never deceive her... okay guys hope y'all enjoy and as always plz PLZ LMK WHAT U THINK!! I love interacting with y'all im serious... and for the no eul lovers I see u and I hear u... but its gonna be a bit till that one comes out cuz im about to start second semester college... hashtag NOT FUNNY ANYMORE

also im still playing around with the layout of my posts so if I keep doing different sht and it throws u off im so sorry LOL

[undressrehearsal]

a bite of luxury

part 1

summary: you decide to look for a sugar mommy and stumble across this strange girl that seems to have more to hide

tags: sugarmommy!ellie, rich!ellie, vampire!ellie (yep, we got it all) alcohol, reader is poor lmao, reader uses she/her and is referred to as a girl once or twice, no smut in this one sorry gotta establish the world first

word count: ~8k

a/n: it's been so long since i posted a fic lol working full time and trying to finish my book is killing my schedule BUT i hope y'all like this this was my fiancee's idea and i'm running with it i got a LOT of plans for this one - plans i think y'all are gonna love

also the drawing in the cover is made by @nramv seriously go check out their work they're so talented!!

if you wanna be added to my tag list just lmk!

part 2

You hadn’t been searching for a sugar mommy. 

Truthfully, when your best friend had sent you the link, you had dismissed it immediately. She had been joking about it for months, talking about how much easier it would be if you just found a nice older woman to take care of you. You hadn’t even opened the link - you only rolled your eyes, replied with a middle finger emoji, and left it at that. 

And yet things kept piling up. The stack of bills on your kitchen counter was growing to a concerning height, a mountain of unanswered responsibilities that was getting harder to ignore. Your landlord kept calling you - you no longer answered, just watched the phone ring until it finally stopped and ignored the increasingly angrier voicemails. Your apartment was an absolute disaster; you could never be bothered to clean it, because by the time you got home from working both of your jobs, you only had enough energy to eat a bowl of leftovers and promptly pass out in bed. 

The link kept popping up in your mind, each bill in your mailbox a gentle reminder. You found yourself scrolling all the way up the text chain to find it again during sleepless nights. So many times you would only stare at it, your thumb hovering over the blue letters, before you closed the chat and threw your phone down. 

It was stupid, of course. But as time went on, the idea of letting yourself get buried alive under a mountain of debt - of getting evicted from your apartment and having to crash on your friend’s couch - seemed all the more stupid. 

So, late on a Thursday night, after you had had another anxiety attack staring down at your bank account, you went back up the text chain, and you clicked the link. 

www.seeking.com

It didn't take long for the messages to start coming in. You should have been flattered, honestly - you had at least a handful of people in your messages practically begging you for the honor of paying your fucking rent - but you really just felt like you were playing a part that you hadn't even read the script for. You had curated your profile with all the things that made you appear more cultured than you actually were: going to museums and pondering over Baroque art and reading poetry over a pretentious cup of coffee. Sure, these were all things you had done - you had photo proof, after all - but somehow you didn't recognize yourself. It felt like you were looking at pictures of a stranger living a life you wanted but couldn't reach. 

Most people were fine - charming, even. You got maybe one or two that felt like they would lure you into their sex dungeon to murder you, but that was expected with any dating site. You even went on a few dates, scrounging up the nicest dress you owned and getting pampered at a five-star restaurant or going for a ride on an older woman’s personal yacht. One person even took you for a helicopter ride, which was fun but she was a little too handsy on the first date to warrant a second. 

One name kept popping up though, a name that was becoming far too familiar in your notifications. 

ellie: meet me at 8 <3 

When she first messaged you, you had thought she was like you: somebody searching for a partner to pay their bills. Her pictures didn't exactly scream sugar mommy material. Her first picture was just a normal selfie taken outside; she wore a worn out leather jacket, her short hair tangled from the wind and green eyes squinting in the sunlight. She had stupid pictures of mushrooms and candid shots of her browsing a science museum, looking far too excited in front of a t-rex skeleton. Hell, in most of her pictures she looked like she was wearing clothes she had found at a thrift store.

You had thought she was like you, until she sent you a picture inside her fucking Rolls-Royce. 

“Fuck,” you audibly cursed into the quiet of your room. You had been talking for a few days, and she had begun to do that - sending you small selfies throughout the day. In the last one, she had taken a picture in front of the mirror at the gym, flicking off the camera, her lean muscles glistening with sweat. Before that, it had been a blurry picture of her dog, Riley - a huge German Shephard - splayed on her back at a park, leaves stuck in her fur. 

So, yeah, when you found out Ellie was not only rich, but rich enough to casually have a Royce, you were more than a little surprised. 

The selfie was cute, you couldn’t deny that. Her hair was wind-swept, catching in those long ass eyelashes. Ellie’s nose was scrunched up, freckles popping against her cheeks, holding up a peace sign. 

She was fucking adorable and you already knew it. But seeing her worn out leather jacket and messy hair against black and white leather seats that looked like they, alone, cost more than your entire apartment complex combined - it was a little jarring. 

And when she asked you out on a date soon after - after finding out she wasn’t Iike you but rather searching for someone like you - how could you say no? 

Ellie offered to pick you up - like a gentleman, she had said - but frankly, you weren’t quite convinced yet that she wasn’t some blood-thirsty pervert trying to lure you into her dungeon, so you politely declined. Instead, in your nicest dress and heels you hardly wore because they pinched your toes, you called an Uber. 

You had never been to this side of town. You had plugged in the address Ellie gave you - had double and triple checked it while your awkwardly chatty Uber driver tried asking you about what you do for a living - but the streets here were so unfamiliar you may as well have been in another city. You looked at the foreign buildings rising up around you, large windows giving you a glimpse of the life inside them. People were sitting outside in the chilly air, laughing over wine and dinner. Looking at them - with perfectly sculpted hair and clothes you would have to spend several entire paychecks on - you felt like a cheap impersonator dressed up in a costume. 

The Uber pulled up in front of a hotel, and your heart stopped. Surely, this wasn’t where Ellie had sent you - leading you to some fucking hotel room when you hadn’t even met yet? 

You turned to the driver, your home address at the edge of your tongue, when the car door opened. 

You had practically been leaning against the door to peer out the window, and nearly lost your balance when it was suddenly gone without warning. You looked up, ready to yell at whatever pretentious prick in Prada was trying to fuck with you - but your voice died in your throat. 

Ellie was shorter than you thought she'd be, honestly. In all her pictures, she had this commanding energy, like she would tower over you in person. 

Which, to be fair, she was. She had her arm propped on the doorframe above your head, leaning over so she could meet your eyes. Her hair was pushed back from her face, a few stray strands falling over her forehead, and she was looking at you with an intensity that hadn't quite translated through her pictures.

Ellie smiled - that adorably crooked smile you had seen in all her selfies - and said, “Hi.” 

And the only word you were able to get your mouth to form was, “Fuck.” 

Ellie blinked at you for a moment - long enough that you could feel the flush creeping up your neck and were ready to walk home if you had to - before she finally laughed. That wasn’t like what you had expected either; she had this deep, rough laugh, almost like she was trying to hold it in. 

She looked up at you through her lashes - you tried to ignore the way your heart inexplicably skipped - and said, “I’ll take that as a compliment?” Her voice tilted up at the end like it was a question. Ellie ducked her head down further, looking past you to meet the driver’s eyes, and pulled cash from her back pocket. With her most charming smile, she handed it to the driver and said, “Thanks for getting her here safe.” 

You didn’t see how much money she gave him, but after she took your hand and guided you out of the car, you turned back just in time to see his grin before he sped off. 

“Thanks for coming out.” You looked back at Ellie and found yourself speechless once again. (You, thankfully, were able to hold in the expletive this time.) The worn out jacket that had featured in just about all of her pictures was missing, replaced instead by a pristine, white satin shirt, the top few buttons undone to expose a sliver of collarbone and a gold chain beneath. Despite the chill in the air, she had a classy black jacket hanging from her arm as though it were an accessory. Ellie smiled and looked down, licking her lips before saying, “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes.”

You tried to smile at her but found that your eyes kept flitting behind her, looking at the looming monstrosity of the hotel. It was a nice hotel - the kind that had a huge fountain right in front of it and a chandelier in the lobby that sparkled through the window - but it was a hotel nonetheless. Despite the set in your jaw, traitorous tears stung the corners of your eyes; you wanted to kick yourself for actually thinking that Ellie might be different. 

Ellie followed your gaze over her shoulder, her smile dropping, before she quickly turned back to you with panic in her eyes. She stumbled over her words as though her tongue weren’t cooperating: “Shit, I’m sorry, this looks really bad doesn't it?” She grimaced and squeezed your hand she was still holding, scratching awkwardly at the back of her head with the other. “Fuck, this isn’t the first impression I wanted. I could promise it's not what it looks like, but maybe it'd be better if I just showed you?”

You honestly did think about telling her to fuck off. She was a complete fucking stranger that you only really knew from a dating app, and she was trying to lure you into a hotel in a part of town you were unfamiliar with - really, only an idiot would follow her. 

But she was looking at you with wide green eyes, the lights around you shining back like stars. While searching for the constellations, you found yourself saying, “Okay.” You blinked, pulled from a trance, and added, “But you should know, I do have a taser in my bag.” 

That pulled a shocked laugh from Ellie’s lips. She gently tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the door, and said, “Smart girl.” 

You knew that the hotel was outside of your price range because a perfectly groomed doorman opened the door for you, waving you inside with a gloved hand. You didn’t take much time to process the interior - the chandelier was just as grand as it had seemed from outside and elaborate columns rose to the ceiling - because Elllie was pulling you towards the elevators. It was like she wanted to ignore the fact that she had brought you to a hotel at all. You couldn’t decide if that was reassuring. 

In the empty elevator, you gently drew your hand back and leaned against the wall opposite her. You tried to ignore looking at the way her pinstripe slacks hugged the curves of her thighs, the fabric straining when she propped one booted foot on the wall behind her. 

“So,” you started in a desperate attempt to fill the awkward silence, “if you’re not leading me into a seedy hotel room on the first date, then what are we doing?” 

“Okay, one,” Ellie said, chuckling, “this is anything but a seedy hotel. And two, what kind of a date would it be if I ruined the surprise?” 

“And what if I don’t like surprises?” you countered. 

Ellie grinned. “I think you’ll like this one.” 

When the elevator doors opened, Ellie held her hand out to you as though it were a question. You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand back in hers and letting her lead you out into open air. 

You nearly choked on a gasp. 

The bar itself was beautiful - fairy lights stretched above your head, twinkling like stars and casting the rooftop in a warm glow. Wooden tables and plush couches were spread artfully around the space, far enough apart to provide the patrons scattered about with some privacy. 

The bar was beautiful - but the view was fucking breathtaking. 

The city stretched out beyond the railings, open in a way you had never seen before. The skyline rose around you, each building shining like its own little galaxy amidst a sea of stars. The city lights blocked out the actual stars - a fact that never failed to piss you off - but you could see the crescent of the moon rising over the city, casting a quiet glow like a veil. 

You looked back at Ellie, and whatever your face held made her grin. She leaned in just enough so that her murmur was for your ears only: “So, was I right?” 

You blinked, momentarily distracted by her proximity - she smelled intoxicating, spicy and warm with a hint of tobacco beneath - before you finally said, “What?” 

Ellie snorted, breaking whatever spell she had put you under. “The surprise,” she said, leaning away enough for your head to clear. “Was I right?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek, pursing your lips as though you had to think about it. You couldn’t take your eyes away from the skyline stretched before you. 

You finally said, “That depends on how good the drinks are.” 

When Ellie laughed, her eyes crinkled in the corners, her nose scrunching. It was a full, rich sound, hanging in the air above your head like helium. It made something in your chest tighten, and you wanted nothing more than to hear it again. 

She squeezed your hand, a twinkle in her eye, and said, “The old-fashioned's to die for.” 

You pursed your lips again to hide your smile.

Ellie didn’t bother checking in with the host, simply shot her a smile and a wave as you walked by - you tried to bite back a giggle when you saw the host’s face turn red, her eyes tracking Ellie as she led you to a table right along the edge of the railing. She pulled the chair out for you - “Such a gentleman,” you laughed - before taking the seat opposite you.

As she waved over a waiter, you took a moment to lean your head over the railing. It was made entirely of glass, giving you a clear view of the city below. You could hear the distant sound of traffic, cars racing below you like shiny beetles, but it was like it was coming from a different world altogether. Everything seemed impossibly, wonderfully small from up here. 

You looked up at the sound of your name to find a groomed waiter wearing a fucking waistcoat standing before you. Ellie was looking at you with laughter in her eyes, her lips twitching. 

“Shit, sorry,” you said, immediately flinching at your own curse. You suddenly couldn’t remember the proper etiquette in a fancy bar, feeling out of place and underdressed even in your nicest outfit. You looked between Ellie and the waiter, wracking your brain for any kind of drink that wasn’t a trashy cocktail you’d find at a dive bar. 

Seeing you floundering, Ellie gave you a reassuring smile and said, “Do you like wine?” 

Relief washed over you as you nodded. Turning back to the waiter, Ellie ordered something that you couldn’t even hope to pronounce, charm lifting the corner of her mouth. She spoke to the waiter with the steady ease of familiarity, laughing at some inside joke; you briefly wondered just how often Ellie came to this bar. Surely, a nice place like this - at the very precipice of the world, looking down at the stars - wouldn’t be a regular stop on anyone’s schedule, but Ellie and the staff spoke like old friends. 

When the waiter left, tussling Ellie’s hair playfully, she turned back to you and the awkwardness of a first date finally set in. Sure, you had been texting Ellie every day for a week now, but you still hardly knew the girl. You knew she liked mushrooms and hiking. You knew that most of her clothes were from the thrift store even though she could afford any designer brand she wanted. You knew her favorite video game was Dishonored. But nothing you knew was enough for a relationship. 

But you weren't exactly looking for love, were you? 

After a moment of silence, Ellie cleared her throat, looking out over the city. “It's nice out here.” 

You snorted before you could stop yourself, covering your mouth; it didn't cover the laughter in your eyes. You said, “You're really talking to me about the weather?”

Ellie opened her mouth, an indignant sparkle to her eye, before shutting it again. It was like she was malfunctioning, opening and closing her mouth yet no sound came out. She furrowed her brows, looking at you as though you were something new and interesting, before finally chuckling, looking away. “Yeah, I-I guess I am.” When she looked back up at you, her eyes were surprisingly sheepish. “Not making a great first impression, am I?”

You couldn't stop the smile that crept up to your eyes. You leaned closer, propping your chin in your hand, and said, “I think you're doing okay so far.” 

Ellie laughed that wondrous laugh again, her nose scrunching up, and the cord in your shoulders loosened. 

“Okay,” she sighed, her eyes still alight with residual laughter. “Okay, damn. Tell me about yourself.” 

“Well now this just sounds like a job interview.” 

Ellie threw her hands up in mock frustration, trying to stifle her own grin. “Okay, fuck, knock me down again! You're obviously an expert, so show me how it's done.” 

She leaned back and crossed her arms, looking at you expectantly, and it was the perfect moment for your drinks to arrive. Ellie did, in fact, order an old-fashioned. The waiter set two wine glasses on the table, producing a bottle seemingly from thin air. He held it out, explaining to you in rehearsed prose the year, acidity, and complexity in words that passed straight through you. You nodded along even as you didn't process a single word he said. 

When he left, you turned back to Ellie and said, “How did you find this place?” 

Ellie took a sip of her drink. The lights of the city danced in the amber glass. “Just an old haunt of mine, I guess.” 

You took a sip of the wine, taking the distraction. It was warm on your tongue, tasting of wood and fruit and something spicy just underneath. The wine you usually drank was the stuff you could find in your nearest grocery store, often tasting concerningly like bug spray and bought with whatever tips you had managed to scrape together from work. It was usually shared with a friend on your kitchen floor, the walls and thoughts spinning over your head. 

You much preferred wine like this: The taste of warmth and fire on your tongue, the cool air brushing your shoulders at the edge of the sky, and a beautiful person sitting across from you.

When Ellie lowered her glass, you could see amber droplets of whiskey clinging to her lips before her tongue darted out to catch them. You tore your eyes away, but her smile said that she had caught you staring. A chill ran up your spine that you were sure was just from the cold. 

Seeing you shiver, Ellie wordless reached behind her where she had tossed her jacket over the back of her chair. Standing, she rounded the table only for a moment, only long enough to place the coat over your shoulders. Her hands lingered there for a second too long before she retreated, sliding back into her seat as though she had never moved. 

“So, why are you here?” she finally said. 

You pulled the jacket around your shoulders, distracted by the smell of it. The same smell that must be her perfume clung to it, spiced and warm like an open fire, but something else clung to the fabric too. It was strangely metallic, sharp and intoxicating, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was shockingly warm against your skin. 

“I’m here,” you said, raising a brow and ignoring her real question, “because you sent me this address and told me to meet you here at eight wearing my nicest dress.” 

The corner of Ellie’s lips quirked, a grin she was trying to hide. She clasped her hands, leaning across the table so you could smell the whiskey on her breath. “And you agreed to meet a stranger at a seedy hotel,” she murmured, mocking your remark from earlier. Her grin revealed itself when your cheeks flushed. “But why are you here - what are you seeking?” 

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s kind of a dumb question, don’t you think? It’s pretty obvious why I’m on the app.” You cocked your head, leaning across the table, feeling a strange thrill when her eyes flashed. Your heart fluttered at the proximity, and you couldn’t remember when you had become so easily starstruck. “The real question, Ellie, is why are you?“ 

Ellie’s eyes darkened, and you weren’t sure if you just imagined her eyes flicking down to your lips. She looked back up at you through her lashes, her voice rough when she said, “That’s a third date kind of question.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. “What makes you so sure you’ll get a third date?” 

Ellie tilted her head, a slow smile pulling at her lips, and said, “Call it a hunch.” 

The waiter came to check on you, appearing at your shoulder like a ghost. You hastily retreated, leaning back in your chair as though the electricity in the air had shocked you, and took a sip of wine that was more than a little overzealous. You tried to choke it down as Ellie waved the waiter away with that heartstopping crooked smile. What happened to you? Since when were you so easily charmed by freckles, green eyes, and smart-ass comments? You couldn't remember the last time you had been so infatuated during a normal date, let alone one with these kinds of strings attached. 

“So you don't want to be in an interview,” Ellie said once the waiter was out of earshot. “I guess all my typical getting to know you conversations are out of the question.” 

“I didn't say that,” you countered, your throat still burning from your accidental wine waterboarding. “But come on - what girl are you going to impress by asking her questions like ‘Tell me about yourself,’ or ‘Why are you here?’ or ‘Why are you more qualified for this position?’”

“Okay, okay, goddamn,” she said, laughing. Grabbing the wine bottle, she looked at you for permission before pouring you another glass.

You brought the glass up to your lips, taking a sip to hide your smile. The flush in your cheeks was surely from the wine and nothing else. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“I hardly know you.” On one hand, that felt entirely untrue - but especially after this recent discovery, you really knew nothing about this girl. “Tell me about you.” 

Ellie laughed that same rough laugh and your heart jumped. “Oh, so you're allowed to be the interviewer.” 

You nodded, twirling the glass between your fingers and looking at her expectantly. 

After a moment, Ellie rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, but you could see the humor in her eyes. She downed the last of her old-fashioned and, like a good sport, said, “What do you want to know?”

Turns out, there was a lot to know - more than a simple dating app would tell you. Ellie had an older sister, Sarah, who lived in Dallas. Her dog was named after her childhood best friend. Her jacket wasn't thrifted after all, but had been her dad's. Speaking of which, she used to go hunting with him every season (“I haven't been in years, though,” she said, her eyes distant). On the weekends, she'd go to antique stores to look for art and trinkets to fill her house - her favorite antiques were from the 17th century. She hated horror movies and was a sucker for a good romance. 

In return, you caved and answered her pressing questions. You told her about your best friend - Ellie laughed when you told her that your friend had sent you the link to the app in the first place. You told her about your favorite show that you binge-watched whenever you felt like you were spiraling. You did not tell her about your apartment that was probably the size of her closet or the fact that you'd have to watch your budget after taking the Uber tonight, not to mention the extra $30 Uber to get home later. You did tell her about your family, and a strange, unexplained sadness crept into the creases around her mouth. You did tell her about your job, but didn't mention the second one you worked to afford groceries. You told her you were hoping for a real, human connection, yet didn't mention that you couldn’t imagine finding it in a fucking sugar mommy. 

All too soon, the wine bottle was empty and your chest was comfortingly warm. The lights strung across the bar danced above your head like fuzzy stars, and Ellie's smile was the brightest amongst them. Her glass was still empty, her wine glass dry, and yet her eyes told you she was intoxicated by something far stronger. 

“Sorry,” you said, giggling despite yourself. “I didn't mean to drink it all.” 

“Don't worry about it, darling,” she said, her voice silky smooth, reminding you of melted chocolate sliding down your throat. She tilted her glass, letting the remnants of melting ice clink against the side. “I wanted to make sure I could drive home okay.” 

The waiter arrived then, pulling the bill from his pocket and handing it to Ellie. You couldn't read the number upside down, not through the haze of the wine, but the number of digits made your stomach clench. Ellie dropped a black card into the folder and handed it back to the waiter. 

“How much do you want me to Venmo you?” you asked when she turned back to you. You clenched your hands in the hem of your dress, already calculating the extra shift you'd have to pick up to afford it. 

Ellie tilted her head, her brows furrowed. “Nothing,” she said, as though it were obvious. 

“That wasn't exactly a cheap bottle, Ellie,” you laughed. “Let me give you something.” 

Ellie hummed, propping her chin in her hand and looking at you with those same intense eyes; it sent a dangerous shiver down your spine. “I like when you say my name.”

You blinked at her. “Excuse me.” 

“I want to hear it again. That's how you can repay me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ellie, I-” 

“Okay, now we're even,” she interrupted, smiling that crooked grin that you had started to crave. The waiter returned with her card and Ellie produced cash from her pocket, handing it to the waiter directly. He thanked her profusely before making his exit, grinning. When Ellie looked at you again, you were still watching her expectantly, dumbfounded. She finally rolled her eyes. “Seriously, what kind of date would I be if I made you pay?”

“You're not making me, I'm offering.” 

“And I'm saying no.” Ellie stood, straightening her shirt; when she tugged at it, the collar fell a bit, exposing sharp collarbones beneath. 

Rounding the table, she offered a hand to you, pulling you gently to your feet. You pulled her jacket tighter around yourself, knowing you needed to give it back yet unwilling to part with it just yet. 

Taking your arm, Ellie leaned in close enough that your breath caught in your throat and said, “I know why I found you on Seeking, okay? So, if it's alright with you, let me spoil you. Even if that just means one bottle of wine.” 

You laughed, but it sounded breathy even to your own ringing ears. “One very expensive bottle of wine.”

Ellie shrugged, a sparkle in her eye. “It's a small price to pay for your company.”

You were silent in the elevator, but you held on to her arm as though afraid to let go. You couldn't figure out why, but something in you urgently wanted nothing more than to be close to her. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt such a pull from somebody. 

Back on the street, the lights of the city seemed so much brighter than they had before. Ellie released your arm, turning to face you, and there was a strange pinch between her brows that you couldn't translate. 

“Do you want me to call you an Uber, or do you want me to take you home?” she asked, and your brain short-circuited. When you could do nothing but stammer, tripping over your own tongue, Ellie laughed. There was no mockery behind it, only quiet, bright amusement. “I meant I can drive you to your apartment so you don't have to drunkenly sit in an awkward Uber that smells sickeningly sweet and the driver tries to make mind-numbing small talk.” 

Your sigh of relief came out more like a laugh. 

Ellie tilted her head and stepped closer to you, her hand reaching out to graze your fingers, and that sigh was sucked right back into your lungs. Being so close to her made your head spin. Her breath fanned against your cheeks, smelling of warm whiskey, when she said, “Unless you want to come to my place?”

It had the uncertain tilt of a question, and Ellie wouldn't quite meet your eyes. 

“We don't have to do anything,” she continued in a rush. She scratched anxiously at the back of her head, a nervous laugh slipping between her lips. “We can just sit and talk more. Or watch a movie - my dad had this huge collection. I'm not gonna - You know, I'm not going to do anything you don't want.” She finally interrupted herself with a groan, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “Fuck, sorry, I wanted it to sound more suave than this.” 

And you would be a fucking idiot to go home with this impossible stranger. You had been taught better - never get into a stranger's car, and for the love of God, never let them take you to a second location. You could let her take you back to your apartment at least - you were admittedly incredibly tipsy and didn't particularly want to endure another ride with an annoyingly talkative Uber driver. You could go home, back to your claustrophobic, quiet apartment, and maybe - maybe - text  Ellie about setting up a second date. 

You were not stupid enough to go home with somebody on the first date. 

Except clearly you were, because you took the hand that was still grazing your fingers and looked up at Ellie - the contours of her face were shockingly etched with insecurity. And your dumb mouth said, of its own volition, “Okay.”

You had expected something flashy, like what a wealthy person would own in a movie - like a penthouse overlooking the city with too-white walls and electric guitars hanging, unused, on the walls. Maybe she had walls completely made of windows so it felt like you were on a pedestal overlooking the world. 

You hadn't expected a house that was older than your great-grandparents. 

When Ellie pulled into the driveway, you were sure she was just pulling in someplace to turn around, that she had missed her turn somewhere. But she put her stupidly-expensive car into park and killed the engine, shooting you an awkward glance. 

“Sorry,” she said, chuckling. “I know it’s not much.” 

You could only look at her incredulously, speechless, before looking back up at the house before you. You couldn’t even call it a house really - estate would be more fitting. Maybe mansion. Fuck, her house was the size of your apartment complex. It towered over you, three stories of intricate woodwork, warm brown beams wrapping around the structure like an elaborate skeleton. With beautiful eaves winding around the roof and an entire turret reaching for the moon, it looked like something that had stepped right out of some 1800s southern gothic novel. 

Ellie cleared her throat, startling you from a trance. You looked back at her and, for some reason, couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

”Shit, sorry,” you said, covering your mouth with your hand. “I just - I’ve just never seen anything like it.” When Ellie’s eyes clouded over with uncertainty, you added softly, “It’s beautiful. Besides, Ellie,” you added, laughing again, “‘not much’ doesn’t really suit you.” 

Ellie opened and closed her mouth and yet no words came out. She was looking at you again as though you were something interesting - something new and exciting. Nobody had ever looked at you that way before, and the way your heart clenched at the sight was more than a little dangerous. 

Ellie finally smiled, huffing out a laugh - your heart was pretty satisfied with how often you were able to make her laugh - and said, “Do you still want to come inside?” 

And, surprisingly, you said, “Yeah, I do.” 

As Ellie got out, rounding the car to open your door for you, you discreetly checked that the taser was still in your bag. Sure, you had agreed to go home with a practical stranger, but you couldn't be too careful. 

The porch steps creaked as she led you to the door - double doors (of course), with stained glass and twisting vines carved into the wood. When Ellie opened them, it felt like you were transported to a different time on an entirely different world. 

The grand staircase caught your eye first - how could it not? Warm wooden steps covered in a blood red runner, a white banister winding up, those same vines that seemed to be the house’s signature carved into it. You could see a large, stained-glass window at the landing before it curved to disappear to the second floor. Moonlight splintered through the window in broken relief. 

As though in a trance, you wandered further into the house, walking to the fireplace situated right beneath the stairs. The wood stacked neatly inside was cold, untouched by a flame. There was a large mirror set atop the mantle, its gold frame a work of art alone. In the reflection, you could see the flush to your cheeks, and tried to convince yourself it was only from the cold. You still wore Ellie’s jacket, and you pulled it tight around your shoulders, as though it were a shield. 

You watched Ellie’s reflection as she walked slowly towards you, a small smile gracing her lips. She came close enough to touch - close enough that you could feel her cool breath against the back of your neck - and yet she didn’t put a hand on you. 

“There’s a lot more to see than the foyer,” she murmured, the words brushing your skin. “If you still want.” 

And you couldn’t stop your own smile as you turned back to her, your heart skipping at her proximity. “Show me.” 

She took your hand, her fingers shockingly cold, and led you into what must have been her living room - sitting room? Despite the fact that the house felt more like a museum - like you would get scolded for touching anything - the room was surprisingly cozy. A large, plush sectional was situated in front of another fireplace- this one also unblemished. Blankets and quilts were thrown over the couch and the accompanying chairs, leaving this time capsule looking strangely welcoming. 

“Okay, I have to ask,” you said, turning back to Ellie. She was watching you carefully, gauging your reaction with soft eyes, and you lost your train of thought. You opened your mouth but no sound came out; you weren’t sure if that was more or less embarrassing than the several curses you had said earlier in the night. 

Ellie hummed, raising her hand as though she wanted to touch you. She stopped only inches away from your cheek and dropped her hand, saying, “I’m an open book.” 

You had to turn away to collect your thoughts, wandering across the room if just to catch your breath. The opposite wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. You ran your fingers along the spines of vintage classics, an array of science books, and comics, enjoying the irony of seeing Savage Starlight in the middle of all this history. You picked up a copy to keep your hands busy. 

“How, um,” you started, stumbling over your words, “how did you end up here?” 

Ellie hummed again, and you heard her footsteps following you. “Here as in this town, this country, this world? You gotta be a little more specific.” 

You sighed, giving in and turning to look at her. She kept a careful distance, standing a few feet away from you with her hands in her pockets. “You know what I mean, smartass.”

Ellie chuckled, but her eyes had grown distant, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She took a few more steps closer to you, looking at the comic book in your hands. On the app, she hadn’t struck you as the type to get easily bashful, and yet she had proven you wrong a few times already. 

“My family lived here,” she finally said, quiet as a secret. You watched her carefully, jumping at the opportunity to stare at her without those intense eyes looking back at you. Her brow furrowed and she pressed her lips together as though she was in pain, her green eyes shining. “It was just… passed down, I guess? It’s kind of always been here ever since I can remember. I’m not entirely sure when it became mine.” 

You tucked the comic book back into its spot between The Iliad and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You said absently, “How old is this place anyway?”

”It was built in 1816,” she said automatically, as though it were memorized. 

“It’s an awfully big house for just one person.” You looked up at her through your lashes as she stepped closer - close enough that you could smell that same metallic warmth that seemed to cling to her. 

“It is,” Ellie murmured, smiling. She reached out again, and this time she allowed herself to touch you. Her cold fingers brushed against your cheek before she gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head so you’d look at her properly. Her green eyes were downright intimidating. “But I keep good company.” 

You rolled your eyes, yet you couldn’t convince yourself to look away. “Is that what you say to all the girls?” 

Ellie hummed, bracing her other hand on the bookshelf behind your head, and murmured, “No, I don’t.” She pressed in closer, her gaze dropping to your mouth, and you felt like your heart was going to leap from your throat. Ellie huffed out a laugh as though she could hear it pounding against your chest. When her thumb brushed your bottom lip, your lips parted on instinct. She didn’t look away, transfixed on the point where her skin touched your mouth, and you almost didn’t hear her when she said, “Can I?” 

And you had never been the kind of person to kiss on the first date, but she was looking at you with eyes hooded with want, her breath fanning against your cheeks. When she licked her lips, you couldn’t stop your eyes from following the motion. Her lips glistened, parted and plump, looking so impossibly soft. Somehow, past your haze, you heard yourself say, “Yes.” 

Ellie took her time in kissing you. She pressed you back gently, your shoulders pressing into the bookshelf behind you, and touched her nose to yours. She took a deep breath, breathing you in. Her hand was soft against your cheek, tilting your jaw up, and you hardly had to move to finally kiss her. 

Ellie tasted just like she smelled - spicy and metallic, the old-fashioned still hanging on her tongue. Despite the cold of her hand on your cheek, her mouth was impossibly warm, her breath slipping between your lips; it was intoxicating in a way that the wine couldn’t compare to. Her mouth moved against yours, soft and slow as a dance. 

Your hands reached out as though of their own accord, circling her waist and gripping at the slippery silk of her shirt. She pressed in close, crowding you against the bookshelf; you could feel her chest pressing against you, her hips on yours, the line of her body against yours making your head spin. And when Ellie’s tongue pressed against your lips, a gentle request for access, you felt like you’d faint altogether. 

Her tongue slipped between your teeth and you couldn’t stop the breathy sound it pulled from your throat. You could feel that infuriating smile against your lips and suddenly wanted nothing more than to wipe it away. You balled her ridiculously expensive shirt in your hands and pulled her impossibly closer, nipping at her bottom lip, and you wanted to swallow her gasp. 

Ellie pulled away, chuckling, but she didn’t go far. She pressed a kiss to your cheek, her lips trailing down to your jaw, and she could probably feel your pulse jump beneath her tongue. You could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Do you do this often?” 

Her teeth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear, and it took you a few moments before you could respond. “Do what?” Despite yourself - despite the way your fingers gripped her shirt, your head swimming and an unexplainable want burning in your veins - you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go on a date with somebody I met on an app for sugar babies and go back to their ridiculously old mansion on the first date and-“ 

You cut yourself off. You weren’t sure exactly what was happening, and you were afraid that voicing it would break whatever spell you were under - whatever spell made this impossible woman’s touch feel like lightning. 

But Ellie only laughed, biting at the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “Yeah, that.” 

You shivered against her touch. “No, I’ve never really done this.” 

“Guess I’m just lucky.” 

Ellie kissed you again, only briefly, before she finally pulled away. She was grinning, her eyes sparkling with those same constellations; her face wasn’t even flushed, making you feel embarrassed about your burning cheeks. You were panting, intoxicated from the night and wine and Ellie. Her absence felt like an ache, your body craving the feeling of her lips, her teeth, her hands. You were close to tugging her back in, your hands still gripping her shirt, but she gently untangled herself from you with a laugh. 

“I want to keep going.” She paused, and then emphasized, “I really want to keep going. But you drank an entire bottle of wine, and I’d be kind of a shitty host if I didn’t offer you something to drink at least. Or are you hungry?” 

You were hungry, but it was the kind of hunger that food wouldn’t satiate. Still, you let your hands drop back to your sides, feeling your senses return to you now that they weren’t so tuned into Ellie - how she smelled, tasted, felt. When you laughed, it sounded breathy even to your own ears. “Some water would be nice.” 

“I can do that,” she said with a smile. “Stay here.” She kissed you again, lingering for a few moments longer than needed, before she turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone in this ridiculously old mansion. 

With nothing else to keep yourself entertained, you did a slow lap around the room, eyeing the ironic blend of elegant antiques and silly trinkets that were so obviously Ellie. A cracked ivory trinket box sat on a shelf, intricate flowers engraved into the lid, set right next to a small figurine of an astronaut. Beautiful paintings lined the walls, signatures dating back to 1830 in elaborate script at the bottom, but there were also a few posters littered here and there - bands and video games. 

You walked over to the mantle, your fingers grazing over the marble top. The logs inside were untouched, and you briefly wondered if she’d light a fire soon to chase out the chill of autumn. A small jar filled with guitar picks sat at the corner, and you wondered if she really did have an electric guitar collection hidden around here somewhere. Your foot kicked an empty dog bowl, and yet Riley was nowhere to be found. Maybe Ellie took her to daycare when she knew she’d bring a girl home. You nearly laughed at the idea. 

Atop the mantle, hidden behind pictures of what must have been friends or family - hiking or traveling or laughing in somebody’s backyard - there was another picture frame. It must have fallen, face down so that the picture inside was covered. You reached out, careful to not disturb any of the other frames, and picked it up. You were just going to fix it, set it up next to the others, but something in the image caught your eye. You plucked it from its home, bringing it closer, holding it up to the light to get a better look. For a long time, you couldn’t figure out what you were looking at. Your heart hammered against your chest, your ears ringing, as though your body had figured it out before your brain did. 

It was an old photograph, grainy and sepia, faded and frayed around the edges with age. It was the house, looking just like it did today - the huge windows shining in the sunlight, the intricate eaves and wrap-around porch perfectly polished and new. A family stood on the lawn in front of the house, looking awkward and stiff. Back then, cameras took several minutes to actually capture a photo, so people tended to look a little awkward from trying to hold the same expression for so long. But that’s not what had caught your eye. 

It was a small family - a weary looking dad and his two daughters, looking just a few years younger than you. 

She looked a little different. Her hair was longer, falling in waves around her shoulders. She was definitely a few years younger, and she wore a sweet, full-length gown instead of a worn leather jacket. 

You checked the date in the bottom corner at least five times, but there was no mistaking it. The person in the photo was undeniably Ellie, standing in front of this house in 1816. 

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @peejayurple @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight @hobbybound

[angel-eyes05]

a line drawn in red

pairing: wade wilson x fem!reader

summary: you and your across the door neighbor have a complicated relationship with each other. things only seem to grow more murky after you invite him to a work party to embarrass your ex.

warnings: nsfw mdni 18+, friends with benefits, mentions of oral sex, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up guys), angry sex at the beginning, very sweet and tender at the end, pre-mutation deadpool cause lowkey i need to see ryan reynold's face in my mind lol, fake dating idk its confusing, wade's a bit of a rebound for a little bit, ever so slight dirty talk, wade using stupid little cringey pet names, pansexual deadpool moments because i love my canon king, you can see my wade wilson headcanons LOUD AND CLEARRRR here rip

word count: 6.8k (this is my longest fic to date are you guys happy)

notes: heyyyyyy so funny story i was meant to post this in like july/august when deadpool and wolverine came out to jump on the trend buttttt i got really burnt out as soon as i got to the smut part of this and then dropped it....BUT I FOUND THIS AGAIN AND FINISHED IT SO WE'RE ALL GOOD this is gonna get zero interaction cause the trend is over but ykw idc i really like what i did here so i hope you enjoy lol. i also did not really proofread this i was too excited to post it lol

dividers by: @cafekitsune

Apartment searching was probably the worst part of the breakup. Which was saying a lot considering how hard you took his news. Raoul and you had been together for about 6 and a half years, and had even gone as far as to move in with each other. It seemed like a good trade off, considering how much the two of you would be saving on rent. And with his parents being filthy rich and owning about half the apartment buildings in Manhattan, the two of you picked a particularly nice one.

Life seemed to be sailing by on calm waters. You had finally moved out of your shitty apartment with your shitty roommate and in with the love of your life, Raoul's stiff parents seemed to finally be warming up to you. To top it all off, you had finally scored a promotion at work. Coming from a less than steady foundation as a child, moving up in your work was something you prided yourself on greatly. It didn't pay as much as Raoul's did, but you loved what you did, and were damn good at it. That was enough.

It never was for him though. Not for his reputation. Or better yet, his parents'. Which is exactly what caused the breakup. "You know how my mother is, she's never going to be happy as long as I'm dating someone with your background." The words still rang in your ears. Your background. The words tasted like rotten fish. Just as you thought he was getting ready to pop the question to you also. He had the decency to let you stay in the apartment until you found your own, but you could tell pity was the fuel behind that fire.

You wanted a place in the city, close to work, but that proved incredibly difficult. After what felt like years of looking at "fixer-uppers" and failed bargain attempts, you finally found one. Was it nice? No. It was a tiny studio, with the only room separate from the main area being a minuscule bathroom. The view was shit, the lights flickered like a disco, and it was a mission to get hot water. But it was a three minute walk from your work building and was the cheapest room you had found so far, so you decided to settle.

You kept to yourself the first week after you moved in, only really leaving to go to work and do your laundry. Your friends had begged you to go out and explore the city with them, but you couldn't seem to drag yourself out of bed. You had been so busy apartment shopping in the past few months that you forgot to do something: Mourn your relationship. The minute you placed down the last bowl in the cabinet, the waves of grief crashed on top of you instantaneously.

Would it have worked out if you came from money? You try not to think about how the answer is most likely yes.

One late night while you're wrapped up and crying in your bedsheets, you hear the first knock on your door since you've moved in. You instinctually bury yourself further in the covers, praying the knocking will stop and whoever's at the door will get bored and go away.

It doesn't.

With a groan, you mosey out of bed, throw on a pair of pants, and answer the door. Rubbing your eyes, you find yourself looking at your neighbor. You had seen him a few times in the hallway when you would take down your dirty laundry, but you didn't pay much attention to him. He seemed to be in and out of the building, which was probably why you didn't even know his name. He was pretty tall, had light brown hair that was just long enough to not be considered a buzzcut, and a little scar slashing across his right eyebrow.

"Listen, I know this is weird and I know we haven't even met properly yet, but my microwave short circuited and I've been looking forward to chowing down on this burrito all day and I think if I don't get to eat it, I'll genuinely go crazy and destroy this entire apartment building."

You had to be delirious or something, there was no way he was jumping out of the gate with his first introduction to you like this. But low and behold, he lifted up the tin foil wrapped burrito next to your face as evidence for his dilemma. "With the power of whatever sick fuck looking down on us from up there, can I PLEASEEEEEE use your microwave?" he downright begged.

You took about 15 seconds to just stare at him and comprehend what just happened. "And you thought I was the best person to ask for this? Not any of the other ten people who live on this floor?" you asked bluntly. He scoffed at you.

"Well, for your information missy, it's a pretty well known fact that most people are away in dreamville at you know, 2:30 in the morning. And I've had a habit of noticing you like to have your tv blaring around this time of night, while not many other people on this floor do. So, using my beautiful detective skills, I came to the conclusion that you're the only other person up right now. And guess what! I was right!" This guy was weird.

You groaned and rubbed your face. "And you know, how else was I going to find an excuse to finally introduce myself to the hot girl who just moved across the hall to me." You glared at his cheesy comment, while he flashed a fake smile and waved the burrito next to his face.

You sighed, knowing you'd probably regret this. "In and out," you said, moving out of the doorframe and letting him inside. "Oh my god if you had a dick I would suck it so good right now," he exclaimed as he rushed inside like a little school boy, making his way right to the microwave and popping in the burrito. You took a second to comprehend his comment. "Yeah yeah whatever," is what you decided to reply with, not having the energy to argue with the man.

You slopped down on one of the chairs placed at your kitchen island, and substitution for a table, and let your head rest on the table while you waited for the man to leave. He leaned against the countertop while he waited for his burrito. You could feel the vibrations of his fingers tapping against the counter. "What do you want," you groaned. "How long ago?" he asked, shortly. "What?" "How long ago did they dump you?" Your head shot up off the counter. "Excuse me?" He smirked. Almost like his goal was to piss you off. "You had a partner, probably guy, definitely long term, he was rich, you weren't, parents got in the way, and you got kicked to the curb."

Clocked you from a mile away.

The sounds of the beeping microwave echoed in the uncomfortably silent room.

"Get your food and get out." "Someone's not very hospitable," he snarked. You got off the chair, walked up to the man, and slapped him across the cheek. "You come banging on my door at 2 in the morning, don't even have the decency to introduce yourself, you use up my appliances, and then you flat out insult me?!?! Kicking you out is probably the nicest thing I could do right now!" you shouted. He turned his head back to face you, staring dead into your eyes. You weren't sure if you were frightened, infuriated, or turned on by his look.

"Let me show you a better time," he groveled into your ear. Jesus, why couldn't it be daylight outside.

In the day, you have control over yourself. The sun gives you a sense of clarity, almost like the light shines in on your brain and gives you the ability to make good decisions. During the night hours, you still know good from bad. It's just much harder for you to stop yourself from going the wrong way.

He must have heard the way your breath hitched, because you could hear the slight snicker he let out shortly after. He could see you were still debating it though. "Listen. This is up to you. But just so I can plead my case, you're one of the most beautiful people I've seen in my whole life, and I work around a lot of hotties, so thats saying something." "You're losing me, tiger," you cut him off. He stutters and regains his footing. "I'd hate to see someone as beautiful as you get thrown off their game cause of some jerk who didn't know what he had until he lost it. I've seen it too many times and I'd hate to see it happen to you too."

You lean in a little, ears perking up. "I personally think, I can give you a better time than he ever could. So, we're gonna do this. If I'm better than he was, you gotta promise me that you'll get back out there. Capeesh?" You closed your eyes and rubbed your bridge. He leans into your ear. "And if you like it enough, who knows, I'd be down to make this into a thi-." "Just let me think!" you push him off you. He backs up, grabs his burrito from out of the microwave, and starts munching.

This is stupid. This is so stupid. It had only been three months since you and Raoul finished, but you were so ready to get into bed with this basically stranger. You honestly just wanted him to stop bugging you. But all things considered, at least he was an attractive rebound. And he seemed to know the situation and what this meant. You just needed a distraction at this point. From everything, and especially Raoul. This was sure to do that. Besides, what did you have to lose? Definitely not your dignity.

You looked over to see him eating his burrito. God you were so pathetic, this was actually turning him on. The way his mouth was gently moving around it. You were getting wet just thinking about the way it would maneuver around your folds. Fuck. This was really your decision wasn't it. Made by the way a man eats his burrito. Pathetic.

"Fine." He looked up from his meal. "Just this once though," you added. "Yeah whatever, we'll see how you feel when we're done," he teased. You grabbed his arm and led him to your bed on the other side of the apartment. You slowly stripped off your pants and underwear, agreeing with him that you could keep your shirt on. The next hour or so was full of pure adrenaline and ecstasy. He knew how to press every single one of your buttons as his mouth worked wonders on your pussy. You had the unfortunate feeling that you would be seeing him again after this.

Once he finished another round on your clit, he wiped his mouth and stuck his hand out to you from in between your legs. "Wade Wilson. Apartment D05." You couldn't help but giggle at the silly gesture. You then stated your name and apartment number and shook Wade's hand. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Wilson." "Oh please, Mr. Wilson was my father, call me Wade. And the pleasure is all mine of course." He flashed a big smile when you giggled at his joke and dove right back into your pussy. The two of you kept going until the sun came up.

The two of you made an agreement after that night. If either one of you was sexually frustrated, lonely, or just plain horny, you two would go down on each other. Friends with benefits or something like that. Cause the two of you did talk to each other outside of sex too. Wade was a funny guy. He had his sweet moments too, despite being pretty brash. But man was he annoying.

He had a problem with never knowing when to shut up. This was a pattern during sex also. As more and more sessions went on, you noticed him becoming more and more vocal. Taking breaks to talk to your pussy while he would eat you out, striking up a conversation with you while you had a mouth full of dick. "Wade, I swear to God, if you want me to actually finish you off, you better shut the fuck up," you found yourself saying most nights, wiping his precum off your mouth. "Oh trust me sweetheart, women have left me hanging in worse situations," he would tease back.

Some nights you found yourself finishing off angrier than when you started. The two of you argued a lot. Mostly over dumb shit. Wade had a knack for pissing you off. Whether it was stealing things from your apartment, being too loud with the other people he would bring to his apartment, or just being plain forgetful with plans. Almost every outing to a club would end up with the two of you drunkly screaming at each other. But man, the way he would work on your swollen pussy with his tongue afterwards. You found yourself easily forgiving him move of the time. His argument was strong after all.

There was a set list of rules the two of you followed though. For boundaries sake. "We keep it to your apartment," he added as you wrote down details on a notepad. "Ugh, why mine?" you whined. "Cause mine's too dirty and I know your clean freak ass would have a heart attack upon seeing it." True, the way he talked about his apartment made it seem like a breeding ground for a STD. "And let me guess, you're too lazy to clean it up?" you jab back. "Hit the nail right on the head, darling!" he smiled sarcastically, taking a light swipe at your chin.

"Whatever, my turn. I don't want any you know...actual sex stuff." Wade raised his eyebrow. "What do you mean?" You shrugged your shoulders, a little embarrassed. "I don't know, just like...I'd rather stick to the oral stuff I guess." Wade couldn't help but snicker. "What, you scared my dick's too big to fit in it or something?" "No, asshole!" you shouted, bopping the top of his head with the notepad. "It just feels...too personal I guess," you said, beet red.

What Wade didn't know was that going that far was just too intimate for you right now. You already felt guilty enough getting into this "relationship" with this man you barely know after just getting out of an almost seven year relationship. You didn't want Wade to feel like some kind of rebound. Even if he kinda was. You weren't sure if he even cared though. For all you know, he was just happy to get some pussy.

"Whatever, your loss cupcake," Wade shook off. "Fine then, I get my own special condition." "Hit me," you said, sitting up. "No kissing." "What?!" you shouted. "That's so stupid, thats no where near the same level as mine! Mine is at least a little understandable!" "Hey, you have your reasons, I have mine," Wade argued. "Fine....You'll still kiss up on my pussy though, won't you Wade?" you asked, grabbing him by his shirt collar and pulling him in closer to you. "Well what else is it there for, certainly not for sticking my dick in," he teased. You gave his already erect dick a smack and dragged him down into you bed, taking off his pants for your next session.

The next couple of months looked exactly like this, with a few trauma dumps in between of course. This was comfortable. You were still getting action, but nothing too much or serious. And Wade was a good guy for you. Or for this at least. Sometimes you would sit and wonder if the two of you could, you know, become more than this. An actual couple. Wade was your best friend. Yeah, he was a little shit, but he had been there for you more than anyone else before. He understood where you came from, because he came from the same roots. Him being really hot helped too you know.

But you could never be sure if he felt the same way. You weren't sure if he was the type for an actual relationship. Yeah, your crush on him seemed to grow bigger with each passing day, but this was easier for the both of you. Not ideal. But again. Comfortable.

Things started to change really fast though when a certain instagram story crossed your feed. "That bitch!" Wade heard you shout while out at Weasel's bar. "What now, someone twist up your panties?" Wade sarcastically added. You flip your phone over him show to one of your work friends with her new boyfriend.

A fourth month anniversary hard launch. "No way, is that him?" He asked, picking up the clues quickly. You nodded silently. You had failed to mention your past relationships to your friend Clarissa, so she must have thought he was some stranger or something. You had no idea how they met and started dating, but Raoul had seemed to come back into your life as soon as he left it. And you knew for a fact you'd be seeing him soon.

"I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do about this stupid party," you repeated to Wade as you paced your apartment floor, topless. Wade sat back on your bed, sipping on a beer bottle, his pants off. "He's definitely gonna be there, it's a Holiday party for God's sake! Everyone always goes to those stupid parties! And of course everyone goes with their partners so of course Clarissa is gonna bring him!" "And why do you have to go?" Wade asked calmly. You stopped pacing. "Because Wade my promotion basically lies in the hands of me making a good impression, which means going to every work function they've got. Valentine's Day dance, Thanksgiving dinner, and especially the Winter Gala," you recited.

You flopped on top of the bed in anger, letting out fake, annoyed sobs. Wade groaned, set his beer bottle on the nightstand, and lifted your face up with his two cupped hands. "If I go with you will that shut you up?" You stopped your fake tantrum and sat up. "Um, are you being serious with me right now?" He nodded. "Is that not asking too much? I mean like...I don't know if it's typical for someone to go to a work party with their friend with benefits," you brought up.

Wade cleared his throat. "Well, we don't have to tell anyone that. As far as your employers, and especially Raoul, know...we're dating." You sat to yourself and thought for a minute. It'd be nice to have someone accompany you to the torturous party. And plus, making Raoul jealous would be a bonus. "That wouldn't be too much? Like what about the whole no kissing thing, isn't it weird for a couple to not kiss?" you asked. "Hey, couples don't kiss all the time! And plus, we can still hold hands and stuff. Just the bare minimum. But I think it could work." He watched you as the smile grew more and more onto your face. You leaped into his arms, embracing him. "Oh, thank you thank you thank you Wade! You don't know what this means!"

Wade took a second, but he tightly wrapped his arms around your back and tightened the hug. "Anything for my favorite girl," he said quietly next to your ear. Neither of you let go for a while, taking each other in. For two people who had sex with each other about three times a week, this was the most intimate you had been. You could tell how serious it was by how quiet Wade was.

His breath was calm and steady, matching up almost perfectly to yours. Your head sat perfectly on the nook where his neck met his shoulders. But as soon as you begun to tighten your grip on him, he cleared his throat and let go. "I think I'm owed a good dick sucking for my good deeds," he awkwardly brought up. It took you a second to regain what was going on, after being so thrown off by Wade's sudden display of intimacy. "Oh...Oh! Oh you bet your ass," you recovered. Wade rubbed his hands together, almost like a corny cartoon villain as you lowered yourself down to his thick shaft.

You furiously tapped your fingers on your phone as you waited for a "ready to go" response from Wade. You added the final touches to your outfit. You spent a good chunk of your savings on your outfit for tonight, dead set on your revenge à la jealousy. The red velvet dressed you purchased hugged perfectly onto each of your curves and the string of thick pearls was cherry on top. You finally got the okay text from Wade, so you picked up your small clutched and jumped out of your apartment, knocking on Wade's door.

It was a sight you had never seen before. Wade W. Wilson was wearing a suit. A warm feeling flooded into your heart, seeing him make such an effort for the occasion. The tight fitted pants he was wearing brought a different type of warmth into your body. You noticed he was staring at you in a similar way, scanning the way the dress sculpted your frame. But the look on his face wasn't the normal lust filled eyes you had seen so many times before. It was different. Before you could decipher what exactly it was, Wade cut in. "How much did that dress cost?" You paused. "...You don't wanna know."

The taxi ride there was filled with repetitions of your master plan. Wade didn't seem to be paying much attention. It didn't matter though, as long as your head was in the game, this was sure to work.

You stepped out of the taxi and took in the view of the venue in front of you. You drew in a deep breath and found Wade standing next to you. "You ready party princess?" he asked, holding his arm out to wrap yours around. You smiled up at him and lock yours in. "Ready as I'll ever be playboy."

Most of the party was filled with shallow conversations with employers, bad music, and drinking. Lots of drinking. And then you saw him. You almost sprayed your cocktail out of your mouth at the sight. Your first instinct was to start smacking Wade's shoulder. "Jesus christ woman what is it?!?!" Wade shouted. You made a pointing gesture with your eyes towards Raoul. Wade follows your eyes. "Damn, I can see what kept you locked in for so long." "It sounds like you're begging for a trip to the hospital right now," you threatened. "Sorry, he just has a beautiful ass," Wade continued to tease. "Shame he's only into broke ass girls. Like you." "Can you stop being an asshole for once and focus!"

Wade rolled his eyes, put down his drink and pulled you out onto the dance floor. "What are you doing?" you confusedly whispered. "Going along with the plan," he said, not making eye contact with you. He put one of his hands on your hip and the other locked with yours. It surprised you how good of a dancer he turned out to be. He was light on his feet, swaying along to the rhythm of the music.

You naturally fell into his movements. You took moments of your dance with Wade to look over in Raoul's direction. He seemed fairly preoccupied with Clarissa, understandably. Your frustration laid clear on your face. Wade must have noticed, because next thing you know, he's twirling you and sends you into a dip. His face lit up at the sight of your sudden smile.

You look to your right and see exactly what you wanted. Raoul staring dead set on you on the dance floor. In an ditzy stupor you turn your face back to Wade. "I need you to kiss me." "What?" "Wade please just this once I swear, he's looking at us right now." He took a second to think, rolled his eyes, and placed a peck on your lips.

It didn't feel how you expected it to. He was rough, and mean with it. He brought you back up from the dip, roughly grabbed your wrist and dragged you back to the table with your drinks. You took a second to regain your footing. Wade downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. He looked shaken, upset even. "Are you okay?" you asked. Before he had the chance to respond, you noticed his eyes dart behind you. With record timing, you felt a tap on your shoulder and spin around.

Oh my god.

"I had a feeling that was you out on the dance floor," he said, in that smug tone he always used to use. You sighed to yourself. "Hi Raoul, it's been a minute." Catching you off guard, he pulls you in to a one armed hug, and lets go before you're able to reciprocate it. "Wait you know each other?" Clarissa asked, locked in on his arm.

Raoul starts first. "Um, yeah we were-" "We hung out at frat parties back in college," you cut in. It technically wasn't a lie. You just would rather spare yourself the embarrassment from her. Raoul didn't correct you, just a simple nod. "Aw, that's so cute!" Clarissa said. "Raoul's got so many friends I can hardly keep up at this point." Clarissa's high pitched giggle rang through your ears and you tried to keep a smile plastered on your face. "Oh I'm sure," you quietly added, getting a stink eye from Raoul in the meantime. God, you wish you didn't finish your drink earlier.

Raoul's eyes moved behind you. "I'm sorry, I didn't manage to get your name," he gestured to Wade. "Oh, that's Wade, he's my-" "Partner," he cut you off, moving up next to you and taking your hand. You squeezed it tightly, as a silent thank you. "Oh my god, congratulations!" Clarissa said. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend." "Yeah, we decided to wait until six months to go around posting about it and stuff," you added. "We would've waited longer, but I was too excited to keep it to myself any longer, isn't that right my love," Clarissa said, gently patting Raoul's jawline. "That's right my darling."

Just before taking Clarissa for a long, wet, uncomfortable kiss, you could feel a split second moment of eye contact between you and Raoul. Chills overtook your body. He was so...

Cold.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to excuse myself for a moment. It was great seeing you Clarissa," you quickly spat out before rushing away from the scene. You could hear who you hoped was Wade's footsteps leading close behind you. He called out your name for attention while you ran down the stairs, into the lobby, and out the door. "What the fuck was that? You just don't talk to me?" Wade questioned as you looked out onto the sidewalk for a taxi. "Not now Wade," you pushed him off. You could barely focus. Your mind was running a mile a minute, your heart pounding like a freight train. Who knew all it took to send you back months of healing was one look.

"This was a bad idea," you said to yourself. "Anyone could've told you that," you heard Wade say under his breath. Not in control of your actions, your hand quickly reacted, whipping itself across his cheek. It left a bright red mark on his face as Wade quickly went to hold it. "That is the last fucking thing I need right now, Wilson."

You sound like your father. You sound like his too.

The two of you stood on the sidewalk in the falling snow for a good five minutes of silence while waiting. A "Sorry," managed to come out of your mouth. Both of you were mad. Saying and doing things you didn't mean. Both hurting in your own ways. You hated the way Raoul could control your emotions. Always could. Like you were in the palm of his hand. Seeing yourself in that position again brought a wave of anger like nothing else.

"Let's just wait for the taxi," Wade said. You didn't look back to see his face, but you could feel his energy radiating in the snow. You fucked up. Big time. You were too angry to fix it right now though. This was a problem to solve in the morning. All you wanted right now was to curl up in your bed and sob for the next five hours.

Wade finally waved down a taxi for the two of you, opened the door to let you in first, and crawled in behind you. The tension in the car was so thick you were sure the driver could feel it too. It felt like you were in that car for hours until the two of you got out. As the car drove away and Wade looked for his keys to open the lobby door, all your thoughts began to flood out. "I can't believe he would wave her around in front of me like that!" You could feel the eye roll Wade was having right now, but didn't care enough to stop. He held the door open for you, as you continued talking into the elevator up. "And what was that kiss about?! Talk about show off. And gross also, their saliva almost flew into my eye." Wade stayed silent throughout your whole rant.

Still talking out the elevator and down the hallway. You were so caught up in your thoughts, you didn't even realize you were following Wade up to his door as he unlocked it. "And not to be a bitch, but how can Clarissa grow to stand him? Their personalities do not fit at all." Wade opened the door, and instinctively moved out of the way as he found you pushing yourself into his apartment as you continued talking.

He sighed to himself, closed and locked the door, threw his keys on the kitchen counter and stood by the door as you talked. "You know what? He went there to hurt me. He had to know Clarissa and I worked together, so he had to know I would be at that party! Why else would he go?!" Wade threw his head back, groaned, and began to walk up to you, shielded from your attention by the tangent you were on. "You know what, next work function he goes to, him gonna walk right up to him and tell him how much of an asshole he really is-."

The very last syllable of your sentence was picked up into Wade's mouth as his lips laced their way into yours.

You stood there wide eyed as Wade's lips rested on your mouth. He let go and opened his mouth for a moment as he lowered his eyes down to yours. "You talk too much. And you know it's bad when I'm the one saying that." You didn't have the room in your brain to respond. The only thing you could focus on was getting his mouth back onto yours. You grabbed the back of his head and smushed his face into yours, his own hands wrapping around your waist and hugging you into him.

This kiss was much different from your first one. This one was also rough, but surprisingly tender, like Wade had been waiting for this moment for ever. His lips maneuvered around your mouth the same way they did to your pussy, with a certain care and art. You were the first one to let your tongue slip, making its way into Wade's mouth. He treated it lightly, and with a gentle nature.

While you were distracted by the kiss, Wade hoisted you up to wrap your legs around his hips, and walked you to his bed. He let go of your mouth to dramatically plop you down on the mattress. "Before anything happens, I have got to get you out of that dress," Wade said, lowly and seductively. It was almost like magic, the way Wade's words could soak your underwear the minute they enter the air.

You unzipped your dress with haste, and tightly squeezed it off your body, tossing it to Wade's floor like it wasn't the most expensive piece of clothing you owned. To match you, Wade also stripped off his clothes, leaving both of you completely naked, except for undergarments, on his bed. Wade lowered himself on top of you, lacing his lips back into yours. Your hands explored his back, one of them taking a particular liking to one of his asscheeks, gripping and fondling it. Wade let out sounds of pleasure into your mouth as you played with him.

After a solid time of just making out, you separated your mouth from his. "What's wrong," Wade asked, a kind concern in his voice. You took a minute to gather your thoughts as you stared at Wade's cock, throbbing and bulging through his underwear. "Wade, I want you inside me."

Wade's breath hitched and you could see his cheeks grow red at your comment. "Are you sure?" It was crazy how much of his confidence and swagger he could lose because of your words. A symptom of something deeper inside his heart. You nodded gently. "I've never been so sure about anything until right fucking now," you whispered to him. Wade couldn't help but smile like a kid on Christmas morning. He laced his lips back into yours as his hands moved up your back and unclipped your bra like second nature. You used your hands to help him take off his boxers. The way his shaft sprung out made you gasp in delight.

Wade peppered kisses over your jaw, neck, and chest as he made his way down your body with his mouth. He took special time and care with your tits as he suckled on your nipple with that special tongue of his.

Wade was very dead set on his "no kissing" rule in the past, saving it only for when he would eat you out. Nothing above your hips or below your inner thigh. So, here and now, with his gentle kisses being pressed into your stomach, you couldn't help but giggle happily, your fingers scratching lovingly at the nape of his neck. You were so happy. Happier than when you two would mindlessly hook up. Happier than when you were with Raoul. Happier than when the stars would shine down on you from above. If you could pause time, you would stay in this moment forever. Tender. Pure. Happy,

The kisses made their way down your stomach, traced out your pelvic bone, and finally made it to the border of your panties. Wade's doe brown eyes looked up and made dead eye contact with you as his teeth latched onto your underwear lace. Your pussy throbbed with delight as you watched him pull down your underwear with his mouth expertly. He was most definitely not a novice at this. Once your underwear was finally off, Wade sat up on his knees, looking over your temple of a body.

In the time you two spent together, sure you did a lot of stuff together, but there were heavy boundaries in place. One being, neither of you had seen the other fully naked before. At least one piece of undergarment or clothing was kept on at all times, be it a shirt, boxer short, or skirt. Both of you wanted to get a certain level of privacy. But now, here you both were. Completely exposed for the other to soak in.

"You're so beautiful." His face was so full of admiration. No flirty tone. No pet name to level the meaning. He was absolutely serious. "You're so beautiful," you echo back to him, with the same amount of seriousness. Before he was going to do anything else, he lowered his entire body weight down onto you, skin to skin, and wrapped every inch of himself around you.. "What're you doing Wade?" you asked, gently scratching his bare back with your nails, feeling his skin rise and fall at your touch. "Cherishing you." You had no choice but to kiss him after that comment, a gentle peck from you landing on his lips. "I'm ready," you urged. Wade nodded. "I got you, princess."

Wade used his saliva to wet up your entrance, though not much was needed to help that situation. He used the rest of it to lather up his cock. Taking it in his hand, he gave you a kiss deep into your cheek, and pushed it inside.

Both of you moaned in a loud ecstasy as his thick shaft made its way into your leaking, tight cunt. Then, Wade began thrusting himself into you, as you grabbed onto his shoulders for support. His hands squeezed and manhandled both your tits as his hips rocked waves into you. It was exactly like dancing with him before. He had a certain rhythm to him, like he was a professional. It sounded cheesy as you thought it in your head, but it was true.

"Your pussy's so good for me," he whispered into your ear. "Like it was made for me or something." Your moans filled his ears, only encouraging him to go faster and harder with his thrusts. His dick filled up every crevice of your pussy, his tip pushing just right into your g-spot. One of his hand moves away from your tit and down to grope your asscheek. Your moans grow louder and your grip on his shoulder tightens. "You like it when I manhandle you, huh princess?" he teases. His mouth attaches itself to your neck as he sucks dark bruises into it. "Go harder Wade," you gasp. "As you wish," he cheekily remarks.

You can feel your body growing hotter as his dick throbs inside your tight cunt. The bed rocks and shakes with your movements. You wonder for a split second if any of your neighbors can hear you. The thought loses its momentum when you remember how much worse you've heard come out of this apartment room.

After a solid bit of going at it, you can feel your climax start to hit. Your breath goes shaky, your grip on him gets tighter, and your moans and gasps become more scattered and desperate. "I know sweetheart, I know, don't worry," Wade lowly whispers into your ear, giving your lobe a quick nibble after he's done. You begin to rock your hips as well, clashing into his, desperate to chase the high coming rushing towards you.

The high is magnificent, better than you had ever experienced with him. Your legs and body shake as your body comes around his dick, the orgasm ripping its way through your vocal cords. Wade slips his shaft out of you once your moans stop and finishes on his own on the edge of the bed.

You stay sitting in bed silent for some time, soaking in the full experience. Wade turns back to you and leans down to your pussy, soaking and slurping up your juices. Your body shivers under his gentle tongue. He does a reverse of before, kissing his way up your hips, to your stomach, to your neck, and finding its home on your lips. You wrap your arms around him as he kisses you, wiggling his way with you under the covers of his bed.

"So...how do you feel?" He asked, kissing your cheek. "Fucking great," you giggled. "Well duh, that was the obvious answer," he snarked, pressing quick kissing into every inch of your face, getting sweet laughs out of you. "You've suddenly turned into quite the kisser." "I think I was just waiting for the right moment," he said gently, scanning your face and finding a comfortable sitting in your eyes. "I'm glad you finally found it," you whispered to him. He smiled drowsily. "Me too." Wade nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses there. You closed your eyes as you took in his touch. You could feel yourself slipping out of consciousness, making a quick note to yourself to remember this moment forever. Cherishing Wade while you did so.

[nexreturnsfromthedead]

Something Stupid

Summary: when Sevika finds herself unable to sleep, she can count on you to ease her mind; What starts off as a relaxing massage for an exhausted woman turns into something gentle and loving, forcing her to acknowledge the growing feelings she's desperately been trying to avoid.

Warnings: oral (Sevika receiving), strap-on (reader wearing), attachment issues (the porn part is short, I'm sorry :') ), generally really soft

Notes: this is the first fic I have ever finished and actually published, lol. I fear it's too repetitive at some points and kind of rushed..? Pls pls pls, tell me what you think (as long as you're being kind). If there are any more warnings I should be aware of (probably not), feel free to tell me :) I hate writing dialogs. The painting on the right was done by Tony Belobrajdic :]

Word Count: 6.9k

@venomvalley specifically posted this for you, any criticism is appreciated :D (I lowkey stole your way of... presenting (?) the story, with the colors, pictures and dividers and such, I thought it was really pretty <:3)

Anyways, I hope you enjoy :D

It was well into the night, maybe shortly past midnight, when she made her way onto the small balcony of her rundown apartment, eyes tired and heavy, yet not willing to stay closed. Immediately, she was met by the cold air, a stinging slap to her face. It nips at her skin, looking to break through and seep into her muscles, veins and lastly, her very bones. She didn't mind the harshness prickling against her nerves. She needed the distraction tonight.

A heavy sigh rips from the depths of her lungs, fingers reaching out to fumble for a cigarillo lying on the small, creaking metal table shoved against the railing. It was only there for that exact purpose: holding the packages of her cigars and cigarettes, an ashtray, and perhaps even a drink or two if she's feeling fancy. There was no reason for her to be on the balcony other than to have a calming smoke; no beautiful view waiting for her, no fresh air to catch either, not in the deepness of Zaun.

Flipping open the tin box, metal clattering against the table's surface, her fingers scoop in to lift one of her stress relievers out of its containment. Bringing it up to her lips, her hand reaches for a lighter, needing several tries to ignite a spark and correspondingly, her thin cigar. That simple action carries her mind back to you. You, who usually stumbled over their own feet to light it for her. 'Pretty women don't light their own cigarettes', you always said when she raised a questioning brow, that stupid, stupid grin adorning your lips whenever you did. You, who is currently warming her bed while she's out here, forcing stinging puffs of burning tobacco inside her lungs, only to gently blow them out with long exhales.

The smoke wafts past her lips, its tendrils twirling and swirling high into the sky, wanting to never be seen again as it becomes one with the fissures' polluted air. She felt the nightly tranquility weigh heavy on her shoulders, running thoughts nagging in the back of her mind. She should appreciate the quiet calm instead of bothering herself with these infuriating thoughts, yet her mind grants her no peace. The grip of her prosthetic grows tighter against the railing as she huffs, her lip scrunching up in frustration, quickly taking another drag of her cigar.

She stalls, holding the smoke deeply in her chest when she feels warm arms wrap around her waist, a face nestling between the hard planes of her shoulder blades.

Ba-dump.

Once she gets over the initial shock of your unexpected touch, she blows the smoke out slowly, watching as its wifts get carried through the winds.

"You should be in bed", she hums, feeling the nicotine take its course through her system. Her response was only to mask her own feelings, hoping to distract you from your initial mission. Always trying to divert the focus from herself.

"So should you...", you retort, your voice carrying the groggy roughness of leftover sleep, ".. You okay..?"

She huffs, puffing on her cigar.

"Never better", she mumbles sarcastically. It had always been easy for you to peek through her defenses, finding the smallest of cracks and managing to scratch them open with the very tips of your fingers; even if they did bleed in the end. Yet, every time you were close to reaching treasure, she seals the crumbling gaps with thicker concrete. She didn't understand why you kept on trying, kept on bothering to put up with her.

"A penny for your thoughts?", you murmur, nuzzling your nose against the crevice of her spine; a silent reassurance, urging her to open up.

"I'm fine", she sighs, flicking off the built up ashes. Her eyes trail down their path, seeing them disappear against the dirty cobblestone beneath her feet, beneath the balcony; they weren't worth a second glance. Couldn't even tell they had been there in the first place.

"You sure? Taking a lonely smoke in the middle of night doesn't exactly scream 'fine', you know..?", there's an empathetic smile on your face, trying to lighten the mood. She can hear it in the way you talk.

"Too much on your mind?"

"You could say that", she trails off thoughtfully, "It's not worth your time, no need to worry about it", there's a tiredness in her voice, a hint of self deprecation one could only catch if they really listened. Which you always did. Unfortunately for her.

"I worry about you"

Ba-dump

Protest laces your tone as you speak, ".. And if something's bothering you, then it must be important... Atleast to some degree.."

"It's not. Trust me, doll. I can handle a few stupid thoughts", you hear the way her voice changes subtly, forcing herself to sound less vulnerable, trying to once again build the wall higher around her heart; a prison for the lonely.

"But I do.. Because you're important to me.. And I care..", you reassure, trailing off. The unspoken; words she feared ever coming from your lips were left unsaid, but she knew they were there. Sitting on the tip of your tongue, itching to slip past the seal and bury deep inside her heart like barbed wire.

Your sigh is warm against her back when you realize she won't budge; she can feel it through the fabric of her shirt. She desperately fights off the crawling shiver threatening to run down her spine.

"You don't have to tell me.. But please just.. Remember that I'm here for you.. And whenever you need me, I'll happily lend an ear", your arms tighten around her waist, pulling her closer in comfort; wether it was for her's or your own, she's not quite sure. Regardless, she melts into your embrace, her muscles relaxing the tiniest bit. She's silent, no doubt contemplating your words. Cigarillo back at her lips, she closes her eyes, a heavy, smoky breath escaping her nostrils.

"I'm just.. Worrying over nothing, is all. Nothing severe", she murmurs, her metallic hand clanking against the railing when she let's go, instead bringing it to hold the cigar. The other one, her own, moves to rest over yours. She always prefered feeling you, your soft skin beneath hers. When in reality, she shouldn't. Shouldn't let you hold her so tenderly. Shouldn't reciprocate. It'll only be harder in the end. Companionship and romance aren't things that lasted in the dark pit that is the Underground. They wither, get stomped out and burned until the only thing that's left is the dismembered corpse of what could have been. That's how life was in this hell she called her home. She accepted it. Had to learn how to from an early age. Yet despite that, she couldn't help but hold her hand into the flame.

".. How about a massage?", she barely catches the sound of your voice, yet it still cuts through her racing mind.

"What?", she turns her head, looking down at you over her shoulder. You can't help but admire her from this angle, the faint, neon lights from the distance reflecting across her profile, her blue scars glowing. Greens, reds and purples catch against her skin, colors that all looked magnificient, in perfect contrast with the essence of her very being.

"I can massage you... Help you relax.. Get your mind off of things", you repeat, your hands travelling towards her hips, gently squeezing.

A small snort echoes through the night.

"Oh yeah? Pampering me now, are you?", she hums, taking one last drag of her cigar before stumping it out in the ashtray. She made it a habit ever since she noticed you picking up her thrown butts scattered across the floor one too many times. The same way she made it a habit of smoking on the balcony once she realized you couldn't breathe properly when she did it inside.

".. But I won't say no to that if you're offering".

She watches as that small smile forms on your face, standing on your toes to press a soft kiss against her cheek. You didn't have to, but knew it boosted her ego just a bit.

Ba-dump.

"Go make yourself comfortable in bed, I'll start heating up the oil", you pat her shoulders before the both of you part ways, her going back to bed while you grab the massaging oil from the bathroom. Filling a pot with water, you bring it to a soft boil before putting the container in to warm up.

Once you re-enter the bedroom, you find Sevika comfortably lying on her back, boxers the only thing adorning her scarred skin. Her right arm is tucked underneath her head, her prosthetic lying on the bedside table for easy access should she need it. Due to her lying position, her thighs appear even bigger than usual, excess flesh squished to the sides. They're spread the tiniest bit, enough to make your mind spiral as it immediately conjures the lewdest images of your head between them, squished to death as you lap at her cunt.

If you could paint realistically, you would capture the beauty of this moment in it's entirety; the way she lies before you making for the perfect muse. The way the low light of the bedside lamp casts breathtaking shadows across her muscles, contouring her in the best of ways. You have to actively stop yourself from drooling.

"Are you done oggling me?", there it is, that shit eating smirk you've grown to love so much, no matter how infuriating it can be at times. Your eyes roll on instinct, a grin of your own forming on your face.

"Oh hush. I can't be blamed when you're looking like that", a smile graces your lips, one entirely too intimate for her but her heart skips a beat anyways. You crawl onto the bed, one finger wedging between her thigh and the leg of her boxers. Pulling softly, you let the fabric snap back against her skin. Her eyebrow raises in response, challenging you to go further, watching as you position yourself over her.

She can see the mirth twinkling in your irises, no doubt conjuring plans on how to make her suffer.

Ba-dump

It only makes her heart beat quicker, rapidly hammering against the cage of her chest, wanting to be set free like a bird gazing at the ever growing horizon. She doesn't stop you when your head dips down to plant your first kiss against her collarbone. Breathing grows harder when your lips trail gently up her neck. She could feel their softness, the carefulness in your touch as if she was something fragile, something made to be broken. She wasn't. She was anything but that. Yet she enjoys it when your lips stream higher and higher, following along the reddened rivulet hidden underneath her skin until you reach the shell of her ear, lips threatening to fall off the cliff that is her jaw and she hopes you'll cling onto it.

She holds her breath when your lips wander along, tiptoeing against the line, never once losing your balance. But she fears. Fears you'll fall. Fears you'll drag her with you into the deep end, with no point of return. Once your lips finally meet hers, she realizes it is already far too late. She's drowning, air ripped from her lungs as her very being succumbes to your deadly touch; drowning in a sea that is entirely made of you. Your touch. Your smell. Your voice. Your taste. It's all you. And she fears it. Fears getting close to you. Fears that this will change. Fears this won't last.

She's afraid.

And she doesn't know how to swim back up to the surface as you drag her deeper and deeper into the dark abyss. But she's not complaining, quite the contrary. She's feeding into it, letting her body grow heavy as she let's you pull her under. She reaches out for you, pulling you closer as she craves more, addicted to the feeling of utter breathlessness and freedom, despite knowing she'll lock herself away the moment the touch of your lips passes. So she clings on, forcing you against her as your lips join and overlap like clashing waves.

She chases you once you pull away, like you're her only source of oxygen but when she grasps your lips are gone, she breathes in deeply. Eyes fluttering open, she finds your own already staring back at her, that stupid, stupid smile back on your face, taunting her with feelings she'd rather keep buried underneath harsh words and a tough exterior.

Ba-dump

She knew that there was something lingering between you two for quite some time now, something she didn't want to acknowledge, too afraid to do so. After all, she did invite you over to her apartment for the better quarter of a year now, to the point that you've basically movied in with her; your clothes strewn across chairs and the run down sofa she's been wanting to replace for a while now; replacing half of her wardrobe's contents with you; a second toothbrush occupying the small little cup on her bathroom's sink; her fridge filled with various kinds of fresh vegetables, fruits and self-made jams -the same way her stomach is filled to the brim with home cooked meals rather than random take-out.

She snaps out of her thoughts when your fingers tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, gently, warmly and she curses herself for leaning into the touch.

One last, chaste kiss against her lips and you pull away. She almost panics, but your hand gently pushes over her heart, keeping her still. If it weren't for your reassuring smile and devoted eyes staring down at her, she'd feel embarrassed with how rapidly her heart drums against your palm, wanting to nestle into the warmth of your skin.

"How about you turn around, hm? So I can start the massage", she blinks once, twice before your words finally register in her muddled brain and with a single nod of her head, she flips herself onto her stomach, needing a few tries until her chest lies comfortably against the mattress. Her eyes stare blankly onto the prosthetic to her left, lying abandoned on the bedside table as her cheek rests on her arm, impatiently waiting to finally feel your hands upon her skin.

Instead, she senses the way your eyes burn into it, mapping out each and every crevice of her body. She doesn't know wether to feel shy, small, cocky or ashamed. Maybe an unhealthy mix of all four.

"Thought you were gonna massage me, not drool all over", her voice is quiet, barely audible as she murmurs her words in a flimsy attempt of keeping her pride, dignity and a semblance of her usual bravado. Though it's only a mask; she feels anything but. Your giggle makes her want to bury her face in the pillow and pull you in for another kiss, simply to drown out the addictive sound.

"I'm sorry, honey, but you're absolutely stunning"

Ba-dump

She scoffs, frowning into space with.. Is that a pout?

It deepens when you seemingly laugh at her misery, but before she can react, you hook a leg over her hips to straddle her, your buttocks against hers. An involuntary sigh flows out of her nostrils. Having you close was always so calming, but so, so nerve-wracking all at once.

You open the container for the oil, the glass warm against your palms like a hot cup of coffee. Inside Sevika's head, the sound of the lid opening echoes as anticipation builds higher and higher. Dipping the tips of your fingers inside, you spread the slickness in the palms of your hands.

"Ready?", an affirmative hum is your only cue before you place your hands down on her.

As soon as they make contact with her back, her whole body melts into the mattress, her eyelids fluttering shut as she let's her trepidations and stress wash away. They glide firmly over her muscles, rubbing the oil deeply into her skin. You watch as her shoulders rise with every even breath, falling in slow exhales, and you can't help but note how etheral she looks like this. So at peace, in absolute bliss. It was a rare sight and you understood why, her life was in no way an easy one, but you wished you'd be able to see it more often. You promise yourself you'll make it better.

With wandering hands and eyes, you heed the details of her body before you, carving each and every one into the mental statue molded inside the depths of your mind. From the occasional moles scattered across her olive skin, up to her blueish-purple scars that reach all the way from her shoulder to her cheek. They glisten under the warm, dull light of the bedside lamp, twinkling like a night sky full of stars; an entire galaxy mapped out on her body.

Taking the opportunity, your eyes trace over her features: her beautiful grey eyes that always tell you exactly what she's thinking, giving you a window to look through her soul no matter how many curtains she uses to hide. They're closed, but the way her eyelashes are curled against her cheeks is equally breathtaking. Her dark lips, so perfectly kissable, adorned with those tiny splits of healed cuts from prior fights. Those lovely lips that hide the most adorable smile you've ever seen, with the cutest tooth gap enhancing her charm. Without realizing, your hands slow their movements before coming to a full stop against her shoulder blades.

Pure and utter adoration lies down to rest on your face, softening your features as you lean forward, pressing a tender peck against the apple of her cheek.

Ba-dump

Heat rises, travelling from her face down her neck. Her eyes peek open, flicking over her shoulder to look at you and she hates the sight before her.

Hates the way you gaze down at her in the most tender way she's ever experienced. Hates the way your smile makes her heart race to the point she's overwhelmed by breathless dizziness. Hates the way your hands feel against her skin, forcing these gooey, weak emotions inside her to rouse from their century long slumber. Hates the way she craves more despite knowing better.

Of course she's aware that your hands are slowing, coming to a stop as you're stuck in mesmerization; how could she not when their movement felt so heavenly against her sore spots and deep knots? Though she's unsure wether she should vocalise her discontent; after all, you have done so much for her already and in no way does she want to come across as ungrateful. But you did promise her a soothing massage. And this was in no way enough.

So without uttering any comands, she simply pushes her muscles back against your hands, urging you to keep going. With snorted laughter and a teasing quip her way, your hands continue their trip to bringing her pleasure.

"Anything for my sweet woman~", your voice sings, your words deepening that soft redness on her cheeks.

Ba-dump

She wasn't necessarily the possessive type, but sentences like these had a way of playing her heart strings like they hadn't been in years. She hated it. She absolutely despised it. It made her weak. It made you a liability. Yet she couldn't help but crave more, her greed knowing no bounds even in this.

Only that she couldn't win this fight; the fight she put up against her own heart whenever it starts skipping two beats around you. The fight she puts up whenever she catches her own breath hitching at the sight of you cooking behind her stove, waiting for her to come home as you cook a filling meal for her after a grueling day of work. The fight she puts up whenever she realizes she was growing softer, more vulnerable around you. She knew that. Knew she couldn't win. So for now, she figures indulging in it was for the best. Only that her heart is pounding so horribly against her ribcage, it was hard to ignore. So was the low burn starting to ignite in her abdomen when she let her thoughts drift. It was only a matter of time until they did, with how well you tend to her every need, every single time, every hour of the day, no matter how often she pushes you away.

The longer your fingers glide across her skin, the more loose her lips become; small sighs and hums and things that sound suspiciously like whimpers vibrating through her throat. Of course, you notice. Just as you notice the way her body grows restless beneath you; back arching against your touch, ass, with you on top, lifting up and back down with each movement of her thighs, no doubt rubbing them together, arm tensing against her pillow and pulling it closer to her flushed face.

The control you have over her, despite her refusal to admit to anything of the matter, leaves you grinning giddily, light-hearted perversion running through every vein of your body at the knowledge of having her fully wrapped around your pinky finger, desperate for the simplest of touches. She'd do anything for you without so much of a blink, just like you would do anything for her. You'd burn the whole world down if she asked you to.

Though these touches might not be as innocent as they had started off anymore.

So without much of a thought, you slip off your position on top of her, moving between her thighs, sitting on your haunches.

You focus on her lower back, thumbs pressing into those two, cute little dimples of venus. Fitting name, she looked like a sculpted god.

Occasionally, those exact thumbs catch underneath the waistband of her underwear, on accident, of course, and you revel in the way her breath stops momentarily before picking back up slightly more labored each time.

"stop teasing", her voice would sound warning if it weren't for the shudder accompanied by it, or the hoarse rasp coating each word.

"whatever do you mean?"

Despite your words, you never really seem to be able to tease her for long, caving at each little command like you were born to follow obediently. Maybe it was the constant stress you've been put under about being 'the perfect little kid' that had molded you into exactly that; someone with the constant need for instructions, searching for the simplest forms of validation. But you don't mind; you have long accepted the fact that you wanted to be obedient, just for her.

The tips of your fingers dip below her waistband, agonizingly slow when tugging the offending fabric down, down and down until they're thrown off to the side; out of sight, out of mind.

You bite your lip at the sight before you, fingers splaying out across the fat of her ass, squeezing and prodding and digging and squeezing until her shoulders were tense, thighs squeezed tightly and her face hidden in the pillow.

She was cute like this, all flustered. It was a sight you've got to see more and more often these past few weeks the longer you stayed close by her side. And you loved it, loved whenever she averted her gaze or burrowed her face in your neck in a futile attempt of hiding her bashfulness.

"stop", she scoffs, loving hating the way butterflies swirled in her stomach like she's some teenage girl. But you knew she didn't mean it; she was pressing her flesh against your hands. She was pressing her hips higher in hopes you'll catch the hint, burying your face where she needs it the most.

You did, of course, catch the hint, but played dumb for just a little while longer.

"what do you need, honey? I'm not a mind reader, you know...", she can hear the condescending lilt in your voice, feel the barely perceptible brush of your thumb over her humiliatingly wet folds and she almost gives herself whiplash with how quickly her head twists over her shoulder to shoot you a glare.

Her mouth opens to curse you out, tell you to 'fucking touch her' before she takes matters into her own hands, but her words quickly die on her tongue, replaced by the loudest moan she's ever let slip as your tongue dives forward, running from her thrumming clit up to her leaking hole.

Her face burns, quickly pushed back against her pillow, entirely too embarrassed at the almost pornographic noise escaping her lips.

Really, it wasn't that loud. It was moderate, but usually, she was more on the quieter side, the most she'd let slip were groans and grunts, maybe the occasional, quiet whimper. So a full blown moan was something new, something that exposed her in ways she didn't want to be.

So she hid her face against the sheets, each kiss and lick and suck of your lips across her cunt luring more noises to slip past her own, only partially muted by her self-made gag. Surely, you'd love to hear them to their full extent, but you also knew she needed this, needed something to ground herself with, to keep herself from getting too overwhelmed, so you accepted it.

Your movements were languid, tongue dragging and basking in the salty taste of her arousal, nose pressed against her until every other sense was drowned out. You could stay like this, between her thighs, all day, all night, 24/7; feeling her gush on your tongue, arousal dripping as it flowed freely from her hole. The exact place you're shoving your tongue into, wanting to taste more, and she whimpers at your desperation.

Her voice is a tad bit higher than usual, raspy with need as the noises stream past her lips like a river across its bank.

Wet muscle slithering back up through her folds, her hips move on their own accord, jumping when your lips wrapped around that sweet, sweet bundle of nerves, sucking harshly and shaking your head from side to side.

It doesn't take long until she's gasping, hand shooting out behind her to press your face further into her cunt, hips grinding, chasing a high so close she could taste it on her lips. Your neck and cheeks were growing clammy, arousal and spit smeared across your chin and nose. You couldn't move even if you wanted to, and it got you hooked almost immediately.

Your own abdomen throbbed with heat as she just used you, dragging herself against your face until her own desire was sated, thighs riddled with small tremors as her body convulsed, clenching around nothing as her orgasm crashed over her in shocking waves.

You gently lick up the added slick, sucking her clean until you finally depart yourself with a wet 'pop'.

She catches her breath, eyes closed and body relaxed. You tug on her shoulder, forcing her to turn onto her back.

Your kisses are sweet when you pepper them across her face, trying to get her back to earth. When her breathing has somewhat gone back to acceptable standards, you spoke up.

"can I wear the strap tonight?", your voice is gentle, tender, like you're speaking to a wounded animal, knowing she'll need a second before registering your words. But already, she knows she hates your tone of voice. Despises how much her heart desires it.

There's a short pause as she contemplates what to respond. Did she even want to let you take complete control tonight? Give herself to you in such an open, vulnerable way? Let you take the lead as she, what, laid back and did nothing? Janna, yes she did.

A huff.

"Do whatever you want..", a grumble, a begrudging attunement without having to distinctly voice it, without the added exposure of telling you exactly what she wants.

Your hands squeeze firmly just underneath the cheeks of her sculpted bottom, your nose wandering along her jaw.

"You know I won't take that as an answer, honey. You want me to or you don't. Either is fine, but you gotta let me know, otherwise I'm not doin' nothin'!", your grin against her cheek is burning, leaving a trail of reddened marks to travel over the bridge of her nose and down the side of her neck.

"You're insufferable..", she whispers, refusing to meet your gaze like her life depended on it, "... Put it on.."

There's that same mirth flashing through your eyes, teeth flashing mischievously through tautly pulled lips and for a second, she thinks she might regret her decision. That is until you actually fasten the harness around your hips, not without undressing yourself first. Her eyes are laser focused on the way the straps dig into your skin, your flesh bulging over them.

At this moment, she realizes she's never appreciated anything more than you, exactly like this, before. The way you look above her, honey-skinned in the golden glow of the bedside lamp, naked as the day you were born. The way her strap fits so snugly around your hips, the dildo resting neatly over her pubic mound -and she might think you look even better than her wearing it. The way you've been taking care of her all evening; from the dinner you made for her when she got home, to your fingers carding through her hair as you washed it thoroughly, because you knew she was too exhausted to lift her arm, and finally, your ever soft hands against her skin, in more ways than one.

And you'll continue taking care of her going onward from this moment.

All she has to do is sit back.. Let go.. And simply pass the reigns to you.

The day has left her drained already, the leaching work and onslaught of haunting thoughts enough to bring her guard down, enough to lean back and simply bask in the moment.

She'll manage. It should be easy. And if she gets overwhelmed, she can always just roll you over- not that she'll get overwhelmed, that's idiotic, she can handle it. She's Silco's right hand woman, dammit, she handles fights and meetings and bribes and errands with ease, so she can handle a bit of vulnerability, she will.

Her expression portrays her confliction, corner of her lip twitching upward in what seems to be disgust, though her eyes show the insecurity lying beneath.

She snaps out of her mental prison when your voice calls her name, smile compassionate, sweet, lov- don't you dare finish that thought.

"we don't have to. I can just.. Take it off and we'll call it a day", she wants this. She wants this. 'So open your damned mouth and say it-'

"Don't..", her voice is a meek murmur, lips formed in an almost huffy pout. Her expression is one you would expect a dishonored person to wear, someone who's got their whole pride and dignity stripped from them, eyes not hitting their target.

"tell me to continue and I will. Tell me to stop and I won't hesitate. This is all about you, honey. Just look at me and talk, yeah?", she fights against the grip of your hand against her jaw, but decides to give up and look at you none the less.

Why do you have to be so damn convincing?

"Just get on with it, will you? Unless you're getting cold feet?", her tone is mocking, challenging, desperately trying to keep up the confident, unbothered front.

With a roll of your eyes and a knowing grin, you grind -in this very moment your- strap against her folds, coating it's underside in her arousal. Her breath hitches. She's almost embarrassed at how wet she is. She blames it on the lingering of your spit. Yet she can't disguise the stumbling of her breath.

"You like that, huh?"

With no response, you simply thrust your hips once more, tip of the silicone catching against her clit in just the right ways. In response, her eyes flutter shut for just a moment before immediately locking with yours.

She's almost mesmerized by the sight of you, so beautifully woven into her life, and Janna, she shouldn't be so excited to let you fuck her.

But she is, so she watches with bated breath as you spit against your dick, smearing it across with your hand firmly wrapped around, the exact way you've done when she was the one wearing it.

You're infuriatingly careful when ligning yourself up, almost like you're scared of hurting her. How.. Pathetic..

Ba-dump

She watches carefully as your elbows place next to her head, your face breathtakingly close to hers as you push in. Her eyes flutter closed instinctively, head relaxing further into the pillows as she clenches tightly around the intrusion, and you swear you can feel it.

It's all a blur, really. Pleasure so good it has her arching into your touch until her chest is squished against yours. Your hand finds hers, fingers interlacing, squeezing her hand with a kind of possession that makes her heart soar. Her throat is dry, you can hear it in the way she swallows, your nose nudging along her cheek, her scars. Eyes closed, she gives herself fully to you, lips parted with ragged breaths as she meets every one of your thrusts with a grind of her own.

So really, it's no wonder that the words slip past your lips, barely audible if they hadn't been whispered right beside her ear.

Immediately, her body freezes, eyes shooting open as she stares off beside your head. She looks positively terrified, and it tucks at your heartstrings, hips stopping as soon as you feel her stiffening, trying to lock herself back up.

Her head turns to the side, eyes filling with unwanted tears, burning as she stops them from cascading down her cheeks. Your hands reach out for them instead.

"hey, hey... It's okay.. I shouldn't have dropped that on you..", you refuse to say you're sorry. After all, it was true and you didn't want her to think otherwise. You were sorry for dropping the l-bomb so suddenly, so intimately, without any trenches near for her to hide in, to save herself from the inevitable first blow. But you weren't at all sorry for loving her. Why would you be? Ever since she has taken you in, invited you to invade her private life, you have been so much happier than you have ever been before. She could be kind if she wanted to, showing that she cared in the simplest of ways without having to voice it. You couldn't help but dig deeper into that hole you've called affection, infatuation growing the longer you've decided to hold onto her, everything she was willing to give you, you ate it up like someone starved.

She's almost choking on her own tears and the sight breaks your heart.

"breathe, honey... I'm right here... And I'll stay here for as long as you want me to...", your voice carries that same careful and tender tone it always does, wiping the tears from the corner of her eyes before they can fall and she doesn't know wether to feel thankful or burst out sobbing, "We can stop, yeah? Wait, I'll.."

Before you can pull out of her, her ankle hooks around your waist, keeping you close.

With a warring mind and heavy heart, she held you there, needed you by her side, to soothe her pain the way you did to her wounds after careless fights. Yet she refused to look at you, still figuring out her own reaction.

Her heart soared at the admission all the while squeezing with an unimaginable pain, knowing all her efforts to prevent this have grown to be futile. But maybe, just maybe if she let you keep going, you'll stay. Like you said you would.. So she indulged in it, maybe one last time, and quietly, she whispers.

"Don't stop"

And you don't, hips slowly starting to move again, more carefully than before, eyes searching her expression for any sign of discomfort, any sign of her changing her mind. But she doesn't, refuses to if this might be her last chance of being intimate with you.

She was afraid. Afraid you wouldn't like what she's hidden beneath despite your reassurances trying to ease her over and over again. It was drilled into her very being ever since she was born. Weakness is a curse, took the people you cared about and sent them off to fight their own war, slaughtered by the cold hands of life. Vulnerability was weakness. Better not show it if you want to live. Best not feel it if you want to survive. Yet with every little bit of vulnerability she showed, you've never strayed; never berated her for feeling, never used it to make her pliable in your hands, never used it as a weapon against herself. You've encouraged it, kissed her messy thoughts better. So why was she still so afraid?

Her confliction was etched onto her face, carved into her complexion like an eternal inscription. So you speak up.

"Want me to tell you just what I love about you?", her breath catches, hitching in her throat at the sound of your panting, your hips picking up their pace, starting to move against hers a bit more desperately.

"I love your pretty nose, your for some reason always perfect-looking hair, your jaw, your tummy, your happy trail, your thighs..", you pause shortly as you notice the precarious expression gracing her features.

".. I love your crystal-grey eyes, because no matter how hard you try to hide behind that tough persona of yours, they always show me just what you're thinking, what you're feeling.. It really is true when people say eyes are the mirror into one's soul.. And yours are the prime example..

I love your full lips; they're so damn kissable.. The way they feel against me, in any way, makes me feel like they were made for that purpose only. No matter if it's my lips, my cheek, my forehead or somewhere else entirely, you make sure that I feel breathless wherever they trail"

Her doubt is settling on her chest, locking it closed and crushing her lungs as it slings its vines around her neck like a noose, tighter and tighter until her breath is cut short. The pressure weighs heavy, repressed tears flooding her eyes with each word muttered, spilling from your lips as a healing balm for her aching heart.

"I love your scars.. Every single one a testimony of the challenges you face everyday; the proof of your ambition, your willpower to fight and keep fighting for Zaun, your people -us. They glimmer like the stars hung above the sky. They're something to be proud of, something that makes you who you are. And I wouldn't have you any other way..

I love your faith in this city. How you give everything you have to do what's right. How you stay rooted to your beliefs.. And won't let anyone put you down. You're fighting for this.. Better and harder than anyone. 

I love how much you care, the way you show you care.. I love how despite everything life throws your way, you always find a way to keep going, you never give up..

I promise, you can be so proud of yourself, Sevika. I am so proud of you. Proud of calling you mine. It's an honor. And I love you"

With shaky breaths and a trembling hand, she grabs you by the back of your head, pulling you down to connect your lips in a soft kiss, filled with aversion and craving, reluctant surrender and reassurance, need and desperation; and for the very first time, she allows herself to admit it's love.

It's love when her legs hook around your waist, pulling you closer, flush against her so she's able to feel every press and rub and thrust to its fullest, indulging in what she's fought against for so long.

It's love when you focus solely on her, wiping the lonesome tears that slip from her eyes, replacing them with the residue of once-saliva-slicked lips.

It's love when you muffle her humiliatingly loud noises with breathtaking pecks, swallowing her sounds and saving them in the depths of your mind.

It's love when your hips speed up per request, when your thumb pushes against her clit because you know she's edging closer and closer.

It's love when she lets herself fall once more, body shuddering as she's blinded by her pleasure, though it might as well be the tears in her eyes.

It's love when you kiss her through it. When you praise her and tell her once more just how much she means to you.

It's love when you clean her up, letting her cuddle close when her mind has finally quieted down enough for her eyes to grow heavy.

And at the very end, she knows it's love when you whisper she'll be your wife one day.

[lady-of-tearshed]

Solace

Eris Vanserra x Reader

(Unedited yet! Posted it by accident 😑 I didn't even realized it until @daycourtofficial reposted 🤣 I was so confused lol)

Summary: Eris comes back from a meeting exhausted. He is overwhelmed with his new role as a High Lord lately, and his mate decides to take special care of him.

Eris sighed as he came back to your shared chambers later than anticipated from an awfully boring meeting. He had still tons of work to be done with, new courtiers to hire, troops reorganization, and court finances issues to fix and analyze in more depth. He was supposed to hand back a report about analyzing these financial issues this afternoon actually, but he didn’t even have time to finish writing it. Surprisingly, his courtiers had decided to be kind enough not to bring up his missing report in his meeting this afternoon.

His ears perk up when he hears the bathtub water running from the bathroom. He quietly walks his way there, and spots you pouring bubble bath and salts into the tub. He spots two sets of matching pajamas perfectly folded on the bathroom countertop. You were running him a bath… His heart swells with guilt, feeling ashamed of being absent recently. And yet there you were… still taking care of him.

Pangs of guilt flow through the bond, you look over your shoulder to see your mate staring at you, his brows frowned in concern “I’m unworthy of you…”. His Adam's apple bobs as he tries to swallow the tick knot in his throat. 

You walk over to Eris and wrap your arms around his neck, his instinctively resting on your hips. You stare into his eyes with determination and pure honesty shining into them and say “I am to judge whether or not someone is worthy of me, and you, Eris Vanserra, I can confidently say that you are.”. 

He opens his mouth and shakes his head to complain, but you cut him off with a sweet kiss on his lips “Don’t go down that path, please.” He sighs but kisses you back gently on your forehead, breathing in your comforting scent. “Okay…”

You smile and slowly pull back to stop the faucet before the bath overflows on the tiles. Eris can’t help but stare at your curves as you undress and sink into the bath first, a content sigh falls from your lips as the warm water makes your whole body melt in delight.

“Why are you still standing there?” You tease as you look over at Eris, frozen in his contemplation. His hands were still gripping the edge of his shirt he had wanted to take off before getting distracted. He shakes his head and chuckles at his own thoughts, thinking about how his wife could take his attention away by doing literally anything. He undresses and settles himself in the bath between your legs, his back pressed against your chest. You run your wet fingers through his hair and he groans in pleasure, leaning his head back onto your shoulder. You smile and kiss the side of his face.

It has been a while since you had any kind of intimacy with Eris, he had been spending a lot of time fixing the mistakes and changing the ways of Beron’s past reign in the past few weeks. You had caught him falling asleep in his study a few times recently, he looked so drained that every time you found him asleep on his desk, you felt too bad to wake him up to selfishly have him beside you in bed. So every time, you only had placed a pillow under his head, wrapped a sheet around his shoulders, and kissed his head goodnight silently. 

When you snap out of your thoughts, you turn your head and notice that Eris’s eyes are now shut, his lips slightly parted, all of his features relaxed and his head feels heavier onto your shoulder… “You’re not falling asleep on me… are you?” you chuckle “No…no.” He whispers under his breath.

He sits up and stretches his neck, hissing slightly at the soreness caused by his constant stress, lack of sleep, and probably many other factors. 

“I still need to finish writing this report-” He almost moans when your fingers expertly start to knead his poor muscles. 

You smile and hold back a laugh at Eris' pleased sounds. His thoughts were now completely off his work and the thing he was about to say. His soreness slowly fades away as your fingers work their magic on him. 

As you keep applying just enough pressure on the sore spots on Eris's shoulders, your eyes dart to his many moles and freckles. You suddenly realize that you don’t often have the opportunity to stare at his bare back. “Beautiful…” the words fall from your lips absent-mindedly.

Your words breaking the silence confuse Eris “...What?” he asks, his voice low from the deep state of relaxation you had managed to soak him in. “I said they’re beautiful, your moles and freckles. They make me think of a starry night sky. You are exquisite, my love.”.

The blush on his face travels up all the way to his ears, and he mumbles a shy ‘you too’, too stunned to answer anything back at your sweet words. He wonders how you manage to do it, every word that comes out of your mouth is always so honest and so… poetic. 

—

The bubbles of the bath had completely melted, and the water was starting to turn cold when you both decided to get out of the bath. You had braided your damp hair before the two of you quite literally crawled your way under the soft duvet of your bed. 

Eris was gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, admiring your peaceful figure lying down in front of him. He was trying his best to heat up your ice-cold feet with his legs wrapped around yours. After years of marriage, he still couldn’t understand how your feet always seemed to be literal ice cubes. You were starting to drift to sleep when suddenly you reminded yourself of something “You know that unfinished report you were worried about earlier?”

“Yeah?”

“You finished it this afternoon.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion “Impossible, I was in a meeting this afternoon-” Realization hits him when he hears you scoff quietly, his eyes soften and he pulls you closer to his chest, squeezing you tightly into his arms and kissing the crown of your head. You nuzzle into his warmth, appreciating the low rumble of his chest when he speaks up quietly before you both drift to sleep. “Thank you…”

“I love you.” You whisper as you fall back asleep.

“I love you the most, my solace.” 

••••••••••••

A/N: Well, I was supposed to post it on Friday or Saturday, but here we are! 😅 Hope you like it. I barely edited it, so if you guys notice anything, please let me know 💕

[mikimakiboo]

Sansnautica AU - Learning To Trust, With Love

Bad Sans Poly ! ( mtt x Nightmare, Cross isn't there yet )

The Sansnautica AU belongs to @ancha-aus ! :D consider this an early Christmas gift friend •w•

This is my little interpretation of how the gang met Nightmare and started the first part of the poly, which is obviously inspired by our rambling in the notes ( btw the boys' designs are linked in her master post so go check them out because I don't know how to describe them )

Also I still know NOTHING about subnautica except for the fact that it's underwater so please ignore the inaccuracies, even tho I tried to keep it quite vague as to avoid them lol

I started proofreading this at like 1:30am and finished at like nearly 2am so there might be mistakes left lol

How did all of this happen ? How did Nightmare allow this ? He never allowed it before. He liked being alone. At least he thought he did, but then they showed up, and he let them stay.

Well, they didn't "show up", he did remember saving one: Killer.

He was out hunting, roaming on his territory, when he heard noise. If at first he wouldn't have paid attention to it, it quickly became apparent that the noise was coming from his side of the frontier, which meant, whatever was making such noise, was trespassing, and he wouldn't tolerate that.

So Nightmare got closer, ready to chase off any intruder, until he saw what it was: the aliens that were invading the ocean, hunting a boneshark mer who obviously looked quite tired already. They were hunting. These aliens were hunting on his territory, they were hunting a mer. Mers belonged to him, he was their God. That wouldn't do.

He launched upward to where the noise was coming from, appearing in all his height in front of the boneshark and the aliens, putting a stop in their course as the mer crashed into the reef, having tried to avoid hitting the leviathan.

Nightmare watched as the aliens gestured to each other, swimming backward to try and flee, but the God was faster as his hand moved forward, picking them as if they were seaweeds. He bared his fangs, feeling terror emanating from the aliens as he brought them closer to his opened mouth. The terror didn't last long, it faded rapidly after the first bite. There was nothing left when he swallowed them.

He turned to the shark against the reef, seeing as he was still shaking with a fish tightly pressed against his chest, seemed like he too was out hunting. The two stared at each other for a while, before Nightmare turned his back to leave without a word. He had eaten, he could go back to his hideout. He hated being outside for too long, not that he was scared of anything, he just preferred the intimacy of his nest.

He wouldn't have thought the boneshark would follow him, and even worse, refuse to leave when Nightmare stopped to tell him to go back to where he came from. No, instead he followed him to his cave and laid on a flat stone to munch on his fish. Nightmare could have chased him, but he was feeling the fright residues coming from the mer, and decided to be merciful and let him rest for a while.

The next morning the mer was gone, Nightmare thought he went back to his own nest, but instead he came back two days later with two new sharks: a sand shark and a stalker, both mers, both as tired looking as the first one. The sand shark was the first to approach him, a large prey in his hands, that he put down in front of him before backing off. An offering it seemed, a silent demand to be allowed to stay in exchange for some of their catch. Nightmare looked at them silently for a while, he didn't want to have anyone in his nest, he didn't want his tranquility to be disturbed, but the aliens were still out and they were chasing mers specifically... he inspected the offering, it seemed to be a rabbit ray, a fresh catch. He grabbed it between two fingers to take a closer look, sensing the anxiety of the three mers rising, and finally swallowed it whole, accepting the offering and, by extension, allowing them to stay.

They had introduced themselves, the boneshark that Nightmare saved was named Killer, the sand shark that had offered him the ray was Horror, and the stalker was Dust. They seemed to be bounded, as these species didn't usually mix and travel together. Nightmare learned soon after that they were in fact mates.

Their presence wasn't insufferable, Nightmare wouldn't say he enjoyed having them around, but he had to recognize that having a little bit of life in his nest wasn't the worst. Having noise, someone talking to him even if just to tell him about the hunt of the day, was something he didn't think he had missed so much. He wouldn't say he liked them, but he would be a little pained if they left. He did find it amusing, however, that after a few days these three started to try courting him. They weren't the first to try, and he had always found comical that such small creatures thought they had a chance with him, so he let them do so, wanting to see for how long they would try before giving up like all their predecessors.

All was well, truly, fish was abundant in his territory and the small shiver usually wasn't out for too long with the aliens roaming around. But still Nightmare had to leave the nest to make sure no one tried to mess with his borders.

He should have been more careful. He was watching, looking out for any alien, so focused on their potential presence that he didn't hear the screeching noise in time and was hit on his side by a ghost leviathan as big as him. He could fight back, of course, he was strong enough to make this leviathan get out of his territory, but the surprise combined with the sudden sharp pain slowed him in his reflexes and he was hit a second time before he managed to attack and push the ghost leviathan away with more struggle than he would have liked it. Luckily for him, it wasn't another mer.

The wounds were bad. Very bad. He couldn't stay outside like that and most importantly: he couldn't stay this size or he would never heal. Well, he would, but incredibly slowly, and he couldn't afford that. He had to switch back to his smaller form, the healing would be long too, but much less long than in his current big form, as his body wouldn't need as much energy. But he had a problem: he wasn't alone anymore in his cave, there were three sharks that Nightmare knew would be bigger than him once he would turn small. He would be a prey to them. They were courting, yes, but they were courting because he was a massive leviathan capable of protecting them, but once they would see him small and hurt, unable to fight them three at the same time ? They would have the perfect opportunity to kill him and claim his territory with all the resources it contained. They wouldn't think about courting him anymore, that Nightmare was sure. But still he had to go back, he couldn't stay in the open.

He switched back to his small form as to lose less blood as he swam close to the ground, one arm around his wounded waist and the other using the branches and rocks on the ground as holds to give him the impulsion to move faster, trying to stay focused on the noise around him, praying he wouldn't attract any predator with the smell of blood.

When he arrived at the entrance of his nest he was panting, his vision blurry and whole body aching. He slowly looked inside but didn't spot anyone. They must have been out hunting. Good. He didn't want them to see him. He quickly, or as quickly as he could, dived into the deeper part of the cave, looking for a dent in the wall in which he could hide. He found one hidden behind seaweeds and moved them slightly to the side to sneak inside the dent. He laid on the moss on the floor, exhausted and shaking, his whole body in pain. He needed to gather food and materials to heal the wounds, but his body was refusing to move and his vision was becoming darker... he needed to stay awake, he had to, he couldn't sleep now, but he felt so, so drained...

He opened his eye when he heard his name being called. Was the shiver back from their hunt ? Nightmare curled up a little more on himself, not answering. He heard them swim around for a few seconds, and the weeds masking the entrance of his dent were moved aside as Horror appeared in front of him. Nightmare tensed, baring his fangs and curling two tentacles around himself to hide the wound as the others were ready to strike. Horror looked at him for a while without talking, but clearly analyzing him as he frowned, turning back to call the other two. Nightmare tried to get up, not wanting to seem weak in front of them. "Don't move" Horror told him with the same firm but gentle tone he used when Dust or Killer hurt themselves on hunting sessions and wouldn't stay still as he healed them. The two arrived rapidly, Killer's arms still full of fish, and both stopped to stare at the small leviathan. They had smelled blood when entering the cave, and they apparently weren't wrong.

Killer got closer, Nightmare growled, and he stopped, slowly taking a fish to hand it to him, but Nightmare didn't move, his gaze planted in the boneshark's. Killer put the fish down at the entrance of the nest and pushed it towards him, repeating the maneuver with three more fish before finally backing off. Dust wasn't here anymore, Nightmare hadn't seen him leave, focused on Killer. "You should eat", he said, "Dust went to fetch some large weeds to make bandages" he added when seeing his, almost frightened, gaze going from Killer and Horror to the spot Dust was previously in. They were truly stupid if they thought this "pretending to care" would make him lower his guard.

Dust came back with the weeds, but didn't dare approach when Nightmare growled at him. He put it near the entrance, and joined the other two a little farther. They had established a new small nest closer to the dent but still far enough to leave him some intimacy. He hadn't touched the fish yet, not feeling like eating. Why didn't they attack yet ? He couldn't move much, his body stiff from the pain, and couldn't turn back to his more massive form as he was in a way too small dent to do so. He was at their mercy, truly, and yet they were chatting a few meters away like nothing happened. Maybe they were waiting for him to fall asleep to kill him without risking getting bitten ? But how would he manage to stay awake for so long ? He was still so tired... he would wait for them to fall asleep first, and then he would take small naps after small naps, see if it helped...

It didn't help. He felt so tired still. Horror was in front of him, outside the dent, but still looking at him, the other two were outside. "Eat" he ordered him, and Nightmare barely had enough energy to growl back, not liking his tone of voice, but he knew he had to eat or else he wouldn't heal. He slowly reached out to grab one of the fish, munching on it without much conviction despite the hunger. He almost fell asleep with the half-eaten fish in his mouth. Horror didn't move from his spot, only turning his back when he had finished the fish, seeming satisfied. No one attacked him this day either.

He kept taking small naps, but each time he looked they hadn't move from their sleeping pile. Still, Nightmare was cautious. No one attacked him the next day, Dust tried to approach him again but backed off when seeing his gaze. Horror and Killer both frowned at that, but Nightmare didn't care. He didn't want them near him.

The few days that followed were roughly the same: Killer went out, Nightmare didn't know if it was for hunting or something else as he often came back without any catch, Horror made sure he ate at least one fish by staring at him until he gave in, and Dust tried to approach him only to fail and back off. Neither of them tried attacking him and Nightmare started to doubt they would do it one day. Why wait after all ? Why make sure he ate and try to bandage his wounds if they wanted to kill him ? It wasn't logical. None of this was logical, from Dust and Kiler spending so much time outside only to come back without fish to Horror never leaving the front of the dent like a guard. Nightmare didn't understand. He didn't understand what they were trying to do. "Dust and Killer patrol on your territory, since you're not in the right condition to do it yourself", Horror had answered when Nightmare asked him where they were going everyday. They were patrolling ? Protecting his territory ? He didn't need someone to protect his territory. At least not before. Now... he appreciated the help. He didn't need another leviathan claiming his lands while he was away. "And you ?" Nightmare had asked, "I stand guard here, make sure no one tries anything", he had answered, but Nightmare wasn't satisfied, "why not stand guard outside ?" He had asked again, "you're not outside" Horror had said. Nightmare didn't answer.

Dust tried to approach him again this day. Nightmare didn't growl, he looked at him for a while before resting his head on the moss and letting the stalker come closer. The three sharks exchanged a surprised look, and Dust grabbed the weeds and entered the dent, slowly getting closer to the injured leviathan. He looked at him again, to make sure it was okay, and grabbed some moss to clean around the wounds. Nightmare tensed, and Dust stopped. They stared at each other for a while, but as Nightmare didn't move, Dust went back to cleaning, carefully, slowly, he then wrapped the seaweeds around the wounds. Nightmare looked at him work, seeing how delicate he was, how patiently he had been waiting for the authorization when he could have given up right from the start, or simply not try at all. And yet here he was, after maybe a week or more, Nightmare had lost count, cleaning his almost infected wounds and wrapping them in weeds, before leaving again once the job was done, not wanting to invade his personal space for too long. Nightmare kept watching the bandages for a while before grabbing one of the fresh fish Killer had brought him after their hunt. He didn't understand them.

Dust kept coming back every day to check on the wounds, always waiting for Nightmare to authorize him to approach before moving.

And so Nightmare was here, in his dent, thinking about everything that had happened in these past weeks, in these past days, how he let them near him and how they never once tried to take advantage of his situation, instead guarding his territory and bringing him food, keeping his wounds clean as to heal better. He looked at Horror, he was laying down a few meters away, his eyes were closed but Nightmare knew he wasn't sleeping, he was always listening for any suspicious sound, making sure no one, except for his two mates, entered the nest.

Nightmare felt a warmth spead in his ribcage when looking at the sand shark. The other two were outside, he was alone with him, and didn't feel in danger. He felt... safe. He couldn't explain it, but he felt safe despite his condition.

Horror stood up and turned to look at him, having heard a low noise. Nightmare heard it too, but he didn't understand why Horror turned to him. He wanted to ask him, but the noise became louder when he opened his mouth. He had felt his throat vibrate. Was it coming from him ? Was he making this sound ? It was an unusual sound for him, but he had heard the others make it too... he was purring... he hadn't purred in years...

Horror smiled fondly, swimming up to him and stopping before entering the dent. Nightmare didn't stop purring.

- Can I come in ?

Horror asked in a soft tone. Nightmare hesitated for a second, before slowly nodding, watching as the shark swam into the dent and around him to lay down, facing the entrance still, but this time surrounding Nightmare with his tail like a barrier.

Nightmare looked up at him, refraining a yawn.

- You can sleep, I'm not moving.

Horror reassured. He wouldn't move, both from here or to try anything, he would stay still and stand guard just as he was doing everyday in front of the dent, only this time he would be inside.

Nightmare kept staring for a moment, before slowly drifting into sleep, only moving slightly to press his back against Horror's side, feeling his warmth as a reminder he wasn't alone.

He wasn't alone anymore, and he wouldn't be alone ever again.

Once healed he would swear loyalty to them and to protect them from any threat, to offer them a safe place and to never doubt them ever again. They deserved it. They deserved his trust.

They deserved his love.

[becauseheartsgetbroken-hs]

bestie i'm new to the world of fics and it would be great if you could recommend me some good iconic stories to read 🥰pleasee ❤️

OHHH WELCOME BABY! 💞���

Hope you'll find the great comfort they offer to all of us too!

I'm thrilled to do this so I'm gonna start immedietaly! Don't know what's your taste is so I'm gonna recommend many different stories I have loved! 😊

A Toast To The Future by @narryffdreaming is one of my favorite stories ever and I truly believe it's one of the most beautifully written stories I've ever read. 🙏 The way Dani approaches the past experiences of the characters and their emotions is impressive. I am always fascinated by stories that are authentic and the way that story is written makes you feel seen even if your experiences are not exactly the same as the characters. 💞 (can't wait to read the next part)

Maisy and Harry are just friends (except they aren't) by @narryffdreaming again because I just love her work! Friends to lovers trope (i loooove this trope sm) and it has everything: angst, fluff, romance, softness, smut, everything! Everything just flows so nicely!

When Y/N dates someone, they find their soulmate…it’s never her by @jawllines is super cute and lovely and made me giggle and blushing! It's such an unique concept and I just loved it!

Harry and Y/N are in the same ballet class, and they hate each other by @jawllines again and what can I say? Pure enemies to lovers story that has you in a chokehold. Everything about it is perfect! 😍

Daddy Issues by the amazing @fkinavocado is jaw dropping, I mean it! It's one of the first long stories I read in here so it's special to me. 🙏 Dreea delivered the great combination of spicy and softness with this story.

Sex Tutor by @gurugirl ! I really liked the way she wrote about this topic and it felt like she did it with so much respect (as she always does) and I just really had a great time reading it.

404 by my pookie @freedomfireflies 💗is one of my favorite stories ever and I feel like I have to tattoo this to my skin at this point. 😂 It's enemies to lovers and you can feel the tension from a mile. Also 404rry is the most annoyingly adorable characher ever and I just adore him. 🤗💗

Teach Me by miss @freedomfireflies again and let's just say that this series is on FIRE. A friends to lovers story that makes you feel things. One thing I love about this story is that the two characters share a deep love and respect for each other and I feel like it's such an important point.

Grumpy H and

You're my Last Shot by @cupid-styles are so cute and I had a great reading them! The flow is amazing in both of them and they are so well written.

Old Grudges ,

Just How Fast the Night Changes ,

The Sun Will Rise and

Valerie by @watchmegetobsessed are litterally amazing! Loved these stories so much! I come back to them from now and then and I have the same feeling every time I read them. 🥰

Harry’s a dick, and Y/N hates him for it. by @harrys-titties is so HSHJSHSSJ I just loved it! So beautifully written and it has everything: tension, angst, smut, romance!

Hawthorn by @adorebeaa is so beautiful! I enjoyed it so much! It is not finished yet but it is worth it! Again it's an enemies to lovers story and it really plays like a movie in your head! 💕

I got carried away a little bit hehe and I'm sure that if I continue I won't be able to stop lol. I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did! 💕

P.S Τhere are many other great authors that I didn't include in this post because I might just forgot them at the moment (sometimes when you need to remember something specific you just can't, your mind is just stuck ugh) or because I might not have come across their work yet so I don't want anyone to feel bad. Your work is always appreciated. 💗

Byeee xoxo

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (11)

SERIES MASTERLIST Part Summary: Her involvement in the case becomes more crucial than she lets on.

Warnings: Case details

a/n: I know this part is long overdue, I've been very busy lately and I can't seem to write anything good for me to post. But do not fret, I am back and better than ever before (lol) Also, thank you for patiently waiting for this update🤍

-

"I WOULD HAVE STRANGLED HIM IF I WERE YOU."

She frowned as she watched the slight furrow on her friend's brow, adding an element of emphasis to her words.

A moment of silence passed between them before Sandy rolled her eyes, leaning against the plush couch in the living room with a tall glass in her hand. "I'm just saying," she explained. "He was being a total jerk."

She let out a sigh. A slight confusion weaved itself whenever she contemplated him. She thought that voicing out her emotions on what occurred these past few days could ease her, yet thinking of him was only making her question her sanity. It was as if her mind was attempting to decipher a language it didn't fully comprehend, leaving her caught between curiosity and apprehension.

She honestly didn't know what to think anymore. One minute she felt like she was head over heels for the guy, and the next minute strangling him didn't seem like a bad idea after all.

She could even list all of the things about him that riled her up, yet somehow the thought of having her hands wrapped around his throat reminded her of something entirely different, which was why she found herself saying, "You know, he would actually enjoy that."

Sandy raised her brows. "What? Getting choked to death?"

She scoffed. "No, not to that extent. But like, in another context." She then narrowed her eyes. "If you know what I mean."

The subtle innuendo didn't go unnoticed as Sandy's eyes widened in surprise. "No way."

"Way."

"Damn," her friend mused before taking a sip of her drink. "Smart and kinky. If only he wasn't such an ass to you."

Smart and kinky weren't exactly words she considered using in one sentence, but the sound of them put together surprisingly sounded enticing. It sounded enticing enough that her mind was starting to play tricks on her. It sounded good enough that she found herself starting to miss him, even when logic dictates that she shouldn't.

And now it sounded compelling enough that she couldn't help but weigh in the pros and cons when it came to the man, putting the cons on his ability to switch attitude in a span of seconds into a completely different person—not to mention his tendency to assume biased reasonings based on poor judgment.

On the other hand, the pros were very hard to ignore. There was a certain charm in his awkward demeanor, especially in his shy and uncertain smile every time it was directed her way. Then there was also his intelligent mind she was definitely drawn to.

But above all that, he was, without a doubt, a certified freak in the sheets.

And that was on top of her list.

A subtle sigh escaped her lips, revealing a hint of her internal struggle. "I mean, he did have a good point, don't you think?"

"Y/N," Sandy warned disapprovingly.

"What? He was only doing his job..." She glanced at her. "...right?"

"This is the alcohol talking," Sandy dismissed before standing up. "You would never forgive a man this easy if you were sober."

"It's Margarita Night, what's the point of being sober?" She proved her point by finishing the last drop of liquor from her glass, the vibrant notes of freshly squeezed lime and tequila playing across her taste buds.

Sandy simply scoffed as she took her glass and disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking together following behind as she started making them a refill. 

Y/n leaned back and closed her eyes, her body poised for a moment of relaxation. But just as the first tendrils of calm began to envelop her, a sharp interruption pierced through the air—the sound of the doorbell ringing.

A grin tugged at the corners of her lips as she rose from the couch. "Our pizza is here!"

Light steps carried her to the door as her stomach grumbled in anticipation, the scent of cheesy goodness already wafting through her imagination. She slowly wrapped her hand around the doorknob and swung the door open, but instead of being greeted by the delivery guy clad in his familiar uniform, the last person she thought would be on the other side of her door stood right in front of her.

Her eyes widened, capturing the shock that rendered her momentarily speechless. Time seemed to slow as her heart raced with caution while she attempted to process on what was happening.

What were the chances of seeing him again right at the moment when she had her friend coming over just so she could rant about the guy?

It was as if the universe was playing a trick on her, presenting a twist she could never have anticipated. As the seconds ticked by, she then finally found her voice, a mix of caution and confusion lacing her words as she muttered, "You're not the delivery guy."

"I'm not," Spencer—god, she still couldn’t believe he was here—responded, his eyes scanning along her features. "Sorry to disappoint you."

There was a fleeting moment where their gaze met, an unspoken wariness passing between them. The memory of their last meeting surfaced with a wave of tension that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She watched as his expression shifted, the space between them seemed to shrink, the air heavy with the weight of their unspoken words.

Then a throat being cleared cut through the silence, a soft disruption that broke the spell of their locked eyes. Startled, her gaze broke away from his, shifting to the source of the interruption. And there, standing beside him was another figure—a woman she hadn't noticed until that very moment.

Recognition flashed in her eyes as she glanced at the familiar face, recalling the blonde-haired lady as one of the agents she met at the bureau the other day. Agent... Jareau, was it?

Yes, that was definitely her name. She was one of the few agents who actually treated her without judgment, checking in on her from time to time, which was why she focused her attention on her instead.

"Agent Jareau, what brings you here?"

"Sorry to barge in this late," she replied with an apologetic smile. "But we'd like to have a few words with you."

"It's fine." Y/N stepped aside and pulled the door wider. "Do you want to come in?"

"No, it's alright, we'll be quick—"

"Yes."

Her gaze turned back to the other man and narrowed her eyes.

"I think it’s better to have this conversation inside."

She studied him for a moment before nodding, letting the two agents step inside her home. There was a clatter coming from the kitchen as she closed the door before walking down the hallway, expecting them to follow behind. "We can talk in the living room but—"

"We're putting you on protection."

She abruptly turned on her heels. "What?"

Agent Jareau sent a disapproving look towards Spencer as if trying to say this was not how they usually handle things in this situation. The woman turned back to her and gave her a reassuring smile before explaining, "We've been investigating the situation thoroughly, and it appears that the Unsub we're dealing with might have developed an unhealthy obsession with you."

Her heart slowly raced, a mix of fear and disbelief coursing through her veins as the words finally sink in. "Obsession?” Her brows furrowed deeper. “What do you mean?"

"As you may know, all of the victims were related to you in one way or another, where you received some kind of mistreatment by them all. We believe the Unsub might be doing this out of his way to protect you."

She felt a knot tightening in her stomach, a growing sense of vulnerability she had never experienced before. "P-Protect me? But why?"

Agent Jareau's expression softened as she continued, "We're still working to understand the motives behind their actions. But given the escalating behavior and the potential danger it poses, we've decided it's best to put you under protection."

Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear. "Protection? Like... witness protection?"

Spencer, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "Something similar. We're proposing a protective measure—having an officer discreetly follow you during your daily routine."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You want me to be followed?"

Agent Jareau interjected, "It's for your own safety. We believe that having an officer close by could deter any potential threat and give us a better chance of identifying the Unsub."

Her mind raced as she considered the implications. "But how will I know? Will the officer be obvious?"

"Officer Anderson is currently outside in a separate car. He's trained to blend in while keeping a watchful eye on your surroundings."

"I..." she trailed off, then shook her head. "Will he be there all the time?"

Spencer nodded. "Yes, but we'll do our best to be inconspicuous. You won't even know he's there most of the time."

The idea of having an undercover officer tailing her sent a mixture of emotions coursing through her veins. Safety, yes, but also an unsettling feeling of being under constant scrutiny.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Yes, it is."

Her thoughts suddenly spun like a whirlwind, torn between disbelief and grim realization. She had always taken her daily routines for granted, the simple act of going to work or meeting friends devoid of apprehension. Now, each step she took seemed laden with an invisible weight, as if unseen eyes were tracking her every movement.

And to top it all, was she actually the sole reason behind these murders? She wasn't exactly the one acting out these gruesome crimes, yet it might as well happened because of her. Who could harbor such an unhealthy fixation on her? What had she done to attract this unwanted attention?

The unanswered mysteries gnawed at her.

Agent Jareau reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she read the familiar look in her eyes, it was the same look whenever a witness was starting to blame themselves. "This isn't your fault, we're here to support you through this. Your safety is our priority.”

With a deep breath, she nodded, silently accepting the protection they offered. The blonde-haired woman then gestured for her to open the door, which she did, and pointed towards a car parked a few blocks away with its window down, revealing a normal-looking guy sitting behind the wheel.

"That's Officer Anderson, he'll be trailing behind you at a safe distance. You won't even notice he's there."

The officer caught them staring and lifted his hand, a gesture of greeting. She waved back at him. "Great, I've always wanted a personal bodyguard."

Unfortunately, none of the two agents standing beside her caught the sarcasm in her voice. Agent Jareau turned back to her. "You have our number, right? You can call us anytime if you need assistance."

She did have her number, she also had Agent Prentiss' number who constantly assured her to call if she ever found anything new that could help with the investigation. But surprisingly, out of all the agents she met, the one agent she didn't have their number was the one she had been sleeping with all along.

Not that she was ever going to call him. She simply nodded out of politeness, and as she did, she could feel watchful eyes staring at her intently. Agent Jareau's keen eyes also caught the subtle interaction unfolding before her. She caught the way Spencer's gaze fixed with unwavering intensity on her, who seemed determinedly oblivious to the weight of his stare, or rather, she was purposefully attempting to ignore his scrutiny.

Sensing the tension in the air, she took a step back, offering a fleeting glance to Spencer before turning to leave. "I'll wait in the car."

Her footsteps softly echoed in the night as she disappeared, and she wasn't sure whether being left with him was a good idea.

She could feel the subtle shifts of his movements, the barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest, as they stood just inches apart. She could also feel the warmth radiating from his body, a tantalizing contrast to the cool breeze that brushed against her skin.

"You okay?"

The air felt charged with tension as he spoke, his voice carrying a mix of nervousness and sincerity.

"It's safe to say I'm far from being okay," she decided to say.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers curling and then relaxing by his sides. His lips parted slightly as if he were on the cusp of forming the words he had carried within him for so long. His gaze, intense yet searching, traced the contours of her face as if trying to find the right entry point into a conversation that had been left untouched.

And then he finally spoke.

"I'm sorry."

She finally dragged her gaze on him with an expression that betrayed little emotion. "Are you sorry because a serial killer out there has an unhealthy obsession with me or are you sorry about your misconception of me?"

"Both." He seemed to search her eyes for a reaction, his uncertainty palpable. "But you must understand I was doing my job, it was never my intention to hurt you."

"But you did hurt me," she answered, her gaze dropping momentarily before returning to meet his. "Whether it was intentional or not."

He seemed to struggle for words, a mix of emotions playing across his features "I know. I'm sorry."

She tilted her head slightly, her expression remaining impassive. After hearing the new update on the case and how much she was actually involved, she wasn’t in the mood to be having a serious conversation.

"It's getting late,” she mumbled, crossing her arms. “You should probably leave."

Spencer let out a sigh. "Listen, I—"

"It’s getting late,” she repeated, her voice sounding severe. “We can have this conversation another time.”

His shoulders slumped, the weight of his remorse heavy on his chest. He had hoped for a reaction, a sign that his apology had made a difference. Instead, her indifference left him feeling adrift, as if it was a barrier that he couldn't breach, a shield that rendered his efforts to make amends ineffective.

There was nothing else he could do as she turned to face him fully again, her eyes meeting his with a calm finality.

"Good night, Dr. Reid."

He reluctantly took a step back.

"Good night," he murmured.

Then with a nod, he slowly turned away, leaving her standing there all alone. Her gaze remained fixed on his receding figure, his form gradually blending into the night.

Doubt suddenly gnawed at the edges of her consciousness—Had she made the right choice? Was her choice to distance herself a shield to guard against potential heartache, or was it a missed opportunity to rebuild what had been lost?

She shook her head and went back inside, closing the door behind her before leaning against it. It wasn't until she heard footsteps emerging from the kitchen that she realized Sandy was still here.

"What was that all about?"

She glanced at her friend. The two freshly filled glasses in her hands were calling out to her and drowning herself in a heap amount of alcohol seemed like a good idea, even when she was probably going to regret it tomorrow morning. But she needed to feel numb to all of these emotions.

She watched as Sandy offered her a glass, waiting for her reply. There were a lot of things she could answer with, but the only matter that stood out to her was the new revelation on her involvement on the case. So she took the glass from her and pressed her lips around the rim as her mind drifted toward the disguised officer sitting right outside her house.

There was no other way than to explain it as it was.

"I think I might be in danger."

>> NEXT PART

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taglist #1

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PLEASE READ: If you already asked me to be added but you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I can see it. But make sure your blog can be searched or I can't tag you. Or if you want to be removed you can also tell me. Thank you :)

Don’t forget to interact with the story!

[0-p01ssum]

But then I need your voice As the key to unlock all the love that's trapped in me So tell me when it's time to say I love you

Accurate Fan art❌ Stereotypical Punk ver.✔️

Little update and venting below ⤵

Hi...?

So, yeah... I've been beta-reading the fic and doing some very-much-needed corrections (I was like ewww I really posted it like this?? but also I'm glad for being able to find mistakes cause that means my writing improved somehow).

A few weeks ago I corrected chapters 1, 2 and 3 and part of chapter 4, but the truth is I didn't really want to read that chapter again (those who already got to that part will understand).

By now I guess it's pretty obvious the amount of "projection" I put in Limbo, and it's been like a way for me to tell things differently. Lately I've been going through things and different people came to me saying "let's talk if you need it", and I appreciate that a lot, really, I still don't understand why people I don't even know irl would do that for me and it scares me? but it also means a lot to me.

The thing is... I feel like I've talked about my shit more times than I can even recall. I've been to therapy, had medication blah blah. And yet here I am, overthinking 24-7, which means that having talked things out like a million times didn't solve anything.

But yeah, there's this one person I've talked to about that, and just when I was like "what if I just delete everything and do as if it never happened lol", they messaged me and said "going to a friend's, wanna come?", and so I did and well, it looks like I just needed some beer, pot and playing Overcooked with friends while listening to Blur and Radiohead.

That was on Thursday. On Friday I finally managed to reread chapter 4 and correct it, and also corrected chapters from 5 to 7 (Eng versions).

The thing is, bless this person. I don't know what I've done so right that they are in my life and always show when I need it most and I couldn't be more grateful.

Since I started this project I never posted something like this before and it's weird even for me but HEY, this blog just turned 12 the other day yayyy, and it has always been like a "safe place" to me and I love it.

When I was working on c.14 I was like "I can't wait to get to c.15 cause I've got that one more figured out than this one" and 😅 writing is hard when your brain is busy overthinking crap I guess.

Yet I've been posting designs and stuff so not to abandon it completely. Now I think I'm feeling better and ready to continue writing.

Last thing I wanted to say was thank you, to those who been following the story and interacting with it, I love to read your feedback and listen to people's theories. Not gonna lie, when I posted c.1 I almost shit myself and that feeling didn't leave, I'm feeling that rn, and those interactions are 95% of why I sit and continue with the story.

Am I giving too much importance to a silly fanfic? Probably, but I don't know, I guess I actually enjoy it. I've always imagined stories in my head and this is the first time I do something with that.

And yeh that's all. Sorry, thank u etc. See u when fucking c.15 is finished ✌️

[blindmagdalena]

thoughts on ep 4?

ohhhh man this is gonna be really long and disjointed because i just finished the episode. i'm just gonna be focused on the homelander stuff here bc i feel like that's what we're all here for lol

the energy he brought to that whole situation gave me the most intense anxiety. i feel like not even he was entirely sure how all of that was going to go down, but as soon as he was there, all these memories that he had repressed started flooding to the surface. obviously his relationship with Ryan is causing a lot of his trauma to come to the forefront, and this is the culmination of that.

i think what caught me the most off guard was how run down the place looked. a concrete basement with shoddy computers and post-its everywhere. a bunch of techs. it was so small, and yet it's like homelander said. it was a lot bigger when he was a child.

it was their day job. it was his whole world.

that very first moment when Marty calls him John, and he corrects "Homelander," in that boyish voice, i almost burst into tears.

the moment where he's staring at the incinerator made me feel ill for him. i already knew what was coming, and it didn't disappoint.

"I had nightmares about that exact moment, and you can't even remember it."

i had chills throughout this entire scene. it was such a succinct way to lay out how dehumanized he was his entire life. that so many people stood by and were so desensitized to his torture. they tuned out his screams entirely and played little games to pass the time. all while he watched.

this time, when Marty calls him John, there's no quiver in his voice. "Homelander," he corrects firmly, smile tight and closed. direct eye contact, waiting for a challenge. but they won't. he knows no one will stop him. not just because they can't... but because they simply won't. they wouldn't save a child. why would they save Frank?

"You're sorry? Now?"

this whole scene is such an interesting parallel to his conversation with Vogelbaum in s1, where he asks, "You want forgiveness? Now?"

something he rightfully denied Vogelbaum. in this instance, however, we see Homelander enacting his vengeance and giving that forgiveness... but only once they're dead. only once they'd paid his price. once they've suffered as he did. I forgive you.

the only time anyone expresses remorse for what they've done to him is when they're faced with it. when the regret eats away at them not for the harm they caused, but the damage done to the world, or to their own safety.

immediately following that, we see him call Marty over and not just apologize, but very specifically he asks, "Can you forgive me?"

it's perfect foreshadowing for what he's about to do to him. can he forgive the same thing Homelander is about to?

the scene that follows is so profoundly uncomfortable i had a lot of trouble watching. the reality of Homelander's life and teenage years is something that we as a fandom have always been very cognizant of, but seeing it addressed so plainly on screen was both nightmarish and vindicating.

i remember being really squicked out by his comment regarding Ryan getting Zoe pregnant, but it makes total sense that raising Ryan is bringing a lot of his own childhood sexual trauma to the surface. there's SO MUCH to be addressed here that it could be it's own post. but what's great is when Homelander calls an end to it: it's the moment Marty says he's sorry.

"I forgive you, Marty."

this is all about Homelander accepting what happened to him. facing it and the people who were part of it head on.

speaking of...

BARBARA. i know she's public enemy #1 right now, and rightfully so, but i found her so profoundly interesting. did she know Homelander was there? she didn't seem surprised at all. why would she come without backup? how did they even contact her with everything shut down? i don't know, but whatever the case, i really got the impression she already knew what she was walking into. she made a real attempt to get Homelander away from the other scientists, but he wasn't going to be swayed. they were already doomed.

she antagonized him. They were just doing what I told them. It's not their fault. It's mine. Leave them alone.

it's very apparent to me that among his fractured personalities, she represents the kinder motherly one. she, like Stan Edgar and Vogelbaum, are elevated above the other scientists. she's a figure of authority and she spoke to him as such.

"They were scared."

"I was a child."

"They were scared!"

and he does recoil at that. we KNOW Homelander hates being feared. it was his trigger with Madelyn, it's what kept him from lasering that crowd, and it's a blatant, desperate lie when he says to Starlight, "...being feared is a-one okie doke by me."

"Everyone was terrified of you from your first breath."

she breaks his heart a hundred times in this scene. from the reveal that he killed his mother in the same way Vogelbaum told him his son did—the source of that lie?—to the statement that their greatest success was making him obedient by withholding love. by turning his heart into a pit of need.

a sharp juxtaposition to Vogelbaum's You're my greatest failure.

and then she says to him no matter what you do, you will always be human.

here's the thing about Homelander's humanity. he doesn't associate it with kindness or love. he associates humanity with all the worst things that have ever happened to him. cruelty. selfishness. betrayal. his entire life he's been used and abused by the people who were supposed to protect him.

of course he doesn't want to be human. doesn't want his SON to be human. look at what humans have done to him. they're vile, they're vicious, they're dirty.

in another life, that desire could have been his drive to be good. if he'd only had a single fucking example of it.

"I'm not human. And neither is my son. And I'm gonna raise him so that he knows it."

in other words, he'll raise his son the way they failed to raise him. Homelander wants desperately to raise his son with the love he never had. he just doesn't know how to.

ultimately, like Vogelbaum and Stan, Homelander can't bring himself to kill her. he tears apart the people she tried to save, and he leaves her to stew in her own fucking mess.

[nubesrosasart]

✨️long story-time post. Just in case, tw: not gonna go deep in detail, but just in case.✨️

These were my first BG3 sketches i did a year ago! My first playthrough was completely blind. I was new to dnd too.

My first playthrough i picked a sorcerer durge. my gal, Lydia, a human draconic sorcerer, resist durge.

For a while didnt know what i was doing.

Now i have around 14 playthrough, and five of them finish. Got into dnd, got some of the books, and last month played for the first time.

The game helped me get out during a bad moment of my life. i was in bed with a broken ankle for months. i was depressed-i stopped drawing, doing anything i enjoy, even listening to musc. I was just in bed sleeping all day. Till one day, mindlesly scrolling, saw a funny video of astarion, his reaction when that temple fell on him, and impulsively got the game.

That moment i started, and that very moment i met laezel, i was on board.

I trusted that green angry strong lady. And fell in love with her strong and yet honest approach.

I initially didn't like shadowheart, but that later changed.

My first romance was with Astarion. It started with him lol

My main team usually were Astarion, Gale and Lae'zel, thou i was changing and mixing it up depending where we were and who i thought this area or part of the story is more connected or appropiate for each characters.

I was smitten with Gale Act 2 romance scene. I thought that scene was ✨️magical✨️ and he indeed wow me 😆

And all the way to act 2, when you let shadowheart choose, and she chose not to kill dame aylin. My jaw dropped. And more so when aylin transforms. I felt goosebump. And at that very moment, i felt this is peak game storytelling.

Then that scene with Myrkul. That boss entry and music! I thought this a dark souks moment gaming lol (fyi i played a lot of fromsoft games)

Then having Jaheira and Minsc. Halfway is when it dawned on me that these are characters from the previous Baldurs Gate game. Well, that scene when you confront Sarevok i was like ooooh wait you all know each other lol And i loved Jaherira. I loved when she calls you 'cub' and felt motherly in a way if you are a resist durge.

I felt it was epic hero quest the moment you have to save Duke Ravengard, then leading to Ansur. I remember jokingly saying this gonna be a dark souls moment if i have to fight a dead dragon. then proceed that dead dragon fight. Took me off guard and barely survive, lol it felt that this was Wyll's epic heroic quest and story, and i was just tagging along with him.

I only later realize that Wyll deserved more, and should have more in his story. I hated how for him and also i felt also for Karlach in the choices, there wasnt really a better solution for them.

Also, the fight against Cazador. I died a lot. But eventually, we beat him. Astarion’s breakdown left me speechless for a moment. And then when he thank you for saving him and breaking the cycle. I felt this was wholesome. And a nice development of his story and character.

But i felt that the better character development was with Lae'zel. From being a blind follower to have her eyes open. The poetic way she expresses herself. The passion in her tone and voice. The close similarity of her and shadowheart of following blindly without question hit close to home for me for how i was raised. And how Laezel choose instead to break the chains was epic. More so, when at the end, she hops on the red dragon, the smile she gave you, and then flew away to a greater purpose and renewed inspiration. i thought that was epic. And wish my character could've joined her in the epic quest.

Then came Karlach breakdown after beating Gortach. And i have to stop for a moment. The voice acting, the hurt, in that voice felt ao real. It hurted a lot when she say abd hiw she say we will live and she will die (somethign to that effect), i felt powerless. And that also hit hard for me in a personal level. Dunno how to explain without going into much of my personal life detail.

And then shadowheart. When she found her parents and you let her choose what to do. She was free from shar, and she chose to let her parents die and be with selune. It was bittersweet. But that afterward scene, when she breaks down. I had to stop there. I felt horrible and sad for her. At that moment, i cried too. And i still dont know why from every other story, i felt a strong reaction to this one of shadowheart. But from then on every next playthrough, i make sure her parents lived. I think i just hate how even thou she did the correct thing at the end, she was alone. And is more lonely for her if you arent romancing her. And i also i guess is just me internalizing. Growing up with very religious family messes you up, and i think that's why i felt strongly for shadowheart choices and endings.

Anyway, sorry for the long post. These are things i wanted to share, but I didn't have a place to put my thoughts till now. I wish to share more later because this game is important for me and how it helped overcome a moment in my life. i felt hopeless and unmotivated and depressed. This was my experience with the game, from my first blind playthrough i just wanted to share briefly. Sorry for any typos and thank you if you did read all these random small thoughts of my experience with the game.

[chunkypossum]

2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

(If you're in my answers consider yourself tagged if you'd like to play!!)

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024? 619,247... with the way A03 calculates I don't think that's entirely accurate but that's what it says... I would take off 225k and guess it's more around 350-400k

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

18, those event weeks really had a chokehold on me

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

I have only posted a couple of WIP this year. I have stared at least 20 more, but have yet to post anything on them. Hopefully, I will have them all organized by this evening so I can start with my 2025 goals of getting them all done or at least well on their way!

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

I had the best time with What We Deserve!! It has to go at the top of the list.

Honorable mention would be Mother Save Us From Your Twisted fate just because it came out of nowhere and I think I started the first part and finished it in a day or two like a madman and posted without really giving it a second look. Truly a fic of strange passion.

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

probably Lighthouse in the Woods. Exploring a poly dynamic in a fic I didn't originally intend to be poly was an interesting choice for my brain lol but a fun and rewarding challenge!

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

Under the Weeping Beech shocked me just because it demanded I write it but there was very little reward with how sad it is. Y'all know I love sad angsty shit but I always seem to find a way to make everything ok in the end. Not so much this time but I simply couldn't make myself write it any other way. This was how it was supposed to be

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

Everything kind of went how I expected it to this year, but a fic that went under MY OWN PERSONAL RADAR was When Even Moonlight Burns. I adore the outline but couldn't make myself get serious about it this year. I'm waiting for my depraved self to rise to the surface for that one. It needs to be a beautiful disgrace

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

I'm not sure I could name anyone without naming EVERYONE. If you have created Azris, you're on this list.

@queercontrarian inspires me daily with her work. Her attention to detail and the fashion work in her pieces are notches on my bones, that's how permanently they have changed me. I find myself staring at them for entirely too long to be appropriate and keep coming back to revisit my favorites!

@elleybug has a vision for her art that speaks to me on a cellular level. Every single piece supplies me with endless amounts of emotion that just make me want to create and create and create!

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

This question is really testing my memory because every time I read something I get inspired. All of you are just too damn good so if I forget to tag you it's only because I am stupid or I simply haven't been able to get to your amazing work yet BUT I WILL... and not because you don't belong on this list!!!

@fieldofdaisiies for her sweet pieces, @born-to-riot for her funny pieces, @acourtofladydeath for her thoughtful pieces, @secret-third-thing for her weird pieces, @iftheshoef1tz for her poetic pieces, @g00seg1rl for her horny pieces, @pippsmcgee for the dazzling intricacy of that piece she is teasing me with @talibunny30 for characterization in that nesta fic that wont leave me, @jules-writes-stories for the emotion she brings, @the-darkestminds for her dark mind that's like a twin flame, @mistandmemories for all that edging and absolute adorableness, @yanny-77 for the mastery of the dynamics between characters, @fourteentrout for the delicious intimacy, @brunetterebel010 for the vulnerability, @neciebee for the lyrical prose, @whisperingmidnights for the soulful prose, @mudandmire for the gorgeous and unique ideas, @unanswered-stars for the heartbreaking beauty!

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

so so many this year! Special mentions to @jules-writes-stories, @the-darkestminds, @mistandmemories who I really consider to be the big three of 2024 for me! Following along each of your beautiful stories this year has been a highlight!

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

not this year!

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

Everything I managed to finish lol. I was worried it would be nothing at all!

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

I work best when I am just dishing out what's been gnawing at me, and trying to participate in too much just for the sake of it was too draining!

14. Any advice you’d like to share with new or aspiring writers?

It's fanfic, take the pressure OFF and just write the thing! If there is a story in your heart you really want to have exist in the world, you need to get it out and let it breathe! Don't focus on numbers or style or craft while you're just getting started. Have fun and create because you NEED to, everything else can come later.

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

I have approx 12347576412 projects I would like to get written... I'm here to mass produce simply because I can't keep up with my brain. LOL. But truly if I can get one full multichapter fic completed this year I will be very happy!

[blackbirdie1234]

The Strange Encounter

Paring: Embry Call x Reader!

Here is the link to part 2.

This is my first time writing a fan fic. If you guys like it let me know! I'm going to post part 2 very soon! Hope you enjoy :)

No warnings

Summary: You recently moved back to Forks after not being in the town since you were eight. When your old friend Jacob Black asks you to come to a party down at La Push you accept. What's the worst that could happen?

It was a calm and cool fall day in Forks. You are helping your mom at the bookstore she owns. As you stock the shelves you look out the window and see a group of guys around your age walking. You recognize one of the faces "Oh my god, Mom is that Jacob Black?" you ask in shock. Your Mom comes over to you with a confused look on her face "Oh wow, yes it is honey" Your mom pauses for a moment and smiles "Well hasn't he grown" You look at her, she has a smug smile on her face "I almost didn't recognize him, he chopped all his hair off" you point out. "why don't you go out and say hello" your mom says with a grin. "I haven't seen him since I was 8 mom, he probably doesn't even recognize me, and take that smile off your face he definitely is not my type," you say as you both laugh, your mom walks away as you continue to stare out the window for a moment noticing a cute boy standing next to Jacob. You used to live in Forks when you were young and just recently moved back but you didn't have many friends besides Jacob, so you still consider yourself the new girl in town.

As you finish cleaning up the store you look down at your watch 6:00pm. "Oh shit, I gotta get going," you say to yourself. You grab your bag and your keys and lock up the store. From the distance you can hear a group of people laughing and talking loudly, you look up and see Jacob and his friends walking down the street coming towards you. You turn and start walking to your car not wanting to run into them, you aren't sure if Jacob remembers you and you can't decide if that's a good or a bad thing yet. As you are walking you hear your name being called 'Y/N?" you hear from behind you "shit" you think to yourself. You slowly turn around and see Jacob running up to you he has a big smile on his face and his thoughts are confirmed when you turn around "I knew it! I saw your mom coming out of the bookstore earlier and recognized her immediately, when did you get back in town?" he says with the smile still on his face you can see his friends in the distance talking amongst themselves, "Jacob, wow so good to see you" you say with an awkward smile "We moved back about a week ago, I figured your dad would have told you I'm pretty sure my dad and yours caught up a few days ago" you say with a bit of confusion "Yeah my dad and I haven't been talking much recently" Jacob says making the mood shift " Anyways your mom opened up a bookstore, that's so cool" He says obviously trying to change the topic "Yeah its always been a dream of hers so it's pretty nice we finally get to do it" you say smiling "Thats great, I'm really glad your back in town, hey my friends and I are planning on going down to La Push to have a bonfire, do you want to come? Maybe we can catch up?" he says looking at you eagerly. you hesitate for a moment thinking it over "Uh, yeah sure that sounds like fun" you say with a small smile "Great, come at any time we're heading out there in an hour" He says excitedly "Okay, I'll see you there" you say turning around and getting in your car not noticing the eyes on you as you drove away.

You're in your room getting ready, it's a chilly night so you throw on some jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a zip-up jacket. After you finish getting ready you grab your keys and hop in your car. When you arrive at La Push you see the big fire in the sand and tons of people surrounding it. "Woah, I didn't think it would be that many people" you mumble to yourself, regretting saying yes. You get out of your car and see Jacob approaching "Hey! Glad you could make it, follow me" he says and you start walking together. He introduces you to a few people and you start talking with a guy named Quil, as you guys are talking another guy comes up to you. You realize it is the guy you saw earlier, as you make eye contact his face goes from smiling to completely awestruck. You stand there confused as he just stares at you for a moment before excusing himself and basically speed-walking to the house away from everyone. You turn and look at Quil confused "What's his problem" you ask genuinely Quil looks at you and tells you he will be right back before turning and walking to the house. You look around and lock eyes with Jacob, he walks over "What happened?" he asks me confused "I don't know, Quil and I were talking and then one of your friends walked up not even saying anything, and then ran to the house" a look of understanding crosses Jacobs face " I will be right back I promise" it seems like hours but it's more like a few minutes of sitting on one of the rocks watching the fire burn as everyone else is drinking and having a good time. You were about to stand and leave when Jacob came up to you "Hey, I'm sorry about that. He's just a little drunk don't worry about it. Everything is all good" Jacob says but you can tell something is off. Jacob still has the same lying face as he did when you were eight so you aren't easily convinced but decide to let it go. You and Jacob sit in awkward silence for a while until Quil comes back. "Hey, what are you guys talking about" Quil says in a much too cheery mood considering what just happened, "Nothing much, we're just enjoying the scenery" Jacob responds obviously trying to make it seem as though this isn't the weirdest interaction in the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you see someone walking up to you and turn your head, it is the same guy. "Hey guys" the man speaks to Jacob and Quil seeming perfectly fine now, with not even a hint of awkwardness, again acting like nothing happened. Suddenly, he turned to face you "I'm sorry about earlier, I don't know what got into me," he said a bit shy " I'm Embry, what's your name?" there was a spark in his eye as he spoke to you, like he already knew the answer, like he knew everything about you, like it was his life mission just to speak to you. "Don't worry about it, it happens," you say politely "My name is Y/N" his eyes perk up a bit at that. You don't know who he is and why he's acting so strangely but damn is he hot. Without your knowledge, Quil and Jacob left as you and Embry were talking. Now you were stuck, not that you minded having to talk to Embry, but something about him seemed off. "So I heard you just moved back here from (insert city/state name)?" Embry questioned "Yeah, My mom got her own bookstore and my dad got a new job that allows him to work from home so we decided to come back," you say as both of you start walking to a more secluded area of the beach "Are you happy to be back?" he says with a bit of hesitation, he's not trying to push any boundaries, it seems like he genuinely wants to get to know you "Yeah I'm pretty happy about it, I've always loved cold and rainy weather," you say making Embry laugh a bit "What?" you say looking at him with suspicion but a hint of amusement on your face "Nothing, nothing it's just not every day you hear someone actually enjoying that type of weather, it's my favorite too" he says blushing a bit as we come to a stop near the ocean. We've walked pretty far and we can only see the smoke from the fire rising above the rocks. "Y/N I need to tell you something," Embry says nervously.