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missmonsters2 · 1 year

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—ADRONITIS | One

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Wednesday's quite aware she has no people skills, but that doesn't stop her from wondering why she can't know everything about one person immediately.

Warnings: None.

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Count: 1.9k

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Adronitis: noun. The frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone.

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Everyone who knows Wednesday can confidently say she's not a people person, and even Wednesday herself can tell you she's not. People are strange, annoying, emotional creatures that she's fairly certain she lacks a particular trait to handle.

Of course, some individuals have unfortunately made it past her prickly walls. Her roommate and begrudgingly best friend, Enid, can be tolerated in longer spurts. Eugene is just another Pugsley, so she has to look after him. She supposes Xavier isn't dreadful to deal with. Now.

Would Wednesday commit first-degree murder for them? Yes, but that's not the point.

The point—what was the point?

Wednesday internally huffs with annoyance. She's an articulate person, but lately, she isn't.

Reluctantly, Wednesday's eyes trail to the side, where she sees her reason for inarticulation.

"Ah, so this is why you're sitting in the courtyard today," Enid smiles innocently, but Wednesday can see the knowing look in her eyes and purses her lips in a scowl as her eyes return to her book. She's finally gotten her hands on Goody's spellbook, and she's been trying to finish reading it for weeks.

But alas...she's been...distracted.

"I don't blame you," Enid sighs as she looks over to where Wednesday was just gazing. "Everyone's looking at our resident Faerie. I wish she'd sit at our table today."

Wednesday silently agrees but tells herself she didn't. But she did. It's been nearly a week since you've sat with their tiny group of weirdos. Heroes, but weirdos.

Today, you're sitting with the fangs, and Wednesday just can't fathom why. She gets your little rotation schedule, but vampires were so overrated, and from the small conversations she's heard here and there—incredibly boring.

Who cares about their diet? Wednesday thinks they lack innovation if their only choices are humans or animals (because, quite frankly, another outcast could kick their ass).

Yet, you sit there, smiling serenely and nodding with genuine interest. You ask questions and laugh at their witless jokes, and it drives Wednesday crazy.

Wednesday doesn't understand your sense of humor. Although, no one understands Wednesday's sense of humor either. That's usually the pattern. Sometimes, it feels like you and she are two sides of the same coin.

You're both very different at Nevermore. While you're both outcasts within the outcasts, it's not the same. Whereas Wednesday didn't understand people, and they didn't gravitate toward her, people seemed to argue for your time.

Hence, why you sat at a different lunch table every day.

Wednesday's mind drifts as she frowns. There's little known about Faeries as they're usually recluses, and there are so few of them. Especially night faeries.

But now, it makes her wonder. Are Faeries like sirens? Do they lure everyone in their proximity without choice? That would certainly make more sense on Wednesday, and it would explain her recent behavior.

Wednesday frowns deeper. Principal Weems has already sternly told others that while the Faeries are extremely beautiful and charming, they have no such powers.

So, Wednesday was at a loss. She was beginning to think this school was designed to be the bane of her existence. Unwillingly, her gaze drifted again, but this time, you turned your head simultaneously and caught her eye.

You smile soft and sincere but unobtrusively at her, and Wednesday looks away, her face impassive.

It wasn't unusual.

This was exactly how all her interactions with you went. Very often, no words are exchanged, but you smile and wave at her as you pass by in the hallways. You greet her warmly when you sit at their table or in class.

"Your unhappy face is showing," Enid points out, a slight upward quirk on her lips as she bites into her sandwich.

"This is always my face," Wednesday deadpans.

"No, it's not," Enid shakes her head confidently. If there's one thing Enid can say, she stares at Wednesday a lot, so she knows her roommate very well. "You tilt your chin down and glare through your eyebrows more than look through them. It's very protruding," Enid points directly at Wednesday's eyebrow and forehead. "See? Unhappy face."

Xavier is looking at her through his apple, using it to shield how he's holding back his laughter as he grins at her.

Wednesday relaxes her brows, her eyes becoming less narrow before she raises her brow at Enid. "Then what face is this?" The werewolf ponders her roommate's face and then sighs like she's been chastised.

"General distaste," Enid mutters, but then she brightens as she looks up. "Oh, Fae is coming over here!"

"Why do you insist on calling her that when she has a name?" Wednesday asks. You never seem mad about it, and it's not like Wednesday would care if people walked around calling her witch instead of Wednesday, but it's another thing she doesn't understand.

"Hm," Enid hums. "I guess it just became a nickname when she came. I mean, I guess it's kind of weird to call someone by their creature name...should we try to come up with a new one for her?"

"Whatcha guys talking about?" You smile as you approach. You've got a grape lollipop in your mouth given to you by one of the shapeshifters. Xavier and Eugene move over so you can sit down, directly facing Wednesday. "Hi, Wednesday," you say her name so casually, staring at her until Wednesday nods in acknowledgment.

She's tense as she grips the edge of her book tightly. Her eyes are steadfastly attached to the pages even if she's not reading them.

"We're talking about how everyone started to call you Fae," Enid grins, her smile wide and excited, but then frowns. "I hope it doesn't bother you."

You hum for a long moment, a sound that Wednesday hangs onto. She can see you through her peripherals. You seem in deep thought, and Wednesday can't understand why it's taking you so long to decide whether it bothers you. She wants to tell you to hurry it up so she—they can have the answer.

"I supposed it started when one of the psychics saw me in person, and all he could stutter out was 'Fae' over and over," you shrug.

"Feeble-minded," Wednesday mutters, and you smirk at her, and now she's wondering what exactly that could mean.

"It doesn't bother me," you continue on. "I mean, I guess it's fine since there are no other faeries at the school, but it might be confusing when there are. I can't exactly go around calling on a person wolfy when that could be any of the werewolves here."

They all nod, except Wednesday.

"We should try to find a new nickname for you!" Eugene exclaims, emboldened by your friendliness to him. "How about nightcrawler!"

"As enchanting as that is, I'm going to have to veto that one," you give him a wry smile. He slumps in defeat while Xavier gives in a pat on the back.

"Oh," Enid squeals excitedly, and Wednesday shirk and winces at the sound. "We could all try to find a new nickname for you until we get the right one!"

"And why should we if Fae says it doesn't bother her?" Xavier asks as he turns over and gives you what Wednesday believes he thinks is a boyish smile.

"Spoken like a true simpleton," Wednesday cut in, still not looking up. "Will that be your new nickname?"

"Ouch," Xavier laughs, the insult falling off his back. Although, he doesn't doubt that's his contact name on Wednesday's phone. "Alright, I get it. Fine, the person who gets their nickname chosen gets Fae's number. How's that?" He looks over to you, and Wednesday snaps her head up, finally to look at you too.

You seem pensive. Another thing Wednesday knows but doesn't understand. It's getting irritating with how many things are adding up that Wednesday wants to know now and can't.

Nobody in the school has your number though they all see you on your phone as you stroll down the hallway. Wednesday has heard you turning people down when they ask for your number, citing how there've been too many requests, and the number of texts or calls you'd get would be too overwhelming. So, now it's been an unspoken rule between the school that no one gets your number if they cannot all have it.

You peer over at Wednesday, and she doesn't flinch away from your gaze. She refuses to lose whatever staring game you've created.

"Okay," you acquiesce, staring at Wednesday for a moment longer before standing up. "I'll see you guys in class. I'm going to see if the shapeshifters have more grape lollipops. They're my favorite."

Grape lollipops are your favorite. Is it just the lollipop, or is it grape in general?

"Well, this should be fun," Enid bounces her seat before she looks at Eugene. "I'm going to have to say it's looking unlikely for you, bud."

"I have more ideas!" Eugene protests.

"Never accept defeat," Wednesday looks back at her book, inwardly frowning when she's still on the same page she's been trying to read for the last 20 minutes. "Would be an acceptable suggestion for me. Accept defeat in this case, Eugene."

There's more bickering at the table while Enid bumps her shoulder against Wednesday. "So? Are you going to try to come up with something and get Fae's number?"

"No, it's a trivial matter. Why would I want it? The only time I ever use my phone is when you've dragged me into your 24/7 addiction and Xavier cries for my attention."

"I do NOT cry—"

"So, I have no need for it."

Plus, would you expect her to text you if she had your number? Would she even want to text you? Wednesday supposes it'd be an equal trade of information, so you'd have her number too. Should she expect you to text her?

Wednesday glances in her peripheral and sees you with another lollipop as you sit with the shapeshifters. You've got an apple in your hand, but you look at it blandly.

Not a fan of apples, then?

Wednesday feels annoyance gnaw at her insides. It's not irregular for Wednesday to sometimes show interest in others. Knowing others is valuable information that can be used at a later date.

But why in the hell does it take so long to get to know someone? Why can't Wednesday just know all your deep, dark secrets first and then make her way out to the trivial things?

"What a shame," Enid sighs casually, looking straight ahead, but her eyes tilt to the side to stare at her gloomy roommate. "I think having a phone and texting is great! It's way faster to get to know someone over text since you can always be in communication. You know what else is a thing? At 2AM, people lower their guard down, and they're more likely to spill secrets."

Wednesday slams her book shut, standing up and leaving briskly.

Research is needed. Her father has few skills, but one of them is coming up with nicknames. That skill should undoubtedly pass on to her.

Wednesday glances at you as she walks out of the courtyard. You look over at her and smile with a wave before turning back to your conversation.

Defeat is not in Wednesday's vocabulary. She will beat the constraints of time and know everything there is to know in haste. There will be victory, and it will be hers.

PART TWO

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x ofc #wednesday x ofc #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #mm: my fics

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jeannereames · 4 months

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Shows or movies based on historic figures and events are hard to pull off if the goals are to be both entertaining and somewhat true to history. If we accept that some inaccuracies can't be avoided in order to appeal to audiences what would you consider cornerstones and pillars about Alexander and his history that can't/shouldn't be touched in order to paint a somewhat realistic picture in media based on him and his life?

I saved this to answer around the time of the Netflix release. For me, there are four crucial areas, so I’ll break it down that way. Also. I recognize that the LENGTH of a production has somewhat to do with what can be covered.

But, first of all…what story is one telling? The story arc determines where the focus lies. Even documentaries have a story. It’s what provides coherence. Is it a political tale? A military one? Or personal? Also, what interpretation to take, not only for Alexander but those around him. Alexander is hugely controversial. It’s impossible to make everyone happy. So don't try. Pick an audience; aim for that audience.

MILITARY:

Alexander had preternatural tactical skills. His strategy wasn’t as good, however, especially when younger. Tactics can be a genius gift (seeing patterns), but strategy requires experience and knowledge of the opposition. The further into his campaign, the more experience he gained, but the cultures became increasingly unfamiliar. He had ups and downs. He was able to get out of Baktria finally by marrying Roxana. That was strategy, not tactics. He beat Poros, then made a friend of him; that’s strategy. Yet he failed to understand the depth of the commitment to freedom among the autonomous tribes south along the Indus, which resulted in a bloody trek south. And his earlier decision to burn Persepolis meant he’d never fully reconcile the Persian elite.

So, it’s super important to emphasize his crazy-mad tactical gifts in all forms of combat, from pitched battles to skirmishes to sieges. Nobody in history ever equaled him except maybe Subatai, Genghis Khan’s leading general. In the end, I think that’s a lot of Alexander’s eternal fascination. He fought somewhere north of 250 battles, and lost none (where he was physically present).

But HOW to show that? What battles to put on screen? Oliver Stone combined three into one + Hydaspes because he had only 2-3.5 hours (depending on which cut you watch). The Netflix series is going to show all four of the major pitched battles…or at least all 3 for the 6-episode first part. They had circa 4.5 hours to play with, but they cut out other things, like Tyre.

Another issue, from the filming/storytelling point-of-view is how to distinguish Issos from Gaugamela for the casual viewer. They’re virtually identical in tactics (and players on the field). So it made a fair bit of sense to me for Stone to conflate them. In a documentary, it’s more important to separate them, largely to discuss the fall-out.

Some v. important clashes weren’t the Big Four. Among these, the sieges of Halikarnassos and Tyre are probably the most impressive. But the Aornos Rock in India was another amazing piece. I’d also include the bridging of the Indus River to illustrate the astonishing engineering employed. Again, if I had to pick between Halikarnassos and Tyre, I’d pick Tyre. I was a bit baffled by Netflix’s decision to show Halikarnassos instead, but I think it owed to an early error in the scripts, where they had Memnon die there. I corrected that, but they’d already mapped out the beats of the episodes, so they just kept Halikarnassos. That’s fine; it was a major operation, just not his most famous siege.

Last, I really wish somebody, someday, will do something with his Balkan campaigns. What he did in Thrace and Illyria, at just 21, showed his iron backbone and quick thinking. It’d make a great “and the military genius is born” set-up, drama wise. But you could use the Sogdian Rock to show the clever streak, at least (“Find men who can fly” … “I did; look up.” Ha) Plus it has the advantage of being where he (maybe) found Roxana.

Last, he fought extremely well--wasn't just good at tactics. Being a good general doesn’t necessarily mean one’s a good fighter. He was. Almost frighteningly brave, so show that too.

RELIGIOUS:

Ya gotta deal with the “Did he really think he was a god?” thing, and the whole trip to Siwah. I obviously don’t think he believed he was a god; it’s one of the things I disliked about the Netflix show’s approach, but they were dead-set on it. I DO think he came to believe he was somehow of divine descent, but of course, that’s not the same as most moderns understand it, as I’ve explained elsewhere. It made him a hero, not a god on a level with Zeus, and to ME, that’s an important distinction that Netflix (and to some degree Stone) rode roughshod over.

But I’d like to see more inclusion of sacrifice and/or omen-reading—religion in general. Cutting the Gordion Knot (omens!). His visit to Troy (Netflix tackled that one). A really cool thing would be to make more of the lunar eclipse before Gaugamela. Again, Netflix touched on that, but it’s one of those chance events that might actually have affected a battle’s outcome, given how seriously the ancient near east took sky omens. (A solar eclipse once halted a battle.) The Persians were freaked out. Even his massacre of the Branchidai in Sogdiana was driven by religion, not military goals. Pick a couple and underscore them.

I give Stone big props for the sacrifice before the Granikos/Issos/Gaugamela battle. It was so well-done, I’ve actually shown it in my classes to demonstrate what a battlefield sphagia sacrifice would look like.

Alexander was deeply religious. Show it.

POLITICAL:

Ah, for ME the most interesting stuff surrounding Alexander occurs at the political level. Here’s where the triumph story of his military victories all went south. He knew how to win battles. He was less good at managing what he’d conquered.

In terms of a story arc, the whole period up to Gaugamela is really the “rise” of the story. Post-Gaugamela, things began to collapse. And I would pin the turn on PERSEPOLIS. Yes, burning it sent home a message of “Mission accomplished.” But he was selective about it. Areas built by Darius I were spared, Xerxes’ were destroyed: a damnio memoriae.

Problem: Persepolis embodied Persia, and ATG essentially shat on it. Not a good look for the man who wanted to replace Darius III. That he also failed to capture and/or kill Darius created an additional problem for him. Finally, his lack of understanding of how politics worked in Baktria-Sogdiana resulted in an insurgency. Bessos was going to rebel, regardless. But Spitamanes might not have. Alexander created his own mess up there.

Another matter to look at is why he created a new title—King of Asia—instead of adopting the Persian title (King-of-Kings). I don’t think that was a “mistake.” He knew perfectly well the proper Persian title (Kshāyathiya)…and rejected it. He adopted some Persian protocol, but not all of it. After the summer of 330, he was essentially running two parallel courts, which seemed to satisfy neither the Persians nor his own men. (Kinda like docudramas are a hybrid that seems to annoy perhaps more than satisfy.)

So I’d like to see this handled with some nuance, but it’s intrinsically difficult to do—even while, if done well, it would be the most interesting part of an Alexander story, imo.

So, what events, what events…3-4 leap out after Alexander’s adoption of some Persian dress. The Philotas Affair, the Pages Conspiracy, the Death of Kleitos, the marriage to Roxana. I’d show it all, although I could also understand reducing the two conspiracies to one, for time, in which case, the Philotas Affair because it resulted in the fall of Parmenion. But the fact there were two, not just one, tells a story itself.

What about the proskynesis thing with Kallisthenes? I’ve come to disbelieve it ever happened, even though it’s symbolic of the whole problem. So, weirdly, I’m of two minds about showing it. OTOH, it won’t be in my own novels. But OTOH, I could easily see why a showrunner or director might want to include it. And it certainly appears in several of the histories, including Arrian.

Then we have the two indisciplines (mutinies)…one in India that made ATG turn around, and another at Opis. They’re really two different things as one was an officer’s rebellion, the other the soldiers themselves. But will viewers be able to distinguish between them? It’s like the Issos/Gaugamela problem, or for that matter, the two conspiracies. They’re similar enough to confuse the casual viewer. “Didn’t we already see that?”

But if they were narrowed to one, how to choose? The mutiny on the Hyphasis provides an explanation for why he turned back. But the Opis event was more dramatic. The man jumped down into the middle of a rioting crowd and started (essentially) knocking heads together! So if I had to pick…Opis. The other might could be mentioned in retrospect.

PERSONAL:

Here are five things I think really OUGHT to be shown, or that I have yet to be pleased by.

1) Philip isn’t an idiot and should get more than 10 minutes of screentime. Oh, and show Alexander did learn things from him. Stone had to make his movie a Daddy-Issues flick, and the Netflix thing did very little with Philip as they wanted to get to the Alexander-Darius face off (which was the meat of their story). But there’s a very interesting love/competition story there.

2) Olympias is not a bitch and was not involved in Phil’s murder, although I can see why that is catnip to most writers. She did kill Eurydike’s baby and (by extension) Eurydike. One of the historians in the Netflix story (Carolyn, unless I misremember) talked about the rivalry between the two wives, at least. But I think ATG planned to marry the widow and Olympias got rid of her to prevent it. Now THAT’S a story, no? But they were in too much of a hurry to get to Persia.

3) Alexander was not an only child! He had sisters (and a brother) with whom he was apparently close…and a cousin who was his real rival. To me, missing that cousin rivalry overlooks a juicy personal/political story! Too often all the focus winds up on Alexander-Olympias-Philip-Eurydike-Attalos, but man, a more subtle showrunner could do a lot with the Alexander-Amyntas rivalry. But he’s constantly cut out. I can’t think of a documentary that actually addresses Amyntas except in passing (if at all)l

4) Hephaistion’s importance is a must, but I’d like to see him treated as someone with a personality and authority of his own, besides just as ATG’s lover. At least Netflix Went There onscreen with the love-story part, but otherwise, the writers couldn’t figure out what to do with him. Neither Stone nor Netflix really portrayed him as his own person. I do understand why they can’t show the whole cast of characters. I had to do weeding myself in the novels, but I’m annoyed Netflix showed only Hephaistion and Ptolemy. Where’s Perdikkas (so important all along really, but certainly later)? Or Philotas, Kleitos, Krateros, Leonnatos, Lysimachos (later king of Thrace)? I think viewers could probably have handled at least another 5 people, especially if introduced gradually, not all at the beginning.

This brings me to….

5) Alexander’s apparently very real affection for the people in his orbit, from personal physician (Philip) to childhood pedagogue (Lysimachos [not same as above]) to Aristotle to various other philosophers. He was so loyal to his friends, in fact, he initially jailed the people who brought word of Harpalos’ first flight.

He needed to be loved/appreciated and wanted to give back to people. Yes, generosity was expected of kings, and as a king (THE king), his generosity had to excel that of anybody else. But he seemed to genuinely enjoy giving presents. I think of him like that one friend who heard you say you liked that cute pair of “Hello, Kitty” socks…then 6 months later they’re your Christmas present from them. Some of his gifts were grandiose, but not always. I love the dish of little fish (probably smelts) that he sent to Hephaistion, presumably just because his friend liked smelts!

To me, point #5 would be easy to get in with a skilled scriptwriter, tucked into the corners of other scenes. It’d be fun to highlight the personal side. If we can believe Plutarch, he was a PRODIGIOUS letter-writer. Also, he loved to hunt, so that’s another thing. And he loved the theatre, and to watch sport. These would all be very humanizing details.

I think the biggest issue is that most of these documentaries/docudramas are done by people who don’t know squat about Alexander aside from a few things, before deciding to make a documentary/movie about him, or write a book. Their research is shallow, and even if they bring on the experts, they don’t always listen. Stone DID at least have a long fascination with ATG, but it caused him to try to throw in everything but the kitchen sink. It wasn't as bad of a film as some have made it out to be, just horribly bloated and for all his reading, he never understood the WORLDVIEW. I wrote about that some while back in my review.

The best documentary/movie would be told by an actual specialist who knew enough at the outset to craft a better, more complex story arc.

Or maybe I’m just biased because I tried to do that myself in my novels. 😂😂😂😂

#asks #alexander the great #oliver stone alexander the great #netflix alexander the great #telling the story of alexander the great is intrinsically difficult #docudramas #historical movies #historical documentaries

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captainsophiestark · 1 month

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Smooth Talker Part 2

Poe Dameron x Reader

Masterlist - Part 1 - Join My Taglist!

Requested on Wattpad! I normally don't do Part 2 requests, but an idea for this one popped immediately into my head and I couldn't let it go :)

Summary: Through a truly ridiculous series of events, you've managed to become a *triple* agent for the Resistance, being sent back to your original base by the First Order as a trusted spy after spending time as a Resistance spy in First Order territory. You can't wait to be back home, and even better, to tell your boyfriend Poe Dameron just what level of bs you managed to pull off.

Word Count: 1,522

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I tried to keep a smile off my face as I stood, back straight and hands behind my back, facing General Armitage Hux. He'd been my main point of contact for the past few months after he'd been the one to recruit me as a First Order spy, and the fact that I hadn't laughed in his face a single time that he'd been telling me all about what being a spy would entail was a true testament to my skills.

I'd been undercover for the Resitance deep in First Order territory when he'd come knocking with a bunch of soldiers because he suspected my apartment was a hideout for Resistance sympathizers and activity. And, to be fair, he was right. Poe Dameron, my boyfriend, had snuck in for a rare visit and left literal minutes before Hux and his friends showed up. But I'd done such a good job answering their interrogation questions that, instead of arresting me, they'd recruited me.

Now, after months of preparing, I was being sent on my way to find and infiltrate the Resistance's base. I'd need to be careful not to blow my true allegiances, but once I got out of range of the First Order and was only expected to make occasional reports, I couldn't help thinking this would be my easiest assignment yet.

"Are we clear on communication protocols and the kind of information we're most interested in?" asked Hux as I tuned back in to the end of his lecture. I nodded once, curtly.

"Yes sir."

"Good. Then best of luck to you. You're doing your Order a great service."

I saluted, fast and sharp, exemplifying the unshakeable, blind commitment they looked for in their recruits. I held it for a few moments, then Hux nodded and I let my hand fall back to my side.

"I look forward to hearing what you have to report."

The march through the rest of the ship felt like a dream. I was being dropped fairly far from anywhere the First Order suspected of being a Resistance base to make sure no one would be suspicious of me, but I was still closer to home than I'd been in a long, long time. I could swear I felt the latent tension of the past six months ease out of my shoulders as I watched the ship disappear without me on it.

I took a moment to enjoy the feeling, then quickly got my head back in the game. There was still a chance, however slim, that Hux was playing me. If I wasn't careful, I could accidentally lead the First Order right back to the Resistance base they'd spent so long looking for.

I spent the next week doing my due diligence, making sure no one was following me and that I didn't have a tracker on me anywhere that I didn't know about. I sent a brief update to Hux through the convoluted method we'd come up with for contact, telling him that I had a lead and was going to follow up on it, and then I finally started the trek home.

When the entrance to the Resistance base finally came into view another full week and change later, my heart leapt. It was vital to my cover that I didn't let myself dwell on how much I'd missed this place while living among First Order personnel, but now that I was finally safe, I almost starting crying at the sight of it. I hadn't really realized how badly I'd wanted to be back here until now.

I walked the rest of the way up with a massive smile on my face, scanning the crowd for anybody I recognized. I got some strange looks, largely from newer recruits who didn't know me, but then finally I found one of the people I was most hoping to see.

Poe Dameron stood just across the hanger with his back to me. I grinned and started walking towards him with purpose, and after a moment, the person he was talking to noticed me and pointed over Poe's shoulder. Poe turned around with a frown that quickly changed into a confused but beaming smile, then started rushing towards me. I sped up too, until we were running towards each other across the hanger. As soon as I got in reach, Poe picked me up and spun me around in a tight hug, then set me back on the ground only to pull me into a searing kiss. I kissed him back just as hard, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and tangling my hands in his hair. I ended up breaking the kiss as a joyful laugh bubbled out of me; finally we were together without the looming threat of a First Order solider at the door ruining the moment.

"What... what are you doing here?" he asked, still smiling and completely breathless. I laughed again, joy overflowing in my chest as I looked at the man I loved.

"You'll absolutely never believe it," I said with a crooked smile. He raised an eyebrow at me, so I continued. "I've been recruited as a spy for the First Order."

"...You what?"

I laughed as Poe stared at me, brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what was happening. I couldn't exactly blame him–I still wasn't totally sure how I'd managed to get here.

"It's the craziest story you'll ever hear, and I promise to tell you every last detail later tonight. But right now, I should really go and see Leia."

"Now hold on a minute," Poe said, grabbing my waist and pulling me a little tighter to him. As if I'd be moving away from him voluntarily any time soon. "You have to give me a little more than that, first."

I smiled. "Okay, but you have to promise not to freak out when I tell you the first part."

Poe frowned, looking incredibly nervous, but nodded anyway.

"Alright..."

"So remember the last time I saw you, when you visited me in the apartment where I was hiding out to spy on the First Order? Well that same night, right after you left, General Hux and Kylo Ren themselves came knocking with a whole host of troopers at their backs."

"They WHAT?"

"You said you wouldn't freak out! Just listen."

I could see Poe practically vibrating and fuming with delayed panic and about a thousand questions, but to his credit, he managed to hold them back with nothing more than slightly tightening his grip on my waist.

"Well, they asked me a bunch of questions because they thought a Resistance spy base was operating out of my apartment-" Poe winced, but I ignored him and kept going. "-and I answered the questions well enough that they decided I was clearly a loyal member of the First Order with a passion for them and their rule. So, instead of arresting me, they recruited me to be a spy! Of course I said yes, and now I'm here as a triple agent, so I can feed them a bunch of bad information, or information that comes just a little too late for them to do anything about it while still being correct, all while being here again, on base with you and everybody else."

Poe huffed a disbelieving laugh, just staring and blinking at me for a few moments while he processed. Then a smile spread across his face again, even as he shook his head.

"That is... incredible. I can think of about a thousand other things I could say about it too, but... just wow."

"I know," I said with a grin. I stepped back slightly out of his embrace, then took his hand instead. At some point we would have to go do separate activities on base, but I didn't plan on spending a second away from Poe right now until I had to. "Now, I need to go talk to Leia and Major Ematt about all this. Come with me?"

Poe matched my grin, still shaking his head but letting me pull him out of the hanger base with me.

"Of course. I'd follow you anywhere, you absolute maniac."

I just laughed as Poe fell into step beside me, our hands still held tight as we marched through the base. By no means was this war over; we still had so much work to do, and being back on base didn't even come close to putting me out of danger. But now I was in danger and fighting alongside Poe and all the people I cared about, while still putting my skills as a spy to full use. It was the best of both worlds, and in the middle of fighting back against an Empire that just didn't want to stay down, victories like this alongside loved ones were the things most worth fighting for.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

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shesjustanothergeek · 1 year

Text

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Ten

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: You would laugh when I tell y'all the hours I spent trying to study High Valyrian and make sure I used proper grammar. Because, like... who does that?? I still don't think I used correct grammar and sentence structure, but who's going to know? This chapter takes place over a few years. I wanted to clarify that ahead of time in case of any questions. I also wanted to say that the woman depicted in the cover art is not necessarily what I imagine the main character to look like. She has black hair like her mother, and she's not conventionally skinny. She has a semi-muscular but broad body due to her training, and her eyes are as described. Other than that, the MC can be whatever you picture. xD ANYWAYS... Thank you so much for your continued support as we embark on this journey together. It means so much to me.

Chapter Warnings: Gaslight, gatekeep, girl boss, time jumps, italics equal High Valyrian when speaking.

"I survive off the idea that one day my rage will be witnessed by the men who poisoned me with it in the first place." - Maya G. Wolf, Being A Woman.

Prince Daemon was excited when you arrived at Dragonstone. He dreamed of having a son of his own. One to train and spar with. Though he loved Baela and Rhaena, they were not encouraged to take up the sword, nor did they want to. Rhaenyra's sons, Jacaerys and Lucerys, were trained in swordsmanship but were less committed than Daemon would have preferred. They had much heavier things to worry about, like ruling entire kingdoms.

You were the only child in Dragonstone with no future prospects. You had no claims to land. None would be passed down to you as everything was already set to your father's true-born daughters. It did not matter if you were the eldest and held the most seniority. You were a bastard, and bastards were nothing but a stain on noble houses. You were lucky even to be allowed into the same wing as your father's family.

Even though you were a smudge on the Targaryen name, the Targaryens treated you as anything but and welcomed you with open arms and hearts. You were hesitant, at first, to accept their love, only clinging to a man you shared a slither of a connection with.

It became Daemon's project to integrate you into the family. It was what gave him joy in the never-ending days tucked away at Dragonstone. Furious at the world and everything around her, he transformed an angry girl into a warrior.

He saw you reborn through his gruesome training, sand melted and forged into glass. The lessons he taught began to shine through as time progressed. You eventually viewed those curly-mop-headed boys as your brothers and Rhaenyra, your mother. The family became the most important thing to you, your love for each stored close within your heart. You all were that each other had.

You had heard the rumors that plagued Rhaenyra and her children concerning their lineage. It was surprising how much people would let slip around the "bastard of Daemon Targaryen." You could not help but feel a sense of empathy for them. You needed to protect one another from the world, from the cruel whispers that trailed not too far behind each of you.

But if one of your brothers decided to pull your hair one more time when you weren't paying attention... the Stranger would have two more souls to guide.

***

You and Daemon had developed a routine here on the sandy beaches of Dragonstone.

You would run in the morning when the sun had not risen yet, and the wind still held the same damp, nightly chill in the air. He would send you around the inner grounds of the castle, then up and down the many rocky and steep hills leading to Dragonmont, and finally, around the beaches, where he would begin your proper training.

"A warmup," he would call it as you vomited on the shore, panting like a dog the first dozen times you did it.

He pushed you, sometimes too far, you thought, when you screamed, exhausted with tears in your eyes. Daemon would always say the same thing every time you nearly gave up.

"When you are at your lowest, stand back up, and spit in the face of your enemy. They will not take pity when they see your weakness. They will kill you. Do not let them get the chance." You could not argue with his logic, your pride beginning to mirror his over time. Weakness was never an option for a bastard in the House of the Dragon.

Within years, your limbs were not the soft linear sticking of bone they once were but toned, strong, and sturdy from the many bags of grain you carried. Your body no longer reflected the malnourished peasant girl but a warrior, the likes of which no one had seen since Queen Visenya.

***

"Tell me again, Maester Gerardys, of the dragons here on this island," you asked sweetly, resting your jaw on your palm.

You wanted to hear about something other than the hierarchy and the politics of the North, your mind entirely elsewhere. You knew that if you batted your lashes enough, the Maester would forget about today's lesson.

"Well, Princess, we have had many over the years, but currently, there are your family's dragons. Caraxes, ridden by your father. Syrax by your mother. Vermax by your younger brother Prince Jacaerys, and Arrax by the second youngest, Prince Lucerys." You nodded along, seeming to care about the claimed dragons honestly.

"I heard rumors from the servants of several unclaimed dragons. Ones that steal the common folk's livestock and another that is so silver that it blends into the sea mist. What of those?" You pouted your lips slightly when you talked, leaning forward in your palm.

"Ah, yes. There are wild dragons that reside on the island. Some are in the cliffs overlooking the port, Dragonmont, or in other hidden caves where we cannot find them." You smirked slightly, appearing to have no ulterior motives in the conversation. "There are three riderless dragons. Seasmoke, which belonged to the late Lord Laenor Velaryon, Silverwing, who belonged to Queen Alysanne, Vermithor, who belonged to Jaehaerys Targaryen, your second Great Grandsire. Vermithor resides inside the Dragonmont and has a large body of bronze. They called him the Bronze Fury, and oh, was he a sight to see in the skies! The way the sun would shine on his scales was magnificent!"

Maester Gerardys shook his head, smiling to himself and getting rid of the memory of the beautiful beast. "There are three wild dragons which have been attempted to be claimed, but none have ever succeeded. They are nasty, those three. And should you ever come across them, run in the other direction."

He began to turn back around, beginning to continue the lesson from before. You couldn't let him finish; you still had many more questions.

"What do those wild dragons look like," you quickly asked, almost showing a worrying amount of enthusiasm.

The Maester swallowed, returning to you as you display your best puppy dog eyes. You knew they were his greatest weakness—the brown orbs reflected in the candlelight, the small ring of violet shining around your pupil.

"Gods, be good," he whispered, clasping his hands behind his back.

"The first is Grey Ghost, the one you heard the servants talking about. He has a pale coloring to his scale and almost becomes invisible when he flies within the sea mist. He does not bother the smallfolk much, leaving for long periods. The second is Sheepstealer. He is a real nuisance to the smallfolk, always snatching any mutton he can wrap his teeth around from here to Driftmark and Wendwater. " You nodded along, urging him to keep talking until you had every drop of knowledge one could obtain.

"The worst one, Princess, is Cannibal. He is said to be as black as coal and has green eyes that would scare the most battle-hardened of men. He is the largest of all three wild dragons and by far the most dangerous, feasting on his fellow species. His den is said to be covered in the bones of those who have attempted to claim him."

Maester Garardys was worried he might have scared the poor Princess with the discussion of the fearsome dragons, but when he looked at your face, your features showed no fear. You had a slight grin gracing your flushed skin, your eyes bright, and your mind hanging onto every word he said.

"Where does Cannibal reside, Maester?" You questioned eagerly, forgetting yourself.

He squinted his eyes momentarily, unsure if he should give you the answer considering your demeanor. "He resides in the back of the Dragonmont on the eastern side." He began to turn away but stopped, feeling uneasy. "Princess, why do you have a sudden interest in the dragons here on the island? We had a lesson on them barely a fortnight ago, and if you do not mind me saying, you seemed somewhat disinterested in it."

Your smile did not falter momentarily, a lie quickly finding its way onto your tongue.

"I had decided to do some extra reading on my family's history in my spare time and was somewhat confused about which dragon was where, who rode what, and what they looked like. There is so much for me to learn," you fidgeted in your seat, wringing your hands, "and my brothers have such an advantage on me with having you as their teacher for their whole life... I feel very inadequate compared to them."

Maester Garardys gave you a pitying look that made your blood boil as you continued your defeated expression. "Oh, Princess, do not be too hard on yourself," he cooed. "This is not a traditional education that women like yourself get, but your father insisted you be taught the same as your brothers. I will remember for the next lesson to take more time with you."

"Thank you, Maester Garardys," you said, feigning bashfulness as your nails dug into your palms. The urge to jump over the wooden table that separated you and punch that soft-hearted look off his face was strong, but you held fest, continuing the doltish girl act. "If it would not be too much, ser, could you please not tell my father about what we discussed? I do not want him to think I am incapable of doing what he assigned me."

"Of course, Princess," he smiled kindly as if he was talking to some simple-minded fool and not a growing woman with the compacity to understand simple subjects.

Finally, he returned to the original lesson, speaking slower than before and explaining things in more detail than you thought necessary. You swallowed the anger threatening to spill past your lips as you adjust your posture.

You would show him. You would show all who thought the same as him how wrong they were about you. You were not to be spoken down to and underestimated, and you would make sure anyone who did would live to regret it. You were not some peasant girl with a fancy title; you were a Targaryen. You are the firstborn of Daemon Targaryen, the brother of the King, the husband of the heir to the Iron Throne, and they would do well to remember that.

***

You only had a few hours before someone would realize you were gone. You had told Rhaenyra that you were nursing a severe headache after your training with Daemon today and could not participate in your daily embroidery lesson for the afternoon. She, of course, understood, knowing how her uncle could be if left on his own with a sword and a weaker opponent.

There was only a slightly guilty feeling in your chest as you lied to her.

Years of the gruesome time your father had put you through paid off as you snuck past countless guards and servants, using the hidden passages within Dragonstone's walls to escape. There were no maps of the caverns inside Dragonmont, which left you nothing but the information Maester Garardys gave you and your instincts to guide you.

The first half was easy, you told yourself. You only needed to sneak inside Syrax's lair and steal an egg. Daemon had come boasting not too long ago about how the she-dragon had laid a new clutch of eggs, a sign that his "Targaryen seed was strong" and your mother was surely with child again. You felt bad that you could be taking a dragon away from one of your future siblings, but you only needed one, nothing more. Indeed they would survive if you just took one.

Syrax was nowhere to be found as you silently crept into her den, placing the torch you had for light in an empty holder. You sighed in relief as you gazed upon six eggs laid on a pile of sand she had made, a nest to keep them warm. Plenty would be left. You smiled as you stuffed an egg inside your satchel, positioning it with your other supplies.

The low rumble of heavy steps shook the ground, signaling that Syrax was most likely returning from where ever she was, and you needed to get the Seven Hells out of there. You cursed the Gods for this unfortunate timing, snatching your torch and scrambling out of the cave and in the opposite direction of the cold-blooded animal.

You ran further into the darkened caves, the idiotic nature of your plans finally coming to fruition as you realized you were lost. You could feel the panic beginning to rise in your chest, your breathing speeding up. Tears pricked at your eyes, and you stumbled, dropping your only light source and tearing the seam of your dress as you fell onto the rocky ground. You cried out in pain, your body forcing the tears to fall against your will as you wiped at your face.

"You will not be weak," you said, echoing along the warm stone. "You are not weak," you gritted out again, digging your palms into your eye sockets.

You yanked your arms away, readying to push yourself up and continue your quest as you opened your eyes. Standing over you in the dim lighting was a creature as black as night, its scales reflecting off your lost torch as a rush of hot air wafted your cheeks. Cannibal's piercing green eyes stared back at you, his pupils dilating as he scanned your frightened form.

Quickly, you moved to create a safe enough distance between you and the beast, wincing as you noticed the blood dripping down your shin. He tilted his head at you, seeming confused to see such a small and pathetic thing so far back into Dragonmont as he stepped closer. You grabbed the egg faster than Cannibal could move and placed it between you and the dragon, offering peace between two isolated individuals. He proceeded instantly, walking over to your discarded torch and consuming the egg in one bite, bits of shell flinging across the cave floor.

The fallen torch illuminated his body over top of the light. Rows of black horns protruded along his head and neck, teeth the size of your forearm glistening with yolk. His feet had shiny black claws that could slice a man in half. He was not the majestic creature that songs were sung about. He was a monster. A monster you would scare a child with so that they would come home on time.

No one would think you were weak with a dragon such as him by your side. They would all cower away as the Bastard Princess sat atop her Cannibal dragon. It was divine fate that brought you to this moment, face to face with the most dangerous dragon in all the realm. A creature that many men had tried to claim, but all failed, their bones scattered across his den.

You were no man.

Courage filled your limbs as you stepped closer to him, your chin held high as you took about another item you had brought. You had stolen pork legs on your way to the caverns, the kitchen maids too preoccupied with other tasks to see a cloaked figure hiding amongst the shadows. You took a deep breath, holding the first leg out as Cannibal's nostrils flared at the smell.

"Dohaerās (serve)," you commanded, and the dragon stared, unmoving. "Māzīs naejot (come forward)," you tried, insecurity creeping into your mind when he did not move. "Māzīs," you repeated, with more force, still holding the pig leg before you. "Māzīs naejot issa (come to me)," you barked.

You knew this would take some time, but surely, waiving a piece of raw meat in front of a dragon named Cannibal would yield quicker results. Still, he ignored you, his head lowering to the ground as he sniffed it, beginning to lick it.

"What in the Seven Hells are you doing?" You questioned, exasperated as you stepped closer to him.

At speed too quick for a dragon of his size, his head snapped up, his green eyes becoming black as a low growl came from his chest, looking as if he would charge at any second; you threw the leg and retreated. Once again, he swallowed it in one bite, returning to the same spot on the ground.

You looked closer, forcing your eyes to adjust in the darkness as you realized that was the spot where you fell, seeing the dried blood. Your body was faster than your mind, swiftly finding the dagger Daemon had gifted you for your first name day with him and cutting your hand, smearing your blood on the raw meat. Finally, did you have Cannibal's full attention, his nostrils flaring as he smelled the air.

You steeled yourself again, holding the pork out.

"Māzīs (come)," you demanded proudly. He snarled, the sound booming inside your ears as you repeated yourself.

You could sense his anger at this tiny creature believing she could command him, and when you repeated a third time, his patience wore thin. Cannibal inhaled, his throat grumbling as you saw him lift his head and open his mouth. You were not an idiot. You knew what came next, seeing it countless times with Caraxes, but with nowhere to run, you stared at the bright orange flames.

***

The sound of clinking silverware and laughter echoed in the dining hall of Dragonstone, even with one less member of the family. Jace had butchered a Valerian pronunciation, Rhaenyra attempting to stifle her laughter, and even Damon chuckling in amusement. Everything was going normal, each person blissfully unaware of the Princess deep inside Dragonmont.

"Mother," Luke spoke during a lull in the conversation, "could I bring sister some dinner?" No one had seen you since high noon, not wanting to bother you while being ill.

"I am sure she would love that, sweet boy," she said gently. Rhaenyra smiled, nodding to Luke and motioning him to come in for a quick kiss before going to your chambers. He proceeded on the usual route to your apartments but stopped short as he looked down at the plate the servants had prepared for you.

Luke knew how much you loved sweets, sneaking him and Jace under the rouse of them wanting something in the kitchens and not you. Both boys would always play along with whatever schemes their rebellious half-sister thought of for the day. Either racing across the halls and seeing who was the fastest, playing with wooden swords inside the castle, or putting pins on her Septa's chair if she was a "particular cunt" that day.

Lucerys went down the small passage leading to the kitchens rounding the corner with your plate of cooling food still in his hands as he surveyed the freshly baked trays of pastries. He could not decide which ones you would like more. Sadly, nothing with apples was made.

"Could I help ya' young prince?" An older woman asked, her gown a drab grey woolen color and a white bonnet on her head.

"Oh yes," the young boy answered, slightly startled by her sudden presence. "My sister is not feeling well this evening, and I wanted to bring her some dessert to help her recover."

The woman hummed, nodding in agreement as she missed tying off her stained apron. "That's a mighty fine idea, my prince. May I help ye' in yer selection?"

"Oh, yes," he repeated, "her favorite is apples, but I cannot seem to find anything with some."

"Ah. Apples are not in season at the moment, so our imports of them have been scarce, but I'll see what I can do for the young Miss. I am sure we'll have some somewhere."

The woman began her search for the fruit wandering off into small rooms and digging through random barrels until she found what she was looking for. "Do you know what the lady prefers?" She questioned as she began to rinse the red fruit.

"I believe she likes something called apple muse. I think that is how she called it," he said, unsure. The woman nodded again and smiled as she gathered some bowls, pitchers, and utensils.

"She's a girl after me own heart," the lady commented, peeling the apples. "We eat this all the time for dessert, and it's very easy. I'll be done faster than a crow's fly."

Luke smiled and sat on a stool to watch the woman work, picturing your joyful face when he brought you the food.

***

Luke finally reached your grand oak doors, knocking with his free hand. You were not feeling good, so he knocked again and opened the door, calling out your name. You did not answer, which he wasn't surprised about. He still had the same grin, excited and happy to do something nice for his sister.

"I have brought you some dinner," he said gleefully. "It is your favorite. I even had one of the servants make you some Apple Muse." Still, you did not answer as Lucerys moved further into your apartments.

Your seamstress hid hints of the Targaryen crest throughout the different items in your entry room. Black and red decorated every fabric with curtains to match. Leather-bound books and armor were thrown haphazardly on velvet chairs and benches. No doubt you had told your maids you would clean it up later.

He figured you would be in your bed chambers, knocking again on a smaller door as he entered. He nearly dropped the plate he had put some much heart into when he saw your empty bed, the sheets undisturbed from when they were made early this morning.

Swiftly, he sat the food onto a nearby stand, ringing the bell for your maids. Within moments three women came up, surprised to see the young Prince Lucerys instead of their Princess. They all bowed, one readying to speak before she was cut off.

"Where is my sister," he asked quickly.

"We are not sure, Your Grace. She has not returned since her bath after training," the one he believed was called Edith said.

"How do you mean? She must be here," he denied, panicked. She told my mother she was retiring in the evening due to a headache."

The three girls looked at each other, each bewildered and confused. "I am sorry, Your Grace, but we have not seen her since then."

Luke nodded curtly, hurrying out of your rooms and back to the dining hall, his red pants swishing with each step. He would catch the rest of his family leaving if he were fast.

He ran past servant after servant, dodging some carrying stacks of linen, some with brooms and dusters, and others he bumped into without apologizing. Luke felt betrayal in his chest, his heart cracking into pieces as his eyes began to water. His young mind went to the worst possibilities, remembering how you told him of the terrible punishment to your former Aunt and handmaid for trying to abduct you. Perhaps someone else from your old life attempted it again? That would be the only reason you would lie.

How could you leave them? They were your family. They loved you. He loved you.

He sprinted blindly, wiping at his eyes as he ran into a warm body, instantly recognizing the floral smell.

"My sweet boy, what is the matter?" Rhaenyra asked kindly, stroking her second son's curly hair.

"It's Sissy," he cried, reverting to the old name he called you before Jace teased him. "She is not in her rooms, and-and none of her maids have seen her!"

"Calm, Lucerys. Take a deep breath and tell me again," Rhaenyra said calmly, with a nurturing, motherly tone.

"I went to give Sissy her food, but she is not in her rooms, and her servants said they have not seen her! I think they took her! Like before," Luke cried into his mother's thick skirts.

"Why do you think she was taken, Lucerys? Perhaps she is just along the beaches resting as she as done before?" Luke couldn't argue with her reasoning, but he still could not help but feel a sense of worry. She gave him a wry smile, looking over to her husband, who had a concentrated look on his face, his eyebrows creased.

Before Daemon or Rhaenyra could think of their next move, a Kingsguard ran toward them, their polished armor clanking.

"Princess," he nodded to Rhaenyra, still out of breath. "Prince Daemon. We believe in having spotted the young Princess on the eastern cliffs of Dragonmont," the knight known as Ser Steffon paused, glancing at the floor momentarily before looking back at Daemon, "naked and riding a dragon."

Rhaenyra's eyes widened in shock, covering her mouth as she went to grab her husband's hand. He took it without hesitance, squeezing it reassuringly as he pulled her closer. Jace and Luke both made disgusted faces at the mention of their sister without clothes, their true maturity showing no matter how righteous they tried to act.

"I will mount Caraxes," Daemon declared, his voice becoming what he used in war. "Gather serval knights, Ser Steffon, and alert the Dragonkeepers."

"I will go with you, father," Jacaerys interjected, puffing his chest out proudly.

"No," he said with finality, "Vermax is still not fully grown, and you do not have proper control over him yet. It would be too dangerous."

"But-" Jace pleaded before Daemon cut him off with a wave of his hand, rushing to his dragon. Jace stepped back dejectedly, nodding his head as his eyes fell to the floor.

***

The wind tore through your hair, ripping it out of its pinned style. Water leaked from your eyes as Cannibal flew through the skies at lightning speed. You held onto the horns on his back for dear life, your palms sliding as he did a sharp turn. The air was freezing on your bare skin, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins kept you warm.

The black dragon had been soaring wildly through the orange skies, accelerating to altitudes where you thought you might lose consciousness before he suddenly dipped back down. You had forgotten the commands you had memorized in High Valyrian, more focused on not falling to your death and having your family find your crushed, naked dead body.

Your mind was still reeling from the fact that you were alive. Cannibal had bathed you in his dragon fire, burned every inch of clothing on your body, and even melted the dagger your father had gifted you. But you were alive. You were still alive. A dragon had breathed its fire on you, and you lived. You had only heard fables of something like this happening. You did not believe it yourself. Experiencing the contents of myths and legends was not something you thought possible.

Suddenly, Cannibal made a sharp turn causing your body to slip to one side and dangle as he righted himself. He was a wild and untamed beast, possessing the stamina of a Dornish sand steed and taking you to places you did not want him to go. You knew if you did not gain control of him soon, everything would be for naught as he brought you close to the blue waters of the Narrow Sea, his spiked wings cutting through.

"Dohaerās (serve)," you shouted over the wind whistling in your ears, but Cannibal did not listen. "Dohaeragon aōha kipagīros (Serve your rider)!" As if he was trying to defy you, he started to ascend, his body a near verticle line as he flew towards the sky.

You realized you could not direct him from where you were sitting, making the split-second decision to use the horns along his spine as a ladder to reach his head. He began to straighten out, acting as if he was just going to glide across the fluffy yellow-tinted clouds, but then, he suddenly dipped, descending to the water below at blinding speeds. You were sure you felt like an insect crawling on his back, pesky and annoying as it moved just before you could swat it.

You grabbed the horns on his skull, leaning all your weight backward to stop your fast descent. Cannibal released a thundering roar, furious that someone would try to control him as he shifted to his side, his wings pointing above and below. You grabbed the horns on his skull, leaning all your weight backward to stop your fast descent. You captured the horns on his skull, leaning all your weight backward to stop your rapid decline. You held steadfast, shifting your weight in the opposite direction he went. He repeated the same tactic, moving too much into your opposing grip and rocking you back and forth.

"Nyke emagon claimed ao, zaldrīzes. Nyke aōha kipagīros, se ao līs dohaeragon issa lest īlon both morghūljagon! (I have claimed you, dragon. I am your rider, and you must serve me lest we both die!)" You screamed into the air, counteracting his next attempt to shake you off.

A piercing screech cut through the skies, both you and Cannibal turning your heads to where it came from. You had no doubt who it was. Your family had most likely discovered your absence and decided to send your father after you. Fear rushed over you as you saw the Blood Wyrm cut his way through the clouds, its skin a terrifying granite of red and black, your father's lean body sitting atop it.

Cannibal moved to turn and face Caraxes, known to have a deep aversion to other dragons; he no doubt would try to kill him and your father in the process.

"Daor (No)," you bellowed as you countered his attempt, jerking his head in the opposite direction. "Udrāzmī ao rȳbagon naejot issa (You obey my commands)." You leaned down into what you assumed was his ear, "Tegon, sir (Land, now)."

Cannibal slowed. You could sense he was thinking, debating whether or not he would win a fight against a battle-hardened dragon, and if he did win, would he even be worth the kill?

By an act of divine intervention, he moved, descending at slower speeds than he had before, succumbing to the power of a tiny girl. He landed on the southern shores, his breath releasing small puffs of smoke.

Cannibal lowered his head, which startled you, but you tried not to let him see as you climbed off the dragon. Your hand slid along his neck feeling his blood pulsing in his throat as your eyes locked onto one another. You wanted to thank him for letting you be the one to break him but could not find the proper word. He let out a low sound, not quite a purr, but you knew he could sense how you felt as he turned away, his green eyes blinking slowly.

Your father and his dragon landed on the same beach, far enough away that Cannibal wouldn't feel threatened but still too close for his liking. He didn't recognize Daemon as a threat as he walked towards you carrying something in his arms.

You had prepared yourself for his harsh words before you even set foot inside Dragonmont. Nothing he could say would make you falter. You slinked out from behind Cannibal's large body, your chin held high and your hands clasped behind you proudly.

"You are naked," he said blandly, scanning your body with a judgemental smirk.

You gasped, all your mental preparation from before crumbling as you remembered your current attire, attempting to cover your body. Daemon laughed, throwing the bundle he had in his arms toward you. You raised your eyebrows at the pair of brown trousers with a shirt to match, questioning if that was really what he wanted you to wear.

"Come," he motioned his head, and you followed. "You have claimed a dragon in which there is much to learn. Though I am happy," he spoke leisurely, kicking the sand with his boots, "your mother is not. I suspect you will deal with a great tongue-lashing once we return to the castle."

You sighed through your nose, the sound blending into the folding waves on the shore, pursing your lips as you nodded. "It is easier to seek forgiveness than ask for permission," you quipped, pulling up the pants he had given you.

He laughed softly, smiling as you struggled to keep up with him in clothes two times your size.

In truth, Daemon was still shaken. The moment that Lucerys had come running back from your rooms with tears in his eyes he panicked, his mind going to the worst places imaginable. He did not believe you would go willingly if someone from your past life had managed to sneak their way onto Dragonstone. He knew you had found comfort in your current life. Your indulgences for the finer aspects told him all he needed to know, but he could still sense the reservations whenever Rhaenyra would display an array of gowns when a Lord arrived. Though they may have been small, the habits of your old life were still there. He just didn't know how much was left.

Despite how terrified he was near moments ago, Daemon displayed nothing of the sort. Laughing and teasing his dragon rider daughter as you walked toward the castle. He was giddy that there was another aspect he could add to your daily training and could barely contain his excitement of eventually seeing your frustrated face when things didn't go as you wanted.

It was another challenge he could guide you through as your father, doing what his mother did for him and making up for the years he did not know of your existence. How he wished he could return to the past and change things. So many things...

Master List of Series

Spotify Playlist

YouTube Playlist

I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! I feel like it was pretty controversial for me to choose the Cannibal as the reader's dragon, but out of all the options that she had, I feel like this resembles her the most. I'm sorry about the no Aegon, but we gotta bring some juice to the story. Some meat and potatoes, if you will.

The main character I created is strong. She's raw, visceral, the feeling of triumph when you cross the finish line and win the race. She's the rage you have bottled up throughout your entire life from everyone telling you to contain your emotions, act a certain way, and accept the wrong you have been a victim of. And Cannibal is the only dragon I feel canonically embodies the same fucking rage and power the reader has.

Well, I may have given you too much info on the reader that you could figure out on your own as you read.

I also wanted to say that, canonically, the Targaryen's are not fire proof. We've seen them get burnt to death by dragon fire and just regular fire. The MC only survived because she inadvertently used blood magic and sacrificed a dragon egg. So, sadly, she is not fire proof. She's just lucky. It would be cool if the Targaryen's were tho!

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @buckysmainhxe-deactivated202303, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @minttea07, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan,@dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfilit, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @buckylahey, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @iiamthehybrid, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @rachelnicolee,@sunny-boy-06

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aceofsweets · 2 months

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๋࣭⭑ ⭐˖ yeah... give me a moment...

٠࣪⭑ notes ; so, i'm back!! yippee!!! but only because i'm three weeks away from school ending and i just wanted to write silly oc lore for yowa!! ٠࣪⭑ content ; oc/self-insert, implied oc x canon, this takes place before and during the prologue, lore!, all of this is in lowercase ٠࣪⭑ disclaimers ; this is not an 'x reader', this fic was made for me specifically, if you don't like it please scroll! ٠࣪⭑ cameo/s ; just rubia (@jade-s-nymph) ٠࣪⭑ fandom ; twisted wonderland

click, click, click... just mindless spam clicking.

a series of rhythmic clicking could be heard from a certain dorm room. well, not like that was abnormal coming from the students of ignihyde, a yellow shines brightly as the student groans "booo.... another 3 star."

skipping through the gacha animation, the girl sighed. "what shitty rng luck." oh boohoo, same old boring routine. she'd save up how many crystals only to waste it on a duplicate. someone get the tissues because that's just so sad!

she closed the game to wallow in sadness as she sank into her comfortable bed. she opened her calendar, wait a damn minute-

isn't it the entrance ceremony tomorrow? ohhhh... great! a new bunch of newbies who haven't allocated their skill points yet! hopefully the new ignihyde students aren't gonna be a massive pain in the ass.. well, ignihyde doesn't have it as bad as heartslabyul at least (like seriously who let heartslabyul be so overpopulated...)

๋࣭⭑ ⭐˖

"you must attend! it is truly unbecoming of a student of our prestigious school to not attend our solemn ceremony!" the thunderous voice coming from yowa's phone was so... noisy.. but who was she to not listen to his rants? well, she was listening to him politely scolding her as she was putting on the ceremonial robes "idia's not going either tho.." she responded. "well, it does not justify your absence from the ceremony!" "i get it. I just don't want to attend in person tho."

the person on the other line of the call only sighed, why is she always like this?

"hmph.. very well, just be sure to attend the club fair!" "i won't miss your terrific horse riding skills" "eurk..!" hes probably as red as a rose right now. "see you during the club fair." she said before hanging up. she had a bit of time left.. she can play some gam-

riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!!

another call? seriously?? she has like 4 contacts on her phone, who the hell is calling he- oh. Rubia.

"what's good" "you're not attending the ceremony, correct?" "oh goddamnit" "as i thought" "no shit rubia" silence filled the room for a few seconds

"so, how was the call with riddle?" "are you stalking me? where are you?? under my bed??" "it'd be difficult to be under your bed when you don't even have a bed frame" the ignihyde student rolled her eyes "i do have a bed frame for your information." "what? the headboard you forged out of pillows? that does not classify as a bed frame and I know you know it." "it's better than nothing tho" "you have idia to pay for a bed frame." yowa chuckled.

"yeah yeah." "the ceremony should be starting by now." rubia mentions "welp, cheers to the next generation of level 1 newbies" yowa joked as she hung up.

logging onto her account to attend the ceremony online, it seemed like it was approximately 9 minutes from starting.

let's watch the newbies join the game for the first time, shall we?

๋࣭⭑ ⭐˖

okay. wow. that ceremony was... fucking wild.

yowa needed to turn off whatever device she was using right now because what the actual fuck was that. so, a random student from another world basically isekaid and triggered a level 5 boss which was a fire-breathing cat (not the weirdest but definitely weird.) that started committing arson? this ceremony was a goddamn mess, but it was an entertaining mess.

after observing the ceremony she had screen recorded over and over, she couldn't help but shrug her shoulders and feel a little bit bad for the newbie. maybe it was because they had to live in ramshackle of all places, but eh. they'll adjust to this world despite being magicless.

she was typing all of this down until she heard a familiar voice coming from the other side of the door "nee-san! the ignihyde welcome celebration is about to begin!" yowa chuckled as she heard the robotic, but lively voice called for her "yeah... give me a moment"

i guess she can wonder more about that newbie later. for now, she'll enjoy her life the way it is.

٠࣪⭑ notes ; man i've been gone from this platform for such a long time lmao, sorry if the fic and grammar is terrible, just trying to ease myself into writing again. thanks for reading, always remember that reblogs > likes, love you all !!

xoxo, parfait

#self-insert #oc #persona #implied oc x canon #riddle rosehearts #twst rubia #ortho shroud #parfait ; posts #parfait ; writes #parfait ; twisted wonderland #yowa yolanda #twisted wonderland #fanfiction #ignihyde #heartslabyul #twst #special thanks to rubia herself for helping me with her dialogue lmao

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fountainpenguin · 5 months

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Zombiewood, my beloved...

Man... thinking about how much I love Double Life Martyn & his interactions with Cleo again. There is... so much silliness going on there. Legit, they can barely hold a conversation without giggling. And the drama... Just existing together under the drama umbrella makes them fantastic story material. 10/10 soulmate pair.

Martyn's terrible game show flop. Devastating. Him getting in a fistfight with Cleo at the end of it. That little fast-paced vent he does while ranting to Jimmy about how Cleo is really into building bridges with Scott but not him, which pitches up into a scream. I love how 'into character' he gets there; it's so good...

The entire hilarity of Martyn building a giant heart in front of Cleo in an attempt to win her back, which she loathes and ignores while he spends the series fighting with the HOA for the right to keep it. Everyone constantly yells at him for dropping their property value. All he wants is Cleo's attention and Cleo just... is not impressed. so funny.

"It's small, but it's enough. Just like me." - Martyn, what??

The way Martyn builds his base "in Cleo's front yard." That's so nuts. From an in-universe perspective, I love that swivel from denial and anger in Episode 1 to bargaining in 2.

So many good tidbits throughout their 5-episode relationship... Martyn peeping at Cleo through his spyglass at night and muttering "She seems safe; she seems happy; she seems healthy" before zooming in all "Wait, she has to use the furnace OUTSIDE?? Take it inside! Look, he's ruining you!" Like... Okay, Martyn.

"This is all her fault, 100%!!" He's a needy, angry man grasping at straws. I love dumb roleplay drama. Ugh, the commitment to the bit is so glorious. What a great arc.

The way Martyn thoroughly convinces himself that Scott's the shoulder devil who swayed Cleo away from him, so he shows up to speak his mind ("We can be real, proper soulmates, but right now you're being really selfish. You let him speak in your ear! You let him tell you that I was off not caring about my soulmate! I was providing!" and Cleo hits him with "Martyn... I was the one who brought it up first."

Just... idk, the way he freezes right then is great. The "emotional damage" clip he plays right then just makes it for me. That right there is the moment that Character Martyn splinters. It's so good. And yet he doesn't give up?? astounding.

I really enjoy how Pearl took the divorce quartet situation and spun it into clingy 'crazy ex' roleplay with Scott, and Martyn went the complete opposite route and tried to woo Cleo over with grandiose gestures of affection, really playing up the "I'm a provider; I didn't want to show up emptyhanded" angle. They were so different in how they handled the break-up and I still think that's cool. They did such a good job. Fantastic season.

Martyn: I care about us! I bring the skill; you bring the vibes- That's what I was signing up for! Cleo: If you look at it this way- You don't have to watch out for me. I've got somebody else who's willing to lay down their life for me.

Like??

Martyn wants someone he can share affection with. Cleo wants stability and trust. The whole "This is better for both of us" is so good... Hilarious.

The part that really makes it for me is Martyn starting to protest "So this is what we're doing?" and Cleo softly shushes him, just like "Shhh... They're coming over."

They kick off a secret alliance they don't discuss in public... Cleo apologizing for misjudging him and extending a hand. Martyn playing the part of jealous lover who's got an open door waiting for him if he'll meet her halfway, which he can choose to do at any time if he swallows his pride... It's SO GOOD... What a set-up!

Martyn & Cleo, my beloveds... Where else can I find the goofy 'jealous ex with a flair for art and drama' + 'Annoyed ex who moved on with their life and got a new partner and a home' health-sharing soulmate combo with this much commitment to the anger and grief and forgiveness and regret... They're great.

Martyn: I don't know where I stand with her. She sort of seems to be looking out for me but absolutely wants nothing to do with me. It's all very confusing... and maybe Cleo will come back to me one day.

Well, I've got good news and bad news, boss...

Cleo giving Martyn a heart-to-heart and he quietly wanders back to his base, turns to look at them, and tells the audience "Maybe me and Cleo are more on the same page than I initially thought" while in Cleo's POV a moment later, she's like "Look, sometimes you just have to speak to him in a way he'll understand" [gameplay strats] ??? slkdjf

Cleo sending Martyn on his way with his first diamonds of the series to craft a sword with... the "Don't die" / "I promise; I'll do us proud- Don't you worry" / "[Sigh]... Do yourself proud" exchange just kills me. Martyn swivels to his softer 'serious roleplay voice' to 'pledge loyalty' to her and Cleo just Is Not Having It With Him and shuts that down so fast.

Cleo: You don't need to worry about me. I've got my partner. Martyn to the audience, so Cleo can hear: She's saying that even when there's nobody around. I am VERY confused."

Two dead, many injured.

Cleo tossing a flower in his inventory when he wasn't looking. Cleo offering to let Martyn stay with her after his base gets griefed. Also ??? Martyn and Cleo getting a house together when they were constantly fighting?? why did they do that.

Cleo and Scott on their bridge above the ravine, doing their daily axe crit to the chest... Martyn in Ep 3 whips around and yells "Do you two mind??" Cleo tells him it's their way of showing affection and Martyn immediately gets out his enchanted axe and goes for her. He looks Scott in the eye and says "At least I've got a heart" and Scott's instant reply is "Do you??"

Martyn later refusing to use the bridge because it would be "awkward"... Martyn sneaking around Cleo's house and getting upset that she joined the HOA, immediately followed by her chasing him out of her yard insisting that she didn't. Martyn's swap into bubbly music when he's in the panda reserve. "The admission fee is love!" / "Oh, I come with buckets of that because somebody isn't accepting mine."

On the way out the door, Scar tells Cleo and Martyn that he'll find more romantic music to play the next time they visit and Martyn doubles back and says "Yeah, if you could." Love that for him. All the man wants is a partner who doesn't want to kick him in the teeth. What a great episode.

I love how Martyn and Cleo interact on their weird stepping stone bridge above the ravine... He keeps pushing for "I'll take your gear and go down to the ancient city to get your enchantments sorted out," trying to kill two birds with one stone and play up that role of being "the provider," and Cleo just... keeps trying to reel him back.

"No, no, no! You don't even have to do that! All you have to do is say 'I'm sorry for abandoning you on the first day.'" / "Mmmmm... I don't understand." sldkfj. "All it takes is an apology, Martyn." / "You're not getting one. We both know you're not getting one."

Delicious self-inflicted drama. Cleo's so willing to bend and he's so dang stubborn. I love them...

Personal highlight for me is right after Martyn kills both Cleo and himself by punching them off a cliff. Scott puts himself between the two of them while Cleo seethes and Martyn apologizes profusely and he just keeps saying "You have ruined every chance of ever being with her as your soulmate. You have lost every opportunity." Cleo following it up with "Remember when I said Martyn would be a good person to have on our team?

Yeah, just drive that sense of "Nobody wants you" into the one guy who's been so desperately roleplaying affection... topped off by the fact that when they're alone, Cleo drops the loud angry voice and cracks up laughing. Your honor, they are literally just some guys.

The fact that Cleo had to save him from an enderman while he shrieked and buried under her bedroom floor. I cannot get over the mental image of "Take me back, babe" immediately followed by them almost dying twice in 5 minutes. Martyn literally runs inside and hides under Cleo's bed... they can't stop giggling. Yep. He's here: the perfect man.

DL!Martyn is so funny to me... He explicitly uses the phrase "I'm breaking up with you too" when he dumps Pearl at the end of Episode 1, and then he does it AGAIN when Ren says they should bring Pearl into the Broken Hearts club.

The whole "Uh... I broke up with Pearl, so this might take some convincing" bit just cracks me up. Ren so wanted this alliance to work and Martyn is like "... ah. Yeah, about that..."

Semi-related, but thinking about that one Reacts clip where IRL Martyn said "See, this is why me and Cleo are soulmates" while listening to them talk about his LimLife finale betrayal...

idk; that's funny to me- I like the in-universe image that character Martyn is still hung up on Cleo (and/or the mental image of character Martyn hanging out with her at a post-LimLife party, trying to study her and figure out why they were paired).

Martyn and Cleo are on the same page in so many ways... but they have different communication styles / preferences and they crashed and burnt so hard... Ah, the sweet tragedy of it all. I'd have loved to see how well they could've fared together as a team.

Cleo losing their Yellow life because Martyn scrambled towards her begging her to eat and she forgot she was drowning as she opened inventory to check her pockets... His "Leave her alone!" and "Cleo, we good? We good?" during the ancient city fight. Cleo inviting Martyn into her Red Life base. Yeah. Them... Messy to the end.

Anyway, they're hilarious. GG to them on the improv and the commitment to it, even though the break-up was probably a scary roleplay / gameplay choice...

Also that moment where Bdubs casually says hello to them while they're walking home from the panda reserve and they immediately go for their weapons and start threatening him "Your money or your life" is so perfect... Love me a couple improv troublemakers in total sync. They're my favorites.

I love them and their silly donkeys Glen and Schmoobles... Nothing like two soulmates both picking the same companion animal without coordinating and both giving them silly names in the complete opposite directions from each other. They're great.

I love them...

#Martyn InTheLittleWood #ZombieCleo #trafficblr #Double Life #Zombiewood #divorce quartet #traffic soulmates #mcyt #Bonus funny Martyn quote: Transport and property are like the two most important things. I guess family's in there somewhere as well #Also- Martyn: 'You can see the shadow of my heart on the water bed' / Etho: 'You have a water bed???'#traffic spoilers #traffic life smp #Long post #Riddle watches Traffic #director's cut

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spacedustmantis · 14 days

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*cough cough* *pulling up notes* *squinting at notes* *realising i don't have bad vision* *unsquinting at the notes* *reading the notes*

how does the life series work in the FUCK I FORGOT THE AU NAME THIS WAS ALLL FOR NAUGHT

i am so glad you asked!!

alright so. the series of events goes like this:

one day grian, as he so often does, gets bored

in his defense immortality gets boring quick and he's been doing this for a While

so, he descends onto a random planet, one that in grian's opinion could do with a little entertainment. he draws up the rules of this game he's planning, pays a carefully selected bunch of cold-hearted, skilled, desperate-for-money workers and has them build a huge fucking arena, kidnap the planet's best fighters, and work on this project full time once it gets rolling

amongst the workers are a few incredibly talented medics, people who, with the right tech, could bring you back from death's door

grian personally installs chips into every contestant's brain that activate as soon as the person is not yet dead, but good as, and then put the body in a temporary stasis, so that it may be transported beneath the arena and the medics can do their work to send them back up fully restored so they can join the fray once more

the whole event is recorded via multiple cameras following around every contestant, edited down into a thrilling reality tv show, and broadcasted weekly for a good few years, which is how long it takes for the game to come to its conclusion

naturally there are a few quirks to this game

every contestant originally gets three lives, three times they get to enjoy the experience of dying, but soon enough a few of them figure out how to hack the chips. they can't seem to alter their function whatsoever, but they do figure out how to change the number of lives the chip grants you, and they also figure out that if the system clocks too many (or too few) lives granted overall in comparison to how many deaths there have been in total, it sends alarm bells ringing. and so there is an underground life trading ring that forms about seven months into the fight

somewhere in the arena there is whispered to be a strange stone statue that, if you play your cards right, bestows gifts to those who complete the tasks it gives them

there is an illness spreading through the arena, like a common cold, just much more destructive. it is known as "red fever" to some, to others it's simply "the bloodlust"

occasionally, caused by apparently nothing at all except coincidence, or some weird glitch in the system, or what certain people might call fate, two contestants get bound together on a metaphysical level. they share pain and wounds and death. they share all the bad, and none of the good

the overarching story roughly follows 3rd life (mostly bc that season works best as a mechs style retelling), with monopoly mountain and dogwarts as the two main factions that crystallize after a few months, but small story elements of each season are dotted around the plot, like one man who managed to defeat all his enemies by taking advantage of the secret keepers boons and playing dirty, or a woman who ran in solitude with only the company of her wolves and who against all odds was the last one standing - until the man she was bound to blew himself up, and her with it.

ultimately two people survive (these people are not grian and scar, but are played by them on stage). and then one person survives. and then the winner of the life game throws himself off of a cliff

of course, grian is not the biggest fan of watching as other people slaughter each other while he sits and does nothing, so naturally he joins the fight. no one knows or would even guess that the scrawny guy who maybe likes explosions a touch too much could be the same individual as The Spectator, the mysterious figure who is behind running the Life Game, not even the staff that has been hired to set it all up. grian, alongside committing murder, also keeps an eye on the game's development as well as the numbers the show gets online.

after a few months he runs into joel, whom he knows is one of the fan favorites, and sticks with him for a while. after joel dies his final death - shot through the heart by scott - he mechanizes him, and, after discovering that mechanizing joel also mechanized the man he was bound to, takes him and etho back to the xisuma to join the crew.

#whew that was a lot #but yay!!#world building my bbg!!!#witnesses au #grian #buggy thoughts #buggy answers #better than drinking alone #bee movie (2003)#silver screen

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maximotts · 1 year

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𝙻𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎: 𝙰𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝙴𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎

a/n: I'm reuploading this out of SPITE because tumblr FLAGGED it and I'm super upset because I spent all weekend!!!! working on this silly little thing!! if you see the first version, no you don't... okay bye

✎— priest’s daughter!Wanda x college student!reader ✎— confessions AU; Wanda finally gives enough hints that you catch on, but she’s still supposed to be helping you study aka you try a more hands-on approach to learning for the both of you ✎— warnings: this is an 18+ series, minors DNI; fluff, smut; virginity loss, (if I put what I put in the first version, I'll get flagged) they're playing Doctor, alright? Go with it... Wanda’s just getting softish smut times

✎— words: 7k

series masterlist. || main masterlist.

It was Thursday and Wanda was stewing.

All week you’d barely touched her, keeping distance that Wanda hadn’t asked for nor did she want. Even when alone, you’d kiss her when she asked, but only quickly no matter how she pouted. She wanted to ask you, but each time she tried she chickened out, worried she’d be too much of a bother or come off as annoyingly needy.

Today though, she’d had enough. Wanda settled on a shorter than normal pleated skirt minutes before you knocked on her door, grinned to herself whenever she caught you staring at her legs as you walked to class. You’d given good faith effort in giving her space, testing if she truly did want you as you hoped or if she was following your lead.

The past six days of not only Wanda’s growing desperation, but yours as well, taught you that no, you really were into one another. Now, you had to find a way to do something about it.

It was funny really, how some opportunities presented themselves, sometimes perfectly laid out and others thickly cloaked in an semi-innocent request to hang out. You had to be quiet about it, your professor droning on about something you’d long since given up learning, but if you texted her, Wanda wouldn’t have answered so whispering it was. “Will you help me study if I come over after class?”

Next week’s test was bound to be a killer with how little attention you paid in class; if only the subject was Wanda instead of witch trials. Thankfully you had the next best thing to lectures at your disposal: Wanda’s meticulous note-taking skills. You’d never think of asking her to help you cheat, she was too uptight of a student for that, but she was always willing to be your study partner, an offer you had yet to pass up whenever test time rolled around.

Wanda turned to you, quickly dropping her pen and smiling way too bright for such a simple question, but it’d been a few days since you’d spent time together outside of class and she was beginning to worry she really had ruined whatever the two of you had. Maybe Agatha’s online skirt choice was magical; she’d have to fill her in on whatever happened later, if anything. “You know you’re always welcome, silly. I’ve missed you.”

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

The familiar sight of you unzipping your backpack, unloading your various notebooks to sprawl across your living room just didn’t feel right today. For all your hatred of studying, right now you seemed much more keen on it than she was.. and she hated it. Wanda hadn’t worn this stupid skirt, exposing her legs to too cold weather for nothing. Deeply uncharacteristic confidence washed over her then, a determination to set the mood as much as she dared. The living room wasn’t the right setting, not where you’d both be sat upright and away from one another. Wanda needed close proximity and intimacy and the place where she’d accomplished the most of that so far was only in the next room.

She swooped in to take your books, gathering them up and clutching them too frantically to her chest. In her head, Wanda was smooth about it, seductive and alluring; the clumsiness of her real self left her cringing internally, but she committed to playing it off, “Maybe we should study in my room?”

Wanda was walking away before you’d had a chance to respond, both of your bookbags over her shoulder and your textbooks in her hand, heading to her bedroom in a rush. Your brow furrowed at her sudden change of behavior, but she was too far away not to question her skittishness. You didn’t mind, it was just…odd. Whatever she was up to, you wouldn’t pass up getting cozy to Wanda and so, confused as you were, you followed her like an obedient puppy.

Turns out, even pretending to study was a struggle. More so when Wanda was perched so prettily in her own bed, swinging her stocking clad feet off the edge of the mattress. It couldn’t have been anything other than sheer stupidity that you chose to sit in the swiveling desk chair instead of next to her. Not that that would make studying classwork any easier.

“This is so boring, Wands, I can’t focus,” Just then your eyes scanned the same textbook pages you’d had open for twenty minutes, caught the topic of this week’s quiz, and a wicked thought blossomed fast.

“I’ve read enough books and seen more than enough movies to know all I need to know about witch’s marks I think,” Wanda made a noncommittal noise, highlighting line after line of important text studiously just as she did in class— but this wasn’t a lecture hall. Outside of school, without distractions, you had a plan and the time to boot; this test could wait.

Setting aside your books, you stood up and made your way over to Wanda, sitting beside her like you’d done so many times before. This time though, your position was for anything but platonic. Mischievous fingers brushed Wanda’s long hair over her shoulder, tucking it behind her ear to get the view you were after. “Did you know some people used to think freckles were witch’s marks? And that you belonged to the devil if you had them?”

“Yes, I did and it’s ridiculous. A freckle is just a random mark, anyone can have them. Most people do,” The brunette was overly aware of you slowly sneaking closer, rambled on about the biology of freckles to compensate for her rise in nerves. The last time she’d taken a millisecond long glance at you, your gaze was locked onto her neck so intensely she was sure there was something there. Her free hand came to cover whatever it was, but you were quicker, grabbing her wrist and lowering her arm back into her lap. “What are you-”

“Oh look, a witch.” Two fingers danced along Wanda’s neck, pattern set by the myriad of freckles you’d stared at nearly every day of your life for months. Stiff as she was, Wanda didn’t move, not even as you inched closer for a closer look. When you kissed the tiny mark behind her ear she sighed, shuddering out a breath; Wanda being so quick to rile was still one of your favorite things. After so long of thinking about you without actually getting you, she was arguably easier to set off.

You weren’t doing much, just featherlight kisses over the few freckles visible outside of the collar of her sweater, but to Wanda, the room was already starting to feel warmer. She wanted you to continue though, hoped your careless push of her neglected study materials off her lap meant you were going to, “I have a lot of freckles.”

That made you pull away, devilish smirk plain as day on your lips. Having seen a few of them in Wanda’s various outfits, you knew she did have quite a few and although you’d dreamt of it once or twice, you’d obviously never gotten to take your sweet time mapping them out. “Can I see them?”

Wanda took inventory of all her known freckles and immediately realized her own error, “Not all of them…” The majority of her freckles were scattered across her chest and midsection with some on her arms, but at least a handful on her thighs where she’d been daydreaming of your mouth for days. She remembered it all so vividly, couldn’t yet look at a picture of ice cream without squeezing her legs together; Wanda didn’t know how she had a hope of handling you all over.

“Why not? You can be a cute little witch,” Your arms caged her in on either side of her legs, kissing along her jawline for as long as she let you. Gentle lips covered the two freckles on the apple of Wanda’s cheek at once, purposefully leaving a wet mark to chill in your absence, “and I’ll be the doctor assigned to come take a look at you.”

Shaky breaths breezed over your chin in your closeness and you looked up to find Wanda’s eyes already fluttering closed and were you not so stubbornly set on your original plan, you’d abandon it just to envelope her in a hug. It wasn’t good medical practice to fall for your patients, but you never said you’d be a good practitioner. “I won’t tell anyone…”

“Uhm…” She fidgeted with her hands, unsure of what she was supposed to do when she only wanted to lay back and enjoy the attention. Playing doctor was the last thing she’d expected to be doing with you, nor did she know how to play— if there even was a proper way to let someone poke and prod at you. It excited her though, wiggling in the narrow space you’d left her with and she begged her voice to speak up and agree. Most importantly, Wanda wanted to keep herself focused enough not to say or do anything to turn you away, but at her core, even in the safety of her apartment, she was shy. “Promise?”

Wanda felt you nod your head seconds before your teeth grazed her throat, some faint agreement mumbled into her warm skin. Further down, your hand found hers, prying her fingers apart to loop your pinky with hers, “Pinky promise. It’ll be our little secret.”

The soft little touch warmed Wanda’s heart, knowing you only promised in such a way for her benefit; she always spoke of the importance of a pinky promise. Finally given something to do, she pulled at the edges of her sweater and shimmied her arms out before stretching the thick knit over her head. “Okay, doctor, tell me what you think…”

Wanda tried to keep her apartment at a reasonable temperature, but now she felt chilled, exposed to your hungry, wandering gaze and she was left feeling just as scared as she was excited. But you looked at her as if she was something to marvel at, some rare artwork; Wanda chose to believe the stare was genuine instead of for the sake of the game. That alone kept her comfortable.

“You certainly do have a lot,” Careful hands roamed over your new discovery, taking note of the small marks you spotted either from remembering them on her shoulders or new ones that caught your eye. Luckily for you, the very nature of inspections required time and detail because you’d always been a tactile learner.

No matter where you placed them, every kiss to Wanda’s skin brought out a new noise, each squeak, whine, and whimper spurring you on further. She kept still as you dragged fingertips over the pattern of freckles on her back and hips and held her arms, but then you ducked down, taking count of each mark over her chest and abdomen— she shouldn’t have shuddered as hard as she did. “I don’t think you’re doing it right…”

“How would you know, hm?” You were slow, deliberate, making the most of your doctor role by testing her reactions, scraping your nails down her back to judge her shivers, sucking and biting anything you found on a part of her you wanted to linger longer like the dip of her hips or right over the swell of her breast peeking from her bra. You could’ve lost yourself in her so easily, sweet perfume luring you into staying and worshiping her until your mouth grew tired. “Anyone ever accused you of being a witch before?”

Wanda shook her head slowly, focusing instead on your tongue leaving thick wet lines over her stomach. It was cruel really, the same thing you’d done last week at the fair, but this time there was no one else around, nothing to take your focus off her. She’d never craved attention more in her entire life. “‘M not a witch..”

Your pleased hum tickled right under her ribs, a pleasant little flutter before your teeth met yet another freckle you’d found. “No… you’re such a good girl.” The words shouldn’t have bothered her, really they didn’t; in any other situation Wanda wouldn’t be scared that they meant you’d stop once more. She couldn’t disagree though, only shifted her legs just the tiniest bit further apart as your hands smoothed over her thighs. Wanda didn’t mind being good, not if it all brought her to this, to you.

Carefully ironed pleats folded easily as you pushed up with your palms, but then a shocking thing— her stockings stopped at her upper thigh, giving way to metal clasps and satin straps on either side of her outer legs. An immodest change of dress, one that had you shifting against the mattress yourself. “Sweet little Wanda… does your daddy know you wear garters and thigh highs instead of proper tights now?”

The thought of anyone else knowing mortified her. This was only Wanda’s second day wearing them and yes, maybe she’d donned them specifically in the hopes you’d uncover them, but she couldn’t admit to such an atypical act. “I- no, it’s not what you think!”

“No? You know what I think, Wanda? I think you want to misbehave.” Wanda was staring up at the ceiling faster than she realized you’d pushed her back, skirt hopelessly rucked about her waist as you hitched her legs about your hips. The taut elastics of her tights snapped back on her with a sting that made her yelp, such a cute noise you found yourself repeating the action just to hear it again.

“You want to go out and get wasted, ask me to fuck you, and have nasty sex in the back of someone’s car like you always make fun of movie characters doing,” You weren’t wrong. She’d stopped denying it now, too busy fighting the urge to close her eyes as blunt fingernails grazed over her brand new lace underwear.

They did absolutely nothing to shield her from even the barest stimulation and between wearing them in class and now this afternoon, Wanda already felt nearly unbearably hypersensitive. Natasha was right; the only reason to wear these were if you planned on getting laid and god, Wanda hoped that was exactly what you were about to do. “Are you tired of being an angel, sweet thing?”

Correct as you were, the brunette still couldn’t say it, refused to own up to her suggestive behaviors and lose her lifelong good girl status. As annoying as it was sometimes, that’s all Wanda knew herself as, all you knew her as. What if she gave it up and you lost interest in her? The rational parts of Wanda’s brain interjected, reminded her of just who’d suggested this imaginative play, who was currently hovering above her waiting for an affirmative response to keep whatever this inspection was going. If you liked her then and still showed interest now, would she actually be losing anything?

She stared up at you with pleading green irises, the faintest hint of her nod rustling the pillow supporting her head. Her legs stayed rested around yours as you pulled back, massaging her hips as a gentle comfort while you finished the last of your inspection. You swept in to give due attention to any freckles you might’ve missed last week, arms circling around each thigh as you dragged your mouth over them, pleased to find your hickeys hadn’t yet fully faded.

Meanwhile, Wanda was barely holding on. Her upper half squirmed above you, helplessly trapped in your strong grip. Each time you got close enough for her to feel your breath on her neglected sex, she was sure she would break; everything felt too warm, too alive, body bathed in a steadily rising heat, Wanda could swear she was sweating bullets into the bed. She’d miscalculated how affected someone could be without being touched in those particular few areas. Wanda always thought the girls in videos she watched were playing it up for the camera and sure, a good number of them probably were, but the right person with the right actions could be world-changing no matter where they touched. “Please-”

“Please what? Stop?” If she could’ve managed it, Wanda would’ve screamed no. What came out instead was a desperate, barely audible plea— one that died out as soon as you brushed one final kiss to her cunt. You couldn’t help yourself, tongue darting out to taste the wet spot you very happily took credit for. Through the thin material, you could just make out the shape of her and you licked slowly, long, deliberate things that were way too easy to have looked up and seen Wanda’s mouth agape.

But everything always felt like more when it was new, and when your hand joined in, cupping her sex possessively, Wanda groaned out loud. “You got wet from this?” Instinctively, she nodded, ready to agree to whatever she needed to if you’d just let her cum. Inexperienced as she was, Wanda was so terribly precious and so responsive, you wished you’d done this sooner. “Between this and all your pretty little hidden freckles… I don’t think you’re nearly as innocent as you say.”

“I swear no one’s ever touched me before, oh god-” Wanda gasped, licking her lips as your thumb pressed into her, finding her clit as if you’d been given a map straight to it. She always knew she was sensitive, had obviously rubbed herself to orgasm a good handful of times before, but you were better, knew just how to edge her to let her see the edge of oblivion on the horizon for as long as you pleased.

You chuckled then, low and dark, a laugh you hadn’t meant to be seen as sinister; you were just enjoying the sweet and squirmy Wanda beneath you— but for her, something clicked, traitorous brain remembering the last thing she’d want to right now or ever again. The thought made her cringe and tense, the only thing she knew would ruin this moment if she didn’t confirm it for herself, “Where’s your phone?”

“My phone?” You had to stop and think, both the question and its answer stumping you, “I haven’t seen it since I came in. I think it’s on the kitchen table..” Wanda gathered just enough willpower to pat your pants pockets, giving all four of them her own thorough inspection as if your phone was suddenly more important than the sex she’d been hinting at wanting for weeks now. “Why do you care?”

You let her check until she was satisfied, watching Wanda exhale a heavy breath before flopping back onto the mattress, “Don’t worry about it.”

But you had that concerned look in your eye again, the same as nights ago right before you took her to the car and barely looked at her for days. Tonight though, she’d be damned if you left her like this again. She draped her arms around your neck, peppering your face with kisses before you could decide it was time to stop or give her space or some other dreadful end to your study session. “I’m sorry, it’s fine. I’m fine, you can uh.. continue now?”

Not the smoothest transition from such a sudden interruption, but you didn’t want to discourage anything that made her comfortable so you opted to let it slide. If she insisted she was alright, whatever it was, you could always ask later. “Oh yeah, you want me to continue?”

Wanda agreed immediately, wiggling her hips to coax your perfectly positioned hand to move once more. Now she’d had a taste of it and nothing would sate that incessant itch still running through your veins unless you were the one to do it for her. She’d had more than enough getting off by herself; she wanted to know what sex was like, what you were like. “Yes, keep going…”

“Can I hear you say please?” Your palm rubbed over her roughly, enough to leave Wanda whining, but not to push her over any edge. Yes, you teased her for being good, but only because you loved those qualities in the other woman. It was so sweet how intently she obeyed rules; you couldn’t not use that to your advantage.

She didn’t want to come off as needy, but that’s exactly what she was. Maybe in the future Wanda would push back more, insist that she didn’t want to beg, but for her present self, she’d do just about anything you asked. “Please…”

“What about..” It’d been too long without a kiss; a quick one for the sake of the last bits of your game, but nonetheless one Wanda chased when you pulled away, “Pretty please?” You could tell the only thing keeping the girl under you from having a fit was sliding your hand over her clit once more, something small for her to cling onto as you teased her into oblivion. Really you’d never met a girl so responsive, so sensitive, you hadn’t even gotten to take her underwear away before rendering her so needy.

“Please…pretty please, just touch me…” You were busy sucking a proper hickey into her neck when you finally slid two fingers into her panties, meeting her wet sex with a moan of your own. It was only a few rolls of your fingertips over her clit before Wanda was shaking, her thighs clamping unexpectedly around your hand, halting its movements before you had the chance to truly explore. There was some sadistic pleasure you got out of it, bringing Wanda to her end with so little effort— your darling little virgin to play with.

Her arms tightened impossibly around your neck, clutching you close while Wanda’s hips stuttered into the mattress. She wanted to love this orgasm, and to some extent she did, couldn’t deny that on a base level, it felt wonderful to release the tension the two of you’d built over the past several hours. But the higher, more aware pieces of Wanda were mortified for cumming so quickly just seconds after you’d first touched her. Stunned into silence, she waited for you to rip away and laugh at her or be mad that she’d lost so much control your fun was cut short.

Reality though, was much different, better, as Wanda quickly found out the embarrassment of it all turned her on a little bit more, mostly because you never actually stopped your examination. Persistent hands only drew further into her panties, gathering whatever wetness your fingers found and smoothing it over the smooth skin of her folds, “Poor little church girl, just got so worked up she couldn’t help herself…”

There was an argument to be made that maybe you were having too much fun, but when you caught sight of Wanda’s flushed cheeks, lips swollen and lipstick smudged from her own biting as well as yours, you had to rethink if there was such a thing as too much when it came to Wanda. “You’re blushing so hard I’d think you didn’t like this if I couldn’t feel how soaked you are.”

Your words did nothing to ease the deep red blossoming bright over her face and chest, but she couldn’t ignore you; you wouldn’t let her. Your free hand came to her jaw, a gentle nudge back in place to make her look at you— Wanda didn’t need force to be the good girl she inherently was.

“Gonna let me make you cum again?” Small circles over her sensitive bud brought Wanda back to attention, head nodding as she let her arms fall heavily to her sides. She’d have been content just like that in all honesty, without making her cum again and simply letting her swim in ecstasy until she fell off to sleep, but you wanted to show her what a real, on purpose orgasm felt like.

You moved on far too soon in her opinion, letting your wet fingers slide back and forth through her sex until Wanda was whimpering. Stroking over her weeping entrance earned you a surprised squeak, hand quick to grab your wrist and still it. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Saying it aloud sounded silly; you knew she was a virgin and thanks to that silly never have I ever, you were well aware she’d masturbated before, but somehow it sounded worse to admit she’d never really put anything inside until now. “It’s just, well.. No one’s ever, I’ve never, done that.”

You thought back to that night of Carol’s party as best as you could, remembered their teasing about the vibrator and Wanda’s lack of response which now made perfect sense. And oh did that strengthen your resolve to fuck her all that much more. Sure, all of this was new to the girl, but there was something about being the first person ever to see Wanda in such a state, spread open and vulnerable underneath you, awakened some primal need. “I’ll make you feel so good, Wanda, promise… Can I be your first?”

It was sweet of you to ask, a little late after she’d just cum a few minutes prior, but Wanda let her hand drop anyway, accepted the reassuring set of kisses you planted from her ear to the corner of her mouth as you began circling over her tight ring of muscle yet again. She couldn’t deny how much she’d thought about it, especially in the past couple weeks as you’d infiltrated her late night fantasies, having thought about any multitude of ways you could finally fuck her. They ranged from soft and sweet to rough and dirty; sometimes you’d lay her back and hold her as you pushed however many fingers you wanted into her, others you bent her over the nearest surface, already wearing the strap on toy she knew for a fact was tucked away in your closet, taking her so possessively she wept.

Today had her leaning towards the first option, at least in actions. Words though, Wanda was much more flexible with those— even if she couldn’t make herself say fuck me right now. “Be gentle? Maybe only one at first…”

You mumbled your agreement, letting your middle finger sink into her entrance for the first time. She’d prepared herself for some sort of pain or discomfort and admittedly, the small intrusion was weird for the first minute or so. You pulled out, so far she thought you’d leave completely, but then you drove back in and as you set a steady pace, slow as it was, Wanda started to feel better about it. “That’s it, baby, there you go… relax for me.”

It was easier to move after she’d taken a deep breath, one Wanda wasn’t aware she was holding in, inhaling and exhaling as you pushed into her again and again. Eventually your hand shifted, angling differently as if you were searching for something; she intended to ask what you were doing, but then your fingertip ran against something deep and Wanda choked on her words.

You brushed against it lazily, giving the spot enough attention to catch your lover’s back arching, fighting the urge to start wiggling again too early, confirming it was just the place you were looking for. “Do you like it when I touch you there?”

This time when you stopped your hand, Wanda started moving her hips of her own accord, selfishly seeking out what you’d been able to find so easily. Vaguely she wondered if she’d muster up the courage to put her fingers inside herself next time she was on her own, was curious if she asked nicely enough would you show her how to do it. But no words left her mouth. And so your hand stayed motionless.

“Words, baby. Tell me what you like.” Partly just to hear her say it, but also to check in, needing to make sure you weren’t giving her too much too fast. Experienced as you were, you’d never taken anyone’s virginity before; you didn’t know how you’d forgive yourself if Wanda had a bad time because of you. She was all too special for that, whether you wanted to admit your feelings for her or not.

“I do like your fingers…” Somehow Wanda had drawn you close enough to give you kisses now, her previously unoccupied hands finding their way under your shirt while her lips stayed busy at the hollow of your throat. She didn’t know what she was doing really, had no idea if you even liked to be touched in such a way, but she took your faint moan next to her ear as a yes. “You can add another, if you want.”

“Yeah?” You moved your head just enough to make eye contact, her shy nod making your heart swell. When you pushed back in this time, two digits stretched her open, patient as the first one had been, but Wanda whined at the new full feeling just the same. She was so hot and silky smooth, it felt like heaven around your fingers, Wanda’s walls constricting around you as you finally began inching deeper, “You’re so tight, Wanda, fuck..”

Her legs fell further apart as you inched closer, driving your fingers deeper on every stroke. Now you angled yourself purposefully, pressing into your new discovery until Wanda was gasping and panting. “Can you hear how wet you are? All I needed to do was fill you up a bit and you’ve gone all gushy and submissive, huh?”

A finger pressed to her lips silenced her long enough to force Wanda to listen to the obscene noises of you fucking into her, slick enough to coat your fingers and drip down the curve of her ass; she was sobbing with need by the time your thumb met her abandoned clit again. Wanda didn’t think the naughtiness of this should be affecting her nearly as much as it was, but she was far too gone to care. She felt bad and she loved it, already craved the next time you could make her feel this way. “Oh god, yes… please please-”

“Shh, I’ve got you, princess, go on and let me see you cum again.” It was too close to the words she’d imagined you saying for so long; paired with the coordinated curls of your fingers and rubs over her stuff bud, Wanda was falling all over again. Harder the second time, uninhibited moans and mewls echoing off the walls of her bedroom as her hips jerked and she clung to you. Diligently, you moved with her as she rode each new wave, letting her savor her first real orgasm at the hands of another person. It was amazing really, how beautiful she could look with her face all scrunched, forehead covered in the thinnest sheen of sweat, but the more you looked, the more you realized it was just Wanda you cared about.

No matter what she looked like, how she was, what she’d done or not done, you liked her so much you swore you could feel her tug at your heartstrings. “Such a pretty princess, what a good girl you are…”

Wanda never wanted you to stop talking to her, each new praise sending another aftershock through her oversensitive form. You took your fingers away before any pleasure could turn into pain, but she refused to let you free, even when you tried to get up. “Don’t leave yet.”

“I’m not leaving, I was just going to get you cleaned up.” She mumbled an okay, but still held on for a few minutes and you let her, ignoring the strain being bent over your knees brought to your lower back. You spent your time kissing over whatever bits of her neck and shoulder you could reach until Wanda released you, finally letting you sit up and stretch.

There was only silence as you peeled her wrinkled skirt and soaked underwear from her hips and down her legs, taking them with you to discard in her desk chair before grabbing her current pair of pajama shorts from the top of her dresser where she folded them each morning. The closest sweatshirt was the one she seemed to have permanently borrowed from you and so that returned back to the bed with you. You supposed you could’ve asked to borrow a pair of her sweatpants instead of just shedding your own on the ground and climbing back over to her, but your only thoughts were on how uncomfy yours had become and getting Wanda a new set of her own.

“Can you sit up for me, sweetheart?” She did, slow as molasses, leaning heavily on your shoulders as soon as you switched her sweater for your hoodie. You were gentle in setting her back down in case she didn’t control her own fall, guiding her head into her pillow to make sure she didn’t hit it on anything else. “It’s not late yet and you’re so tired.”

It was a gentle tease, both of you knowing full well why she felt so spent, but for Wanda who’d never experienced such a sleepy post-sex haze, she didn’t have the willpower to fight something so blissful. “Does that mean cuddling with me is a no for now?”

You laughed at that, lifting her bottom half to let her shorts settle fully in place. “When have I ever said no to that?” Settling next to her was easy, Wanda rolling over until she was cozily plastered to your side, arms and legs wrapping around you like a koala. Smoothing her hair out as she rested her head on your chest, tranquility settled over you both, leaving Wanda to her many thoughts.

For as hyped as it was, Wanda didn’t really feel any different. Relaxed and sated, a pleasurable lingering throb between her legs, yes, but not dissimilar to the person she woke up as this morning. The biggest shift she felt was with you, your gentle coos and endearing massages to her back, hand having snuck under her sweatshirt just to prolong skin to skin contact; you were different to her. Not that you’d ever been rough with her, but there was some new level of intimacy that remained unlabeled, neither of you willing to speak up and address it.

“So..” She didn’t know where to start, what to talk about after having someone buried knuckle deep inside her, “That was something…”

“Certainly was,” Of all things, you weren’t surprised such casualness would come from her lips first; this was Wanda you were dealing with. Sweet, lovely Wanda Maximoff. “Something good? Unless you hated it-”

“No! Not at all, I really really liked it,” Unchanged as she felt, none of it meant Wanda was uninterested in sex, quite the opposite really. Now that the first hurdle was over, she felt freer to test out more; she’d started to believe she’d never get to try it out. Maybe now, with you who was so willing to take her how she is, you’d explore right along with her. “I’d put it in the great category, at least.”

“Oof, just great? What an ego blow,” You faux pouted, sighing dramatically as Wanda clamored atop you. As much as you’d loved seeing your doctor game play out, it meant nothing if Wanda went away unsatisfied, but if her wide grin and rosy cheeks were any indicator, she enjoyed herself just fine and that was a true job well done.

It was her turn to fix you now, tickling your sides until you cracked a smile and kissing your jaw. Wanda hadn’t expected you to be any kind of insecure about your abilities, not when you’d been so patient with her, kind enough to not only indulge her in the sex she desired, but also check in and make sure she was alright. She didn’t think she could fall for you more than she had, but today you’d proven her so very wrong. “Fine, it was more than great. It was the best orgasm I’ve ever had and I can’t wait to do it again. Happy?”

“Oh? Can’t wait, huh?” The brunette shook her head, hips pressing down against yours suggestively. She was more than aware you hadn’t gotten to cum, didn’t know how to offer that to you, but hopefully if she hinted enough you’d catch on. You squeezed her sides, let her rock slowly back and forth, greedily taking the small amount of friction to soothe your pent up need. There was no way you’d have predicted she’d give any thought to you on her first time, but again, it shouldn’t have shocked you when your new lover was an always caring Wanda. “I thought you were about to take a nap.”

“You said it yourself, it’s early…” Wanda bent until she could rest her elbows on either side of you, rutting her pelvis down to yours more insistently now. After a few moments, you did start guiding her motions, selfishly moving her at the pace that felt best to you. Neglecting to put new underwear on Wanda meant there weren’t many layers between the two of you, both losing yourselves quickly to the heat growing from being pressed together.

If you’d stayed like that for the rest of the evening, you’d be the happiest student on campus, perhaps just long enough to find your own orgasm. But as it was, you were barely on the precipice of hitting that high when Wanda’s phone chimed from across the room. She jumped away from you as if whoever was calling could see what was happening and you groaned, more needy than irritated, but Wanda was already leaping out of bed.

Only three people tended to call her: you, who was clearly preoccupied at the moment; Pietro, but he always texted first to make sure she wasn’t busy; and her father, who called out of the blue and worried himself sick when Wanda didn’t pick up the phone. As she approached her desk, the picture of her and him together on the day he’d first dropped her off to college lit up the screen and she knew it was him. “Hi, papa! Yes yes, I’m doing perfectly fine…”

You didn’t understand most of the conversation, Wanda flowing in and out of Sokovian as she told him she was okay and easily lied about being engrossed in homework as to why she hadn’t answered the phone immediately. She paced back and forth over the carpet as they discussed something you’d made out to be related to home, the call only ending because Wanda insisted that although she wanted to talk more, she had to get back to her studying. Her face lit up then and you assumed he must’ve given her some praising comment, Wanda’s smile always hopelessly wide when she felt proud of herself.

Signing off with an I love you too, Wanda hung up and pursed her lips before turning your way with a forlorn look. “What’s up?”

As soon as you sat up, opening her arms to beckon her back over, Wanda made her way to you, settling on her mattress with her legs thrown over your lap. “My dad misses me,” She supposed she really shouldn’t complain, not when she truly did love him so much, but he stressed so much it in turn made her worry about him and if her absence was more of a burden than something for him to be proud of. “I said I’d visit this weekend, but I don’t have a car which means he always has to come pick me up and drive back and I hate making him do that.”

“I’ll drive you.” The words were out of your mouth before you processed them, having offered up your services without Wanda even asking for your help. You didn’t regret saying it; you wanted to see Wanda’s town where she and most everyone you knew grew up, curious about her childhood home Wanda always spoke of so fondly.

“And make you do the same thing, only twice? No, that’s not fair.” Wanda couldn’t ask you to do that; she really should learn to drive one of these days. Technically she did know how, but she’d never bothered to get her full license; she never had anywhere to go that she couldn’t walk to or get Pietro to drive her. She’d never expected her dad would insist on coming to pick her up to spend time with her so often and she was too polite to tell him it was too much, not that he’d ever listen.

“Well..” You nuzzled into her cheek, wanting to rouse Wanda from her worries and keep her mood light. Besides wanting to explore Westview, a part of you resented having to spend a whole weekend without Wanda so soon and you were loath to admit you’d be bored on your own. “If your dad wouldn’t mind a guest, maybe I could spend the weekend with you?”

She twisted to face you then, eyes wide with disbelief. No one ever came to her house for her; to ask about Pietro or wonder if the local priest was available for impromptu advice, but never just.. for Wanda. “You want to go home with me… and stay?”

“Unless you think your dad would mind, but otherwise sure, why not. We could leave tomorrow after class and drive back on Sunday, that’s what you’ve done before, right?” So far this school year, Wanda’s only been home once, an uncharacteristic drop from the nearly every weekend she’d gone in the past few years of college. The excuse she’d used was you, her father having heard so much about you from how Wanda cited her plans with you as to why she was busy so often.

Even so, he was always excited for her, happy his daughter had someone to spend so much time with, and Wanda knew he wouldn’t have any problems getting to finally meet you. Her concern was if you’d run for the hills as soon as you met him and his overbearing ways. “Just… bring nice clothes, okay? If you wear too many t-shirts and ripped jeans, he’ll accuse me of making friends with some girl version of my brother.”

#if this gets marked again I'll just leave it but for now.. I'm annoyed #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff imagine #confessions au.#maximotts #motts writes.

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thejakeslayla · 7 months

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╰▸ ❝ melting ice ❞ 002 ⎯⎯ salchow ,, a park sunghoon written series

synopsis; you put your everything into ice skating; blood, sweat and tears. unexpectedly you're being partnered with someone you despite, your number one rival - park sunghoon. together, you must overcome your grudges, navigate your differences and find a way to convey emotion on the ice. as you face this challenge, you discover hidden depths of him, leading you to question if there's more to your connection with sunghoon than just hatred and whether you can make this unlikely partnership work, potentially reshaping your career and the dynamics between them. little do you know that sunghoon never hated you.

warnings: reader gets injured, arguments, profanity

Days turned into weeks, and you and Sunghoon found yourselves locked in a relentless cycle of practice. Daily sessions became a routine, yet the tension between you and Sunghoon only seemed to intensify. You both worked diligently on perfecting the throw triple loop, with the coach drilling you on every detail. It was an intricate move that demanded trust and synchronization. At first, the attempts were awkward and full of stumbles and falls, but with time, your coordination improved. It wasn't the most harmonious partnership, but you were making progress.

Despite your initial concerns, Sunghoon turned out to be a dedicated partner, putting in as much effort as you did. His resolved determination surprised you. As much as you disliked him, his precision and your grace created a unique blend and even if you wouldn’t like to think of him like that, each time you just found yourself pretty amused.

One chilly evening, you found yourselves alone at the rink, the bright arena lights casting an eerie glow on the ice. Sunghoon's mom had left for a work-related trip, and your mom had a prior commitment. It was just the two of you and the echoes of your blades cutting through the ice.

Sunghoon stopped, panting heavily. You noticed the sweat glistening on his brow, the strands of hair clinging to his forehead. You already tried multiple times to synchronise your step sequence, but each time one of you messed up.

He met your gaze, and for the first time in weeks, you didn't see hostility in his eyes. Instead, you saw determination and, perhaps, a hint of vulnerability. "Y/n," he said, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it, "I know we don't get along, but we have to make this work. Our future depends on it."

You stopped in your tracks, the ice beneath your skates glistening with a thin layer of frost. His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you considered his words. But then, you shook your head, a hint of disagreement in your eyes. "I appreciate your concern, Sunghoon, but I've made it this far on my own. I don't need you to determine my future."

Sunghoon's expression shifted, a mix of frustration and determination. "This isn't just about you, Y/n. Stop being so fucking selfish. We have a real chance to get into olympics, if we can put our differences aside."

You were filled with anger. "Put our differences aside? You've got to be fucking kidding me, Park. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to even stand here next to you, let alone skate with you? I didn't ask for you to be my partner, and I’m fucking sure that I didn't ask for your pep talk. I've been working my entire life to get to this point, and I don't need you telling me what's at risk."

Sunghoon's voice suddenly rose, matching your frustration. "This isn't about forgetting, Y/n. It's about acknowledging that we're both skilled athletes, and if we channel that rivalry into our performance, we could be unstoppable."

Your jaw tightened. "Unstoppable? The only thing that's unstoppable is your ego."

With that biting remark, Sunghoon's anger peaked, and he abruptly turned away, storming off the rink. You were left seething, your own fury burning as hot as his.

After leaving the rink in a huff, Sunghoon couldn't shake off the frustration that had been building within him. He wandered aimlessly through the corridors of the training center, his mind filled with a whirlwind of emotions.

In the beginning, Sunghoon had viewed this partnership with you as an opportunity he couldn't pass up, but the reality of working with you had been far more challenging than he had ever imagined. The clash of your personalities and the weight of the long-standing (or should he say one-sided?) rivalry had tested his patience more than anything else in his skating career.

However, there was another layer to Sunghoon's frustration, one that he was unwilling to confront even in the depths of his own thoughts. He had watched you from afar for years, not only as a "rival" but as someone he greatly admired. Your grace on the ice, your dedication, and your unwavering commitment to the sport had drawn him in.

There had been moments when he had secretly hoped for the chance to work with you, to get to know you on a different level, and to prove himself not just as a “self-centred and cold as ice you skate on” athlete but as a partner. And now, with this unexpected opportunity, his longing to work with you had intertwined with the harsh reality of their situation.

As he approached the vending machines, he couldn't help but replay their argument in his mind. His frustration stemmed not only from the difficulties of the partnership but from the fear that he might lose this chance to get closer to someone he had admired for so long.

As Sunghoon retreated to cool off, you were on the rink, trying to focus on your skating, but the heated argument still echoed in your mind. Your determination got the best of you, and in a fit of frustration, you decided to attempt a triple axel – a move you hadn't mastered yet.

You executed the jump, the world spinning around you, but the landing was far from graceful. You hit the ice while still rotating, causing a harsh impact. Pain shot through your hip and ankle. You bit your lip, fighting back tears, but it was impossible to ignore the throbbing in your ankle.

Your heart pounded with pain and frustration, but you tried to push through it, determined not to give Sunghoon the satisfaction of seeing you vulnerable, as he might come back any second now. Gritting your teeth, you tried to stand, but the pain in your ankle was too much to bear.

And as if universe deeply hated you, he appeared.

Sunghoon entered the rink, the tension still hanging in the air. He immediately noticed that something was wrong, as you struggled to stand and make your way off the ice. He hurried over, concern replacing his anger, as he realized the seriousness of the situation.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Sunghoon asked, his voice echoing, genuine worry on his face.

You clenched your jaw, suppressing the pain in your ankle, and quickly replied, "I'm fine. I've had worse falls."

But Sunghoon wouldn't let it go. "Y/n, you don't look fine. Let me help you."

You hesitated, torn between the embarrassment of showing your vulnerability to your rival and the throbbing pain in your ankle. Sunghoon insisted, reaching out to support you, but you resisted. "I said I'm okay. I don't need your help."

Minute or two passed and Sunghoon had enough of your bullshit, he grabbed your wrist and wrapped your arm around his shoulders. You finally gave up, leaning on him as he helped you get off the ice.

Once you were seated on the bench, Sunghoon remained frozen, his concern barely concealed. When he helped you take off your skates, tears welled up in your eyes, escaping despite your best efforts to hold them back. Your pride was wounded, you embarrassed yourself in front of someone you hated the most, nothing went the way you wanted. And you just wanted to prove him wrong.

A minute of heavy silence stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity. Sunghoon's struggle to hide his worry was evident in his furrowed brow and his fidgety fingers. He was torn between wanting to help and not wanting to overstep the boundaries of your rivalry, or should he say your hatred towards him? His eyes darted between your teary gaze and your leg.

Finally, he couldn't contain the storm of emotions within him any longer, and his voice broke the heavy silence. "Should I call the coach?"

Your head moved slowly from side to side as you shook it, indicating your refusal. "No, Sunghoon. It will just worry him, and we won't be able to practice. I can't afford to miss practice right now."

Sunghoon was taken aback by your response. He knew the importance of practice, but the consequences of ignoring your injury weighed heavily on his mind. The argumentative tension that had simmered earlier now resurfaced, and the two of you found yourselves locked in a silent battle of wills.

The sudden change in his voice surprised you. His voice was firm and commanding as he responded, "Y/n, your health is more important than practice. You can't keep skating on a sprained ankle. Even though you don’t want to, we have to work together; we need to make the right decision here."

You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, torn between your pride, the importance of practice, and the undeniable logic in Sunghoon's words. God, how much you hated him. It wasn’t even about the rivalry anymore, you just hated the fact that he’s right. The silence stretched on, and it seemed like a decision was hanging in the balance.

Finally, Sunghoon, directed by a small crush on you, broke the silence once more. His voice was softer, almost pleading, as he said, "Y/n, please. Let me help you. I promise it won't change anything between us, but it's the right thing to do."

Your gaze returned to him, as he continued to speak. “Y/n, what if…” His voice trembled slightly, clearly showing you signs of hesitation. “I take you to my home instead?"

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#thejakeslayla #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enha x reader #enhypen series #enhypen x you #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x you #sunghoon x y/n #sunghoon drabbles #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #sunghoon series

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writing--whore · 1 year

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The Art of Survival - Chapter One

Okay so I have written 5k of the Luis x Reader Hunger Games series (and I'm only like halfway/a quarter of the way through the plot that I have in mind) but before I go any further with the writing and editing, I wanna put the first 1k words to see if people actually like it. So here you go. Plz lmk what you think and if you want more :3

Pairing: Luis Serra x Reader

Summary: Luis is determined to survive the hunger games, which means he cannot allow himself to have a single weakness. And he had none. That was until he laid eyes on you.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: graphic depiction of violence (canon typical for Resident Evil 4 and also The Hunger Games). The violence is committed against you. Canon typical murder of children.

A/N: I re-watched the Hunger Games like a year ago and haven't seen it again since. I'm not going to follow the Hunger Games lore as if it were law. Because A) I don't want to and B) I can't remember it. Please don't come for me. Or do and I'll edit it.

Part One - Part Two

Throughout the whole ordeal - the training, the social events, the interviews - Luis kept his head down and didn’t speak a word to anyone. He didn’t want to think about his chances of getting out of here alive. And he certainly didn’t want to think about how he would have to murder all 23 other contestants if he wanted to live. He’d committed enough atrocities by creating la plagas. A part of him thought this was karma; he deserved to die after what he had done. And yet, when faced with the very real likelihood of death, he realised that he was much more selfish and cowardly than he’d originally thought. He realised that he wanted to live.

He chose not to think about it. He didn’t want to face his ugly instinct to survive and what he would have to do if he wanted to return home. Which is why he didn’t want to have anything to do with anyone else. He didn’t want to humanise his opponents.

But he had eyes and he had ears. No matter how much denied and ignored the situation, numerous pieces of information still infiltrated his brain. For instance, he noticed that Y/N was the weakest opponent. She was the smallest, she was the weakest and she didn’t even seem to possess one single skill that would be helpful in the arena. For as much as he tried to uproot it, a seed of sympathy had planted itself in his heart. None of this was fair. People like her should not be pitted against… well, people like him.

He certainly wasn’t the strongest here but he was far from the weakest. He was decently tall, decently strong. He knew he had a great aim and that he was exceptionally bright. And after fighting the Los Illuminados, he thought he had a pretty good grasp on the act of survival.

There was one final banquet where all the contestants dined together. He couldn’t handle it. Everyone was so fake, trying to make pleasant conversation when they knew a blood bath loomed on the horizon. He scoffed up his food and chose to take a walk instead.

The cool air hit his face and he sighed with relief. The peace was short lived; his ears attuned to a nearby sound of crying. His feet trod silently along the gravel, following the sound until he spied the source. Someone was curled up behind a hedgerow, letting out helpless sobs. It was Y/N.

His feet continued along the path. He buried the sympathy, he buried the shame. Those weren’t emotions he was capable of possessing anymore.

So why then was he haunted by her face when he was trying to get to sleep that night?

He recalled being forced to watch the footage of the other contestants getting reaped, and the way all of the colour drained from Y/N’s face when her name was called. He recalled seeing her taking great gulping breaths before the live interviews, each one shorter than the last like she was forgetting how to breathe.

He groaned and wiped a hand across his face. She should not be here. She should not be fated to a certain and brutal execution. But more importantly, he should not be thinking about this. He had to focus on himself. It was the only way to win.

That’s exactly what he did. As he stood in the arena, facing his contestants in a circle, he thought only of saving his own skin. This was it. The games were about to commence. His heart drilled against his chest. It was not an unfamiliar feeling, he had learnt to hone it, to sharpen his senses while forgoing any mindless panic.

The contestants eyed each other up, trying to unnerve the other. Luis simply didn’t look. He focused on the cornucopia straight ahead. He knew he’d be able to run fast enough and he would be much better off if he could claim a weapon.

So as the countdown hit zero, he legged it, shoulder barging others out of the way. A solid iron pipe caught his eye. It would keep his attackers at arms length and it would be skilled at wielding it. He snatched it and ran, holding it poised against his shoulder in a way that made others afraid to take their chances with him.

He dived into the thick of the forest, picking a random direction and sprinting as fast as he could. No thoughts entered his mind besides the command to keep on running until he couldn’t run anymore.

Laughter cut through the tree trunks a few feet ahead, followed by high pitched shrieks. His feet dug into the mud as he went to veer around the source of the noise. But through the leaves, he spotted Y/N. She was crawling through the leaves on her hands and knees but two kids from district 9 dragged her back into the clearing; two cats toying with their prey. 5 minutes into the games and these kids were already focused on sadism rather than survival.

The district 9 boy easily flipped her onto her back and straddled her, ending her ability to struggle. His fist raised in the air and pounded her face.

Adrenaline shot up Luis’ spine. He wasn’t even aware that he was emerging through the brush. Nor that his arms had sparked to life and were lifting the pipe over his head. It was an automatic, emotionless act, he told himself as he swung.

A sickening crack echoed throughout the trees as the boy’s skull snapped open. Rivers of blood ran down the back of his head.

The district 9 girl screamed - raw with grief - and took off running in the opposite direction.

The boy fell to one side, half on top of Y/N. She propelled her legs, trying to scrabble away from the weight trapping her. Luis was reminded of a bunny caught in a fist.

Horror flashed in her eyes when she caught him watching her. Blood had sprayed across his cheek, painting him as a killer. It gave her the fuel she needed; one more kick and she was free. She scurried away, kicking up fallen leaves and very nearly tripping over her own feet.

~~~

He dreamt of her that night. He dreamt that he was a ghostly spectator, floating around the clearing as the district 9 kids took it in turns to beat her. They didn’t let up. His heart tore itself to sheds to hear her cries as her face was marred with deep black bruises. There was nothing left of his heart when her cries turned to silent defeat. She wasn’t going to get out of this. And no one was coming to help her.

Their punches didn’t let up even as her face turned into an unrecognisable pulp.

“Stop!” He wanted to call out but had no voice.

He wanted to break their hands, claw out their eyes. But he could not act.

#luis serra x reader #luis sera x reader #luis serra x you #luis serra #luis serra navarro

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guardian-of-fun-times · 6 months

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Ahh, Rise of the Guardians... Happy Birthday! I cannot begin to fathom my life without the books and/or the movie...besides a constant feeling of emptiness. I have no doubt in my mind that I would succumb to the fear of adulthood and not having an efficient way of preserving and expressing my childlike (not childish) nature. After seeing RotG in August of 2013, I found the closest character I have ever connected with. Distant but passionate...daring yet humble...intense but at the same time playful...He somehow manages to balance it all. When I first read "The Guardians of Childhood" novel series- I said to myself, "Y'know...if I were to connect with any other character on a spiritual level, it'd probably be Nightlight."

This was a couple years before William Joyce announced that [SPOILER] Nightlight later became Jack Frost...and then, from that moment, I realized that my connection with this character was MUCH deeper than I could ever imagine. Nightlight and Jack have this distant/ever-watchful dynamic in their personality...something I've always found myself doing. I love people-watching- it is very intriguing to me. Now this might have to do with my love of psychology/sociology and understanding how people work, but it is something I've always noticed about myself. In the movie, Jack is not the center of attention all the time...he is usually off to the side, trying to understand what is going on around him before he commits to anything. Of course I could write an entire essay regarding all my personal connections with Jack and how I can see life through his eyes...but perhaps that story shall be shared at a later date. In time I will share my story... The movie and the books have changed my life for the better. Thank you William Joyce, I grew up with you through "Rollie Pollie Ollie" and continued to admire your work without even realizing it was you this whole time.. .I'm inspired to go back and read all those books and watch all the movies. I'm sure I'll have a deeper connection the second time around.

I'm also inspired to read the books that inspired you! I don't recall you ever mentioning "The Little Prince", but I'm sure you've read it...especially by how much Nightlight reminds me of The Little Prince.

Your eye for the imagination and impossible is right up my alley. In an obtuse mindset, there was a time I felt my creativity and imagination fading- but I then realized it was pushed to the secondary tier of importance. Adulthood got in the way...not becoming an adult, but letting the fears of adulthood and the world fill my head with desensitized nonsense.

I have always believed that children know the secrets of the universe. They understand the secret writings of the "In Between"... the two lines of the theoretical and the fantastical! This knowledge, however, seems to fade slowly with time. The more a child is in the world- the more darkness is influenced. This is not a loss for hope! As long as we preserve this knowledge (like history), we will not forget who we are, where we came from, and what our individual purpose is.

Love, Light and Purpose has been my end goal to this channel. To reflect and remind other's of The Great Light- just as the moon does with the sun's light. To remind people that they DO MATTER, that they ARE LOVED, and have enormous amounts of POTENTIAL!

A handful of years ago, I promised myself that after the new Jack Frost novel came out, I would start directing my focus to The Guardians of Childhood tier of this fandom. More people must be made aware, for the whole story has yet to be shared! This is exactly why I'm building my Viking AU cosplay- to practice my skills with Worlba before I tackle cosplaying as Nightlight.

Getting back on track, I thank you, not only to William Joyce, but to all of you who, despite the common ridicule and doubt by others, continued to believe. That, my friends, is the most humbling truth...and is the driving force in my entire being. I will never cease to share these stories...I will be sure to tell the importance until MY memories are like twilight.

#rise of the guardians #rotg #jack frost #rotg matters #guardian #rotg fandom #rotg jack frost #guardian of fun

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aechii · 1 year

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₍⁠₍ SPEAK NO EViL ₎⁠₎ ~ CH. 3

[ a kylian mbappe series ]

SYNOPSiS ! it's summer break, where, yes, academic freedom ensues, but for stellar, upcoming young football stars, an unmissable opportunity springs. bondy elite summer academy prepares its youth for the professional world, and inevitably, everybody is hungry to succeed. girl or boy. life isn't kind to 18 year old kylian mbappe, and being mute seems to be a limiting factor of his progress. but once he's accepted into the football camp, he's determined to prove that his football speaks for itself. yet, in the midst of fatal determination and apathetic competitiveness, he doesn't expect to grow intrigue for [y/n], a profound player in the camp's feminine unit, whose kindness and exquisite skill awakens a visceral feeling within kylian, showing him someone else that he could love in a world filled with hate.

PAiRiNG ! mute!kylian x fem!reader | fem!reader x oc!boyfriend

A/N ! chapter 3 everybody!! make some noise!!!!! this one is a little bit shorter than 1 & 2 and i blame the me that was planning the chapters. it's not very content heavy, but is rather more of a deep dive into the ropes of kylian and brice's friendship (think, mental commentary because i be thinking a lot, and kylian must do that also!). once again, bromance is bromancing, and someway somehow, i've spontaneously added a, rather unprovoked, 'one sided enemy-esque' plot, but dw, it dies just as quick as it takes its first breath. anyways this is getting long now. ENJOY 🤍

SERiES MASTERLiST ! here!

TAGLiST ! [ ask here , those in bold i couldn't tag] @sad1esgf @ts1mp0ne @fezlvr @ippid @kyksgirl @user6373738 @kenjekwownwjn @lalunaenamoradasworld @mywhimsyjournal @imagesthatlive @heli991113 @cinderellawithashoe @milfs4lifee

the condemnation kylian had faced just hours prior to the rise of the evening had him sinking in humiliation. although zion was present also, receiving the brunt of coach moreau’s harsh reprimand, it was undeniable that his malice was directed towards him specifically, and frankly speaking, kylian has had enough of hearing football ethics. he’s not stupid, nor disrespectful, no matter how much coach moreau makes it seem like he is by reminding him that the sport was to be ‘played as a team’.

kylian can take constructive criticism. it’s woven between the foundation of his love for football, but what he cannot tolerate is expecting to take responsibility for a crime he did not commit. it’s a reality check, to be entirely honest. all he just can’t do is speak– rather, he can’t speak, and it’s the dimming aspect of his attributes. coach moreau had made it clear, even if it was disguised as a mutual warning for both him and zion, that he’s at a disadvantage here. lack of verbal communication is detrimental to a team, especially in one of such high calibre, and to prove that he’s worth the chance- the referral- his efforts have to exceed the others.

he had prepared himself for this, but with someone already tugging at his nerves, he’s succumbing to his frustrations.

“it’s been a day.”

brice and kylian made the impulsive decision to hang out in their room for dinner hour instead of in the canteen. the presence of the aforementioned aggressor seemed to anger brice more than kylian himself, and kylian needs to avoid any more confrontations for as long as he can. they had snuck in a meal of burger and chips- which did surprise them as bondy gave them the impression that strict diet rules are a given- and are wasting their time in front of the mounted television that plays a random match from an english league. they both don't care to know which one, though.

“that’s quite the understatement,” kylian signs in response, fingers sticky with grease. the aftermath of the day’s events has him utterly emotionally displaced, and words have frozen in his brain.

“zion’s fucking pissing me off, and it’s only the first day,” kylian adds. his hands goes for another chip, realises there’s none left, and deflates as he puddles into the sofa. brice takes a bite out of his burger before signing, “you have to learn to take your advice, you know.”

kylian looks at him dubiously, and brice speaks after he swallows, “how you retaliated earlier; you're just proving their point.”

"about what? it wasn't even my fault."

"but retrospectively, and in their close minded eyes, it is. and you just seem more incompetent to them the more you fight back."

his friend huffs and looks away. kylian knows that brice bears the truth, but everytime his mind rewinds and replays the words that hit like lightning bullets, his fists clench just like they had done earlier before he was stopped. his temper is short, can never endure more than two seconds of aggravation, and it sucks because the only way he can release it is physically.

he fucking hates it, because his status quo has been thrown below everyone else's, and the more he attempts to climb, the lower his chances sink. the guilty is seen as innocent and vice versa, and sometimes he just wonders why his heart had chosen this godforsaken sport.

brice swims past his silence, and continues, “he irked you, yes, but remember what you told me coach moreau said. it insinuates something."

he knows that kylian would hate what he's about to say, but he'd rather his best friend be in the know, than lack thereof. he's read between the lines, yet kylian, still high on whatever hybrid of emotion broods inside him, hasn't.

"from what i gather, bondy didn’t choose you because they wanted you, but because they see, somewhat, potential, and they’ll drop you in the blink of an eye if you don’t reach the level they want you to be at.”

that fucking hurt.

“don’t look like that.”

“like what?”

“depressed,” brice walks over to the bin and dumps the empty styrofoam container in, “i’m pretty sure what i said applies to every kid here; and all i’m trying to tell you is that you need to try harder. fighting everybody, no matter how sick in the head they are, isn’t going to help you at all. and i know you’re better than that.”

he leaves it at that, striding back to his seat before flicking through channels to find something else to watch. settles on a game show that appears mildly interesting enough to be background noise for the time being.

“he called me a freak, you know.”

it’s gratifying, hearing kylian’s voice after hours of not, radiating so much confusion and hurt. his sentence goes hand in hand with a disbelieving scoff, and if the other boy didn't know him that well, he'd think he was more vexed than pained. brice stares at him, bubbling with a myriad of unnameable feelings, yet still overrun by white hot fury.

“different and weird, maybe i can accept. but freak? i haven’t heard that since, what, 6th, 7th grade?”

“because you’re not. i swear- i’ll actually do a number on the guy.”

kylian shakes his head, “no, you won’t. remember what you said.”

“i do. but your chance here matters more than mine, and if the last thing i do here before being kicked out is defend you, then so be it.”

kylians face crumples, "your chance here matters just as much as mine."

"to you, yeah. but to me, i want you to succeed more. and i'll do everything in my power for that to happen, you just have to cooperate."

his words hit kylian hard, and the aftershock leaves numbing tingles everywhere. he shifts on the settee to face the tv more and for a moment, the program flashing bright light into subtly illuminated room seems more interesting.

"why are you here then, if you don't care that much about your place?"

"i didn't say that i don't care, i'm just… prioritising yours," brice reiterates with a small smile. kylian doesn't like what he hears, and shakes his head.

"why, brice? you don’t need to do all of that, you’re being stupid- irrational." he doesn’t mean to be harsh, but brice’s excuse nauseates kylian and his mind paints bright red question marks.

brice stares at him, it's not intense, but rather thoughtful. he looks away, "don't worry about it."

his sentence stands with determined finality, and kylian, too troubled by his friend's words, doesn't retort back. he thinks, and thinks, and reaches conclusions that he knows results from too much overthinking, but there’s nothing else that it can conjure. his inhibitions draw upon his face, and it causes brice to lean towards him, poking his temple.

“what ‘you pondering about?”

“nothing, nothing,” kylian replies. he puts on a fake grin, hoping that it’s enough to deceive his friend. brice looks sceptical, but lets it go with a submitting hum. they’re submerged into noiselessness once again; it’s wholly unlike them, by canon, every inch of space should be filled with obnoxious quarrels, but kylian places the blame on neither of them. for it’s tension, of one mistake unravelling everything, of fraying their friendship because of a sport that wasn’t when they were.

kylian despises dissimilarity, and so, brings up the one thing he had noticed earlier that would inject some humour into the sunken mood.

“azali, right?”

kylian swears he witnesses brice get whiplash in live time with how rapid and vehement his head turns toward him, and it pushes a cackle out of him.

“it is her!”

brice doesn’t blush, his skin too melanated for it to be noticeable, but he evidently feels his cheeks heat up as he goes to touch them inquisitively. he’s startled by its unusual rise in temperature, pulling his training jacket over his face to hide himself from kylian, who still hasn’t stopped laughing at his antics.

“what are you hiding? your interest towards her? you could barely do that if i noticed,” kylian’s tone is inherently taunting, and brice chucks a pillow at his head.

“that doesn’t mean anything! you’re just… observant.”

kylian tuts as his eyebrow rises, “excuses.”

he couldn’t blame his friend’s untimely engrossment with the girl. she completely emanates quiet talent, barely speaking in the little time the boys and girls had been with each other, yet it is clear that she’s hyper aware of herself as a player.

"you came here to get a referral, not get a girl," kylian chides, and brice shoots back, "and you came here to get a referral, not get into fights."

there's nothing kylian can say to that, for there's nothing untrue in brice's reply, and so he relents, "fair enough."

brice swivels in his seat, dumping a pillow in his lap, "you can't lie tho— she's pretty."

"well," kylian shrugs, "you're interested in her, and i'll feel awkward thinking the same way as you do."

brice purses his lips and says, "understandable," before smirking, "what about you? got your eye on anybody yet?"

kylian is rather half surprised that brice would think he has. he's never been the one to have crushes, maybe out of fear, or sheer commitment to football, and he's confused as to why brice would think he's now had a change of heart.

"uh no?"

"really? there are some pretty girls in our faction," brice states as if it's a matter of fact.

"and that's not my main focus," kylian shuts him down, glancing at the clock. their dinner break is 8 minutes from over and if they're to get to their parlour, which is all the way at north wing- before coach moreau, it's about time they leave.

"we need to go," kylian says. brice checks the time for himself, and his jaw falls ajar, "already?"

kylian arises from his seat, "it really is only an hour-and-a-half long dinner."

he goes into his room in search for his lanyard. looks on his bed, and its bedside table and underneath those, but it's absolutely nowhere.

he immediately rushes out in a panic, interrogating his friend, "brice, have you seen my lanyard? i can't find it anywhere."

brice doesn't respond, and gives him a deadpanned look, "it's on your neck, kylian."

he glances downward and notices the gold ribbon dancing from his frantic movement. he tugs it sheepishly as if to check that it's really there, "oh."

"yeah, oh."

+_-

"-overall, we're highly impressed by the level of skill we've seen today. you all show that you can get to the top, but it's a matter of which 6 will excel and reach there first.”

coach moreau has gathered all 20 of them in the elite parlour, for a, what he calls, ‘end of day reflection’. side by side, both him and coach lambert stand before the group, arms crossed. they survey the teenage prospects, see the determination etched on every one of them, and conclude that this year's cohort is probably the most promising they've ever seen.

coach lambert continues, "tomorrow is another day of training. don't expect anything, from now onwards, to be as easy as it was today because you're all here to push yourselves, am i clear?"

sounds and nods of affirmatives follow, and both coaches smile. moreau claps twice, untangling his arms, "alright, you all can relax now. curfew is at 9pm sharp, and i do not expect anyone to still be in any of the rooms when i come to check, yes?"

a collective 'yes coach' comes from the teens, and he gives them the all clear to disperse. brice leans into kylian, "i saw a table football in one of the leisure rooms, let's go there?"

his friend shrugs and nods, "yeah why not? i'll beat you, though." his signs are still mildly discreet and wary.

"you'll beat me? over my dead body."

they walk into the room, it's quite large, corners dotted with settees of all sizes (and, by proxy, dark blue) and it's occupied with everything: from air hockey to table tennis, with an unexpected, basketball hoop game. it's rather an arcade, is what flows through kylian's mind.

"you ready?" kylian smirks as he stands on one side with brice on the other.

brice rolls his eyes and starts turning the metal bar, "get on with it kylian."

the first two rounds are completely chaotic as kylian, habitually, accuses brice of cheating, demanding head starts which don't end up proving to be useful.

"i'm just going easy on you," kylian sulks. brice looks at him questioningly, "i thought you just said i was cheating?"

within the few seconds kylian loses concentration, the ball slides into brice's possession, and he quickly takes advantage of the opportunity, shooting the plastic sphere into the goal.

"3-0!" brice exuberates as kylian huffs, dejected.

"i'll get you back- character redemption arc," kylian strikes back, but brice just snickers.

"yeah, right."

before another game could start, three girls walk over to them one of which both boys could recognise from her distinctive hairstyle and brice's every-living interest. his face palpably brightens with a smile kylian has never seen on his face before, and its makes him internally scoff.

another of the girls, who kylian distastefully recognises as zion's girlfriend, steps forward, albeit rather hesitantly. he barely has an impression of her, yet rules her discriminatory by association, and has told brice his thoughts, too. it's senseless, he knows, but with an asshole as big as her boyfriend, it's hard to believe they're not akin in mentality.

"sorry if it's a bother, but can we play with you?"

kylian so badly wants to say no out of spite. god knows what she's truly thinking, and he'd rather steer clear of her radar. but brice, the puppy lover he is, beat him to it.

"yes, of course!" he rushes to the side to give the girls space.

zion's girlfriend (he doesn't care to remember her name) smiles at the both of them, then signs, "sorry."

kylian and brice look at each other confused, but kylian is the first to realise her actual intention and grins.

"thank you,"he corrects, putting the tips of his fingers on his mouth then pushing his hand outwards.

"oh!" the girl smiles apologetically, flustered, "i'm sorry, i hope i didn't offend you or anything."

"no, no, you're good." kylian takes it as she understands when her eyes relax from their furrow.

"i'm still learning, you see," the girl adds

brice is bewildered. it's not often they come across someone their age willing to learn sign language.

"you are?"

"yeah!" she moves to stand where kylian had prior, "i've always wanted to, but only started a few weeks ago."

brice shoots his friend a knowing look, one that says, 'see?' and kylian fights back a smile. brice smugly signs, "she's not as bad as you thought, huh?"

kylian flips him off, "shut up."

and if brice notices how kylian's gestures suddenly begin to fill with their usual gusto, he doesn't say a thing.

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