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yandere-daydreams · 2 years

Text

Title: Clingy.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Wanderer x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: AFAB!Reader, Modern AU, Non/Con, Blood, Intimidation/Threats of Violence, Toxic Relationships, Emotional Abuse, Slight Financial Abuse, and Codependent Behavior.

[Part Two]

On your third date, your boyfriend-at-the-time demanded that you give him a spare key to your ‘shitty shoebox of an apartment’, despite refusing to so much as let you into the penthouse Ei had leased for him while going to a university a hundred or so miles away from the multi-story, marble sculpted, beachside mansion he’d reluctantly flown you out to when he got sick of listening to you ask why he still hadn't introduced you to his moms eight months into your relationship. That probably should’ve been your first red flag, but somehow, you’d persisted. He brought out your competitive side, like that.

He made you want to dig your nails in, plant your teeth in your neck, and refuse to let go. It wasn’t good for you, but nothing he did was good for anyone. That never stopped him from doing it, though.

You could only assume that this – Kunikuzushi, your boyfriend of eighteen months and your ex-boyfriend of one, splayed across the couch in your living room, the keys he’d never given back dangling from his ring finger and the phone you’d forgotten when you left for work that morning in the other – wasn’t going to be good for you, either.

You didn’t say anything at first. It was all you could do to groan, to shake your head, to pretend you didn’t see him or didn’t care long enough to throw your messenger bag onto the nearest chair and tear off your jacket. He’d clearly made himself at home. A textbook was open on your coffee table, a drink from the cheap, trendy café he’d always whined about having to take you to sitting half-empty next to it. He wasn’t looking at either, though, his attention entirely centered on your phone. You didn’t have the energy to pretend to be surprised. He used to like to go through your conversations and delete the contacts he ‘didn’t trust’ when you were together, too, but you’d been more willing to write it off as the cute-but-concerning tick of a jealous boyfriend, back then. You must’ve fallen out of practice after your breakup.

You opened your mouth, but he was ultimately the one to break the silence. “You know Ajax?”

You crossed your arms. “Why are you here?”

“I mean, I know you’re in the same microbiology course, but c’mon, him? The fucker couldn’t tell a proton from a nucleolus. Honestly, I’m surprised he hadn’t flunked out yet. Give it another semester - he’ll be gone by spring, I promise.”

“I didn’t say you could come over.”

“I texted you last night. Did you try to block me again?” You’d blocked him, then reported his number, then changed yours when he’d started using burner phones to drunk dial you in the small hours of the morning and leave disjointed, rambling voice mails about how well he was doing without you, how much time he had now that you weren’t pestering him, how many people he’d slept with since the last time you'd seen each other. All of it was bullshit, obviously, but it was his bullshit. Somehow, he always knew just how to get under your skin. “Scratch that – I’ll take care of it. I should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to get through a month without my help.”

You grit your teeth. Swallowing as much of your anger as you could, you stepped in front of him, snatching your phone out of his hands and retreating before he had a chance to take it back. You were tempted to look at what he’d been scrolling through, see which conversation had gotten him so upset, but you forced yourself to turn off your phone completely, to set it down on the far side of your coffee table and think about something else. It’d take hours to fix the damage he’d done, to unblock all the acquaintances he didn’t approve of and the apologize to all the friends he'd insulted under your name. You’d rather get rid of him first, then try to fix everything he'd already started to tear apart. “Get out.”

He scanned over you, his eyes lingering on the wrinkles in your button-up shirt, the cheap material of your dress pants. “Y'know, if we were still together, you wouldn’t have to put up with that shitty job. You could just quit and finally move in with me.”

Once, you’d let him buy you a new laptop when yours gave out in the middle of the semester and you didn’t think you’d be able to scrape enough up for another before you next exam. It’d been a used model, already a few years out of date, and you swore up and down that you’d pay him back when you had the money, but he’d held it over your head for months, smirked and gloated and taken every opportunity to remind you how grateful you should be to have a boyfriend so willing to spoil his oh-so-unfortunate partner. He hadn’t let you pay him back. He hadn’t let you pay for anything until he’d gotten tired of playing savior and went back to acting like a brat, too desperate for your attention to care if he was in-charge. You doubt he’d be any more bearable if you actually moved in with him, if you lived in his house and relied on his good-will. If you actually depended on him.

But, rather trying to say any of that in a way he’d understand, you sighed, clenching your eyes shut. “It’s an internship and I need it for my major. Get out.”

His scowl wavered. “When did you get so bossy? This isn’t going to work if you think you can tell me what to do.”

“I’m not bossy, you’re just a prick. Get out.”

He sat up, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Cut it out. I’m not going to want to get back together if you keep acting so immature.

“I don’t want to get back together with you.” And then, gesturing towards your door. “Get. Out.”

If nothing else, that seemed to shut him up.

It took a few seconds, but eventually, he responded. There was an airy laugh, a thin smile, a certain air of hurt disbelief as he sat up. “You really aren't kidding, are you?”

You didn’t indulge him with a reaction. Rather, you watched with a pressed scowl as he pushed himself to his feet and stepped toward you. He was in his usually ‘too cool to try, but too bored not to’ get-up – ripped jeans and long sleeves striped in black and violet, half a dozen rings and bolts pierced into the curve of each ear and a belt from a brand you couldn’t name, but knew you were supposed to tacked on to further feed into his ego. He must’ve been here all day. His short hair was more disheveled than he usually liked it to be, and you could see more irritation in his dark eyes than you were used to, paired with a certain type of frustration that only ever slipped out when you managed to keep him waiting. You hadn’t, technically (you couldn’t be late to meet someone who you didn’t want to see), but you didn’t bother trying to point that out.

“I thought it’d be nice to see you after… How long? Five weeks?” He glanced down, starting to toy with something in his back pocket. “I thought we could order lunch, talk for a while, maybe watch a movie or something. Then, I don’t know…” His smile took on an apologetic lull, almost pleading. “Kiss and make up? It’s not like any of this is new for us.”

He wasn’t wrong. You’d been together for a year and a half, and most of that had been spent caught up in ear-splitting, tear-inducing, world-ending fights. He’d burn the notes you borrowed from your classmate, and you'd refuse to talk to him for a week. You’d decide you were over his constant mood swings and go on a date with the cute guy from your calculus class, and he’d mail a slab of raw meat to your best friend because, in his own words, ‘you couldn’t come up with such a stupid idea by yourself’. It wasn’t balanced, you would never be able to give as much as he took, but still. When he started yelling, you did too, and when he showed up at your door a few days later, his eyes still bloodshot from crying, you always took him back. Because he was Kunikuzushi. Because you loved him.

Because you knew he’d make your life hell, if you didn’t.

Which was exactly why you couldn’t just… kiss and make up, this time. Not if it’d mean swallowing your pride and letting him get everything he wanted.

You sighed, but kept your arms crossed, your expression stern. “I’m tired, Kuni. I don’t want to do this anymore.” You paused, bit down on the side of your tongue. “It’s not good for either of us. We’re not good together. I don’t want to pretend that we are.”

His smile wavered, but didn’t fall. “What do you mean, babe?”

“I mean,” You braced yourself, shut your eyes. “I think you should leave.”

At least he seemed to hear that. You watched with as little sympathy as you could manage as his grin cracked and fell away, as his shoulders slumped downward, as he let out an airy chuckle that cracked halfway through. “You’re breaking up with me?”

“We broke up a month ago.” And he’s been insufferable ever since. “And we’re not getting back together.”

Parted lips, glassy eyes. He raked a hand through his bangs, doing what he could to blink away the tears slowly forming in the corners of his eyes. This wasn’t new, and yet, you still found yourself struggling not to break, not to embrace him and mutter soothing nothings while he sobbed quietly into your shirt and wrapped his arms around your waist and, inevitably, ended up on his knees, his face buried between your legs as he made you cum until you forgot why you’d been mad at him in the first place. “Fine. That’s fine. Honestly, that’s great. I don’t know why I’d ever want to be with such a heartless bit—” His voice broke before he could finish. He made a half-hearted effort to wipe at his eyes, but that only drew more attention to the tears starting to roll down his flushed cheeks, only made you more tempted to pull him into a kiss and act like this had never happened. “Fine. If you’re really that sick of me, I’ll go.”

He pushed past you, starting towards your door. That was what you wanted. Kunikuzushi gone, your apartment empty, your life just a little less fucked than it always seemed to be when he was a part of it. You should’ve let him go. You should’ve stood there until he was gone. You should’ve let him leave.

But you heard another hitched sob, a string of muttered swearing, and something in your chest broke open. With a shallow sigh, you dropped your arms to your sides, forcing yourself to speak through clenched teeth. “…do you want a hug before you leave?”

Kunikuzushi glanced over his shoulder. “A hug? What do you think I am, a toddler?”

“It's the only thing I'm putting on the table. Do you want it or—”

You never got the chance to finish. His arms were already around you, pinning your arms to your torso as he buried his face in your shirt. You choked back your protests, forced yourself to fight the instinct to push him away, and in a few excoriating seconds, his hold on you loosened, his back straightening, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder and his lips pressing into your neck. There was a lingering8 kiss laid onto your jugular, then another to the corner of your jaw, but you didn’t bother to try and push him away. Instead, you only shifted in his arms, nudging at his chest. You’d gotten yourself into this, called him back when he was a few steps away from leaving. You only had yourself to blame. “I didn’t say you could—”

“I knew you’d change your mind.” A hand fell to the small of your back, the heel of his palm pressing into the base of your spine. “You always do. You always make the right choice, in the end.”

You opened your mouth, ready to remind him that you weren’t taking him back, but you hesitated. He was always weird, just a little too hostile, just a little too desperate to keep you close to him, but you didn’t trust the levity in his voice, the way his smile pressed into your skin despite how close he’d come to crying a few minutes ago. “I think…” You trailed off, bit down on the side of your tongue. “I haven't changed my mind. You have to—”

Something flat and stiff pressed into your back – the blunt edge of a switchblade. His switchblade, you realized, dredging up hazy memories of bandages wrapped around thighs and hollow promises that he’d be more careful, next time. You heard his nails drum against smooth metal, felt something cold and sharp cut into the skin above your shoulder blade, and you froze, your mind instantly going blank.

He laughed, the noise cracking and airy. Warm breath fanned over the crook of your neck, and he melted into you, nuzzling into the curve of your throat. “I love you.” And then, pressing the blade into your flesh. “Say you love me too.”

Automatic, robotic. The only thing you could spit out through grit teeth. “I love you.”

Another laugh – more giddy, this time, more eager. If he noticed your reluctance, it clearly didn’t bother him. The switchblade was pulled up to the nape of your neck, then drawn in a loose arch to your collarbone, the tip never leaving your skin. “I mean, yeah, obviously. That’s why we get to stay together, even when we’re at each other’s throats.”

He paused, burrowed into you. In turn, you were dragged further into his chest, but pushed away just as quickly, allowed to get just far enough to make it possible for Kunikuzushi to raise his free hand to the collar of your shirt and drag you into a clumsy, rushed kiss – too rough and too forceful for anyone but him to enjoy. His teeth scraped against your lips, his tongue dragging over yours, but he pulled away with a breathy groan, his pale cheeks flushed and his eyes still glossed over. “…you didn’t get with anyone while I was gone, right? You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

How could you? He hadn’t given you room to breathe, let alone get past anything more than a first date with someone new. Even when you’d been together (actually together, not fighting or on a break), he’d been so suffocating, so possessive, you’d never been able to get any further than heavy petting, oral, his body on top of yours and your legs wrapped around his waist before he said something you couldn’t brush off and the night devolved into something... less romantic. It was hard to be with someone like Kunikuzushi, someone who acted like they’d rather give up the air in their lungs than a second of your time. Even after a year and a half, it was hard to let your guard down around him when he seemed so willing to give you every reason you ever could've needed to keep it up.

You guessed you should’ve expected this, looking back on it. He’d was bound to get tired of waiting for you to trust him eventually.

This was just his way of letting you know that he’d never really needed you to, in the first place.

Stiltedly, you shook your head, and he let out a relieved sigh. “Perfect. That’s why we’re supposed to be together.” He kissed the corner of your lips, then your forehead. “You’d never hurt me.”

He didn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he took you by the hand – his fingers intertwining with yours as he turned and tugged you forward, moving to lead you further into your apartment. The switchblade left your skin, falling momentarily to his side, and for a few brief seconds, you considered trying to get away, jerking yourself out of your hold and running as far away as you could get from him and his fucking issues. You made a passing effort, but Kunikuzushi’s grip turned crushing as soon as you began to shift, and you gave up before he could break something more vital than your heart. He was between you and the door, you and your phone. He had a knife, a weapon. He had you, and until he decided he was done, he wasn’t going to let you go without a fight.

With little ceremony, you were drawn out of your living room and into your cramped bedroom. Kunikuzushi let go of your hand, but you didn’t have time to run before you were being pushed onto your unmade bed, before he was straddling your waist and pinning you to the center of the mattress. The knife was brought back to your neck, but quickly plunged lower, slid beneath your uppermost button and used to separate thread from fabric. Somehow, annoyance managed to overshadow your panic, if only for as long as it took for one rational thought to be followed by another. This was your nicest shirt, one of a handful you’d splurged on for your internship, but it wasn’t like Kunikuzushi would ever understand anything like that. It wasn’t like he’d ever tried to, before.

The tip caught on the slight dip below your diaphragm and you winced, a few dots of red immediately seeping into white fabric. You winced, beginning to protest on reflex. “Kuni’, that—”

“I’ll take care of it.” Absentminded, only half conscious that he was speaking at all. He reached the hem, pulling his switchblade free and letting your dress shirt fall away from your chest and over your shoulders, as useless as it was embarrassing. “I’ll take care of everything when we’re done. Just sit pretty and keep your mouth shut for a while.”

Really, you could only wonder why you hadn’t dumped him sooner.

Your pants were next, slits carved into the material over your hips and ruined fabric torn away. He moved to cut off your boxers, too, but seemed to hesitate, to linger, to find the strength to pause just long enough to drag two fingers over your clothed slit and press the pad of his thumb into your clit. You hissed at the friction, but Kunikuzushi only smiled, dipping his head low enough for his lips to ghost over your collarbone, then the midline of your chest, then the tender spot just below your navel. The last was accompanied by a slight groan, throaty and deep. You did what you could to block it out. This would be better if you didn’t think about it, if you just imagined he was trying to win you back after a fight, that there was a wilting rose in his other hand and not a knife already stained with your blood.

It was almost a mercy when his hands finally slipped under the hem of your boxers, doing away with your last layer of protection with only a slight laugh and a lilting smile. You did what you could to relax, to lean back and close your eyes, but Kunikuzushi’s weight was an ever-present anchor to reality, only made worse as he shifted lower, as he pulled your legs apart and threw them over his shoulders. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into the inside of your thighs, his teeth ghosting over tender flesh as he sucked harsh bruises into whatever he could reach. This was his favorite part, by far. He’d always been clingy – possessive to the point of total, nail-biting, jaw-locking paranoia. At first, you’d been able to write it off as a sort of overeager enthusiasm that came with a new relationship, but he’d never stopped. He was always ready, always desperate to dig his teeth into your skin and leave as many marks as you’d let him – or rather, as many as he possibly could before you were able to pry him away. Even then, you’d tried to think of it as cute, just one of the quirks of your immature-but-loving boyfriend. Now, all you could do was hope it’d be over soon.

It took him full minutes to actually reach your cunt, for his tongue to lave over your slit. Instantly, you stiffened, clenching your eyes shut and attempting to ignore the heady sounds of his whimpering moans, the feeling of his tongue tracing patterns in your entrance. It was sloppy, messy, all drool and teeth and clutching hands, but warmth flooded into your core as the bridge of his nose ground into your clit, as his hands wrapped around your hips and dragged you that much closer to his mouth. Everything he did was dirty, but he knew you, knew your body, knew that you’d have to spread your legs as soon as his tongue thrust into you.

You arched your back as two fingers slid into your entrance alongside his tongue, scissoring you open while his attention shifted to your clit – his lips sealing around the sensitive bundle of nerves while he sucked gently. If he hadn’t been so vocal, it might’ve been more bearable, but no, he couldn’t seem to stop whining into your cunt, to stop sending waves of those awful reverberations from your clit to your core every time he whimpered or grunted or moaned. Before you could stop yourself, your hips were rolling weakly against his mouth as he nursed you through your sudden climax. When you fell limp, his mouth fell away, but his hand still cupped your pussy, his fingers still curling and thrusting inside of you.

He didn’t slow down, didn’t let up, not until you were crying out and clenching around him, not until you could feel the slick running down your thighs, soaking into your sheets. He didn’t stop until you were babbling – spitting out incoherent pleas for him to slow down before the overstimulation turned from overwhelming to agonizing. You were forced to endure another kiss to the inside of your thigh, the wet sound of his tongue running over his fingers, but he pulled away in a few seconds, finally letting you have just enough space to breathe. Even that was temporary, cut short by his lips crashing into yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue, as little as you wanted to. You could feel him panting against your lips, and it was all you could do not to scream.

He pulled away abruptly, grinning. “You’re a virgin.”

It wasn’t a question, but you found yourself shaking your head, denying it on instinct. “I never—"

“You didn’t have to.” There was a peck to the corner of your lips, another to your cheek. “I know everything about you. Your parents were too strict to let you date in high school, and none one’s ever lasted more than a couple of weeks with you before me. Since you wouldn’t so much as take off your shirt around me before our three-month anniversary, I’m going to assume you weren’t a total slut before we met.”

You narrowed your eyes, shoving gently at his chest. You just needed space. You just needed him to get away from you. “So?”

“So,” he leaned in, his smiling growing that much wider. “I’m going to ruin you.”

It was something about his tone, the dark glint in his eyes as he leered over you. Your heart dropped in your chest, and very distinctly, something very large and very sharp began to crawl up your throat.

You started to shake your head, but he was already edging jeans downward, already freeing his cock – the flushed tip leaking precum in fat, white pearls. His weight was enough to keep you pinned down as he aligned himself with your entrance, as he traced the head over the length of your slit, and his eyes never left your face, your expression painted with heavy strokes of horror and disbelief. He never wavered, never blinked, even as he thrust inside of you, bottoming out in a single uninterrupted motion. Even as you cried out, the sound more pained than anything else. Even as you felt a single, warm teardrop fall off of his cheek and onto yours. You hadn’t realized you’d shut your eyes, not until you forced yourself to open them, not until you found him cloudy-eyed and grinning above you.

He was crying, again.

Huh.

You thought he would’ve given up on that, by now.

He wasn’t gentle. He’d never been delicate with you, but right now, it felt like he was trying to be rough, to pin your legs against your chest and split you open every time he moved his hips, every time he found a way to hit something deeper and more sensitive inside of you. You tried to scream, but your voice caught in your throat, strangling itself into something more akin to a cracked whine and a few broken whimpers. The stretch, the pressure was more than you could take. You couldn’t stop yourself – going rigid underneath him, your eyes rolling back as your mouth fell open in a silent, agonized cry. Your reactions, however involuntary, only seemed to spur Kunikuzushi on, his pace growing more erratic and his breath now coming in quick, shallow pants. No matter what you did, it just made him worse.

You could hear him talking, distantly – little mumbled tangents forming between thrusts. “You’re just so—” He cut himself off with a long, wordless moan. “We’ll do this every day, until— until you know you don’t need anyone but me. Then, you’ll love me, and you’ll never have to—” He thrust deeper into you, letting out a fracturing laugh. “And then, I’ll rip out your tongue and cut off your legs if you try to leave. We’ll always be together. No one will ever, ever take you away from me again.”

You weren’t with him. You didn’t want to be with him. If it wasn’t for his immaturity, his manipulativeness, his fucking knife, this wouldn’t be—

His knife.

Both of his hands were on your thighs, his nails digging into your flesh, keeping your knees pressed into your chest. He wasn’t holding it. He couldn’t be.

Without daring to look away from him, you groped around the mattress blindly, your fingertips eventually brushing against something cold and metallic – his switchblade lying abandoned on the edge of the bed. You took it up before you could hesitate, gripping the handle tightly enough for the sharp corners to bite into your palm, for your hand to cramp and go numb by the time you found the strength to actually lift it up. You didn’t aim. You didn’t have time to, not unless you wanted to think about what you were doing, not unless you wanted to let Kunikuzushi win. Not unless you could—

The curved tip just barely made contact with the skin above his collarbone before you faltered, before he had time to catch your wrist in an iron-clad hold. You tried to let go of the switchblade reflexively, but his hand shifted to wrap around yours, to keep the blade pressed into his chest – applying just enough pressure to break the skin. “Do it.” Soft, drawn out, too eager to mean anything good. “I’d let you carve your name into me, if you wanted to. All you'd have to do is ask.”

You didn’t ask. You didn’t want to. You didn't want any of this, but Kunikuzushi pressed the blade in his skin regardless, letting out muttered confessions of love and loyalty as a thin red line formed in his flesh, as blood dripped down his chest and disappeared behind the loose collar of his shirt, blotting against the dark fabric. He guided your blade to his lips, next, making a small nick in the corner of his mouth before taking the switchblade out of your hand and tossing it onto the floor, out of your reach. It would’ve hurt less if he’d tried to hurt you, too, taken the blade to your skin after his own. If would've hurt less if he’d acknowledged that you’d tried to do anything at all.

You didn’t have much time to linger on that thought, though. He was already moving again, already making up for time lost by fucking into you like a man crazed. With no preparation, no warning, he jerked forward, his chest pressing into yours as he kissed you, as he forced his tongue past your teeth and smeared his blood over your lips. It felt like you were drowning in nickel, being slowly suffocated by some nameless, slick, oppressive force. It felt like you were choking, despite being able to breathe, to think as clearly as you’d ever been able to around him. It felt like you were going to die.

But, you weren’t. He’d never be so kind, he’d never let you have that kind of comfort, not when he was still grinding into you, not when his cock was twitching against the walls of cunt and he was groaning into your mouth without reservation. You could feel your poor overstimulated pussy clenching around him, your vision burning white around the edges as, for lack of anything more stable to hold onto, you wrapped your arms around his neck and raked your nails over his back, clawing into whatever you could reach. If he noticed, if he cared, it only worked to drag him that much closer, to leave him as deep as he could possibly be when he finally finished, when you felt something warm and vile flood into you.

He stayed like that for a long moment, silent and unmoving, his chest pressed into yours and his lips trailing from your mouth to your throat, settling just above your jugular. It was a small mercy when he finally pulled away and straightened his back, easing himself out of you and wiping the blood off of his face, his neck. You watched from a distance as he fixed his clothes, before pushing himself to his feet, never sparing you so much as a second glance. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Pack your stuff, and make sure you’ve gotten your shit together by then. I’m not letting a mess like you into my apartment.” He paused, lingered long enough to smile. With no sense of visible urgency, he walked to the side of your bed, retrieving his switchblade and kissing your forehead softly, gingerly, with a kind of tenderness you could only wish he’d found a few hours earlier. “I love you, babe. Even when you act like a fucking idiot.”

His grin pressed into flesh, cutting and cruel.

“And I’m so, so glad you’ve realized that you love me too.”

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poisonlove · 1 year

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Miss Ortega | j.o

part 7

—The cell is made up of the nucleus and the cytoplasm and is enclosed by the cell membrane, which regulates passage in and out. The nucleus contains chromosomes, the cell's genetic material, and the nucleolus, which produces ribosomes. My eyes shift to Olivia, who was jotting down my words in her notebook.

In the late afternoon, I was at Olivia's house to help her study science, primarily about what a cell is and its functions. Olivia nods, giving me a nervous smile.

—One last question... what's cell division?— She puts the tip of her pen between her teeth, thoughtful.

—Cell division is the process by which a cell multiplies, splitting into two. In prokaryotes, it happens through binary fission (DNA filament duplication and subsequent division into two identical new individuals). In eukaryotes, it occurs through mitosis and, in reproductive cells, meiosis.— I say, shrugging casually.

Olivia writes it all down and then closes her notebook with a soft thud, sighing with satisfaction and tiredness.

—We're done,— she murmurs weakly, looking at me with a smile on her lips.

—We're done,— I repeat, and she stretches, slightly tense from maintaining an uncomfortable position for a long time.

—I'm not surprised you never get a failing grade, you're a book,— she says as she gets up from her desk, flopping onto her bed's mattress.

—Don't exaggerate...— I chuckle and give her a playful look. —Now... will you let me hear something you've written?— I nervously bite my lip, accepting the invitation to sit beside her on the bed.

Olivia sighs and reluctantly agrees to my request, blushing as she looks at me. —Wait,— she murmurs softly, leaning towards the edge of the bed, picking up a guitar case from the floor. Olivia glances at me sideways, holding the guitar in her hands.

—I'll sing you a little snippet of the song, okay? Also... I haven't finished it yet,— she says, toying with the guitar strings, likely tuning it.

I gaze in awe at her profile. Olivia had her head tilted down, holding the guitar in her lap. Her eyes briefly meet mine for a split second before she looks away with flushed cheeks.

Taking a breath, she closes her eyes, focusing.

—And I won't fight for love if you won't meet me halfway...— she begins to sing. And I say that I'm through but this song's still for you–

Her voice sounds angelic, surprising me with her talent. Olivia glances at me briefly, giving me a small smile.

—All I want is love that lasts— her eyes glisten, still looking at me.

—Is all I want too much to ask?— her fingers pause, interrupting the sweet melody. Olivia sets the guitar aside and looks at me with embarrassment, accepting my applause.

—Oh my god... you have an amazing voice,— I admit, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, staring at a fixed point on her lap. —Thank you,— she offers a shy smile, and I reciprocate.

A knock on the door draws our attention to the entrance of her room. Olivia's mother, Emma, is standing there with a smile on her lips.

—T/N, dear, why don't you stay for dinner with us?— Mrs. Rodrigo suggests.

With a smile, I look at Olivia's reaction. She's looking at me with bright eyes and a smile, nodding enthusiastically.

—That would be fantastic,— I reply, and immediately, two arms wrap around my neck, hugging me. The force makes me lie back on the bed, and amid laughter, I return the hug, smiling shyly at Emma, who watches us with tenderness as I hold Olivia in my arms.

(...) —So... how's it going with the girl you like?— Enid asks, hugging a pillow in her arms.

After helping Olivia study, I received an invitation from Enid to have a pajama party at her house, inviting Olivia as well since she was with me. The blonde only knew that I liked someone, but she didn't know who, and for obvious reasons, she was really mad at me. I know she's my best friend, but I still couldn't tell her that I was in love with Professor Ortega.

—Actually, it's all going wrong... she said it's better if I forget what happened,— I lower my head towards my lap, sadly biting my lower lip. —Well, what a jerk...— Enid makes a face. —If only I knew who she was, I would have given her a piece of my mind,— she says absentmindedly, pulling at the corners of the pillow in her hands.

—You tried your best,— I smile sideways, and Enid throws the pillow at my face, messing up my hair. I chuckle slightly and wink at her.

—What do you think about Olivia, though?— she suddenly asks, lying down on the bed. I turn toward the door, relieved when I see that the subject of conversation is still downstairs preparing popcorn for the movie.

—Are you crazy? She's here...— I whisper, and she rolls her eyes at my comment.

—I don't see her,— Enid turns toward me, focusing her attention on me.

I sigh and shake my head. —She's nice...— I shrug indifferently, smiling at the blonde. Enid raises an eyebrow and gives me a smile, silently asking me to tell her more.

—She's beautiful... there's no doubt... but you know I'm in love with someone else,— I play with my fingers, embarrassed by the situation.

—She'd be perfect for you, you know? Plus... she really likes you,— Enid confesses. She adjusts her pajamas and gets under the covers, getting ready to watch the movie on her room's TV.

—I know... but for now... I only see her as a friend,— I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and look confused at Enid's reaction, who is looking with panic over my shoulder.

I turn to her line of sight and pale when I see Olivia near the door. The brunette awkwardly leaves the popcorn bowl on the shelf and, with tears in her eyes, looks at me, shaking her head with regret. I stand up and bite my lips, mentally scolding myself for being so stupid.

I close the door behind me.

—Liv, wait,— I quickly descend the stairs, trying to catch up with Olivia. The brunette ignores me and walks toward the couches, searching for her jacket. I quicken my pace and grab her wrist. Olivia turns around and looks at me with tear-streaked cheeks, making me feel guilty.

—What do you want? You've said enough,— she says with venom, clenching her jaw.

—Liv...— I whisper, and her eyes glisten. Her shoulders relax, and she tentatively shuffles in place, wanting to hear what I have to say.

—Tell me...— her voice tone is clearly broken, showing that my confession has hurt her. I step closer, placing my hands around her face, wiping away some tears. Her eyes look at me sweetly despite the pain she's feeling. She places a hand against mine, giving me a comforting squeeze.

—Right now... I'm in love with someone else,— she nods, with bitterness in her mouth. —But it doesn't mean that in the future, I can't be with you... if you heard the whole conversation... and I'm pretty sure you did... I said that for now, I see you as a friend,— I smile sidelong, stroking her cheek. Olivia tilts her chin up and licks her lips, looking at me seriously. Suddenly, we're at the same height level since she's on tiptoes. My breath catches in my throat, and I timidly observe what the brunette wants to do.

—Kiss me...— she whispers, closing her eyes and clenching her jaw. —I just want to kiss you... at least once,— she confesses, making my chest tighten. I remove one hand from her face and trail it down her back, stopping at her waist, pulling Olivia closer to me.

—This...— I swallow, nervous due to the proximity. —This I can do— I lean toward her face and close the minimal distance between our lips. The kiss is sweet and at the same time salty from her tears. Olivia wraps her arms around my neck, sighing against my lips, receiving the long-desired kiss. The rhythm of the kiss is slow; we're simply enjoying the contact between our mouths. Olivia taps her tongue against my lower lip, asking for permission to enter. I part my lips, and our tongues meet, tentatively exploring each other's mouths.

I press my forehead against hers after ending the kiss. The brunette has a smile on her lips, looking at me with shining eyes of happiness. She leans in and briefly connects our lips for a split second before pulling away.

—That was... wow,— I admit, and she nods, completely agreeing.

I have to admit that the kiss was beautiful, I really enjoyed it. Her lips were sweet, inviting in a different way from Jenna's. Just mentioning the brunette makes me grimace, and I try to erase the image of her eyes from my mind so as not to ruin the moment. Olivia looks at me smiling, happy about what just happened.

—So... shall we go upstairs to watch the movie?— I suggest, and she nods slowly, starting to climb the stairs, our hands still intertwined.

—So... can you wait? I know it sounds horrible to ask, but I want to know, I want to find out if it's truly over with... the other person. I swear, if she's convinced that our... relationship? I don't know what to call it... is completely over... I'll give myself a chance to be with you,— I timidly ask, nervous about making this proposition. Olivia sighs and nods her head with both sadness and excitement at having a chance with me.

—Yes... you're... you're right, you know? I understand... it's not easy to choose between two girls you like... I'll wait... and if you choose me... I promise I'll never leave, T/N,— she admits, making me shiver slightly at the intensity of her gaze. I blush.

—Alright... because I was already getting ready to chase after you to talk,— I joke, and she chuckles softly, tilting her head back.

Her fingers tighten around my hand, stroking the back of my hand with her thumb.

—I wouldn't have gone anywhere... not in pajamas, obviously,— she raises her head with pride, and I burst out laughing at the expression on her face.

—Well... now let's go watch the movie? Enid's waiting for us,— I suggest, and she nods, starting to climb the stairs while still holding my hand, our fingers entwined.

It was late, but I was still awake, studying for the English literature exam I had the next day. The words on the pages were blurry, and I was unsure if I'd remember half of what I was reading due to how tired I was. But I had to keep going to be able to say that I had at least tried.

The vibration of the phone on the desk pulled my attention away from the book. With a sigh of relief, I picked up the device, thanking my lucky stars for the break. I looked at the screen, puzzled, when I saw that both Olivia and Jenna had messaged me.

I decided to read Olivia's message first.

Liv: heyyy (1:13 AM)

Damn, was it already one in the morning?

Yo: Hey Liv!

Liv: Are you done studying?

I furrowed my brows and nervously bit my lower lip.

Yo: Not really.

Yo: But if you need help, I'm here.

Liv: Great! Actually, you'd do me a huge favor if you could open the window.

I closed the chat and walked over to a corner of my room, spotting Olivia in front of my house, holding her phone. I opened the window and leaned out, smiling at the girl standing on the street.

—What are you doing here?— I whispered, not wanting to wake up the rest of my family.

Olivia looked up from her phone and smiled at me.

As a response, she moved closer to stand right beneath my window, gazing up at the tree near my house. With a swift but careful movement, she started climbing its branches, eventually reaching out to touch the edge of my window with her fingertips.

—Are you crazy or something?— I looked at my friend with concern.

—If you help me, you'd be doing me a favor,— she panted, not being able to hold on much longer.

I extended my hand and grabbed hers, helping her into my room. With a little jump, she made it all the way in, looking at me with a nervous smile.

—So, spill it,— I absentmindedly stared at the lamp light that was focused on the book on my desk. I sighed in frustration.

—In a few days, there's the end-of-semester dance... you know, the start of the Christmas break...— she put her hands in her pockets, blushing as she looked at me.

Oh... I knew where this was going.

—T/N... would you like to come to the dance with me?— she asked, sounding hopeful.

I opened my mouth in surprise and remained silent for a few seconds, wanting to think about her proposal. In reality... I wasn't even sure if I wanted to go, as I didn't want to be a third wheel between Enid and Ajax... but if I had to choose someone to go with... besides Jenna, of course... it would definitely be Olivia Rodrigo.

—Yes...— I whispered, and she leaned slightly forward, not having heard my response. I widened my eyes when I saw the living room light shining through my slightly open door. Quickly, I grabbed Olivia by the shoulders and motioned for her to move towards the window, needing to get out of here immediately. Olivia placed a foot on a tree branch before turning back in my direction.

—So? — my eyes darted towards the door as I used my hands to urge Olivia. I looked at her with wide eyes before nodding repeatedly. —Yes?— she asked, with a smile on her lips.

—Yes! Now go before you get caught— I muttered under my breath, looking at Olivia. She nodded and leaned towards my face, briefly connecting our lips for a split second. I looked at her in surprise but didn't say anything, watching closely as she jumped down from the tree, landing on her feet.

—Goodnight— she smiled at me, waving her hand, and ran down the sidewalk towards her house on the other side of the neighborhood.

With a yawn, I returned to my desk, picked up my phone, turned off the lamp, and collapsed onto my bed. A sigh of relief escaped my mouth as I heard the sound of the toilet flushing.

Well, it was just a bathroom break.

I turned on my phone and went on WhatsApp, reading Jenna's message. I couldn't deny that I was quite nervous; I didn't expect her to message me after days... maybe a week or two without hearing from her.

Ortega: Are you awake?

Yo: Yes.

Jenna's smile appeared on my screen, and I responded to her call with confusion.

—Hello?— I asked, hearing a breath on the other end. Jenna remained silent for a few seconds before speaking.

—Is it true?— she asked, leaving me completely stunned. I got under the covers, trying to figure out what to say.

—What?— I inquired, not exactly sure what she was talking about. She sighed in frustration before gritting her teeth.

—There are rumors at school that you and Rodrigo are together... is it true?— she muttered, sounding both annoyed and curious.

—Excuse me?— I was rather incredulous, not being able to believe what I was hearing. Jenna Ortega had called me in the middle of the night to ask me something like this.

—Is it true or not? ANSWER— she raised her voice, noticeably angry. I could hear her heavy breathing, making me feel uncomfortable and slightly afraid.

—No... We're not together... we're just getting to know each other... that's it,— I confessed, nervously biting my lower lip. —But anyway, isn't it none of your business who I'm dating? After all, you were the one who wanted distance a few days ago,— I retorted, annoyed by her attitude.

Jenna sighed loudly and ended the call, leaving me feeling both triumphant and confused. Whatever had gotten into her, I didn't know, but in any case, she had no right to treat me like this, especially after she wanted to pull away.

I placed the phone on the bedside shelf and closed my eyes, trying to fall asleep. The ghost of Olivia's kiss lingered on my lips, while Jenna's voice echoed in my head.

To say that I'm confused is an understatement.

#wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #miércoles addams #jenna ortega x y/n #wednesday x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday addams x you #professor #olivia rodrigo #kisses

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