#I am perfectly normal about the roomies | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

introverted-imagineer · 1 year

Text

Underneath The Surface

Tyler Galpin x reader.

Warning: I have not proofread this, but am curious to know if people want more Wednesday content.

Language, Romantic themes, violent themes, and bullying themes.

Hope you enjoy 🙂

Y/N = Your Name

Y/C = Your Colour

There’s more to leading a double life than people perceive. There’s the constant state of paranoia, the guilt of deception, the constant looming anxiety that one day, something so small, unpredictable, and avoidable, will catch you out at any moment. But that drive for survival is so strong, the desperation for acceptance, the longing to fit in…to be normal. That’s how I justified my double life, but it didn’t stop all those horrible feelings from being a constant on my mind.

I didn’t ask to be like this, I didn’t want to be like this. Jericho was meant to be an extension of the safe haven that the gates of Nevermore promised its students. But Jericho was anything but. Normies in Jericho simply tolerated the freaks and the outcasts, it was no secret that the small economy of Jericho was carried by the profits, and donations of Evermore Academy. My Aunt, Principal Larissa Weems, ensured that was handled.

Being a shapeshifter, I always thought if I didn’t use my powers, if I ignored them, then I didn’t need to worry about upholding the identity of an outcast. But being a Weems, my family wasn’t going to neglect tradition and send me to a normie school, just because I was indifferent to the way I was born. Every shapeshifter is born with a ‘primary state’. For the Weems, that platinum icy blonde hair was a dominant gene, characteristic of every member of the Weems bloodline. It was like a stamp of identity. Any outcast could easily identify a member of the Weems family. Shapeshifters, especially Weems, were perceived as beautiful, elegant, and exquisite forms of human embodiment. However, a slash to the face from a Siren as a child, a very rare form of magic, left my primary state scarred for life. Siren attacks left a very distinct mark on a person. The scars never heal normally, leaving a distinctive dark indigo mark across one’s body. Nothing that could be hidden from a normie. The mark left from a Siren was too…inconceivable and whimsical to be ignored. Because of my distinct features, there was no hiding that I was truly and undeniably an outcast without the use of magic. Something growing up, I was so adamant I was never going to use, even after the attack.

Being the relative of the Principal of Nevermore also made me public enemy number one amongst my so-called ‘peers’ at the academy. I didn’t like to refer to them as my peers, peers alluded to a being of equality, and friendliness, however, nobody wanted to engage with the relative of authority. While everyone had their cliques, roomies, and friendly acquaintances, being ‘That Weems Weirdo’ equated to a lonely existence. Nevermore caters to the Freaks, Outcasts and Monsters, but being a weirdo was not something on the cards even Nevermore students had the patience to tolerate.

Rejected by the community I was born into, and rejected by the Normies. I was used to loneliness, but even the loneliest of lonely needed companionship. The Weathervane Cafe was my source of companionship. While I was still Y/N at Weathervane, I wasn’t the Weems Weirdo, I wasn’t plagued by Siren scars. To the normies at Jericho, I was Y/N, the reliable cafe worker, Y/C hair, Y/C eyes, familiar and comforting smile that came free with every beverage, slice and scone served. At Weathervane, I could live the life I wanted so desperately, to be an unextraordinary, perfectly ordinary normie.

The daily smell of roasted coffee beans, the sound of rustling newspapers, and books, the gentle chatter of Jericho residents, the students of Jericho High consuming dangerous amounts of caffeine as they desperately crammed for tests during late night study sessions, even the burns from the milk frotther that sent a searing pain down my fingertips. All these wonderfully ordinary things brought me more joy to me than one could possibly imagine. But there was one thing that my job at Weathervane that brought me more happiness than anything else in the world, normie or outcast. Tyler Galpin. Since the day I started at Weathervane, Tyler had always been there with a welcoming smile on his face. The Weathervane would fall to nothing if it weren’t for reliable Tyler Galpin working the late shifts, picking up the slack when someone else didn’t pull their weight, the one to call when someone called in sick. But more than that Tyler was extremely charming, caring, responsible…copiously enchanting.

I had the pleasure of meeting Tyler Galpin during my first shift at Weatherwave. ‘Just do whatever he says kid’ the manager had said, leaving the entire store to the control of two high-school students. The manager rarely had made appearances at the cafe since then. ‘Hey I’m Tyler…and you areee Y/N’ he said, leaning down perceptively to read my name tag. I simply nodded, shaking his large fingers that were warm, compared to my cold ones that had treaded through the cold frost of Jericho. Tyler walked me through everything I needed to know, from making espressos, stock intake, dishes and cleaning, to heating up cheese scones at the perfect temperature for serving. ‘So, this is a small town, and I’ve never seen you at Jericho High…are you a Nevermore student?’ He asked curiously. I’d seen how normies in this town had treated students of Nevermore. They were targets for bullying, scapegoats to explaining the inexplicable mysteries, ostracised from the majority of the town. I shook my head, the beginning of the double life I had built a year on in my awkward ‘friendship’ with Tyler. ‘So where do you go to school then?’ He had asked. ‘My parents prefer homeschooling’ I lied. ‘What do your parents do?’ He followed without a moment to think. ‘They keep to themselves…do lots of different jobs as they come along. Mostly working in investments and money’. Not a complete lie…but an extension of the truth. Unfortunately, my branch of the Weems family was a dark one…theft, robbery, and money laundering. My parents wanted a family of junior criminals and kleptomaniacs…I was a disappointment. ‘Where do you live?’ He then asked. ‘On the outskirts of town…we’re off any main road, my house is basically isolated amongst farmland.’ I cringed at that, certainly a creative way of describing Nevermore.

Tyler never pushed for more information, it was evident my brief and uninteresting answers were enough to satisfy his curiosities about me. Admiring him from afar was my safest option to keep Tyler in my life, even though I desperately craved his attention more. The shy quiet one from work, homeschooled, lives nowhere specific…a normal but eerie identity.

Weekends were my favourite. Weekends meant freedom, meant I could leave the gates of Nevermore and immerse myself into the world of which I longed to be part. Leaving the grounds of Nevermore, I could utilise my powers to live the life I wanted. After multiple events, injuries and damage, students with Shapeshifting abilities were prohibited from being able to use their powers outside of classroom activity. A rule insured by the enchantment placed across Nevermore's grounds, but not one that could extend outside it.

But most of all, the weekend roster meant working at the Weathervane, and weekend shifts at Weathervane meant late nights with Tyler.

Weekends were usually busy, serving both normies and outcasts, my normie shape-shift form undetectable to both. We usually went through a few sacks of coffee beans on a good weekend day, double if it was cold, which Jericho normally was. My conversations with Tyler mostly consisted of conveying orders to one another. But when the sun had set, and the cafe was quiet, Tyler would normally strike up a conversation in the absence of customers, through to closing time and final clean up. Tyler could hold a conversation about anything, or make any bleak moment interesting. My personal favourite activities of his are ‘invent a drink’ or ‘tidy up dance parties’. Nonsensical, but fun activities to pass the time during late night shifts…something especially exclusive to the pair of us. Tidy-up dance parties happened every weekend. Once the doors were locked, and customers were gone, Tyler would run around the store, shut all the blinds, turn the lights down, and turn the music up. He’d even taken the time to create a Tidy up dance party playlist on his phone. A welcome change of tune from the jazz-music that the manager insisted on playing for background music during the day. Tyler would use his mop as a dance partner, a microphone, and a puppet, as he nonsensically lip-synced and danced around the room. When all was done, and the lights went out, the quiet main street of Jericho completely vacant, he would always offer me a ride home. He would plead, and insist, but I always gave the same excuses. ‘I live in the total opposite direction you’re going’ or ‘my father texted, he’s on his way to pick me up’. He always seemed unconvinced, but I’d insist he goes home instead of wait. After long shifts and late night dance parties, it was never hard to convince him to go home to his warm bed. Once he’d gone, I’d make my way back to Nevermore, taking a shortcut through the woods, and transform back to the scarred, icy haired body I truly was.

Tyler was charismatic, chatty, inviting, and funny…all social skills I failed to possess. Quiet, selectively mute, shy, embarrassed. However my nature, no matter how unintended it may be, never seemed to phase Tyler. Every shift, he always had some funny joke up his sleeve, or secret tales from the sheriff’s office, copious theories and stories to go along with them. Many of these theories however all seemed to be rooted back to Nevermore…I could never tell if he admired or despised the place. But for one thing, Tyler had an insatiable curiosity for the stranger things in life. One, in particular, Wednesday Addams.

I remember the day Wednesday Addams came to Jericho. She certainly caused a stir at Nevermore. Unlike myself, she wasn’t a complete social outcast, in fact, her uninterested state of existence in engaging with her peers at Nevermore made her mysteriously endearing. An infectious repute that existed outside the gates of Nevermore as well…one that primarily intrigued the attention of Tyler Galpin.

Wednesday was a frequent visitor to the Weathervane Cafe. If ever she even walked past the store, Tyler had his eyes set upon her, watching her as she appeared from one window and disappeared behind the next. Wednesday was no different to how she was in school, short, direct, and unamused. Many people at Nevermore lost patience with her, but a few notable individuals were drawn to her. Tyler, being one of them. Tyler always knew her coffee order, he consistently tried to amuse her with the same jokes that had made me smile. It was one thing seeing the person you liked fall so hard for another, but it was even more discouraging when the person they admired poses such toxic, almost deleterious stature unceasingly. Wednesday, by no means, was a bad person, but she was certainly not shy in letting everyone around her feel as though she hated them.

Another wet cold rainy Sunday in Jericho meant that the bustle of traffic in Weathervane Cafe was busier than normal. On days like this, the extent of conversation with Tyler ranged from ‘Cappuccino’ or ‘One caramel slice to go’. While the small moments with Tyler were lost to customers ordering all sorts of crazy drink concoctions, the busier we were meant a longer clean up. That is what made the busy days with rude customers worth it.

As the day went on, with only two on staff, this meant no time for breaks. I could feel the swell of my ankles, the wave of nausea clouding my head as I slaved over the milk frother, the steam penetrating my face, sending hot shivers down my spine. I could feel my heart beating slower with every breath. By the time the cafe had settled down to a few customers, I didn’t feel I could catch my breath. My balance swayed as I shakily poured milk into the to-go cup, shakily reaching for a lid, struggling to clasp it onto the paper cup. I shifted my weight, placing one foot behind to catch myself before I fell, only to bump into the chest of a tall body. His long, muscly arms wrapped around my body, I could feel his chin propping against the top of my head as he gently caressed his hands around mine, steadying my shaking hands as he placed his palm on the top of my hands, clasping the lid onto the drink. He grabbed the coffee, taking a step back, placing his hand gently on the small of my back giving it a quick reassuring rub, his fingertips grazing across my side as he swiped his hand across, walking to give the customer their order. I leant forward, bracing myself against the counter. I couldn’t tell if it was due to exhaustion, or from the swooning, I had just received.

‘What do you call a convention full of tired people?’ Tyler’s voice gently whispered into my ear. I smiled to myself, a little chuckle emitting at the disbelief. Was he really trying to crack a joke? I smiled to myself, lifting my chin only slightly, just enough to catch his gaze as he leant down on the counter, using his elbows to keep steady. ‘A snooze fest’ he smiled. I shook my head, a smile beaming at the ridiculousness of it. Tyler chuckled. ‘Just 45 more minutes Y/N, then we can lock the door and have a tidy-up dance party…we’ve earnt it’ he said, still leant down in order to catch my gaze. I simply nodded, grabbed my water bottle, and took a deep gulp to cool my body down. ‘Hey I was thinking…’ *Ding* Tyler’s sentence was interrupted by the cafe door opening. Tyler quickly gathered himself, standing to attention to see who had entered the store. ‘Wednesday’ he called with a smile. I could feel the mortal magic of infatuation drain from my body. Of course, it had to be Wednesday. ‘Quad Espresso?’ He asked, already reaching for a cup. ‘I need to speak to you Tyler…in private’ she said, her eyes dancing between Tyler and myself. ‘Ah..sure…yeah’ he said ‘You okay here for a moment Y/N?’ He questioned, already walking around to the front of the counter to follow Wednesday as she walked straight towards the exit. Wednesday stopped in her tracks, turning her head, glancing at me as she turned her head to the side at the sound of my name. ‘Shit’ I whispered to myself. While my appearance was different to my primary state which was so familiar to everyone at Nevermore, I hadn’t ever considered changing my name when I applied for a job at the Weatherwave. But in true Wednesday fashion, she sharply turned her head back towards the door, stiffly walking outside with Tyler in tow.

I couldn’t help but feel sad, and insecure. It felt pathetic. I knew that Tyler was interested in Wednesday, that much was obvious…was it heartbreaking? Absolutely. Did I have any right to feel so betrayed and upset? Absolutely not. The cafe had few customers, and they had all been served. I couldn’t help but wonder. It was a stupid thought, it was creepy in fact. I don’t want to let this insecurity control me…but I couldn’t help it.

Before I could stop myself, I walked toward the back storage room, the smell of coffee beans, and the coolness of the refrigerator overwhelmed my senses as I walked deeper into the storage room. At the back of the storage fridge, a door led to the back of the building. I gently opened the door, propping it slightly ajar, just a crack…just enough to hear what was going on outside. I could hear Wednesday and Tyler chatting. Well…Wednesday talking at him. This was dumb, this was invasive. Why the hell was I doing this? It’s none of my business. I shook my head, disappointed in my own actions, shaking my head, making a step to walk away and leave the pair, but Tyler’s next sentence forced me to stay.

‘You guys are having the Rave’N next weekend, right?’. I felt my breath hitch in my throat, my heart dropping into my stomach. Many of Nevermore’s students had been in and out of the Weathervane today, talking about their outfits, their next shopping destination, some even carrying in paper bags, smiles on their faces as they sat in the booths, giving their friends a sneak peek of the contents of their bags. Wednesday mumbled to herself, and Tyler enquired further ‘So you’re not going?’ He questioned, almost with a tone of disappointment in his voice. I pressed my face against the door, my eye poking between the crack of the door in order to gauge the conversation. However, Wednesday, the perceptive girl she was quickly darted her head, her eyes catching mine. I quickly stepped back, the door slamming shut louder than I had hoped. I quickly paced towards the front of the cafe again, almost jogging. ‘Y/N?’ Tyler questioned. By the way, I so quickly stopped in my tracks, it was very clear by my stature I was trying not to be seen. I turned, swivelling on the balls of my feet, turning to face Tyler. He stood in the doorway, his hand on the doorknob. ‘I…I was looking for the rice milk’ I quickly stated. Almost demanding. He turned his head to the storage shelf behind the door. His arm quickly wrapped around the door, before turning back, holding out a carton. ‘I didn’t see anyone come in? Plus nobody ever asks for rice milk’ he stated chuckling. ‘Oh..um it’s for me’ I said, unconvincingly. He nodded, still holding out the carton as I stood, stuck in place, staring at his smirky face. ‘You gonna take it or not?’ He questioned, a slight breathy chuckle following. I shook my head, my head frazzled with guilt, I paced forward, my gaze directed at the floor as I grabbed the carton. My fingers gently brushed against his in exchange. I turned around walking back to the front. ‘Sorry, Wednesda…Wednesday? Where’d you go?’ He questioned confusingly. I paced forward, exiting the storage cupboard.

‘Sorry about that’ Tyler chimed as he returned to the front of the counter. ‘Here’ he said, reaching across the counter, taking the rice milk from my hand. ‘I'll make you your usual yeah?’ He said a delighted smile on his face. I simply nodded. Truth be told…I hate rice milk.

The final ding of the bell as the last customer exited the cafe was the sweetest music to my ears. Tyler quickly jogging across the room to lock the door before anyone attempted to get a last minute caffeine fix. The sun had set, and the dim streetlights illuminated the main square as shopkeepers closed up for the day. Tyler and I looked around the room, glaring at empty cups, spilt liquids, empty juice bottles and plates with crumbled remnants. I looked at Tyler, pursing my lips, shrugging my shoulders, as he returned the same gesture back. There was a lot to clean, and this was only in front of house. Without hesitating, Tyler walked along the windows, shutting each blind as he went, ready to begin the annual evening tidy-up festivities.

Mop in hand, Tyler danced around the room, tapping his feet to the beat of the rhythm of the music. With my dirty dishcloth in hand, I laboured over the grubby table, cleaning until there was a reflective shine. ‘You know’ he said from behind ‘It’s not really a tidy-up dance party if I’m the only one dancing’ he said. I shrugged my shoulders, focus still on the table ‘I’m not much of a dancer’ I whispered back. A splash emitted, and the squeaky wheel of the mop bucket screeched as Tyler kicked the bucket across the room. I could see it roll out of my peripheral vision, giggling as it smacked against the wall. ‘I don’t think Mr Weathervane would like you doing that’ I sighed. ‘Mr Weathervane is never here, besides you and I are the only people practically keeping this place going’ he said, dramatically placing his hands on the sides of his hips. ‘C’mon Y/N…just one dance’ he begged. I turned around to find Tyler standing a few feet away from me, his hand extended out in invitation, one eyebrow lifted as if to say I dare you. ‘My hands are grubby Tyler, honestly…and I’m no good’ I pleaded. But Tyler stood, his hand still extended, shaking his head. ‘You work hard, you never accept my rides home, we spend every weekend together, just have some fun with me for once Y/N’ he gleaned. I lowered my gaze to the ground in defeat, but the smile on my face was evident. I defeatedly threw the rag onto the table, gently reaching out, placing my much smaller hand in the grasp of his palm.

I could feel my feet fall from underneath my balance as Tyler thrust his arm back to his side, throwing me from one side of the room to the other, his hand still tightly gripped around mine. He laughed as I emitted a shy giggle, still keeping my gaze directed at my feet. ‘Spin’ he chuckled, lifting his arm, making room for me to dance under his arm, hands still intertwined. ‘Okay okay lets be serious’ he laughed, pulling me closer, wrapping an arm around my waist, whilst holding my hand outstretched to the side. Instinctively, I gently placed my free arm on his shoulder, swaying to the beat of the music. ‘Serious now, I need the practice’ he said sternly. I looked up from the floor to catch his gaze, a puzzled look on my face. ‘Practice for what?’ I questioned. ‘I got a note’ he said, pulling away and reaching into his pocket. ‘Wednesday asked me to go to the Rave’N dance at Nevermore next weekend, how cool is that?’ He expressed, a smile on his face, clear joy in his voice. I could feel my heart crack in two, lowering my gaze to the floor. I simply nodded, whispering back ‘real cool’.

*Knock Knock Knock*

My body jumped at the sudden interruption, but at the front door through the cracks of the blinds, Sheriff Galpin stood, gently illuminated by the yellow hue of the streetlights. ‘Tyler, open up buddy’ he shouted. Tyler, looking somewhat defeated, walked to the door, unlocking it, letting his father inside. ‘You almost done? We had a few beers down at the station so I need a ride’ he said, a slight slur in his voice, but his body was still stiff and sharp as ever. ‘Ah sure Dad, we’re almost done’ he said, pointing in my direction to show the sheriff he wasn’t alone. The Sheriff simply nodded in my direction, probably the friendliest encounter one could have with Sheriff Galpin. Tyler hurriedly put the mop and bucket back in the supply closet, taking one last look around the cafe, slightly flustered at the intrusion, but still making sure everything was done for the evening. ‘Uh…sorry…yup I think that’s everything’ he said, walking to the coat rack, grabbing his signature brown jacket. ‘You need a ride?’ He asked concerned. I shook my head, we’d been through this routine so many times, he knew I was likely going to reject it anyway. ‘Ya sure kid?’ The Sheriff asked concerned. ‘These Nevermore freaks have been causing a lot of trouble recently, don’t want to wake up to yet another missing person’ he said. You would think it would feel like a punch to the stomach, being reduced to ‘Nevermore freaks’ but it was so common from normies in Jericho. ‘No thank you, Sheriff, my fathers car is parked out back’ I lied. He nodded, turning around and walking out the door, followed by Tyler.

Stepping through the Nevermore gates, a wave of enchantment washed over me. My Y/C hair turned back to its signature icy blonde, the flesh of my Y/C skin suddenly scarred with those distinctive dark indigo slashes. I was now confined to being Y/N Weems again, instead of Y/N the Weathervane Cafe worker. I ducked behind the trees, quickly taking off my signature Weathervane apron, and stuffing it into my rucksack in order to conceal the one private thing in my life. As I returned to the stone path, there stood the girl with those oh-so-familiar long plaits. A stern look on her face as she faced the gate, her head turned in my direction. ‘I’ll keep quiet if you do’ she solemnly spoke. With a simple nod, Wednesday seemed sufficed, and continued her stalk forward, leaving the Nevermore gates.

Walking up the winding wooden stairs on the east wing of the castle, I could hear students in their dormitories. Music blasting, arguing, chatting, frustrated sighs as students panicked over their last minute homework they ignored over the weekend. Everyone had a roomie, but luckily, the benefits of being the ‘Weems weirdo’ meant that nobody wanted to room with me, therefore I didn’t have to share my personal space. Singular rooms were not ideal, in fact, they were highly discouraged, but even in my case, no teacher could force stroppy teenagers to befriend someone.

‘Principal Weems is their aunt, they’re a snitch’ ‘They’re the child of Calypso and Lilith Weems, don’t room with them or you’ll find all your things go missing’ ‘One of the only recorded Siren attacks ever, I wouldn’t go near them with a ten foot pole’ ‘They’re own aunt won’t even allow them to cover those hideous scars’. Even before I moved to Nevermore, everyone had already made up their mind about me. Being the child of criminals, everyone was quick to point towards me whenever any of their crap went missing. If the Principal ever found out something about anyone, all fingers pointed to me. Truth be told, I’d never stolen anything in my life…and I was too isolated to know anything about anyone.

I unlocked the outrageously large wooden door, opening to see the moonlight streaming in through the glass-stained window. The moonlight shone through the window, shining beautiful colours across the hardwood floor. My room, my sanctuary. It was isolated, and too far enough up the stairs for anyone to be bothered to come up here…most people probably didn’t know this room existed. I opened the window, looking across the quad, taking in the cool air. Some students snuck around the quad, sneaking off for late night dates probably. I looked across the turrets to see the large circular spiderweb window, half rainbow, the other plain. A dismembered hand sat in the corner of the window, wiggling its fingers as if to say hello. I waved back. A self-controlled dismembered hand would alarm the masses, but you soon learn to expect the unexpected at Nevermore Academy.

I stood at the end of the bed, freely letting loose as I flopped down onto the lumpy mattress. Exhausted, defeated, and disappointed. I grabbed my pillow, bringing it to my face, letting out a loud scream in an attempt to blow my fuse, and let off some steam. A magical moment turned to rejection at the announcement of Tyler Galpin excitedly attending the dance with Wednesday Addams.

*Click Clack Click Clack*

The familiar rhythm of high-heeled shoes, elegantly sweeping down the hall drew my attention immediately. Aunt Larissa was the living epitome of what it meant to be a Weems. She was beautiful, elegant, dedicated, dignified, independent, strong…the list goes on. Even the sound of her heels hitting the wooden floorboards sounded beautiful. Her gentle knock at the door was just as strong, yet graceful as she. ‘Commme innn’ I groaned through a muffled voice, as I didn’t have the energy to emerge from the suffocation of the pillow. ‘Hello Petal’ she chimed, gracefully stepping into the room. As a principal, she was tough but fair, as an Aunt, she was extremely caring. I groaned back in greeting. ‘I was thinking, darling, that you and I could take a trip into Jericho after class sometime this week…find you something special for the Rave’N?’ She questioned, a hopeful tone in her voice. I simply shook my head, still face down in the pillow. Her shoes clacked and clicked as she strode across my bedroom, the edge of the mattress gently dipping as she took a seat, comfortingly rubbing her perfectly manicured hands along my back.

‘I’m worried about you Petal’ she said with a sigh. She was always worried about something. ‘You haven’t made any friends or companions, you refuse to join any extra-curricular activity, you fail to participate in school events, my dear brother constantly calls to ask why his child hasn’t sent as much as a letter’. She said that last point disparagingly. We both knew I had no desire to engage with my parents, all they wanted to know if my will was broken enough for me to go home and become their apprentice criminal. Aunt Larissa was very happy to be my primary guardian at this point in time. I turned my head to the side, allowing my face to emerge from hiding. ‘You know half of that isn’t my fault Aunt Larissa’ I mumbled in defeat. ‘It’s one thing being the child of well-sought criminals, it’s another to be the relative of my school’s principal, and this…well this is just hideous’ I vented, pointing to the scars on my face. ‘You’re beautiful Petal…inside and out’ she spoke, reassuringly rubbing her hand up and down my back in such a motherly comforting way. ‘Why don’t you invite that boy from the cafe?’ She said, raising her eyebrows up and down in a suggestive ‘I know you like him’ way. ‘I see the way you look at him, how he treats you kindly, he might be a normie, but you know normies are welcome at the Rave’N’ she spoke.

‘We both know I can’t invite him without having to unfold a lot of secrets Aunt Larissa’ I said. She simply took a deep breath, knowing this was true. She never encouraged me to hide my true nature, nor did she want me to, but she respected by wishes to be so’. ‘Besides…he’s going with Wednesday Addams’ I groaned, stuffing my face into the pillow once again in a desperate attempt to hide my embarrassment. The mattress dipped as she leaned down, shifting her weight to place a gentle loving kiss on the top of my head. ‘Why don’t we just go and have a look at some shops this week? We don’t have to buy anything, you don’t even have to commit to going to the dance, we’ll just have a look alright Petal?’ She spoke, an undertone of pleading in her voice. I turned my head to the side, my body following so that I was now lying face up on the bed instead of down. I looked directly at her for the first time since she came into the room. I let out a defeated huff. ‘Fine’.

As the final bell of the day rung, I gathered my rucksack hastily, not even waiting for Miss Thornhill to dismiss everyone. All week I had managed to avoid Aunt Larissa in a desperate attempt to avoid the shopping trip I agreed to last weekend. Now being Friday, all I had to do was avoid her until tomorrow night…until the Rave’N dance was truly over.

I paced towards the door, quickly thrusting the door open, only to find Aunt Larissa standing outside the classroom. ‘Ah, there you are Petal’ she chimed, her bright red lips curving into a genuinely pleased smile. I could hear my classmates snigger as they walked past, some mockingly repeating the nickname I had cherished since childhood. Aunt Larissa reached into her blazer pocket, pulling out her white leather driving gloves perfectly catered to the curve of her fingers. She already had her silk headscarf wrapped around her head, protecting her perfectly groomed hair from the unpredictable Jericho weather. ‘Come on darling’ she chimed, already walking towards the front of the castle grounds, her heels perfectly clicking and clacking against the stone path. My feet, countered, dragging behind me as I followed her to the car.

For a Friday afternoon, Jericho’s central main square was relatively quiet. Usually, Friday afternoons saw the town’s streets littered with Nevermore students as they basked in the privilege of freedom, being allowed to leave Nevermore’s gates. But with the dance one night away, most of Nevermore academy had already torn through the streets, had bought their outfits, and stayed at Nevermore, already beginning to pamper themselves for the festivities ahead.

The shops at Jericho were nothing short of eccentric…and that was putting it nicely. Due to the deserted state of the town, I didn’t bother to hide the scars on my face. Everything at Uriah’s was too old, Hawte Kewture was too…everything. I was sort of relieved in a way, if we couldn’t find anything then there was no reason to force me into going to the dance. As we exited Uriah’s I hastily made my way to the car, assuming that there would be nothing more. ‘Ah ah ah’ Aunt Larissa tutted. ‘There’s still one more location I’d like to visit’ she said, turning the direction away from the car, lifting her hand up by her face and flexing her finger in a ‘follow me’ motion. I rolled my eyes, displeased at the thought of going to yet another store.

Opehlia’s Boutique stood tucked away at the back of Jericho’s main street. A bright daffodil yellow in colour, it was surprisingly bright compared to the rest of Jericho…even compared to the exterior of Hawte Kewture. I had lived in Jericho for years, and never had I known this place existed. I followed Aunt Larissa in, the doorbell chiming as we entered the shop. From behind the counter, a middle-aged woman stood, with big eyes, pale skin, and a flower crown adorned across her head. ‘May I assist you?’ She asked sweetly. ‘We’re looking for something for a school dance tomorrow night…preferably to fit our white colour scheme’ Aunt Larissa chimed. The ladies eyes bulged out of her head, doubling in size at the excitement of the challenge Aunt Larissa had posed to her. This lady probably didn’t get much foot traffic coming her way, based on how stacked her racks and shelves were of garments. ‘Well I have a few pieces in mind off the top of my head’ she spoke, almost prancing across the room. The racks were adorned with silks, tulle, gingham, paisley, glitter, sequins, any fabric you could think of and any pattern. I stood, watching her talk to herself as she slung garments over her forearm whilst Aunt Larissa perused the accessories on display. ‘Follow me’ she said, she had to stand on her tippy toes to look over the pile of white garments she had gathered. I followed her to the back of the store, she hooked the garments onto a rack behind a curtain, herding me into the changing room. ‘Fashion show!’ She squealed from the other side, clapping her hands in excitement.

It was as though I had tried every white piece of clothing on this flowery lady had to offer. Everything was either too tight, too see-through, too long, too short, or didn’t fit quite right. I defeatedly flopped into the feature chair across from Aunt Larissa, as she patiently sat, a look of disappointment on her face also. ‘Aunt Larissa, I know you mean well, but dances are for people who have friends, or are looking for that special someone…for happy people that people are happy to be around…dance’s aren't for people like me’ I sighed. She leant forward in her seat, her ankles elegantly tucked behind the other as she leant forward, lovingly placing her hand on my knee as I averted my gaze to her perfectly manicured red fingernails. ‘A dress isn’t everything Petal’ she said, desperately trying to comfort me after my grim confession.

*Squeeel* My legs jumped in shock at the sudden sound, knocking Aunt Larissa’s hand off my knee as she brought her hand to her chest to steady the shock she also got. ‘I forgot!’ The woman chimed, skipping across the store to a door marked ‘staff only’. We looked at each other, a relieved sigh followed by a quiet giggle as the woman sang, clapped and squealed in excitement behind the door. She ran back out, slamming the door behind her, a fabric dress bag in hand, concealing the contents within. ‘This’ she said, steadying herself in place at the pure joy in her voice. ‘This is a very very special piece in my collection’ she exclaimed, taking a deep breath in to continue her excited speech. ‘This is a one-of-a-kind, designed by yours truly’ she bragged, taking a short curtsey as if she were on stage in front of a crowd of thousands. My eyebrows knitted together, as did Aunt Larissas. Based on the flower crown that adorned her head, the flowing bright yellow sundress covered in white daisies with hairy wig boots that clashed…it was clear both of us were not entirely sure the contents of the bag were going to be…agreeable. ‘Come, come, come’ she said, prancing over, intertwining her hand with mine, and pulling me back to the changing room. ‘Last one dear, I promise’ she said giggling away, swooshing the curtain closed.

I dipped up the back, turning around, pulling the curtain back to show the final piece. I kept my head down in embarrassment, there was no mirror in the changing room, so I had no idea what the dress looked like. Slowly rounding the corner, I was met with silence. I looked up, unsure if there was anyone in the room. But there they stood, Aunt Larissa with her jaw almost on the floor, the shop woman biting her lip so tight as she bounced up and down concealing her screams. Was it that terrible? Oh god. I shrugged my shoulders in defeat ‘Well we tried’ I said, turning around to take the dress off and call it a day. ‘Oh Honey’ the shop woman exclaimed, a growl almost in her voice. ‘There is no way in HELL that you are not going to that dance with that dress’. I turned around in disbelief, I looked to Aunt Larissa, instead of her previously shocked expression, a prideful smile on her face as her eyes gleamed.

I turned around, and walked to the mirror, finally taking in my reflection. The dress was white, tea length with just a touch of tulle in the underskirt to give the skirt a nice lift so that it didn’t just sit straight down. The tulle gave the skirt volume, and a soft flow to the movement of the skirt. The white fabric fit perfectly, hugging the curves of my waist, the off-the-shoulder neckline just showing a touch of bust without being too inappropriate. Lace white sleeves elegantly hugged my arms, a finger loop giving an effortless timeless triangular fit as the lace sat comfortably upon my skin. Upon the dress, small rose gold crystal flowers embellished the dress, giving it a gentle sparkle. For once, looking at my primary state reflection, my eyes didn’t immediately gravitate to the indigo scars on my face, but to the utter perfection of this beautiful dress. Like Aunt Larissa, my jaw dropped slightly at the shock of the reflection. Aunt Larissa came up behind me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. She let out a sniffle as we both admired my reflection in the mirror. ‘You look exceptionally beautiful my darling’ she whispered, prepping kisses to my temple again.

The shop lady and Aunt Larissa retreated back to the counter, excitedly exchanging pleasantries as my Aunt lovingly paid for the dress. I stood there, still in front of that mirror, holding the skirt to the side, swaying from side to side as I admired my reflection in the mirror. But still, I couldn’t help but stare at the scarring on my face…the dress was beautiful, I felt beautiful, but these scars still came to the forefront of my mind. It was more for curiosity, rather than grief or vanity. I just wanted to feel beautiful as a normie. With their backs turned, and me hid by the front of the store with a rack of clothing to block my frame, I shifted. My icy blonde hair turned to Y/C, my eyes changed to Y/C. The scars were no longer there, I had never felt so beautiful.

I barely took notice of the front door chiming as the door to the store opened behind me. I just stood staring in the mirror. ‘Y/N?’ A deep, yet comforting and kind voice questioned. I aimlessly spun around, only to gasp at the sight of Tyler Galpin staring right back at me, equally as shocked. I could feel my eyes bulging out of my head as I stared in shock, still like a statue. ‘H..hi’ I managed, the volume just above a whisper. ‘Hi,’ he said chuckling, taking in my appearance. ‘Wow Y/N you…you look beautiful’ he said, still raking his eyes up and down my body. ‘Are..are you going to the Rave’N?’ He asked, clearly noting the white theme of the dress. I could feel myself stuttering ‘uu..uh n..n..n…no’ I responded. He nodded, not quite convinced by my answer. ‘So what’s the occasion?’ He asked with genuine interest, still taking in my appearance. ‘J…just trying things on?’ I said, unconvinced. ‘What are you doing here?’ I quickly prompted, turning the conversation around, directing the attention back on him. ‘Oh I’m just picking up a white suit jacket Ophelia set aside for me when I came in earlier on my lunch break, it’s for the Rave’N’ he admitted bashfully. ‘Well you do look stunning Y/N, really, it looks good on you’ he continued complimenting. ‘Yeah…I uh…I just came in looking for some items for winter and just saw this and thought…why not?’ I blubbered. ‘Why not indeed’ he said, smirking. ‘Well it’s a shame you’re not going to the Rave’N, you would be the belle of the ball in that dress’ he said, with genuine truth. I could feel my cheeks heating up as a blush adorned my cheeks. ’T..thanks Tyler’.

‘Right Y/N shall we go?’ Aunt Larissa spoke, rounding the corner with the receipt in hand. The spark of panic between us was clear as she saw Tyler standing in front of me, and me obviously not looking like the me I was before. Tyler curiously looked between us. ‘Principal Weems of Nevermore?’ He questioned, his fingers darting between us, desperately trying to make a connection between us. To him, I was the lonely normie who lived on the other side of town, homeschooled in the middle of deserted farmland, whilst Larissa Weems was the accomplished, notable principal of Nevermore academy, the caregiver for all teenage outcasts. ‘How do you guys know each other?’ He asked, very much confused. I could feel my chest rising and falling dramatically as I desperately tried to think of something. But Aunt Larissa, being the true picture of grace and elegance took charge. ‘I hope you don’t mind, I saw Y/N at the coffee shop, and seeing her work ethic I was impressed. I’m currently seeking employees at the school to help organise our files, records and such. Y/N is always very organised, so when I saw her walk in I thought it might be a good opportunity to strike up a conversation’ she eloquently spoke. Not a shred of doubt, or a hint of deception or second thought in her voice. Tyler nodded, looking curiously back at me, waiting for me to reaffirm the fabled story. ‘Right…a…and I was going to go with Principal Weems to the Weathervane…just for a chat about the role’ I spoke, adding to the story. ‘So you’re looking for another job?’ He asked a slight sound of disappointment in his voice. ‘I..I..I…’ you idiot Y/N stop bloody stuttering. Aunt Larissa’s gloved hand raised elegantly ‘I have assured Y/N I have no intent to poach her from the cafe, simply just to offer her an opportunity if she’s interested’ she explained, again elegant and poised. I just nodded. ‘My goodness Petal that dress looks most agreeable on you’ she said with a smile, adding to the play that she had simply followed me into the store and she wasn’t my Aunt that just bought me a dress for the Rave’N.

‘Well Y/N I’ll head over to the cafe now, if you’ll meet me there after you’ve finished your shopping’ she said, reaching her hand out to shake mine. Aunt Larissa exited the store, turning down the road, out of sight. I looked back at Tyler with a bashful smile, raising my shoulders. ‘Well…I suppose I better…’ I said, gesturing to the changing room. ‘Yes…of course, I’ll see you at work on Sunday’ he said with a smile. I quickly retreated back to the privacy of the changing room. Shit. I only had my uniform on me. I poked my head out to find Tyler busying himself with Ophelia as she held up button-down shirts to match. I turned around, shifting back to my primary state, changing into my uniform, desperately shoving the dress as carefully as I could into my rucksack so as to not get caught. I poked my head around the corner to see Tyler still busy with Ophelia. Without hesitation, I dashed to the door, down the road, and to the car.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Saturday evening rolled around too fast. Nevermore had been bustling today as students ran between dormitories, asking to borrow this or that, prepping together, music playing while heavy feet slammed behind the doors. No doubt practising their dance moves.

I sat on the edge of my bed, running my fingers over the multi-print quilted duvet, anxiously picking at the stitches that held the blanket together. Across the small room, Ophelia’s dress hung on the hanger. It almost felt like imposter syndrome, that such a beautiful dress was crafted just for me. One of a kind. A dress of such beauty belonged to someone like Bianca. Not someone like me. If it weren’t for Aunt Larissa, I’d probably skip the dance altogether. What was the point of going to a stupid dance where everyone hated you, and gave one a first row seat to have their heart broken right in front of them? However, there was something about this dress, the way it made me feel…the possibility of being seen as something different.

I got up from the bed, pacing back and forth, debating between possibility or guaranteed safety. See, if I stayed in bed, read a book or something then it would be guaranteed safety. No judgement, no dealing with people, no Wednesday, no Tyler. But the prospect of possibility…the chance to branch out of this lonely existence, to see Tyler in his white suit. There was no definitive choice, both had their pros and cons.

My pacing marathon was interrupted by a knock on the door. Probably Aunt Larissa…the sun had gone down, and the music from below in the grand hall could be felt thumping away up to my attic room. I reluctantly opened the door to find nobody there. I peeked my head out, looking down the hall, but still, there was nobody to be seen. I went to close the door, only to feel a gentle tap at the very bottom of the doorframe. I slightly gasped, shocked at the image in front of me. For it wasn’t a person, nor an animal or creature, not even a measly door mouse. Instead, a hand scuttled into the room, climbing onto the bookshelf to align with the height on my face.

‘Hello?’ I asked questioningly. The hand didn’t speak…I mean it was a hand. But it was moving around on its own…sort of as if it were its own being. The hand propped up on its dismembered wrist, wiggling its fingers in greeting. The thing adamantly pointed to the dress hanging onto the wardrobe door. I turned around, staring in slight disbelief at the dress before turning back to the hand, that was now propped on its palm, rhythmically tapping its fingers on the surface of the shelf. Conveying the obvious; ‘I’m waiting’.

I stood in front of the mirror staring at my reflection, still unconvinced at the thought of going to the Rave’N. From the corner, I could hear the thing rattling through my jewellery box, scuttling over on its fingers, placing earrings at my feet before scuttling back to the vanity. I reluctantly put the earrings in, surprised to admit that the rose gold earrings complimented the garment. I huffed at my appearance, staring in the mirror. I could still enjoy the dress, didn’t mean I had to leave the room right? I could just enjoy dressing up in the comfort of my room. As I stood contemplating, the thing scuttled over again, this time with something that did not belong to me. I bent down, taking the tube from its hand. ‘This is Aunt Larissa’s signature lipstick, where did you get this?’ I asked. It simply wiggled its fingers. ‘Five-finger discount’ I sighed. I reluctantly smeared the lipstick upon my lips, being sure to make an arched cupids bow for a more timeless look. With my hair neatly curled, the red lip, and the high heels, I definitely looked the part of a Weems.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

I reluctantly strode down the spiral staircase towards the thumping of the music. The halls were empty as everyone was likely already at the dance. I didn’t have to go…there was still time to opt-out. But as curiosity killed the cat, so too was my fate as a familiar tall figure walked further down the stairs, Wednesday, in her Wednesday fashion, a black garment to stand out amongst the crowd.

The pair stood in the corridor, Eugene conversing with them, Eugene looking as though he were dressed to go camping and not the the Rave’N. I stood around the corner, watching the flashing lights of the dance as they gleamed out into the corridor. Tyler stood there, in a white suit with a blue button-up, looking irresistibly handsome. I clutched my hand to my dress, trying to stay hidden around the corner. The trio looked as though they were conflicted. Wednesday, whilst she looked undeniably beautiful, there was a tenseness to her stature. Her body language was stoic as if to say ‘I don’t want to be here’. I could sympathise with her there, but having someone like Tyler Galpin on her arm, it was heart-shattering.

I could feel the tears brimming in my sockets, letting out a small sniffle to try and suck whatever liquids back in. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I turned around, only to find Miss Thornhill standing behind me. ‘I hope you’re not going back to your room?’ She asked in a friendly concerned tone. ‘Yeah I don’t think this is for me’ I said, trying to round her to head back to the main stairwell. ‘Y/N at least come in for one song, just so your aunt can see how beautiful you look’ she said, smiling like a Cheshire cat. I ducked my head around the corner, looking inside to see my aunt looking slightly agitated as she anxiously waited by the door. ‘Come on’ Miss Thornhill said in a chipper manner. I reluctantly followed her, almost forgetting the presence of Tyler and Wednesday.

Tyler’s gaze locked on mine as I walked by. I could feel my palms sweating, trying to ignore the confused look on his face. As far as he was concerned, I was just some random with a scratched face. Even Tyler couldn’t help but stare at the mess that was my face. He ducked down, whispering to Wednesday, her gaze also locking onto mine. ‘Y/N’ she called.

Shit

I walked over to the pair, eyes averted to the floor, taking in the skirt of Wednesday’s dress. ‘You look very nice Wednesday’ I whispered. Her face stayed neutral, a typical Wednesday response. ‘This is Tyler Galpin’ she said, gesturing to the familiar stranger I was so familiar with. I looked up slowly, my chest rising and falling. It was ridiculous really, there was nothing to prove that the scar-faced Weems weirdo was the same as the quiet cafe girl. She didn’t have icy blonde hair or indigo scars on her face. Tyler extended his hand cautiously, I gently clasped his sweaty palm in mine, giving a quick shake. ‘I’m sorry to stare, I just, I swear I saw someone I know wearing the same thing yesterday’ he questioned, his eyes raking up and down my body. Crap. It didn’t even occur to me that he would recognise the dress. ‘Tyler, this is Y/N Weems’ she said. Tyler again, a puzzled look on his face. ’T..this is really strange, my friend who I saw yesterday wearing something similar…name is the same…’ he spoke. It was clear the interaction with Tyler was spooking him. He seemed so unsure of himself, something I wasn’t used to seeing on shift at the Weathervane. I could feel butterflies in my stomach, both at the prospect that I was mere details away from being caught, and that Tyler considered me his friend. Tyler stood, looking somewhat starstruck at the coincidence of all these mere details. The puzzled look on his face indicating he was trying so desperately to remember his interaction with my other half yesterday. ‘It’s a very beautiful dress’ he said politely, but his voice still exacerbated.

The more his gaze locked onto mine, the more confused he became. His eyebrows scrunching together, his eyes squinting, gathering every detail he could while Wednesday finished her conversation with Eugene. ‘Well it was nice meeting you’ I said, walking toward the grand hall. Suddenly a grip on my forearm stopped before I could take a step back. Those slender strong fingers gripped tightly, making the skin go white underneath his grip. I trailed my gaze up his arm, locking eyes to find he hadn’t taken his eyes off of my body. ‘Sorry’ he said, unclasping his grip taking a step back, forcing his hands back into his pockets, shocked at the action himself. I just nodded, opting to go into the midst of the dance to escape the curious eye of Tyler Galpin.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

*BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP*

The feral taste of my own morning breath gave me just as much a shock as the bleeping alarm rings. The crusty feeling of dried saliva crumped on my cheek. My thighs slightly itched as tulle rubbed against my skin. That was my own fault for not taking the dress off when I came back. Luckily the thing had left, so I didn’t have to endure sass from a self-mobile hand as I came back from the dance well before it ended.

For the first time since I arrived at Nevermore, I received some kindness. A few compliments from classmates, but mostly just a few admiring stares. One girl even had to snap her fingers to regain her date’s attention. But as the night went on, I couldn’t escape the subtle glances from Tyler Galpin, between his attempts to keep up with Wednesday’s…exotic dance moves, and suspiciously eyeing the strange girl, with the same name, in the same dress as his normie friend. Staying was all too risky. I could feel the burning trail of his eyes as I left the dance, all whilst Wednesday danced her boots off.

Rolling out of bed, I carefully inspected the dress in the mirror. I decided that I would leave the dress on the hanger to let it air out, maybe I could get Aunt Larissa her money back…

Luckily being an early riser had its perks. 6:45 am on a Sunday, especially after the Rave’N dance meant that every person on campus, including teachers, was having a well-needed sleep-in. I could leave Nevermore’s gates without being detected, or questioned as to where I was going. Putting my apron on, I bundled up with a puffer jacket and a fluffy beanie to combat the Jericho winter cold snap. The sun had gently risen, a beautiful light blanket of snow draped over the ground, with soft snowfall adding to the crispness of winter air. Exiting the Nevermore gate, a wave of relief washed over me as my Y/C hair brushed down the back of my neck, a glinting feeling in my eyes as they changed to Y/C, and the dreaded scars disappeared as if they never existed.

The walk to work, especially in weather like this, was a pleasant one. Most people hated this weather, but it was a comfort to me. It was the weather like this where people all of a sudden didn’t criticise one another for wanting to spend time alone, tucked up in cozy spaces. It was the time for introverts.

Walking down the main street, the gentle yellow glow of lights shone through glazed-over shop windows. People often forget to admire the beauty of the little businesses, but Sundays gave these shops time to shine. The Weathervane cafe’s blinds were still drawn, but a yellow hue emitted little streaks of light onto the snow-laden ground.

Unlocking the door, a satisfying wave of heat penetrated my senses, causing my cold body to endure the uncomfortable wash of pins and needles. ‘Morning Miss Joan’ I called out. ‘Actually, it’s me Y/N’ Tyler’s voice called from the backroom. Shit. I was counting on the hope that Miss Joan would be working today instead of Tyler, as he had mentioned in passing taking his normal Sunday shift off this particular day. I was hoping that a break in seeing him would be enough to make him forget about the small curious details he encountered last night with the Weems girl. Instead of responding, I went straight for the kitchenette, hoping to avoid Tyler until the morning day’s shift began. ‘I made you a coffee already Y/N’ he called again from the back room. I popped my head out of the kitchenette to see a steaming frothy brew sitting neatly next to the coffee machine. I quietly tip-toed over to the steaming mug, hoping to avoid alerting Tyler of my movements. I brought the steaming cup to my lips, only to practically gag as the liquid touched my tongue. I knew that stupid rice milk lie would catch up to me…

As Tyler spent the morning busying himself in the back room, I turned the closed sign to open. The streets of Jericho however were desolate of life. Usually, on Sunday mornings, the Weathervane was a hub for rest and relaxation. A place of respite and solitude as Jericho’s residents treated themselves to coffee and pastries. Especially on cooler days like this, there would usually be someone waiting at the door. But as the snowfall continued outside, the streets remained empty.

I sat behind the counter, my attention focused on one of the books from the bookcases in the cafe, all about Jericho’s certainly strange history. I barely acknowledged the sound of Tyler pulling up his stool next to mine, focused on the book in hand. It was only when half a blueberry muffin was presented in front of me that I realised in the hour we had been open, this was the first time I had laid eyes on Tyler all morning. ‘Thanks’ I chuckled, biting into the warm fluffy cake as Tyler ate his half. I knew it was risky, but I knew it would be even more obvious if I didn’t ask. ‘So…how was your date?’ I asked cautiously. Tyler chuckled, crumbs dusted upon his pink lips. ‘It was the Rave’N Y/N, it wasn’t a date’ he said fleetingly. ‘But it was fun…I did feel a bit out of place though’ he said with a gentle smile. Oh Tyler, if only you knew how much I related to your predicament on a personal level. ‘I thought you went with Wednesday Addams?’ I questioned gently, intrigued by his comment that the Rave’N was in fact not a date. ‘Just because we went together doesn’t mean it was a date’ he said with a soft chuckle, elbowing my arm in a playful manner. I chuckled to myself, more so at the touch rather than what he actually said. ‘Hey, how did your interview with Miss Weems go?’ He asked seriously, ‘I hope you’re not ditching me’ he said with a lack of enthusiasm. ‘Ohh, ya know, I talked to my parents but they said they didn’t want me hanging out at the freak school so I turned it down’. Tyler’s gaze locked on mine, his eyes squinted together. ‘Damn Y/N I didn’t think you were as prejudiced as everyone else in this shit town’ he said displeasingly, a slight scoff at the end of his sentence as he shook his head. Felt my stomach drop, I had never made Tyler react to something I said. ‘Ooo..oh don’t get me wrong, sh..she was very nice….my parents just don’t want me going there’ I stuttered. ‘You know what parents are like’ I dragged on. Tyler simply nodded, seeing the way he and his Dad interacted with one another, I knew Tyler would understand what that meant, to have overbearing parents. Something I certainly didn’t envy him for.

We sat there, behind the counter in the empty cafe, nattering on about the Rave’N dance, how Wednesday surprisingly ruled the dance floor, her signature black dress as it stood out amongst the white dressed cloud, the ice cold drinks that looked more like a science experiment rather than a beverage. It was almost comforting to listen to a normie admire Nevermore for what it was, not the criminal rehab for uncontrollable freaks and beings that most normies perceived. I began to relax in his presence, hoping he had forgotten about his interaction with my other half as he continued to gleam about his evening with Wednesday. For once, I was actually happily listening to him go on about her.

‘Hey, remember that dress you were trying on at Ophelia’s the other day?’ He questioned amusingly. I nodded, averting my gaze to look out onto the streets of Jericho. ‘Well, I met one of Wednesday’s school friends wearing the exact same one’ he chuckled. ‘Oh yeah…no it wasn’t me, I just wanted to try it on for fun really, the shopkeeper practically insisted’ I said, waving my hand to the side as if to brush off the whole event. ‘Well for the record, you looked stunning either way’ he said with genuine earnestness. What did he mean either way? ‘So what did you get up to last night then?’ He questioned intriguingly. ‘Oh, the usual’ I bleakly responded. Tyler simply nodded, his gaze still on me.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

The day carried on, the snow continuing to fall, as we continued to turn the thermostat up. The only customers that really visited the Weathervane today were other shop owners as they came in for hot drinks and freshly baked pastries, only to return to their shops. For the most part, the Weathervane was empty.

While Tyler had insisted, his night at the Rave’N was not a date, it was hard to listen to him talk about her all day. Her outrageous dancing, her strange adventures, her constant visits to the police station, his Dad’s frustrations with her. There was no doubt, Wednesday had certainly taken Jericho by storm. But she certainly seemed to have ingrained herself into Tyler’s heart. I could feel little swords to my heart each time he said the word Wednesday. But who could blame him? Everyone at school seemed to like Wednesday, even though she wasn’t chatty or particularly sociable, she had an unnerving self-assuredness, she was pretty in her own way, and she didn’t care what other people thought of her. Wednesday Addams quite simply possessed the qualities that everyone wishes they had. Instead, we were all wrapped up in what other people did, said or made of us. When you were the isolated weirdo of the school, it was particularly hard to ignore when everyone was so intent on making sure you knew what they thought of you.

‘STOP!’ I yelled. I could feel my voice hitch in my throat, the absolute shock that emitted from my body just as powerfully hit Tyler as he dropped the ceramic cup, smashing to the ground. My stomach was doing summersaults, my face burning as I had so violently brought my hands to cover my mouth in utter shock. ‘Y/N’ Tyler exclaimed, shocked and angry in his voice. ‘I….I..I’m so sorry’ I whispered, tears brimming at the surface, glazing my vision. Tyler stood frozen, his hands still clasped as if he were holding the cup in his hand still. I simply got up from my stool, rushing to the backroom, locking myself in the employee bathroom. I sat on the toilet seat lid, rocking back and forth, clutching onto myself, arms crossed over my chest. ‘Stupid, Stupid Stupid’ I cursed to myself. I gently knocked my head against the thin bathroom wall, trying to knock some sense into myself. I had never spoken to Tyler like that, I had never so blatantly yelled at anyone ever in such a demeaning tone. It just slipped out…all he did was talk about the Rave’N and Wednesday, and I couldn’t listen to it for another second. The way his eyes lit up, his constant smile, the continuous humming of tunes from the dance. All it caused was hurt, my soul slowly shattering piece by piece. She wasn’t even nice to him half the time! Why couldn’t someone look at me that way…not just Tyler, anyone! That stupid school, that stupid dance, those stupid students, and most of all stupid Tyler and Wednesday. I just so desperately wanted to feel so accepted, so liked…so loved as Wednesday was.

I sat in the toilet, thoughts racing at a million miles an hour. But in all those thoughts, one thought stuck, standing out from all the rest. I couldn’t just go back out without explaining to Tyler why I had yelled and stormed off, not without admitting how much I cared for him. I couldn’t just leave, that would be worse and cause even more drama. But this thought wouldn’t go away, it went against everything I was taught, every value Nevermore had ingrained into me…one that would please my parents. The urge to act upon this impulsive thought almost gave me a headache, and so I will.

I stuck my head out the bathroom door, listening to the loud ringing of the vacuum cleaner as Tyler tidied up the mess I had caused. I gently slid out from the security of the bathroom, tip-toeing to the staff cooler, gently slipping out the back door, and onto the main street.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

This was so unethical. This was so incredibly wrong. This encompasses everything that makes the freaks and outcasts so hated by normies. Was it really so bad in the grand scheme of things? The outcast of the outcast doing something that defied morals of what it meant to be a respectable outcast? I stood outside the window, looking at my reflection. Long black braids that cascaded down my shoulders, clothes black as night, not allowing for a shred of colour to present itself. The infamous frown that made her so noticeable, not even a smirk or hint of a smile.

I walked along the outside of the Weathervane cafe building, the ground beneath me slightly slippery. I was determined to keep her frozen-like stature as I paced towards the front door of the cafe, not moving my arms, making sure to keep a little stomp in my walk. I tentatively reached for the door handle. Was I really going to do this? Before I could have any second thoughts, Tyler emerged from the storage cupboard, a smile on his face as he raised his hand in greeting. I swung the door open, probably a bit too forcefully, pacing into the warmth of the cafe. ‘Wednesday’ Tyler greeted. ‘Hello Tyler’ I greeted back in a dull manner, locking my eyes on his and she would when holding a conversation with anyone. ‘What brings you in today?’ He asked tentatively, already going toward the coffee machine to make her signature drink. ‘Just checking in, I’m glad you had fun last night’ I retorted. Tyler looked up cautiously. ‘If you knew I was having fun why did you keep asking what was wrong with me?’ Shit. I didn’t think this would backfire so quickly. Think Y/N Think. ‘Enlighten me then’ I almost demanded. Tyler looked a bit taken aback. Either he was still shaken up from before, or I was putting a little too much effort into this Wednesday performance. ‘Wednesday, I’m telling you, there is something up with that Weems’ he said, almost exasperated with having possibly repeated the same conversational matter as with the real Wednesday last night. ‘Part of me was just hoping it was them’ he said sullenly. My stomach fluttered as it simultaneously dropped. ‘It’s all just too spooky Wednesday’ he said, pouring the black golden liquid into the coffee cup, sliding it over. ‘Who?’ I asked curiously. Tyler locked his gaze, lifting his eyebrow as if to say ‘really?’. I lowered my gaze to the floor, averting the awkwardness of guessing around the situation. I walked to the booth, plonking myself down on the seat to avoid awkwardly standing there in front of Tyler.

He slowly walked over, bringing the coffee cup with him, placing it in front of me. He gingerly sat down from the seat across, staring at me. He took in all her features. Her long braids, piercing eyes, pale skin, bleak frown. He didn’t say anything, simply looked. ‘Aren’t you going to drink your espresso?’ He inquired. Even though the contents of the cup were tiny, only the brave with a taste for bitterness could endure the taste of espresso…only an Addams could tolerate the bitter brew quadrupled. I brought the steaming mug to my lips, the smell that wafted my senses nauseating enough. I took a small sip, Tyler watching intently. I tried to suppress the instinctual urge to screw up my face. I could feel a slight well of tears in my eyes. A cough escaped, burning my very tastebuds. ‘Everything okay?’ ‘Yup..*cough*…just a bit hot’ I retorted. Tyler smirked, his gaze still locked on my face. ��When has that ever stopped Wednesday Addams from knocking back a quad espresso?’ He questioned. I sat back against the booth, wishing the old leather fabric would just swallow me up into oblivion.

Tyler looked out the window, his eyebrows knotted together as he fixated on the snowy landscape outside. His mouth was slightly ajar. I sat still, trying to figure out a way to escape this whole situation. Tyler leaned back, his gaze shifting from the outside back to mine. He relaxed back into the booth.

‘Do you know what I like about you?’ I just stared back at him, trying to evoke the very essence of Wednesday. She wasn’t one to engage in guessing games or engage with anything that involved emotion or feeling. ‘You don’t expect me to be anyone else, you see me for me. I like to think I see you for you too, and with all this depressing town has to offer, it’s refreshing to just feel unapologetically accepted by someone. You don’t try to change me, or anyone else. I know you try to keep yourself to yourself, but the truth is, you don’t need to when you’re with me. You have no idea how incredibly happy it makes me when you relax, and if I’m the reason you always retreat back into yourself, then I’m sorry. But life in Jericho is so boring, and hanging out with you just feels like a peaceful respite amongst the screaming crowd.’ He reached across the booth, grasping his hands in mine. ‘And you really did look breathtaking in that dress’ he said, his thumb rubbing over my hands. I stared back in disbelief. Wednesday Addams was truly the luckiest person ever, to have someone like Tyler feel so admire her inner self. It was almost depressing, but I just wanted to stay in this moment, his warm hands wrapped around my small ones for a moment longer.

‘By the way’ he said, his mouth contorting into a cheeky smirk as he leaned forward in a whisper ‘Wednesday doesn’t usually make exceptions when it comes to letting people touch her’ finishing his sentence with a cheeky wink. I could feel my mouth slightly gaping as I almost choked. Tyler leaned to the side, diverting his attention to the front door, waving someone inside. The doorbell rang as I slowly sunk into the booth. ‘Nice look’. Shit. Wednesday paced across the floor, sitting down next to Tyler. ‘I don’t appreciate being mimicked Y/N, nor will I tolerate it’ she sternly said. There even seemed to be a tinge of red on her cheeks, evidence showing she was furious. I sat there, chest rising and falling deeply, panic brewing. ‘Switch Weems’ Wednesday demanded, her hand slamming against the surface of the table. My shoulders twitched at the shock, and so I melted back into the cafe girl. Tyler scoffed to himself, nodding to himself as he averted his gaze down to the table in front of him. ‘Tyler, as your friend, I must tell you I in no way corroborated this’. Tyler almost smirked to himself, with his head facing downward I couldn’t quite tell. ‘I know Wednesday’. She simply nodded, reached across the table, shooting the hot espresso, before standing and leaving.

‘Wednesday!’ I called, as the doorbell rang as she stood halfway out the door. ‘I’m really sorry’. She stared back, her face still as stringent as when she walked in. ‘Good’ she said, letting the door slam behind her as she disappeared down the main street.

‘Y/N Weems, I’ve met her before, but she certainly doesn’t look like you’ Tyler mumbled. There was no use lying anymore, I was utterly defeated. I ran my hands through my hair, letting the Y/N switch back to icy blonde. Tyler stared at the transformation as I tentatively met his gaze. I sat there, letting him stare at my primary form. ‘Something is still missing….about here’ he said softly, reaching across the table, running the backs of his fingers gently down my cheek. So I let the scars come forward too. ‘How long have you known?’ I whispered. ‘Well, I’ve long suspected you were hiding something. Every night when you claimed someone was picking you up instead of accepting a ride. Every night I sat in my car quietly, making sure you left work safely, watching you walk down the main street alone in the opposite direction. You never speak about school, friends, or family. I know you said you were homeschooled, but even then you seemed so unsure of yourself. Always checking your hair, or taking a sneaky look at yourself in the mirror, making sure everything was in check. But most of all, you always had this kindness to you, something only possessed by those who have experienced true hardships. Most people in Jericho can’t bite their tongues when they saw a Nevermore student, or were quick to blame Nevermore whenever something in this town goes wrong. Heck, even I used to taunt Nevermore students’. He seemed shameful with his last sentence. ‘You Y/N have always been kind to everyone, it was only last night I truly connected the dots’.

‘I just wanted you to like me…’ I whispered. His fingers reached across the table, wiping away the single tear that streamed down my cheek. ‘Y/N…everything I said was true, but it was for you, not Wednesday’ he said sweetly, directing his own gaze away out of embarrassment. ‘I’m sad you felt you had to be someone else in order to show that.’ Tears continued to stream gently and slowly, droplets falling onto the tabletop. ‘Seeing you last night, in that dress, as you. It was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen…besides why do you think I work weekends?’ He said with a chuckle. I giggled too, the notion that any teenager would rather get up early on a Sunday morning to serve cranky customers was slightly strange.

‘There’s only one of you Y/N, multiple forms yes, but at its core, no matter the changes you make to the outside, the inside has always been the most beautiful part of you’. I shuffled out from the booth, Tyler following my movement. His tall frame towered over mine, as I directed my gaze to our feet, the tips of our shoes brushing against each other. His hands gently raised, cautiously placing them on my cheeks. He tilted my face gently, meeting my eyes halfway as he bent down slightly. ‘Hi,’ I giggled, feeling his breath on mine. He didn’t respond, instead, he leant in, and I closed my eyes. His lips were soft and warm, compared to my chapped ones. His face was warm, his nose pressing gently against mine. Our lips moved in sync, as if choreographed, as if they were always meant to be. It felt like the world around us disappeared like we were completely encapsulated in this moment like it would never end. He pulled away gently, leaving my lips cold, yearning for more, but his forehead still pressed against mine. ‘Hey Y/N’ he whispered. I opened my eyes, seeing his piercing gaze staring straight back at me.

‘Yes, Tyler?’

‘Can I drive you home?’

#wednesday #wednsday addams #addams family #tyler galpin #shapeshifter #wednesday imagine #wednesday x reader #tyler x reader

31 notes · View notes

strbymacaroon · 2 years

Text

❀𖧷 AOT Masterlist! 𖧷❀

❀ Welcome to the cruel and beautiful world of Attack on Titan. From suspenseful moments fighting alongside hero’s, to chatting about meat with cadets. Or, exploring different alternative universes with the main cast!

❀ I am your hostess, Angel! Allow me to assist you in the story you wish to take, the story you’d like to read!

(Just to remind you! These are the disclaimers!!)

Disclaimers signs!

☦︎︎ -> Smut

☹︎ -> Mature themes (As in heavy topics.)

☁︎︎ -> Fluff

⚠︎︎ -> Angest

♡︎ -> Requests

✿ -> Crack Humor

❀𖧷 Brave Soldiers 𖧷❀

❀𖧷 Eren Yeager 𖧷❀

❀Master-List: The Amazing Spider-Man: Destiny and Fate. Series.

☁︎⚠︎︎ ☹︎❥ An alternate universe where Attack on Titan and the Marvel universe collide. Where the Spider-man universes collide!

Where the new spider is the one and nerdy, Eren Yeager. Who happens to have a world stopping crush on you. (Contains major character death.)

Master-List: Here.

CW: Major Character Death, Alternate Universe - College/University, Marvel/Attack on Titan crossover, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Slow Burn.

❀ Master-list: "Roomie Series" Series.

☁︎ ☦︎︎⚠︎︎✿ ❥You live in a boring, depressing, and lonely world of college. With little to no money, too much homework, and that one weird dude always hitting on you, it was safe to say college was kicking your ass. The only thing keeping you going, the beautiful, sexy —fictional— Eren Yeager. Your one and only love.

One day, like any other you have to go answer to your roommate. She probably left her keys of something. But, you feel weird —Iron deficiency? Maybe?— and go to open your front door.

Yet, nothing in the world could’ve prepared you for the person standing behind it.

Eren fucking Jeager.

A playful smile on his lip, a bag of food in his hand, and a few playful words of- ‘Hey Roommie!’

❀𖧷 Jean Kirstein 𖧷❀

One-shot: "That's Jean's girl": 28.5k Words.

☦︎︎ ☹︎ ⚠︎︎ ❥ Jean. Kirstein.

Jesus Christ, who didn’t know his name? Everywhere you looked you were sure to find someone talking about. Looks, sex, attitude, money, anything you could think of was latched to that name. And, he lived up to his reputation perfectly. A toxic, full of himself, man-whore. Someone who uses other people for his own gain.

And his next target? You.

A sweet, innocent, naive, freshman girl.

Right?

CW: Alternate Universe - College/University, Revenge Sex, explicit video recording, Oral Sex, dark content, Porn With Plot, Jean Kirstein Being An Asshole, Maneater Reader, Bottom Jean Kirstein, manipulation.. when you squint, Degradation, Toxic Relationship.

One-shot: "Confession": 16k Words.

☦︎︎ ☹︎ ⚠︎︎ ❥ Sunday.

The day we dedicate to God, for he is our lord and savior. You, a dedicated Nun who wishes nothing more than to serve your savior. But, is starting to sin more often than normal.

With a certain desire for your priest…

Father Jean.

CW: Shameless Smut, Creampie, Overstimulation, dacryphilia, Praise Kink, Degradation, dark content, Priest Jean Kirstein.

❀𖧷 Armin Arlert 𖧷❀

Master-list: After Last Night. (I think I’m in love with you.) Series.

☹︎☦︎︎❥ You loved your line of work… enough. That is if you could even call it a line of work.

It paid good, and you had your best friend Connie by your side. It could be worse. And now, you had another thing to worry about… Hiding this not-so approving line of work from your new roommate, Armin. A boy who rivals your own major, more than two academic weapons.

Tensions are high, and you are always one second away from clawing out his throat. And, for some reason, the way he's so patient with you, only furthers this emotion. To say this situation was less than ideal was to put it lightly. And, unfortunately, it wasn’t in the sexy way your classmate, Historia, romanized it to be.

But, you can’t shake the thought—why the hell does he look so familiar?

CW: Questionable Job Choices, Gun Violence, Deception, Past Sexual Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Trauma, enemies to lovers??, Double Life, Violence, Alternate Universe - College/University.

#anime #fiction #writing #writers on tumblr #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan eren #attack on titan #aot season 4 #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot fandom #fan fiction #rating: mature #jean x y/n #eren jaeger

69 notes · View notes

tittafaces · 2 years

Text

Freedome moses

#Freedome moses free

Footwear inspired by the vibes of Gurts home city, Tel Aviv, and designed to. Designed for comfort and with sustainability in mind, these eco-friendly slides are 'an everyday reminder of how important our mental. Freedom Moses is all about celebrating summer 365 days a year From am to pm, these amazing vegan slides are injected with air so you feel like youre. Cool, comfortable, colorful, spontaneous. In addition, the slides have a light scent of milk and honey, and are waterproof and hand washable. They fit perfectly length wise and are plenty roomy width wise. FREEDOM MOSES offers a range of cruelty-free slides, 100 vegan and fully recyclable. I am a “true 7” and ended up with the 37/38. I think they fit true to size, but if you’re in between sizes, I’d size down especially if you have a narrow foot. I’m including a bunch of places because as I’ve mentioned it can be hard to track down your size in the exact color you want. If you’ve been looking for a summer shoe that’s extra comfortable, get these. I am keeping the silver and returned the others. Designed by French designer, Sarah Gurt with over 20+ years experience working in fashion all over the world, Sarah decided to move back to her adopted. I thought the pink was going to be the winner, but I ended up loving the silver so much more. Our premiere capsule collection with Freedom Moses features their iconic Two Band Slide rendered in three unique colorways and patterns inspired by Jonathan. I ordered a few different colors so I could decide what I liked the best. These brilliant voices bring fresh perspectives and insights to issues of the economy, finances, politics, liberty, rights, society, education, the justice system, creativity, business and much more, via lively panels. They are definitely super popular right now so it can be hard to find your size in your preferred color. Each year, FreedomFest brings together more than 250 expert speakers on a wide range of important topics. I bought them for comfort and honestly didn’t think I’d love how they looked… but I totally do. Ashley posted about these slides– that she called “Birkencrocs” and let me tell you, I was SOLD.

#Freedome moses free

Just something super casual and comfy that could easily be hosed off. In Moses's mouth Hurston puts forth a vision of a free people and their responsibilities to themselves and others: 'This freedom is a funny thing,' he told. I was on the hunt for a pair of waterproof shoes I could wear up at the lake this week, but also to have for our backyard. (In fact, my right foot had been so swollen for three years while I dealt with a sesamoid issue and it’s 100% back to it’s normal size… I will never take that big toe for granted again!) Sneakers to work out in and walk the dogs, my UGGs back when it was still freezing/snowing in March, and then now my Jack Rogers. dba Bird & Bean and Stitch + Sparrow All Rights Reserved. I haven’t really worn shoes all that much since March. Bird & Bean and Stitch + Sparrow are Registered Trademarks of Nohi Kids, Inc.

#Freedome moses

0 notes

karlsencrosby3 · 2 years

Text

Best Replica Hermes Grooming Bag For Sale

You shall be surprised to see how natural these handles fit on your arm. For that reason,replica celine bags no shock this collocation is chosen as one of the best dress. Its glad to see that shes just exactly the identical as Queen B we normally see inside the Gossip Lady. I think you'll have the ability to be as charming as Leighton Meester has celine boston replica too. The ultra-roomy interior and the potential of folding flat of this bag make this bag a best choice for LV fans. Smooth and clean leather trim and bright and glossy hardware are some further options that give LV Keepall 50 an edge over some other bag. The Bolide bag was created in means sooner than Kelly and Birkin bags. This classic bag has been a regular and primary for high society. Rachel Bilson was noticed out around Hollywood looking trendy as at all times. She has on Paige Premium Denim, Chloe clogs, and my favourite her Hermes Constance bag. The baggage are fake baggage made from inferior high quality materials. Many of these websites use inventory photographs, and when your order arrives, it appears nothing like what was marketed on the location. Many sellers on Google offer LV replicas, however you may get scammed and end up shopping for a really low-quality product. Replica Hermes Handbags Online Store © 2022 Designer Replica Hermes Handbags Store, Hermes Replica Online, Replica Hermes Belts. The supple leather-based actually stands out and I think you're getting an excellent replica for the worth being charged. The bag got here packaged in the Hermes present wrapping with a bow and all, and they used DHL for delivery . Since each order is a customized make they take about 2 weeks to actually make the bag after which the transport took about one other week. To provide you with a more accurate and complete understanding of the merchandise you need, each piece of our merchandise are 100% real sort of high-resolution digital photos of introduction. The prime quality could be very evident and the leather-based is gorgeous. There is just one minor fault on the black Hermes Birkin the "Hermes" made in France brand is little too massive however different that that I extremely recommend this bag. https://phoenet.tw/replicas-hermes-bags/constance-bag-replica.html I was absolutely shocked with the quality of this bag. The zippers work perfectly and the stitching is superb. I purchased a quantity of items within the order and was worried at first. Shipping was very quick- to Australia within 1 week. The appropriate Best Fake Hermes Grooming Bag always interprets essentially the most refined and unique developments, which is the true allure to draw lots of and thousands of consumers on the planet. I have obtained my Gucci bag and it’s perfect! It took 10 days to come back which is fast contemplating the quantity of packages shipping that they have during lockdown. The costumer service distinctive, they're very nice and always obtainable. The bag so nice the purse is of excellent high quality and the inside appears superb as properly. This is the most excellent replica i have ever seen. This model has twelve credit card slots, two flat pockets, a central zipped change purse, one rear exterior pocket and one front pocket. I’ve purchased several bags from this company and am glad every time. The service is great and the product was past my expectations. I will definitely proceed to shop with them. The replica purse world is fraught with myths, vital high quality info, and more that I can’t wait to share with you. That’s why I wrote up this enjoyable, little guide for my weblog. Making a purchase of fabulous Replica Hermes Constance Handbags will allow you to save freight and enormous sum of dollars. We spare no efforts to ship you first-rate Hermes Replica with dependable quality. If the merchandise is three-dimensional, like a hat, then hand felt it using this method, which can be utilized on knitted projects or to complete fiber-felt projects, as shown. Along with the selling price and higher high quality has gained a glorious popularity all around the world. It provides free supply for all requests and states. 2014 New Replica Hermes Constance baggage at inexpensive prices. The site is a supplier of high quality replicas of Cheap Hermes Constance baggage which are initially made by some well-known designers. The Constance luggage that are being supplied in the web site are available in a variety of colors and types, permitting online customers to seek for those that will meet their needs and tastes. I wired the cash with western union and received the bag one week later. wikipedia handbags

#constance bag replica #replica constance bag #replica hermes constance #hermes constance bag

0 notes

abbott88vad · 2 years

Text

Replica Louis Vuitton Keepall Bandouliere

Each piece has been superbly crafted to provide the look and feel of the genuine article, with very good overall end. The best thing about shopping for nice quality and genuine replicas of designer purses is that you may turn into almost the precise deal in a less price than the true manufacturers on the marketplace. The goods in NIT.md will arrive at a value assortment of approximately 300 to 400 dollars each piece whereas the true brands are approximately five more occasions that value. Whatever replica luxury purses use cow leather-based, calfskin, patent leather-based, or lambskin skin you can feel the unique odor. Then chanel emblem made by normal design in front of replica handbags cowl, also the distant from every aspect is well- proportioned. Such valuable famous designer handbags copy deserve cautious delivery so as to shield all of the components of totes replica perfectly may be protected arrival. Look for peeling, uneven shaped phrases on the knockoff.Look in your date stamp. This is indicated by somewhat letter in a sq. embossed into the leather, typically on the strap or opening part of the properly. The letter stands for the specific year that the bag was made. Be careful, nevertheless; nice counterfeiters may also embrace a pretend date stamp.Check the hardware on the pocket. Valentino, Replica Hermes Handbags, YSL, Dolce & Gabbana. You most need to use someone’s case to protect your “school” and “crazy love” mean? May be discussing their love for replica hermes ipad case make a journey as nicely as metropolis dwelling. About this Replica Gucci Handbags Dionysus GG Blooms Medium Shoulder Bag Pink, I have to begin from a regional mythology, perhaps this is the routine of luxurious items, why is it known as the Dionysian bag? Dionysus is the god of wine in Greek mythology. He is the son of Zeus, born within the fireplace, and raised within the rain. He is the one god among the many gods who has a mortal mother and at last enters the Olympus Wonderland. He created wine, wine made people neglect their sorrows, and wine made people inventive. The inspiration for the Dionysian bag is obtained from Dionysus. Every inch of the Hermes Bags Tokyo Replica Birkin Bag is handcrafted in France, from the gorgeous exterior obtainable in quite lots of genuine skins and colours to the roomy, matching inside. The bag boasts saddle stitching which embraces its roots from the start of Hermes, again in the 19th century. Finished with a shocking gold plated lock and key, the Hermes Birkin Bag is undoubtedly the staple of success and trend. Fluorescent cortical Sunset is actually lovely cry, she control of the ladies must begin. The metal parts look of high quality, the ornamental . wikipedia handbags It has NO inside pocket, it's 2 compartments to hold the fundamentals. The bag is inflexible, the closure is secure and the ornamental loop is a cute one. If I say i adore it I am solely exaggerating i crazily adore it.... Amazing high quality bag with good communication from the seller and fast delivery..... When looking for authenticity, make sure that all designs align correctly, are evenly spaced, and are all in proportion to at least one another. Authentic Louis Vuitton luggage are hand-stitched. If you see machine-made stitching, then it’s a pretend. Grace Kelly, in order to cover her pregnant belly from the nosy paparazzi, put ahead this bag, and so the Hermes Kelly was named after her, in the yr 1956. Walk within the room with this elegant part of Hermes luxurious, all eyes glued to you. This could be Hermes French trend house in its finest, putting forward its terrific design, the best craftsmanship together with the streamlined line-up. Supple calf leather-based with constrastive leather handles. If you are at an workplace or shared community, you can ask the network administrator to run a scan throughout the network on the lookout for misconfigured or infected devices. Finding the most effective luxurious bag is a dream of every girl, and a few are very a lot willing to battle tooth and nail simply to... replica hermes constance Our articles are mirror images of the originals,all of our objects be made with nearly all the same materials because the brands use. Beige/ebony GG Supreme canvas, a fabric with low environmental impact, with brown leather-based trim Gr..

#constance bag replica #replica constance bag #replica hermes constance #hermes constance bag

0 notes

clancyhinson00 · 2 years

Text

Replica Women Prada Luggage & Wallets

Although the photographs don’t have the logos on them, the ultimate product you obtain could have the logos. Their hottest replica baggage are from Louis Vuitton, Gucci and Coco Chanel and Fendi replicas. The Juan Store is amongst the greatest luxury baggage and designer bags vendor on DHgate. These roomy and spacious luggage provide sufficient room to retailer just about anything that you'd ever want when you're traveling for business or leisure. wikipedia handbags If you catch a star within the airport, you will positively see her with a Prada tote on her shoulder or in hand. These luggage really go great when they're paired with informal wear. Jeans or a maxi dress together with this bag will actually make you stand out. [newline]Alway entry the really helpful seller record for locating replica baggage. If you're looking for genuine bags that look fashionable, then check out Aliexpress or Dhgate. When it comes to engravings, on the picture under you can spot a slight difference in font and positioning. It goes without saying that the engravings on the genuine bag should be perfectly legible. The second detail we are going to look at right now is the Prada metallic triangle logo on the front aspect of the bag. They are a high brand and have been round in Dhgate for the past four years. They have a 98.3% positive suggestions and 34,000+ transactions. The Maizhong retailer is the one you’ve been ready for. They have greater than 1000+ merchandise in their portfolio they usually deal with backpacks, style luggage, luggage, designer bag, mens baggage and briefcases, wallets and extra. The official notice is for kids aged 4-12, but a gaggle of old aunts have been circled. There are daughters who purchase their daughters, no daughters to buy for themselves, who isn't a fairy. https://skel.io/prada-replica-bags.html I personally avoid any luggage labelled AAA, AAA+, AAAA etc. since they normally equate to junk. I obtained super busy with work and life, but my purse and designer habit never left me and I really have been collecting more beauties to add to my collection! I’ll be sharing them all with you guys over the next little while and wanted to begin with a wallet that I am completely in love with right now. I know … lots of people are not into pink, but I embrace it. Also, our team of designers produces replica bags primarily based on the popularity of the unique accent. Therefore, you possibly can trust us for the highest quality replica on the most sought-after Prada Cahier or Belle purses. This DHGate store for replica baggage has a tremendous assortment of luxurious brands replica handbags like Dior, Chanel, Prada, Gucci, and Louis Vitton. Its clear that e-mail needs to be managed to avoid breaches in data security that may hinder and even cripple your group. TFS Secure Document Delivery is an revolutionary community product that works together with your current email system to ship paperwork securely over the Internet. Using your current mail shopper , you can ship any kind of document securely to anyone having access to the Internet. Replica Gucci Bags Children’s New Supreme GG Canvas Tote, which may be worn by adults and kids, may be screwed out of the door, and it's nonetheless the cheapest gucci bag! No want for Online Payments, We are at Your Convenience. TFS Secure Messaging presents you the only answer you'll need to guard your messaging methods and help guard your company assets. This solution permits for such complete customization that individual departments inside a company can specifically establish and set-up the degree of messaging security that they require. While you won't want to spend the whole cash, it takes to own an unique Prada purse, investing in our replica will save you a lot of money. Sirena additionally mentions that everything of their gear needs to remain within a sure weight restrict so as to push out every ounce of speed they can. I’ve been sourcing products from China for over 5 years now. I’ve sourced merchandise individually and for my shoppers in bulk. To authenticate a Prada Galleria bag start by observing the general look with its measurements and deal with attachments... Do you might have any questions concerning your bag authentication? Since we already inspected the zipper and keychain of the mini pouch, it is time to give consideration to the mini pouch itself. On the fake Prada 2005 Re-Edition Shoulder Bag it is smaller and off-centered. It is a enjoyable and dreamy design, pink kitten, flower butterfly, deer, bow, alone. Horns, a wide range of patterns, colorful, actually sprouting. Inspired by the Prada 2000 Spring/Summer assortment and the traditional Cahier purse, the Prada Sidonie handbag is a tribute to the future. The two-corner retro metallic piece design is taken from the high-end luggage of Mr. Mario Replica Prada Bags in 1913, and the traces are harmonious and smooth.

#fake prada bag #prada fake #fake prada #fake prada purse #fake prada wallet

0 notes

tripthelight-fanfic · 2 years

Text

Four Knocks (Sam Kiszka Imagine)

Content Warning: mentions of drugging

Taglist: @flowervanfleet @weightofdreams-gvf @sierraahhhh @theweightofstardust @samkiszkabreakmyback @prettyintopeerpressure @greta-flanveet @fosterkidwiththebrokenjaw @the-chaotic-cow @tlexx @screechesincoherently @garagebandvanfleet @gretavanhoney @stardustdanny @joshysgf @cowboysamkiszka @lightmyluv @fleetsonfire @maykiszka @moonlightanthem and potentially you, just lmk!

yo when did half my taglist deactivate omg

Anonymous Request: okay i LOVE your angsty fics i wont lie ….. so if ur taking reqs… i was thinking something along the lines of like sam / character are childhood bffs with secret crushes on each other (everyone knows but them sorta situation) and maybe she goes out with someone and it upsets sam but the date goes horrible (maybe its a bad situation idc) and sam has to come to the rescue. idk i trust you … i’d love to read whatever you cook up!

(A/N): Lol guess who’s back! Sorry for taking an unannounced two month writing break, I haven’t been feeling super inspired lately to be quite honest. And I’m maybe about to start a new job so I can’t really say with upmost confidence that I’m “back” all the way, but I woke up to this request in my ask box this morning and coincidentally it aligns with a half-developed idea I’ve been playing around with for the last few weeks. To be fair, several people have posted fics with plots somewhat similar to this one (in which Y/N gets drugged at a bar), but I wanted to tweak the situation so that none of the boys are actually at said bar with her, but instead need to come to her rescue. This just so happens to align perfectly with this prompt so here I am, cranking it out for you. Just like old times (six months ago).

I hope you enjoy!!

also extra thank you to @vetaglanfeet and @joshysgf for looking this over for me before I posted :) love u both dearly

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

Four Knocks

It was becoming abundantly clear that Sam was not going to be helpful this afternoon.

You had invited your childhood best friend Sam over to help you prepare for a date with Matthew, the guy you’d been casually running into and flirting with for months.

You were over by your closet rifling through clothes while Sam laid flopped over on your bed, paying more attention to an old Guinness World Records book he found on your bookshelf.

“Sam, please, can you at least pretend to care? Which looks better!” You held up two dresses, one pink and floral and the other a more subdued olive green color.

Sam’s eyes flitted up from the book to briefly scan the dresses, before moving up to glare at your own eyes. “Why are you so freaked out about this anyway? You know how to dress yourself, you don’t need my opinion.” He mumbled.

You groaned and threw a hanger at him. “Because I want to look nice, Samuel! I want him to think I’m pretty and maybe consider taking me on more dates! Lord knows nobody else is asking me.”

Sam rolled his eyes and propped himself up on his elbow, his cropped hair falling into his face as he tilted his head at you. You couldn’t help but take a moment to take in his current state. He was wearing a big white crewneck sweatshirt- one you might have suspected he stole from Josh if it hadn’t been so roomy on him. The stark white only served to deepen his dark features as his brown eyes trailed over the two dresses you were holding up.

You’d be lying to yourself if you tried to say you’d never had any feelings for Sam that extended past friendship. Frankly, you’d been pining after him for almost as long as you could remember. Before you even knew what it meant. But Sam never wavered. He was always just… Sam. Never going further than his normal, tirelessly supportive and happy-go-lucky self that he’d always been around you. At some point, you decided to try and accept that he would never feel the same and look outward to new romantic opportunities.

That’s where you stumbled upon Matthew. He was a guy who you’d run into at your favorite bar every so often. He always offered to buy you drinks and when you’d let him, he’d butter you up and ask when you were gonna let him take you out. It was flattering, and it made your heart leap to feel desired. He was pretty good looking too, who were you to turn down such an opportunity?So, last weekend you decided to finally take him up on his offer.

“You’re really getting your panties all in a twist for some guy from a bar who you barely know?”

You were brought back to reality by Sam’s snarky comment, and you felt your brows knitting together at his tone. “Yeah, Sam. I am. Are you alright with that?” You shot back sarcastically, dropping your arms that were holding up the dresses.

Sam watched as you turned back toward the mirror, taking turns holding up each dress against your body. He heaved a sigh and got up, “Go with the green one. It brings out your eyes. I’m gonna head out but good luck tonight.”

His voice was defeated but you were too preoccupied with his first sentence and pre-date jitters to notice. “Thank you! I’ll let you know how it goes!”

From down the hall, Sam opened the door and mumbled to himself, “Please fucking don’t,” mimicking your tone to himself as he left your apartment.

You stumbled your way into the restaurant bathroom, slamming the door shut and fumbling with the lock as your body slid onto the floor. Your head was spinning and the room almost seemed like it was too. You rested your back against the door as you heaved a deep breath, thankful that this wasn’t a multiple-person bathroom with stalls. You took a moment to remember what you came in there for, before looking down at your phone in your hand.

You blinked and suddenly you were calling Sam.

“Y/N?” Sam answered, confusion evident in his tone. “Shouldn’t you be on your date?”

You opened your mouth to speak and were surprised by how much effort it took to string together a sentence. “I aaaam on a date! You know that! Listen, I’m in a bit of a… a bit of a situation here and I thought to myself. Self, this situation calls for Sam. So I called you!”

There was a brief pause before Sam spoke again, a bit more warily this time. “Y/N, you sound fucking wasted. What, have you two been slamming shots?”

You shook your head, forgetting that Sam couldn’t see you. “No but that’s the situation! I just had a glass of red wine! I think he,” You took a break to hiccup, “I think he might’ve put somethin in my drink.”

Immediately you heard shuffling on Sam’s end. “Where are you?” He asked.

You shrugged to yourself, looking around at the bathroom in front of you. “Well right now I’m in the bathroom, because I don’t think he would’ve liked me calling up another dude during our date. That’s, like, rude, ya know?”

You could just barely hear the sound of Sam getting into his car and starting it. “You know what, Y/N, I think that was a good choice but not for the reason you just gave. I think this guy deserves a little rudeness. Do you remember what restaurant he took you to?”

You sat for a second, humming to yourself in thought. “I don’t remember the name. It’s the Italian place a few blocks from the bar I always met him at. He said he lives near here, comes all the time.”

Sam scoffed, “Figures. Look, you stay in that bathroom. I’m on my way over, okay? I’m gonna get there and knock four times so you know it’s me. Don’t open the door for anyone else, you got that?”

You smiled to yourself at the thought of seeing Sam, awareness quickly slipping through your fingers. “Four knocks! Can’t wait to see you! You know, I wish you had asked me on this date instead of him. You wouldn’t have done this to me.”

There was silence for a moment, and you briefly thought Sam had hung up, until you heard a deep sigh from the other line. “No, Y/N, I sure as hell wouldn’t have. Just please try to stay awake until I get there, okay?”

You held your hand up to your head in salute, again forgetting he cannot see you. “Aye aye, captain!”

Sam let out a humorless chuckle before actually hanging up. You let your phone fall to your side and leaned your head back against the door, fighting the drugs in your system that willed your eyes to close.

They did flutter shut for a moment before being startled back open by two loud knocks on the door.

“Y/N? You alright in there? It’s been a little while.” You sat back up a bit straighter at the sound of Matthew’s voice behind the door, reminding you that you weren’t safe yet.

“I’m okay, no worries! Just give me a few minutes.” You called out, trying your best to sound strong and put-together as your consciousness faded by the second.

You sat there, waiting anxiously for Sam for what felt like an hour but was more likely 10 minutes. Your doped-up brain filtered out the restaurant noise behind the door, even when it picked up a bit after a few minutes.

Finally, you were greeted by four clear knocks on your door.

Using more effort than you were expecting, you raised your hand to open the door. Your eyes met Sam’s face for a fleeting moment before they rolled back into your head, sleep finally taking over.

The next morning, you woke up tucked into your bed with your dress still on. You turned your head to look at your bedside clock and your head pounded in response. Suddenly, vague details of the night prior started flooding back, doing nothing to ease the dull ache in your head. You were relieved to see that you had made it home and woken up with your clothes intact, but there were large gaps of time you couldn’t remember from your night out.

And that scared the shit out of you.

You managed to muster up enough strength to reach over and check your phone, shocking yourself to see that it’s after noon.

You checked for outward calls and texts from the night before, even the Uber app to try and piece together how you made it home. All you could find was the single outward call to Sam. Maybe he would have answers.

You redialed him and placed the phone up to your ear, only to jump when you heard it ring from your living room. Sam’s here?

There was some shuffling behind your door as you heard the call get declined in your ear, immediately followed by the gentle knocking and opening of your bedroom door.

Four gentle knocks.

You watched as Sam’s timid frame entered your room and sat on the edge of your bed. His eyes were filled with worry and it made you sick to your stomach.

“Sam, what happened last night?”

He sighed and looked down at his hands. “How much do you remember?”

You shook your head, eyes scanning past him to try and piece together your evening. “Well, I remember when I got there. He seemed nice enough, a little forward like usual but nothing too crazy. We were just talking and…” Your brows knit as your memory started to get fuzzy. “I don’t understand, why don’t I remember anything else?”

You turned and looked back at Sam and were taken aback by the heartbroken look on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused and first took hold of your hand closest to him, establishing a firm grip before speaking.

“He, um… He laced your drink with date rape drugs. I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t look at you but he was forced to see in his peripheral the way your face fell in realization.

“So that’s why… Oh my God…” Your free hand flew up to cover your mouth as tears pricked at your eyes. You instinctually moved to pull your legs closer to yourself and Sam loosened his grip on your hand to let you move that as well. But you tightened your grip in response, in desperate need of his gentle grounding in this situation.

“But I… How did you… It doesn’t make any sense, Sam. It wasn’t even a bad date!” You were close to hysterics trying to piece together the logic of the situation, and Sam wasn’t willing to let you sit there and drive yourself crazy.

He scooted a bit closer to brush the hair out of your face with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “You locked yourself in the bathroom and called me before you lost consciousness. I was able to find the restaurant and get that piece of shit taken out in a cop car. God, he was waiting for you right outside the bathroom door, too. Luckily, you stayed awake long enough to unlock the door for me. But, fuck it was hard just watching you go limp after that.”

Sam inched closer and you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder, tears now silently streaming down your face and threatening Sam’s eyes as well.

“I carried you out and drove you home. And I just, I couldn’t leave you here. Not like this. I couldn’t let you wake up alone and confused or godforbid you woke up and remembered, I-“

You lifted your head up to meet Sam’s gaze when you noticed his watery voice start rambling. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek and he leaned into the touch. “Thank you, Sam. I don’t… think I could ever thank you enough. I don’t even know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t picked up that phone.” Your words sank in for yourself as you spoke them, and you pulled your hand away from Sam’s to wrap your arms around him and pull him tightly against you.

He gently pulled you into his lap and held you close, sniffling to himself. “You don’t need to thank me for anything. I would do it all again in a heartbeat, I would. I just really hate that you were put in that situation to begin with.” He rested his chin on top of your head that was pressed against his chest.

You had so many thoughts swimming through your head. Possibilities. Newfound fears. About a million questions, but one stood out from the rest. “Why did he do that?” You mumbled, burying your mouth and nose in the fabric of Sam’s sweatshirt and inhaling the comforting warmth.

Sam heaved a deep, shaky breath. “I… I don’t know. He’s a sick, disgusting man who thinks he can take whatever he wants from this world.” His hands started moving against you, one making warm sweeping strokes up and down your back while the other lightly pet your hair. “He should have never even had the opportunity to get near you, I don’t know what I would’ve done if he succeeded. I wanted to kill him when I saw him standing outside that bathroom.”

“Why didn’t you?” Your question was muffled by the fabric you were nuzzled into, but his chest shook with a quick laugh.

“I’d still like to, but I couldn’t. You needed me.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, which made your heart flutter. He’s never done that before.

Sam seemed to notice at the same time, as he froze in place for a moment before quickly darting his head back to where it rested before on top of yours.

You both sat still for a few moments, trying to calm down and sit with what was just spoken. Eventually, Sam murmured, “How do you feel?”

You almost scoffed until you realized he was just checking in on you. “I feel… disgusting. I feel used and taken advantage of and I hate it.” Your arms pulled tighter against Sam to punctuate your last statement.

You could feel Sam shake his head as you spoke, and when you finished he retracted his arms to pull your face out from his chest so you could look at him. “Y/N, you have to understand that none of this happened by any fault of yours. You are no worse a person because of it and you are still every bit as beautiful as you were when I left here yesterday. I know you don’t feel that way right now but I just need you to trust me.”

Your eyes searched his for any semblance of lying and you found none. “You think I’m beautiful, Sam?” You asked, hope dripping from your tone of voice.

Sam’s eyes widened for a split second as he realized what he had just said, but as he saw the affection in your eyes he felt at ease doubling down. “I think you’re very beautiful. The most beautiful. That should’ve been me taking you out on that date.”

Your heart was racing at his words, completely unaware that you had voiced essentially the same sentiments to him the night before during the phone call. “You still can.” You whispered out, a blush spreading across your face.

Sam smiled down at you and placed a long kiss onto your forehead. “You know what? I just might. You deserve a re-do. Except this time, you’ll be treated the way you deserve.”

You beamed up at him and nuzzled your head back into his chest, missing the warmth and safety. Sam’s arms wrapped back around you and the two of you sat together contentedly. Sam’s hands were about to continue rubbing soothing strokes across your back when he stopped them, instead opting to point two of his fingers and tap them lightly against your back.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four times.

You smiled against him in memory, surprising even yourself with your ability to see tenderness in such a painful memory.

And you reached one of your hands up his back to give four clear taps back.

#this is perfect I need to level out my masterlist anyway I was lacking some sam #well specifically for consistency’s sake I was lacking a sam SMUT but we don’t have to talk about that #I do really enjoy requests thank you for this anon #sam Kiszka #sam kiszka imagine #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka fanfic #gvf imagine #gvf fanfic #gvf fanfiction #sam kiszka x y/n #sam kiszka x reader

272 notes · View notes

jiminsfault · 4 years

Text

Pull-out | knj

⚙️ pairing: Trucker!Namjoon x reader

⚙️ genre: 18+ / smut

⚙️ word count: 2.7k

⚙️ summary: you needed a tire changed and Namjoon was more than ready to help you with it.

⚙️ warnings: sex with a stranger, striptease, protected sex, but also unprotected sex, Namjoon slaps your ass a lot, face slapping, pussy slapping, rough sex, tit slapping, nipple play?, fingering, pwp, this is shameless porn, watersports, creampie, swearing

⚙️ thank you so much @meowxyoong for making this great header for me!!

⚙️ this fic is my birthday present to the lovely crackhead Tay @interludemoonchild! I hope you had the bestest birthday!! Enjoy my sins, love ya uwu

masterlist

“Fucking great!” you exclaimed, seething full of anger and annoyance. Your tire got trashed, lucky for you, you were still able to roll onto the next pull-in. It was 11 pm, the parking lot was full of trucks and no help was near. “How am I supposed to get home now?”

There was no other outlet for your anger than that damn tire, so you kicked it. Regretting it immediately after, you hissed in pain and jumped around for a moment. You were trying to drive back home for the weekend, college sucked the soul out of you with the many exams and assignments and now you needed to rest.

That rest was currently escaping your vision, it looked like an uncomfortable night in your car seat and a long wait for a tow, taking you back to college again. Goodbye homemade food and goodbye wonderful crackers that only your mom knew how to excel perfectly.

A heavy sigh escaped your throat when you sat down on your engine hood. It was either that or finding someone who was able to help you change the tires. But no one seemed to be awake, all the trucks stood there, no light inside and no soul cared to walk around this place at nearly midnight.

You needed a drink. Water, of course, in case someone suddenly would be sent by god to help you fix this shit and you could continue to drive back home. Leaning over your front seat to grab the water bottle you put in the back, you suddenly stilled. Steps that seemed to get closer to you were clear to hear and you didn’t know if you should be glad or cry out for help.

“I saw you kickin’ that tire back there, seemed like you’d need a hand,” a dark timbre voice muttered from behind you, sounding beautifully raspy and broken down. “My truck’s back there, come along and I’ll get you that new tire on, yeah?”

Slowly turning, you held a tight lipped smile until you saw the tall man in front of you. He had a mullet, silver hair, very country. Wide eyes but a gorgeous smile with dimples, broad frame and handsome overall.

“And who are you?” You asked dismissively, not showing how much he intrigued you.

“Name’s Namjoon, but I could ask you the same, beautiful.” He carried himself like he clearly knew how attractive he was, seeming like the hero with a cape with the way he suddenly appeared and offered his help.

Coming back to his truck seemed risky, but you never once were the type to think situations like these over. Nodding slowly, you gave him your name, held out your hand for him to shake and muttered, “then show me that truck of yours, Namjoon.”

He smirked, shook your hand with a confident grip on it and your skin tingled when he pulled away.

He led the way, walking across the parking lot to a truck, color not visible because of the dark that was enveloping you. “What do I get for helping the Lady, anyway?” He suddenly asked, glint in his eyes when he turned to you, hand still holding onto the door handle to the front of his truck.

You curled a strand of your hair around your finger, bit your lip and licked across it right after. Your eyes traveled up his figure and he didn’t miss it. “Being on the road must be lonely?” You asked, seemingly off topic but you knew where you were headed with this.

Namjoon stepped closer, nodded to your question. “I’m sure I could do you a favor, too,” you purred, seductive with the way you put your hand on his shoulder, letting it glide down to his wrist. You held your hand there for a bit, moving it only when he chuckled and invaded your space even more.

“Yeah? I think so too, pretty.” He pulled you into his frame with a hold on your waist and leaned down, breath fanning across your lips. “Let’s get up in there and you can show me that favor of yours.”

Anticipation shook your body, watching Namjoon open the door and when he held his hand out to help you up the steps, he smacked your ass and jumped in right after you. The space was quite roomie, a mattress behind the two front seats that was decorated just like any normal bed would be. You couldn’t dwell on it longer, Namjoon turned you around and held your face close.

“You sure about this?” He murmured, lips moved only a hair’s width away from your own. There was almost a ghost of his lips on yours, stealing a gasp from you when he walked towards his bed with you still firm in his hold.

You hummed, raising your arms to hold onto his shirt on his sides. “Yeah, you got condoms?” He groaned, pushing his lips the final space and kissing you. It took you by surprise, but you moved your lips with his, holding his plump bottom lip between yours and humming into the kiss.

Just for a second to speak, Namjoon retreated, “yeah, got ‘em right there,” before he kissed you again, moved his head to deepen the connection and pushed you forward until your knees hit the bed and you fell onto it. He had to hold himself up, standing and quickly he rummaged through the glove box, showing you the foil packet.

Like a predator he stalked towards you, wicked grin on his face and he crooked his finger, “take those clothes off, pretty. Show me what I’m working with.”

You stood up, taking his face in between your hands and kissing him, before you pushed Namjoon on the bed and slowly touched your body. From your breasts to your hips, you slowly skimmed across your figure, stood between his spread legs and tested his patience. He growled, slapping your ass again and with the movement, you stepped a bit closer.

With a giggle, you started to raise your shirt, showing the first sliver of skin to him and immediately, his big hands touched your stomach, holding your hips. He watched close as you raised the fabric more, slowly your bra started to show and without much more patience yourself, you threw the top off. He blew a kiss right over your belly button and hovered his hands over your sides.

“Beautiful, more,” he urged, eyes hungry. You obliged, moved your hands down to your Jeans. Unbuttoning them was easy, but to get out of them proved a bit harder, especially when you tried to make it sexy. Nevertheless, Namjoon soaked up all the skin he got to see, helping you stand stable when you stepped out of the pants.

He slid his hands across your thighs and didn’t notice when you moved up to unclasp your bra, removing the thin straps. It dropped into Namjoon’s lap and he looked into your eyes with lust, reached up to kiss your breast. He held one in his hand, sucking your nipple into his mouth and playing with it until you whimpered, put your hand on his shoulders and slowly drove them up towards his hair.

Just when you were about to continue with your underwear, he grabbed your hands, held them together with one of his own before he looked up at you. “I’ll do the honor,” he said, lazy in his tone and you let him, willingly removing your hands and holding them back.

He didn’t tease them down your legs like you would’ve done. He ripped them down the length of your thighs, pulled you closer to his face with his hands on your ass and made you fall across his lap. “Can’t wait to fuck that pretty pussy. Did you plan to get fucked tonight? Why else would you wear this skimpy shit, hm?” He referred to your undergarments, laughing at your pathetic mewl as he spanked you again, taking a hold of your bottom lip with his teeth.

He pressed your lips together for another kiss, opening his mouth and you got the hint, doing the same and letting your tongues twist around each other.

The cabin of his truck was quiet other than the wet noises your lips made and the small moans you let out, high in pitch and shaky with anticipation.

Namjoon suddenly threw you off of him, to the side and stood up himself. His pants were off much quicker than yours were, just as his buttoned shirt. Your eyes were fixed onto his face, the sinful expression he carried when he hooked his thumbs into the boxershorts he was lastly wearing. Only now, you noticed that he took off his shoes already when you were stripping down in front of his eyes.

He removed the last fabric and stroked his shaft up and down, already erect and you couldn’t help but gaze down and watch him work himself up.

“Must admit, I didn’t think I’d be fucking tonight. But with the way you’re basically throwing your little cunt at me, how could I not give in, huh?” He murmured, climbing onto the mattress and letting go of his penis. You gasped at his foul words, pushing yourself up on your elbows to reach towards Namjoon. He was almost on top of you, letting you connect your lips with his for only a short moment before he sat back on his knees.

You whined at the loss of contact, looked back down onto his erection and watched Namjoon as he unpacked the condom and rolled it onto himself. With another few glides across his shaft, he made sure the condom was on and looked back up at you, biting his lip. “You look so ready to get fucked by a stranger, what a fucking slut you are,” he groaned taking your hips and raising them, pulling you close by your thighs and spreading you over his lap.

Full view of your glistening cunt, he licked over his lips and slid his hand up your inner thigh. Without you asking, he rubbed across your clit before he pushed a single finger in, up to the last knuckle. You keened with the feeling, breath hitching but you were greedy. “More, please,” you asked with a breathy voice.

He curled his finger up before he removed it, pushing back with not two but three of his fingers and smirking up at your face. You moaned loudly, without shame and looked at Namjoon with pleading eyes. He cursed when he saw and felt you clenching around his fingers and he pumped into you a few times, before he deemed you prepped enough.

“Gonna split this tiny pussy open,” Namjoon growled, looking into your eyes. He leaned down to your face and kissed you, sloppily and trailed down to your chin, your jaw and finally your neck. He bit into your skin, sucking and you gasped his name. His distractions helped ebb the pain of his head finally entering but the more he pushed in, the bigger he seemed to get.

After half of his length sat inside of you, he paused, checking in on you and kissing you with his mouth open, tongue across yours. You moaned when you were ready, pushing against him to make him move. Without much hesitation, he first pulled back before he pumped into you with his full length. You threw your head back, clawing at his shoulders and his back, taking what he was giving you.

Namjoon pushed himself up after he thrusted into you with strong hips, taking your ankles into his hands and placing them onto his shoulders. The new winkle pushed him deeper and he came closer, pushing your legs up against you and plowing into you, ankles tight in his grip.

“Ah, Namjoon,” you moaned. “You’re so big, I’m so full!” He moaned at your hurried words, slamming his hips even harder against you. “Mmm, you’re fucking me so good.”

“Yeah? Can’t get enough of this cock? Your tiny fucking cunt can’t even take me,” he grunted, sweat gliding down his temple. His words were breathless, just like yours and he put your ankles back onto his shoulders to grip your thighs, slapping your ass and making the sensitive skin swell red. “I’m gonna fuck you so full of my cum, you’ll think of me for days.”

“I want all of you, fuck, give it to me! Give me all you got,” you held your legs close to your chest to keep yourself open, breathing heavy. “Fill this pussy, make me feel even fuller!”

Your bodies grew sweaty, loud smacking sounds filled the truck and Namjoon’s thrust grew sloppy.

“You’re such a whore, bet I could piss inside of you and you’d love it,” he seethed, gabbing one of your breasts and smacking it. “You like being slapped, slut? Want me to hit you here, too?” He asked, tapping your cheek.

“Yes! Yes, fuck, Namjoon! All of it! I want all of it!” You cursed, raising your head to look into his face as you gave him your consent.

“Fuck,” he stuttered, slowing down his thrusts to give himself a break. He gave slow but hard slams into your hips and you gasped with every single one of them. He gripped your jaw, making you look at him and closing your mouth. “Whore,” he spat, slapping your cheek and you bowed your back with pleasure.

“You have no self respect, huh? Such a dumb fucking slut. Hold still and let me piss inside of you, that’s all you’re useful for. Fuck.” His words came out slurred, pleasure taking up his features and he retreated and removed his condom, looking back at you once more, before he plowed back into you. After a few thrusts,he stilled and warmth filled you.

Your mouth fell open and your eyes rolled back from the soft feeling of his piss filling your pussy. It wasn’t much, but you felt so full and so good being used by this man.

“God, such a good brainless bitch. Letting me ruin you like this.” Both of you didn’t need much more than this, he twisted your nipple with two fingers and reached between your legs to slap your cunt, harshly rubbing your clit and pinching it. He was rough in all ways and it made pleasure zap through all your nerves before your body started shaking. Namjoon pushed into you only once more before you clamped tightly around him, cumming as hard as you never did before.

You moaned his name loudly when you came, losing the hold on your thighs and letting them droop down. Namjoon moved slowly to heighten your orgasm, letting you come down before he quickened his movements once more, pulling out and jerking off with a rushed hand. He positioned his head on your clit and let his cum spurt onto your cunt, across your lower belly. He milked out the last drop of his sperm before he slumped down onto the mattress next to you.

Both of you needed to catch your breaths, chests raising with big intakes of air and a tear slipped down your cheek. “Fuck, that was so good.” You murmured into the air.

Namjoon groaned, “your cunt is a gift.”

At his comment you chuckled a bit, starting to get up and looking around the truck. You cringed at the feeling of his urine slowly dripping out of you. “Do you have tissues or something? Need to wipe your cum off.”

He sat up himself and moved your face to look at him. “No,” he said. Before you could retaliate, he scooted across the mattress and picked your slip up, “sluts like you don’t get to clean up. Get dressed,” Namjoon smirked, but you knew he was serious. Your stomach swirled with arousal at his assertiveness and you nodded, gulping.

He helped you get dressed when he noticed you legs shaking, laughing once you were done and laying flat on his bed. Namjoon got dressed himself and then opened the door, all the cold air immediately rushing into the stuffy room.

He jumped down onto the floor and looked up at where you still sat on his bed. “Gotta change a tire now,” Namjoon said with a wink.

758 notes · View notes

axwalker · 3 years

Text

Undeniable Miracle 2: Stranded

I’m participating in the 12 days of Christmas hosted by @leelee10898 and @emichelle . Thank you so much 💕 💕

Synopsis: Alexis decides to leave Cordonia on Christmas Eve, but she has a car accident in the middle of the woods during a snow storm.

A/N: This AU takes place during Liam’s and Madeleine’s Engagement Tour.

A/N 2: Some vocabulary for the Spanish words.

A/N 3: I’m using the prompt: “If you’re so cold, why didn’t you say something? Come here.” requested by @mskaneko

Fonda: Small Mexican restaurant.

Romeritos: Tender sprigs of seepweed which are boiled and served in a mole sauce seasoned with shrimp jerky blended into the mix. Typical additional ingredients include boiled potatoes, nopales and shrimp. They are usually served with bread slices and in tacos

Ensalada de manzana: combination of lettuce, beets, apple, and peanuts in a light orange vinaigrette

Bacalao: Cod fish prepped with sautee onion, garlic, tomatoes and olives.

Pozole: Tradition Mexican soup made with Hominy, pork and peppers.

Villancicos: Traditional Christmas songs.

Warnings: I can’t think of anything for this chapter but there will be NSFW in future chapters. All my fics are for 18+ ONLY.

Words: 2718

Disclaimer: Characters and settings belong to Pixelberry.

@burnsoslow Thank you so much for beta read and for your encouragement. I love you and appreciate you so much.

The edit of the mood board is the work of beautiful @mskanekoI was dying to use it. I love youuu

When he sees I don't respond, he opens my door. "O'Brien? Are you okay?"

I blink, incapable of forming a coherent sentence.

"Did you hit your head? You seem lost." Drake kneels in front of me.

Finally, I react. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too. I asked if you were okay."

"I'm fine. I need to call a tow truck."

"Yeah, right. There are no tow trucks in storms like this, O'Brien." He sighs and asks me to open the car's hood so he can check the engine. Five minutes later, he comes back, and I read his expression. The car is not going anywhere.

"Sorry, O'Brien, but this car is not going to work for now, and the storm is getting worse. You're going to have to come with me."

I scoff. Drake is insane if he thinks I'll go anywhere with him. I've spent the last two months trying to forget everything about him; I don't need this right now.

"I'm sure I can find a way to get to Lythikos by myself."

"Shit, you're so damn stubborn, O'Brien. You aren't anywhere near there. It's about 50 miles away. I guess if your car had kept going about 50 miles through the woods, you might have landed there. Is that what you were trying to do?"

"Bite me, Drake."

"Wow, you really should do something about that attitude of yours." The asshole actually smirked. "I have a cabin a few miles up the road. We can go there and wait out the storm. My truck is parked on the road. I pulled over when I saw the car spinning."

"I'll wait here."

"You'll wait for what? To freeze to death? Don't be ridiculous; you're coming with me."

I shake my head stubbornly. "I think freezing to death is preferable to going with you. Thank you very much."

"You don't have much of a choice, O'Brien. I can't fuckin' leave you here. My cell phone doesn't work here, and I'm assuming yours doesn't either or else you'd be on it right now. They're expecting two feet of snow or more. So, I'm sorry if you're pissed at me or whatever, I'm not leaving you here."

I'm well aware that I'm behaving like a petulant, spoiled child, but my wish to make him as angry as I am overcomes all logical thinking. “As I said, I’m not going.”

"I'm going to have to carry you to my truck then."

"Carry me? No way. You are not touching me." I grab my phone again, begging my Abuela to send me just a little bit of phone service so I can call Max.

"Either you get out of that by yourself, or I carry you. You have exactly 30 seconds to decide."

I shut my door and raise my phone, trying to get some signal. Suddenly, Drake opens the door, reaches into the car, and has me scooped up without effort into his arms before I can even protest. I barely have time to grab my purse.

"Enough of your bullshit. Done," he states, then kicks my door shut and starts to walk up the snowy hill.

I have no choice but to put my arms around his neck. "Let me go this second Walker!"

Drake stares at me and gently shoves a strand of hair off my face. I'm suddenly aware of how close our faces, our lips, are. Because my heart is stupid and has a mind of its own, it starts beating like crazy. Drake swallows hard, and for a second, I think he's going to kiss me; I'm almost closing my eyes when he speaks.

"Here we are." He puts me back on the ground and opens the door of his old Jeep.

A bark coming from the backseat startles me.

"Oh my god! He's beautiful! He looks like a wolf!"

Drake's eyes soften when he pets the animal.

"It's a Tamaskan dog."

"Hi, boy! You're so cute!"

"He's not supposed to be cute; he's supposed to be terrifying." I turn my head, and I see he's teasing me. I shake my head and keep talking to the dog. "Don't listen to your dad, handsome; you're a cutie pie."

"I'm not his dad. He's a damn dog, O'Brien."

I rolled my eyes. "What's his name?"

"Zeppelin. Get in the Jeep; I'm freezing my ass off out here."

I smirked at him. "I never realized how bossy you are."

He shakes his head, but I catch the unwilling smile on his face.

DRAKE

I glance to the seat next to me, still not believing that O'Brien is here, in my Jeep. I try to think of something else besides her maddening fruity scent or the curve of her neck, but I already know that my ability to function like a normal human being disappears when she's around.

I can't believe that I'm so fucking stupid to be still hung up on her after what happened in Ramsford. She made perfectly clear who she wanted to be with -- yet here I am, looking at her like a goddamn fool.

We drive for a few minutes in complete silence. Suddenly a deer jumps out from the woods, right in front of the Jeep. I hear Alexis scream as I swerve, and the truck starts to slide and spin, gaining speed. In a second, I glance at her, throwing one arm across her chest to hold her against the seat when I see she doesn't have her seatbelt on. I try to regain control of the truck but it's not working. I feel the Jeep flying off the road and into the woods, crashing downhill and plowing down small trees, until it finally stops, wedged amongst a bunch of larger trees on the side of a hill.

"Fuck!" I throw both hands against the steering wheel. "I can't fucking believe this shit!" I turn to O'Brien. "And why the fuck wasn't your seatbelt on?"

“I thought you could drive!" She looks down at my arm, still holding her, and whispers, "Thank you."

I rest my head against the wheel and take several deep breaths. "I'm sorry for yelling at you." My voice is level and calm, even if the thought that something could've happened to her while I was driving makes me murderous. "Are you okay?" She nods, still shaken.

"You okay, Zeppelin?" The dog whimpers and licks my hand. "That's a good boy. We're all okay." I try to restart the truck, but it's completely dead. I can't believe this; honestly, I just can't.

"What are we going to do now?" O'Brien asks.

"Well, we're out of cars, so unless you want to walk or ride the dog to my place, we're stuck here."

She squints at me. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Walker."

"But the highest form of intelligence, O'Brien." I wink at her, and she rolls her eyes at me again. I've forgotten how much I loved teasing her. At least, I wish I had forgotten. "We're going to have to just stay put until the plow truck comes by, and we'll have to hitch a ride. Until then, we're in luck because I stopped at the grocery store on the way to the cabin. I have enough things we can eat and drink to keep us going until then. I have a big blanket in the back seat, so we should be able to stay pretty warm. It's really heavy and thick."

I saw the panic in her eyes, so I continued. "Hey, O'Brien, look at me." She raises those fucking beautiful dark eyes and meets my gaze. "I would never let anything happen to you, okay?"

She nods. "Okay. Yes, I know. I just hope we don't get hypothermia.”

"We won't, O'Brien. C'mon, I think we should both sit in the back seat, since there's a lot of room back there, and we can put the blanket over both of us. I think it will help keep us warmer."

She gives me an odd look but nods. "Right. Yes. I think it's the best idea." She climbs over the seat first, and my eyes roam over her perfect body. I suppress the urge to sink my hands in her delicious hips and sit her on my lap. I sigh and call Zeppelin to the front seat, so we have more space.

"This is nice; it's very roomy," she says as she pulls the cover over both our legs.

I can see that she's shivering. "If you're so cold, why didn't you say something? Come here." I put my coat on her shoulders, and she smiles at me. Fuck me if I wouldn't do almost anything for that smile. "Where were you going on Christmas Eve? I' would've thought you'd go to the Christmas ball in the palace."

She hesitates for a few seconds, but finally, she answers, "I was going to spend Christmas with Olivia in Lythikos."

I raise my brow in disbelief. "I must have a concussion, O'Brien; I just heard you were headed to Lythikos to spend Christmas with Olivia Nevrakis."

"I know! Our friendship was … unexpected. At first, we were just trying to figure out who set us up. The whole Tariq thing that you stopped? It was a trap; someone was trying to blackmail both of us."

I don’t want her to know that I spend every single free minute I have helping Max figure out who set her up. If I ever find the person who sent Tariq to her room that night and scared the shit out of her, I will kill him.

"Yes, O'Brien, I knew. Liam told me."

She nodded. "Well, we're trying to get to the bottom of it together, so we've been spending a lot of late nights drinking bourbon and talking. She hides it very well under layers of sarcasm and abrasiveness, but she's extremely loyal and has a great heart. Just like you."

"If you compare me to that crazy redhead one more time, you'll be sleeping outside, O'Brien, and I can promise you, it's cold."

She laughs. "Okay, okay, sorry. I won't do it again."

I'm about to ask her why she's not spending Christmas with Liam, but she speaks before I can talk. "And you? What are you doing here?"

"I moved to a town close to Lythikos a month ago. I'm opening a veterinary clinic there. This morning I went to supervise the construction site and to get some groceries for the cabin."

She looks pensive but doesn't say anything for a while. "I hope you're happier here than you were in the palace, Drake,"she finally says, so softly that I almost miss it.

I take a deep breath because I can't tell her the truth. I can't tell her that I can't be happy now, not after her. When I kissed her that night, I lost everything. She would never be mine, and after that, we couldn’t even be friends anymore.

"Thank you, O'Brien," I reply anyway because I know she's expecting some sort of answer.

"How did you get Zeppelin?" she asks as she pets my dog, and I swear the traitor's mouth curls up into a little doggy smile.

"I was running some errands for the clinic when I saw him tied up outside. I came back a few weeks later on a sunny day, and this poor dog is just tied up to a fence on the side of the building with no shade or anything, and I don't even see a water dish or food. So I park my car and check on him, and he's all happy to have someone pet him, tail wagging like mad. There was an old food dish off to the side, but it was empty, and a dish with some dirty water. I went to my house and grabbed some of the toys and food I'd bought for the clinic. I also gave him some water, and he drank three fucking bowls. I felt terrible leaving him. I just had this bad gut feeling, you know?" She nods with misty eyes. "Anyway, I had to go back to Cordonia city after I gave the dog the stuff. To be honest, I kind of forgot about him. But when I came back, O'Brien, it was awful. I honestly think the last time he ate was the food I'd given him. He was nothing but skin and bones, too weak even to stand up. He was just lying there in the dirt with flies buzzing all around him. But when I kneeled in front of him, his little tail wagged a tiny bit. I think he remembered me."

Tears spring into her eyes. "My God, Drake, what happened?"

I see how affected she is, so I reach her hand and squeeze it. "An old man came out of the little building and started yelling at me to get off his property. There was just no fucking way I was going to leave him there. I told him that if I ever saw a dog or any other animal on his property ever again, I would fucking kill him. The douchebag just ran back to the house. I took the dog to my cabin. He was dehydrated and almost starved to death, had two ear infections, worms — you name it. We've been together ever since." Zeppelin looks up as if he knows we're talking about him.

She wipes a tear and caresses Zeppelin's ear. "You named him?"

I shrug. "Best band ever."

"Ha! You're so predictable, Walker."

"How do you know my last name? I never gave it to you."

"I asked Maxwell at the coronation. Why? You don't like it when I call you that? Turnabout's fair play, Walker." She bits her bottom lip; I look away before the impulse to kiss her becomes unbearable, and I do something stupid. Again.

"Nah, I like it, O'Brien. Calling each other by our last names will be our thing."

She sighs, not talking for a while. "What is it, O'Brien? I can almost see the wheels turning in your head."

"We're going to spend Christmas Eve here, stranded in the middle of nowhere."

"I know; I'm sorry, O’Brien. Do you usually do something special?"

She looks up to me with so much vulnerability in her pretty face, I find it hard to breathe. I instinctively come close to her because I hate that look in her eyes; I hate even more that I was the one who put put it there with my fucking dumb question. Her mom and grandma are dead; of course it's a sad subject.

"Not in a long time. It was one of the holidays my mom, my Abuelita and I celebrated together. We didn't really do Halloween because my mom's Fonda was so busy preparing for Dia de Muertos. The day of the dead," she explains.

"I know, O'Brien. You made me watch Coco with you and Maxwell in Applewood." I can't help but smile at the memory. She forced us to watch the damn movie in Spanish only to hit "pause" at every single scene to translate it and explain the traditions.

"Well, Coco had it right! They really respected our traditions!" she replied, her eyes shining as they always did when she was excited. "Anyway, my mom worked for most holidays, and I was forced to spend Thanksgiving with my dad, his crazy wife, and her creepy son. So, Christmas was the best. Especially Nochebuena, Christmas Eve. We had this huge dinner where all our neighbors came to the house and brought Mexican dishes. We had everything; bacalao, romeritos, ensalada de manzana, and the best pozole in Brooklyn. We sang villancicos, had a piñata. The whole thing. My abuela took the holidays seriously," she says with a sad smile.

I might be a fucking fool, but I can't stand seeing her this sad. And, suddenly, I know what to do. "We might not be able to have a traditional Mexican Nochebona ..."

She giggles. "No-che-bue-na, Drake."

I think I could spend the rest of my life here listening to her speaking Spanish.“Yeah, that.” I watch through the window and when I see that the storm has calmed, I say, “I have an idea; just wait here."

Tagging:

@texaskitten30 @leelee10898 @emichelle @burnsoslow @kat-tia801

@msjr0119 @twinkleallnight @mskaneko @drakexwillow @twinkle-320 @kimmiedoo5 @kingliam2019 @drakexwillow @princessleac1 @marshmallowsandfire @tinkie1973

#axwalker writes #drake walker #drake x mc #12 days of fictmas 2020

63 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Love is a Dog From Hell, 1/5 (Rosnali) - Mattels

is it really that complicated that denali wants to be the best? all signs from the figure-skating gods seem to point to yes. (especially with her decidedly adult and mature hatred of coach rosé, who keeps wearing those god awful skin-tight ski-pants.)

aka denali’s a figure skating coach, rosé’s a ski coach; the rest is history

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29861322/chapters/73479360

November is sacred to Denali.

Although she’s a full-time figure-skating coach year round, boasting a full clientele of Olympic level students alongside a waiting list that seems to be growing by the year, November always manages to remind her why she started teaching to begin with.

Bonneville Academy, despite Denali considering its title of ‘academy’ being a stretch, has managed to wedge itself into her life, year after year. She spends six months of her year in Chicago, teaching private lessons to overenthusiastic and grossly rich teenagers, but from November through to April, she spends in Utah, working with the students to tighten their quadruple lutzes and receiving a paycheck that leaves her feeling pretty comfortable until the next November.

Although the school is technically a legitimate boarding school, offering fairly okay-quality education alongside the best training in the country all year, a lot of the students only attend for the ski season, unable or unwilling to fund a whole year.

Or maybe, Denali considers with a smile, nobody wants to live in the middle of nowhere, locked away in the mountains like a fucking yeti.

Michelle Visage, school director, emails Denali every year about working for them full-time, but every year Denali finds herself unable to leave Chicago behind. She loves her cozy city life, thank you very much. Living alone in her uptown apartment has yet to be beaten, even with the promise of the best skating facilities money can buy.

Half of the kids who attend don’t even realise how lucky they are, she finds herself thinking as her rental car starts the ascent to the school. It’s a long drive, the journey from Salt Lake to Bonneville is deliberately out of most peoples’ way, ensuring the cleanest snow and freshest powder for its plethora of skiers and snowboarders. She’d definitely have killed for something like this when she was still training.

The school is specialised, known for its premium winter sports programme raved about by former Olympians and their coaches. Everything is fully equipped, facilities and machines inside the camp always sparkling new and top of the line; huge dance studios with scary Russian ballet teachers to help her skaters achieve their best on the ice; big gyms and personal trainers; meals specially catered and designed to build muscle and strengthen bones.

It’s also really fucking expensive; Denali sees the checks on Michelle’s desk with their seemingly endless zeroes, given by mothers determined to boast that their little Sally went to Bonneville! But the elusive RuPaul, who Denali knows funds the school, but has never seen or heard much about, hands out plenty of scholarships to kids she deems talented and hard-working enough to thrive.

Denali’s car turns the corner, giving her a view of Bonneville’s ski slopes. She spots a couple of instructors already at the top of the chairlifts, riding down the mountain in neat lines as they enjoy the start of what’s looking to be a beautiful season. It’s still early, but it’s snowing heavily, Denali’s windscreen wipers working hard to keep the snowflakes off her windscreen.

As Denali pulls up to their entrance, she spots a couple of other employees hanging around outside, boisterous laughter coming from their conversations. They’re all old-timers, Denali is sure one or two of them have worked at the school since its opening in the late nineties.

She immediately spots the inky black mullet that belongs to Mik, one of the snowboarding coaches for the younger kids. She’s standing alone, narrow back pressed up against a red bricked wall as she smokes a cigarette, flicking ash off of the end into the thin layer of snow below her feet.

She gets out of her car, passing her keys over to the valet Michelle hires unnecessarily every year, always insisting, rather pointedly if you ask Denali, who seems to consistently be at the receiving end of the seemingly never-ending gripe, that she knows that someone’ll fuck up her parking arrangement, Denali.

It’s a fair point– Denali would never be bothered to follow Michelle’s colour-coordinated and meticulously planned spreadsheet, in which she’s grouped all the instructors of the same sport together in the carpark, as if it matters to anyone which spot they have.

The valet takes her bags too, which she’s perpetually grateful for; her suitcases are almost always overweight in the airport, despite taking three of her big ones with her. They’ll take them down to her room for her too, as if she’s staying in a nice hotel, not just a ridiculously boujee school.

Mik spots her, dropping the cigarette she was smoking and stubbing it against her chunky boots, jogging over to catch Denali in a tight hug. “Hey slut!”

Denali laughs, embracing her. “Nice to see you too, Mickey.”

Mik shrugs, letting her go with a smile. “You know you missed me, don’t even try it.” Denali rolls her eyes but can’t deny it, grinning when Mik wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“Denali Foxx!” Michelle greets her loudly, ticking her name off on a clipboard. “Usual room,” she says, fishing a key out of her pocket and passing it to Denali.

“Roomies!” Mik says, laughing with an eye-roll when Denali pretends to shover her fingers down her throat complete with exaggerated gagging sounds.

Denali’s always grateful to room with Mik, the rooms are a slightly awkward size– too big to stay in alone, a little too small for two people. Mik works at the school year round, and Denali knows she’s equally grateful to have someone to share with, forever complaining about how empty it feels when she’s by herself with two beds.

“Almost everyone else is already on the slopes,” Michelle notes, turning around so she can point out people on the mountain behind them. “You’ve got a couple days until the kids are allowed out, so better make the most of it.”

The school is laid out like a small village, boys on one side and girls on another, divided in almost everything except meals, which they have in the dining hall all together. The dorms are split into age, six buildings facing parallel to one another in a large U-shape, each with attached communal bathrooms and showers for the students. The buildings are all deliberately short so you can gape at Utah’s mountains practically anywhere on campus.

“I’ve been waiting for you to go out,” Mik says, grabbing Denali’s hand between her cold fingers, trying to drag her down the asphalt leading to the sports instructors’ rooming in the centre of the U.

The academics take place a couple miles down the road in a big building that actually looks like a school, which Michelle swears helps the students to stay focused, but Denali can’t say she’s totally convinced. She’s seen them get off the bus after school, racing one another to be the first in the chairlift queue.

“I really don’t want to go.” Denali whines, but lets Mik tug her down the path regardless. She’s not the best snowboarder even on her best days, and Mik always wants to take her down the especially mogul-ly runs, zipping in between trees and dodging ice patches that are still missing snow.

“Yes you do!” She says, practically skipping down the road. “There’s only a couple of us here anyways, and the kids aren’t allowed to carve up the snow yet– it’ll be fun!”

Denali rolls her eyes, with a sigh. “I’m only doing green runs!”

“Only red runs? Perfect!”

“No, fuck, come on Mik,” she huffs, her breath coming out in sharp puffs in the cold air. “I’m out of practice, this isn’t fair.”

Mik looks at her, shrugging her narrow shoulders, “how’s that my issue, gorge?”

She groans loudly as they approach the staff building, letting Mik lead the way to their room, unlocking the door with her own key.

Mik keeps their room uncharacteristically clean, especially in comparison to her wardrobe filled with clothes piled up on the bottom rather than on their hangers. Denali is pleased to see her blue suitcases on the side of the room Mik’s left for her, both her skating and snowboard boot bags by the end of her bed.

Mik talks aimlessly about the year so far as Denali changes out of her oversized shirt and equally oversized jeans combo. She rifles through her suitcases, half listening to the other girl, searching for her snow-pants and a hoodie, adhering to Mik’s advice to forgo her ski-jacket as it’s still early in the season and sunny enough, despite the snowfall.

She makes her help her lace up her boots properly, watching Mik’s skilled hands tightening them in record time. “Are you borrowing a board?” She asks.

“Mm,” Denali confirms, “are they ready?”

“You can literally borrow mine,” Mik squints up at her from her kneeling position, “we’re like, basically the same height.”

Denali scoffs at this, arching one of her dark eyebrows. “No fucking way am I borrowing one of yours, they’re all deathtraps.”

“They’re literally normal boards.”

“No, they’re all weirdly thin and flexible, I’ll literally break my neck.”

Mik frowns, “ok, first of all, rude. Second of all, I’ll have you know my boards are perfectly safe–”

“–did you or did you not snap one in half last year?”

“That was one time!”

“And that’s one time too many, doll.” Denali says, leaning down to tuck the laces into the tongue of her boot, pulling down her pants so they rest over the top. She reaches out a palm, helping Mik up from her kneeling position. “Get ready and I’ll meet you by the chairlift, okay?”

Mik rolls her eyes, reaching into Denali’s suitcase to attach her goggles to her helmet, passing it over with her gloves tucked neatly inside, as she would with her ten year-olds. Denali yells a thanks over her shoulder as she leaves, weaving her way out of their building to run down to their small ski shop.

☆☆☆☆☆

Humiliatingly enough, Mik makes Denali carry her snowboard with her on the chairlift, refusing to let her sit with one foot strapped in like a normal person would.

“You’re gonna knock your teeth out,” she laughs when Denali complains loudly about it. “Like fully splat, bitch.”

“I know how to ride a chairlift, thank you very much.” Denali grumbles, clutching her board tightly in her arms and sitting down. Mik reaches behind them, pulling down the safety bar, which Denali rests her feet on.

“Can’t have any casualties on day one, gorge.”

“The only casualty will be from me wringing your skinny little neck out when you push me down the mountain, you fucking bitch.” She groans, looking at the run below them.

There’s a pack of skiers weaving their way down tightly together under the poles of the lift. She can already see the deep valleys of moguls, even with her terrible eyesight. One of them looks up at their chair, waving at them with a grin.

Denali squints and she can see it’s Tayce, one of the newer instructors at the school. They had made fast friends last year, gossiping together about who hooked up with who over Thanksgiving– no, no, no, it’s clearly Brooklyn and Vanessa, they keep eyeing each other up–, which of their kids were likely to actually make the Olympic team– all of mine, thank you very much, Taycey–, who they might fuck given the chance– have you not seen A’Whora in the physio suite? I’d let her curb-stomp my neck– et cetera, et cetera.

“Everyone else is coming up tonight and tomorrow,” Mik remarks, waving over-exaggeratedly waving down to Tayce like she’s in a pantomime. “Tayce is like the only bitch I can stand here, as of currently”

“ As of currently? I’m here, as of currently! ”

“My point still stands, gorge.”

“After this run can you join up with them?” Denali groans, “Tayce’ll go super-speed with you. And she’ll let you harass her without breaking your nose.”

Mik laughs, “I don’t go that fast, bitch.”

“Have you ever seen that Disney movie Bolt ? Y’know the one with that dog who runs like, full speed of light? They could do a live-action version with you as the dog.”

“Woof!”

Denali’s face cracks into a grin as she rolls her eyes, “I’m serious! One minute you’re next to me, the next you’re–” she slides her gloved hands together in a forward motion “–zip . And then I’m the idiot who can’t get down.

“I’d never leave you!” Mik gasps, clapping a palm to her chest. “How dare you, fucking bitch.”

Denali scoffs loudly in response. Every year Mik tries to bully her into doing a couple runs together, and every year without fail Denali obliges, only to find herself stuck at the top of a mountain, Mik nowhere in sight.

“Head,” Mik announces, reminding Denali to duck her head so Mik can raise the safety bar, as they start to approach the end of the lift. Mik lines herself up to the drop-off, riding around the corner smoothly, giggling as Denali has to jog to keep up.

They both sit down to strap in, Mik tightening Denali’s bindings for her and pulling her up with a roll of her eyes.

“See you at the bottom?” Mik asks. Before Denali can answer, she’s slipped off, whooping as she hits a bump and flies upwards, grabbing the nose of her board as she hits the jump.

“So much for never leaving me, I guess,” Denali grumbles, carefully edging herself down the slopes with big sweeping S-shaped turns, she knows Mik will laugh at her about later, reminding her how her ten year-olds could easily out-board her.

Uh yeah, I’d fucking hope so, Denali thinks to herself, curving around onto the toe-edge of her board. Otherwise this’d be the biggest waste of money like, uh, ever.

The air that whips around her is cool, blowing snowflakes into her dark hair, but she doesn’t feel cold, happy in her thick sweatshirt and pants. Her feet are desperate to be unlatched from the board, feeling slightly unnatural to be locked in. She’s much more in her element spraying ice as she nails a complicated spin, she knows Mik would eat ass on.

Yeah, she thinks, fuck you and your ten year-olds, Mickey.

☆☆☆☆☆

“Michelle’s put the board up,” Tayce says in the late afternoon, sticking her head around Denali and Mik’s door propped open by a snowboard boot.

Denali looks up from the book she’s reading, comfortably curled up on her bed with her mandatory evening uniform of thick fluffy socks and sweats on. Mik, on the other hand, is still in her lycra leggings and hoodie, having made no effort to change since coming back, much to Denali’s disgust.

“Well?” Tayce asks in annoyance, cocking her hip, “you coming or what?”

Mik groans, rolling off of her bed and moving to stand next to Tayce in their doorway, bare feet on the cold linoleum. Denali carefully places her bookmark in her book, grabbing a pair of Nike slides– sponsored, thank you very much– and begrudgingly walking down the corridor to their big common room.

The Board– with an optional trademarked symbol from Mik– as it’s been aptly dubbed, is a large whiteboard divided neatly (by the increasingly anal Michelle) into a leaderboard. The top ten coaches are listed top to bottom, ordering the number of world title holders they’ve coached at Bonneville, bonus points being allotted to those whose kids win gold, and double points if the title being held was Olympian.

Michelle says it builds healthy competition. Denali says it builds a desire to Tonya Harding every other bitch in this place. Tomayto, tomahto.

Denali hadn’t even been on The Board, until she had returned three seasons ago with the last World Skating Championships under her belt, managing to land three podium spots. She proudly boasted for months to anyone that looked like they might listen that her girls had swept the categories, winning medals across the ladies’ single event, ice dance and pair skating.

Despite her allure of confidence, she knows she only made it up there because Michelle insists on starting fresh each year. She tries to tell them that she’s giving the new coaches a chance, but everyone knows it’s to keep egos in check.

Egos like mother-fucking Rosé McCorkell’s, who’s placed first on The Board two years running.

First as in one spot ahead of Denali’s second, first. First as in gloating in Denali’s face every opportunity she gets (and rest be assured, every opportunity means every opportunity ), first. First as in deliberately sabotaging Denali’s skaters, first– well, at least in Denali’s eyes.

Okay, whatever, yes it could have been a coincidence that one of her front runners’ sole came unglued from the attached blade on the morning of Nationals a year ago. And yeah, sure, maybe Rosé was like, several states away from the incident. And okay, yes, she still came in first after the whole thing, so it’s not it even really mattered after all. But Denali just knows Rosé had something to do with it, that bitch.

“Who’s on top of the pyramid this year?” Mik sing-songs when they approach The Board. Denali instinctively works her way through their photos from the bottom to the top, clapping Tayce lightly on the back when she sees her smack-dab in the centre.

She isn’t nervous; she knows she did well this year, the girls she had coached in the previous season competing in nationally-recognised competitions, pictures of them grinning up on their podiums, flowers in sequinned arms, emailed to her and the school. And it’s not even like it matters.

Her photo stands in line with another, both placed side-by-side at the top of the leaderboard. She can hear Mik mumble an oh shit, with a laugh as she realises that Denali is tied with Rosé at the top.

Okay, so maybe it matters a little bit.

Rosé’s photo looks down at her. She’s wearing her obnoxious signature pink ski jacket, her name embroidered into it in a sparkly silver thread. Her equally obnoxiouly signature curly pink hair has been tied up in a messy ponytail, and she stares at Denali with a big fucking grin on her face.

Denali wants to rip down the laminated photo, putting it into a paper shredder and watch as Rosé’s dumb face gets torn into ribbons.

“Healthy competition huh?” Tayce remarks, wrapping a long arm around Denali’s shoulders. “The cheek, the nerve, the audacity and the gumption, mama.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” A voice groans, Denali turns around and is met by the woman of the hour. Rosé looks her up and down, irritation flickering in her green eyes. “Stepping your shit up, this season ice princess?”

Denali arches an eyebrow in response. “Evidently, McCorkell.”

Rosé smiles at her, all pearly white teeth Denali is pretty sure are veneers– well, at least that’s the rumour she and Tayce started last year as a laugh.

All of a sudden, she feels like a shark’s prey, a minnow trapped inside the great white’s tank. Rosé doesn’t have to say anything for Denali to know that she’s going to be in for a tough season.

Better get that hammer ready, she thinks to herself, I am not the Nancy Kerrigan of this competition, bitch.

tags: rosé, denali foxx, gottmik, rosnali, rivals to lovers, coach au, figure skating au, skiing au, lesbian au, love is a dog from hell, mattels

show my blog ! <3