#Wednesday isn’t a day as much as it’s a mood

[mollywog]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @thelettersfromnoone!!

From When the Stars Align…

“Roses, really?” Peeta mutters under his breath.

Not softly enough because Odair hears him, “the flowers offend you?”

“Who sent them?”

Katniss plucks the card from the blooms, “Sir Crane.”

He scoffs, “just the unimaginative choice I’d expect from Seneca. Everyone sends roses,” he can tell by the slight upturn of her lips, Katniss agrees, though she stays silent.

“So what would you send?” Finnick queries.

Anyone who wants to share, join in!!

@endlessnightlock @waywardangel-wilds @goldenslumberowo @jhsgf82 @thesunpersists

[youraveragenicaddict]

Xavier Thorpe X  GN!Reader - Tied Up

A/N - I was listening to a Deftones playlist, and my mind went to very unholy places, so I decided to write it (I already posted a version of this, but I didn’t like it so I rewrote it) enjoy (if u want me to finish this then submit an ask lol)

Warnings - it gets heated but no actual smut

THE BOOK IS CALLED ‘’JAY WISEMAN’S EROTIC BONDAGE HANDBOOK’’

DEFTONES S3X PLAYLIST (THE PLAYLIST IS NOT MINE, I FOUND IT AND I LOVED IT OK? DON’T JUDGE ME)

Seeing your boyfriend in chains definitely did something to your brain, but given the circumstances it was in, you didn't want to say anything since it could have been a tad bit traumatic, so you decided on dropping a hint about what you wanted. A big hint.

You had ordered a book. The erotic kind, to be precise. Jay Wiseman's Erotic Bondage handbook to be even more precise. Being an Addams, you already knew the basics to an extent, but decided on reading further into it, so as not to hurt your boyfriend if he decided he was into that.

A week after ordering it, it arrived, and you read it in less than a day. It was pretty interesting, but more importantly, full of tips, how-tos, and safety precautions one had to take.

You couldn't just blatantly give it to him in the middle of the pentagon-shaped courtyard, so you decided to change the covers of the book to those of a poetry book you took from the school library. To be honest, you've never even read the book, but it would have to do.

So on one chilly Friday, when you had bought the ropes and everything you might need, you set out to find Xavier and set your little plan into motion.

While you were walking down the stairs, you ran into your sister, Wednesday, who was probably going to her dorm since it was her writing hour. ''Hey sis, what a lovely afternoon, isn't it?'' You asked her, unusually happy, which made her raise her brow in question. ''Hi, it will be a lovely afternoon when a thunderstorm appears. What has gotten you in such a weird mood? Is it that poetry book you're carrying?'' She said in her usual monotone voice while trying to sneak a peak inside the book. ''Maybe, maybe not, enjoy writing your murder novels, I have shit to do'' You grinned, while walking away, leaving her to question if it was the book or something else, you're not usually THIS cheery.

You found Xavier in the courtyard, painting something on its walls as usual. He didn't notice you standing behind him and jumped a little bit when you wrapped your arms around his torso with a ''hi love'' to accompany your actions. ''Oh hey, what's up?'' he asked, putting one of his hands over yours while continuing his work on the wall. ''What are you painting? Another ''tortured artist'' work?'' You questioned with a small smirk playing on your lips. ''Ha ha, very funny. You're never going to let me live that down, are you?'' He retorted in a mock serious voice, while he was quite obviously grinning as much as you were.

You unwrapped your arms and moved so you were standing next to him before you said in a smug voice, ''I got you something, don't open it in front of people, love. Read it, alright?'' You handed him the book, which he took after cleaning his paint-stained hands with a small towel. ''Poetry? Why can't I open it in front of people? Did you write a murder plan in there or something?'' He joked after taking a look at the book. ''You'll see,'' You stated, and before you left to do your own thing, you gave him a quick kiss on the lips and sent him a wink, walking away. Curious as to what was so important about the book, he opened the first page, in which he found a note in your handwriting, '' When you read this and have decided if you're into it, find me in my dorm :))''. He took off the sticky note and looked at the title, which made him slightly blush since it read ''Jay Wiseman's Erotic Bondage Handbook''. He quickly shut the book and decided that he'll read it after he finished the painting. Xavier was intrigued, to say the least. Of course, you'd be into that, he thought with a slight chuckle.

It was very convenient since you didn't have a roommate and had a queen-sized bed with a metal headboard. You definitely didn't expect to see Xavier standing in your room that evening, dressed in grey sweatpants and one of your Metallica t-shirts.

''Hey, you.'' You said, walking to him and giving him a hello kiss. He instinctively wrapped his arms around your waist. It looked like he was contemplating something, so you raised your brow in a questioning manner. You didn't even get to ask what was bothering him when he responded with a yes.

You had a confused look on your face when he let go of you and went to your bed to find something he had put there earlier. Xavier raised the disguised handbook and then handed it to you. ''Open it,'' He said. He ran a hand through his hair and sat down on your bed, waiting.

You opened the book and found your note inside, but in addition to the original one, you found a ''yes'' scribbled under your text. You smiled, closed the book, and put it on your desk before going to sit beside him. ''Are you sure?'' You asked while moving strands of hair that had fallen into his face behind his ear. ''Yeah, I thought about it, and since you know what you're doing, at least I hope so,'' he chuckled while you grinned at him, '' I'm open to trying it.'' You didn't need any other confirmation. You smashed your lips onto his in a heated kiss, while he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him. Testing the water, you lightly bit down on Xavier's lower lip. You could feel he was fighting against the noises that were creeping their way out of his throat. ''Wait, I forgot to lock the door, shit,'' He exaggeratedly whined when you got up, and let his back fall against the soft mattres of your bed. You quickly locked the door, checked that it was really locked, and turned on some music. Xavier recognized the playlist immediately, and he'd be lying if he said that it didn't turn him on. Before going back to him, you rummaged through your closet and pulled out a box in which the ropes you had previously bought were in. Xavier was watching your every move and you could feel his lustful gaze.

You carelessly dropped the ropes on your bed and got yourself comfortable in Xavier's lap. He raised his body to meet yours and kissed you again, this time it was a lot more passionate. Your mouth slowly opened up, enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours. He didn’t notice it, but you had placed a hand on his neck, slowly moving it upward to grab a fistful of his hair and roughly pull on it. Xavier couldn't contain himself anymore and let out a low moan.

You smiled into the kiss and let your hands wander lower down his body, to the hem of the shirt, your shirt, that he'd been wearing, and helped him out of it. He let out a groan as the cold night air collided with his naked torso. You instructed him to move up against the headboard. Before you did anything, you reminded him of the safe words, green for go, yellow for pause, and red for immediate stopping.

After making sure he was comfortable, and you had scissors on your nightstand, you began to tie up his hands with the soft rope, carefully, not to restrict blood flow. While you were focused on the task at hand, Xavier began placing kisses on your neck. You yanked his hands back to tie them to the headboard, making his back hit the mattress again. He was slightly panting, his eyes full of want and need. You admired the sight before you, it wasn't a thing you see every day, but you already had the picture engraved in your mind. You lowered your head so you could kiss him again, your lips moving in sync. When you lifted your head, he whined at the loss of contact, but you were already moving lower, starting to attack his neck with hickeys that would be visible for a week at least. Xavier moaned softly when you found that one spot that felt the best and continued your work there. You were so caught up in the moment you almost didn't hear the two knocks on your door. You chose to ignore them, hoping the person would go away, but they didn't and continued knocking. ''For fucks sake,'' you whispered, annoyed at whoever was standing outside your dorm. What made you freeze in your place was the new principal's voice.

''Turn that music down. I have received complaints about the noise from other students,'' She tried to shout over the Deftones song playing in the background. You cleared your throat and yelled '' Sorry, I'll turn it down.'' ''You better, and if I hear another complaint about it, I'll make sure you can't play that music at all.'' She hollered, irritated since it wasn't the first time you'd done this.

You made your way to the speaker and turned the music down a little bit, so it wasn't too loud, but loud enough. ''Now, where were we?'' You turned to Xavier, still tied up on your bed, watching you, lips slightly parted, waiting for your next move.

[deadlynavigation]

Hello again! how are you? I hope your well, I wanted to give you another request about Male Wednesday, if it's not too much to ask, can you make an NSFW alphabet and an scenario (nsfw too) for Male Wednesday? I hope my order doesn't bother you or be strange... I'll wait for you!

NSFW Alphabet: W.A.

Warnings: mentions of: smut, obviously. knives to the throat, choking, necks snapping, temp play, blindfolds, graves, limping, edging, basically Wednesday Addams.

Author’s Note: thank you for the request babe! and your patience 😭 this is my halloween treat for you guys, hope yall enjoy. i was also thinking of adding a taglist- would anyone be interested in that? lmk

Wednesday is once again aged up, same as previous fics if not a little older.

Navigation

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Wednesday would be pretty standoffish after sex. He’s new to the whole emotional intimacy thing, and it’s going to take a couple tries before he perfects it. After a few minutes of brooding, though, he’ll shower you in affection. Baths, massages, kisses, whatever you want from him. Princess treatment.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His neck is by far his favorite part of himself. He’s not a vain person - he has better things to focus on. But he is in shape and dammit if his neck doesn’t clearly display that. Wednesday loves how his neck could end his life at any moment, especially when you choke him.

On you, your legs are by far his favorite. They’re absolutely beautiful. He can drag his hands up your leg and feel the goosebumps form, your breath hitching.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside or on your stomach. There’s no in-between. He likes the feeling of marking his territory, even though he belongs to you more than you could ever belong to him. The feeling of total connection is nice too. And if he finishes on your stomach, he loves to look down at the reminder of what you do to him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Hold a knife to his neck. Do it. This man will get so turned on. The fact that he’s with such a deadly woman? Who’s not afraid to handle a weapon? In the bedroom? Wednesday could cum with that knowledge alone.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Wednesday is kind of experienced. He was socially awkward as a teen and into young adulthood, so he missed out on a lot of opportunities. But as an adult, he built up his portfolio enough to know how to make you see stars.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

There are only a couple positions Wednesday isn’t okay with - if you bring a new one up, he’s mostly down to do it. He does have preferences, though. You riding him will never get old. He has the perfect view from below, taking in every expression and sigh. It also takes any expectations off of him, leaving the bulk of the work for someone else. Don’t worry, he’ll make it up to you later 😏

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Wednesday isn’t a fan of humor in daily life, and you can bet that translates into the bedroom. He doesn’t lack all sense of emotion, though. He transforms into a simp in every sense of the word once his back hits the bedsheets, making comments every so often simply to bring a smile to your face. Overall very serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s not just rich, he’s hygenic. Wednesday definitely has a studio booked at least twice a month for simple care down there, just to keep everything in check. He knows you love his cleanliness too, so he keeps it up.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It depends on the day. If Wednesday had gotten off from a long day of work and is in a bad mood, it’s fast and aggressive and not intimate in the least. But if he’s content with the day and in a somewhat calm mood, you’d best believe his eyes will make you melt in the middle of getting eaten out.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Wednesday prefers not to. Why would he when there are so many other things to do? But if he’s feeling really desperate, or if you’ve been on a trip for the past couple days, he’ll bang out a quickie just to relieve the tension. It doesn’t mean anything if you aren’t there, in his opinion.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

We’ve already talked about the knives, but that’s just scraping the surface. He’d be into temperature play, especially with half-melted candles, enjoying the way you recoil ever so slightly before arching into the warmth. The blindfold would be a big hit too, a mockup of a silent grave.

L = Location (favorite places to do the dirty)

The bedroom is the preferred area for him, but he’s more than willing to change it up. Has done and will do it in the graveyard for some adventure, but a dark bathtub is an instant spark of intimacy for him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

If you pick up any weapon whatsoever and show that you know your way around it, he’s bricked. Your body draped in lingerie is a turn on too - he appreciates fine craftsmanship.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Any sort of sharing is a no. You are his, and he is yours, and to him, that is sacred.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Wednesday is a giver in every sense of the word. He loves looking up at you from between your thighs, letting out a slow moan and watching you squirm. He doesn’t really go for receiving, but if you’re offering, he won’t refuse.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Again, depends on your moods. A bad mood generally means a quick release of rage, and a good mood means slow, peaceful lovemaking. He’s down to switch it up depending on what you’re both looking for that day though.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves them - they serve their purpose well enough. Wednesday likes to take his time with you, but he’ll never say no to having you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Sometimes he’s open to taking risks, but not often. He tends to stick to the classics, what he knows works. He wants to please and be pleased, and anything that comes in the way of that (like a failed risk) is merely a disposable burden.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Wednesday is the type of man to have so much control over his stamina that it makes you question his mental state. Seriously, if he has his way with you, you won’t be able to walk for days because of the sheer amount of rounds he carries you through. He likes having that control over himself, and isn’t afraid to use it to the fullest.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Nope. Toys are something he avoids; they just aren’t appealing to him. You’re more than enough for him, and he makes that known every time you bring it up.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Teasing is popular with you guys. Especially if either one has provoked the other. You flirted with someone else, and checked to make sure he was watching? You playfully avoided him, only sparing light touches to his chest? He can and will drag one singular orgasm out for hours.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Wednesday isn’t afraid to express himself, and this shows in bed. Soft moans will fall from his lips, as well as slurred words of encouragement. He doesn’t see a reason to hide the enjoyment that you caused.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

“Proud of yourself?” You call over your shoulder as you limp towards the closet.

“Very,” Wednesday replies as he watches early morning light paint your body. He’s relaxed against the bed frame, a smirk slightly tilting his swollen lips.

“Wednesday.” You reply sternly. There’s no way you’re getting dressed for the day with what your lover did to you last night; at least, not without help.

“I’m coming, cara mia.” Wednesday chuckles as he lifts himself from the bed and towards where you have parked yourself. He leans down to you, his mouth positioned just over your ears. “Where do you need me?”

Your heart stutters, his voice echoing in your mind. God, how you want this man. “Too early for seduction. I need a shirt.” You mumble before you end up even more sore than you already are.

Wednesday laughs softly before grabbing your waist and guiding you back to the bed. “I beg to differ, dove.”

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Wednesday is packing. Full-on, grazing your cervix, causing a little bump in your belly, rendering your legs useless. You almost fainted the first time you saw his cock, to be completely honest. He knows exactly how big he is and how that affects you, too, and that’s the infuriating part: he knows exactly what to say about it to get you worked up.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Normally, his drive is pretty average. But whenever you are around him, his drive peaks, and he is desperate for you whenever you want to have him. He can hold his ground though and pretend he has no interest in having sex if he wants to tease, though.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards

Wednesday wouldn’t even think about sleeping before you’re taken care of and drifting off. But after that, he’s out like a light. The physical exertion and emotional intimacy exhausts him, but once he’s gotten a good amount of sleep and a wake-up call with your kisses, he’s ready to do it all over again.

[bitchlessdino]

mood rings, drive thru theaters, and the latest issue of tiger beat (m)

Pairing: chan x college student!reader (afab) Genre: angst, smut, fluff Word count: 6.9k tags: SVTHUB COLLAB, set in the 70s, plot twist with dark ending (possibly triggering to some), pwithplot, tutor!reader, busty!reader, pining, brief mention of religion, mention of recreational drugs, mention of death, mention of medicine and medical practice, mention of tragedy (car crash), breeding kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex, couch sex, handjob cream pies, dirty talk. Summary: when you fall in love, it can feel like you’ll be with that person forever, that there isn’t another being in the world you rather be with. This case is just as heavy in your youth, tutoring a boy you’ve only ever walked circles around, while you wear a mood ring from his parents souvenir shop so you could feel closer to him. When it happens, you don’t expect things to crash harder than the way they do. author note: she's here!!! i might reedit later but i wanted to get this out before i changed my mind about the plot again so enjoy and check out the rest of the collab!!!!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun

Falling in love in the seventies wasn’t easy. You didn’t have mobile phones or text messaging, hell, you were lucky if you had email. Most people didn’t. That’s what made it so much harder to be a person stricken in love. All you had was paper, a pen, and the possibility of hearing something through your home landline.

Every day you would wait for the confirmation call he’d be coming. He was one of the polite ones. You were grateful to have formally met him through the tutoring program held in college and you look forward to that phone call and the weekly meetings every Tuesday and Wednesday to go over organic chemistry. Somewhere in that mix, you had hoped to find your own chemistry with him despite knowing how selfish that’d be.

You’d never admit it loud but you had the classic high school pining back when you attended the same classes in the same town. He was a sweetheart then just like he was a sweetheart now and you longed for him like any other teenager. He had you doodling combinations of your names together in a worn out notebook and cherishing an item you secretly associated with only him. Yours was a mood ring.

In the summer of 74’, a new souvenir shop had just opened around the block after countless failed businesses by previous owners. This shop was owned by the Lees, a cute mom-and-dad duo that was sweeter than any cream-filled Twinkee. There was not a thing intimidating about them. They seemed like good people. What you weren’t ready for was their son working the register that day.

What was it about a man in wide leg jeans and a tight fitted shirt that made you want to physically fall to your knees?

At the time, he was wiping a glass candy tray rather meticulously. He has only greeted whoever came in without looking, too focused on getting every dust particle out of every crevice, so he didn’t notice how you found him to be the most interesting sight you’ve seen.

His smile when seeing the swell job he’s done was priceless compared to every piece of merchandise in the store. If there was a chance you could bottle up and take it away for keeps, you would. You would tell the local newspaper this store would be a new world wonder just from this boy alone. 

You had to pinch yourself to finally pull your eyes away from him, scanning for something, anything, interesting enough to purchase and ring it up with him. Finally, your eyes land on something colorful, ever-changing, and wearable.

“Will that be all for today?”

You nodded, holding back a wide grin as you watched him run through your purchase. His smile never faltered in front of you, and for some reason, it made you feel special, despite the assumption he probably smiled in front of anyone who came in. Still, it made an impression.

“That’ll be a dollar please and since you’re a new customer,” he picked something from a box behind the counter, “a pack of now and laters for the road. You can have one now and another later. They’re great.”

God, he’s cute.

You mused at him, accepting the ring and freebie after paying him up front. “Thank you.”

“Have a great day. Catch you on the flip side!”

You waved back at him on your exit, immediately regretting not staying longer to chat. As expected, your mind went blank the second he spoke to you, and the moment you were alone, you slid on the mood ring on your ring finger and focused all of your energy on thinking about the questions you could’ve asked. For him, that was like any interaction, but for you, it’ll be a core memory. 

It was throughout the years you realized that you’d be attending the same high school, sharing the same senior year, experiencing the same last year festivities, but despite the many opportunities, you never had an encounter like that with him again. You’d pass by that souvenir shop countless times, glancing at him while he worked every shift, but cowardly never approached him again. Not with the lack of trying, of course, your adolescent self was too busy to find a way to make him fall in love with you according to whatever you read in Tiger Beat.

You remember flipping through it, back and forth, momentarily distracted by the boyish charm of David Cassidy, and then going back to reread it in case you missed something. This had been your adolescent bible to understand whatever was on trend because only God knew you needed it. Somedays, you’d pretend you were talking with him through your magazine posters. Now that was a face deserving to be in magazines.

“You’re still thinking about that boy? Just talk to him already.”

Even your closest friend, Stacey, couldn't get your head out of the clouds. 

You adamantly shook your head, the magazine clung to your chest. “No, absolutely not. Me talking to him wouldn’t even happen in my dreams. In fact, I’d probably have to pay admission to see him in my dreams.”

She rolled her eyes, letting you get back to whatever exactly you were doing. “Okay, drama queen. We get it. You like a boy.”

She was used to this at that point and it’d be all the same. You never outgrew it entering colleges either, the same one he happened to attend, which you couldn’t have been more stoked to find out. “He’s not just any boy, Stacey. he’s the boy. He’s so far out. I can’t even fathom his existence.”

You were in fact exaggerating, but at the ripe age of 18 all of it felt sincere and you truly did believe it was all true.

And to think you hadn’t formally met him yet until you started participating as a tutor in a peer help program at your University. You didn’t expect much of it, only thinking of collecting some community hours and hopefully maintaining a good reputation with your professors and there he was, like fate. There he should, hair coifed in intentional pristine, a loosely buttoned vibrant green shirt, and familiar tightly fitted pants that flared from the bottom. 

Your breathing seized, stunned by the sheer fact you have stood this close to him since the first time your eyes laid on him. When he turned to you, he didn’t seem to notice your reluctance to walk closer as he strode confidently in your direction. 

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Lee Chan. You're my tutor, right?”

Your heart sounded like a metronome at the highest speed at this point, taking your breathing in little by little, timidly returning him with your own introduction. Safe to say, you were both scared out of your mind, yet excited about this turn of events. Though, if you thought about it too hard, you had the chance of rendering tutorship useless and then it’s farewell to Chan.

That’s when you made the executive decision to omit him from your head during these sessions and treat him like any other peer needing help, as you initially intended with anyone you were assigned. If you wanted to continue these sessions and help out Chan, you needed to do more than think about what your future looked like together with 2.5 kids and a big picket fence.

You picked up a polite smile and settled in at a table, flipping a textbook to the first chapter of the course. Fortunately, he followed just as any other person struggling in chemistry and attempted to keep up with the lesson plan. As expected, you’d stumble over many of your teachings, forgetting some of the information yourself and having to refer to the book due to the blinding glow of your student, but as time passed, things eventually were more tolerable.

It was a few months later found an easier medium of being infatuated with the young man but helpful enough to pass the assignments in the above-average percentage. He just happened to be a good student that required more patience. Somewhat, it made you warm to learn that about him, including the fact he was good at listening, or how his eyes lit up picking up a lesson and recalling from memory. However, you kept this situation mostly professional, avoiding social interactions that would take away from your role. That was until Chan found comfort in spending time with you, having a sense of gratitude much grander than anyone teaching him Aldol reactions or valence electrons.

You could feel his soft gaze as you outlined something on his study sheet, emphasizing its importance since it’s appearing in the final he’d be taking eventually. If this were you back in the days of learning his name for the first time and thinking about him every waking second, you’d faint right about now. You’d be lying right now if you said you didn’t feel dizzy from the heat of his presence, but as you have been for the time spent together in the library, you’ve trained yourself to ignore it while mastering to subdue your intrusive thoughts.

Chan somehow found a way around that.

“Oh, your ring. Looks like the one in my parents' shop.”

You momentarily glanced back at the trinket before zone backing into today’s lesson, awkwardly chuckling to yourself. “Oh. Ha ha, that’s because it is.”

His eyes lit up the way they do, a cartoonish gleam in his eyes. “Really? I think I’d remember seeing you.”

“It was once a really long time ago.”

“Well, you should visit again. I can give you a good discount. We just got a big shipment of pop rocks.”

“Okay, sure.” You smiled, internally giggling at the thought of Chan entertaining himself with explosive candy and sharing it with you like the coolest treasure. “Alright. Organic compounds—“

“We really met before?” He interrupted.

“It really was so long ago. I’d be surprised if you did remember.”

“Well, I feel bad. I feel like there’s time it should be making up.”

You waved it off, not minding the now teary expression of guilt on his face. “It’s fine, Chan.”

“How about we go and watch a movie? I think the drive thru is replaying ‘The Godfather’. You should come with me.”

“Really? I don’t know.”

“Come on, consider it a thanks. You don’t even get paid for all the time you’ve spent teaching me.”

“No, but I get community hours. Speaking of teaching.” He placed his hand over yours, cuffing off the words caught in your throat. You find yourself helpless at the sweat pleas of Chan who works the cute angle all too well as he scooted closer to you. “I don’t think I can rest knowing I haven’t found a way to thank you. You’ve been tutoring me for 4 months. The least I can do is take you out.”

You’re a bit stunned, your leg already shaking in nerves as you never expected such a proposal to easily leave his lips and for you nonetheless. You exhaled, mustering the courage to meet his eyes before nothing, pressing your lips to discourage an all too gleeful smile. “Fine. We’ll watch ‘The Godfather’.”

He let you go, beaming, and tracking his pencil tracking over his notebook filled with chicken scratch that was comprehensible to him. “Good, I can pick you up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated before gluing his eyes back on the textbook, a noticeable hue of peak creeping up the back of his neck. “So, organic compounds...”

This arrangement was all you could think about until the day of, reading and rereading your magazines for possible outfit ideas, dating tips, and anything with the potential of making the best of this nerve-wracking situation.

On the day of, you got in your best get up just in time for the meetup. Anxiously, you turned your mood ring around your finger as you waited by the door, contemplating to yourself if what you chose was the right course of action. When the knock came, you came swinging the door open and pinched yourself from swooning seeing him in casual attire, including jeans that hugged his hips just right.

Chan, on the other hand, didn’t hide his emotions. Bright and animated, you grew hot under his watch, fiddling with the mood ring now on your middle finger and seeing it glare back a yellowish orange, indicating how nervous you really were. He took cautious steps towards you, mouth falling in awe, and he tugged at his band tee, which now felt lackluster compared to what his eyes were now seeing. “You look really good. I feel underdressed.”

“No, no,” you said, shaking your head and stepping down from the porch. “I just threw something on.”

“Well,” he offered an elbow, “shall we?”

You accepted his offer and hooked it through, hiding your elation. “Of course.”

He escorted you to the car and guided you to the passenger seat before closing the door, allowing you a moment to swallow the spaciousness of his station wagon before heading off to the theater. 

Cars beside cars, people neither mingling, making out, or taking advantage of the concession stands with 25-cent popcorn and pop. The sun was in the process of setting before it became a violet hue and eventually pitch black, perfect for movies. You got out of the car and smoothed out the wrinkles of your outfit, taking another deep breath.

You only had a fleeting second seeing him come out from the driver's seat, a smile settling on his face for what felt like you and only you.

Then came the hoard. Voices calling out Chan’s name, boys and girls his age gathered around him, offering his gregarious greetings and rowdy conversation. They hounded him with hugs, not minding you who stood off from the side behind the cat. Your expression dropped, starting from your smile before spreading over your body language. Chan, remembering your existence, tugged you from the hood and brought you to his side. He briefly introduced you as his tutor, and you did your best to greet them back just as politely.

They nodded at you, sly faces towards Chan as if you wouldn’t notice, and then came their bombarding again, only this time in your presence. You kept up the calm facade, only laughing when necessary before turning to the person who brought you here. “Nice to meet you all. Hey, Chan. I’m gonna get some snacks.”

“Okay. I’ll be here.”

You didn’t let the disappointment show on your face as you walked away but let it fall free as your back was towards the group. You hear their teasing and playful banter, questioning if you’re really just his tutor and Chan confirming, leaving no implication for anything else. You crossed your arms in embarrassment, already regretting letting this situation occur, imagining the worst scenarios to come.

You quietly asked for popcorn and a grape pop, greeted with your refreshments a few moments later, along with a box of raisinets. Your lips parted in confusion. “Oh, I didn’t order these.”

“On the house,” the guy winked, leaning over the counter a little too close for comfort, “a secret promotion for cuties like yourself.”

“Ah,” you gave him a tight-lipped grin, visibly distancing yourself, “thanks.”

“You know, I can always sneak away from my post for little liplock in—“

“Hey, you doing alright? I was worried about you.” You didn’t have to look to know. His body came crashing into yours. An arm slung over your shoulder, an action almost as natural as breathing. “Do you have enough?”

Your eyes flickered toward Chan who came to your rescue, nodding curtly. “Huh? Y-yeah.”

Chan met the seller's eyes before accepting your purchase for you, handing you over only the popcorn. You stared at the box of raisinets before he tugged you away from the stand.

“I did good, right? I’ve been told that guy’s a creep. I didn’t know he worked here.” His whisper sent chills through your body, yet burned your ears. You could feel the fanning of his breath, tickling your skin and raising every hair in your body.

“Me neither.”

“He’s not a good guy. You see him around, walk in the other direction ok?”

You nodded, taking his advice into serious thought. “Thanks, Chan.”

When it’s clear you’re out of sight, he parted from you, keeping his hands down his pockets, visibly apologetic. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable with that. He just won’t let it go unless he finds out you have a boyfriend or something.”

“Mmh-hmm.”

“Let’s get back to the others, hmm?”

You spent most of the night with Chan and his friends. Some laughed at how cheesy the movie was or actually scared of what was actually occurring (Chan was a mix between the two). You’d enjoy it more if you weren’t a bit bothered by the circumstances. All you could was glance in Chan's direction while he smiled and laughed along with his friends. Even though you were sitting next to him in the same car hood, you never felt further away. Every direction tonight felt like a punch in the gut, having only spoken to him before the movie started. At this point, you felt as if you had no place here, blinking away the humiliation tears threatening to fall.

“I’m a little cold. so I’m gonna finish the movie in the car.”

Finally, his eyes landed on you, “What?”

You slid off the hood and dusted yourself. Chan followed behind you confused before seating himself inside the car with you, a worried expression on his face. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course not.” You splayed a less genuine smile, raising your cheekbones for good measure, but seeing its failure to convince otherwise.

“That means I did do something wrong,” he said, smiling bitterly. “Sorry. I’m not the best at picking up cues.”

“I told you, Chan. I just got cold.”

He sighed and turned to reach for something behind, pulling over something thick and warm over your body, covering your torso and legs. “Here. So you won’t catch anything.”

There’s that familiar clang to your heart you should be used to by now, following the marching band that typically arrives after inside your chest. “Thank you.”

You both sat in silence for a bit, continuing to watch the rest of the movie. He makes so attempt to communicate with his friends outside and he doesn’t smile, only focusing on the movie, insistent on being in your presence. You aren’t sure how to behave, fingers inching at lingering awkwardness.

“If I’m being honest,” You started saying, filling the charged air with something other than tension, “I didn’t expect to see that many people with us.”

“You didn’t?”

You shook your head. “I misunderstood all on my own. Don’t worry about it. Let’s just finish the movie.”

“Hey—“

“I’m feeling warmer already,” You said, grinning as yourself deeper into the blanket.

Your eyes were ready to train back in the movie before he spoke again, hearing a tone in his voice you weren’t all that familiar with. “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable alone with me. I guess I did anyway.”

Guilt festered in the out of your stomach, regretting making a big scene out of nothing. “That’s not—“

“I got scared,” he admitted, the corner of his lips quirking up in a self-loathing grin. “They already saw my tickets so they thought they would get some too. Make it a group thing. I didn’t want it initially, but I thought, maybe it’d make things easier…I should’ve run it by you.”

You met his eyes, earnest yet soft. You didn’t know how to respond to any of this, processing his confession slowly. A fit of emotions wash over him and you see now the inner conflict that he had dealt with, somehow washing you over with relief. The final deep exhale you let out was solace, thinking to yourself how situations like this only happen in movies and books. You’re warm all over, an overwhelming urge to reach over and hug him, a fellow rambling mess.

“You didn’t misunderstand anything. I did want to go to the movies with you, but I wasn’t sure if you felt pressure or—“

You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his. He stiffened under your touch, blinking back at you like a lost child. You smiled back at him from ear to ear and body leaned over on his side. “Just hold my hand. We’re not going to cause any more misunderstandings. Okay?”

He matched you, his pearly whites staring back at you as pretty as ever. “Okay.” His thumb caressed over your fingers, noticing something interesting as he did so. “It’s purple.”

“Hmm,” You looked down at your clasped hands, noticing that same thing he did: your mood ring in a solid rich purple. “It is.”

“Do you remember what purple means?”

You avoid edhis eyes, quietly laughing to yourself. “You know better than anyone.”

“I do.” He tightened his grip, head leaning against your shoulder and it felt as if time had stopped. You don’t doubt that he can hear your heart racing right or your uneven breathing. He turned the ring around your digit, watching how the colors periodically shift. “I won’t let there be any more misunderstandings.”

Since that incident, you went about your tutoring sessions as normal, with the additional intimacy that didn’t exist before. You both gradually developed these sessions into more study dates and then they became real dates. Things only became official when the semester finally ended and he continued wanting to see you, visiting your place whenever you got the chance using any possible excuse.

You could remember how happy you felt at the time. The relief there was to know he liked you back. It was almost as if you were living a dream. A damn perfect dream.

Then your first kiss came around. You were as nervous as anyone anticipating the first. Every doubt in the past didn’t matter, only now did. Everything all led up to this point. It just happened in the way you least expected it to.

You didn’t know why he insisted on teaching you how to play arcade games when he was just as bad. Still, it was cute seeing him try so hard. The firmness of his back followed your movement, guiding you to the right combos, shifting the joystick to move in the right direction, and although it was all wrong, you appreciated the back hug you were getting in return. Even the claw machine had to be a teaching lesson, insisting he had something to teach you. 

“I did it. Chan, I did it!” You saw the stuffed dinosaur grabbed by the metal prongs, dropping right into the winner’s slot. You bounced on your feet cheering and took Chan along with you, hugging him tightly as your inner child healed and squealed at your achievement.

“I knew you could! You’re amazing.” His strong arms came around you firmly, pressing you against the glass of the machine.

Your breath was seized, replaced with weightlessness and tension in your chest that doesn’t seem to want to leave and perhaps you didn’t want it to. Although he didn’t pull away from the embrace, he parted far enough to meet your eyes and the longing in them. He knew what it was because that’s what was in his eyes, falling into their trance like a lucid dream that had him higher than any recreational drug. Neither one of you was willing to let it go, so all you do is stare. Stare at each other like you’re in your own world and no one else’s. As if life as you know it ceased to exist except for you and Chan. Nothing else matters.

When it felt as if you could imagine a more perfect moment, he leaned in with closed eyes, finding your lips like they were a second home and stealing your breath. You thought to lean in to kiss him deeper, but he already had found his grasp and pressed into you closer against the glass, feeling every ounce of muscle and shape of his body beneath his clothes. His shallow breath against yours, his hug of lips pulling at your bottom lip, and he emitted a soft grunt.

He pulled away from you with his arms still wrapped around your sides, shocked by his impulsivity. He stroked the side of your head, scanning for any fear in your eyes, slightly relieved to see any in sight. “I’m sorry. That was…a lot, huh?”

You shook your head reassuringly. “No.”

“Then I can kiss you again?”

The corners of your lips turned up, gripping his jean jacket to pull him closer. “Yes.”

You were kissing for hours that day and the next day, and then again the day after. Since then, something has shifted and these teenage dreams turned reality into something less family friendly. Your nights in his dorm became more frequent, more intimate, and always backed by a melody thanks to a record player gifted to him by his dad when he moved out. His prized possession, besides you anyway, as he claimed.

“What do you want to be when you’re older,” he asked, dragging his digits in and out between yours. He smiled, noticing your mood ring turning a mix of pink and purple before kissing your knuckles. “You know I want to be a nurse. What’s your dream?”

In the background was Led Zeppelin, their intoxically addictive tune spinning on the table. You thought to yourself a bit before turning your head back up at him, nuzzling closer into his warm touch before answering. “I want…to be surrounded by the people I love.”

He laughed like he heard the sweetest thing on planet Earth before his fingers threaded through your hair. “Baby, that’s sweet but not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant, but it’s what I want. It doesn’t matter much what I do, as long as I’m with my loved ones.”

“Am I one of these loved ones? Do you love me?” 

“Yeah. I love you.” You didn’t even hesitate, the words were always on the tip of your tongue until that final push. You lifted alight above him to repeat yourself louder. You let him heed your words. “I think I really love you.”

You thought he’d react differently, more scared and unsure but—“I love you too.”

“Chan,” you smile, warm filling your inside as you let your breath chase away the race in your chest.

“I mean it.” He bent his head down to meet your lips, cupping your cheek with the warmth of his palm. “I really, really love you.”

Chan toppled over you, lips meeting yours repeatedly in a heated frenzy, caressing your body and holding you desperately against him as you did the same to him. He kept you between his legs, whispering it over and over, ‘I love you, I love you,’ blistering and marking your skin. How was it that made you feel as if you weren’t allowed to breathe? 

Before you realize it, clothes started coming off. Piece by piece. As ‘Babe I’m gonna leave you’ replayed, shirts, belt, pants, and everything underneath fell to the ground. You saw him. You saw all of him. And he saw all of you. Your instinct was to shield away, be conscious of your then and there but in his own way, he reassures you, speaking to you as though all his words were nothing but the earnest truth. “I’m here. You’ll never have to worry about me not being here. I love you so much.”

Your flesh spilled through his fingers, imprinting his hands through your nude. Sounds of worship leaving his lips between every kiss, not even the worry of lack of condoms could stop him. Your thighs were glued to his hips, and you felt the warmth of his length titter to your fresh heat. You moaned every time you met lips, every bite he gave to your skin, and every full twist his fingers made with your sensitive buds before filling the inside of his oral cavity of your full breast.

You ached to have him in you, hand barely reaching his girth before wrapping a tight wrist around him. He shuddered at your touch, thrusting through the circle of your palm. You felt the need in his movement as he grinded down on his couch, not minding the wool burn inevitable to be left behind. Weak chuckles escaped his lips and he flashed you a smile, seconds away from melting into helpless groans. “You know just how to handle me…”

“Only because you treat me so well.”

Kissing one breast and then the other, he reached your lips as he held your thighs against the sides of his torso. “And I’ll do it for as long as I’m alive.”

You looped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself against him, his warm breath tickling the tip of your nose. “Make love to me. I wanna feel you inside me.”

“Then I won’t wait a second longer.”

The moment you felt him inside you, you felt higher than anything you could find in a blunt offered by the shady next-door neighbor. You buckled into him, lifting your hips off the couch for a fully bloomed taste. The stretch he left had your jaw falling, clutching to his shoulder, and letting out exasperated breaths. You nearly choked on your own spit that had only forced it down when he picked up the pace.

You molten walls only sucked him in deeper, calling his name in blurred whines. Each thrust and each kiss was fueled by an undying passion. He carried you, palm to your back and your legs around his waist, and pulled you on top of him. From beneath you, he drilled your insides, meeting your longing expression. 

Your fingers draped over his face, and you held on to his blissful expression that occasionally dropped in anguish when chasing after his rhythm. You whined his name desperately, clinging to him as you dug down your hips down his lap. He moaned louder than before, gingerly cupping your breasts and finding your stiff nipples between his fingers.

“You feel so good taking me…and your tits are so soft and warm.” He pushed himself to thrust hard, pleased with how easily you easily bounced against him, watching your flesh moving loud and fluidly like water. “You’re so perfect to hold, and love, and fuck my dick into—shit.”

Your chest rose and fell catching up with his efforts. “Chan, I love you so much.”

“I love you too. So, so, so—fuck!”

You felt his grip grow tighter and saw his jaw drop lower. His legs clenched to your sides impulsively, unwilling to let go. Soon enough, he couldn’t take it anymore and came inside you. He looked as if everything in his brain told him not to, but it seemed that nothing could stop the geyser within him from coating your insides with hot ivory. He snapped into you in an erratic rhythm, cum spilled in you and out of him until it stained the wool underneath.

Chan was red in the face, both in embarrassment and heat. He looked up at you in panic at the direness of circumstance considering neither one of you thought to stay protected. “Shit, fuck,” he exclaimed still pumping inside you, “you feel so good. I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, bending down to kiss him. “It’s okay, just don’t stop…please…”

His stressed expression melted, as did his fingers into your skin. He caressed over your sides with love in his eyes, swallowing nervously. “Really, baby? That ok?”

Perspiration coated his skin, beading down his adam’s apple as it bobbed. You felt like mush in his touch, letting your hips make use of the natural lubricant. Your boyfriend groaned at the sound of the slick moisture sliding over his skin. You cupped his face in your hands, working your jaw in a needy liplock. “Yes, please. Fuck your cum in me, please.”

His fingers tensed, dragging your lips to slap down on his. He exhaled slowly, your walls hugging his cock erect. He asked in a breathy voice, “Fuck my cum in you…my pretty girlfriend wants something so dirty done to her?”

“Yes, yes, please…” You whined.

He slammed up into you, feeling how he’s already bottoming out inside you. Hearing you moan his name lit a fire beneath him and he rolled you on your back to rut in you like a merciless animal. 

“You want my cum in you, hmm? Fill you up with my cum and put my fat load in you?”

You jerked in the opposite direction, your skin smacking against each other causing the tenderness of your skin. “Yes, please,” You choked out, “I want it all with you.”

His lips picked up from the corner in a smirk, turning you back over to plant you against the couch while his feet finally touched the ground. “You want it all? Like a life? A family? You want me to build a family with me…have me fuck my babies into you?”

“Yes, baby, please. I want you to fill me up so I can make you a daddy.”

“You love me that much?” He slammed into you with a proud smile. “You love me so much you see your future with daddy?”

You batted your lashes back at him. “I see every day either full of joy or full of your cum inside me.”

He snickered before biting his lips in a filthy moan, “Such a dirty mouth on the mother of my kids.”

You’re spent by the time your legs gave out, and you and your boyfriend exhausted your bodies to the point you couldn’t move even an inch off the couch. Cum seeped out of your holes like sap, only halted as you pressed your legs together to get comfortable. Chan had barely enough energy to tug a blanket off from behind him and throw it over your bodies. You smiled into his warmth, nuzzling into his chest, and inhaling his lusty musk. 

You moaned in satisfaction. “Mmh, I like this…”

“Me too.” He hummed.

“I never want this to end.”

“And it won’t,” he said, kissing the temple of your forehead.

“Are you hungry?”

You moaned. “Starving.”

He chuckled, holding you closer to him as his voice dropped an octave. “Let’s fill you up with something, hmm?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling as you lightly shoved him. “Chan…”

“Food, babe,” he said with a cheeky smile, “get your mind out of the gutter.”

After a quick shower, and a few wet kisses in between, you’re set to refresh yourselves with some fast food and can’t help but be filled with elation. You cozied into the passenger seat accepting the hand he’s offered as the other steadied the wheel. You can’t help but notice how he glanced every now and then when he shouldn’t, making you nudge him to fix his gaze.

It was always a loving one, one that you’d forever burn in your memory. You don’t even know why, but you shed a tear looking at it. That smile of his seems to go on for miles and brightens your day like the morning sun. You felt it in your heart. Something suffocating that you couldn’t describe but all you think in your head is that this was love and that loving Chan would be the easiest thing you could do.

He sent you another glance before making a turn, one a little longer than the few before, then all you heard was a loud blaring honk, your voice screaming his name, and then your vision went pitch black. You stared into darkness. Emptiness. Nothing was in sight. 

That was until your eyes were open again. You woke in a place of all white, smelling of antiseptic and a hint of febreeze. You slowly blinked, scanning the room, unmoving. Still, in fact.

“Good afternoon, Sunshine. Sleep well?”

You only could see who entered when they walked in your field of vision. Your eyes stared in shock at the sight of your boyfriend, smiling back at you in scrubs as he wrote away in his clipboard and looking as if he hadn’t aged a day. You internally screamed at your body to move, crying from within the inside at the inability, and then soon growing tired, realizing it’d never be possible. As he put away documents in a file holder pinned to the high wall, you stressed your throat to speak, hoping for the least a sound to follow, but instead, it was your silence.

“I’ll just open the blinds a bit, make sure they’re not too much light in your eyes. Too bad your nap was a little long. The weather was so good. I thought we could roll you out into the garden.”

You are losing your mind. The last thing you could remember was a car accident that felt like mere seconds ago and staring into the eyes of the man before you, who matched the love in your eyes. Now you’re imprisoned in your own immobile body, with no clue why and how the love of your life survived when you barely did.

“Your heart is pounding. Wait a second.”

Chan strode over to the monitor just out of view, forcing yourself to rely on your peripheral to watch him. His side profile and his body were all within reach but unassessable. You felt the sweat of your palm through the sheer determination alone, but to no avail, he stayed away from your grasp.

“Hmm, we’ll have to figure that out.”

Finishing up, he stood in front of you like a figure of light radiating brightness unfathomable to man. A light bright enough to fully grasp your reality. Your true reality.

That’s right. He’s not your boyfriend. You were never together.

You’ve been the way you were for two years, by a car accident nonetheless. This was Nurse Lee–your caretaker and nurse–who insisted you call him by name and talked to you as if you could talk right back. 

And this wasn’t the 1970s. It was the 2070s. 

Your gaze quickly turned to “Three's a Company” playing on the highly advanced TV plastered on the wall, momentarily surprised that they still had the show on cable, before snapping right back to your nurse, now going on about the daily work gossip. You couldn’t help but stare again, watching his handsome face turn up in a smile every time something delightful popped into his pretty little head as he spoke. Your eyes fluttered in remorse, a familiar sinking feeling in your chest as you inhaled and exhaled through your breathing tubes.

It all made so much sense. Too much in fact. Here you were in dreamland living in disbelief that someone as sweet and kind and Charming as Lee Chan—nurse Lee Chan—would ever be someone so madly in love with you. You lived a happy and healthy and normal life in your dreams, shutting off from the dark truth of your world is, as if you’ve never been in this accident. You dreamt of life before it was taken away before you narrowly escaped death.

If you could call this escaping death anyway. You were practically dead.

And perhaps the worst part—

“Vivian liked the flowers you suggested. I think she’ll finally stop being mad at me thanks to you.” 

He gently moved your head to fluff the pillow behind you and placed you back on top. He brushed away a hair that strayed over your face, and you felt a sensation pulse through your fingers. “I wish you could meet her. You’ve always been there to listen to me talk about the wedding planning, the bridal stuff, and then the actual wedding. I hope you liked the photos, the guy we hired was—phew—a pretty penny.”

You started to blink rapidly, seeing your reality crumbling before you, and all he could do was look as devastatingly beautiful as always, even with the dark circle under his eyes from long hours of work. 

“I talk a lot, huh? That’s what you’re thinking. Sorry, you’ve always been a listener, not that you can help it.” He chuckled to himself. “Sorry, dark joke. I’m sure if you could move now, you’d laugh.”

No, you wouldn’t.

“I’ll be out of your hair in a second. Don’t worry.” 

He did the last round of his thorough check-up of your room before standing by the door with his clipboard in hand. Clicking his pen, he turned back to you one last time with a smile now turned bittersweet.

“Any day now. Your heart pulses a little faster every day. Your family is waiting for you. And because I’ve grown attached to you I’m waiting for you too. Maybe after all this, we could be friends, then you can tell me how much you love or hate when I talk to you. Just as long as you’re up and running again.”

The moment the door closed, you were alone again. The fluid built in your tear ducts finally found their escape and streamed down your still face, facing their discomforting warmth. Your chest heaved, your grew breaths shallow, your throat went dry, and suddenly your lips quivered. In solitude and sheer desperation, you said your first words in years.

“Chan…come…back…”

But it didn’t matter.

[dodorimo]

WIP Wednesday

Theater director!Raphael x Tav

He's supposed to be kinda creepy here, so yeah, this is a warning.

· · ──────  ❊  ────── · ·

It is a disaster, a travesty.

He wonders. When Tacitus beheld the charred remains of his beloved Rome, did he feel a similar way?

Chorus girls look to each other for guidance while lead actors traipse over the stage, painfully off-key. He has seen high school productions with more verve than this one.

That he has to share a room with such insipid talent. It is truly heartbreaking.

With a weary sigh, his eyes survey the stage for the weak link, and that’s where he finds her. A girl in the back row, looking a little lost and scared out of her mind.

“Dear God, who does casting these days?” he laments to no one in particular, crossing his legs on the leather seat.

“You do, sir.”

Raphael turns to look at the man beside him, taking in his ill-fitting suit and old-fashioned glasses. Poor fellow. He has neither the knack nor the grip for the job. And the syndicate thought sending this boy would keep him on his toes?

“Oh, I didn’t audition this one or I’d remember her.” There’s a pause while he mulls over his thoughts. “Tell me, Jameson,” he says and ignores when the other man voices a correction. “Why is she here?”

“The girl has promise,” comes the curt response. “She was highly recommended.”

The vague answer does nothing to placate his quickly dampening mood. “Recommended by who? Her parents? Her elementary teacher, perhaps?”

A few cleaning women choose this moment to walk past their seats, prompting the man to lower his voice. “The Royal, sir.”

Raphael reclines back in his seat. There we have it.

What these newcomers fail to understand is that admission to a fancy college isn’t nearly enough accolades for his standards. He didn’t build his reputation by bowing down to paper-pushers and sycophants. In this theater, he dictates the rules. In this theater, he is king.

With a wave of his hand and a few scathing words, he orders the session to be dismissed, much to the relief of those present.

“May I suggest a break instead?”

“You did well today, Johnson. You may take the rest of the day off,” he replies, his tone final.

The man opens his mouth to protest, but turns to leave the room instead. The buzz of conversation slowly dwindles as cast and crew head backstage. They turn off the lights on their way out, leaving the theater in semi-penumbra.

Despite his predisposition for pomp and extravagance, Raphael always thought he worked better on a smaller stage.

“Not you.” He points to the girl tailgating the group. “I’d like to have a word.”

The girl stops in her tracks, a thousand emotions flashing across her face, before settling on fear.

While he waits for her to come around, he pulls two chairs and rearranges them facing each other in the middle of the stage, right below where the headlights shine brightest. The girl moves to sit on one of the chairs, shaking like a foal standing on its hind legs for the first time.

“Fear not. This will only take a moment,” he says, his smile deceptively warm—a skill honed after many years in the business.

She is a pretty little thing, this new choir girl. But then, again, most choir girls are. If her theater career falls to pieces, he can imagine a profession or two where she would excel at. 

“What do you say we start from the beginning of act two?” he suggests, tone amicable as to not alarm her further.

The girl scrambles to flip through the pages of the script, her eyes skimming over the words in rapid succession.

This won’t do. An easier question, then.

“What is your name, dear?”

“River, sir. My name is River.”

“My man told me you came from the capital. Do you like it there?”

“I like it very much, yes.” The small talk seems to calm her enough to allow her to find the right page. What she finds there, however, does not please her in the slightest.

“Sir, this is a scene for two…” she trails off, eyes fearful.

“Make the best of it. Improvise. I can play the part of your would-be lover if you wish.” The abrasive approach isn’t to his liking. Unfortunately for this girl, he is short on patience.

If he had any hope that under the veneer of the ingénue might hide a true thespian spirit, it vanishes the moment she utters the first line.

He stands up and paces aimlessly around the stage. The girl stares at him, dumbfounded.

“You have been on the run. This man, this stranger, offers you solace and a roof above your head. He is charming and not too hard on the eyes. You feel indebted to him. You’re young, naive and you’ve never been properly courted.”

The deviation from the script wouldn’t pose an issue. He is the author, after all, and the play, a successful piece from his earlier career. “Updated” for modern audiences. The word alone is enough to make him grit his teeth. None of his plays needed “updating”. Younger audiences can take their grievances back to their food-stained couches. They had no respect for the classics.

His little summary provokes the intended reaction. He sees the pieces falling into place in her mind.

“Harlequin…” she tries again, this time with more passion. And is that the hint of tears he sees in her eyes? “I've never met anyone like you. If only I could repay you in kind.”

“Good, good… much better.” He returns to his seat.

“Say the word and my body will be yours.” She leans forward, exposing just enough of her cleavage for his eager eyes. It’s a bold move, but not unwelcome. His fingers twitch on his lap. This little dove may surprise him still.

Raphael recites the words that have become second nature to him. “Columbina. I’d rather you not return to your old ways. If you choose to lie with me, it must be of your own free will.” If his voice sounded more condescending than the play requires, it’s just an act of improvisation on his part.

He points to the script in her hand. It’s the cue for her musical number.

If the girl clearly struggled with the finer nuances of the text before, here she needs no assistance. Hers is a voice of singular beauty, the likes of which emerge once in a generation. He suddenly understood why James was so hellbent on bringing her here. It wasn’t just the charming Harlequin who was finding himself enthralled.

When it’s done, he takes off his glasses without saying a word and puts them carefully in his pocket.

“Oh dear, this is…” Beautiful, stupendous, awe-inspiring, his mind supplies. “A little crude, if you don’t mind my directness.”

The girl looks positively devastated, her lips quivering as if about to cry.

“But even the roughest of rocks can be polished into a beautiful piece of jewelry. Isn’t this what they say? Meet me at my office after tomorrow’s rehearsal. I expect you to be well acquainted with the text by then.”

“Thank you, sir. I won’t disappoint you.”

“Call me Raphael.”

“Raphael…” Her voice rings like angelic bells to his ears. “Until tomorrow.”

[twinklelilstarkey]

Tutor: Dress Picking

Words: 2.4k Type: Angst? Warnings: This is literally a chapter just to announce that I'm back, so, yeah, settle in folks :) because shit is about to hit the fan, but not yet.

Tutor Masterlist

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

Hours later, when stepping into school, you are more than in a good mood. You must admit, you almost got to school late due to oversleeping with Rafe after having conversations that led until 5AM. Your headache has gone away with a simple aspirin, and most of your worrisome thoughts are in the back of your mind, safely tucked away.

You also were able to leave the house with Rafe without his family noticing, and the same thing goes for your parents. You made it home safely, put on new clothes as you had already showered at Rafe’s house, and he dropped you off at school. Your parents would never know of such a thing as they weren’t home when you got there, and you, supposedly, were with a friend of yours the whole night – one they know very well, but have no idea you don’t even speak to anymore.

Almost late or not, every minute of this morning was better than any other. You wish you were still in bed and that today was a Saturday, not a Wednesday. A day where you could just lie in bed with Rafe, talk about life, and get affection. Gosh, you would sell a kidney for that. Your poor kidneys.

You still got a few minutes in the car with him, even though different, it was still minutes that you had for yourselves. A lot of kisses and reassuring words were exchanged. As well as promises that everything will go well and nothing bad will happen. And if it does, he’ll be parked outside as soon as you call, ready to get you home.

Because of this, when the bell rings to tell you to get to class, your mind is still cloudy and warm.

You sit on your chair and stare at the empty page of a notebook while remembering the dumb ways Rafe made you laugh this morning, from the time in bed to the shower. The way his kisses were always soft and warm, and his arms would always hug you tightly and close enough for all your worries to fly away. Ugh, that kidney is about to go.

The classroom's door closes as the teacher walks inside, and the class begins. You lift your eyes off your notebook and notice a bit of movement beside you. You don’t have to look to know. Kristy wasn’t missing school again. She’s in class. In her usual seat, beside you. Her eyes are currently drilling a hole into the side of your head with all that staring, kind of hard to ignore.

Overall, the class itself is very uneventful since school is about to end, and there isn’t much the teacher can do to make everyone still find it in their will to study or work further. Due to this, the hour is slow, and there aren’t many notes that you can take from what is taught and discussed between the teacher and the other students.

In the corner of your eye, you see a small piece of paper being slid over to your side of the table, but you look away as soon as you can. You’re sure that Kristy is better than sliding small pieces of paper asking for an apology or time to talk, but maybe after the stunt that she was able to pull on you in that car... You probably need to draw new conclusions about this girl.

Throughout this one class, you continuously saw how Kristy tried to get your attention by sliding the piece of paper closer and closer or even trying to write a completely new one. You ignored all of her attempts. But also hesitated to check your vibrating phone as the possibility of it being her was just as large as the piece of paper she last tried to slide into your field of view.

The bell rang, and the teacher screamed the small assignment over the loud chatter that quickly erupted. You took a quick note of it in case you forgot it and got up to put your things away. Five different pieces of paper are just by your notebook now, and you almost want to scoff at the stupidity. Curiosity is also biting at your skin for wanting to know what is written in all of them, but you are better than that. Kristy sits there as you put your things away, almost as if waiting for you to address her or pick up her papers.

You slide your bag over your shoulder and take a step to the side to begin walking to the door. You ignore the hand that stretches in your direction to get a hold of your arm (but fails) and walk out of the room. Once outside, your phone begins to vibrate in your pocket, and you pull it out, knowing for a fact that Kristy isn't that ridiculous. The caller: Mom.

“Hello?” You say as soon as you accept the call and put your phone by your ear.

“Guess who just got invited to a party?” Your mom asks excitingly.

“You?”

“All of us!” She corrects excitingly. “Rose Cameron just called, saying that there will be a small get-together with the few families close to the Camerons at the country club. We’re all invited to celebrate your and many others' graduation. Isn't this amazing?”

You open your locker while an expression of surprise is more than obvious on your face. She continues to talk to you all about the details of the party, like how many people, what to wear and what will be there for decoration. You move your books around in the locker to switch classes, and not once do you need to speak because your mother speaks for the both of you.

The call drags out until the next bell calls you into class, yet not a new word has been said by you during the whole thing. You smile at your mom’s rare excitement for a party because, sincerely, it's hard to forget how any event organized by Rose has left your socialite of a mom more than pleased with the range of guests, food, or conversations. You’re in for a hell of a night.

“When is it, exactly?” You ask right as you get near the classroom.

“At the end of this week. Rose said something about it being a great way to celebrate the end of classes for all the graduating students invited.” She explains, leaving you to nod to yourself, “When are you free to go dress shopping?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, we won’t need more than an hour,” a lie, “to find a good dress for you, so as soon as you know a day we can go, call me back.”

“Will do.”

“Now, go to class. Your bell must have rung almost 5 minutes ago.”

You chuckle at her exactness and say your goodbyes before ending the call. Inside the classroom, you find everyone already seated, but the teacher is still absent. You walk towards the back of the class and ignore the same pair of eyes as before - since it seems the person has failed to gain something more interesting to look at lately.

You take your usual seat and think back on the conversation with your mother. The party doesn’t seem bad, but you can only wish for good company during it. Usually, your company in parties such as this is not exactly talking with you, much to their disappointment. And standing by your parents the entire evening doesn’t seem exactly exciting, as the conversations will be quite… uninteresting for your ears, surely.

While you occupy your free time on your phone, ignoring the constant whispering and glaring from all directions of the room, the teacher continues to take his sweet time to appear. Long enough for the guy in front of you to turn around and hand you yet another piece of paper. At this point, trees cry with all the attempts at communication Kristy happens to do.

Maybe it was how annoyed you felt. Maybe it was the fact that all their attention left you as soon as the teacher decided to walk in with a mug of hot coffee in hand. But you opened this last piece of paper. Truthfully, you did it so quick the unfolding and folding back up wasn't noticed by a single soul, and you read it.

Are you going to Cameron’s party? – Kristy

(…)

“Definitely not my color, mom.” You say for the thousandth time while looking at yourself in the mirror of the boutique.

“Are you sure? I like it on you.” She says while tilting her head to take another good look at you.

“I like the style, just not the color.” You admit to her, in a calm tone, nothing to start fights over - as you usually tend to do when picking a dress for a party your mom is so excited about. “The red looks better on me.”

Your mom gives you her usual look, ‘Well, but I hate red’, which only lets you know that this discussion about a dress will lead you to another hour of dress shopping. Nothing ever made you feel as grateful for yourself for clearing your schedule the way you did for this entire evening. As always, your mom is against any color that isn’t light and sweet or any cleavage that isn’t conservative enough. While you happen to like a lot of different styles of dresses and have dealt with your mother’s antics for years, your tastes still tend to clash.

“Red is too much, I think,” she comments, turning to look at the large number of dresses she has asked the worker to get for her. “What about blue?”

“Depends on the shade.” You try to ignore the look she sends you over her shoulder but fail miserably while looking down at the ground to chuckle.

“This one is too dark, I think.” She says while holding a silk dark blue dress with thin straps, “What about this one?”

“It almost looks white, mom. I’m not getting married.”

“Okay, Miss Picky. You pick one, then.”

It went on for hours, but soon you two came to an agreement after much begging on your part and almost on the store’s worker's part as well. You settled on a blue, not too light or too dark, dress with straps (your mother insisted). It has a straight neckline, but due to it being silk, it sits well on your chest. It tightens at your waist (again, due to your mother’s request: not too much), and its length rests gracefully at your feet – leaving you enough room to walk, but not much.

The moment you dramatically took in the fresh air outside, your mom wasn’t shy to pinch the back of your arm for the drama you decided to drag throughout the day. This also helped keep her distracted as your phone continuously received texts from a certain group of people who still are desperate to know if you were going to the party. They made it impossible for you to show her anything on your phone, like dress ideas, without her seeing the messages constantly being sent.

You take your seat on your mom’s car seat and set the bag with the dress inside by your legs, beginning to block the entirety of the group of girls on your phone. They have been asking you for, you assume, the same thing that Kristy had written in those papers yesterday in class: another conversation among all of you.

In all the messages you’ve received from them, you’ve read the ridiculous words of ‘unfair’ and ‘selfish’ all directed at you for either not answering the messages or not speaking to them in school, though all they did was stare at you once they saw you. You’re not sure you heard a single word come out of their mouths the day before or this morning. They all stayed silent while their eyes scanned your every move. It was obsessive, and they were driving you insane for it.

You’re just thankful that you were able to spend the evening with your mom, away from their gazes, as well as for the recent silence coming from your phone now that all contacts are blocked. Now you can finally relax and stop thinking about them and your conversation. But maybe you spoke too soon.

“Is everything alright between you and the girls?” Your mom suddenly asks while driving you both home. Her tone is calm and sweet, with nothing hidden behind it.

“Why do you ask?” You try to sound as calm as possible.

“I just feel like they haven’t been hanging out in our house that much lately. You’re always the one going out to see them,” She explains, not knowing that all the times you’ve gone out to see ‘them’ lately have been to see Rafe or Patty instead. “I sort of miss having the house full of girls.”

You two sit in silence while you simply look out of the window into the night, trying not to make any faces or sounds that could lead you into a lie that will snowball into the avalanche that is your current situation.

“We’ve just been busy, you know? With finals and all.”

“Will they be at the party?” She asks, still unphased by anything you’ve said.

“Yeah,” You assume, yet still make sure your tone makes you sound sure of your words.

“Well, good. I’ve missed talking to them. Maybe we can plan something.”

You almost zone out as soon as she begins to talk about the possibilities of having something cute like an afternoon tea party, or anything along those lines. How will you even be able to tell her the truth? You'll break her heart.

“Yeah…” You look out of your window again, “We could do that.”

As you continuously look away, your mother takes a look at you when stopped at a red light, with her smile still bright and sweet, ready to get one in return. But your eyes and mind are elsewhere - far away from the conversation you’ve just had. She noticed how your tone had just dipped from dramatic and happy to something so different it was hard to pick apart with such a short answer.

Your mother opens her mouth to say something, maybe even question your sudden change of mood directly, but the light turning green was enough to take her attention away. Some other time, she’ll be able to make you talk to her, confide in her about what could’ve happened to make you so moody. She’ll be there to hear it no matter what, right?

Am I back 100%? I have no idea. Did I write this while having no plans to do it? Also yes. I hope it was good!

Hope you enjoyed it!! AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!

[blues824]

Hello again! I don’t know if you remember me but I requested the Black Butler characters x Shinobu! Reader and came back to request another. If isn’t too much may I ask for a Morticia Addams! Reader for Malleus, Lilia, Azul, and the Tweels just imagine them with a Morticia! Reader with them being seductive, elegant, and very motherly. They take care of their carnivorous plants and can see the beauty behind everything.

Hello, again! Did you like the new Wednesday show? Because I loved it so much. Truly a work of art.

Azul Ashengrotto

Somebody’s blushing~ Nah but for real, the first time he saw you he fell hard and fast for you. You were just so elegant and kind, and so unusual compared to the other humans around NRC. You were able to see right through him and help him through his insecurities.

He finds it comforting for you to be there waiting for him after a long day of school and running the Mostro Lounge. You would walk with your arm in his as you looked like you were glowing in the moonlight. 

The first time you brought your seductive side out to play, he was super flustered. He’s having trouble breathing, he feels very warm, the tweels are teasing the living heck out of him. He’s very overwhelmed. However, he can’t say that he dislikes it.

Once, when he went to visit you in Ramshackle (which you obviously feel right at home in) he saw you taking care of a few Venus Flytraps. It wasn’t unusual to see someone taking care of plants here, but to see you snatching a fly out of thin air and feeding it to the plant was definitely out of the ordinary.

It’s refreshing to see someone with such a positive outlook on everything. He tends to see things in a more negative light, so you brought a new perspective into his life. He returns the favor by getting you many gifts that remind him of you.

Jade Leech

The Gomez in this situation. When he looks into your eyes, all you can see is pure love and adoration. You both dance the nights away as you enjoy being close with each other. He thinks you’re absolutely beautiful as you both sway together.

It leaves a warm feeling in his heart when he sees you enter the Mostro Lounge and request to be seated in his section. Once you got your food (which he paid for), he would take his 15 minute break to spend time with you.

The first time you brought out your more seductive nature, he reciprocated it immediately. He would do the thing where he starts kissing your hand and slowly moves up. It makes others so envious because they wish they had a relationship (with you) like that.

You both have a green thumb and offer each other tips on how to allow your plants to flourish and thrive. You’ve gifted him a few Satan’s Bolete mushrooms and he’s given you Nightshade seeds. It gives you both a reason to visit each other often.

I would say he’s fairly positive. More so than his twin, at least. Of course, your positive view is more macabre than normal. Once, while you were dancing, a sparrow landed on a nearby branch and you whispered that it would make for a good trinket. He smiled, glad to finally find someone like him.

Floyd Leech

He would most likely call you ‘Dolphin’ because you’re graceful, intelligent, friendly, and most importantly… you have a darker side to you. Another thing he has noticed is that you're loyal to those you love.

Whenever he has to work a late shift at the Lounge, his bad mood is almost immediately lifted when you walk in the door. He will run over and give you a big squeeze, telling you about how much he missed you. You have a very strong pain tolerance, so only you can handle his hugs.

When you first start acting like your seductive self, he is both flustered and entertained. If he sees you being particularly affectionate, he will pull you into his lap where you both will act all lovey-dovey with each other.

As silly as it is, he gets jealous about how much attention you give your beloved plants. He will sit and pout as you whisper positive affirmations towards the Flytraps you love. Of course, once you finish, you turn around and start cooing at him lovingly and he just melts.

We all know that he has intense mood swings. However, whenever he’s with you and you’re giving him attention he remains happy and content. You’re the one he goes to whenever something upsets him, and sometimes you even come to him because you both have an emotional connection with each other.

Lilia Vanrouge

You both make a very playful couple. He immediately warms up to you as you do to him. You remind him of royalty: elegant and graceful, friendly and charming. Even Sebek is happy that the two of you found each other.

He loves trying to scare you because it never works. Instead, you put your hands on the side of his face and pull him in for a kiss. Since you do this every time, he makes it a point to try and ‘scare’ you at least twice a day.

He is mostly amused when you bring out your more seductive side. He smiles as you sit yourself on the arm of his chair and run your finger up his neck and move your face closer to his while whispering how much you absolutely love him. He leans even closer, whispering back. Your lips never meet, but it’s enough to make everyone else jealous.

He loves the concept of being a ‘plant parent’, so he will co-parent with you. You have a lovely bed of Nightshade, some Venus Flytraps, Hemlock, and a couple of Ghost Orchids. The orchids are especially valued as they are as odd as the both of you.

You both tend to be very positive. You even have the same macabre interests that you bring up. A lot of the others see you dancing together out of nowhere. No music, just enjoying the time spent in each other’s arms. 

Malleus Draconia

The fact that you 1) aren’t scared of him and 2) are actually quite like him makes him fall so freaking hard for you. The chemistry between the two of you is unfathomable. You can just look into his eyes and he’d look back just lovestruck.

He loves to see you waiting for him to get Ramshackle for your nightly walks. He thinks you look absolutely divine underneath the moon’s pale glow. The things you say are very interesting as well. You have plenty of stories to share about your time with your family, and he has all the time in the world to listen.

Bringing out your seductive side can do one of three things: confuse him, amuse him, or make him flustered, sometimes all 3. If you use human ways of seduction, he will be confused. Thankfully, you had read up on dragon courting rituals. You would wear the emerald that is the heart of his horde as a necklace and would remain close to him at all times. Others would often see you with your arm in his.

He’s glad that you were able to find a hobby that wasn’t destructive. He’s surprised to see that Ramshackle was turned into a sort of greenhouse in itself. He’s also noticed that the plants at the normal greenhouse were thriving more than ever. 

His view on the half-empty-half-full cup changes depending on what happens that day. However, when he’s with you, he can only see the half-full cup. You turn him into a puppy and he longs for you whenever you have to be away. The absolute look of adoration in your eyes puts anything to shame. The way you hold his face in your hands and he holds your waist as you both go in for a soft kiss brings a warm feeling to both of your cold hearts.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Other Half Part Twenty Two

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Notes: Angst was requested, so angst ye shall receive. Welcome to the Thanksgiving episode.

Warnings: Smidge of fluff with a heaping of angst; reader has a mother and father, neither are described physically

Summary: It had gotten off to a good start. 

Your parents had been so buoyant and excited as they’d gotten off of the jet, and as Bruce had driven you all to the manor. The manor had incited a wave of ooing and aahing as Bruce had given them a tour. You’d departed for the kitchen, trying to help Alfred, but he’d merely steered you onto a stool and made you a strong cup of tea to steady your nerves. 

You're a little surprised when Bruce’s eyes glaze over at the idea. You’ve never seen him actively check out from a conversation like this before. You raise your hand, gently waving it in front of his face.

“Honey?” You press. “Did you hear me?” 

Bruce clears his throat, averting his gaze to the kitchen counter. You frown as he takes up his glass of wine, drawing deeply from it.

“I haven't thought about it,” He finally admits.

“Well, what do you usually do for Thanksgiving?” 

He shrugs. “Not much. Alfred makes dinner.”

“So it’s like any other day?” You tease, trying to lighten the mood. He smiles tightly, taking up the bottle of wine and topping off your glasses. 

“I guess,” He offers. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to figure out where you can possibly take the conversation next. 

“Well,” You lean into it a little, drawing your wine glass closer to yourself. “My parents have invited us to Metropolis for Thanksgiving, and I wanted to know if you wanted to come.”

“You’re definitely going?”

“I mean, you said you don’t have any other plans, and I don’t. Michelle is doing a Friendsgiving that weekend, but I don’t have anything else going on, day-of. And…” You press your lips together, trying to gather your thoughts, fighting off the swell of emotion. You focus on your wine, incredibly wary of how you go on: “I haven’t seen my parents since you brought them here. Mom’s been harping on me to visit.” Among other things—but you don't want to get into all that now.

“Why haven’t you?”

“Work, and the press, and just,” You shake your head. “There’s been a lot going on. I haven’t accrued any time off at work, but we get Thanksgiving and the Friday off, so I figured I’d leave Wednesday night, and get back on Saturday in time for Friendsgiving.” 

“How are you getting there?” 

“I’ll rent a car.”

Bruce gives you a stern sidelong glance. 

“You can borrow one of mine if you insist on driving.”

“The tumbler?”

“You’d be disappointed in the gas mileage.” 

“Bummer.”

Bruce thinks for a moment before he leans against the counter. 

“Is anyone else going to be at Thanksgiving?”

“Just the three of us—four, if you decide to come.” 

“Alright. Tell you what: why don’t you invite your parents here. We’ll have Thanksgiving at the manor. They can stay the night.” 

Your brows raise in surprise. 

“You seriously want to do that?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“...Are you concussed?”

Bruce rolls his eyes, resting his arms atop the counter and taking hold of your hands in his. 

“Invite them, see what they say. Alright?”

“Alright,” You nod. “We’ll have to tell Alfred.”

“Let’s just see what they say first.” 

Your eyes narrow slightly. He’s got to be bluffing. Thanksgiving is next week—there isn’t much time to get everything confirmed. Travel plans need to be made, shopping lists need to be created, rooms at the manor probably need to be aired out. 

“Alright,” You shrug. “Let’s ask.” You draw your phone out of your pocket, swiping open to your contacts. 

“You're going to call right now?”

“Sooner’s better than later, right?” You tap your mother’s contact, then put the phone on speaker, setting it on the counter. Your eyes flit toward Bruce, and you find him eyeing your phone like a ticking time bomb. 

“Sweetie!” Your mother screeches, and you can’t help but smile. 

“Hey, mom.” 

“How are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all week!” 

That’s on purpose. There are some things that your mother’s been bringing up lately that you just don’t want to talk about…Things that you haven’t even told Bruce. 

“I know, it’s been a lot of phone tag, I’m sorry about that. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about Thanksgiving—” 

“Oh, me, too! What time does your plane land?” 

“Well…” You look at Bruce again, waiting for him to call it off—last chance to back down. But he nods and waves you on, so you go on, “We know it’s last minute, but Bruce and I were hoping that you could join us here this year, at the manor.” 

“The manor?” Your mother’s shock and glee are delightfully clear, even through the tinny audio. 

“Mhm!” 

“Oh, I don't know, it’s awfully late to get a flight—” 

“I’ll send the jet.”  

Bruce’s assertion shocks you both into silence for a moment. Your brows raise, mouth falling open in surprise. 

‘Are you kidding?’ You mouth over your mother’s fumbling insistence that it’s too much of an expense. 

“Not at all,” Bruce shakes his head. “We really would love to host you. It’s been too long since you’ve seen Gotham.” 

“Been too long since I’ve seen my daughter.”

“Mom,” You groan, wincing. 

“Let me talk it over with your father—We’ll let you know in the morning. Thank you for the offer, Bruce.” 

“Of course.” 

“Talk to you later, mom,” You add. 

“Bye! Love you!” 

“Love you, too!” You tap the button to end the call before you look at Bruce again. “The jet?” 

“It’s just sitting there,” Bruce shrugs, taking up his wine again. “And this way they won’t have to go through security. I hear holiday lines are a real killer.”

“You are…” You shake your head a little, chuckling, “Such a fucking enigma.”

“I don’t think I am.” 

“No?” 

“No.” Bruce straightens, rounding the counter. “I don't do anything by halves, I don’t back down from a challenge…” He comes to a stop beside you, gaze searching your face, “And I love you very much.” 

You reach out, gently hooking your fingers in the collar of his shirt and tugging him closer for a kiss.

“Right back atchya, Mr. Wayne.” 

--  

It had gotten off to a good start. 

Your parents had been so buoyant and excited as they’d gotten off of the jet, and as Bruce had driven you all to the manor. The manor had incited a wave of ooing and aahing as Bruce had given them a tour. You’d departed for the kitchen, trying to help Alfred, but he’d merely steered you onto a stool and made you a strong cup of tea to steady your nerves. 

“If I may say so,” Alfred had offered, “You hardly seemed as tightly wound the last time Master Wayne brought your parents into town.” 

“Well, I was blindsided last time,” You’d admitted, “And I haven’t…” You’d trailed off, shaking your head a little as Alfred had cast a curious eye toward you. 

“Haven’t what?” 

“...Nothing. Are you sure there isn't anything that I can do to help?” 

If Alfred hadn’t bought your brushing him off, he hadn’t chased it down—and as much as you’d entreated him to eat with all of you, he wouldn’t hear of it.

It had been a good start.

Dinner is delicious, Alfred makes sure the wine continues to flow, and you think, you think that your mom isn’t going to bring it up, but— 

“Have you put in for your transfer?” 

Your blood runs cold, and your face goes hot. The sudden change of subject makes your stomach heave in such a way that you're sure you're about to lose your dinner. You keep your focus on your nearly empty plate as everyone’s attention turns to you. You swallow thickly. Your transfer. 

“You said that you would,” Your mother adds.

“I told you I would think about it,” You argue. “I never said it was set in stone.” 

“Transfer?” Bruce prods. Damnit. 

“It was just something that my mom thought—” 

“That I know would be better for you!” Your mother argues. She casts a glance between you and Bruce, sighing. “Now I know that you’re both very fond of Gotham, but it just isn’t safe, and it isn’t getting any better. Besides the crime rate, your…” She trails off, seeming to try and tread carefully for once. 

“I think what your mother is trying to say,” Your father cuts in, “Is that as much as you can shrug it off, the fact of the matter is, your…Relationship,” He glances between you and Bruce warily, “Has put you in danger.” 

“Dad—” 

“If it wasn’t for Batman, you could have died—Or Bruce could’ve lost so much money—” Your mother cuts in. 

“I never cared about the money,” Bruce’s insistence is so heartbreakingly soft, and nearly drowned out as your mother goes on: 

“You can transfer to a branch of the Wayne Foundation in Metropolis. And who even knows how long Batman will be around to stop these kinds of things.” 

“It was a one-off,” You insist firmly. “I’m fine, I’m safe.” 

“But it could happen again,” Your father points out. “It could happen to either of you.” 

You sigh softly, glancing toward Bruce. He’s not looking at you. His ears are red; his jaw is clenched. You reach for his hand beneath the table, but he pulls it away, reaching for his glass instead. 

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” You say firmly, looking between your parents. “Okay? Can we just—talk about something fun and uncontroversial, like politics or euthanasia?” 

--  

It had been such a good start. 

But as your parents head up to their guest room and Bruce disappears to the study—as you hear the discordant clanging of the piano—you crumble. You bury your face in your hands, trying to stifle your sobs. Hot tears and hot breath press into your palms as your chest and shoulders wrack with sobs. You feel two hands rest on your shoulders, and you turn gratefully into Alfred, leaning into him heavily as he folds you into his arms. He smooths his hand over your back, shushing you softly as he steers you toward the kitchen. 

You sit numbly on the stool again, breath hiccuping as you scrub at your tear-stung eyes. Alfred comes back over to you with a small glass in hands. 

“What’s that?” You mumble. 

“Sherry. Steady your nerves.” 

You take hold of it and toss it all back—and regret it immediately. You cough roughly, wincing at the dry burn as it blazes down your throat. Alfred takes the glass back. 

“...It wasn’t a shot.” 

“I realize that now,” You grit out, clearing your throat. Alfred turns, refilling the glass and holding it out again. 

“Slower this time.” 

You take a small sip, brow furrowing at the taste. It’s almost pleasant. 

Almost.

You sniffle, looking down into the glass and swirling it slightly. 

“...I’m guessing you heard everything?” 

“I did.” 

“I didn’t think she’d bring it up,” You admit, "I kinda hoped she wouldn’t…But I didn’t have a moment with her without Bruce, and when she didn’t mention it on the way back from the airport, I thought…I shouldn’t have assumed, anyway. Now he’s pissed at me.” 

“...If I may,” Alfred says gently, “I believe he’s upset because he’s afraid that your mother may be right.” 

“She isn’t.” 

“Even you must admit that being in the public eye has changed things for you.” 

“I was held at gunpoint at work before Bruce and I were known to be together.” 

“Crime is still an epidemic in this city.” 

“Nowhere in the world is crimeless. I could just as soon be held up in Metropolis.” 

“...Perhaps,” Alfred nods. You sigh softly, taking in another mouthful of sherry and wincing. 

“I just wish he hadn’t left before we talked about it,” You shake your head. “I hate it when he does that.” 

“Stay here,” Alfred pats your cheek gently. “Relax.” 

“Can I help with the washing up?—Please,” You tip your head to the side pleadingly as Alfred opens his mouth to argue. “You’ve been working so hard all day, and everything was so delicious. It’ll go faster with two. Please let me help.” 

Alfred finally nods. 

“I’ll wash, you dry.” 

“Sure.” You stand, setting the sherry glass by the sink. You take up the dishtowel, still sniffling a little as you and Alfred stand side by side at the sink. 

“...Alfred?” 

“Yes?” 

“Thanks. For everything.” 

He smiles, lightly nudging your shoulder with his. It’s a gentle, familiar touch, one that makes you smile through your sniffles. 

“Any time, dear.”

Next Part

[stupidlittlespirit]

HIII may a request a drabble of fem-bodied reader giving virgin reigen head please 🙏🏾 this might sound weird but I really liked how you wrote his virginity and made it seem genuine ykwim?? TYSM and there’s no pressure to write it ❤️ take ur time :)

oh anon, you're in luck.... I've been meaning to write a blow job all week and you've spurred me into action, so not only do you get a drabble, you get to be the first to receive my crappy attempt at designing a header! Congratulations, try not to get too excited at my artistic prowess now....

Rating: NSFW Type: Drabble Tags: Oral sex, swallowing, virginity mention, semi-public sex, Reigen being a fucking jerk, professional grade blow job. Word count: 2239

It had started as a joke. 

A passing comment one night. You’d been going back and forth about non-existent sex lives and your own lacklustre suitors, holed up in a tiny dive bar, several glasses deep with your boss whilst laughing and teasing one another in a way that anyone else overseeing might call inappropriate for a work outing.

Except a joke usually stays as just that: a silly thing spoken once between friends that isn’t mentioned again. This, however, has never quite been put to bed. 

“Maybe if you kept one head busy, you wouldn’t lose the other so quickly,” is all you’d said that night, grinning up at him from where you’d been slouched across the table. A cheeky jibe with only a gentle heat behind it.

“And what makes you think that’s a problem I'd have?” Reigen had scoffed around his cigarette, affronted like he’d never mentioned his own virginity to you in a shy, drunken confession several months ago. You’re not even sure he remembers doing it. 

Wary to bring it up again for fear of spoiling the mood, you’d shrugged. “You just strike me as the type.” 

Reigen had laughed, a little too loudly and a little too forcefully. “As if someone like me would do that. I get plenty of practice, I can hold out for hours, thank you very much.” 

The lie had been blatant and every time you think back on it, you’re certain Reigen had to have known how obvious he’d sounded, and yet…. The topic has come up at least twice since and every time, Reigen has pushed for you to take it back, and without fail you’ve always refused. 

Again, today, Reigen had made an unprovoked comment about his outstanding prowess and, as is your nature, you’d been unable to help throwing out a teasing call out of his Loudest Man in the Room routine alongside a half-hopeful bet of him barely making it ten minutes.

And, as is Reigen’s nature, he’d snapped back with yet another poorly thought through comment: “Well if you’re so fucking sure, why don’t you come find out for yourself?” 

Which is why, on a rainy Wednesday evening, close to the end of office hours, you’re spending the last quarter of your day on the cold tiles of the shop floor with your boss’ cock buried deep in your throat. 

You’re tucked neatly under his desk, hidden from view of the unlocked, slightly open office door as you work him with your mouth, spit slick on your lips and rapidly coating the hand that you hold the base of his cock steady with. 

Reigen’s legs are spread wide in order to nestle you between them, the heels of his cheap loafers digging into the ground, desperate for purchase to counter the sliding wheels of his desk chair. 

He’s been doing his best to keep himself under control for the better part of the entire two minutes that you’ve been down here and he’s been failing miserably. His grip on the desk’s edge is white knuckled, his breathing laboured and ragged between his low groans, and when you open your eyes slightly to check on him, the poor thing looks wrecked already. 

His face is bright red and there’s sweat on his brow like he’s run a mile. Reigen’s gaze is glassy with pleasure, looking right through you until he senses your eyes on his and that famous charade comes crashing back down like it always does. 

“Not so-“ A gasp of breath. “Not so smart now, huh?” He chokes out, mouth twitching up into a mean grin. 

You’ve never rolled your eyes mid-blow job before, but Reigen often manages to bring out the worst of your impatience and this is no different. He’s utterly unbearable. You absolutely must make him cum. 

Swiftly, you release him from your throat to pull off up to the head of his cock before you swirl your tongue wickedly around the most sensitive part of him, and Reigen moans loudly, high pitched and pathetic, his wise-crack dying in his throat.

The buckle of his belt jingles as his hips twitch forward and you hold his thighs tightly to still him. This is your turn to get back at him, no matter how much he thinks he’s in charge here. He grows impossibly harder in your mouth and you can tell, instantly, that he’s going to blow his load any second now. 

You can taste the sweat on his skin, the salt of it mixing with the growing pre-cum on the head of his cock, and your eyes fall closed in pleased preparation: both for the mouthful to follow and the gloating rights you’ll have for the next week or so. You’re not going to let this go for a long- 

The phone on the desk rings, shrill and loud.

Reigen jolts so suddenly that you almost gag on him and your eyes fly open in shock to meet his. For a second, you still, sharing a look of mutual surprise. Technically you’re still on the clock: it’s quarter to five and you’re not due to shut for another fifteen minutes, but it isn’t often that you get a client so close to the end of play. 

The phone continues to bleat about its annoying presence and slowly, Reigen’s look of surprise shifts into one of flustered cunning. A lopsided smirk grows on his reddened mouth and he visibly steels himself before he reaches one hand out towards the phone. 

“Keep my head busy, right?” He breathes, smug and slightly relieved, and abruptly you realise he’s about to checkmate you with your own suggestion. 

You go to pull off of him, to talk him out of it, but Reigen is in his element when he thinks he’s got the upper hand. There’s not much that can stop him and before you can even lift up halfway, his free hand finds your hair, fingers tangling in it tightly, and he pushes your head back down. 

It’s firm but gentle, and in spite of his cavalier attitude, his know-it-all masquerade, the look in Reigen's eyes conveys a soft request for permission. A hint of affection simmers under his obnoxious front. It’s so unexpected that it makes your stomach flutter and you offer no resistance to his half-demand, sinking back down and taking him with ease. You'd rather hand him the advantage than have to examine that feeling too deeply right now.

Reigen clears his throat and snatches up the phone, clicking the little answer button and launching straight into his preferred persona. “Spirits and Such Consultation,” he says, voice only slightly wobbly. “How can I help?” 

You can hear the customer on the phone say something, their words garbled through the receiver, and Reigen hums in acknowledgment. His eyes lock with yours again and as requested, you return to your work.  

You move your head slowly to begin with. If Reigen wants to be a smart ass about things, why shouldn’t you torture him a little bit? As far as you’re aware, this is his first blow job: it would be terrible to leave him with a disappointing impression, after all. Might as well set the bar high. 

Every pass of your wet mouth is agonisingly slow, drool slipping from the corners of your lips as you lave spit across every inch of his cock. Reigen isn’t impressively endowed by any means: he’s perfectly average, in fact, but it allows you to be enthusiastic in your affection. You can take him deep and hold him there without too much trouble, and it gives you a bit of an advantage even though he’s trying his best to outlast your efforts. 

You bob your head up and down slowly, watching him with fond amusement as he attempts to keep himself together for the sake of professional dignity. 

“I’d be happy to help,” he says, a little strained. “Spirits and Such prides itself on always going the distance.” A smirk ghosts across his face, evidently tickled by his own joke, and you’re not sure how it’s possible for someone to be so fucking annoying even mid-coitus. 

Clueless, the customer thanks him profusely and launches into a chatty over-explanation of their problem. Reigen clearly isn’t listening to a damn word the guy is saying: every fibre of his being is directed into hiding the fact that he’s on the receiving end of a thorough blow job from his secretary.

You decide that the best way to get a little own-back on him is to mirror his game. Reigen likes to be a show off and although you can never even dream of getting close to his level of showmanship, you’re happy to try. With a vulgar smack, you release his cock from your mouth and press a coy kiss to the tip, your tongue chasing it with sloppy attention and the hand that you hold him steady begins to work the soaked base in time with your tongue, the motion squelching quietly with every talented twist of your wrist. 

Reigen exhales heavily through his nose and bites down on his lower lip with a shudder, unable to look away despite the client still droning on in his ear, and this time it’s your turn to offer a prideful grin.

Making a show of it, you run your tongue up and down the underside of the head slowly, the saliva allowing your lips to glide along the skin in a tantalising tease of movement, and just as Reigen opens his mouth to respond to the customer with a meaningless affirmative, you take his full length back into your mouth in one fluid motion, all the way to the base with practised ease. 

Reigen’s hope of playing it cool is scuppered instantly and he fails to catch the pathetic little sob that tumbles from his mouth. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling the strands so hard that your scalp burns and tears prickle the corners of your eyes. 

“Fuck!” Reigen gasps, one knee banging the desk as he convulses forward violently. 

The client on the phone says something and Reigen scrambles to save some face: “So sorry!” He chokes out, not sounding anything of the sort. “Emergency in the office! Call you right back!” And then he’s hanging up, tossing the phone onto the desk and gripping your hair with both hands. 

He rocks his hips up once, twice, and then he’s cumming hard down your throat with a broken and outrageously lewd moan. 

You’re prepared for his reaction and you swallow around him, happily taking whatever he has to offer and staying put even when some of it trickles from the corner of your eager mouth, ruining the front of your blouse. A consummate  professional, through and through. 

When it’s clear he’s done, you reach up to extricate his fingers from your head and Reigen slumps back in his chair, letting you go without argument. 

A mix of drool and cum trails from your lips to his cock as you push his chair backwards to give yourself room, wetness dripping down your chin, and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. 

Reigen, panting hard and splayed out in his seat, rubs the sweat from his brow. “Fuck,” he says again, swallowing thickly and trying to catch his breath. “Fuck.” 

You laugh quietly at his debauched state, entertained by his frustration, and glance toward the clock. “That was like, four minutes,” you say, and it’s hard not to sound proud about the achievement. “I win.” 

Avoiding your gaze, Reigen grimaces at the wetness on the crotch of his slacks and huffs. “That’s not fair,” he mutters, ears red. “And you used your hand too, that’s cheating. It doesn’t count.” 

This guy is a fucking nightmare. “Don’t be a sore loser,” you smirk, climbing to your feet and ignoring the creaking of your knees. 

Despite his soiled suit, Reigen tucks himself away and buckles his belt again without comment. His unusual silence belies his embarrassment. Once he’s a little more decent, he casts a glance your way and gives you a once over, nose slightly wrinkled.

You’re expecting him to say thanks, maybe even offer to return the favour, but instead he stretches out one long leg and kicks you gently on the ass, encouraging you to step out from behind his desk. 

“You’re a mess,” he quips, as though he doesn’t look like he’s just emptied almost every fibre of his being down your neck. “Clean yourself up. I gotta call this guy back.” 

You stumble aside, gaping at his unbelievable (yet admittedly unsurprising) gall. Every time Reigen opens his mouth, you’re always amazed at how well he manages to push your buttons, and just as you start across the room, tongue bitten to hold back a snarky remark, Reigen calls your name. 

You glance back to where he’s sitting, his feet kicked up on his desk, the picture of his usual charismatic, jerk-off self, the phone pressed to his ear. “It was six minutes, actually,” Reigen says matter-of-factly as the line rings. “And you owe me ramen for cheating.” 

Before you can even think of responding, the client answers on the other end of the phone and Reigen shifts back into his salesman’s spiel, effortlessly slipping into character as though nothing unusual has occurred. 

“Terribly sorry about that,” he apologises, trying hard not to smile at the mess on the front of your shirt. He meets your eyes and winks, charming and cheeky. “Something unexpected came over my secretary.” 

Asshole.

haha suck-retary (please clap)

{header image source, edited by me}

[suzukiblu]

WIP Wednesday Game

Taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

file names:

a fake cryptid and a real romantic

mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees

YJ accidental baby acquisition

merfam drama

gentle princely caretaking 

snippet from "a fake cryptid and a real romantic":

Clark hears a sudden rush of air and a thrumming, not-quite-human heartbeat, and is therefore unsurprised when Superboy pops up over the side of the Metropolis rooftop he’s sitting on and grins up at him. The kid always seems to be in a good mood, but is clearly in an even better one than usual. 

“Guess what?!” Superboy greets gleefully, pushing himself up on the edge. 

“What?” Clark asks, smiling wryly at him. The kid just gets so enthusiastic so easily. It’s kind of funny, to be honest. 

“I got a date!” Superboy says delightedly, plopping into a seat beside him and kicking his legs excitedly as he does. “Robin said I could go hunting with him in Gotham this weekend!” 

“You’re going to hang out, you mean,” Clark corrects kindly, since Superboy still has a notably skewed education and concept of correct terminology and probably calling working with another vigilante a “date” without knowing what that actually means isn’t going to end well for the kid in the long run. Especially since Robin isn’t actually an aspect of Gotham like the Batman is and would definitely be confused by it. 

Admittedly, the Batman gets confused by some very straightforward things sometimes, but still. 

“‘Hang out’,” Superboy repeats, cocking his head with a slightly puzzled expression that almost immediately clears into another excited grin. “That, yeah! I caught Catwoman breaking into some fancy cat exhibit in Gotham and dropped her off for him, and he was into it! And I gave him a diamond and he liked that too!” 

“A . . . diamond?” Clark blinks. He really hopes Catwoman didn’t manage to be that bad of an influence on the kid in one meeting, but he wouldn’t put it past her. Superboy’s impressionable and Catwoman is . . . well, Catwoman. “Uh–where’d you get that?” 

“I made it!” Superboy says proudly, puffing himself up as he mimes the act of crushing something in his fists. 

. . . alright then, Clark thinks, mildly bewildered. He has no idea why Superboy would make a diamond, much less give it to Robin, but the kid gets weird ideas into his head sometimes and he supposes it would’ve been good practice for controlling his strength to very specific pressures, so he’s not going to say anything about it.

“Did you?” he says, figuring he should keep the conversation going. Superboy’s an odd kid, but he’s eager and has a good heart and always soaks up attention like a sponge, so Clark always tries to talk to the kid at least a little whenever the other finds him. 

“I figured Robin’d like it,” Superboy says reasonably, kicking his feet again. “Birds like shiny stuff, and he’s kinda a bird, right?” 

Clark is going to assume that Tim Drake more appreciated the expensive gemstone than the “shiny stuff”, assuming a teenage boy would even care about anything like that anyway, but he doesn’t want to rain on Superboy’s parade. Honestly, he’s just glad the kid’s finally trying to make a friend or two in the community who isn’t wearing an “S”. It never hurts to have a little backup on call–or to have a friend who understands the life around, either. 

He’s not actually certain what the Batman’s latest Robin’s policy on maintaining his secret identity among the larger hero community is–even Dick still typically presents himself as a city splinter, just of Bludhaven instead of Gotham now–but even if he keeps passing for a cryptid with Superboy for a little while longer, it’s not like Superboy’s had a normal life experience. He’s not going to be bothered that he can’t talk about girls and homework with his new friend first thing. 

Clark vaguely dreads the possibility of Superboy eventually deciding to come to him to talk about girls, because he has absolutely no idea how to talk to anyone about girls, much less an impressionable teenager who’s guaranteed to hang on his every word for the whole conversation and take everything he says as gospel while also misunderstanding at least half of it, judging by most of their previous conversations. He hasn’t even been able to figure out how to give the kid the Kryptonian version of the talk, though, much less if it’s actually applicable to him. Relationship issues and dating are a whole other kettle of fish. 

Well, with any luck Superboy will stay too young for that kind of thing for a little while longer, Clark hopes halfheartedly. Just–please?

[twinklyylights]

It’s early April, a Wednesday morning to be exact, when Ian wakes up to an empty spot in bed beside him. It’s the 3rd day in the row that he’s woken up without Mickey near, and he lets out a sigh as he sits up and yawns. He checks the time on his phone and frowns.

7:04am

They’re both still getting acclimated to all that is the Westside and this apartment that they’re now responsible for. Albeit Mickey’s fighting tooth and nail against every aspect of the acclimation, and Ian doesn’t know what to do about it.

 Because he knows they’re supposed to be here. He can feel it.

The Southside wasn’t their endgame. It certainly wasn’t Mickey’s endgame.

Ian’s always known that. He’s always known that Mickey’s deserved more. That Mickey’s destined for a future that isn’t tainted by the Southside and the people of it.

And sure, Ian knows that Mickey is worthy of more than this apartment. More than the Westside, even. But Ian also knows this is a step in the right direction.

This is good for them. This is good for him.

Ian doesn’t stay long in bed without Mickey. He eventually gets up with a stretch and groan before tip toeing his way out of their new bedroom.

He expects to find Mickey having breakfast in the kitchen or lying across the couch. What he doesn’t expect to see is Mickey’s standing outside peering over the balcony.

He does his best to open the sliding door quietly, and not startle his husband. The attempt is fruitless though because Mickey still turns around sharply, with a mumbled shit.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Ian apologizes coming in close to pull Mickey into his chest.

He presses a good morning kiss to the side of Mickey’s neck before taking in the scent there.

“Creep,” Mickey breathes out around a smile, “Good morning to you too.”

Ian hums.

“Would have been a better morning if we woke up together.”

Mickey lets out a forced exhale at that. He’s really not in the mood for this again.

But Ian isn’t either because he presses another kiss to Mickey’s neck before asking,

“How long have you been up?”

 Mickey checks the time on his phone. He’s surprised to find that half an hour has already passed.

“Like 30 minutes,” he answers. “Woke up, couldn’t go back to sleep. Figured I might as well catch the sun rise.”

Ian hums against him.

“How was it?”

Mickey makes a face.

“How was the sunrise?”

“Yeah,”

“Nice, I guess. It’s quiet out here, ‘think I heard the birds wake up.”

And that’s what Ian’s been holding on to. The promise of these small changes in Mickey’s every day.

These small luxuries.

“Thinking about anything?” Ian asks.

Mickey snorts.

“’A lot of shit, man.”

Ian sighs. He squeezes Mickey’s middle.

“I know.”

They’re both quiet for a beat after that. Their minds are simultaneously going a mile a minute but neither of them has the energy to put words to any of their thoughts.

“You know I love you, right?”

Mickey smiles for the first time all morning.

“Yeah, man. Wouldn’t have moved me all the way out here if you didn’t. I know that.”

He turns around in Ian’s arms then. Curious to meet the look he knows is on Ian’s face right now.

He pats Ian’s cheek and gives him a small smile.

“I’m freaked out. Not stupid. I know you love me,” Mickey promises.

Ian shakes his head. He leans in and presses a kiss to Mickey’s lips. He leaves his forehead pressed against Mickey’s.

“I don’t want you freaked out,” Ian begins to explain, “But this, Mick this is,-”

Mickey stops his words with a kiss. He shakes his head.

“Don’t gotta explain. You’re my husband,” he says against Ian’s lips.  “If my husband wants me living in this boujee ass apartment, who am I to say no?

Ian rolls his eyes.

“You’re too much,” he says lightly. He looks down towards their feet then. “It’s more than the apartment though, Mick.”

“Yeah?”

Ian nods.

“It’s the sunrise, and the birds, and a garden to grow our own food. It’s everything, Mick. Everything I’ve always wanted for you. Everything you’ve always deserved”

Mickey hears the love in Ian’s words. Feels it in his bones.

And sure, he might not think that he deserves all the things that Ian sees for him, but he knows for certain that Ian deserves them.

“I want good shit for you, too, you know. I want all your yuppie-ass dreams come true. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Hey,” Ian stops him, “I would never think that.”

Mickey lets out a sigh. He doesn’t even bother trying to find the words to respond to that.

“Can I make you breakfast?” Ian asks after a beat, “Bacon and eggs, nothing too fancy, I swear.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. But, he smiles on the backend.

“Yeah, breakfast sounds good. I’m fucking starving.”

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— HER

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!reader

warnings: sexual themes, friends with benefits, unrequited love, slight angst (turns fluffy at the end), all characters are aged-up

summary: you're a distraction to wednesday - she's an addiction to you. both can't quit each other. all you need is one more day with her

word count: 2k

“Please.”

“No.”

It’s been two times already. Two times you’ve made her back arch prettily, made her fingers tighten in your hair painfully. Two times you’ve felt like you’ve stopped breathing with the way she sighed shakily, the shortness of her breath a clear sign that you’ve done a good job.

And yet she still looks on edge – not in the good way. And she still isn’t letting you touch her.

She swats your hands away when you reach to touch her thighs, wanting to soothe the girl in her fragile post-orgasmic state. She doesn’t try and move from where she sits on your sternum though. You don’t mind – she’s so small you can barely feel her weight. But it’s grounding. It’s nice and warm.

“You’re so beautiful...”

The ravenette lets out an angry sigh, one you’re very much familiar with, her nostrils flaring slightly. It’s one of the few little things about her that indicate her mood, and you’re proud to call yourself somewhat of an expert in the most complex discipline that is Wednesday’s emotions.

You tell yourself it’s because of the experience no one else in that field of work ever had – the experience of seeing Wednesday like this, her blouse unbuttoned, her tie hanging loosely between her breasts, her dark fringe slightly messy. Her breath slightly shaky, despite all her attempts to keep her composure.

It’s good to think about. It’s a relief, even though she’s seldom ever undressed whenever you meet like this – not a surprise, considering how there was barely any foreplay when she shoved you onto the bed, hungrily staring you down. But never looking at you. Not really.

“Is it me on your face that’s going to take to get you to stop talking?” She asks, dark eyes squinting, and reaches a hand down to wipe some of her slick off your bottom lip with her thumb, “Because I will gladly take it for a ride. Again. If you don’t stop talking.”

You chuckle, closing your eyes, and let your head hang back against the pillow for a moment.

This doesn’t seem like an empty threat. Wednesday is a type of person to overstimulate herself just to prove a point – not to mention she would enjoy that immensely.

You open your mouth, a bit snarky – but quite flattering – comment ready on your tongue, but Wednesday is grabbing the headboard in a death grip, soft stocking-clad thighs closing around your ears, almost muffling her words, and the smell of her encompasses your whole being.

“I told you to stop.”

It’s not the first time, you think, and it won’t be the last, as she pushes you against the door, her lips on yours — hot, aggressive, feverish. She uses the small gasp you let out as permission, and you use her hands on your hips as leverage, afraid that the rush of her passion might sweep you off your feet in a very much literal way.

Something is clearly bothering her.

You press your hands into her small shoulders, push her gently to look at her. She’s fighting back, but you overpower her still — overpowering yourself is a feat though when Wednesday looks at you through dark half-lidded eyes, pupils blown and the thick layer of burgundy smudged on her mouth. You can bet it’s smudged on yours, too, and a fuzzy feeling takes over for a moment — you like being marked by her.

You do get ahold of yourself, despite how much you want to pull her back into you.

“Hey,” you call out, breathless, “Shouldn’t we maybe talk about it?”

Wednesday huffs, tightens her hold on you.

“No. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Her hands slither under your shirt, caressing your ribs.

“And I don’t want you talking either. The only sounds I want leaving your mouth are those of pleasure. And of my name.”

You feel the pit in your stomach deepen before she fills it with herself.

This isn't what you were expecting when Wednesday asked you to meet her in Xavier's shed after class. If you were being honest, the mere thought of stepping foot in the dilapidated hideout of the tortured artist revolted you, let alone the thought that the girl herself must've been in there countless times.

But she said it was important. It was about the case.

There is clear evidence, she says. The victims’ belongings. His latest work – Dr. Kinbott, the therapist, her face sliced into ribbons – done not in the perspective of a simple witness. But of the killer.

Despite the answers laid out before her, finally, completely obvious, Wednesday suddenly lets a different obsession get ahold of her.

Her plump lips move to your neck, and you crane it to the side, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure, letting her eager mouth slip lower to press quick but strong kisses that have you gripping at the edge of the table, lest you lose your footing at her forcefulness. Cold digits slither under your tie to undo it, and you open your eyes.

Your gaze lands on Wednesday – though not the one hastily undressing you right now, but the monochrome figure frozen on her stool, firm and precise hand sliding the bow against the strings of the cello.

There is slight resemblance, you think, as you stare at the canvas. In her frown, in the way her brows furrow in concentration.

It fills your blood with burning jealousy.

It’s powerful enough to have you immediately sobering up from the euphoric feeling of the ravenette’s canines nibbling at your collarbone – you grasp at her hips, pushing her away, and before the girl can protest, you turn around, pulling her up to sit at the table you were pressed into moments ago.

An evil thought crosses your mind – you find yourself wanting Thorpe behind bars, hyde or not.

You’re pretty sure no one would miss him. You know you wouldn’t.

In your fierce movements the girl’s shoulder bumps into the easel, and the wretched canvas falls on the floor with a loud slam, face down.

Good fucking riddance. The picture was making you sick.

She doesn’t pay the sound any attention, too preoccupied with your lips on her mouth, your hands squeezing her thighs – she knits her brows, completely taken aback by how aggressive and assertive you’ve suddenly gotten. Her palms cup your neck, recollecting herself just a few moments before you pull away, feverishly reaching down to hike her skirt up, tracing your nails up her inner thigh.

A shiver runs down your spine when Wednesday whispers your name.

Why were you feeling like this? She has never been yours in the first place.

But she is. At least for the moment, you think, as she sighs into your ear breathily when the pads of your fingers brush against her heat. The sound is almost enough to overlap the burning feeling in your veins that turns your blood green.

This is like clockwork. Like part of a routine, a schedule, one that Wednesday follows rigidly every single week, never allowing any holdups getting in her way.

You. On your back, in her bed. Taking her. Every single Friday.

By that time all the stress is usually gathered in her essence, pressing into her back, into the back of her eyes. Weighing her down.

So Wednesday takes you every single Friday evening. It’s the perfect day, when the annoyingly noisy werewolf is out and she can relieve her stress with no interruptions. No holdups.

None except for the way your hands reach for her face, trying to tug her down, closer to you. It’s starting to bother the ravenette.

She grabs your palms, lacing her fingers with yours, and presses them back against the bed above your head. You’d easily break out of her hold any day, but right now you’re a complete mush under her. Panting, frustrated. Simply looking at you like this brings her a surge of pleasant high, one that, in her book, could be compared to cracking open a freshly dug-out coffin.

Except corpses never want to kiss her as badly as you do.

“Keep them there,” she mutters, freeing her left hand to trail it back down your body, “Or I’ll stop.”

The words are half-hearted, of course. She’d never stop. She enjoys this too much.

You reply with a whine, and she smirks slightly, her gaze leaving your face for the sake of following her own hand where it brushes down your stomach.

“There we go,” she smiles at the arch of your back, at the gasp you let out when her hand dips in between your thighs, cold fingers brushing your heat where you’re warm and wet, “Obedience feels good, doesn’t it?”

Her manicured digits sink into your heat – you groan, legs wrapping around her waist to pull her into you at least in some way. She clicks her tongue.

Disobedience will be torture, but she can’t really blame you. You’d do anything to feel close to her. To feel wanted by her, at least like this.

You’re as desperate as she is, even if it’s for a complete different reason.

So she turns a blind eye when you free your hands to grab her by the face, lips meeting hers in a desperate kiss, allowing her to swallow your moans as her fingers find a steady pace.

Tonight is... unusual. There was no rush. No hurried hands, no commands spat in the heat of the moment, no irritated glares. She didn’t even seem aggravated by anything, a softness in her eyes you certainly aren’t used to as she watched you unravel under her.

She was slow, taking her time, letting you savor the feeling of her hands, her tongue. Letting you savor her. Knowing Wednesday, you’d think there was a catch. If there was one, you were completely oblivious to it. Numb to any scheme she could’ve planned, the fondness of her touch like a shot of lidocaine to your anxious being.

Her fingers are gingerly tracing the outlines of your hipbone, almost lovingly so, and you let yourself get lost in the bliss of her touch, one that’s not inherently sexual for once. In the bliss of your own delusions.

You shudder when Wednesday brushes an especially sensitive bundle of nerves on your hip, the muscles of your thigh contracting under the skin, and she smooths her palm against it to calm you down. Her lips are at your ear, shushing you gently.

It’s a bit chilly in the room. The discolored part of the big circle-shaped window is open, letting in the fresh air of the early spring night, and the contrast of it to your body still hot from her ardent fervor is quite palpable.

Wednesday notices it, too. Moves to carefully drape her soft blanket over your legs.

Her hand doesn’t cease its movements, tracing mindless shapes over your thigh, and you give up on the idea of trying to decipher them because the warm, tranquil wave rising in your heart and trickling down your body silences your every single thought. The rational ones, too.

The ravenette’s plush mouth presses against your naked shoulder in a soundless, feather-light kiss. Her palm finally comes to a halt on your hip, and she sighs tenderly with what you can only hope, can only beg, is content.

You wonder if you really are delusional. Because, much like her gentle lips resting on your skin, Wednesday stays.

[merakiui]

Is it ok for some Goldfish mer Riddle though?

It is more than okay!

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, captivity, codependency, mentions of breeding)

Riddle is actually quite well-behaved for a mer in captivity. Unlike the eel twins or the octopus, he’s much more accepting of humans and their interest in him. He tends to show off sometimes, especially if there’s a specific person he wishes to impress and receive praise from. He’s very intelligent and has even managed to pick up a few words and phrases he’s heard during his time in captivity. And he is very particular about his routines! He has each of his days memorized and by some miracle, despite never seeing the clock, he always knows when to wait at the surface for the researchers so they may run their usual examination of him. He seems to get huffy if they’re late, even if by a few minutes.

Though he’s obedient and follows everything the researchers want him to do when signaled, he seems quite lonesome in captivity. On days when he isn’t being seen by anyone, he’ll swim close to the glass, peering out at the lab equipment that waits behind the confines or he’ll swim in circles with a very thoughtful expression on his face. It always looks like he’s thinking through something, and he loves to observe the space that remains outside of his tank.

It isn’t a surprise when you’re assigned to study more of his behavior while also keeping his mood uplifted. You’re known to excel at caring for merfolk, hence why you’re usually assigned troublesome, fussy mers because your colleagues think you’re some sort of “mer whisperer.” Truthfully, you’re just genuine and you know how to connect through patience. On Sundays, Mondays, and Tuesdays you’ll meet with the octopus to keep him company and study him (though he rarely comes to the surface, which means you usually don diving gear and sink to the bottom. He’s grown accustomed to your visits now and doesn’t seem averse to you anymore, in fact even peering out of his octopus pot in anticipation when he knows of the times you usually arrive). On Wednesdays and Thursdays, you meet with the twins to keep them company. Though since they have each other, they’re a lot less dejected about captivity. They make for very mischievous playmates. You love studying their behaviors and how they interact with each other, with you, and with other researchers.

Now that your Fridays and Saturdays have been dedicated to seeing Riddle, you’ve decided to take a different approach. With the octopus and twins, there’s a certain level of caution you exercise due to their sizes and the fact that they are still known as predators from the deep sea. But with Riddle, who is much smaller and was found in a warmer, brighter freshwater habitat, he’s considerably more docile and social. He doesn’t exactly warm up to you at first, as your appearance disturbs his routine—his carefully crafted schedules that are so very important to him. He acts as if that breaks some horrible rule when you first arrive and introduce yourself, looking so horrified and confused that his expression shifts through various feelings all at once. But when you make it clear that you’re to be a recurring figure in his schedules, he relaxes and offers his webbed hand in greeting, mirroring the handshakes he’s watched the researchers do.

Riddle is very charming. He learns very quickly throughout the time he spends with you and the time spent observing other humans. He’s trying to teach himself more words so that he can converse with you, which has led him to insist upon communicating verbally rather than through actions or gestures so that he can better understand. Much like the octopus, he grows attached rather quickly and seems to be very receptive to praise of any kind, whether it be a reward or a proud gesture.

Riddle feels like his meetings with you take far too long to arrive and they always feel so fleeting. How time can pass so quickly when he’s with you but draw out forever while he’s waiting to see you is simply unfair. He tries to keep you longer, obviously desperate to remain in your company, but you can never stay for too long. Sometimes you’ll go over the allotted time and Riddle’s so very pleased when you say you’ll stay for a while longer. He does everything you ask of him, and he never causes any troubles. He doesn’t try to escape from his enclosure, he doesn’t splash any of the researchers (unless agitated), and he’s always been so cooperative. He’s a perfect, model mer! Surely you’ll continue to stay if he continues to follow the rules.

Even though he does very well on his own, he depends on you a lot. At first it was for learning purposes. He’d request materials to look at, such as textbooks, picture books, or certain objects he’d either heard of or seen while in captivity, and you would always be sure to bring them. And while he still relies on you for that, he also relies on you for company and affection and connection. He spirals into codependency so quickly that it takes you by surprise. Riddle has never gotten violent or temperamental with you or any of the researchers, but when you attempt to leave him one day and he grabs your wrist so tightly and yanks you into the enclosure with so much desperation it makes you realize he’s starting to pick up unhealthy mannerisms. The octopus and the twins have been like this before. Once, he trapped you in his octopus pot, folding himself around you to keep you there with him even though your oxygen tank’s supply was dwindling. And the twins had trapped you in an endless game of chase when they’d pulled you in and wouldn’t let you climb back out, insisting on playing with you until you could no longer keep yourself afloat due to sheer exhaustion. Perhaps you’ve kept your guard lowered around Riddle solely because he never posed any threat to you.

And he still doesn’t. In fact, when he has you in the water with him he doesn’t seem to know what to do. He looks absolutely saddened and scared and confused all at the same time, and he’s holding your arms so gently as he peers at you. But he seems to realize something and he’s quick to bring you back to the surface, pushing you towards the ledge so that you may climb out. He looks conflicted when you do this, his hand outstretched as if he expects you to grab it. Instead, you gently touch his palm and promise that you’ll be back next week. Poor Riddle is so ashamed with himself because he’s broken a rule, but he couldn’t help it. He wants you to stay so much. He misses you immensely in the days leading up to your scheduled arrival and almost doesn’t have the motivation to follow his other routines. But he focuses on those so that he won’t have to think of how lonely he is without you, as the familiarity and logical nature of a routine makes for a good distraction.

Riddle would never hurt you. He cares too much for you, almost to an obsessive degree. When you visit him next and your hand is wrapped in bandages and you offhandedly, casually mention one of the twins got you he frets over the injured area with a displeased frown and a dark look. He cradles your hand in his webbed ones, pressing it against his cheek and just holding it there. It’s a very endearing gesture. You wonder where he’s learned that.

For a while, you never had any problems with Riddle, aside from his usual desperation to get you to stay. No matter how hard he tries to keep you, he always lets you go. It seems he can’t bring himself to break the unspoken rules that have been put in place ever since you met him. Although things are a little different when breeding season is upon him. All merfolk act differently during this time; it’s an important moment in their lives. You’ve always avoided the octopus and twins when they were going through their cycles. The researchers would usually provide them with something to use to make up for the lack of a mate: an inflatable or molded silicone that was safe for them to use. It was too risky and dangerous to study them up close when they were so hyper-focused on breeding, and any cameras that may have been installed in advance for that purpose had been found and destroyed by both the octopus and the twins.

But Riddle is not as destructive or volatile as they usually are. In fact, as unfocused as he is, he’s actually more restless than violent or protective. He presses himself against the glass in hopes of seeing you, staying there for hours on end with his pupils blown wide. He remains perfectly still and even curls up at the very bottom to watch through the shadows. He never does anything to resolve the heat that overwhelms him, and if he does no one sees it. He becomes very private and subdued the deeper into his cycle he gets. You don’t visit him because, as kind and gentle as he is, he’s still a creature so uniquely different from humans, and all merfolk usually act rashly when in the throes of their natural biology.

Though if you had, he would have still treated you how he usually does. Riddle thinks of you and it helps get him through the unbearable. He wishes you’d visit. He wishes you were here with him. He wishes he could press himself against you and feel your delightfully human warmth. He wishes he could see you every day of the week, listen to your voice, touch your hands…

He resolves to have you during his next cycle, even if he has to break a few rules to achieve that.

[solarisstyles]

MS. HONEY: FIELD DAY

Pairing: Harry Styles x F!Reader Word Count: 3.8k+ Warnings: tooth rotting fluff!, mentions of heights, kissing Summary: It takes a village to raise a special needs child. Gemma's son is growing up and starting kindergarten in the fall. Uncle Harry is struggling with not being able to spend all day, everyday, with his nephew who he's grown quite attached to. When he accompanies Gemma and Arlo on his first day of school, he meets Ms.Honey. Harry decides Kindergarten might not be so bad after all. A/N: For the sake of the story, Gemma and Harry live in the states. I know more about the school system in America than the UK so it just made sense! This story is not meant to be a 100% depiction of what a family of this dynamic is like. Harry and Gemma Styles are very real people and are only being used for fictional purposes!

*please like and reblog to help your local fic writers*

Dear Parents, 

 This coming up Wednesday will be the lower school’s day for Field Day! We plan on having a lot of activities for your kids to do and a day full of FUN! Most of our time will be spent outside so I’ve written up a list of things your child should bring or have done at home before they come to school.

What to Wear:

School T-shirt

Tennis Shoes or Athletic Sandals (No Flip Flops please!)

Hat (Optional but it will be hot outside!)

Sunscreen

*boys may wear swim trunks for their bottoms* 

What to Bring:

Towel

Full change of clothes(Don’t forget socks and undies)

Lunch

A plastic bag for dirty/wet clothes

We will eat lunch in the classroom and change into dry clothes after our water activities. 

We’re going to have some SWEET fun!

-Ms.Honey

- - - - - - - - -

Harry immediately texted you after Gemma showed him the Field Day note, demanding that he be put down as a volunteer.

You laughed at the text, images of an overly excited Harry bouncing throughout your head when you read it. You assured him that he would be first on the list as her class helper. Ten minutes later Harry’s face lit up your phone screen as he called you. An amused smile curved your lips as you answered, “Hello?”

“I’m annoyed.” he instantly huffed.

Your immediate reaction was to laugh but you held it together, “Why are you annoyed?”

“Gemma wants to volunteer too.” he grumbled.

The pout was evident in his tone and you couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re annoyed that Gemma wants to volunteer for her son’s class?” you asked.

“Well…no. It’s not just Gemma.” he sighed, rubbing his chin.

“Who else?” you inquired.

“Brad and Lloyd too. They are all magically free this Wednesday.”

“Well that’s lovely! The more help the better!” you cheerfully replied.

His response could only be described as a five year old throwing a tantrum. “But I don’t wanna share!”

You laughed, much to his dismay. It caused him to pout even more and sigh. “That's just more people you have to give your attention to, that isn’t me. And I don’t want my sister and friends to interfere with that.”

It was adorable honestly that he wanted all of your attention. And you knew it was killing him that he had to wait till the end of the school year to officially get all of it. If you had it your way, you’d throw all caution to the wind and give it to him. It was hard to resist those big green eyes that held so much warmth and care.

“Harry, have I ever told you how adorable you are?” you asked, feeling an insane amount of endearment for him.

Harry’s mood drastically shifted from annoyed to shy, “Well… no…” he answered with a soft giggle. His cheeks were the brightest red from blushing, unable to stop himself from smiling.

“Well, you are. I adore that you want all of my attention and I want you to know that if I could then I would give it all to you without a second thought. In only a few short months you’ll have my full undivided attention. So much of it that you’ll get sick of it. I’m so excited to meet you other friends. I know the class will have a blast with all of you. And don’t worry, you’ll still be first on my list.” you couldn’t help but tease him a little bit. He was fun to tease and it was only fair since he enjoyed teasing you too.

“Good” he softly said with a big smile.

“Do you feel better now?” The softness of your voice helped further soothe him. Harry knew he could be a bit…much to handle sometimes. His Mom always encouraged him to express himself and sometimes he had some big feelings to express that some people can’t handle.

He nodded even though you couldn’t see him, “Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you asked, confused as to why he was apologizing.

“Oh, um…for getting jealous like that. It’s not really my place to get that way.” he explained, swallowing nervously.

Smiling sweetly at him, you couldn’t help but shake your head, “It’s okay Harry. Seriously. I’ll see you on Wednesday okay?” you reassuringly said.

“Of course. Have a good night Honey.”

“You too Harry.”

- - - - - - - -

When the day came, the school was buzzing with activity. There was a giant blow up water slide in the field, obstacle course games were being set up, teachers and staff were moving about to make sure everything was getting ready.

Volunteers began to show up as kids were being dropped off, going to their kid’s classroom to get the day's instructions from the teacher. Harry, along with Gemma, and his brothers all walked in with Arlo who was excited to show off his cool drawings and play games all day with his friends. 

“Welcome in you guys!” You greeted, walking up to the group. Harry smiled at you and pulled you in for a hug and a sneaky kiss to your cheek.

“Good morning.” he whispered, about melting into you when you hugged him back.

“Good morning Mr.Honey.” you whispered back. You hadn’t mentioned the name to Harry since he had lunch with you but judging by the giggle he gave in response and the blush on his cheeks, he loved the way it sounded on your lips.

“Harry, are you gonna introduce us?” Brad asked, one hand resting on his hip in a sassy stance and holding a starbucks cup.

Rolling his eyes, Harry turned so you were tucked into his side, his arm resting around your shoulder. “Honey, this is Brad.” he motioned to the tall, built man that had just spoken. “And this is Lloyd.” gesturing to the equally as tall man next to him.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you two! I’ve heard great things about you both.” Giving them a small wave and a smile.

Brad smiled at Harry, then back to you, “Oh, we’ve heard great things about you too.” He said, earning an elbow to the ribs from Lloyd, “OW!” he yelped, glaring over at his best friend.

Lloyd rolled his eyes, shaking his head and gave you a warm smile as well, “Sorry about him. We usually leave him in the car.”

Brad gave him a faux dumbfounded look, making you laugh. “No worries. You guys are actually my only volunteers today. There’s only seven kids in here so don’t worry I’m not going to overwhelm you.”

They all nodded, seemingly happy with the idea of having the class to themselves for the day.

“They’re letting two classes at a time outside so it’s not as overwhelming. I’ll need you all to help make sure everyone’s on their best behavior, having fun, and keep the stations functionable for the next group that will come after us.” they all nodded once more and mumbled their agreement of understanding.

While your class waited to go outside, you turned off the lights and put on a disney movie for the kids to watch. Looking around the room, you noticed to much of your amusement you saw Harry, Gemma, Brad, and Lloyd just as entranced by the movie as the kids were. Pulling your phone out of your purse you sneakily took a photo to send to Harry later. They looked like they fit right in with your kids and you knew today was going to be fun.

By time the movie was over it was time to line up and go outside. The kids were bouncing in their assigned line spots, chattering about what they were gonna do first when they got outside. The moment you pushed open the door that led to the field they all took off running, eager to join the other class outside.

You watched in pure amusement as Gemma, Brad, and Lloyd also took off to have fun as well. Harry hung back with you though, hanging out in the shade. “You gonna join the fun?” you asked, looking over at him.

He shrugged, looking over to you, “I will in a minute. I want to watch my friends get jumped by a bunch of five year olds.” he smirked.

You laughed, shaking your head, “That’s evil.”

“I like to call it karma for our younger years.” bumping his shoulder with your own, he made his way over to a bucket of water balloons, handing them out to kids.

You stood there and admired him, watching how he effortlessly charmed the kids he interacted with. Even the shyest of kids seemed drawn to him. You understood why though. Harry just had this safe feeling about him.

Making your way across the field to the water slide, you helped students off of it, cheering them on when they would slide down. Looking to your left, you noticed a nervous Gemma standing at the end of the slide, looking up. Following her line of vision, you saw Arlo climbing up the slide. “You okay there?” you asked her.

Not looking away from her son, she nodded. “He hates heights. He’s never liked being up high. He wouldn’t stop whining about going down the slide though.” her voice wavered some as she ranted.

“He’ll be okay Gemma.” you tried to assure her.

Arlo reached the top of the slide, crawling on his knees to the edge he would slide down then froze. The height of the slide had been horribly miscalculated in his head. The drop was a lot longer than it had looked from the ground.

You watched as he froze and began to back away from the edge till his back was pressed against the nylon material. “Uh, oh…” you muttered.

“Arlo!” Gemma nervously called up to him. “You’ve gotta come down Bub!” she forced a smile to try and hide how terrified she was. There was only one way down from this slide and she didn’t know what she was going to do if Arlo didn’t eventually come down.

Arlo shook his head, curling in on himself some as his classmates shook the slide going down it, scaring him further.

Noticing the situation escalating, you moved around the slide, stopping more students from climbing up and redirecting them to other activities, “When our friend comes down I’ll let you guys slide some more.” you said guiding them away.

Harry had noticed the redirection from across the field and jogged over to Gemma, “Hey, what’s going on?” he asked.

“Arlo’s at the top of the slide and won’t come down.” Gemma rushed to say, her chest heaving some in slight panic.

Placing a calming hand on Gemma’s shoulder, he squeezed it, “I’ll go up and get him.” he said, making his way around to you. “I’m here to retrieve the child.” he said, saluting you.

Shaking your head, you stepped aside, “Good luck!” you called to him as he ascended up the ladder.

When Harry got to the top of the slide, he smiled at Arlo who was tucked into a corner, “Hey Bub. You okay?” he asked, scooting over to him.

Arlo shook his head, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Hey, look at me.” he gently instructed. 

It took him a few minutes but Arlo eventually looked up to Harry, his brown eyes big with fear.

“I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. I know it’s scary but we have to go down the slide. Do you want to sit on my lap and we can both slide down together?” Harry asked.

He could see the figurative gears turning in Arlo’s head before getting a tentative nod, slowly uncurling his body from the corner he’d tucked himself in. Crawling into Harry’s open arms who sighed in relief.

Harry sat there for a moment and held Arlo before moving to sit on the edge of the slide. He situated Arlo on his lap and looked down the slide. Brad and Lloyd now stood next to a panicking Gemma who was looking up at him.

“You can do this Arlo!” he heard you cheer up at them, making him smile.

“See Bub, they’re all cheering for you and waiting for us. Are you ready?” he asked one more time in a soft voice.

His fearful gaze looked down the slide but hesitantly nodded ‘yes’ to his Uncle.

Harry didn’t hesitate and pushed off the edge, playfully ‘woooing’ all the way down till they crashed into the water pool at the bottom of the slide.

You clapped and cheered along with Brad and Lloyd, praising Arlo for his bravery as you offered both of them a helping hand off the slide.

Gemma sighed in relief, taking Arlo into a big hug when he was within arms reach, not caring if she got wet, “I’m so proud of you Bub.” she whispered to her son. Kissing the side of his temple, she sat him back down and watched as he ran off to do something else, not even phased by what had just happened.

Brad and Lloyd went back to their activities they were monitoring, Harry made his way back over to the water balloon bucket, and you opened the slide back up for the kids.

Gemma stood there though trying to shake off the adrenaline rush she was feeling due to the panic she was in. “Gemma.” she heard you call, getting her to look at you. 

“You can go sit down if you need a moment.” you offered with a soft smile.

Nodding her head, she took a deep breath, “I think I will. Thanks.” she said, giving you a weak smile in return before crossing the field to the benches that sat under the trees.

Turning back to the slide, you continued to help kids off of it, until you were hit in the back with a water balloon. You screamed at the sudden cold water on your hot skin and soaking your clothes. Whipping your head around, you saw Harry standing a few yards behind you, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. 

“You’re gonna pay for that Styles!” you yelled at him, walking towards the bucket of balloons and grabbing a few yourself.

The students were laughing and cheering watching you both pursue each other in a balloon fight. Throwing your first shot, he dodged it, the balloon hitting the ground with a splash.

Harry was quick to retaliate, and while you were talented at many things, your reflexes weren’t what you wished they could be. The balloon struck you in the stomach, making you groan in frustration and grow even more determined to get a good hit on him.

Harry lifted his arms doing a victorious cheer for his shot and that’s when you chose to strike. Throwing the balloon when he wasn’t prepared to dodge it, nailing him right in the side. He gasped and looked at you with a dramatic sad face. “You’ve betrayed me!” he yelled, carelessly throwing the rest of his balloons your way.

You laughed loudly, taking the blows of the ones that hit you and then ran towards him throwing the other balloons you also held.

Picking you up around your waist, Harry and you cackled with laughter as he spun you around. Losing his footing, you both fell to the ground, still in a heap of laughter.

Harry looked down at you as he now hovered on top of you. You both smiled at each other as the laughter settled between you both. You saw Harry glance from your eyes to your lips, making you panic slightly. He must have missed the slightly panicked look on your face because he started to lean in.

Desperate to avoid him kissing you in front of your students, you took the last remaining water balloon you held in your hand and smashed it on top of his head.

Harry looked down at you, shocked and speechless. The students around y’all laughed loudly and Harry couldn’t help but smirk at you, shaking his head and standing to his feet. He offered you his hand to help you up which you gladly accepted with a smirk of your own.

Pulling you in close, he whispered in your ear, “You’ll pay for that later.”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you replied, “Don’t threaten me with a good time Harry.” giving him a flirty wink before walking away.

Gemma walked up to Harry and slapped him in the shoulder, “You’re what the kids call, down bad.” before walking over to help with the relay race some of the kids were running in.

Harry looked over to you, back at your spot by the slide, “Yeah I am.” he mumbled to himself.

- - - - - - - -

After their time outside was up, Harry and his friends helped you walk kids to the restrooms to change into their dry clothes.

Putting on another movie for them to finish the day off with you even made some popcorn to pass out as a treat while they ate their lunches.

One by one the adults changed their clothes as well if needed, and you were thankful to get out of your own wet clothes and into some dry ones. When you got back to the classroom, you were pleased to see the kids and adults once again engrossed in the film you’d chosen. Who doesn’t like Finding Nemo?

As dismissal time approached, you started encouraging your kids to gather their things and clean up their desk area, that way they can leave faster when their name was called for pick up. Gemma took that as his opportunity to leave, along with Brad and Lloyd.

“Thank you for letting us help out today. It was so much fun!” Lloyd gushed, pulling you into a soft hug.

“Aww of course! You’re all welcomed to help anytime we have an event.” you encouraged, giving Brad and Gemma a farewell hug as well. “See you tomorrow Arlo!” you called as he left with his Mother. Turning back to your desk, Harry now sat behind it with a smirk on his face.

“Comfy?” you asked with an amused tone.

Nodding, he leaned back in the chair, “You should join me.” he offered with a wink.

Shaking your head with a soft laugh, you continued to dismiss the last of your kids, closing the door when the last one left so you and Harry could have some privacy.

Walking back over to your desk, Harry’s eyes were glued to you, following your every move and scanning your body up and down. While the attention flattered you, it did make you a little nervous to be under his gaze like that. A good kind of nervous though you decided. 

Now that the lights were on in the classroom, you could see how red Harry’s face was. You scrunch your face sympathetically, “Did you wear any sunscreen?” you asked, giving him a weird feeling of deja vu.

Shaking his head ‘no’, you opened your desk drawer and pulled out a small tube of aloe. “How did I know I would need this today?” you teased, popping open the cap and squeezing some into the palm of your hand. Closing the bottle and setting it back down on your desk, you returned to him, meeting his eyes that were now looking up at you expectantly.

“Stand up for me.” you instructed, biting your lip to not laugh at how fast he did what you’d asked.

“This is gonna be cold.” you warned, scooping some of the aloe up with your fingers, and softly rubbed it on his cheeks. He jumped slightly at the coolness then relaxed under your touch. His skin was hot to the touch and you knew he must have been feeling some sort of relief from the cool gel. You slowly continued to spread the aloe over his face, and he admired the concentration painted across your own.

Getting flashbacks to the Zoo when you’d rubbed sunscreen on his face, he decided he could get used to you dotting over him like this.

Glancing up to meet his gaze, you smiled, looking away quickly as you continued your task, “You’re staring.” you softly commented.

“Can you blame me?” he asked, grasping you softly by the waist and pulling you closer.

You weren’t sure how it was possible for one person to leave you feeling breathless all the time but Harry was damn good at it.

Looking back up at him, you both gazed into each other’s eyes for a solid two minutes, his eyes glancing to your lips for the second time that day and back to your eyes. This time, you didn’t feel nervous, you wanted him to make the move.

Sensing your lack of hesitation, he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you going to stop me this time if I try to kiss you?”

“No.” you breathed out, shaking your head.

“Good.” he said leaning in, you met him halfway, his pillowy soft lips pressed against your own.

They always talk about sparks but you felt like a whole firework show was erupting between you two. Pressing your lips more firmly against his own, he pulled your body flush against his, as he just as enthusiastically returned the kiss. Clearly the fireworks were a mutual feeling.

As you both slowly pulled your lips apart from one another, he leaned his forehead against your own, a goofy smile plastered across his face, “I’ve wanted to do that for months now.” he admitted.

You laughed, gently brushing his hair off his face, “That was perfect. You’re perfect.”

“So are you.” he said back.

Giving him another soft peck on his lips, you bumped your nose against his own, “Walk me to my car? They’re going to be closing up the school soon.”

He accepted your offer, helping you gather your things along with his own to carry out.

Turning off the light to your classroom, you held the door open for him then closed it once more, gesturing with your head for him to follow you.

Unlocking your car, you opened the back seat and sat your bags down, taking the rest that he held and putting them in the car too before shutting the door. Turning to him, you smiled, “Thank you for helping today. You made it a lot of fun.”

“Not that hard when you’re fun to be around.” he said in return, opening your door for you to get in the driver's seat. “Let me know when you make it home safe.” he said, leaning in the door once you were settled in the seat and putting on your seat belt.

“Of course.” you said, smiling up at him.

Leaning in he couldn’t resist giving you one more kiss, and who could refuse such a gesture?

“Drive safe Honey.” he said, gently against your lips.

“You too.” you said back, pecking his lips one last time yourself.

Smiling as he pulled away, he closed your door for you and tapped the top of your car before walking to his own, going your separate ways till you meet again.

TAG LIST: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @justlemmeadoreyou @squirreljoe @end-of-the-earth @behindmygreyeyes

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 3.2 - What Not to Wear

VLAD

It’s Wednesday, two days until his date with Alice, and Vlad is no closer to having something to wear. William volunteered to go shopping, but Vlad declined. He doesn’t have the money to find something that meets his exacting standards, and the salespeople always complain when he tears out the tags before trying anything on. 

It’s honestly a fucking headache. 

He drops his bag by the front door and toes off his boots. His mother hums in the kitchen, frying up something divine. 

He stuffs the simoleons they found on the body the other day into the jar on the counter. Truthfully, the Strauds didn’t lack money; it was just that cleaning it already took a lot of effort, and they didn’t want any unnecessary attention. 

Plus, his mother thinks a lack of simoleons keeps them grounded. “Capitalism rots the brain and erodes free will” is her favorite saying. That and “It doesn’t make much sense to pay when you can steal.”

“You’re home!” she turns and smiles, pulling him into a hug and ruffling his hair. Vlad fidgets but doesn’t fight. “I thought you were eating on campus,” she says when he finally twists out of her grasp.

“William has a study group and the cafeteria is serving macaroni salad. Do you know how long that food has been sitting? Ages. It’d be the perfect cover for a poisoning. I’m surprised I’m alive.”

His mother snorts. “No one would murder you by poisoning a college cafeteria. The likelihood of you getting medical attention before your body gives out is too high. Even fast-acting poisons are slower than you think.”

She would know. Julia Straud is an expert in poisons. It’s an interest of Vlad’s, too. Usually, they talk about it for hours, but today, he isn’t in the mood.

He heads for the couch and collapses, letting the muted feeling that’s been dogging him all week wash over. The high from the brawl with Christopher might’ve carried him, but one punch was nothing to get excited about. Instead, the buzzing under his skin has simply grown when, for once, he’d just like silence.

“Why so sad, my sweet darling?”

Vlad’s eyes flash open. His mother is standing over him, smirking. 

“Is sleeping illegal in this house?” he grumbles, “I didn’t think that was one of the rules.”

“Don’t be disrespectful. You know it’s not,” she shoves at his legs until he sits up. “Why do you look like someone just shit in your oats?”

It isn’t any use keeping secrets, although it’s not expressly against the rules. His mother has a way of hunting down every hidden truth. She couldn’t wrangle their merry band of lunatics otherwise. “I have a date—”

“Oh, my lands—”

“Do not get excited.” He cuts her a sharp look. “It may go nowhere. Your expectations should be in the basement,” Vlad pauses, “Actually, lower than that. Your expectations should be in hell.” 

It’s not that he didn’t understand William’s advice about being a better version of himself. It just seems impossible to follow it. Pretending is fine in short bursts, like when the police are questioning him, but pretending for the sole purpose of getting someone to like him? Even if he could manage it, the whole thing would be so exhausting he’d need a week of sleep to recover. 

And what if Alice was like Fuifui? What if she got confused about who he really was?

“You could buy something you like,” she offers, “Go to one of the fancy boutiques in town where the salespeople peddle temptation to ruin like the devil taught them.”

“It’s called clothing, mother, not ‘temptation to ruin.’ And obviously, that’s not an option. I don’t know why you, of all sims, would suggest that.”

Her eyes narrow, “Because I love you. If you want to buy something to wear on this date, then I will make it happen. By any means necessary.”

It’s not worth it. Holding this territory is hard enough without assholes like Jacques Villareal getting ideas in his head because he thinks Julia's spendthrift son is a weak spot.

“Never mind,” Vlad groans, “And I actually mean it. If I find money under my pillow or in my wallet, I will be fucking pissed.”

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(Part 2 of 4)

[b4b3tte]

ONLY I CAN CARE FOR YOU

pairing : ⛤ Wednesday Addams x Fem!reader ⛤

Summary : Reader come’s down with a cold, she is getting a lot of attention from her friends trying to take care of her,but someone in the corner isn’t very fond of that new attention.

Warnings : jealousy,swearing,possessiveness, and a kiss at the end

Genre : One shot, Angst? And fluff at the end

Authors note : This is my first time writing a one shot (I think that’s what it is ) so I’m sorry if it isn’t good so please give me feedback and Wednesday and the reader are dating and English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry of any mistakes

*knock knock* “ I wonder who could that be “ i said, my roommate Paige stood up and replied “ don’t get up! Keep in mind you’re still sick so it’s better not to risk anything I’ll answer it “ “oh thank you Paige” Being sick is the worst I’m glad I have my friends Bianca,Paige and yoko with me but it doesn’t cure my pale face, sore throat and MASSIVE headache but it’s been easier with them with me.

Thing is you’ve been sick for 2 days which was during the weekend and Wednesday was busy working on her novel so she simply didn’t pay attention to you and thing tried mentioning you but all Wednesday replied with is “ Thing stop trying to distract me or I will break each one of your fingers or even worse take away your hand lotion. “ so today when you didn’t show up to the classes you two had together she was curious why you didn’t show up (she was worried instead of curious but shush)and stopped by your dorm and knocked hoping you’d answer it instead of your infuriating roommate. I guess the hope went down the drain.

“ oh hey Wednesday? “ Paige said with a confused tone since she never dropped by your dorm room, at least when she is there. Bianca heard Wednesdays name and scoffed and said “ ugh this bitch “ under her breath while yoko slightly shoved her shoulder because you were in-front of her. Wednesday looked up and down at Paige in a loathing manner “ Hello Paige, is Y/n here? If so I would like to speak with her. “ “ uhh yeahh she is here “ Wednesday was already annoyed with her and the fact she wasn’t invited in already to see you, she tilted her head to peak into the dorm and saw you in bed, yoko standing next to you and Bianca. She suddenly felt a disgusting feeling in her stomach…and not the good kind she enjoys, her eyes slightly widened at the feeling but snapped out of it and quickly asked Paige to let her in. “ well, may I come in? “ Paige just moved out of the way for Wednesday to walk in.

She walked further in and took a closer look at your face “ Cara mia.. “ she thought of course. but she was worried about you and your current state. You sat up and and smiled “ Wednesday! You’re here! “ as much Wednesday was contented that you were in a somewhat good mood, she hated how you had other people taking care for you and how you never told her. “ yes unfortunately I am but what’s wrong with you“ Wednesday responded back with a cold tone. You were going to answer her question but was cut off by Bianca “ isn’t it obvious Addams she is sick but of course you wouldn’t know “ Bianca faked smiled after her sentence. Paige slightly chuckled and Wednesday quickly shot a death stare at her “ This is not funny, and as for you Bianca I could take much better care of y/n. I’m sure my support and hospitality is much better than you and your insufficient disturbing gifts of chocolate and flowers that have absolutely no meaning. “

at this point yoko silently left the room dragging Paige along with her and when Bianca was about to say something you stood up hoping it would cause both of them to forget about the remarks they said to each other but of course Bianca snapped back..or at least tried to. “ Wednesday I’m getting sick and tired of you and your better then everyone els-“ Wednesday isn’t the one to cut people off but this time she was “ I don’t think I’m better then anyone else, I just think I’m better then you. “ Bianca feeling embarrassed she just looked at you and grabbed her jacket and left.

After the sound of the door closing, You sit back down and Wednesday turns her head at your direction and walks towards you. “ why didn’t you tell me about you being sick. “ you can tell Wednesday was upset and angry that she wasn’t the first person you went to about your health, “ I’m sorry “ Wednesday just got even more upset at the fact that’s all you had to say. “ sorry won’t cut it, I can’t believe you would be that stupid not to tell me, you know my hospitality is much better than..this” she silently says the last 3 words while looking at the hideous bright colored flowers and awful brand of chocolate on your night stand“ wait..are you jealous that- “ Wednesday threw a intense denial look at you and quickly stated “ no. I am not the expert at emotions but I know I dont get jealous, especially over someone like Bianca. “

she knew she was lying and she hated it. She hated dishonesty,Bianca,this awful stomach twisting feeling,how you knew she was lying and most of all you being in someone else’s hands and not hers. “ Wednesday….ma chère…i know your lying and I get it but you know i love your hospitality and care more then anybody else’s and I’m sorry I didn’t come to you in the first place I’ve should’ve known better and I hope you can forgive me..” as you were saying that you had stood up and slowly touched her hand hoping she wouldn’t back or flinch away and thankfully she didn’t and in fact held your hand first.

“ fine. Just this time. if you do infact tell anyone about this I will murder you..with no hesitation whatsoever. Now you should really rest while I can get you soup which I think would be more useful to your health then this chocolate. “ you nodded and went into bed and Wednesday just watched you until at the end she fluffed up your pillow and looked at your eyes then lips and she just decided why not. During the relationship you always gave each other pecks on the forehead,hand, or cheek so it’s no surprise that Wednesday has always desired to feel your soft looking lips onto her cold ones she secretly wished you’d make the first move but when Wednesday needs to take matters into her own hands she will.

After the kiss she gave you she said “ Remember only I can care for you” she then turned around as she felt herself going to smile but caught herself, she could feel butterflies (she wish it was spiders) in her stomach. A feeling she never thought she would receive. As she was about to walk out your dorm room (to get soup and black Delilah’s for you) she grabbed the chocolates and flowers from your nightstand and threw them into the trash..there was no good use for them anyway.

EXTRA🤗!!! :

This would be Wednesday going through your messages (your sleeping btw) of your worried friends telling them to fuck off and only she(your girlfriend) can worry and take care of you.

“ hello this is Wednesday Addams, Y/n’s girlfriend I just want to let you know that you should go fuck off. Y/n doesn’t need you, your morbid words or gifts you should know that only I can properly take care of her during her time of need so go waste your time doing something else then bothering my girlfriend. - Sincerely Wednesday. “

You wake up in Wednesdays bed looking up and seeing her type away for her novel, you notice your phone next to you, you decide to unlock it and check some apps out but you see so many messages on your phone from different social media apps and you see that one text Wednesday has sent to your friends, you figured she typed it on your laptop since you have a passcode..” Wednesday Addams what is this? “

IM SO SORRY IF THIS WAS BAD THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SOMETHING LIKE THIS😭😭