#he's only raised hellions

[spacedace]

Bruce is grateful for the fact that Damian has made friends, he is.

He's happy that his son has met children his own age at school and befriended them. That he is growing from that prickly, unhappy, scarred child he'd first been when he'd come to live with Bruce. That his friends are even normal kids - baring Jon, who is still normal enough despite being the son of Superman and occasionally a super hero himself - with no links to anything strange or dangerous or illegal.

"Oh, sup B."

He just wished that his son's friends were also just a little less...feral.

"Hello Elle."

Elle Nightingale gave him a little wave with the lemon she was holding - or as best as she could considering the space she was working with - and smiled cheekily at him. Bruce felt a headache budding behind his eyes.

"I thought Alfred banned you from the kitchen?" She shifted a bit, nudging a bottle of milk - farm fresh, courtesy of the Kents, passed along via Jon as thanks for looking after him for the weekend. Bruce wished he'd had the foresight to expect that Jonathan Kent staying over for the weekend would mean that Elle, her cousin Billy and their friend BL - the children refused to say the girl’s real name, likely to spite Damian, and thr initials had been a compromise to calling her Box Lunch - would take it as them being permitted to stay over for so long as well. Damian had just given Bruce a an unimpressed look when he'd expressed his surprise at the sudden influx of twelve year olds in his home. As if Bruce was disappointing him at being so foolish as to think his entire pack of hellhounds wouldn't be invading enmass.

"Just getting a snack." He assured her, not wanting her to being the wrath of Alfred down upon his head. The hellions liked doing that, for some reason. "I don't suppose you could tell me what exactly you're doing in my fridge." Bruce tried, looking at the girl curled up in what should have been a deeply uncomfortable position between a few shelves of the large appliance.

Elle grinned. Her canines looked a little too sharp in the odd light of the fridge. Bruce really had to stop thinking of his sons friends as demonic hellions, he was starting to impose impossible features on them when he was sleep deprived.

"We're playing hide and seek." She made direct, unblinking eye contact with him as she brought the whole lemon to her mouth and took a bite out of it like it was an apple. "It’s Day's turn to seek." She added, lemon juice dripping down her chin as she swallowed her bite, rind and all.

Well at least she was getting enough vitimin C.

"Right." He nodded, deciding that it wasn't cowardice that led him not wanting to get involved. No, it was just...good parenting. Letting the kids be kids. It was a sleepover, and Damian was actually playing a game! That was something to be encouraged! Bruce wasn't fleeing from this particular group of children's brand of chaos at all. "...could you hand me one of the fruit cups Alfred made earlier?"

Elle obliged on the condition Bruce didn't tell Damian about her hiding spot and returned to happily eating her...whole lemon...as he shut the fridge door on her.

As he returned to his office he glanced out one of the manor's large windows long enough to see Billy stick his head out from the top of the twelve foot tall topiaries out on the front lawn, checking to see if Damian was about. Bruce shook his head, kids and their ability to climb impossible structures never ceased to amaze him. Billy should be careful not to keep trying to peak for Damian though, he was going to end up getting found that way.

[katsukikitten]

Mentions of children and a baby, fluffy and then angst. MDNI

Katsuki wakes up to the sound of laughter, soft giggling before two small bodies crawl into the oversized bed.

"Daddy!" They whisper, or what they call a whisper, having not learned the subtleness of it yet. More of a hushed yell of his title as little hands slap across his bare skin, "Daddy wake up!"

He scoops them to him, pressing them against his scarred chest with a grunt before his eyes flutter open, by the sun alone he can tell it's barely seven am. A glance at his clock confirms it and the kids squeal from how he squeezes them to him. He's barely gotten an hour and a half of sleep and when he glances over his shoulder he sees that you're still in bed, he wonders if it was a late night for you too. You were texting him late last night although that was normal for you, Katsuki still wonders if the newest edition to the family was the cause of your unrest.

Katsuki thinks he can pin his twin boys to him and lull them to sleep for another hour or so, he's done it before but their giggles say otherwise.

"Grandma is comin today to see sissy!" Their hushed yell too loud for Katsuki's liking, at least while you and baby try to sleep. Little hands pressing at his chest and setting off little popping explosions that earn them a fatherly glare although Katsuki was sure yours was sharper than his somehow.

It's befitting that he'd have two little hellions just like himself, a "double curse" his ma has teased about your whole pregnancy but she quietly whispered to Katsuki after she first met the twins, "You were easy to raise."

And the youngest Bakugou, his baby girl, took after you. All of her features a carbon copy of you just as his boys were the spitting image of him.

"We wanna tell her we helped with breakfast!" They're pushing again, although this time without their explosions after the warning glare from their father.

"You'll wake yer mother and yer sister." He grunts, but presses kisses to their faces that they giggle about, "Wait in the kitchen for me yea? But do not touch that stove."

"Okay daddy!" Their "whispers" lost and a full on yell before their eyes widen from their mistake, Katsuki and the boys holding their breath only for the baby to coo and you to let out a sleepy "Hmm?'

Katsuki knows that you can still fall asleep, that you'd have risen if you were more awake so that he could sleep but he's up now and he doesn't mind. He's glad the boys have listened to him that yes, momma is a super woman but that daddy can help them too.

And Katsuki cannot say he isn't proud that the boys love to cook with him.

After the coast is clear he sends them on their way with a playful swat to their butts that they giggle about, always rough housing those two. Encouraged of course by Bakugou but when it comes to the baby their hands shake with a little nervousness asking for gloves because they know their quirk could hurt their baby sister and that they are not in control of their gift yet.

Katsuki rises enough to sit on the side of the bed in nothing but his boxers, chest and half of his face scarred from a tale long ago that his kids beg for the story but he never tells. Not yet anyway. Rubbing his large palms across his handsome features, bromine eyes softened to candied apples thanks to his family. Ash blonde stubble looking more grey and crows feet next to his shining eyes.

He yawns, hears his boys giggle as they try to get the usual stuff for pancakes. One helping the other to climb the counter in order to reach the pancake mix and they're good boys. They don't touch the stove while they wait.

Katsuki rises fully now, grabbing a shirt from the clean hamper and sliding it on. Coming over to your side of the bed to look at you. Sleeping soundly and when he spies the bags under your eyes being kissed by your long lashes, he's more than thankful the boys woke him up instead. He leans over, kisses your temple softly, runs his hand feather light over your arm before his cooing baby girl. Talking to herself softly as she stares up at the ceiling, arms moving here and there but nothing too excitable.

And then she sees her father and her face lights up, pure joy just like when she sees her mom. Not fully Katsuki knows this but maybe it's even better to know that his baby girl still knows that these blurry shapes are him. Her cooing and babble louder now, excited as she reaches up for him and he gives a big smile pulling her up to press her into his arms.

"Good morning sweetheart." He coos back, a kiss to her wispy hairline. Softly shutting the door as he takes her to her room, passing by his boys and shutting the door to each. You insisted they should have separate rooms that you didn't want the twins to feel like one person and although they both had "sleep overs" often, they loved their own space as well.

"Boys you'll have to pick up yer rooms a bit before grams gets here." He says to them as he walks down the hall after baby girl has a fresh diaper and outfit, at least for now.

"Even though she doesn't go in there."

"Yea grams never sees our room unless we show her!'

"Mmhmm even though she doesn't go in there. It's still nice to have a straightened room ain't it?" Katsuki looks to them as they play in the water more than they wash their hands.

The morning is easy somehow and Katsuki is so so thankful he waited as long as he did to have kids. He's much more mellow now, can do more of the gentle parenting shit the baby books talked about. And yes his mother yelled at him often and he knows his ma loves him, he just doesn't want that for his kids. And yea he does yell sometimes, gets frustrated or blows up, they're two six year olds with big ass feelings and little bodies.

But he always apologizes

You taught him that and if you couldn't collect yourself either you always pointed out it isn't kind to yell, apologized and explained your own big feelings. Plus when you had the right partner parenting could be easy, it could be a lot of fucking fun. At least that's what Bakugou has always thought.

He supports you and he listened to his Ma the first time when Mitsuki said you weren't going to ask for help and that Katsuki needed to step up. So he'd take turns before you become exhausted and burned out, he split chores or took on more when you couldn't. And as always you did the same for him.

Now is just one of those weird times where you both are exhausted and trying your best to work with the schedule you have but Katsuki thinks you need a little more rest than him even if you've been home. Even if you can send the boys to grams or your own parents or to their cousins house for a sleepover, you still deserve rest because at the end of the day no matter how much he could step up kids will always want their moms first.

"Katsuki." You call gently from the hall as the boys bounce around while a TV show plays on low, their giggling hushed while Katsuki "spoils" the baby and keeps her held to him.

"Ah did we wake ya?"

"MOM WE HELPED WITH PANCAKES!" They scream excitedly, rushing to their half asleep mom to cling to your legs. Chattering away about how they helped with everything even dishes. How yours is in the microwave and how daddy said he'd heat them up. You respond, brushing your hands over their little skulls, pushing down their hair and they hum on.

"You came home late, you should have woken me up." You say softly, barely enough time to get ready before Mitsuki was due here in less than twenty minutes.

"Haaah? And let you hog all this to yerself?" He gestures to the living room where it looks as if a bomb went off, toys, stuffed animals and blankets scattered about that you and Katsuki would have to sing the clean up song just to have it all put away. Mostly anyway, it'd all come out again as they showed their grams and gramps their collection.

You laugh loudly, god damn does he love that sound. Loves that it echoes in his own chest enough to make him smirk or chuckle. Watches you come closer to kiss the babies forehead from over the back of the couch before kissing him on the lips.

The boys of course erupt in a chorus of EWS before they're getting a look from you both. This was definitely still a lightly teasing household.

"Go get ready. The number one hero can handle this." He leans up for another kiss that you give him of course, your once sharp claws now rounded to soft nails scratch at his scruff.

"Kay."

You're out of the shower and dressed without a second to spare, the doorbell rings. The boys wait impatiently to see if it's okay to answer the door, hopping up and down because they were never allowed to swing it open even if they were expecting someone. When Katsuki confirms on the door bell camera it's his mother, he rises to stand at the door to open it.

Sunlight bleeds in, obstructs the view of his mother for a moment

And then Katsuki wakes up.

His alarm blaring from his bedside table making his heart race with adrenaline, his palm poised and ready. Glowing a deep orange as he collects himself a moment. Growling as he smashes another phone turning to stare at the ceiling. He dares not reach out to your side of the bed even though he knows what he'll find.

Still, his curious, masochist palms reach out to find cool sheets. Sheets on your side of the bed that haven't been warmed for over two years, why would they?

No giggling laughter can be heard in the home, no cooing little girl he can greet with a smile after a hard ass night at work because the four of you made it worth it over and over again.

No visit from his ma on his rare few days off because there was no laughter, no cooing, and there may never be.

There never was because you left him two years ago. Left his sheets cool, the house he bought for his future family frigid in your absence no matter how high he turned up the heat or let the sun bleed into his home.

He couldn't even call it a home, homes were warm, joyful, this?

Well this was just another roof over his head, a bed to sleep in, a fridge to hold milk for his protein shakes.

Nothing for bacon and eggs or pancakes. Nothing for formula in the little bottles that were set out on the grass looking drying rack he'd tell his sons not to play with.

Katsuki rises enough to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing his handsome features with big palms. Fingers lingering over scars from a tale long ago but with no sons to beg for the story.

He hardly has the strength to rise from the bed as he comes to terms that all it ever was and all that his two sons and daughter that he saw so vividly, ever will be

Was a dream.

[bitchesuntitled]

Softer

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s feeling a tad self-conscious

Warnings/Tags: Humor, No outbreak AU, Tommy being an asshole in a brotherly way, fluff, pregnancy, sympathetic pregnancy, blended families, strip tease, nothing bad happens to Sarah ever and Ellie's your kid, and I think that’s it?

A/N: Thank you much @strang3lov3, @whocaresstillthelouvre, @jay-zzle for your eyes and Jai also for the moodboard!!! 😍🥰😘

This is for @beefrobeefcal’s Joel Sat on Me challenge! I hope you laugh at this as much as I did writing it 😅

Masterlist||AO3

Divider by @saradika-graphics

The gender reveal/baby shower was going off without a hitch. Maria was making sure people knew where to put gifts, Tommy was helping Joel at the grill, while your mom was helping you put the Boy or Girl banner around you. You hate this kind of attention but Maria and your parents both wanted to make a show of it. Despite your arguments on tradition being only for the first baby.

“Well, it’s you and Joel’s first baby together,” Maria deadpanned, all while your mom nodded along.

“Can’t beat that logic!” Your dad grinned.

“Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes, “Good thing it’s the last one too.” 

Joel smirked, his palm caressing your thigh, “It’ll be fine,” he whispered in your ear, “Least there will be cake,” he added with a shrug. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can’t beat that logic!” You reply mockingly, sticking your tongue out.

—

“Mom!” Ellie shouts, “Sarah’s trying to sneak into the cake!”

“Quit being such a narc!” Sarah laughs, playfully smacking Ellie’s arm, “You want to know just as much as I do!”

“Girls!” Joel hollers. “Come help your uncle Tommy set up!”

Both girls walk to the grill, helping Tommy carry hamburgers and hotdogs to the table.

“Alright everyone!” Maria announces, raising her voice to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s eat! Parents-to-be first!”

“Hey momma,” Joel grins, meeting you at the food table and placing a soft kiss on your temple, “What ya in the mood for?”

“More like what is the baby in the mood for?” you grumble, trying to adjust the sash around your body. “I hate this fucking thing,” you hiss.

“Just gotta eat, cut the cake and get through presents then I’ll kick everyone out,” Joel reassures.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble, grabbing a plate and staring at the food. The baby decided it wanted corn on the cob, a burger with all the extras, potato salad, and a small salad with more ranch on it than lettuce.

“Jesus Joel,” Tommy laughed when you both got to one of the tables. “Your woman’s the one eatin’ for two not you!”

Everyone looked at Joel with his plate piled high with two burgers, two hotdogs, and plenty of sides to feed a small army. You saw the flush creeping up his neck as he sat next to you. Joel opened his mouth to say something but Maria interrupted.

“Oh hush,” Maria said, smacking Tommy softly on the shoulder.

“Probably going through that sympathetic pregnancy thing,” a guest piped in. “My husband did that too!”

“Sympathetic pregnancy?” Ellie asked with her mouth full of potato salad. Your mom begins to laugh, shaking her head at Ellie.

“Ellie, gross,” you hiss. “Finish eating before you speak.”

Ellie makes a show of swallowing her food before speaking again. “What the hell is sympathetic pregnancy?”

“Ellie,” you groan. “Language! I haven’t spent the past 13 years raising a hellion!”

“And just think, you’re starting over!” your dad laughs.

Joel, meanwhile, keeps pushing the food around on his plate, taking smaller bites of the sides.

“Okay, googled it!” Sarah announces to the table, wagging her phone and clearing her throat. “Google says, c- cou- nevermind, I’m not even gonna try. Sympathetic pregnancy is a proposed condition in which an expectant father experiences some of the same symptoms and behavior as his pregnant partner. These most often include major weight gain, altered hormone levels, morning nausea, and disturbed sleep patterns.”

“That why you were asking for Pepto the other day at the site?” Tommy asks, nudging Joel’s shoulder before sitting down. “Dealing with some morning sickness as well?”

“Damn it Tommy,” Joel growls, balling up his fist. “If you don’t cut it out-“

“Alright, alright,” Maria hisses. “Enough.” She adds pointing at Tommy.

—

Joel stood in front of the mirror, looking at himself. Marriage had been good to him. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline the moment he got you pregnant. He hadn’t thought about it before but Tommy got in his head. Especially when he announced to everyone at the party it made sense now why Joel had to move his tool belt to the next hole for it to fit.

“Whatcha lookin’ at hot stuff?” You smirk, standing in the doorway of the adjoining bathroom with your toothbrush in hand.

“Thinkin’ I need to go on a diet,” Joel huffs out, turning towards you with his hands on his hips.

“The fuck would you do that for?!”

“Tommy’s ri—“

“I swear if the next words out of your mouth are Tommy’s right.” You pout, trying your best to not let the toothpaste escape your mouth as you move back into the bathroom, spitting into the sink, “I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

Going back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching Joel find his pajamas for the night. Sure, he’s gotten thicker in the middle since you got pregnant. His pants fit a bit tighter around his thighs. His chest, oh god his chest, the way your hands grip onto the meaty pecs he has now. You make a small noise at the memory of this morning before the girls woke up, and how you rode him as best you could with your swollen belly in the way, slick pooling in your underwear.

“What?” Joel asks, turning to look at you, noticing that feral glint in your eyes. He’s seen it more and more as the months have gone by. Sarah’s mom was nothing compared to you at this stage in pregnancy. Revved up and ready to go 24/7 these days.

“Tommy’s got it totally wrong,” you grin, “I love the way you look these days Joel.”

“Yeah?” Joel smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to face you, “what.. uh.. what about it?”

“Dad bod through and through,” you hum, adjusting on the bed to sit a little further back. “Was thinking about this morning, how I can hold onto your chest a little better with your pecs being a little softer.”

“Yeah?” Joel grins, watching your eyes track his fingers as they open the first couple buttons of his flannel, his chest barely peeking out through the fabric, “Should I put on a show?”

“I wanna see my man!” you let out a breath nodding your head eagerly.

“Feel like we need some music or something,” Joel says, letting out a shy laugh, trailing his palms down the front of his shirt, popping open more of the buttons. You begin humming 70’s porno music, “No thank you, that’s enough.”

You shrug letting out a giggle as he continues unbuttoning his shirt, his strong chest and thick belly being revealed as he rips the flannel shirt back in a dramatic fashion, spreading his legs wide and tilting his head to sway his curls behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Napoleon Dynamite. Ya gonna take it off or what?”

“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, straightening up, pinning you with a look, pulling his flannel back over his shoulders, “Listen, I’ve never done this for anybody. I’d ‘preciate if ya didn’t make rude comments.”

You clear your throat and lean your arms back against the bedding to prop yourself up, “Sorry, horny goblins took over, proceed.”

With his flannel shirt open, he starts flipping his belt open, stalking towards you, nodding your head at this new development, sliding his belt out quickly from his belt loops causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“Mmmm,” you moan softly, thighs squeezing together, and squirming on the bed “Joel. You look so fucking good like this.”

Joel spins around to show you his backside before slipping one shoulder of the flannel off, turning his head to the side with a smirk as he slowly slides it off his arm, followed by the other. You hear the button and zipper of his jeans sliding down. He begins teasing you with his jeans, dropping them some before pulling them back up and swiveling his hips, he puts one foot on the opposite leg to try and help pull the leg out.

“Fuck!” He yelps, as he falls back sitting on you, “Shit that wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Ow!” You groan, smacking his ass to get him to move. He rolls off you to lay beside you on the bed.

“You good?” Joel asks, laying on his side next to you, placing his palm on your belly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you grin, placing your hand on top of his with a sigh. “No Magic Mike in here, but for your first attempt that was good Miller,” you add with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Joel grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Fuck. Please!” You groan, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

[borealwrites]

I see your (general) “Kakashi expects children to be half as smart as he was at that age” AU and raise you a “Kakashi thinks children are way dumber than they actually are” AU. His only in-person experiences with pre genin are himself, a year at the academy, and Naruto.

So he’s convinced that Iruka is some kind of god for wrangling 17 half-feral children (and Naruto) into real human beings who can read and write and use chopsticks and deadly weapons. Yes, clan children probably learn a bit before, but still.

Kakashi: can’t believe you taught them almost everything they know

Iruka: I didn’t??

Kakashi: I watched you turn 18 hellions into mostly functional members of society

Iruka: most of my kids were well behaved

Kakashi: they absolutely were not, I once saw baby Shino bite Chouji and Hinata took out Gai’s kneecaps because he stood still long enough for her to catch him

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

Hc that legolas was fucking menace to society when he was an elfling. Not just a brat, a bona fida menace.

He had a temper, a love for havock and an irredeemable hatred for being told what to do. Pretty par for the course for elflings in his family, tbh. They’re all hellions when they’re younger, and they mellow out in adulthood. Why thranduil wanted to go through raising that six times, we’ll never know.

Anyway, bc he’s genuinly such a chill elf when he’s an adult, everyone who only knew him in adulthood thinks he was an easy kid, think’s that he never could have been trouble.

They’re all wrong. Legolas is not going to correct them bc he’s lowkey embarrassed (most elflings don’t crotch shot visiting royalty for baby talking them).

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Hi I hope you’re well 😊 I’m here to request your thoughts on Tommy Shelby as a father. Like how many kids you’d think he would have had if he only had one love interest (no falling in love with Grace or marrying Lizzie). Or if you think he’d be a girl or boy dad (personally i’d like to think he’d be a girl dad and have a big family haha). You can make this headcanon or just simply respond to this ask however you’d like! Thank you for taking the time to read and answer 🥰

Thomas Shelby as a Father

Tommy x Fem!Reader

Trope: Wait till your father gets home Warnings: Angst, spoilers for most of the series, period-typical sexism, references to past ab-se.

What we see of Tommy as a father is that he's distant and seemingly detached. This, I feel, is because of his trauma in losing Grace and his growing obsession with obtaining power.

We do see that Tommy is aware of his children's emotional state but seems unable to comfort his son. He goes as far as to have Arthur be the one to talk to his son about why he had to shoot his horse.

Tommy clearly cares about his children. He runs through a field of landmines to save his son, when he had almost stepped on one to purposely end his own life. Tommy goes nearly mad when he finds out Alfie Solomons was involved with the enemy that kidnapped his son. He shot Alfie for that betrayal with the intent to kill.

When Ruby became ill and he thought was all due to a curse, Tommy hunted the woman down. He went on a bloody rampage because he thought it would save her. With all of this, we know he is a loving father. But without Grace, he doesn't seem to know how to show that love.

Let's say that there is no Grace, only you, and that no sapphire is ever put around your neck.

That Thomas might be different than the one we saw parenting Charles and Ruby. I think he would want more than two children. I think he would be the sort of man who would say "one is enough," but really he wants four.

He would never raise his voice in his home without good reason. Tommy knows what its like to have a father that rules through fear and honey. He won't be kind only when he wants something. He won't make his children afraid of him.

Personally, I do see him as prime girl-dad material. Like he would have one son and three girls. Regardless of the birthing order, he calls the boy his "heir," but spoils the girls. They each have their own horse, a wardrobe of beautiful clothing, and freedom to do literally whatever they want. He has opened his briefcase to find dollies and teacups from your youngest girl's tea set before. She thought he would be lonely at work.

His girls would be the sort to follow around staff and ask them intrusive questions. Tommy would not be immune. His daughters would probably ask him questions like: "Do you not grow hair on the back of your hand daddy? Is that why it's only on top?" At least one of his daughters would have a "I'm totally a witch," phase where she's flinging curses just like he used to. Only with her, it's cute because she's only nine.

The only son of Thomas Shelby would be safely tucked under his wing. At your imploring, he would take your boy on long car rides or out into town without his sisters to bond. The boy has a lot of pressure on him to succeed, Tommy doesn't always sympathize with that.

All four of his children would be little hellions. He would be dragged to see their school's headmaster on a near weekly basis. To the point where he isn't always sure which of his kids is in trouble sometimes. He just drops a donation to the school and the problem goes away. That's not to say your children are bratty or terribly spoiled. Well, they are, but not unbearably so...

Tommy makes sure his children understand where he came from. He brings them all to the Cut to watch the ships come through. Loves to leave them at Charlie's yard for an afternoon of mischief and bonding time with "Grandpa Charlie." They also get dropped off at Aunt Polly's home for weekends every now and again. The girls always come back with a new swear word.

They are new money, not old money. There are those who will look down upon them based on this alone. He makes sure his children are educated and well-rounded individuals. Tommy often worries about the state of the Shelby Empire after he dies. You remind him that he "isn't allowed to die," before you say so.

Tommy is still more distant than you would like him to be. He's so focused on his goals, it's like he forgets all about Arrow House and the family that lives there. The oldest two girls have said as much to his face once before. He took the family on holiday after that. You knew he would go right back to long nights in the office, but it was still sweet.

Life with him is hardly perfect, but it's closer to it than you could have with anybody else. And that's enough.

[shinynewboots]

Listen to your Heart: Adam x pregnant!reader

AN: Lol I enjoyed writing this wonderful prompt for @madmiriam! I wasn't sure exactly what direction I wanted to take with this but fluff felt the most appropriate (lol all it takes is one comment though for me to write a pt 2 with smut bc I lowkey can see the vision now). I hope y'all enjoy! The prompt kept getting away from me so I tried to reel it in as much as I could so please bear with me lol

Warnings/tags: Pregnancy, reader's death/graphic details (backstory), cursing, guilt, sickeningly sweet fluff, slice of life, no beta we die like Adam

Note: S1 and S2 refer to the heart sounds heard in a normal cardiac cycle (think lub, dub).

Part 2 (18+)

You had never given much thought to how your second "life" would turn out. Avoiding exorcists on extermination day? Sure, that was to be expected. Working the same job you had worked when you were alive? Eh, that made sense, the hospital you worked at when you were alive was basically hell on earth most days.

Falling pregnant with a fallen angel's baby? Absolutely not.

You had freaked out a bit at first when you found out. You had been a doctor for fuck's sake. You should have been smarter. Except for the whole "being dead thing", which you assumed meant reproduction was off the table. Which it was, in most cases. Except for—

"Angelic Sperm," Adam said when you told him you were pregnant.

"What?" Of all the things you had expected him to say, this was not it. You had expected him to grow angry or childish, as you had known him prone to doing.

"Angelic Sperm." He repeated again, giving you a curious look.

"Adam you can repeat that all you want but that doesn't mean I know what you're talking about."

"Angelic Sperm. I think that's the only way for a sinner to get pregnant in hell. I mean, think about it, Princess of Hell is technically half-angel, half-sinner. And you've got sinners fucking all the time without getting knocked up. Come on, Y/N, weren't you a doctor?"

Adam scratched his head in contemplation, taking in this new information. You looked over at him in anger.

"I tell you I'm pregnant and all you can talk about is sperm?"

Adam looks over at you, a calm look on his face. He takes you into his arms, more gently than he ever had, and pulled you close to him. He kissed the top of your heard, his lips lingering far longer than they normally would.

"I'm so fucking excited, Y/N."

And so now you found yourself 5 months pregnant in Hell. You had begun to wear baggy clothes to not show your swollen stomach. You couldn't imagine what some sinners or overlords would do if they found out there was actually a way to get pregnant in an otherwise barren wasteland.

Adam had been very attentive to you in your pregnant state. You still had to work at the local hospital, trying to get in as many shifts as possible before the birth. When you'd gotten of work, Adam would always have some kind of food craving awaiting you, and together you would rot on the couch until it was time for bed and the day to start all over again.

There was one such time of rotting that you had found yourself lying on the couch beside Adam, on of his hands dropped across your waist and a hand lightly holding your baby. Baby, which Adam had begun to affectionately call "Little Hellion", was kicking happily in against your bladder.

You grimaced at the sensation, your body tensing against Adam. Sensing your discomfort, he kissed your forehead and pulled you tight. "Living up to your name, Hellion."

"They get it from their dad," You replied, your breath becoming more even as Hellion decided to turn their kicking attention elsewhere. Adam rubbed circles around your stomach, which seemed to appease Hellion.

"What are we going to do about after? I can't even imagine trying to raise a child in Hell, constantly on edge even more than usual." You finally asked, a question burning in the pit of your stomach for months. Hell was no place for a child. Would the baby even age? Sinners stopped aging from the moment they died. The Princess of Hell aged, though slower than a human would, but you didn't know what that meant for your baby. And other sinners would notice if they aged. Questions would be asked...questions that would be dangerous to answer.

Adam sighed and ran a hand through his soft, brown hair. "I've been thinking about that too. I think we need to go to the hotel."

You turned to look at him, your brow furrowed. "The Hazbin Hotel? Where you got fucking murdered?"

Adam laughed without humor. "Fucking insane right? And it's such a lame-ass place. But, I have to think about my family. You and Hellion are my family now, Y/N."

Warmth spread throughout your chest, Adam's confession taking you by surprise. He was rarely so vulnerable with you, mostly choosing to hide behind his mask of bravado and masculinity. You smiled at him. Hellion seemed to approve of his words as well because you received a sharp kick in your side.

"I think we should try and see if Hell Princess' redemption plans are even worth a shit. And even if they aren't, she, or Hell forbid fucking Lucifer, might have a better shot at getting in contact with Heaven than I do."

"Heaven? You want us to try and get into Heaven?" You shivered at the thought. You felt...dirty. Unclean. Unworthy of redemption. You had been sent to Hell for a reason and felt you would always serve your sentence.

"We have to try everything, Y/N. I...I have to try everything." Adam looked desperate, his golden eyes shimmering in a way you had never seen.

Adam kissed your forehead and continued rubbing circles around your stomach. He began to softly sing a Rolling Stones song you couldn't remember the name of.

And that was how you found yourself at the front door of the Hazbin Hotel, face-to-face with Lucifer of all people.

"Ooh, not sure if there are any rooms left in the inn. Might have you stay in the stables. I'm sure we have a manger or two for your convenience."

"I'm sorry, are you seriously making a Jesus joke right now?" You deadpanned as you stared at the King of Hell with an unamused expression. You had a hand on your stomach and you could feel Adam tense beside you.

"Get the fuck out of our way, Morningstar, your kid told us she would meet us here."

"Daddd!" Charlie yelled, running closer to the group at the front door. "I told you to let me answer the door!"

Lucifer at least had the grace to look sheepish. He moved behind Charlie, who happily welcomed you and Adam inside.

She grinned at you as she led you both to your room. "Congratulations by the way! So sorry about my dad, he always likes to try and push Adam's buttons."

"Fucking pussy," Adam muttered. You shot him a glare. "Stay away from him as much as you can."

"And ugh, Congratulations by the way! Adam told me all about it when he came to meet with me about you both joining the hotel! This is so exciting! And we have so many crafts and exercises and —"

"Hey, one fucking step at at time, Princess." Adam interrupted, sensing you tense at Charlie's words.

Charlie nodded and looked at you apologetically. "Sorry, I just get a little over-excited! We are so happy to have you here."

You smiled up at her softly. "We really appreciate you for letting us come to the hotel."

*

That night, you both lay in bed in your new home as you began your paths of redemption. Your head was on Adam's chest and you listened to the constant beat of his heart. Listening to the beat of the heart or pulse had always had a calming effect on you, even when alive. S1, S2, S1, S2, S1, S2

"Adam what if you get redeemed, and I—I don't. And I ruin everything. I don't deserve to be in Heaven."

"Why would fucking think that, Y/N. You deserve it more than anyone I know." He asked, his voice full of surprise.

"Because I killed someone!" You exclaimed, tears rolling down your eyes. "I was stupid and I killed someone and now I am meant to rot in Hell for all eternity. And I've damned our kid to this."

Adam wiped one of the tears that had begun to roll down your cheek. "And you don't think I have? Do you know how many sinners I've killed? Happily?"

"Adam, it's different."

"Try me."

You swallowed hard. "I was coming off of a 24-hour shift at the hospital. I was so tired. So fucking tired. And I knew better than to drive home. But my apartment was just 20 minutes away. And I thought it would be okay. I could have slept for an hour or two in the on-call room but I was so ready to get home."

Tears began streaming down your face at full force. Adam pulled you closer, surprisingly silent. "And then I fell asleep behind the wheel. I was only a mile from my house. I crashed into another car that had a mom and her kid in it. They died on impact. I was still alive, just barely, and bled out in my car before EMS could arrive."

"Y/N, you made a mistake. Fuck, I've made even more than that, definitely worse too."

"I just don't think I'm worthy of heaven."

Adam kissed your forehead and continued to hold you close. "Most of those fuckers who make it to Heaven aren't worth even half of you. You deserve Heaven. Shit, you owe it to yourself and Hellion to try."

"I'm just so scared Adam."

"I know. But we will take this one step at a time. Trust me, babe." He put a hand on your stomach. That had been one of his favorite things to do since the early days of your pregnancy. And Hellion seemed to know when their father was near, as you would get what you assumed were happy kicks in the direction of Adam's hand.

You nodded, cuddling in closer to him. One of his wings furled around you, creating a blanket for you and Hellion. You felt safe; warm. More so than you could remember feeling in a long time.

Everything would work itself out. And you and Adam would be redeemed just in time for Hellion to be born inside the pearly gates.

You found yourself focusing on Adam's heart once more.

S1, S2, S1, S2, S1, S2

Everything would be okay. It had to be.

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our Girl – Part 8

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader

Summary: Azriel and Cassian fight to rescue you from Beron's lair.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Violence, torture, blood

<<&lt; Part 7 | Part 9 >>>

Cassian revelled in the warmth of the guards blood on his hands.

Never before had he considered the sensation a pleasant one - he was always focused on the next kill, defeating the enemies that followed, winning the war. But killing his way through Beron’s guards to find you? It released some sort of primal desire, as if it pleased the Gods. 

He was snarling as he plowed his way through, unnatural strength driving his bare fist straight through chests, hearts ripped from their cavities. 

He could hear Azriel’s growls amongst the clang of swords meeting, of armour being punctured and thuds of bodies dropping, one by one. Azriel’s urges matched his own, melding together, stronger as one entity instead of two. The males weren’t High Lords, but this was their beast form. They would slaughter their way to you, pile the bodies as high as any beast to get to their mate.

It was unfair really, for Beron to have convinced his guards they stood a chance, even without knowing of the innate itch to kill irked by the bond. After a short fight, Cassian and Azriel - now dripping with sweat and blood - cornered the last of the guards, prowling with lethal rage. 

“P-please, it was B-Beron, he ordered us to-"

If the male hadn't died from the blow as his head hit stone, Cassian was sure to choke the last of his breaths with a lethal grip at his neck, holding him up against the wall as the rest of his body slagged with lifeless form.

Bursting through another door, Cassian and Azriel flew down the winding staircase at a godly speed. No longer were your panicked calls concealed under layers of ground and iron – your shrill cries suddenly so loud they pierced your mate’s minds, hands flying to their ears in hopes to shield them. 

You were here, they had found you.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, a long corridor of cells beheld them, the bond pulling them towards a cell they could not yet see. 

Wait! Your voice rang in their ears, laced with distress that fuelled their wild hearts. Wait! If he knows you are hear, he’ll kill me. Don’t-

Beyond words, Azriel sent a wave of reassurance down the bond, as he concealed himself and Cassian in shadows, sending some sprawling on the ground, racing ahead to find you with lethal stealth.

Silently, they moved further into the dungeon, stopping briefly to observe a weeping women in her own cell, bright auburn hair cast down her back as she wept into her arms. Serafina seemed unharmed for the most part, and Cassian sent a mental image to Rhys, ensuring Hellion his mate was here and alive. 

As Cassian and Azriel reached the end of the winding row of cells, they halted at the sight before them. A frightening cold seized their muscles, and hands raised to shield their eyes at the blinding silver light flickering from your cell. 

There you were, bound to a slab, sword pierced at your heart.

Veins pulsed against muscles, their fists shaking with adrenaline as they stalked closer for the kill. Beron was speaking, but neither of them could hear past the roar in their ears.

Before they could charge to tear down those iron gates and free you, Beron’s hands were at the hilt of the sword, and then he was pushing, severing the bond yet again. 

————

You know they were here – from the way your heart swelled and the bond ignited, a frayed rope pulling tight after being left slack for so long. But it was an instinct you could not let on with Beron so close – your only hope was that they heard you warning. 

Beron had grown dangerously impatient, not knowing the bond would fight back.

“This is taking too long, Y/N,” he roared, pacing as he ran shaking hands down his face, sweat sliding down his neck. “You will give me what I want!”

“F-fuck you,” you managed to cough out, chest heaving with short breaths as you tried not to deepen your wound with the sword at your chest. 

Beron snarled as he stepped towards you. “Give up Y/N. Give in.”

You didn't have a chance to bark a warning to your mates as Beron forced the rapier further into your heart. 

————

Azriel and Cassian fell to the ground – that slicing, searing pain sending them slack, unable to breath as they grabbed at their chests. 

Blood and spit passed through clenched teeth as it took all they had not to make any noise, to join you in the one freedom of screaming in pain. But they had to stay silent, to stay hidden. For you, they would embrace agony. 

————

It was an odd clarity, to smell your mates in that moment. 

They were closer now, only a few paces from your cell. You had to endure this next insertion, to give them a fighting chance. So you clenched your teeth, your cry of pain turning to a furious growl as you called for your heart to resist and fight and survive. 

Beron was thrown back at a sudden wave of magic pushed from your chest, the bond forcing the weapon clean from your heart entirely. It almost killed you, that pain, and you heaved against your restraints as Beron’s back smashed into the iron gates of your cell, weapon clanking to the ground. 

Beron pulled blood-stained fingers from the back of his head, eyes raising to you in murderous rage. “You bitch! How dare-"

Beron’s words were clipped, his eyes suddenly turning wide. He tried again – to speak, to breath, chocking against an invisible threat. Vision reeling as you danced with death, you had missed the shadow that had seeped past the gates, snaking through Beron’s nose and cutting off his air supply. 

Scarred hands snatched through the gates then, one around Beron’s neck, the other around his abdomen, forcing his against the cell door as he choked. 

Your cry of relief was a stangled, raspy thing. Cassian - twined in red, pulsing magic - ripped open the door to your cell, the warmth of his hands a sensation you would never forget. 

“Cass-" you strained, tears pouring as you cried weakly. 

“My girl, my girl,” he cooed as he caressed your head, panicked by the blood spilling from your chest as trembling hands moved to press at your wound. 

With Cassian’s large form in front, you only saw the outskirts of a blinding flash of silver that threw him from you, crashing him into the wall with a groan. 

Beron stood before you, eyes glowing with other-worldly light, laps of silver death consuming him. 

In an instant winnow, Azriel was beside Beron, Truthteller swishing fiercely, aimed directly for his neck.

Another pulse of silver, and Azriel was thrown against the opposite wall.

Beron was panting, fingers twitching and silver coursed at his frame. He had given in entirely, his sanity, his very soul lost to that power. He had become death itself. 

As if like called to like, the sword flew from the ground to find home in his hand. 

Beron’s growl was a deep, demonic thing. “I suppose I’ll kill all three of you now.” 

Azriel still lay on the ground, wings sprawled from his back, and Beron raised that awful sword, knowing exactly where to strike. 

It was a honing, almost peaceful moment to know you would do anything to stop from Beron harming your mate’s wings. It was as if the Mother spoke to you directly, welcoming you to her pool of magic, letting you drink generously as she raised the cup to your lips. 

You took what you needed, using her strength, your eyes alight with brilliant yellow. Your magic, untrained and undefined, blasted through the entire cell, igniting the room with a brilliant zap. 

All three males yelped with pain, metal surfaces now alive as your current zapped and moved between then. 

Your magic, powerful and brilliant, caused Beron to jolt still. He turned with an eery slowness - and instead stalked towards you, marking his next kill and leaving Azriel weak on the ground. 

Good, this was good. The innate selflessness to ensure Azriel's safety was instinct, and you would die with content knowing you had done all in your power. In these final moments, as death prowled closer, you understood you would die for your mates, just as they would for you.

But there was more hope to be found in that cell than you realised – because your magic thrummed with life, a gift from the Mother herself. And as your surroundings continued to zap and dance with your power – Beron was ignorant to how it weakened him, raising slow, shaky arms to land the sword at your neck. 

Azriel and Cassian were on Beron before he could have hoped to make the blow. There was a flurry of red and blue, fists flying and a series of growls, the world slipping further away as your vision blurred from blood loss. 

You weren't sure if you had dreamt it, but you could have sworn the entire bracket of iron bars was ripped from the hinges of your cell, revealing Rhys and Feyre.

Flashes of star-speckled black, and then warm hands were pushing at your chest. 

“Rhys!” Feyre called, her hand pressing harder, pushing a silent yelp from you. “Rhys, my magic isn't strong enough to stop the bleeding!”

Your head was lolling, your mind screaming at you to hold on just a little bit longer. And then there were two sets of hands, violet and grey eyes panicked as they poured healing magic into you, flooding you with warmth.

From the other side of your cell, Beron was weakening in his fight, his magic at odds with Azriel and Cassian’s. In a swift manoeuvre, Azriel grappled the male, forcing his hands behind his back. Cassian was in front of him then, shoving him to his knees, readying to snap his neck with his bare hands. 

Both of them panted, bearing the pain of your magic that flooded the room, delighting in what every instinct begged for them to do. 

“Wait!”

The males froze, turning to you. 

“Wait, don’t kill him,” you rasped. 

They stopped. 

“My love?” Azriel all but growled. 

“He killed Lucien,” your words were just above a whisper, and you felt Feyre’s hands drop from you. “He killed Lucien, as has kept the Lady of Autumn prisoner. They-they deserve a trial. They deserve to see him pay for all of his crimes.”

“What did you say?” Feyre’s voice was small, her arms slackened at her sides. You could offer no comfort in your state, blinking with a furious attempt to stay awake.

Azriel and Cassian exchanged a look, before nodding to you. Cassian drew his fist back, before landing a blow to Beron’s face, with only enough strength to render him unconscious. 

Shackles were ripped from you, and then hands - their hands - were everywhere, their lips too. Holding you, kissing you, rocking you as you wept at their touch. You were beyond grief and sadness in that moment – cries of relief went muffled as Azriel and Cassian held you up as you clung at them and just sobbed. The bond pulsed at the proximity, and you used the little strength you had to hold them both tighter, imprinting their scents to memory. You relished in the safety of their embrace as they cried with you, kissing you, checking you for more injuries as you healed slowly, swearing they would never let you go and that they were so, so sorry. 

The moments that followed were a blur. 

Illyrian soldiers flooded the dungeons, dragging Beron’s body with careful handling of the sword. Feyre’s cries were a sorrow sound, Rhys’s arms around her as she wept at the loss of her friend. You hated to have bared the news of Lucien's sacrifice, and to have to inflict the same pain on Tamlin. 

Oh gods, Tamlin.

“T-Tam-?” you gasped between sobs. 

Rhysand’s eyes were heavy, but fond as he smiled brokenly. “He was still fighting alongside the Illyrians when we entered. But he is safe.”

Your heart swelled at the bravery of your friend, and you wouldn't let yourself think about the damn battle that had erupted above your head.

Your hands shook then, knees buckling as the weight of the events caught up with you. A scarred hand rubbed at your back.

“You’re safe, my love, rest now.”

“Serafina–"

“Is with Helion. Everyone is safe my girl. You can let go now,” Cassian added, cupping your face.

It was the sweetest of lullabies you had ever heard, and now finally at peace, you gave into the exhaustion, falling into a safe slumber in the arms of your mates.

————

You were not alone when you woke.

Acutely aware of the soft snores of Cassian and Azriel, their deep breathing a song of its own as you came to in what felt like days. 

Cassian’s head was in your lap, face down as locks of chestnut hair mopped outwards, your hand held limply in his. 

Azriel slept upright, slumped against the postings of your bed, scarred hand upturned where your other hand lay in his, shadows gently caressing your side. 

A snort of laughter escaped you. 

It was a raspy, broken sound with no voice beneath it, but the movements of your chuckle rocked the bed gently as you indulged in the comical sight of your mates that had fallen asleep in such a way.

You wondered if their necks hurt as much as you hurt all over. 

Cassian's hand tightened around yours on instinct as he stirred.

A scarred hand touched your jaw, gently coaching your eyes to find Azriel beaming down at you with a soft smile, dark lashes still blinking from sleep. “You’re awake.”

Cassian squeezed your hand, his head turned to face you from where he still lay in your lap. “Hello, love.”

Your lip quivered, and then you laughed again, overcome with an intense amount of gratitude, hopefulness and glee. With a hoarse voice you were able to speak through your tear stained smile.

“My mates.”

--------

Part 9>>>

AN: Oh my gosshhhhh thank you for reading Part 8 of Our Girl!!! I so so hope you enjoyed it!! And can I tell you - to have these 3 properly reunited has genuinely warmed my heart while writing. I think I got really bogged down in the angst - which I love - but I'm warmed by building to this happy ending. There will be one more part of Our Girl – it will explore the events following the reader's rescue, and also another time-jump, maybe a certain special event?? The reader's mission work is definitely not forgotten either - it will play a vital role in how the story ends. I always want to hear your thoughts and feelings - I actually can't believe we're close to the end 6 months later! Damn I really dragged this one out... sorry friends. Comment if you want to join my general tag list, and please take care. MWA!!

[bullet-prooflove]

Two Years: Michael "Mikey" Berzatto x Reader

Tagging: @mckinleysbones @savemeaimeemann @wabi-sabi1090 @trublu2u @navs-bhat

Companion piece to:

Mess - Mikey tries to prove to you both he made the right decision by leaving.

A Fucking Saint - Mikey thinks you're a fucking saint for putting up with him all these years.

Tomorrow - A chance run in at the grocery store leads Mikey to break a bad habit.

The Diagnosis - Mikey recieves an explaination regarding his behaviour and addiction issues.

Save It (NSFW) - Mikey tries to apologise for all the terrible shit he's done over the years.

Wild - You and Mikey have discuss three things you love about him.

In the aftermath of Mikey’s diagnosis, he starts to fall in love again, not with you, that was never in question, but with the life the two of you begin to build together.

The mornings he wakes up tangled up in you, your bare skin pressed against his as the sun filters in through the blinds. The breakfast he makes while you’re in the shower because his baby needs to keep her strength up if she’s going to get through the day teaching all those pint sized hellions.

On your days off the two of you tour the city, hand in hand, in search of the best gelato, the best cannoli, the donut. You argue the merits of each one, devising your own scoring system. In the evenings he watches the TV with his head in your lap, your fingers combing lightly through his hair. It’s the most content and most stable he’s been in years.

It starts to bleed into his work life. He becomes more organised. Invoices get paid on time, the atmosphere more jovial. The Beef starts to turn over a profit again and finally it feels like Mikey can breathe.

It continues like that for almost two years, right up until the accident.

The two of you are driving back from the movie theatre when a drunk driver hurtles right through a red light and careens into your car. Mikey will never forget waking up to the scent of copper and gasoline, your lifeless eyes staring back at him.

Killed on impact, he's told later, his head still spinning from the concussion.

He falls apart after that, starts drinking again. He swaps his bipolar medicine for Oxy because Mikey, he can’t cope with all of the grief that boils up inside of him. Every day it simmers underneath the surface of his skin, gnawing at his insides, chewing up his heart.

It should have been me, he tells Richie as he stands on the bridge where he’d written both of your names onto a padlock and clipped it to the mesh. It should have been me that was killed in that crash.

It’s that night he finds himself in his mother’s bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror. He’s started staying here again because he can’t stand the thought of going back to the house the two of you shared. His hand comes to rest on the gun residing on the vanity. It feels heavier today, more weighty. He knows that’s because he hadn’t taken the bullets out this time.

He closes his eyes and he remembers that smile, the one that used to light up his entire world and he starts to cry because his memory, it doesn’t do the real thing any justice. It doesn’t feel like the sun warming his skin, or fill his heart with lightness. It just hurts, it hurts so fucking bad he just wants the pain to stop and he knows there’s only one way to do it.

“I'm on my way baby.” He whispers as he raises the gun to his temple, his finger squeezing the trigger. “I’m on my way.”

Love Mikey? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[theyanderebin]

Yantober Day 8! Always With You!

We're back! But this time, still definitely behind, but i think i've given up on doing all of them... But still, this is more writing than i've done in a while!

I give you, awkwardly. Yandere older brother who adores his little sister (you) more than anything on the planet. Literally, anything.

(As per the usual prompt from @ozzgin's yantober list which is here!)

It's about 1.8K words!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been this way since you were kids, a baby even. Your brother always seemed to just be around. The look of adoration on his little face as e leaned over the side of your crib when you were finally brought home. Your mother giggled at the stars in his round eyes while he pleaded to hold you. She giggled when she found him curled up next to you, both sound asleep. And she giggled when she kept finding him wandering around behind you after you'd learned how to crawl. He was always at your side. Even his father had called you two peas in a pod, when he saw that he held your tiny hand from the moment you could walk on wobbly little legs.

Always never wandering far, at home, at school. He was absolutely distraught when he finally had to start going to school. Really and truly inconsolable, fat tears ran down his face simply not stopping. Your mother fretted over him, trying desperately to calm him down. His violent sobbing only beginning to quiet when your tiny body awkwardly wandered over, colliding into a hug. He couldn't keep crying when you looked up at him like that. Sniffling he held you tight in his small arms, you giggled. Your mother sighed when he'd almost started crying again on the first day. His father swiftly carrying a baby right over. "How about this," He set you down in front of him, staring up at him with you big eyes. "She can come with us, to drop you off, how's that?" Your brother sniffed, "Okay…" They'd had to take you to drop him off every morning, unless you had a cold. Then he would intensely demand to stay home too. Not budging from inside the living room, using the couch as an island between him and whichever of your parents had the misfortune of dropping him off. Any time they'd close the gap he'd simply sprint away or hop the couch entirely. It got to the point that they had to give up… They never ended up too mad about it, especially when he got them whatever they needed to take care of you.

It stayed that way even as you started to go to school, he'd always make sure you had everything you'd need. Lunch? Checked. All your books? Checked. Extra snacks? Also checked. There wasn't a moment you forgot anything, he made sure of it. Not caring particularly if he was late to class, always holding onto your hand and walking you over to yours. A pat on your head before he let you wander in. He always managed to be outside your classroom, at lunch he'd sit with you all the time. He was outside waiting for you at the end of the day too. Taking your hand again and walking out to the car. He did so all year. Until inevitably he went to middle school. Even so, your parents were practically demanded to pick him up first. He was determined to continue to walk you out of school.

Every time you brought anyone home, they got the most intense side eye. You were his precious little sister. Like hell he'd trust anyone with you. Even if both of you were like 10. Who knows how their bastard parents raised that little hellion? Not him! So he always checked in on you, bringing your favourite snacks in. Petting you on the head as you munched on something, a soft look in his eyes, even as you tried to shove him out of the room so you could play with your little friend in piece. "Okay! Okay! Go now!" you demanded trying to shove him out of the room, your socks sliding a little on the wooden floor. You knew full well if you didn't push him out that he'd stay. He laughed as you desperately try to shove his lanky body out the door with your tiny arms, snack half eaten your cheeks "Alright, geez! Don't talk with your mouth full you gremlin." Rounding the doorway while you rolled your eyes. Finishing the snack in your mouth. "Okay, bye." You said blandly, closing the door almost in his face. The sigh was muffled.

He trusted those little assholes even less so when you finally hit high school. All of those damn brats and their audacity. He needed to keep you safe now more than ever. Fingers tapping on the wheel of the car as you got in the back seat of his car. "You do know you can sit in the front, right?" "And you know i can walk my ass to school and yet here we are." You shot back, having already heard enough from your parents about how he just wants to help or what if you got lost? Like you were some useless baby who couldn't go anywhere without him. "Damn, I'm just trying t-" "To help, uh-huh, I've been told." you cut him off. Staring out the window. The sigh from him going unnoticed. Resigning himself to your silence he pulled out of the driveway, it stayed that way the whole ride. "I could lock the doors, then she'd have to at least say something," He thought, pulled up in front of the school, "Probably shouldn't do that… She might kill me." Pushing the door open with your foot, you almost said nothing. "Bye. Have a good day." "Bye." You relented. Not wanting a scene like the first week. "He can stay in the damn car this time." You thought, shoving the door closed behind you. Dutifully ignoring him and his care. And thus, not noticing the death glare every kid near gates saw from him. Naturally most of them avoided going anywhere near you. After all with the scene he made it quite well known who exactly he was to your new school peers. The older ones already knew, swiftly spreading rumours about his previous solutions to dealing with people who got too close to you, they were rather... intense. Yet somehow, it all avoided you. But they were just rumours after all, right?

Unfortunately, he had to cover a later shift. Leaving your parents to go pick you up. The worst part? They were both pushovers. What if they let in to your stupid demands to walk home? Seriously?! What if some deranged freak saw how adorable you were and decided to steal you away!? Shoving the front door open, it bounced a little off the wall, not even glancing back at it when he pushed it into all but slamming shut. Grumbling into the kitchen to go drain a can of terrible soda before bothering you. Freezing momentarily, hand hovering over the top of a can in the fridge door when he heard you and then someone else. His eyes narrowed darting to stare up the stairs in cold silence. Foregoing his soda, he slinked his way up towards your room. Listening from the hallway, "You've gotta be fucking kidding me.." He thought, not only hearing one extra, unneeded voice, but two. "Great… double idiots.." Barely hesitating to go open your door, poking his head around the door frame, dull black curls invading the room. "Heya. what you all doin?" His tone almost dripping with feigned casualness. "School project." You replied casually, your project partners scooted away from the door. "Ah…" He hummed, "What's it all about, huh?" "Uh.. posters and stuff.." "Cool!" He chirped, pushing the door wide open, "I'll leave you to it then." He wandered back down the hallway, door left wide open.

You huffed, quickly getting up to close it. As you turned around both of your classmates stared up at you from their spots across the room. "You guys, good?" "Uh.." One of them stammered, "Yeah…" He squeaked out. The girl looked thoughtful for a moment. "Question…" "Yeah?" "Is it true…" She glanced around awkwardly, "That he, like… beats the crap outta people?" Raising an eyebrow, you cocked your head to the side, "Huh? Where'd you get that idea?" Sitting yourself back down. "I mean, he's a jerk but i don't think he's.. like.. hurt anybody.." "O-oh… okay.. i just heard a weird rumour then…" She rubbed the back of her neck. "Huh.." You shifted back into doing your work, "Weird." Colouring a section of the poster you were working on spread out over your wooden floor.

Several times he popped in, whether with or without snacks to hand you. Leaving the door to your room wide open every time he decided to finally leave you to your goddamned homework. You'd barely gone more than 20 minutes without him appearing in your doorway. With that weird look in his eyes. Your eyes darted to the door at every single noise in the hallway, waiting for him to cast his stupid shadow into your room. And he did, barely 25 minutes after the last. "What?' You groaned, rolling your eyes at him. His jaw clenched for a second. They were corrupting you. All of them. You never used to have this much of an attitude when you were younger. Clearly it wasn't your own fault, you were nothing but perfect. But here there were two brats, sitting in your room and probably bastardising all of your precious little thoughts. But alas, they were already here… "You all just look so cramped in here, i thought you'd be able to spread out and work better in the lounge room." He smiled, with almost a little too much teeth. "Just thought it'd be easier, that's all!" His hands up in mock defense. To you, he was being nothing but an idiot. Your classmates who had an outside perspective, read it for what it really was. A threat. "That.. Yeah that sounds like it would help." She breathed as he nodded beside her. "Makes sense." Blinking at both of your classmates "Okay…" At the moment you let the word out of your lips, they both rapidly shuffled, collecting their things and skittering out of the rooms. Your brother pressed himself against the side of the door frame to let them pass. Picking up the poster itself, you followed, confused.

It wasn't long before they both took their leave, rushed goodbyes and quick promises to work on it more at school. Leaving you awkwardly standing in the foyer, having not even been able to get a single word out before they were already halfway down the driveway. "Okay…" You mumbled. From the window, your brother watched them scuttle away, not unlike the filthy little roaches they were. One of them looked back for a moment, simply putting all of his seething rage into a single death glare. Only one thought in his brain, "If you come back, I'll kick the shit out of your sorry asses." He did nothing but pray they understood exactly what he meant by the look he sent them. When they were finally out of sight he real casually slithered his way over to you, ruffling your hair, absolutely ruining it. "Well, they seemed nice." He rested his arm on you head and smiling. You ducked away from it very quickly, fixing the mess he'd just made of your head with a grumble. There was a sense of relief that filled him that deeply filled him from the moment they'd finally disappeared.

Even if they were all corrupting your sweet little mind he'd always be there to keep you safe.

[thatawkwardmoth]

Emma and Scott both having shitty parents (not Katherine Summers, I'm never talking shit about her) is just another reason they make a good couple.

Let me explain:

Scott is raised military before he's even a soldier for Xavier. It's little things that show it but, as someone who's dad was raised by a military man, sometimes it's hard for parents to leave the army for Base only. Scott, in the meager amount of scenes we get of his childhood, has almost the same mindest of Dean Winchester in a way. His father gives an order, he might protest but eventually, he always complies. Number one example being the plane crash and the one parachute thing. But also that he spends so much time worrying over Alex. Even after being forced to forget about him, he still remembers parts of him. And yes, it is because that's his little brother and he loves him so much. But it could also be because the phrases: 'look out for your brother', 'Keep your brother safe', 'Watch out for Alex', have been said to him since the day he met Alex in the hospital, newborn and fragile enough that Scott, even at two years old, knew not to be rough.

And it doesn't change, even on the Krakoa arc, he is angry over Alex being placed on Sinister's team. (And sinister referring to the brothers as 'his boys' gives me the ick. They Not Like Us vibes from his character in general when it comes to the Summers brothers…) He can't take care of Alex, make sure he's safe and sound, if he's on the same team as the guy who experimented on a preteen Scott for funsies and genetic testing.

Now, Katherine Summers, we don't have a lot of comics with her. But she's shown as the perfect mother figure, raising two rowdy boys mostly on her own with how busy Christopher is. And Scott and Alex remember her fondly. So no fault to her. But Christopher fucking Summers, every fault to him.

I'm not demonizing him, I need that known. I'm not saying that he's the next John Winchester (because at least he came back to check on his kids, unlike Corsair), I'm just saying that he raised Scott to be the perfect solider for Xavier and the perfect experiment for Sinister. Because he followed orders and he didn't argue back to adults (eventually he did, but you get the point).

Scott has so much unpacked trauma from his childhood and that small series where deplaced Scott is with Corsair doesn't really cover any of it. Neither do modern comics.

Emma, on the other hand, was raised in high society. Has always known the rich life and the challenges and difficulties that come with it. Mainly, her father's goals for her and her mother's long broken soul.

She grew up trying to be the perfect daughter despite being the black sheep. She couldn't meet his goals and faced his wrath for having dreams about being a teacher. His rage followed her into training the Hellions and it led to their deaths.

Now, it's not just her father's temper that is the reason she's got shitty parents. He's a cheater, a manipulator and discards his children like broken toys when they don't follow his strict guidelines of life, ex. Chrisitan being a drug addict, the older sister doing modeling, his younger being more goth and alternative for 'attention' as Emma puts it. Leaving him to pick Emma to continue his company because she's like him, a fact he learns after she blackmails and exposes his affair to his wife. He's willing to let Emma be given a pass on things purely because of his money and only stops her from hooking up with her teacher because it's not who he wants her with. No mind to the fact that he's an adult and she was a child. I hate the teacher thing. Can we tell?

He's a shit father but Hazel Frost is not exempt from my shit talking. She is not Katherine Summers. She's absent most of the time. Being the perfect socialite wife. She doesn't have a life outside of her husband's money and the parties she throws (more garden parties, not Tony Stark rager parties). She cares about her children, yes. But the tiniest amount. She can't bring herself to be there for them when they're going through difficult times. She's been broken by the expectations on her, to be the traditional wife, that she can't be bothered when the affair is revealed to her. It's heartbreaking and it makes me sad but it doesn't excuse the way she ignored her son's drug habit or her daughter's crisis with new powers and bullies at school.

Now Jean Grey has shitty parents but only after she is revealed to be a mutant to them. They sent her to Xavier's school to help her through the grief of her friend's accident and the issues she'd been having recently, not because anyone told them about her mutation. Now them rejecting her did hurt and they played a giant part in her turning into Dark Phoniex. But that happened when she was an adult. For her formative years as a child, they were present and lovely. Even as a teenager, it's shown that she calls them and writes letters and visits them on holidays. So, as much as I am a Jott and Scemma shipper alike, she can't relate to Scott's trauma and parent issues until she herself is burned and abandoned by her own. Emma, on the hand, can. She's had a shitty dad and Scott's had two and one creep that is obessed with him. She's had to mature faster because of her father not paying her ransom and making her rescue herself and decide to run away. Scott can relate to her running away, seeing as it is his favorite thing to do. Ex, the orphanage, Xavier's, Alaska, so on and so on.

Emma has even lost loves before! She was geuinely in love with the guy waiter from the comic series about her life. Was distraught when he died. She's been scorned by lovers before as well. Her teacher that she had a crush on and sabatoged a few friendships in college for (stupid plotline. stupid. stupid.) eventually reveals that he hates mutants and sees them as freaks, making Emma leave him and never look back (finally, my girl was free).

Jean hasn't. She's never lost Scott except when he cheated. She's never had to grieve him or bury him as many times as he has had to for her. Even Madelyne, who scorned Scott for reasons purely blamed on the absolute worst comic book misunderstanding and miscommunication ever, has never related to Scott on those levels. Emma has buried him and been scorned by him and still loves him, is the one he trusts with his resurrections in the Arbor Magna. It really speaks volumes.

And I'm not pitting the two ships against each other. I'm not. I'm pointing out the differences in the way they can relate to each others' pasts.

[bruciemilf]

A crack treated seriously concept that I have just swimming in my mind;

Runaway sugar baby Bruce Wayne AU.

Here's the thing; Bruce and Harvey are married. Bruce may not realize they are! but they are.

Oblivious fucker really went,

" yes, I will have children with my best friend, raise them together happily, occasionally have sex, and wear this cool ring he gave me. Platonically, of course."

I think it all started when Tim came home from school, wearing a bit of a guilty expression, asking with a pinch embarrassment if Bruce could pretend to be a doctor for career day.

Bruce blinks, " I am a doctor, darling." Graduated with flying colors, mind you!

"Well, yeah, but...You know, not anymore. "

True. Ever since he adopted Jason and Tim, he just found it harder and harder to leave home. They were just too precious and he didn't want to miss a moment!

"I just don't understand why he'd lie about it."

"I can," Harvey looks so handsome, arranging his tie. He does a mess of it, but he doesn't look less tantalising,

" Little brats would be...Yknow, mean. They get finicky when they see a weak spot."

He knows it's Harvey because there's no accent melting like whisky on his mouth. " Weak spot?"

" doll, cmon, --"

" I do work, Harvey. Just because it's not defending criminals doesn't mean it's less vital."

" I knowthat. But you're also a rich guy who, let's face it, wouldn't need to work a day In his life. And that's fine by me. "

because Harvey HATED seeing his mom break her back to support their family when his father was drowning face down in debts.

He wouldn't put anyone through that, let alone his pretty little husband. But Bruce doesn't take this well.

" well! I'll show you! I'm more than capable of making it on my own, I'll prove it!"

Now. Bruce doesn't think too much. He's not an expert in it. Man can stitch up a 5 inch incision with floss, but his own well being? Leave it to Alfred.

But he'll make them proud. So next time, they don't have to lie.

He just packs up way too many luggages, packs Damian up too, and leaves while Harvey's at oh his back breaking, gruelling office job.

It's only when he's on a bus that he realizes he forgot the rest, but that'd be cruel! Their boys loved their father.

Dick, who's in his I Hate Dad phase, is extremely hysterical while they leave to find Bruce. Only stopping occasionally to fix his eyeliner, then start over again.

Jason, Harvey's second oldest, drives beside them on his motorbike.

He guesses its an extra middle finger to him to not wear a helmet. His beloved little hellion, raised on the devil's edge.

"Listen to me; If I find him, I'm moving back home. If I don't, I'll put you in the ground."

" I'll let you."

Now; Bruce does find a place. It's a little town with big characters.

Harley has a diner that she's more than happy to welcome him in, even if Bruce, Spoiled Spouse of the Year, can't quite pick up.

Anything for old roomies.

But there is someone in there who catches Bruce's attention. Towns mechanic.

Clark, his name tag says, who played with Damian behind Bruce's back while he talked to Harley.

He smells of salty motor oil; Fresh sweat, smoked apple pie. His eyes are dreamy blue, rendered with sharp cleverness. And Clark likes him.

Clark recommends him a good motel, brings Damian some toys to play with, even brings his own babies so they can have a playdate. " They're not mine. The toys! These two are. I have a receipt from the hospital."

"...A birth certificate?"

He's delightfully awkward.

When Harvey comes to pick him up, when Bruce jumps in his arms, claws at a pristine shirt stained with his brand new blisters and cracks and worked hands, he's not awkward.

He's disappointed; Like Bruce strangled the joy from his soul.

"You're...Married?"

When Bruce and Harvey respond, in perfect, consice sync, " Oh no, darling,--" " Yes he is, four eyes--" they're ALL confused.

"Oh, dear..."

[thezombieprostitute]

So, there've been a few "cast your friends as your characters" going around. I was tagged in three of them:

@stargazingfangirl18 paired me with Mr. Freezy saying, "she’s a pure-hearted caretaker who is always looking out for and encouraging others."

@bigtreefest paired me with Curtis saying, "I can just see her loving the comfort Curtis provides and wanting to return the favor, paying attention to exactly what he needs."

And then @krirebr paired me with dark!Andy saying, "It's because I think if anyone could finally take down Andy, it's you. You're so strong and fierce that you'd leave that house in ashes behind you...He wouldn't stand a chance."

You can maybe see why I was laughing for so long over these. Apparently I'm quite the loving caretaker but I will shank a bitch. And I haven't been able to let go of this story idea based in Kris's Trapped AU that she assigned me to:

Normally Lloyd wouldn't care. Normally, someone yells at him for a defective girl, he tells them "caveat emptor" and blocks their number. But this was an unusual case.

Barber had asked for the most compliant girl in the group he'd been presented. Naturally Lloyd had recommended you. Surveillance indicated you were very polite, calm, quiet, all the shit Barber was looking for. Even after you'd been picked and kidnapped you were always well behaved, polite to the guards and other girls. You cried, sure, but so did all the girls. Hell, you even looked after the others. You were calm, quiet, compliant. But Barber was claiming you were hellion? A banshee? That couldn't be right. Lloyd needed to look into this.

He arrived at Barber's home. Took him a minute to make sure it was the right one, all the houses in this boring little suburb looked the same. He rang the doorbell and, thankfully, didn't have to wait long. His jaw almost dropped when he saw Barber, usually looking clean and crisp in his suits and button-ups, completely disheveled with bruises and scratch marks on him. Was that a bite mark as well?

Barber urges Lloyd inside quickly, "you sold me a defective product! I asked for quiet and compliant and you gave me a hellcat!"

Lloyd raises an eyebrow, "she did that to you?"

"Yes!" Barber takes a breath to steady himself. "I didn't think her being big and tall would be such a big deal. Just make her diet and she'd get that model-thin figure. But that's only if she behaves! She can, and does, fight back!"

Lloyd removes his sunglasses, "let me go talk to her. Where is she?"

Barber leads him downstairs to a door with a pad-key lock, "I'm lucky I thought to soundproof the damn basement. The neighbors definitely would've called the cops by now. Thank God there's no windows for them to see her, either."

The basement looks like a small, windowless apartment. There are dents in the walls and Lloyd's not sure if it was you or Barber who put them there. He sees you at a little table and whistles. As bad as Barber looked, you looked worse.

You look up at the sound of the whistle, expecting another fight, but actually smile when you see Lloyd. "Oh, hello Mr. Hansen," you chirp. "Does this mean I'm being returned to my preferred circle of hell?"

"What the hell happened? You were so well behaved when you were locked up, with a lot fewer niceties." Lloyd looks around the basement. "This place has heat, probably air conditioning. Looks nice, the food is probably better and you get much better clothes and blankets."

"Thank you!" Barber chimes in. He moves to speak more but between the rolling of your eyes and Lloyd's holding up a finger to stop him, he clams up.

"So why have you been so poorly behaved?" Lloyd cautiously moves closer to you but you're giving him no indication of lashing out.

"Because he makes no sense, Mr. Hansen," you tell him. "Your rules were easy to follow and made sense. His rules are incredibly stupid and whenever I asked for a reason for them he told me some bullshit about 'good wives don't question their husbands'. Which, quite frankly, is very dumb of him. A good wife calls you out on these things so you can become a better person."

"You need your rules to make sense?"

"Yes, Mr. Hansen. And, quite frankly, several of his rules and expectations are impossible for any human to really follow. I think he'd be better off with a robot wife or something."

Lloyd chuckles at that, "and you didn't take too well to being punished for not following the rules?"

Barber tries to speak but Lloyd, again, raises a finger at him, silently indicating he needs to shut up.

"It wasn't so bad, actually. The time-out room was nice and quiet and I didn't have to deal with him. So he tried to use the punishment room to get me to obey. Turns out, when I'm unable to fight back, I start laughing and can't stop. You can imagine how well that went over with Mr. I-Deserve-Only-The-Best-Things."

Lloyd chuckles, "you know, Sweetheart, when men buy their wives they're allowed to have expectations."

"Oh yes, of course, Mr. Hansen," you agree. "But requiring me to wake up over an hour before he does so I can do a makeup routine that he's set out for me and get my hair to look like how he wants it? Expecting me to be grateful I was kidnapped and sold? Expecting me to comfort him over his own ruined life when he's ruined mine?

And then there are the contradictory rules! I have to not lie to him but I have to tell him I love him? That I think he's handsome? That he's good to me? Directly contradictory!

Maybe any guy who buys me would want similar things but to insist it's my obligation because he thinks he deserves a good wife? Let's face it, Mr. Hansen, he's a semi-delusional, whiny bitch who just doesn't want to put in the work for an actual relationship."

Barber stomps towards you, clearly set to smack you and yell but Lloyd punches him in the stomach before he can. With the wind knocked out of him, Barber backs away and Lloyd moves over to you.

"You know, I normally don't give a shit what happens to my products after they're sold," he tells you. "But he is an unsatisfied customer. And a DA at that. That can be bad for business."

Your face contorts into a pout, "you're leaving me here with him? Can't you just kill me instead?"

"I've got other plans for you," Lloyd purrs. "You might not be good for Barber, but I think I've got someone else who would love you. But, I can't have an unhappy customer, either."

"I don't want anyone else to suffer because of him," you lower your head. "I'll behave, Mr. Hansen."

"Oh, no, no, you misunderstand," he chuckles. He pulls out his gun and shoots Barber, startling you. "We're gonna burn the place down and leave plenty of evidence that Mr. DA was dealing in human trafficking."

"Thank you, Mr. Hansen," you beam. "May I help with the burning down of this place? I could really use the therapy."

Lloyd laughs, "of course! And I'll go ahead and tell Everett I found him a girl who is kind, caring, attentive even, but can also defend herself from unwanted attention."

A million thanks to @krirebr for permission to write this!

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[traeumenvonbuechern]

Historical Romances by Black Authors

Aphrodite wishes to escape the marriage mart but will a second chance with the elusive Duke of Everely change her mind? Aphrodite Du Bell is a diamond of the first water and a favourite of the queen. But her renowned loveliness didn't stop the love of her life, Evander Eagleman, from jilting her and marrying another woman four years ago. Aphrodite has been in self-imposed exile ever since. However, when her formidable mother summons her back to London Aphrodite has no choice but to acquiesce. Upon her return, Aphrodite learns that the newly widowed Evander is in town and, despite her best efforts, the grand society events of the season repeatedly push them together. With each encounter, Aphrodite's traitorous feelings make it perfectly clear that the Duke still holds court over her heart. Why did Evander cast Aphrodite aside all those years ago, and now that they have a second chance, can the couple make strides to mend past hurts?

Ailsa Connery has waited three long years to finally escape her enslavement at Stirling Castle and reunite with her clan. But her carefully laid plans are completely destroyed by the arrival of the infamous Highland warrior known as Dubh Mahoun, the Black Devil…who has plans of his own. Kallum MacNeill's fearsome reputation has long allowed him to keep hidden his secret double life of freeing enslaved captives across the land. It's only when he kidnaps a servant lass—quite by accident—that he finds himself facing a wee predicament. He must accompany the lass home or risk her exposing his true identity. It'd be easy enough…if the feisty hellion didn't fight him at every turn. As they make their way to the Highlands, the perils the two must face are surpassed only by their constant sparring. Soon, their heated sniping sparks heat of a totally different kind. The kind that ignites a hunger that could consume them both. Yet the difficult journey is no match for the dangerous secrets they're about to uncover.

The first novel in USA Today Bestselling Author Beverly Jenkins’s compelling new series follows a Northern woman south in the chaotic aftermath of the Civil War . . . Valinda Lacy’s mission in the steamy heart of New Orleans is to help the newly emancipated community survive and flourish. But soon she discovers that here, freedom can also mean danger. When thugs destroy the school she has set up and then target her, Valinda runs for her life—and straight into the arms of Captain Drake LeVeq. As an architect from an old New Orleans family, Drake has a deeply personal interest in rebuilding the city. Raised by strong women, he recognizes Valinda’s determination. And he can’t stop admiring—or wanting—her. But when Valinda’s father demands she return home to marry a man she doesn’t love, her daring rebellion draws Drake into an irresistible intrigue.

A fun and feminist Regency romp from a master of the genre hailed as "a delight" by Bridgerton author Julia Quinn. Nothing happens in London without Graham Wynchester knowing. His massive collection of intelligence is invaluable to his family’s mission of aiding those most in need. So when he deciphers a series of coded messages in the scandal sheets, Graham’s convinced he must come to a royal’s rescue. But his quarry turns out not to be a princess at all… The captivating Kunigunde de Heusch is anything but a damsel in distress, and the last thing she wants is Graham’s help. All her life, Kuni trained alongside the fiercest Royal Guardsmen in her family, secretly planning to become her country’s first Royal Guardswoman. This mission in London is a chance to prove herself worthy without help from a man, not even one as devilishly handsome as Graham. To her surprise, Graham believes in her dream as much as she does, which makes it harder to resist kissing him…and falling in love. But how can she risk her heart if her future lies an ocean away? 

Jane Austen meets The Princess and the Frog For as long as Prairie can remember, living in paradise has been boring. Her days are filled with helping at her family's resort, sewing, daydreaming, and observing fashionable guests from the sidelines. But when a fairytale-Esque opportunity arises, she does something out of character and agrees to marry a man she's never met. Suddenly, she's navigating a new life that is a world and an ocean away from everything she's ever known. Her new husband, Wright, is decidedly Mr. Wrong. If there's a schedule, he'll ignore it. If there is a rule, he'll break it. If there's a risk, he'll take it. Has the girl who has always had a plan finally met her match? If you're a fan of TV shows like 'Vanity Fair', 'Bridgerton' and 'The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina' or enjoy reading comedies of manners, you'll love 'That, My Dear, Is Love.' This is a full-length, standalone novel featuring a diverse ensemble cast, whimsical magic, and hilarious misadventures. This is a clean romance with a HEA. Featuring some of your favorite tropes: Marriage of Convenience Opposites Attract Reformed Rake

The Davenports delivers a totally escapist, swoon-worthy romance while offering a glimpse into a period of African American history often overlooked. The Davenports are one of the few Black families of immense wealth and status in a changing United States, their fortune made through the entrepreneurship of William Davenport, a formerly enslaved man who founded the Davenport Carriage Company years ago. Now it's 1910, and the Davenports live surrounded by servants, crystal chandeliers, and endless parties, finding their way and finding love—even where they’re not supposed to. There is Olivia, the beautiful elder Davenport daughter, ready to do her duty by getting married . . . until she meets the charismatic civil rights leader Washington DeWight and sparks fly. The younger daughter, Helen, is more interested in fixing cars than falling in love—unless it’s with her sister’s suitor. Amy-Rose, the childhood friend turned maid to the Davenport sisters, dreams of opening her own business—and marrying the one man she could never be with, Olivia and Helen’s brother, John. But Olivia’s best friend, Ruby, also has her sights set on John Davenport, though she can’t seem to keep his interest . . . until family pressure has her scheming to win his heart, just as someone else wins hers. Inspired by the real-life story of the Patterson family, The Davenports is the tale of four determined and passionate young Black women discovering the courage to steer their own path in life—and love.

[plush-rabbit]

Sinner!Adam Pt. 2

A/N: This was supposed to go together with another chapter, but it was gonna get too long, and I still need to fix it so yeah. Word Count: 3K

-

Your steps are quick, and you have to slow yourself down. You’re far too giddy- your heart beating against your chest, making your ears burn hot at the shell. Demons and other hellion citizens already glance your way, some of them craning their head to watch where you go so eagerly- so willingly without an escort. It’s been far too long since you’ve been seen out. You need to relax. Your stomach twists itself into knots, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you walk down the street. It’s been a while since you had actual eyes looking at you, and you have to tell yourself that no one cares about you, that it’s their curiosity, but they have no real thoughts about you. You come to a slow pace, restrained to a painful degree, with energy threatening to burst at the seams and leave you a mess.

It should come to no surprise that others look at you- some of them follow your figure until the crowd hides you long enough for you to disappear. While dating Lucifer had come with its perks early on in the relationship- such as bodyguards wherever you’d go, or even stores being reserved just for you- all of that dwindled along with the relationship. You never needed anything more than what you can just order online, and you hid yourself in the castle along with him. You never dared to leave, always worried of what you might hear from the people. But even so, that doesn’t stop the tabloids from theorizing about your relationship, or whether you’re still around or hiding in another ring.

You’ve forgotten what it was like to walk down the street. The anxiety. The fear. The skip in your step. The excitement. Leaving the castle that night to go and drink was something that you don’t regret. You haven’t felt like this in a long time, and it’s almost painful, but the warmth in your chest makes it bearable.

Turning the corner, you spot Adam sitting down on a table outside a restaurant. He’s slouched in the chair, his drink in front of him, as he scrolls on his phone. Hell’s citizens make a very obvious attempt to not get near him. You, however, make your way towards him, unable to hide the bounce in your step, unable to stop the grin.

“Adam!” You call when you’re just close enough, raising your hand in a wave. He looks up, startled, eyes wide and mouth partially agape. When he realizes it’s you, he gives you a lazy grin, lifting his hand up in greeting. 

The chair scrapes against the ground, and you sit across from him, your legs criss crossing under the table. It’s only when you’ve sat that you notice another drink, partially hidden by the other. “Took you long enough,” he tells you without any real annoyance in his words. He places his phone face down, and pushes an unopened drink towards you. “Didn’t know what you wanted, and the waiters were being annoying about having to order.”

You smile apologetically, grabbing the drink with your hands. The condensation wets your hands, cooling them down and hiding any bit of sweat that you may have had. “Sorry for taking a bit longer than expected,” you tell him. He gives you an expecting look and you tap the top of the drink with your nail. “Charlie needed me for a bit, but I had no idea how long it would actually take.”

“Couldn’t you just say no?’

Opening the drink, you watch as the fizz climbs up the neck of the bottle. “I could have. But I like helping Charlie. She’s a good kid.” Adam pushes the menu towards you- his nails sharpened, gleaming under the light.

“Fuck that,” he snarls, “damn cunt can throw a punch.”

“Adam,” you call in warning. “You’re cool and all, but I won’t let you disrespect Charlie,” your voice goes low and he’s aware of you for a moment, his eyes canning you, as if the realization that you are an actual demon and he is no longer in possession of angelic steel has clicked. “You came into her home and targeted her friends and family, and her people.” Your hand reaches over and you grasp his hand tightly, your nails sinking into the flesh of his hand. “You can bitch about whatever you want with me, but not about her. Understood?”

“Yes,” he says quickly. Compared to other hellions, you aren’t the most threatening, but a demon is a demon, and he’s learned that lesson.

You smile. “Great!”  You let go of his hand, letting yours return to your side of the table. “I haven’t been here before. How did you even find this place?”

As the words leave your mouth, someone comes to your table and clears their throat. You look up to see a hellhound with their teeth bared, as they glower at Adam. It seems as though his reputation exceeded far past just the Sinner hate, but also to the other residents of Hell. You shouldn’t be surprised- Hellborn and Sinners were near the bottom of the food chain, many of them were probably friends, or more. You wouldn’t be surprised if Exorcists had even murdered Hellborn just for the hell of it.

The hound before you stands tall, their fur on its end as they speak to Adam. You wonder if Adam can feel the disdain and hatred. It isn’t as if others are masking it- if anything it’s apparent. He isn’t just a Sinner- no, he’s much lower than that. You’d be terrified in his position, you’d never leave your home if you knew without a doubt that others couldn’t stand you. You wonder why he even goes out at all. You wonder how long he was alone in Hell for until you two met and became friends. You couldn’t fathom being all alone in a new place- especially one where you’re so obviously hated.

“And for you?” Their tone is noticeably different towards you. You had missed what Adam ordered, and you skim over the menu, choosing one of the first things you see as to not keep the waiter at the table.

“Oh, um this.” You point at the menu item, crossing your ankle over the other, cringing internally as you hadn’t repeated the menu item out loud. “Please.” The hound nods, and with a bow, they leave the table. You look up at Adam, who is busy staring down at his nearly empty drink. “What did you get?”

“The service here sucks,” he says in disgust. His lips curl in anger, his hands flat against the table. He grumbles something under his breath, and you glance to your side.

“They’re probably just tired,” you attempt to reason. Perhaps it's to protect him, even if he knows the reason why service is less than subpar. You wonder how long it took him to find a bar that would have him, or even a place to rent. Adam gives you an angry sort of look, but it quickly softens when you cock your head to the side. “I um- Sorry again if you were waiting for long,” you say softly. You shouldn’t have taken long- Charlie could have waited, but you lived in a  moment where Adam wasn’t the most hated in Pride Ring, where he could stomach waiting for a few moments alone in a street full of Hell’s citizens. 

He stays quiet, and brings his drink closer to him. “You look freaked walking down the street,” he says after a moment, his words tense, and slow as if he isn’t sure that that is what he wanted to say.

You shrug, attempting to play cool, but your bouncing leg gives you away. “It’s um, it’s been a while since I left the castle. When I- When we met that night, I wasn’t thinking clearly- I was a bit melodramatic and I guess, I just wanted the attention that I had gone out alone.” You twist your hands with each other, and you let your worry show, unable to settle it. 

“From?” You furrow your brows. “The attention you wanted.”

You bow your head and tap the tips of your shoes against the sidewalk. “Lucifer,” you whisper, his name heavy on your tongue, and shame resting like a weighted blanket over you.

“Did you get it?” You thin your lips and shake your head. Adam pulls a face, and leans back into his chair. “Sucks.”

“Yeah, well, I expected it. I mean, it still hurt, but ya know, what can you do.” You give a smile to Adam, and it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Before, when we were good, um, he would assign guards to me.”

Adam perks up at the mention. “Really?” He sounds shocked.

“As much as Hell is my home, it’s um, not exactly safe. Especially when you’re dating royalty. So, Lucifer thought it was best that if I was to leave on my own, I would have guards assigned to me. He said that it was too dangerous for me to leave on my own. I didn’t really believe him-” you wave your hand in the air- “I thought he was being controlling, until I almost got kidnapped.” You snort at the end, resting your cheek against your knuckles. 

“Almost?” Adam leans closer, now intrigued.

“I’m guessing Heaven really was safe compared to here,” you say. He gives you a look as if to say “duh”. You smile at him. “Probably for ransom or some demon who really hates royalty. One of the hellhounds assigned to me found my scent and killed the demon.”

“Oh,” he almost sounds shocked.

“Yeah, she tore out his throat.”

“You still got them around?” He asks, excitement laced into his words. You wonder how much he misses the carnage and bloodshed. “You know, in case I gotta watch out or something,” he tries to cover up, but you can see the way that his body comes to an alert, wanting and waiting for a reason to fight.

With an apologetic smile, you shake your head. “No, they returned to Beelzebub.” He raises a brow. “She handles Hellhounds. She’s down in gluttony, and she throws these big parties most of the time. People go over and they gorge themselves there- feeds into her sin, ya know?” You end, with a wave of your hand, unsure if he really needed an explanation or not.

“Did you care that they left?”

You shrug. “At first I did. I- I have this bad habit of-” you stop yourself- you want to see the good in people, you want to believe that they liked you as much as you like them- “well, it’s not important. But um, we were close, but I think that’s only because they were meant to guard me. But once Lucifer and I hit our rough patch and well I stopped going out as much.” You glance up at him, and quickly look away, interlocking your hands together. “He hardly made public appearances unless it was to visit the embassy-” you gesture to Adam with your hand- “or to visit one of the sins. And we hardly went on dates, so there was no reason to keep the guards around.” You look up at Adam and he’s silent, his brows slightly furrowed, creating small wrinkles between the space. “I’m sorry,” you say, embarrassment hot on your cheeks, “I didn’t mean to bring up Lucifer.” 

The waiter returns, your order served on porcelain plates. The hound only gives you a passing glance, their eyes returning to Adam, narrowing in resentment. A check is already placed in between the two of you, the hound standing tall, intimidatingly so. 

“Why the fuck are we getting the check already?” Adam asks, his body tense and expression matching the hound’s. 

“So you don’t run off.”

“Oh for fuck’s-”

“I got it!” You chirp quickly, reaching into your wallet to pull out a large bill. You gather it with the check, and hand it the hound. “Keep the change,” you tell them, adding a smile at the end of your words, hoping that that is enough to keep everything at bay.

The waiter glances between your hand and you, and takes it gently in their hand. They mumble a halfhearted thank-you under their breath and walk away. 

“What the fuck was that?” Adam asks. You take a sip of your drink, trying to find the right words. “I have money to pay for shit.”

“I don’t like confrontation. And it seemed like the two of you were going to get into it.” You kick your legs out, and your shoe bumps against Adam’s. “It just seemed easier to make them happy and leave us alone. But um, you can pay next time if you’d like.”

He scoffs. “You know I used to get shit for free in Heaven.” You scoff out a short laugh, your smile tender compared to his. “You don’t even get shit for free here.” 

You laugh at the statement, covering your smile with your hand. “No, unfortunately, you have to prove yourself down here. Between you and I, before your last extermination, not a lot of demons respected Charlie. She kinda had to prove herself and she did- that’s why she had cannibals on her side in the last extermination. Not a lot of people respect me- I never gave them a reason to care about me. I’m not famous or scary. I’m simply a demon who got lucky to be in Lucifer’s grace.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. There’s silence for a moment as you bite into your pastry. “Where would you go with him?”

“With Lucifer?” You ask, and he nods, his eyes fixated on his own plate. He moves the food around with a fork, letting it tear and poke through the food. “We’d do the usual stuff like dinner. But he’d take me to the other rings, sometimes. We’d go to Ozzie’s and have dinner and Asmodeus would have some of his best dancers perform for us. Or we’d go to Loo Loo Land and watch Fizzorolli at the circus.”

“Loo Loo Land?” Adam pulls a face at the name of the amusement park. 

“Oh, um Lucifer owns Lu Lu World, and Mammon- Greed- ripped it off, and made his own amusement park called Loo Loo Land. It’s nothing like Lu Lu World, but we would make fun of the rides, and it’s definitely not up to code.”

“Fucking asshole made an amusement park.”

You snort and take another bite off your plate. Covering your mouth with your hand, you swallow your food quickly. “I think you’d like it. The rides at least. But probably not all the Lucifer imagery.”

He scoffs and takes a bite of his meal. With a full mouth, he asks. “And now? What do ya’ll do?” 

“Well now, I beg him to eat with me, but I stopped doing that a while ago. I hated feeling dumb when he wouldn’t show up. But, I never really learn my lesson.” You look at him through your lashes, giving him a small smile, the corners only lifting for a brief moment before they fall. 

It’s silent for a moment, and you despise yourself for talking about Lucifer again. “I’m surprised you showed up today,” Adam says, his gaze turned the other way to watch hellions pass by. There’s a light tint that dusts over his cheeks, and he taps his nails on the table, the rhythm slow and controlled, jittering for just a second. 

Your hands are over the table, and with something sweet in your chest, you reach out to him. For the briefest second, the shortest moment, your fingers are outstretched, reaching to grab his hand, and when you catch his eyes, you let your hand slowly curl into a fist. “Of course, I came.” This must be how it feels to have a crush, to get excited over someone. “You invited me.” You’re screwed. In every possible way, you’re fucked. Adam entertained you enough for you to come at his beck and call, and you’re sure that you’re wide eyes and flustered, all smiles and laughter with him. “We are friends after all.” You want to hold his hand again. You need to hold him again, to feel his warmth, the callousness on his palms and fingertips. 

His eyes stare into your own, and you hold your breath. His lips part, and there’s uncertainty in the way that he holds himself, a speck of vulnerability that you had the grace of witnessing all those nights ago. And in the blink of an eye, it’s gone. His smile is sharp, and playful- too mischievous and out of sorts compared to before. “Friends with a fucking demon,” he scoffs, looking down at his plate, his smile stretched a bit too wide. “Who would have thought?”

The acknowledgement of his perceiving you as a friend, has you perk up in your seat. It’s been far too long since you’ve had friends. And while you think you want more, having him as a friend is enough to make the warmth in your chest spread. Dating a king left you too out of touch, too removed to connect with others. And those at the castle don’t even respect you, they can only tolerate you- a false partner, one undeserving of any title unlike the Queen before you. You’re happy- ecstatic, overjoyed. You have someone who likes you, who- in such a childlike glee- wants to be your friend. 

“Can you imagine that? An exorcist and a demon?” Your smile is wide, and you lean towards him, your body buzzing in excitement. “I’m sure that if you saw me out in the streets, you’d have attempted to kill me.”

“No attempts at anything, doll.” Adam points a finger at you, his smile proud and predatory. “I’d have spilled your guts all over the grimy ass floor.” His eyes gleam under the light, his smile scrunching up his eyes.

“Ha!” You snort. “You’re absolutely the worst.” Your laughter fills the air, and you light and bubbly. When you look at him again, he’s smiling gently at you, and it makes your laughter fade away. His hands are on the table, and you busy your hands with your food, hoping that the want to hold him will go away.

[poorwritingandstalecoffee]

in vita, in media morte sumus. Ch.1

WC: 2K

Note: New series popping out! I really have no idea the direction of this series or how many chapters will be included. Also, updates will likely be spread out since I am in the middle of the semester. Therefore, patience will be greatly appreciated with how quickly I can shell out chapters. Also, this is only the second extended work I've done, so once again, patience and kindness are very much appreciated.

Note: Also, Desdemona is 19-20 years old. The terms of her education at Nevermore will be explained in the upcoming chapters. HINT: Nevermore has blended into a high school/college atmosphere for Outcasts using alternating schedules.

BUZZZ!

*Rustling* 

“I.D.? … Hmm, here for the Addams girl?”

“What gave it away? The black or the black?”

“Tish, play nice, my love.” 

“Ohh, a playful little barb never hurt anybody, dear. Now, where is our little dagger, hmm?”

“Right this way,” the guard grumbled with his head down. He pulled the radio to his mouth. “Open cell block 394.”

BUZZ! 

Their banter reached your ears before you reached the end of the hall. It made you want to claw your ears to bloody shreds and stuff them down the throat of the guard that would not stop picking at his fucking fingers—flicking dirt from underneath the dead nailbed with the toothpick. Swipe, dig, flick. Swipe, dig, flick! Nothing like family to incite you into a murder spree.

Morticia and Gomez turned a corner and met you at the halfway point between cell block 394 and cell block 394-C. “Aahh! Our little dagger! Look at you in your little red uniform,” said Gomez, clapping his hands as if to seal the finality of his joy.

Morticia smirked at you and murmured, “Only the best for an Adams.” She winked at you behind the bars separating the cell blocks, making your lip twitch. 

Despite your distaste for her overtly sweet manner, you did appreciate her respect for your reputation that has awarded you such an unmatched level of security—a uniquely colored uniform and private cell block, in fact—and fear that wafted off those you passed, including the guard who has yet to remove his eyes from your form. You suppose rightly so since you did have the propensity to pounce on those inside the prison with teeth slashing into their pliable flesh, even if your hands were permanently locked into a steel cage. 

You watched the guard pocket his dirty toothpick and slowly speak into his radio while eyes remained watchful of you, “Open the gate.” 

The security light overhead flashed green while the gate buzzed open from a remote control center, and you stepped through the threshold. You sighed and walked up to your mother and father. “Hello, parents. Did you get bored of trying to act like you could still procreate and decide to pay your eldest a visit finally?”

“Desdemona!” Morticia shrieked. 

Gomez chuckled and touched her back to quell her growing frustration. “Easy, Tish, she’s just warming up for the day. You didn’t mean it, did you, my little hellion?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How serious are you about breaking me out of here?” You narrowed your eyes at him while all four of you, including the guard, walked back to the entrance. As the four of you stepped outside the prisoner living quarters, Gomez turned and gestured toward the guard, who was hesitantly moving toward you with a set of keys jingling in his unsteady hands. You watched him fit the correct key into the lock of the steel cage and turn the little knobs inside, releasing the pressure from the cuffs and letting them bounce apart from your wrists before the box snapped open and thudded to the ground. Your brow raised while you rubbed at your sore wrists. Giving a cursory glance at the guard, you thought, ehh, there’s better prey than you, little piggy. 

You turned toward your father and mother as they said, “Dead serious, darling.” You smirked and followed them to the car. Lurch let you all in, moved into the driver's seat, and put the pedal on the floor, leaving dust and gravel flying in your wake with the prison and the shaking guard fading into little dark spots.

Turning back to your parents, you said, “So, who did you kill, poison, or bribe to get my indefinite sentence halted?” 

Morticia and Gomez stopped fawning over each other and whispering like teenagers about their little escapades in their youth that were similar to this one. They turned to you, and Morticia said with a familiar smirk, “A certain judge might have suddenly come to the belief that were you not immediately released, his bowels might begin imploding on him, causing massive internal bleeding that would quickly escalate to extreme bloodloss and sudden death.”

You raised your brow, thinking, gross, definitely not your style. Then again, yours and your parents’ signatures have never quite aligned. Have they? “And he agreed to that?”

“Well…a little give was admittedly needed on our part, little dagger. No justice system would simply allow a famed serial murderer to walk without some sort of agreed-upon rehabilitation plan. That is what our little friend informed us." Gomez said this with palms up and a placating smile, knowing you would add in that you could have done it without having to bend your will, albeit coming away with messier hands and the smell of blood on you. 

Scoffing, you looked out the window, knowing whatever they agreed to put you through would not be to your liking, which would most certainly make your parents smirk with satisfaction—Morticia, anyway. Your relationship with your parents has always been a complicated one. “So, what will this forced rehabilitation plan look like, hmm?”

You could practically feel Morticia buzzing with selfish glee as she slowly said it, letting her lips form each word wholly before dropping them before you to splatter into the carpeted floorboard under your feet. “You're going to attend school with your younger sister, Dezzy. Our old alma mater, Nevermore Academy.”

“WHAT?” You barely registered that she used that stupid, loathsome nickname because all you could hear was your blood ringing through your ears. Your heartbeat sped up, imagining you mingling with petty little tweens and other teenagers as they giggled, cursed, sweated, cried, and chatted with one another. Their germs and fluids mixing as bodies inevitably tangled, writhed, and pulled at one another while they threw away all of their intellectual capacities for brief moments of desire and ecstasy. You don’t know how Wednesday does it every day. God, I hope that place hasn’t changed her, you thought. 

“Oh, come now, Dezzy–

“I told you never to call me that! You know how I feel about that fucking nickname!” You screamed, images of you trapped and bashing your fists against the underside of the musty floorboards while tears streamed down your cheeks, listening to the girls chanting Dezzy! Dezzy! The scared little baby! above you flashed in your eyes. You blinked the memories away and looked at Morticia out of the corner of your eyes with betrayal and disappointment. She never fucking learns, you thought.

Morticia was always startled at your outbursts, the level of fury you could hurl at her in a second. Like the flip of a match, you exploded on her, which never fails to leave her speechless and hurt. She looked to Gomez for support but found him nudging his head towards you as a signal to apologize; Morticia, come on. She looked at you as you stared out the window, watching the foliage blur into greens and browns. Sighing, she thought, fucking stupid, you remember why she hates that name, hell you walked in on them doing it, Morticia! Leaning her head towards you, she tries to get your attention again and slowly says, “I’m sorry darling, I- I know, I shouldn’t have said that. It slipped out before I knew what I was saying, little dagger. Desdemona darling…” she waited for you to look at her, “forgive me?”

You studied her expression, saw the plea in her eyes, and remembered how she ripped out the floorboards, picked you up from that dark, spider-infested place, and held you in her arms. While you cried and clung to her, she held you and screamed how could you? What is wrong with you? You’re fucking monsters! to the group of blushing girls caught red-handed. You remember how she stormed into the headmaster’s office, demanding an explanation for why he didn’t protect you, why those girls were left unsupervised, why he let you go so long without a single friendship made at that damned school? Above all, you remember her vowing never to bring her daughter back to that hellhole and that he could say goodbye to his reputation and credentials as an educator. You recall as she carried you out of there, hearing her swearing on her mother’s grave that he and those girls would pay severely for making her baby scream and cry out in fear. Ohh, how you could hear her chanting something deadly in her spell room while Gomez talked with strange men about visiting the families of those unfortunate, monstrous people, and finally, you remember seeing four little dolls that looked so like the condemned from that school wind up on your mother’s desk in gruesome conditions with pins and burned bodies.

“Okay, fine, I forgive you—but only for the nickname, not for this nightmare you are about to put me through,” you grumbled and leaned your head on the back of the seat. 

Morticia smiled and forced herself not to reach out and clasp your hands because she knew how alike her daughters could be. Instead, she grasped Gomez’s arm and said, “Nevermore is a charming little gothic wonderland! We swear it is not like other schools; Nevermore is a place for freaks, ghouls, werewolves, vampires, and gothics alike. Tell her, Gomez.”

“Tish is right, my little dagger. Nevermore is unlike any school; it was founded by Faulkner himself, after all. The principal there is devoted to ensuring every student feels welcome…especially after what happened last year, the school has become more like a family of goths and freaks that protects its own.” 

“How touching,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm in response to their sickly sweet praises of the school. You looked out the window and saw the beginnings of a massive castle-like structure forming in the distance. Turning to your parents, you sighed, “Well, if I am to spend the rest of my sentence here, at least tell me more of this famous school and its esteemed principal that you’re so giddy to bore me over—quickly though, otherwise my ears might burst with anymore prolonged exposure to your insane joy.”

Morticia frowned at the word sentence and watched you smirk at her facial expression. Sighing, she thought, sometimes you and Wednesday are too alike before going into detail with Gomez about the academy’s history and the unfortunate events of last year. The tales of the raving monster they called the Hyde and its evil commander, how they ravaged the town, the school, and everyone that came unsuspectingly into their path—they were gruesome. Morticia and Gomez smirked at the unmistakable growing spark of curiosity and thrill in your eyes. An Adams through and through. They told you how Wednesday and her band of misfits were crucial to stopping the Hyde and its evil commander, Mrs. Thornhill, and how Wednesday’s known skill for potionmaking ended up saving the principal with one of her concocted antidotes. Indeed, what a tale of misery, murder, and mystery it was. Agatha Christie would be pleased, you thought. 

…

Staring up at the gothic architecture, in all its dark, sullen glory, you thought it impressive. At least your parents were not wrong about the appearance and atmosphere of the place. Nevermore is most certainly a school reserved for only the best of freaks and goths; you could see students roaming about under the gables, curved archways, gargoyles, and on the marbled and grassy surfaces of the quad and the lawn surrounding the gothic concrete creature. It looked more like an overdone mansion than a school. Students dressed in matching dark purple and blue uniforms, some with black glasses, others with mixed expressions of glee, curiosity, suspicion, or dread, and carrying books, backpacks, trinkets, or all three; it made them look like little characters from a story that were hiding powers and ambiguous morality. 

Making your way through the school entrance with your parents on your heels and gossiping about the glorious days of their youth—yuck!—you came face to face with the gold plaque of Principal Weems. You could hear her typing away on her laptop and talking on the phone about a banquet, or was it a dance? Her voice was distinctly sweet yet deep—how dark could it go?—and smoothly rich, the voice of someone who was not afraid to demand respect and authority she likely felt she was rightly due…and of someone who was used to receiving it promptly, with haste…someone who rarely found herself matched and challenged. Hmm, you might actually have some fun here, Des. With that thought, you knocked sharply on her door, hearing her voice come to a halt before she murmured a short apology and goodbye, followed by a short silence and then the rhythmic, steady click of her heels as she approached the other side of the wooden barrier.