#italian typewriter

[lord-emerson]

Adagio con amore

Rating: General

Relationships: Aria Carmichael/Elisa de Bartolomeo

Tags: Fluff, Grief & Mourning, Healing Through Music

Words: 449

Summary: For the first time since leaving the Surface, Aria decides to dust off her violin. Memories of her past with Elisa come flooding back.

[A secret swap fic for @bizarrebazaar13, as part of the @fallenlondonficswap! Since you asked for music, OCs and Mahogany Hall, I hope this will be to your liking. I am weak for portraying the devotion of a Nemesis PC and I really hope I did the sapphics justice 💜]

Even when she’s handling experiments of potentially catastrophic consequences, Aria’s hands never shake. Her bandaged right might itch or burn, sure. But she always soldiers on and completes her work with all the rigor and dedication of a true scientist.

So why are they shaking now, when all she’s doing is holding the neck of a violin?

She lifts the instrument gently from its case. Though she hasn’t played a single note since leaving the Surface, the case and violin itself are in perfect condition. Not a speck of dust to be seen. Violin’s a little out of tune, perhaps.

Aria’s hand goes to twist one of the pegs, then stops abruptly. It is a novel sight, her bandages laid against the polished wood of the violin. Her past, crashing against her present like waves against the cliffside.

She takes a deep breath. The tide retreats.

Aria needed to remember why she was doing this. It didn’t feel right to play without Elisa; it hasn’t for years now. But last night at Mahogany Hall they… they played Tchaikovsky.

A soft touch against your ankle.

A sudden, discordant sound as you drag your bow across the strings. You open your eyes (when did you close them exactly?) and see Elisa at the piano, her leg outstretched, gently poking you with the tip of her shoe.

“Sorry. Got carried away,” you say, embarrassed.

“Not at all, cucciola. You were wonderful,” she smiles. So warm, so familiar. “I just wanted to ask… Perhaps you could sit down next to me as you play?”

Elisa scoots down the piano bench and pats the newly freed space next to her. You exhale, soft and pleased. Of course she didn’t interrupt you to make fun of you. Of course she just wanted you to be closer. Always closer.

You waste no time getting settled down next to your lover. Your back to the piano, your upper thigh brushing against her knee. She leans in and lays a kiss on your shoulder. Even through the fabric of your blouse, it leaves behind a burning, soothing mark.

You switch the violin from your left hand to the right, just in case she decides to do it again.

Aria rubs her shoulder absent-mindedly. This time, the burning feeling has nothing to do with the touch of Elisa’s lips. Aria sighs and places the violin under her chin.

“This one’s for you, cucciola.”

When she closes her eyes, she thinks about Mahogany Hall. She thinks about the song she’s heard, their song. Her hands move on instinct, the melody flowing out of her very soul. In the distance, she swears she can hear the sounds of a piano playing.

[dudeshusband]

1. if i worked at starbucks i would kill you

2. 🇮🇹

[federicagiordanophotography]

[forever70s]

Olivetti typewriters ad, 1969

[intertexts-moving]

kind of wizardcoded 2day

[jazzyoranges]

Can you write a friends with benefits situation Wednesday or Tara has with gp reader? Wednesday or Tara enforces a no strings attach policy but of course reader has to catch feelings and admits their feelings. It freaks Tara/wednesday and causes her to push them away and ghost them effectively hurting the reader who after a while tries to rebound with another girl causing major jealousy from Tara/Wednesday. You can choose the ending I just wanna see some jealous smut and angst mix in there 😩

She’s my Collar

Wednesday Addams x fem!werewolf!reader

Words: 4.6k (whoopsies)

Warnings: gp!reader, definitely ooc Wednesday, heat cycles, unprotected sex, knotting, explicit smut, everyone is 18+, Wednesday calls you a mutt and a puppy, breeding kink, is it really pet play if you’re actually a pet?, italian/spanish pet names and phrases, possessive Wednesday, fluff, angst i think

A/n: so sorry it took so long for me to write this anon who requested 😓 could be read as a prequel to this fic, but not specifically written as one. also i kinda strayed away from the original request, sorry about that too 😭🫶

MINORS DNI!

Wednesday didn’t want to admit it, but she was feeling a certain emotion that was completely undesirable. You’ve been out sick for an entire week. Wednesday hadn’t seen you in the last 8 days, 17 hours, and 42 minutes. But who was counting? Definitely not the Addams girl

Others would say Wednesday looked the same as any other week, but Enid’s roommate senses were tingling. Constantly fiddling with her rings, the very prominent scowl on her face that was meaner than usual, and the common frustrated grunts when Wednesday would make a mistake with her writing. Something was up, and not even god herself couldn’t stop Enid from figuring it out

While Wednesday was smart in every aspect except social, Enid’s people smarts came in useful every now and again. It really didn’t take long for her to piece two and two together. Angry roommate while someone she frequently hung out with was out sick? It was child’s play, really. All she needed to do was have Wednesday come to the same conclusion as her

Easier said that done, really. Wednesday was a knucklehead not so smart when it came to emotions. Any emotion other than creating despair, Wednesday struggled with. Luckily Enid was dedicated and also a knucklehead

Currently Wednesday was seated at her desk, simply staring at a blank piece of paper without moving. On any normal day her fingers would be speeding across the typewriter with ideas constantly coming to her. Now she was met with absolute digital silence from her mind, which proved to be discouraging and inconvenient to say the least

“Alright, Wednesday. What’s going on?”

“I have not a clue what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been different this entire week. Spill the beans”

“As I’ve just said, I don’t have the information you want.”

“It’s because you haven’t seen her all week, right? You miss her, don’t you?”

“Why would I miss that mutt of a werewolf? I do not miss Y/n.”

“I never said her name, yet you know exactly who I’m talking about. Funny how that works, Wednesday” Enid teases. Her roomie has been caught red handed

“If you want your tongue, I’d recommend you stop talking.”

“Cmon, Wednesday, I’m being serious. It’s not weird to miss a friend. How about you check up on her?”

“First, I do not miss her. Second, she is definitely fine. I do not need to check up on her.”

“She’s been out sick for an entire week. She texted me just today the sickness isn’t showing any signs of stopping”

“Why has she not called the nurse, then?”

“She told me they ran out of the medicine she needs. The sickness is werewolf specific. I’ve gotten it before and it hurt like a bitch without medicine”

“What kind of school clinic runs out of medicine?” Wednesday says under her breath while getting up. Presumably to check on you, Enid assumes

“It’s really high in demand right now. It only infects werewolves, so you won’t catch it”

“I suppose I’ll ask Y/n on the specifics of her current condition. Perhaps it could be a part in my writings.”

“I’m sure it will be, Wednesday. Tell me how it goes!” Enid waves goodbye to Wednesday as she exits, and the Addams misses her roommates wolfish grin

Luckily your dorm isn’t too far away from Ophelia hall but it’s still a considerable walk to and from. The walk there gives Wednesday enough time to really question why she was doing this. She did not care for you, that was most definitely certain. At least that’s what Wednesday kept telling herself when she neared your room

The Addams girl hesitated before she knocked on your door. She could hear you whimpering and whining in pain, your tail quickly thumping against your bed. The shorter girl bit the bullet and held her fist against the door, quickly knocking on it

“Open up, Y/n or I’ll be forced to axe down your door.”

“Go away, Wednesday” Your voice was muffled

“Either I pick your lock or you open this door. Make your decision.”

Wednesday hears your feel shuffle to the door, and you open it just enough for your eye to peek out. Wednesday immediately notices your flushed skin and dark eye bags. You’re only wearing a tank top and boxers, trying to hide your lower body behind the door

“What do you want?” You spit out a bit more aggressively than you mean to

“I’ve come to check up on your illness”

“I’m uh- I’m okay. You can go now, Wednesday”

“You obviously aren’t, you haven’t gone to your classes all week.”

“Listen, I’m not actually sick. If I tell you what’s actually happening, promise you won’t freak out?”

“I promise.”

You suck in a breath to calm your nerves. “I’m in heat. The school clinic ran out of suppressants, so I haven’t been able to come to classes”

Wednesday looked you up and down, and in a split second she felt something she hadn’t before. Something about how your wolfish features came out. Ears were pressed against your head, tail hung low and swaying softly, and Wednesday noticed your fangs poke out when you spoke

“Let me help you.”

“W-What?” You momentarily stoped holding the door, and Wednesday let herself inside. Wednesday was immediately hit with a musk that was so… you. Werewolves weren’t her major, but she could tell you’ve marked your entire room with your own scent. Something about it made Wednesday’s mind think of all the unspeakable things she wanted to do to you

“Uh, sorry for the mess. And sorry for the smell, I know it’s bad…” You shift on your feet, and it’s only then Wednesday notices the tent in your boxers. Quickly mumbling out apology after apology, you move your tail so it covers your growing erection

“Stop apologizing, it’s getting quite annoying. I said I’d help you, did I not?”

“Help me like..?”

“Yes. Help you as in having sexual intercourse”

Your cheeks flush red and you have to actively stop your tail from wagging in excitement. Wednesday takes a step closer, but you take a step back

“A-Are you sure? You’re human, and I’m a werewolf. Your body isn’t designed to handle our heats”

Wednesday takes another step closer to you, grabbing your neck to make you look straight in her eyes. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes your throat

“I decide what I can handle.” The shorter girl firmly gropes at your clothed erection, and you moan at the contact

“Wednesday, I-”

“A dumb puppy is what you are. Why didn’t you tell me you were in heat?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t think you’d care” When Wednesday starts to massage your clothed cock more roughly, she earns another moan out of your throat

“Please, please make it better, Wednesday. It hurts so fucking much” You whimper, and Wednesday wonders if you’d look good in a collar with her name on it. She’d have to save that idea for a different day.

“Puppy.”

“Wednesday?”

“Take everything off. I want to see all of you.”

Wordlessly, you start to strip, which doesn’t take long since you’re barely wearing any clothes. Your mindless obedience made Wednesday happy. You start with your tank top and the Addams chooses to observe every part of you. Wednesday notices you’re considerably more furry than usual, your happy trail showing just above your boxer briefs

“Are you sure?” You ask nervously when you reach your boxers, and Wednesday is getting considerably more impatient

“Do I have to do everything for you?” Wednesday mutters while she takes off your boxers instead. The shorter girl sucks in a breath when your hardened cock slaps against your stomach

Wednesday didn’t expect you to be so… lewdly big. Looking at the size of your erection only reminded her your body was meant to breed. You were designed to reproduce, and the thought turned Wednesday on more than she liked

The shorter girl pushes you onto your bed, and she takes a second to look at the state you’re in

“Please, Wednesday…” You whine

“Be patient, Y/n. You’ll get there eventually”

“It hurts so much, please I can’t wait” Begging harder, Wednesday doesn’t likehow her first instinct is to give you what you want

“You’re lucky I tolerate you. If you were any other person, I’d think this was dehumanizing.” She pushes you further back, licking a stripe up your tip and across a vein. You have to stop yourself from cumming embarrassingly quick

Wednesday keeps giving your shaft long kitten-licks and you’re in heaven when she finally decides to suck your tip with a new type of hunger.

And due to previous attempts at suppressing your heat by yourself, your cock was absolutely raw at how much you masturbated. It only made Wednesday’s tongue feel even better

She hollows out her cheeks, making your tip hit the back of her throat. This earns a groan from the back of your throat. You didn’t know if touching was allowed due to her track record of broken arms and hands, so you decide to play it safe by just holding onto your bedsheets for dear life

“F-Fuck, I’m about to-“ Before you can finish your sentence, Wednesday pulls away from your cock. The look on your face is something Wednesday would like to cherish. Your penis was twitching like crazy. It was drooling with pre-cum and the shorter girls saliva. She couldn’t help but admire how you shook under her

“Why’d you stop?” Whining seemed to be a strong suit of yours

“In me.” Wednesday wipes a bit of her saliva off her chin, and you swear it’s the most attractive thing ever “Now.”

“Huh?”

“You know what I mean. Really, do I always have to spell it out for you?”

“You have to cut me some slack here, Wens…”

“I suppose I could provide an understanding for your view. You’re nothing but a dumb pup, are you not? Your kind is known to follow orders.”

“I think you’re confusing me with a domesticated dog, Wednesday”

“If I were to demand you pluck stars from the night, you would, would you not?”

“I mean I would, but for different reasons…”

“My point still stands.” Wednesday mumbles, sinking down on your erection. You don’t remember when she got naked, but you’re also not exactly complaining

The Addams holds onto your shoulders for support, and you hesitate before putting your hands on her hips. Luckily you made the right choice, your warm hands directly polar to Wednesday’s.

It takes a little effort for Wednesday to completely take in your cock, but the stretch is worth it when she sees your labored breathing like she’s the best pussy you’ve ever had. Which, Wednesday wouldn’t admit she was proud of. She could feel every vein on your cock and every twitch made her spiral into thoughts of you

The sight is funny, you think. The Wednesday Addams is impaled on your cock. The Wednesday Addams that saved Nevermore. The Wednesday Addams that was notorious for being gorgeously scary. That Wednesday Addams was riding your dick like her life depended on it.

Skin slapping together was music to your ears, and the feeling in your lower stomach you recognized well was rapidly building up. Wednesday came with a hitch in her breath, and you reluctantly pulled out before releasing your own cum with a groan. Both of you are left breathing hard.

“There will be a silver bullet in your skull if you so much as think about telling anyone about this.” Wednesday mutters in between breaths.

“Duly noted.”

—

You’ve been in this arrangement with Wednesday for about 4 months, now

The first month consisted of a casual fuck here and there. After a particularly hard week, teachers being annoying, or a hard test. It wasn’t difficult to keep your situation away from your friends. For all they knew, you two were still the platonic match-made-in-hell duo that were strictly friends

The second month was a little harder to keep your situation away from your friends. Wednesday would randomly pull you into any empty closet or classroom she could for a quick orgasm to get her through the day

The third month was rough. You two went on dates as you liked to call it, but Wednesday would call them study sessions or hangouts. Trips to Jericho on the weekend, Wednesday helping you with botany, it was practically impossible to separate both of you. Unfortunately your friends became suspicious

So during the fourth month, a new vampire transferred to Nevermore. You were assigned to give her a tour of the school and her classes. When Wednesday saw you two hang out when you’d usually see the Addams, she suspected the tour went better than anticipated. What Wednesday expected to be a minor inconvenience for one day, caused her many unwanted thoughts. It made a vein pop out of her neck. (not literally, but that’s what it felt like)

Wednesday noticed how you two started spending more time together after and during school. Of course there was definitely a reasonable explanation, you were her only friend. Unfortunately a very minuscule part of her brain is telling her you like the new vampire more than the Addams. The thought didn’t sit right with her

You were supposed to be Wednesday’s. You were supposed to only have eyes for the Addams and not some vampire that doesn’t even make you half as happy as her. You would always be Wednesday’s. When you finally realized the vampire wasn’t enough to satiate your needs, Wednesday would be there. She would be there to catch your fall, and the thought made her uncomfortable.

Wednesday Addams, a feared individual that wore her heart tucked under enough layers of blunt sarcasm and a deathly scary look, yet once glance from you sent her spiraling into something between fear and love. She hated it. She hated you. Wednesday hated you for bringing this side out of her she swore to be kept away from the surface of her character.

The Addams couldn’t afford this. You were her weakness. You definitely knew this as well. Unwanted doubt flooded her mind. Thoughts that ended up with you exploiting her only weakness made her heart ache, and not in a way she enjoyed.

You would end up breaking off your relationship with the Addams, leaving her to be made a fool as you were the only one that could do it. The worst part is Wednesday couldn’t even be angry with you. She knew you deserved someone of your own kind. Another werewolf that would understand and satiate your needs. Wednesday would end the arrangement the next time she saw you.

—

“(L/n).”

“Wednesday?” You open up your door with a smile on your face. A sight for sore eyes is what you were.

“We cannot continue our arrangement.”

“What? What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Wednesday wished she could take back her words, but she was doing this to keep herself safe. To make you happy.

“Our late night meetings can no longer continue. I’ve grown uncomfortable with your presence.”

“Wednesday, I-“

“A nuisance is what you are. You’re needy, and you can’t do anything by yourself. You really are just a dumb mutt. You are incapable of doing anything except cling to me like a lost child.” Wednesday spits out, and something akin to regret dawns on her face

Stray tears leave your eyes and you wipe them up as quickly as they fall, but Wednesday notices. She can tell you’re trying to be strong, your quivering lip giving you away

“I’m- I’m sorry you feel that way, Addams.” You say before turning your back on Wednesday, closing the door. Broken sobs escape your throat, and Wednesday brings her hand up to your doorknob. She thinks a little longer before a single tear falls from her eye. She turns to leave instead.

—

Three weeks, nearing four since you’ve last talked to Wednesday. You’ve been out for a week and a half and Wednesday knows exactly why. Since the Addams has been helping with your heats for the past few months, you haven’t needed to request for more suppressants. Neither you nor Wednesday knew why your heats were commonly hell-ish and lasted for weeks without the suppressants you desperately needed

Really, she could picture you right now. You would’ve found the boxers that created the least amount of friction, and you’d be whimpering and whining while your tail rapidly thumped against the bed mattress. Finding the nearest thing to bite, which usually happened to be your bed frame, you’d sink your teeth into the cold wood and find a splinter on your tongue the next time you brushed your teeth. Rinse and repeat until you eventually fell asleep or Wednesday saved you from your own body

It was pathetic how much you constantly needed Wednesday…and consequently, how much Wednesday needed you.

Disgusting is the only word Wednesday can choose when thinking of how much space in her mind you took up. She was seated in the Quad while eating an apple and contemplating her life. Which, was not in an ideal situation.

“I know you want to talk to her, Wednesday” Enid takes a seat near the shorter girl

“I do not.”

“I know for a fact you didn’t mean what you said. Unfortunately, you’re too stubborn to realize it”

“She has that new girl, does she not?”

“For the last time, Wednesday, they aren’t dating”

“They may as well be. The two are practically attached at the hip”

“So were you two, but then you decided to fuck it all up and haven’t talked to her since” Enid groans. This is was going to be harder than she thought

“Wednesday, you know how much I love you, right?”

“Annoyingly so.”

“Not-so-respectfully, you fucked up really bad. I know you didn’t mean it, but would you rather see her kiss another girl, or would you rather be the girl she kisses?”

The question makes Wednesday hesitate, and relief washes over Enid. Did she want to be with you? She mentally scoffs at the thought. The Wednesday Addams uncharacteristically soft for a girl. Outrageous. Disgusting. Absolutely unheard-

“Well, it seems you have your answer. Talk to her right now, ‘kay?” Enid knew her roomie would do the right thing even if it was gut wrenchingly difficult

The shorter girl only responds with a grumble, but it’s enough of an answer for Enid to skip away and continue being the social butterfly she was. Wednesday was going to… apologize to you. Just thinking of the word made her recoil, but it was you she was going to. As much as Wednesday didn’t like apologizing, she didn’t want to admit the thought of being away from you any longer was the worse option

She was almost in the same exact situation almost five months ago. Only this time you were sad, and it was Wednesday’s job to make you feel better (in more ways than one)

It didn’t take long getting to your dorm. She knew all of the correct routes and shortcuts to take. Wednesday was met with a tightly locked door and a knob that had collected dust after the past week and a half. She brought a hand to the door, knocking loudly

The Addams was only met with silence. That is, silence, with the exception of stray whines and whimpers

“It’s Wednesday.” Silence again.

“I know you’re in there. Ignore me and I’ll find other means to see you.” More silence

“You’ve made your decision.” The shorter girl sighs, taking a lock pick from her uniform pocket. Why she had a lock pick? For important situations like these, of course

When Wednesday finally managed to unlock your door, she noticed how you looked considerably worse than the first time the Addams decided to help you with your heat

What Wednesday didn’t expect was you fully naked sprawled on your bed. Bite marks littered your bed frame and a chew toy Wednesday bought to mock you, but it ended up being somewhat helpful. A low quality fan spun, only making your scent waft around the room even more. An air freshener was mentally added to her list of things to buy

“Go away, Wednesday.” You growled. You never growled. “If you’re here to mock me and call me a nuisance, I’d recommend you leave”

“I came to help.”

“You’ve full of bullshit, aren’t you?”

“I’m not lying, Y/n.”

“Go away, Wednesday, I’m not going to say it again.” The Addams only took this as an invitation to step closer to your bed where you were laying face down and a light blanket to cover your ass

When you only heard footsteps near, something inside you snapped. You were a werewolf. Not a puppy that said please with a tail between your legs. No, you would make Wednesday leave. Also you were sexually frustrated while in heat, so that was definitely fuel to your sour mood

Before she could register what had happened, you pinned the smaller girl to the floor. Your pupils contracted into small circles while there was a permanent snarl on your face

“I said, go away.” Your erection accidentally brushes against Wednesday’s thigh, and she was suddenly aware of how much self control you had for not already relentlessly stuffing the shorter girl full of your cum

“Knot me, cucciola.”

When the words leave Wednesday’s mouth, something in you changes. You’re overcome with sinful thoughts, and your cock starts to drool with precum at the image of Wednesday being full of you. It’s sinful, truly

“Is that why you came here? Just to be bred?”

“No, but it seems my words are working. You’re incredibly hard.” The shorter girl grabs your erection, jerking you off roughly

“Puppy.”

“Don’t… don’t call me that.” You say in between moans. Wednesday starts to sit up, and your back meets the side of your bed frame

“Cucciola wants to breed?”

“F-Fuck you.”

“We’re getting there, mi sol” The pet name accidentally slips, but you’re far too blissed out to notice

“She can’t make you feel as good as me, can she?”

“W-What? Who are you talking about?”

“You know who. The vampire that can’t get her hands off you.”

“Wednesday, we’re no-“ The shorter girl only started to stroke you faster. Her hand barely fit around your cock, but it still felt like heaven

“I don’t- I don’t like her that way” You say in between moans. Your orgasm was nearing and Wednesday knew this. She slowed down her pace, and you whined at the sudden loss of stimulation

“Knot me.”

“Huh?”

“Show me you don’t like her the way you like me.” You only notice your proximity after she speaks. Your noses are only inches apart. Wednesday’s eyes flick down to your lips, and you quickly close the distance

Wednesday was an addiction. Nicotine, acid, weed, none of it compared to how you felt while kissing Wednesday. You’d get drunk off her taste and crave it until she was in your arms once again. It was hell without her

When the shorter girl accidentally grinds on you, a surge of lust runs through your body. You quickly pick her up with your lips still attached to hers and take off her skirt. You couldn’t go another second without being in Wednesday

Sinking her onto your hardened erection, you let out a gasp of pleasure when her velvety walls stretch at your intrusion. You’re holding up her body by her thighs, and Wednesday just wishes you’d go faster.

“Cucciolo, ti amo.” The Addams moans when she looks down to see she’s only taken half of your length in her pussy. The sight is rather lewd, Wednesday thinks. Your cock is absolutely dripping with pre-cum when you push yourself further in her

“Mierda. Más, cachorro. Tan bueno para mi.” Wednesday slips into her native tongue. You haven’t seen her like this any other time she’s… helped you out

Bringing your lips to hers again, you decide to be in control when you push your tongue into her mouth. Eyes half lidded, bangs sticking to her forehead, and hair a bit disheveled, you think she’s never been prettier.

You let Wednesday rest a bit before sinking your cock deeper into her cunt, and the Addams ends up scratching you hard enough small amounts blood start to drip down your back. The sensation takes you by surprise. Accidentally bucking your hips up further into Wednesday, the girl lets out a groan as she fully takes your length in her pussy.

Placing her on the bed, you notice a tiny bulge in her stomach. You decide to be bold. Pressing your thumb against the intrusion, you hear a sound you’ve never heard before

Wednesday whimpers at your touch.

You do it again.

Her cunt squeezes around your cock, making it harder for you to keep thrusting. But you’re a wolf in heat and Wednesday is incredibly horny, so you continue your movements.

“Sh-She’ll never- she’ll never be as good as you, Wens…” An unexpected growl comes from deep within your throat

“No one can take my cock as good as you…” You’re thrusting considerably faster when Wednesday looks back down at where you two meet. The scenario folding out is a sight for sore eyes, the Addams thinks. You, feeding into your primal urges like it’s an unstoppable beast; and Wednesday willingly taking it in however she can.

“Cara mia.”

“Mine… mine all mine. No one else but mine…” You whimper a little pathetically, but the girl below you is only focused on your thrusts. Her cold hands find their way to your back again, leaving a trail of blood behind

“Yours, puppy. All yours.” Wednesday feeds into your possessive behavior. She knows she shouldn’t, but with you thoughts of reason leave her head and are replaced with thoughts of you

“Were you serious about the knotting, Wens?”

“Deathly.”

“Are you- mph~ sure? It’s kinda big…” The girl under you looks down again, and your ever growing knot seems to just be getting bigger and bigger. Even horny out of your mind, you still wanted to make sure your mate was alright.

…you decide to ignore that thought.

Your eyes were trained on how your erection stretched out Wednesday. Her pussy would be yours, and yours alone. Nobody would make her feel as good as you did. You’d make sure she wouldn’t need anyone else’s cock but yours.

A breathy moan erupts from your throat when you start to actively try to push your knot into Wednesday

“Relax for me Wens, it’ll never go in unless you want it too” You feel her tensed under your touch, but your words are enough for her to relax

Every thrust you get closer, until you eventually start to reach your peak. You can tell Wednesday is too. Her hair is messy and both of your bodies are littered with marks of possession.

“I-I’m so close Wens…” Are the last words you say before succeeding in pushing your knot into the Addams girl. You cum inside of Wednesday’s pussy, and the swell of your knot inside her is enough for Wednesday to cum impaled on your cock. The feeling of being full is an experience Wednesday wished she did with you far sooner.

You wiggle your hips to seemingly get more comfortable inside of Wednesday, but the movement only makes her moan. She was sensitive as hell.

“…was that enough proof I like you more than I like her?”

“More than enough, (Y/n).”

[marvelfilth]

Little death (18+)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x f!reader

Warnings: g!p Wednesday, soft Wednesday, established relationship, smut, blow job, cockwarming, lots of Italian petnames.

Summary: working with normies takes a toll on Wednesday, but, luckily, you're always there to make it better.

A/n: I don't know any Italian, so please tell me if I made any mistakes.

Masterlist

You wake up to the sound of the front door clicking shut. Blinking blearily you hide a yawn behind your palm. The clock reads eleven pm and you sigh, wiping the sleep out of your eyes as you trudge into the kitchen, where Wednesday fixes herself a cup of coffee. You frown, stepping into her line of vision.

"Cara mia," she greets, "you should be asleep." She frowns as you unsuccessfully try to hide another yawn.

"I wanted to wait for you." You gesture to the couch and Wednesday grips the cup tighter.

You know she doesn't like it when you sacrifice sleep for her sake, but what she doesn't know is that you can't properly rest without her by your side, holding you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

Lately she's been spending more and more time at the station, working twice as hard as her peers to receive twice as little credit. It's eating away at both of you. She claims it doesn't bother her - the way they refuse to take her seriously, even when she solves cases that usually take months in weeks - but you see it in her rigid posture and the clench of her jaw. She wants recognition and she has every right to demand it.

"I still have some work to do." Her tone is monotone, but her eyes betray her emotions - she hates the words just as much as you do.

You nod. "I'll heat up your dinner." You turn around to busy yourself at the stove, but a hand on your wrist stops you.

"I'm not hungry." Her words are barely a whisper. "Go back to sleep. In our bed."

You want to argue, but you see the look in her eyes, the one that tells you you won't win. So you push her fringe to the side and place a tender kiss to her forehead. "Don't stay too long, okay?"

She nods reluctantly and takes measured steps to her office, a cup of coffee in hand.

You sink against the counter, shaking your head. The girl is going to work herself to death.

You remember the first time you asked her why she is so adamant on working at the police station when she has the money, the means and the skill to open her own firm. You remember the way she stood up straighter (you didn't even know it was possible) and told you only one thing, "No matter how much it pains me to admit it, they're far more experienced then I am, and their expertise is one I can learn from."

You sigh and walk into your bedroom, accompanied by the tapping of Wednesday's typewriter. You decide to give her an hour, tops.

Thing taps on the nightstand rapidly, despite the exhaustion you can clearly see in the added wrinkles on the pale skin. You shake your head, "You'll lose a finger if you do that."

He slumps back dramatically, and you can almost see him huff.

"I'll get her in an hour, don't worry. Just go rest."

He leaves with that, albeit begrudgingly, and you make sure he doesn't go anywhere near Wednesday's office to hide her briefcase.

You spend at least twenty minutes laying on the bed and staring mindlessly at the ceiling. When half an hour passes you get up and make your own cup of coffee, sleep already forgotten by the time you take the last sip.

Thing wiggles a finger at you and you roll your eyes, "It's one cup, Thing, I'll be fine."

He taps on the pillow and you sigh.

"Yes, I'm aware it's almost midnight."

He taps again, this time forcefully and you feel like a reprimanded child.

"Okay! I get it. No need to act like my mom. I just don't want to fall asleep and let Wednesday work until the morning," you mumble, earning a sympathetic pat on your shoulder.

You look at the clock again. Quarter to midnight.

You decide to test your luck.

"I told you to go back to sleep."

You burrow into her neck, your breath fanning the skin there. "You don't need to apologize." You start loosening her tie, and take it off when she doesn't protest.

You freeze in the doorway. Your girlfriend continues typing, but you can tell she hears you shuffling around as you make your way to her.

"You had coffee." She says as soon as your arms circle her shoulders. She sighs and pushes back against you, letting her head fall on your shoulder in a display of vulnerability only you are allowed to witness. "I'm sorry," she utters.

"Cuore mio," she mumbles, tilting her head to grant you access.

You hum, peppering her neck with featherlight kisses, hands sneaking beneath the collar of her shirt to trace her collarbones.

"Let me take care of you, Weds." Your words press into her skin, your lips brushing the sensitive spot on her neck. "Please?"

She pushes your hands away and turns her chair to face you and it's the only answer you need. You sit on her lap, her hands land on your waist, squeezing gently. Her eyes close as you unbutton her shirt, and she relaxes in your hold, almost melting into the leather of her office chair. You waste no time in getting it off, presenting yourself with a delicious view of her pale body. You lean lower to tease her breasts with your teeth. Her hands slide lower on your waist and you take it as a sign to move. You take off her bra in one swift motion and throw it on the floor, latching on the exposed skin faster than it hits the floor.

She whimpers quietly, the sound almost going unnoticed by you. You grind on her lap, feeling her harden, and get back to work, enveloping the other nipple in the warmth of your mouth, enjoying the way she arches into you.

"I'm gonna use my mouth, okay?" You breathe out, palming her over her pants.

She nods shakily as her hands settle on your ass, squeezing possessively. "Anything you want."

You squeeze her shaft before climbing off her lap onto the floor, but she stops you, blinking as she looks around the room. Her eyes glint and she reaches to grab a blanket you gifted her off the small sofa. She folds it neatly before placing it on the floor near her feet, only then allowing you to kneel before her.

You feel like you're about to explode.

"I love you," you whisper, kissing her knee, "so much."

Her face lights up with a rare smile, making your heart squeeze tightly in your chest. "I know, mia amata, I know." The term of endearment so easily slipping past her lips makes you nuzzle into her thigh, littering it with kisses.

You don't know how you got so lucky.

She gently massages your scalp, not rushing you as you both bask in the moment. You pull away just enough to undo her belt and buttons on her pants. She lifts her hips and you slide them off slowly, revealing the bulge poorly concealed by her boxers. Her fingers thread through your hair and you lean to kiss her through the fabric, enhaling her deep, musky scent. The twitch is barely noticeable, but it makes you quicken your pace, eagerly tugging her underwear down to reveal her thick shaft. You sit back on the balls of your feet to take in the sight of her sprawled on the chair, her legs spread and her cock standing proudly, waiting for your mouth to claim it.

Wednesday squeezes the back of your neck, asking, pleading, and you comply, taking the reddened head of her cock between your lips and sucking, enticing a low moan.

You grip her thighs with both hands and bury her shaft deep in your throat, blinking away the tears.

"Don't hurt yourself," she manages to whimper, her fingers painfully tight on your neck.

You hum around her, earning a low whine and start bobbing your head up and down. Her moans grow louder each time your nose buries in her dark hair, her hips snapping up to meet you halfway.

You can tell she's close.

"Just like that, tesorino," She cries out, and finally forces your face down, using you to pleasure herself. You gag around her thick length, swallowing precum.

She thrusts fast, blabbering in Italian as she chases her high. Her eyes roll to the back of her head with a final snap of her hips and she cums, her cock buried deep inside your throat.

You struggle to breath and swallow, pulling away from her and letting her paint your neck and breasts white.

You catch your breath, reveling in her reddened cheeks and heaving chest.

She lazily reaches behind her to rummage around one of the drawers and pulls out a box of wipes. She works slowly, tenderly brushing your skin clean. Then, she tugs on the string of your silk robe, her pupils blowing even wider when your naked body is finally revealed. She pats her thighs and you don't wate a second in straddling her. You pull her in a tender kiss, one full of love and promise.

She guides you up and nudges the tip of her cock against your entrance and you sink down, clenching around her length.

"Can you keep still for me?" She asks, her voice hoarse.

You nod, glancing at the mess of her desk. "How long will it take?" You ask, knowing full well you'd stay forever if that's what she wanted.

"Not long." With that she turns back around, places her chin on your shoulder and goes through the papers on her desk as you struggle not to whine, your pussy pulsing at the slightest nudge from the ravenette.

You relax against her when she finally settles, and burrow your face into her neck, smiling. She places occasional kisses to your temple, making sure not to jostle you too much.

She enjoys torture, but not when it comes to you.

Your eyes start to drop and you decide to busy yourself with undoing her braids, untangling from her to face her fully, the motion making you both swallow back a moan. Your fingers thread through the dark tresses with utmost care, massaging her shoulders on your way up and finally fully undoing her braids, letting her hair fall free.

She looks breathtaking.

"Bed?" She asks, and you realize you've been admiring her far longer than you thought. You nod, slumping against her.

She gets up without as much as a hitch to her breath, cupping your ass and pushing you snug against her, her dick rubbing inside you deliciously. You moan into her ear, urging her to move faster and she complies, gently laying you down on the bed not even five seconds later.

She cradles your face between her palms and peppers it with kisses as she starts moving inside you, setting up a pace. "Anima mia." A kiss on the underside of your jaw. "Luce della mia vita." A chaste kiss on your lips, as she fastens her thrusts. "Sei il mio tutto." She mutters, losing herself in your body.

You're too out of it to understand what she's saying, simply nodding to each statement and squeezing tighter around her with each foreign word. She stretches you, bottoming out in your gushing center. Her mouth busies itself on your breasts, paying enough attention to each hardened nub.

"Wednesday, I'm-" you cry out, pushing her head back down when she tries to look up, "Keep going please, please, please," you moan, letting tears spill free.

"Let go for me," she whispers, "now, cara mia."

You come with a loud cry, arching into her, squeezing her length as she releases inside you with a low whine.

"I love you," you pant as she falls on your chest.

She hums softly, her eyes growing heavier by second, and nuzzles deeper into you. "I love you," she mutters at last, before finally surrendering to sleep.

-------------------

Cara mia - my dear

Cuore mio - my heart

Mia amata - my love

Tesorino - sweetheart

Anima mia - my soul

Luce della mia vita - light of my life

Sei il mio tutto - you're my everything

Requested by 🧞‍♀️ anon

[madebycloud]

Melting

wednesday addams x fem!reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you went trick or treating with your girlfriend. warnings/themes: fluff, soft!wednesday (ooc eheh), halloween, trick-or-treating, making out words: 1.8k

'Tis the witching season! 

The whole neighborhood is in a festive mood, with ghouls and ghosts lurking around, kids dressed up as their favorite or the scariest characters. 

Now, there's someone who couldn't care less about all the hoopla. 

You know Wednesday doesn't like to be all sunshine and rainbows, but secretly, you've always wished she would let her guard down and have some fun. 

“It's overrated,” she scoffs. But if there's one thing that can sway her, it's you. 

The nostalgia. You missed those carefree days when your only worry was scoring as much candy as possible in one night. And now you have the perfect opportunity to go back to your child self and relive those memories. 

“Pleeeeeeaaaaase Wednesday,” you whine, dropping to your knees and clasping your hands in front of her. 

She doesn't bat an eye. She just continues to write, her fingers moving across the typewriter. 

“Please baby, please love, please,” you try again, pulling out all the stops—cute silly nicknames, puppy dog eyes that you know she secretly adores. “It'll be super fun.” 

Finally, she stops writing. She lifts her head and turns to face you. She pauses for a long moment, considering your plea. “Fine. But only on one condition,” she starts. “I know it's important to you—so I'll indulge your request. This is just a one-time thing. We won't be making this a habit.” 

“Just... once?” 

“Just once,” she repeats. 

You think for a moment. “...okay.” You nod. “But I'll choose the costume.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Fine, no funny business. Let's make this quick and clean, understood?” 

“Understood.” You grinned.

—

“Hey there, Mario!” you exclaim with an exaggerated Italian accent while waving your hands around, trying to mimic how he does it. “It's-a-me, Luigi, your lovable sidekick!” 

“It's-a-me, Luigi? I don't know which I hate more—my ridiculous costume or your ridiculous sense of humor.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at the garish plumber's costume she was forced to wear. She even had to wear a fake mustache. “I can't believe I let you convince me to wear this ridiculous costume.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the daggers she was sending your way. “Don't worry, no one will recognize you as Wednesday with this get-up.” You winked, but she was having none of it. “Besides, this is just a 'one-time' thing, right?”

She groaned inwardly. “Just make sure you carry this, you have a stronger arm.” With a huff, she hands you the pumpkin. “After all, you're the one who suggested this fiasco, so the least you could do is carry the stupid thing.”

Her hand snaked around your wrist, her grip was so tight you could feel it even through your gloves. 

You both made your way to Jericho, the streets were alive with kids in crazy costumes running around, laughing and shouting as they made their way to different houses. The streets are lined with jack-o'-lanterns and spider webs. 

Suddenly, you spot a house that looks amazing. There are a few children waiting outside, excitedly chattering as they anticipate a chance to fill their buckets with candy.

“Let's try that one,” you say, pointing to the house. “They look like they're giving out some good treats.”

Wednesday just nods and crosses her arms, not seeming interested in going with you to get candies. “I'll just stay here,” she insists.

“Are you sure?” you ask, pausing to look at her for a moment.

She simply nods, waiting for you to get your candies. You give her a quick smile and head towards the house. 

You ring the doorbell and wait for someone to answer. A woman with a warm smile opens the door.

“Trick or treat!” you say, holding your pumpkin out.

However, the woman looks at you with disdain. “Aren't you a little too old for this?”

The smile slips from your face as you realize what she means. But before you can say anything else, she closes the door in your face. You stand there, stunned, staring at the closed door. 

That was rude.

You returned to Wednesday, your shoulders slumping as you held up your empty pumpkin.

She looks at you with an eyebrow raised, as if to ask what happened.

You scratch the back of your neck and frown. She could almost see the smoke coming out of your ears. “She... she said I was too old for this.”

You can tell she's angry at the way you were treated, and you secretly hope she doesn't plan on getting back at the woman for her rudeness. She can't believe the audacity of that woman, as if there's an age limit for having fun.

Still, you don't let the incident put a damper on the rest of your night.

“It's fine, there's still a lot of houses we can try again,” you say, grabbing her arms and looking around for another house to approach.

But people keep telling you that you're too old for Halloween and refuse to give you candy.

Wednesday senses your disappointment and starts coming up with elaborate plans to avenge the people who have denied you treats. She seems determined to make them pay for their deeds, yet you keep trying to convince her to just move on and keep searching for sweets.

Just as you were about to give up, you came across a house with the porch light off, but you could hear giggling coming from inside. 

This time, Wednesday joins you in trick-or-treating.

Together, you knock on the door and a person in a ghost costume stands in the doorway, holding a bowl of candy. 

“Trick or treat,” you say, holding out your pumpkin for a sweet.

Wednesday's stare serves as a warning to the person not to disappoint you or suffer the consequences.

The man hesitates before finally grabbing a handful of candy from the bowl and thrusting it into your pumpkin, his hands shaking with fear.

You thank them, and Wednesday gives you a smile as you walk away. “See? Things aren't so bad after all.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes. “Let's just keep going,” she says, before pushing you forward towards the next house.

—

You were walking back from trick-or-treating, your pumpkin filled to the brim with sweets and goodies. 

“Let's go back,” Wednesday mumbled as she walked alongside you, still holding onto your hand. Her hand slipped into your biceps, yet she hardly even noticed.

You nod, prepared to return home. However, before you can leave, you hear a voice from behind you. 

“Wednesday Addams?!” the boy says in shock, recognizing her beneath the Mario costume. 

“Oh, for Christ's sake,” Wednesday muttered under her breath. She couldn't believe someone had recognized her in her stupid, ridiculous Mario costume. She could swear in her life that she's never felt so stupid.

You turned to see a boy dressed in a brightly colored insect costume, his antennae bobbing as he waved at both of you. “Hey Eugene!” 

Wednesday narrows her eyes. “What are you doing here, Eugene?”

“I came to get some candy!” He replied eagerly, his eyes sparkling, but then his eyes widened. “Wait... is that really you... Wednesday?” he asks, taking a step forward. 

Wednesday clenches her jaw and you stifle a laugh, amused by her reaction. You offer Eugene some candy from your pumpkin, and he excitedly accepts it, thanking you.

“Eugene, can you take a picture of us?” you request, handing him your phone. 

Wednesday snapped her head in your direction, her eyebrows furrowed as she glared at you. She's just about lost it. She swore in her mind that she would never take a picture wearing this ridiculous costume.

You flung your arm around her and gave a peace sign as Eugene held up your phone. You chuckle and give Wednesday's waist a reassuring squeeze.

“Three, two...”

Wednesday knows she will be miserable. But she looked at your smile and realized that, despite her aversion to the costume, she didn't want to ruin your fun. So she reluctantly struck a peace sign, hoping that no one would recognize her under that ridiculous mustache.

“One!” the flash flickers, and the photo is captured. 

She couldn't deny the warmth in her chest as she watched the picture saved to your phone.

—

You realized that your feet were starting to feel tired after walking so much. Eager to rest your tired legs, the two of you made your way over to a nearby bench, tucked away amidst the shadows of the trees. 

Wednesday is now holding the pumpkin-shaped basket full of sweets while you gaze up at the stars in the sky. She eventually pulled out one of the candies and popped it into her mouth.

“Taste good?” You turn to look at her. 

“Tastes like poison,” she teases before popping it into her mouth.

You can't help but stare at her lips. Why did her lips look like they were begging to be kissed?

“Do you want one?” Wednesday asks, seemingly reading your thoughts. 

You were almost too stunned to speak, but a soft “yes” managed to escape your lips. 

Small smile formed on her lips, as though she knew exactly what she was doing. She offered the candy before you swallowed it whole, savoring the sweetness on your tongue. 

A glance at her lips and then back at her eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Before you knew it, Wednesday had leaned in to share the sweet with you, her lips soft and supple on yours, the taste of candy still lingering on your tongue.

When you finally pulled away, you were left weak in the knees and breathless.

Wednesday's lips part slightly, her breath brushing against your cheek. You lean in again, but she stops you with a gentle hand on your chest.

“One condition,” she whispers.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“I get to choose the costume next year.”

“We're going to trick or treat again next year?” you ask, grinning. “Fine,” you concede, “your choice of costume next year then.”

With Wednesday's permission granted, you lean in for another kiss, this time lingering even longer than before. Your lips lock together in a sensual dance. 

But you pull away, teasing her. “Wait.”

“What now?”

“Well, I was thinking we could dress up as Remy and his human companion, Alfredo from Ratatouille.”

Wednesday's eyes narrow, clearly annoyed at your choice.

“Okay, I admit, that was a terrible idea, but what about SpongeBob and Patrick? or I can go as Squidward, and we can be rivals instead,” you suggest, desperate to find a costume she'll actually like.

She rolls her eyes, but you could already see the corner of her lips twitching up into a small smile. “You did not just suggest that.”

“Oh yes I did.”

“I'm not dressing up as a rat with a chef's hat next year, that's for sure. And you're not going to make me dress up as a sponge either.”

You smirk. “Maybe not, but I'll still find a way to make you dress up as something ridi—”

Before you finish your sentence, Wednesday's lips are on yours once more, drowning out your words. Her fingers glide down your jaw as she draws you in closer.

“That's it,” she whispers between kisses. “You're stuck with me now.”

And you wouldn't want it any other way.

note: me

[ghu-leh]

Some Cardinal Copia Headcanons (because I ;;♡)

Has a pocket watch at all times. Likes to keep track of time in a way that's almost compulsive.

He is the first point of contact for any new siblings that join the ministry, since he is in charge of all introductory tours to the abbey.

He also shares the responsibility of teaching Latin and Italian with other cardinals. He's somewhat strict so he likes for his students to be on time and has high expectations of all of them. Despite all of this, he's very beloved among his students. His goofiness brings a nice contrast that makes him endearing.

A big stickler for routines. Loves to-do lists and reminders. Organization comes easy for him during his Cardinal days, which completely goes out of the window once he becomes Papa.

He simultaneously has beautiful calligraphy AND doctor chicken scratches... both of them undecipherable. Due to this, the higher clergy has forced requested for the Cardinal to typewrite all his paperwork, notes and letters. It is normal to find him hunched over his typewriter until the late hours of the night, mumbling to himself in annoyance.

Poor little darling deals with seasonal allergies often. "Ugh cazzo! goddamn pollen..." He mutters, pulling out his handkerchief yet again. They are the bane of his existence.

He's one of those loud sneezers. The type of sneeze that makes the earth rumble, and the eardrums ring; so whenever he lets one out, he can be heard almost all over the ministry, echoing through the halls. At least is cute to see him walking around with a reddened nose.

He deals with generalized anxiety, so he gets startled easily and is on edge often. Because of this, he is quite fidgety with his hands. He also shakes and bounces his leg a lot while doing long tasks.

The type of person to squint when he's reading something with a particular tiny font. His eyesight is not as great as it once was when younger, so he also carries his glasses with him at all times - old fashioned small glasses that get the job done. And yet, even if he now sees clearly, he still squints while reading the tiny font.

[keeksandgigz]

Chapter 2: Au coeur des ténèbres

Part 2 of Words are Futile Devices- A Steddie x Reader Call Me By Your Name AU

Summary: As some weird feelings come to light, you begin questioning your initial opinion of your two guests

cw: some suggestive content, reader's vivid smutty imagination. reader is a bit less of a cunt, brief description of insecurities (nothing too detailed), slut shaming if you squint, kissing, a lot of internal angst, overall a lot of words I'm sorry

word count: 3k

author's notes: I'm so sorry for the wait, but its here!!!

Heart of Darkness laid in your lap as you sat in your father’s study. Eddie typed away at his desk, while Steve looked at some old archeology dissertations from past students. You were often forced to sit in and listen to the guest’s nonsensical jumble of words and phrases in an attempt to sound smart. 

You had been scolded by your father twice for trying to interact with Eddie, who seemed laser- focused on the parchment in front of him, the metallic clicking of the keys of the typewriter in the faint background of the stuffy old study. Giovanna had come by twice with a pitcher full of apricot juice from the garden, which the two had gulped down without giving much thought. You saw the way the juice dribbled down Eddie’s chin, how he lifted his thumb to clean off the mess, then wiped his finger on his black cutoff shirt and proceeded to continue typing. His fingers flexed and tensed in between typing, thick and sturdy as he stretched and massaged the palm of his hand with his ringed fingers. 

Steve sat on the dark green couch, legs spread, his shorts riding up, up, up bunching at the crease between his thighs and his groin. One of his legs bounced as he reviewed case studies, artifact pictures, lip trapped in between his pearly teeth. 

There wasn’t a whisper of a breeze, or a draft, but you shivered nonetheless. The two could’ve been patronizing and condescending, but that didn’t take away from the fact that you saw the way their skin, not yet tan from the sunlight, rippled with sweat at each whisper of a movement in the stuffy study. Steve’s leg bounced as he studied the pictures projected on the walls, his already short shorts riding up with each jump of his leg, exposing more and more of his thigh, you blushed. 

This charged silence broke once Steve opened his mouth. He held up another glass full of apricot juice. 

“What’s apricot in Italian again?” he asked, wiping remnants of juice from his chin. 

“Albicocca” your father said, smiling. He went on a rant about the etymology of the word, which you really couldn’t care about. A fun little rehearsed bit he did every year, the students’ impressed faces beamed up the stuffy study. 

“If I can beg your pardon, what you said is slightly wrong” it was Eddie. Surprise tinged your face in hearing him speak up. In the two days that you’ve known him his vocabulary was littered with grateful praises and quiet musings, here it had a slight tinge of pride. 

“It’s uh— actually the Greek etymology for apricot comes from Latin. It’s praecoquum, then praecox, then precokia and then we get the Arab al- barquq— albicocca” he mused in a butchered italian, but all you could hear in his observations is just cock, cock, cock. He sounded nervous delivering his lecture, almost as if he was scared of getting kicked out for defying an authority of mind like your father.

Instead, he looked at him with an impressed smile, and Eddie blushed a bit. Steve delivered a friendly pat on the boy’s shoulder.

Not as lucky as many. 

Later that day, when Steve stole your friends for a volleyball game on your lawn, you watched his sweaty body, clad in a blue swimsuit, shoulders flexing and shining in the early afternoon sunlight jump up and duck down along with the worn ball that keeps jumping between both sides of the net. 

Eddie sat on the lawn, in the shade. His pearly complexion having acquired just the most undetectable sheen of red that threw the boy in a panicked frenzy earlier that morning. He was sorting through loose pages of what appears to be his manuscript. 

“Why aren’t you playing instead of staring at me?” his head perked up from the typed up pages, and you could feel yourself heat up. Not even the sun could hide the tinge of pink that colored your cheeks. 

“I could say the same thing about you” you stammered out, snippy and embarrassed. 

All he could do was chuckle as he motioned his papers towards the book you had ignored sitting in your lap. “I like that book. Heart of Darkness? One of the few books I actually liked when I was in English Lit in high school” he smiled. A smile that seemed genuine, much different than the courteous smiles he had reserved for your mom and dad. 

“And that was when the dinosaurs still roamed the Earth?” you curled your nose. 

A sardonic laugh escaped the boy. 

“Very funny. And how old are you again?” he scooted his butt closer to you, his loose papers now forgotten on the lawn. The proximity made you a bit nervous. 

“Twnety-one” you breathed out “I wouldn’t give you any less than fifty- six” you nudged his shoulder and he laughed. 

“Shouldn’t you be at some snooty college party right now? I dunno, traveling the world with some sorority sister?”

“And miss this gorgeous sight to behold?” your tone dripped of sarcasm as you pointed at Steve, mid jump into grabbing the ball.

Right as you said that Steve missed, ending up on the grass, a pained moan followed. Eddie isn’t given any time to answer you, stopping in his tracks and to run and pick up his friend to escort him where you were. You couldn’t care less about the physical ineptitude of your guest— if there wasn’t any blood or bones sticking out it wasn’t worth worrying. 

“Pass me some water, please?” asked Eddie.. You complied, rolling your eyes as he began kneading the injured boy’s shoulder. He hissed at the first swipes of the long- haired boy’s hands— big and firm. You let down a short swallow. 

“Steve you’re tight— you stressed?” Eddie asked, squeezing the juncture between the boy’s neck and shoulder. 

“I’m fine Ed” he smiled up at the boy, but instead of moving, Eddie dug his fingers deeper into the golden flesh of the honey- eyed boy. 

“Here, feel” he grabbed your hand and placed it on Steve’s warm shoulder— firm and freckled, still wet with sweat. “Isn’t he a bit tight?” Much to your shock you retreated your hand, but the feeling of the smoothness of his tan skin seemed to be encased in the fiber of the palm of your hand. 

“Yeah, I guess” you muttered, going back to Heart of Darkness. 

Dissatisfied with your curt and cold response, Eddie had your friend Chiara feel the back of the injured boy, whose fingers seemed to linger along Steve’s back for long, almost mapping every mole and mark to store in her mind for later. She was an artist, and an artist’s eye was never wrong. 

Steve smiled at the girl, and in return she giggled. Once she left you closed the book in your lap once again. 

“Careful, she’s gonna try to draw you naked” you teased Steve, whose eyes seemed to be glued on the way your friend scampered around the lawn. 

“Like I’m complaining” he retorted with a cheeky smile, and that made you feel weird. 

What did she have that you didn’t? Why didn’t he look at you like that?

You cursed the way you seemed to act too much like a grown up, the way you took yourself too seriously to even participate in a dumb volleyball game. 

Maybe you should’ve played. 

Taking your towel and your book with you, you made your way back into the house, almost stomping in protest, at the way the honey- eyed boy didn’t seem to spare you a cheeky smile or a wandering eye. Didn’t matter that they both seemed like two idiots who only cared about getting the experience from your father’s expertise, exploiting and squeezing the knowledge out of the overripe peach of his brain, which seemed to become less and less awake with every year that passed. 

You disliked the way that Steve seemed to want to make a pass at each and every one of your friends, and them letting him. With his rude and pushy American ways of wanting to make everything his, his property, his Don John-ish manners that made him expect something from everyone he came into contact with. 

You hated Eddie’s arrogance in his surveying and picking your brain, making the six year difference between you two seem like a chasm, with his snobbish knowledge of literally every book that sat on your bookcase. Fingers rubbing his stubbly, boyish chin as he examined each and every shelf, spine, title. He always seemed to have something to say with you, wanting to prove himself to the whole world, confirm that he wasn’t just some trailer trash who had finally made it out of the few acres of overpopulated land. You could not remotely fathom how those two were so close together, coming from such different backgrounds. 

However, as you tried to silently beg for Steve and Eddie’s attention, that was seemingly anywhere else but on you, like an old, neglected dog, you seemed to realize that, in some twisted sort of way, you wanted to fall victim to their charm. 

Like many of your friends did, much bolder, some older, and more confident than you had been, in the past years, not hesitating to pounce on your guests with hunger similar to a hyena. The hunger of a repressed teenage girl who had just reached adulthood, craving everything that came with it– even risque summer romances with men who had traveled around the sun for much longer than they had. Throwing their plump, glowing bodies on the dance floor around the sturdy necks of your father’s students. With every year that passed, you could not escape the vicious circle of your giggling friends, who competed over who would get to lure your guests into their greedy grasp first, and you’d all hear about it the morning after. 

You’d heard about gorgeous but incredibly incapable men, well- endowed, but short, much older and more experienced. There was something about their stories, the lightheartedness in their laughs, as if playing with these men’s hearts and minds had become a game, that made you feel like a different person. Coming home and contemplating on leaving the communicating bathroom door open, so that your guest could catch you sleeping on your stomach without any shorts on, or adjusting your swimsuit at the pool right as they passed by to read on the lawn. You never brought yourself to act upon these contemplations, too scared of what your father might have thought of you, and rather, delighting yourself in tormenting your guests as a way to cope with a feeling of inadequacy that seemed to swell with each year that passed.

Ever since Steve and Eddie had arrived– young, attractive, and most peculiar thing of all, there were two of them– your friends could not stop arguing about which boy would have fallen in the arms of your friends. Anna had gushed about seeing Steve’s dick through his tiny, blue swimming shorts earlier that day during a game of volleyball, escalating into a conversation that hours later could not seem to leave your mind, as you sat on one of the lawn chairs of the balcony. 

You had not entered your room, afraid your restlessness might have woken the two boys. Nursing a cigarette in between the intrusive thoughts of whether Anna was right. Had she already claimed her prize? A part of you stung at the thought that not even four days into their stay, your friends had already gotten their slimy hands on your guests. A different part had wanted it to be you to have received such attention from the honey- eyed boy. Would he have been attentive and careful? Or full of passion and bravado, much like how he’d presented himself to you since he’d arrived? 

“This seat taken?” Steve had startled you. The irony. 

You heard him let out a whiff of air, like a muted laugh “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He sat down on the wicker chair next to you, without waiting for your permission. He took in the still night air that had oftentimes brought you counsel, accompanied by the melody of the night cicadas. 

“Can’t sleep?” he mused, playing with the woven wicker on the arm of the chair. 

“Didn’t wanna wake you guys up” Your dry response was accompanied by a lazy drag off the half- finished cigarette. Steve reached an arm out in your direction, you took the hint. 

“I was downstairs finishing some work for your dad, the jet lag still keeps me up” you watched his lips wrap around the cigarettes, right where your mouth had been just seconds before. Your breath hitched at the realization as he let out the smoke from his mouth, slow and deliberate. 

“So, uh, you and Anna? I heard you guys had a thing going on” you passed him the ashtray on the small table next to you as he shook the ash off the cigarette and brought it back to his mouth. 

He shook his head, “She’s your friend?” he asked, sardonically, turning away from you to look into the distant trees. 

“Not really, rumors travel fast around here” you tried to keep your mouth shut, but something inside you just pushed you to intervene, to let him know that she was certainly not good for him. “And she also has a reputation,” you added, gulping. 

He put out the cigarette in the ashtray, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and sat back on the wicker seat “Is that so?” A smirk adorned his face, almost as if he didn’t believe a word you were saying. 

You nodded, heating up a bit at the way his legs spread and his shorts rode up his legs “She gets around” You avoided his gaze, looking at Giovanna downstairs in the garden, finishing up her last chores for the night. 

“Never stopped me before” he retorted, shrugging. The sour look on your face only made his sly smile slice his face further. 

“By the way your nose is curled up I’d say you’re jealous” he laughed, standing up. You heated up at the– very correct and very obvious– observation. 

“I am not” you retorted, maybe a little bit more upset than you should’ve been at his dig, standing up abruptly.

“What is it then?” he inched closer to you. You could smell the remnants of the cigarette on his breath. You felt your eyes widen and your throat close up “You’re envious of your friends getting more attention than you? Am I supposed to feel bad for you because you feel inferior to them? Maybe if you stopped being a bitch to everyone that crossed your path you’d get laid too” With each stinging sentence the boy got closer and closer to you, his chest almost touching yours, and with each dig you swelled up with anger. Why was he treating you like this all of a sudden? 

Deserved? Sure. You had been nothing but a raging cunt to him since his arrival, but his words seemed to intend to cut deeper than that. 

However, instead of hurting you, his words only revved you even further, wanting most of all, to shut up his nonsensical attack against you. 

You watched his heated expression as he stopped his ranting, leaning on the railing of your balcony. 

“Well? Nothing to say for yourself?” he muttered, his voice much lower than his previous scolding. You couldn’t say anything, inside you were fighting demons you had only heard of from your friends. You were panting as if you had run a marathon, but to him, you were just a child throwing a tantrum. 

He scoffed “Y’know what? Grow up” he laughed, before motioning to turn around. Something in your chest pulled you towards him. The need to become more like your friends, that had lied dormant as you had awaited to provocatively lure your guests into your room, had been nudged. 

As Steve walked away heatedly, closing the door to his room, you imagined grabbing his shoulder with strength you didn’t know you had and spin him around before crashing his lips onto his. 

Kissing him with a hunger that was only for you to satiate. Needing to feel yourself bloom out of a cage that you’d put yourself in because you took yourself too seriously. You imagined exploring his sturdy, tanned body. 

As you got ready for bed, peeking your face into your guests’ room, where Steve had fallen asleep without changing out of his clothes. You imagined slipping your hands under his billowy shirt, as his hands gripped your waist so tightly that his fingers could have left marks in their wake. Slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, feel the softness of the skin underneath, scratching it with his fingernails. 

You thought about intentionally upsetting him, just to have him that close to you again. You thought about his reaction to your tongue making its way into his mouth, licking and tasting his lips, his gums, his tongue. Wanting him to have access to you, to look at you. To peek his head into your room to find you asleep on your stomach, wanting him to see your scrunched up face as you transcribed your music, leaning against a tree as you read. Swimming with your friends, but only staring at you, at the way the water would drip off your body, at the way you would look while suntanning. 

A devious thought pervaded you as you imagined both of your guests fighting to have you. Fighting to look at you. Fighting for your attention. 

You laid in bed, drunk on the vivid images of your body undulating in between the two boys, heated and needy like you’d never been before.

Thank you for reading!! Feedback is much appreciated <3

tagging: @littlexdeaths, @strangerstilinski, @aphrogeneias, @usergeta, @rebelfell, @ali-r3n, @thornsnvultures , @jamdoughnutmagician , @take-everything-you-can, @aol19 , @eddiesghxst , @myspacebrat , @xxbimbobunnyxx , @cryingglightningg , @lavendermunson , @freak-of-hawkins , @eddiesdaydream , @sidereustales

[xflixer7]

all of my yellowjacket headcannons (so far)

word count is like a trillion ok i’m not counting all of this

hi it’s been 8 months i finally counted (1865 words)

lottie

she/her transfem! lesbian bottom (i wanna eat her whole)

-schizophrenic

-definitely has some type of ocd

-ptsd

-autistic because i say so

started playing soccer when she was little

will actually go insane is you steal any of her clothes if you look at her she will actually be drooling with heart eyes

plays piano

also knows violin because her parents made her take it doesn’t play is anymore though

lottie isn’t jealous but very protective

her favorite (modern!) singers are

-phoebe bridgers

-clairo

-#1 laufey fan on the world

-fiona apple

unironically knows every katy perry song by heart because she used to be her favorite when she was little

her room is huge

likes putting her hair in pigtails

golden retriever girlfriend she’s so sweet ugh and loves to spend time and money on her person you always staying at her house would literally kiss the ground the person she is dating walker on if they asked her too:((

also the worst cooker you ever met like how did you fuck up toast why is the smoke alarm going off??

favorite color is blue

lottie definitely has a hairstylist she goes too every month to get permed and there really close i can see her telling them about ALL the school drama

lottie wants write story’s when she’s older maybe romance or mystery idk but i can just imagine her having a typewriter and writing you story’s she has wanted to do it since she was a kid and is very passionate about it:((

what i think her favorite shows are:desperate housewives,american horror story,sailer moon

so scared of horror movie like she will start crying

her favorite characters are:

-emily (corpse bride)

-bree (desperate housewives)

-starfire (teen titans)

always goes on and on about how she’s bubblegum and your marceline she LOVES adventure time

her favorite movie is bridge to terabithia

lotties favorite animal is a bunny and she really wants a pet bunny

BEGS you to give her your bra and your confused but you give it too her and she makes a bracelet out of it and wears it practically every day proudly

also think that lottie is a great artist? like sketching and painting wise

nat

SAY IT WITH ME transmasc! (he/they) definitely bi because i say so

-depressed

-dyslexic

-ptsd

started playing soccer in middle school

LOVES christmas like has an unhealthy obsession with it (tries to act like he doesn’t)

northern italian knows the language pretty well also a great cook

wants to play electric guitar

his favorite (modern!) singers are

-tyler the creator

-radiohead

-alex g

-hole

-is so obsessed with mistki don’t even get me started

randomly painted his room black one day when he was bored

usually prefers his hair down

you give him haircuts he doesn’t trust anyone else someone definitely fucked up his hair once and he never went back

his favorite color is black or gray

just wants to be famous tbh but he wants to be in a band

what i think his favorite shows are:rick and morty,bojack horseman,shameless

LOVES horror movies and reality tv like 90 day fiancé and the kardashions (his guilty pleasure)

also likes claymation

his favorite characters are

-ash (fantastic mr fox)

-alyssa (the end of the fucking world)

-coraline (coraline)

his favorite movie is little miss sunshine

nat’s favorite animal is a panther he saw one in the jungle book when he was little and just thought it looked cool

always headcannoing characters as trans like finn from adventure time or jeff from clarence he’s so cute:((

nat skateboards too definitely not great at it but does it when he’s bored

jackie

(she/her) jackie is just a bratty pillow princess lesbian you can’t fool me

-adhd asf

-neurodivergent for sure

-ptsd

started playing soccer because she was bored eighth grade tbh i don’t think she likes it as much as the others but she thinks it’s fun

chronic hoodie stealer

this girl is a vegetarian for sure

jackie is jealous always period

her gay ass button ups bro

her favorite (modern!) singers are

-ariana grande her fav

-rihanna

-billie eilish

-harry styles

-lana del ray

pretty mainstream music taste

all pink room it’s very like coquette?

ponytail girl but also enjoys her hair down

favorite color is light pink duh

wants to be a makeup guru or just stay at home honestly she hates working

what i think her favorite shows are:euphoria, grays anatomy,glee,vampire diaries

i think she likes very drama files shows and will rant about tv show characters and there dynamics and why she think that there like that and etc for HOURS

ughhh jackie is such a girls girl like she is the friend who always has your back and has gum or a tampon for you she is the friend who would check you on your period

her favorite characters are:

-maddy (euphoria)

-regina (mean girls)

-winnie the pooh (she thinks he’s cute)

her favorite movie is DEFINITELY jennifer’s body

jackie is a cat lover and has 2 i can see her with a orange and a gray cat and they always fight

shauna

DEFINITELY bi (she/her)

-bipolar

-ptsd

joined soccer with jackie in eighth grade

has like thousands of boxers

russian

knows how to play saxophone (she doesn’t even know how she learned she just did) she doesn’t own one though

so jealous but never says anything (this girl cannot communicate to save her life)

her favorite (modern!) singers are

-the cranberries

was so mad when they got popular on tiktok and had to let everyone know they where her fav since day 1 (everyone knew)

-suki waterhouse

-cigarettes after sex

-never got over halsey since 2017

-the smiths

(a TRUE music lover over here)

she honestly doesn’t care how her room looks but it’s never clean

doesn’t do anything with her hair really

dark green is her favorite color

shauna’s hair may seem simple but she’s VERY picky about how it’s cut and is always worried there gonna cut it bad so she gets it cut like twice a year(she always ends up hating it)

she wants to be some sort of doctorate she’s fascinated by the human body so i can see her wanting to be a surgeon

what i think her favorite shows are:good girls, queens gambit,13 reasons why

her favorite characters are:

-velma (chicago)

-cassie (euphoria)oh the parallels…

-amy (gone girl)

her favorite movie is chicago (loves musicals)

a simple gal she really likes dogs

taissa

she/her lesbian

-anxiety

-ptsd

joined soccer in fifth grade

mixed (duh)

used to be in the marching band

her favorite (modern!) singers are

-frank ocean

-post malone

-has a soft spot for shawn mendas has all of his albums

-really enjoys 60’s music so she really likes the beetles

her room is pretty big too not huge on decorating

doesn’t care about hair like at all will wear a headband sometimes

a good girlfriend like if your cold she will give you her jacket type she has a temper never jealous either girlfriend material she’s the type you would want your kid to date y’know?

respectful to adults gets good grades and stuff

her favorite color is like a pearlescent white and everyone is like what the hell is that (she is trying to be different this is one of my favorite colors😿)

cuts her own hair thinks it’s overpriced and dumb to have someone professionally do it

tai wants to be something important like president or some shit i can see her being a lawyer

what i think her favorite shows are:the umbrella academy,big mouth,skins

tai only watches skins and euphoria type shows because she loves the drama

her favorite characters:

-hermoine (harry potter)

-patrick (perks of being a wallflower)

-nadine (edge of seventeen)

her favorite movie is the 6th harry potter movie she also thinks it’s the most underrated

she likes tigers

van

she/her and lesbian duh

-ptsd

joined soccer kinda randomly in seventh grade

irish

plays the trumpet but is kinda embarrassed by it

her favorite (modern!) singers are

-bruno mars

-tori amos

-girl in red duh

-david bowie

-was ziggy stardust for halloween when she was 8

can’t convince me her room is not painted red

doesn’t care about hair either puts in a ponytail to keep it out of her face

is a great girlfriend all the same traits as taissa except not the best at school she’s honestly surprised she graduated

favorite color is red

her uncle cuts her hair for like five bucks out of his garage also i definitely think she used to have a bowl cut when she was little

doesn’t really care about money she just wants to be happy wants to own a record store or be a professional soccer player

speaking of records she definitely has a lot of collections like lowkey a hoarder…but her stuff is cool though! like funky pops hot wheels cd’s records etc

what i think her favorite shows are:beavis and butthead, avatar, south park

mostly likes adult animation

her favorite characters are:-harley (suicide squad)-ron (harry potter)-beast boy (teen titans)

her favorite movie is the bee movie or lego batman there cinematic masterpieces

van likes pigeons for not particular reason she just thinks there funny looking

i can see van as a surfer too like her dad definitely is one also i can imagine her being really close with her dad and they have a local family business bakery:((

misty

she/her and idk her sexually like i genuinely have no idea

-autistic

-ptsd

always wanted to be on the team but knew she was bad at sports

german definitely

her favorite (modern!) singers are

-any female kpop band

-justin bieber

-pink-

melanie martenz is her favorite forever

light purple room has justin bieber posters everywhere

lowkey forgets she has hair whenever people comment on it she’s like “oh yeah!”

very obsessive of you and loves you almost too much sometimes you think it’s creepy but than your like “awww she’s so cute”

likes the color yellow

her favorite colors are brown and orange (there her favorite because she feels bad everyone calls them ugly)

i can see her being a k-pop stan too

(her bias in bts is j-hope)

also is a famous editer on tiktok and no one knows😭her username is like “gxxbflix” or some shit

literally has had one haircut in her life like it never grows?

i see her as a pharmacist

what i think her favorite shows are:walking dead,mlp,monster high

has SO many online friends

definitely loves romance anime

she’s in like every fandom ever because she wants to have online friends and be included on discord😭

plays clarinet

is in band

favorite characters:

-cruella (cruella)-alice (alice in wonderland)-edward (edward sciccor hands)

and mistys favorite movie is alice through the looking glass (because it shows the queen of hearts back story and misty loves her)

and misty likes birds duh

those are my headcannons for them i know it’s a lot but i’m obsessed ok send requests if you have any please

-🙈

[dudeshusband]

i find it funny that dean just started saying inappropriate shit in italian on his show and only the italians could call in to be upset about it.

[mads-nixon]

Meine Liebe

Dick Winters x Translator!Reader

Masterlist

Request: @flowers-and-fichte Hey! Thanks for the Chuckler headcanons! They're so cute! I've got another request :) it's BoB-related this time. Winters with a reader who is fluent in German and teaches him to speak it. And then one day he surprises her by speaking it (wedding proposal, just starts talking in it out of nowhere, whatever) to her and it's so freaking cute. Thanks! Take your time :)

A/N: i loved this concept!! thanks for the request! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: none!

When (y/n) first signed up to be an intelligence translator for the Airborne, she had no idea what was in store for her. Jumping out of planes was expected, but what she couldn’t have expected was a red-headed man named Dick Winters. Nix introduced them in Aldbourne when she joined the company, and something about the Pennsylvanian struck her differently than the other men she’d met. Most eyed her warily, but the man she met that day flashed her a kind smile and a firm handshake, sending an unexpected warmth through her. 

“So you’re our new interpreter,” he stated, his polite eyes never leaving hers as he shook her hand.

(Y/n) nodded, her lips quirking into a grin. “Yes, sir. (Y/n) (y/l/n).

“Dick Winters,” he replied, releasing her hand after a few moments. “Welcome to Easy. Please let me know if you need anything.”

Before she could respond, Nix called out to her. “We’ve gotta get to battalion, come on.”

With a final nod to Winters, she saluted and turned on her heel, walking over to Lew who was sitting in the driver's seat of a jeep. “So, you met Dick,” he announced, shifting the jeep into drive. “Whatcha think?”

(Y/n) scoffed lightly as she gazed at the rows and rows of tents that lined the airfield. “I only spoke like two sentences to him, Lew.”

Luckily, Lew and (y/n) grew up in neighboring towns in New Jersey and knew each other through mutual friends. Everyone knew the Nixons for their nitration plant that was in Edison, but (y/n) knew the Nixon boy as the teenager who took her best friend to the prom and got so drunk that he threw up on her beautiful blue dress. Betty still hadn’t gotten over it by the time (y/n) left for basic. 

“No sparks flying yet?” he grinned, elbowing her shoulder playfully as he drove. “Give it time. I know it will.”

“What is wrong with you, Lewis?” she asked, her voice tinged with frustration. “I just met the guy! And we’re going off to war for Pete's sake, not some low-crawling pub where men are lined up to dance with me.”

Her job was to decode and translate intercepted German communications, as well as translate in the field and interrogate prisoners if need be. There were times when being the daughter of Austrian immigrants was awful, but other times, it came in handy. Without her parents teaching her their language, she wouldn’t be in her position in the Army. 

As the months passed in Aldbourne, (y/n) was swamped with intercepted communications, paperwork, and various intelligence reports. She rarely did anything other than work in her office, growing tiresome of the monotonous click-clack of the typewriter. What little time she did have outside the office was spent either visiting the Blue Boar with the other officers or quietly reading in the fields of wildflowers near her billet. 

The sun set perfectly on the lilies and colorful harebells, orchids, and cornflowers that were scattered among the grass. Any chance she got, she’d go lay out a blanket and get lost in the pages of “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,” escaping the war as the words came to life in her mind. Time seemed to blur as the months stretched on in Aldbourne. 

With the follies of the Italian campaign, the Allies knew they had to try a different approach. Nixon and (y/n) had talked about the possible landing locations and tactics, but no plan was in motion quite yet. This did not stop them from preparing for the possibility. Easy’s training got increasingly realistic the further they got into 1944. By early February, Dick, Harry, and the other platoon leaders were brought in on the intelligence officers’ speculations. A few weeks later, (y/n) was working in her office when she heard a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called, not looking up from her typewriter as she finished a translation.

The door creaked open, and in walked Dick who was wringing his hat between his hands, almost as if he was nervous. “Hi, (y/n). Sorry to disturb you.”

Hearing his voice, (y/n) looked up from the paper, a small smile forming as she took in his timid expression. “Hi, Dick. You’re not disturbing me,” she said, pointing to the large stack of papers on the corner of her desk. “These aren’t going anywhere.”

Dick clasped his hands behind his back and walked closer to the desk. “I wanted to ask you a favor.”

(Y/n) nodded, gesturing for him to sit in the extra chair beside her desk.

Dick sat down and continued. “Would you be able to teach me some basic German? I know that you are fluent in it, so-”

“Of course!” She interrupted, excitement lighting up her features. “I’d love to!”

Dick seemed surprised as he sheepishly smiled at her from across the desk. “It would be useful to know some phrases when we finally get into combat.”

“I think it’s a great idea.”

From that cold February day on, the pair met every Saturday night in (y/n)’s billet. Her host family, the Bennets, insisted on making a big family dinner every time (as large as they could with rationing), treating Dick as one of their own. (Y/n) watched from across the dining room table as he spoke to Mr. Bennet with a polite smile. The golden light from the setting sun filtered through the open blinds, highlighting the soft brown freckles that adorned his face. (Y/n) couldn’t help but admire his handsome features, a thought that she’d kept hidden mainly to keep Nix off her trail about the supposed ‘sparks’ that were supposed to fly between them at some point. 

“I was worried about you Yanks, but if they’re all like you lot, I think we’re in good shape,” Mr. Bennet laughed, scooping a forkful of roast into his mouth. 

Dick chuckled breathily, his eyes flitting to the (y/h/c) across from him, catching her staring red-handed. “Thank you, sir,” he replied, his face warming under her gaze. 

After the dinner table was cleared, they continued their weekly tradition, sitting across from each other once again. “These are pretty basic, but they’re important,” she began, her eyes locking with his. Repeat after me. ‘Guten Abend.’”

Dick listened carefully, his eyes drifting down to her lips before echoing her pronunciation. “Guten Abend.”

“Very good,” (y/n) praised, her smile growing. “Now how about ‘Bitte’ which means ‘please,’ and ‘Danke,’ which means ‘thank you.’   

“Next, let’s learn ‘Wie geht es Ihnen?” (y/n) said, her voice taking on a reassuring tone. “It means ‘How are you?’

As they repeated the words together, her beloved language created a unique connection between them that she never thought possible. It felt good to speak the language in situations other than wartime intelligence. As she taught Dick, she fell in love with her family’s native tongue all over again, but that love wasn’t the only thing blossoming in the cozy dining room.

Under the shade of a sturdy tree in the Bennet’s backyard, the late afternoon sun cast a glow over the yard. (Y/n) and Dick sat side by side, leaning against the trunk as they took a short break from their lesson.

(Y/n’s eyes began to droop, fatigue creeping in like a silent intruder. The lines of exhaustion were etched beneath her eyes, and Dick couldn’t help but notice her weariness. 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently, leaning closer to her, his brow furrowed in concern.

She sat up straighter, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I’m just tired,” she admitted, her voice a soft murmur.

Dick turned to her with eyes filled with worry. “Up late doing translations?”

(Y/n) nodded, her shoulders sliming slightly. “Yes,” she sighed, leaning her head back against the hard tree bark. “We’re getting more and more communications every day. It’s hard to keep up.”

Seeing her struggle, Dick scooted closer to her and paused before gesturing to his lap. “Here,” he suggested, his tone gentle. “It’s more comfortable than a tree,”

A small, tired smile crossed (y/n)’s face as she responded with a weary, “Yes, sir,” She laid her head on his lap, peering up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. 

Dick felt a warm, protective swell of emotion as she nestled into his lap. Her presence, despite her exhaustion, brought a sense of peace and contentment he hadn’t realized he was missing. He could always show up at her door and have dinner like there wasn’t a war going on. Their routine had developed into what he looked forward to the most as the week went on. Any conversations they managed to have during their daily regimens and workload were filled with smiles and talks of the upcoming weekend, Saturday’s dinner menu, and other little things that reminded him of home. 

A soft pink tinge rose from Dick’s neck to his cheeks as he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Better?” he inquired, his voice a soothing, gentle rumble.

(Y/n) let out a contented sigh, her eyes fluttering closed as she whispered, “Yes, thank you, Dick. I needed this.”

He watched over her with a mix of concern and affection, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on her shoulder. “You’ll work yourself to death in that office, (y/n).”

She squinted one eye open, her gaze focused on him. “I know,” she replied quietly, her voice tinged with desperation, “I can’t rest knowing my family is still stuck there, Dick.”

The lieutenant’s eyes saddened, his heart aching at the raw pain in her voice. He moved his hand from her shoulder to rub her hair back gently. “In Austria?”

(Y/n) nodded, her voice hushed and heavy with emotion. “Yeah,” she murmured, blinking to combat the tears that were filling her eyes. “My grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins…they all stayed. They’re still there, and we haven’t heard from them in almost a year.”

“So you’re doing this for them.”

“For them and all the other innocent people whose lives have been torn apart by Hitler,” she confessed, her voice wavering.

A tear trickled down the side of her cheek, and she felt a warm hand wipe it away gently. “I’m sure they wouldn’t want you to run yourself into the ground, sweetheart,” Dick murmured softly, the term of endearment slipping out before he could stop it. “When we finally do see action, you won’t be a hundred percent if you’re constantly running on fumes.”

She let out a shuddering breath, her emotions overwhelming her. (Y/n) sat up, shifting to bury her face into Dick’s shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace. His arms encircled her, pulling her into his side as he rubbed his hand soothingly along her back.

“Please take care of yourself. If not for them, do it for me. Please,” he whispered into her hair.

As the evening sun bathed them in a warm light, (y/n) pulled back from their embrace, her tear-filled eyes glistening with gratitude and adoration. She gazed into Dick’s calming, emerald-green eyes, vulnerability seeping from her. His eyes mirrored her intensity, and a soft, affectionate smile played on his lips. With her heart pounding in her chest, (y/n) brought her hand up to his cheek, her fingers tracing the contours of his skin with a gentle, trembling touch.

Their eyes met, and in that silent exchange, a powerful connection was forged. Slowly and with a sense of natural ease, she pulled him closer, guiding him toward her. Dick, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected tenderness of her actions, felt the soft, deliberate pressure of (y/n)’s lips against his. Their lips met, and their connection deepened as their mouths moved together, a tender and affectionate expression of their feelings. Their kiss was a gentle exchange of affection, an unspoken testament to the emotions that had quietly grown between them.

As (y/n) and Dick pulled back from their tender kiss, their actions spoke volumes in the quiet of that moment. Their lips slowly parted, the sensation of their kiss still lingering in the air like a sweet, unspoken promise. They looked into each other’s eyes, their gazes locked in a lingering connection that was filled with understanding. (Y/n) inched back slightly, her touch soft and tender as her fingers gently brushed over the freckles on Dick’s cheek as she withdrew from their intimate embrace. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice a gentle murmur, sniffling slightly as she rested her forehead against his. Dick’s heart raced, and he could feel her warm breath on his face. 

“They’ll be proud of you. I’m sure of it.”

MAY 7, 1944: BERCHTESGADEN, AUSTRIA

(Y/n) reclined on a wooden, sun-soaked deck chair, gazing out at the breathtaking landscape of the Bavarian Alps that stretched before her. The mountains stood tall and majestic, their peaks kissing the cloudless sky. She felt a sense of awe at the natural wonder surrounding her.

Harry sat at the end of her chair, and Ron and Nix were sitting on the one beside them, all three drunk as a skunk. Their voices filled the air with drunken excitement, and their ramblings brought a wide smile to (y/n)’s face.

Nix groaned in good-humored frustration, raising his fingers in a futile attempt to count off the main leaders of the Nazi party. “Hitler, Hitler…no.”

Rolling his eyes, Ron chimed in, his voice louder as they spoke over each other, creating a chaotic atmosphere. “Hitler, Himmler, Goering-”

“And Goebbels,” Harry finished, his grin infectious as he completed the list.

(Y/n) couldn’t help but laugh heartily, tears gathering in her eyes as she watched her friends stumble through their banter. The joy of the moment, the beauty of the scenery, and the relief from no constant action and danger all combined to create a warmth in her heart that was impossible to contain.

“I’m so glad I get to see this,” she wheezed between fits of laughter, her hand clutching her stomach as another wave of cackles escaped her. 

The sound of footsteps made her turn, and she saw Dick approaching with Lip. She smiled at him, her heart beating slightly faster when he returned a wink. 

“Hey, Adolf! Love your Eagle’s Nest,” Harry yelled, standing up wobbly and grabbing Dick’s shoulders. “I hope you don’t mind. We made ourselves at home. Love what you’ve done with the place here.”

(Y/n) chortled again, earning an amused look from Dick, who found the whole situation hilarious. But he had more important news to share.

Welsh grabbed a bottle of champagne and held it out for the major. “Hey, have a drink. Come on. Just so we can say we saw you do it,” he implored, staring for a moment as Dick didn’t respond. 

Smirking, (y/n) rose from her chair and gracefully pushed the bottle back toward Harry as she moved to stand between him and Dick. “You drink it, Welshy.”

Welsh retracted his hand, standing there for a moment like a pouting child, while Dick, who had patiently waited, pulled out a sheet of paper. He cleared his throat and started to speak, his gaze warm as he looked down at (y/n) beside him. “Listen up. From Corps, it just came in. Effective immediately, all troops standing fast on present positions.”

Nix rested his hands behind his head as he lay on the chair with a smirk. “Standing fast.”

Ron, his usually sharp eyes now glazed over from the alcohol, looked up and asked. “What does that mean?”

(Y/n) ran a hand down her face with a giggle. Her laughter was infectious, and the group chuckled, with Dick’s laughter being the loudest. His smile was the widest she’d seen in months, and the sight stirred something within her. 

“Do you want to hear it?” he asked the group as he wrapped an arm around (y/n)’s shoulder. 

Harry nodded, grunting in reply, and Dick repeated the sound, raising an eyebrow at the man. “Are you ready for it? Listen up, the German Army surrendered.”

The news sent a sudden hush through the group, and the jovial atmosphere vanished, replaced by a solemn and reverent feeling that settled inside each of them. (Y/n) looked up at Dick, her eyes widened in disbelief.

“Really?” she whispered, her voice filled with hope.

Dick nodded and squeezed her shoulder softly. “Yeah, sweetheart. They did.”

In that instant, she couldn’t contain her joy. She flung her arms around his shoulders, squealing happily, and he snaked his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly. The weight of the past years seemed to lift, replaced by a hope of peace in Europe for people like her family who were caught in the crossfire of war. As they pulled back from their hug, the sheer happiness of the moment made (y/n)’s eyes glisten with tears. Around them, the other officers were clapping each other on the back and expressing their own gratitude that victory in Europe had been achieved.

With a soft smile, Dick placed a hand on her lower back and led her to a farther part of the balcony, giving them privacy from prying eyes. He could see the curiosity in her eyes and as they found a quiet corner, he spoke in a hushed tone. “I got word today, (y/n). About your family.”

Her eyes widened in anticipation, and her heart raced. “My family? Where are they? She asked, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and fear. 

Dick placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, offering her the support she needed to hear the news. “They’re alive, (y/n). They’re living in Salzburg.”

The emotion she’d swallowed down came flying back, and tears welled up in her eyes again as her voice trembled with relief. “Salzburg? Oh, thank God,” she croaked.

(Y/n) couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer, and the tears streamed down her face as she wrapped her arms around Dick, hugging him tightly once again. It was a cry of pure relief, a release of tension that had gripped her heart for so long. 

Dick held her close, his own emotions stirred by the moment. He could feel her relief, his arms wrapped around her as he gently stroked her back. The news also meant that they were one step closer to going home. One step closer to spending the rest of their lives together.  

In the midst of the moment, (y/n) looked up at Dick, a radiant smile breaking through her tears. Her soft voice was barely more than a whisper as she spoke. “I love you, Dick.”

Their eyes locked in a tender, unspoken understanding as Dick leaned down to cup her cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a tear. “I love you, too, (y/n).”

The mountains of Berchtesgaden stood as silent witnesses to what was about to transpire. It was the perfect setting for a moment they would cherish forever. As they stood there, Dick took (y/n)’s hand in his, his gaze unwavering as he looked deep into her eyes. With a smile, he began to speak…but it wasn’t English.

“Meine Liebe, du weißt, ich bin nicht der Beste im Umgang mit Worten, aber ich liebe dich mehr als das Leben selbst. Ohne dich hätte ich das nicht überstanden und ich möchte nie wieder ohne dich sein,” he began, his heart pounding in his ribcage.

My love, you know I'm not the best with words, but I love you more than I love life itself. I wouldn't have gotten through this without you, and I don’t want to be without you ever again.

(Y/n) looked at him, her eyes widening in surprise and joy. She blinked in disbelief, her heart skipping a beat.

“Willst du meine Frau werden?” Dick continued.

Will you marry me?

A gasp escaped (y/n)’s lips as tears continued to trickle down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe what was happening, and her heart swelled. Dick got down on one knee, his eyes filled with a softer determination than the one she saw in his eyes on the battlefield. He reached into his OD pocket and pulled out a small, elegant ring.

In a voice filled with emotion, he asked, “Möchtest du mein leben mit mir teilen?”

Will you share your life with me?

Tears streamed down (y/n)’s face as she nodded vigorously, unable to speak through her overwhelming joy. She held out her hand, and Dick slid the ring over her finger. It fit perfectly, just as they did in each other's lives.

With a smile that held all the love in the world, he whispered, “Ich liebe dich.”

I love you.

With the golden rays of the setting sun casting a warm, enchanting glow on the balcony, Dick stood up from one knee and pulled (y/n) into a gentle, affectionate embrace. The light from the setting sun illuminated their features, turning their silhouettes into a work of art against the breathtaking backdrop. Their kiss was tender and sweet, filled with the promise of a future together.

Their actions were delicate and filled with longing. Dick’s arms enveloped (y/n) as he kissed her, his fingers brushing softly against her cheek, and (y/n) responded with more fervor, deepening the kiss. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers clutching his uniform as if grounding herself in the reality of the moment. The hand on her cheek threaded into her hair and pulled her impossibly closer. 

With huge smiles on their faces, (y/n) and Dick pulled back from their kiss. The moment was perfect. However, their intimate moment was suddenly interrupted by a chorus of whistles and cheers coming from the adjacent balcony. Ron, Harry, Lip, and Nix watched on as the couple got engaged. They exchanged glances and held hands as they made their way toward the cheering men.

Nix hugged Dick and slapped him on the back, his expression a mix of humor and satisfaction. “Now if I remember correctly, some wise guy called this the first time you two met…oh wait, that was me.”

Dick’s brows furrowed in confusion, and he turned to his fiance for clarification. “What?”

Rolling her eyes playfully, (y/n) leaned into his side, patting his chest lightly. “Back in Aldbourne, Lew just thought that, and I quote, ‘sparks would fly’ between the two of us.

“Well, I’m so glad they did,” Harry laughed, holding up a wad of cash in front of him. “I’m a rich man now.”

The major blinked at Harry, his amusement evident. “How am I not surprised you bet on us?” 

“You think that’s all we bet on?” Ron slurred, sprawled out on a chair with his eyes closed. “We also bet on when-”

Thankfully, Lip stepped in to stop the Captain, who appeared to be thoroughly drunk. “Alright. Let’s get you to bed, sir.”

(Y/n) grinned, admiring Dick’s features above her. “Where did you learn all of that?” she asked. “Because I’ve never taught you anything that complex.”

“A man never tells his secrets,” he replied, kissing her temple lovingly.

“It was Liebgott, wasn’t it,” she chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him. “Cause only Joe knows that much German other than me.”

“Well,” Dick began, “There’s a lot more where that came from.”

“Oh really, Major Winters. Care to enlighten me?”

He sighed, “Nope. I’ve been practicing that for months. It’s all I’ve got.” 

“Then it’s a good thing you’ve got the best teacher by your side for the rest of your life, huh?”

Tag List: @liptonsbabe @footprintsinthesxnd @bucky32557038ww2 @flowers-and-fichte @merriell-allesandro-shelton @ronsparky

message or comment if you want to be added to the tag!

[bella-rose29]

The Greatest Thing - Lockwood x fem!reader

requested by anon: Hi, I love the way you write! I was wondering (if requests are still open) if you could write a Lockwood x reader where reader's mother died when she was little for some reason, and by taking on a case reader and Lockwood find themselves having to fight the ghost of reader's mother ? And maybe even Lockwood calming Reader down after the mission? Feel free to change parts. (btw: sorry if English is terrible, I'm Italian, English is not my native language)

my lovely you don't need to apologise for your English, it's better than a lot of actual English people I know (myself included) <333

sorry this took me so long, but hopefully you enjoy!!

for reference, the song that's mentioned is specifically Nat King Cole's version of Nature Boy from 1948 <3

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: swearing (only a lil), brief mentions of cancer (not explicit though), idk if there's anything else

I did just copy and paste the tag list from DTH part 9 so feel free to not read this if you don't want to! <3

It was nearly one in the morning when the telephone rang. 

This was odd, because the phone had been broken for a little over twenty years. 

It was more sentimental than anything else, and it was kept as a reminder of someone long gone, as was the typewriter that sat on the shelves next to the telephone, on top of the case it came in so that it could be admired. There was a record player too, although that was in perfect working condition, unlike the other two objects. 

The ringing of the telephone woke up the inhabitant of the bedroom, and he groggily rubbed at his eyes as he sat up and turned the light on. The glare made him wince, but when he realised the broken telephone on his shelf was ringing, his eyes shot wide open. He scrambled for the working phone on his bedside table, trying not to panic too much and failing as he punched in the numbers. The line rang three times before someone picked up, and his breathing was shaky. 

“Hello? I think there’s a ghost in my bedroom.”

~~~

“Lockwood? You awake?” Y/n pushed open the door to the library, making note of the dim light that shone under the door. Her voice was quiet, just in case he’d actually managed to fall asleep, but as soon as she stepped inside she saw him sat in his usual armchair with a book.

“Everything alright?” he asked. 

“Not really. Dad’s just phoned me.” She took the chair next to him, watching as he put a bookmark in place and held the book closed on his lap. 

“Ah, that’s who was calling.” He frowned. “You don’t sound too happy about it.”

“He thinks there’s a ghost in his room. Said the old telephone that Mum bought ages ago started ringing just now. He wants us to come and check it out as soon as we can.”

“How do we know it’s not just… someone calling?”

“It’s broken, Lockwood. Has been for ages. Pretty sure it was broken when Mum got it, but she thought it looked nice.”

“Right. Well… you know the house layout, and where things are. And if you’re not too tired… I suppose we could head over now? Only if you wanted. Your father is welcome to stay here if he wants, too.”

“Thank you, Lockwood. I don’t know that I’ll be able to sleep, not knowing Dad’s in danger. And he won’t want to go outside at this time of night anyway, not without a safe route to somewhere else. You sure you’re alright with going on a case now?”

“Of course I am, Y/n. Especially for you.” She tried not to flush too much at how sincerely he had said it and pushed out of the chair. 

“Okay then. I’ll just… go and get changed.” She was still in her pyjamas from earlier. Lockwood was, predictably, in a suit, just without the jacket and tie. She was certain they were a second skin on him now. 

“Meet me by the front door in ten? I’ll get the kit ready.”

“Sure. Don’t forget the biscuits like you did last time.”

~~~

It took five minutes of quietly moving around the attic so as not to wake Lucy for Y/n to get changed. She wasn’t entirely successful in being silent, since the floorboards creaked every two seconds and she fell over trying to get her jumper on because she got stuck inside it and didn’t see the corner of her bed, but somehow Lucy slept through it all. Y/n headed downstairs, wincing when the steps groaned under her weight, and went to find Lockwood in the basement. He was nearly done packing up the bags, and when he caught sight of her his smile was blinding. 

“You all ready to go?”

“Yeah, think so. I’ve been thinking, about what the Source could be?” she said, although her voice lifted at the end to make it sound more like she was asking him a question. Lockwood nodded, zipping up the second kit bag and handing it to her when she reached for it. “I feel like the phone is too obvious, but if it’s some sort of Poltergeist it might be a good idea to check anyway. There’s quite a lot of things that could be a Source, actually. Mum loved collecting old stuff, said it reminded her of her childhood.”

“She wasn’t an agent, was she?”

“No. No Talent. Not with a capital ‘t’ anyway. She was amazing at loads of other things though.” They were in the hallway now, grabbing their rapiers out of the stand. Lockwood shrugged on his coat. 

“What do you know about the history of the house? Any murders or deaths that could result in a Visitor?”

“No. There was Mum’s, but Dad got the place sorted out as soon as he could. DEPRAC came in and cleared the room.”

“Well, we’ll see what we can find, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” she said when he opened the front door and gestured for her to go first. Lockwood must have called a cab, because now there sat one just in front of the gate. “I told Dad to get into the kitchen and turn the table lamp on, ‘cause a couple years ago he got iron strips put in the floor, so he should be alright in there. We can get this taxi to wait for him and bring him here, right?”

“Of course. That was a smart move, both the iron strips and your suggestion. We’ll make the kitchen our main retreat, then.”

Ten minutes later they were pulling up outside her childhood home, and as soon as the taxi stopped Y/n was opening the door and rushing to greet her dad. Lockwood was talking to the driver, paying him for the journey they’d just taken and asking if he might stay a little longer to take a passenger back to 35 Portland Row. 

“Hi, Dad, you alright?” Y/n breathed, wrapping her arms around her father. 

“Been better, love. I’m glad you and your boyfriend are here though.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Dad,” she said, feeling heat creep up her neck. “Lockwood’s my boss.”

“I just thought that since you talk about him all the time, y’know? Lockwood this and Lockwood that.”

“I’m gonna walk away now, I think. Have fun with the ghost!” she joked, knowing that she would never leave her father in a house where there was a possible haunting. “We, uh… we thought it might be best if you went to Portland Row for tonight while we work here. It’s a standard procedure to not have the clients in the house, but normally they’ve got somewhere to go and a bit more notice, and Lockwood said you can take his bed if you wanted. We have also got a sofa, but it’s not nearly as comfortable as a bed.”

“Alright, love. You’ll be alright, just the two of you?”

“Yeah.”

“I take it he’s keeping that cab for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then. I’ll see you in the morning, love.” He must have known that she would ask him to leave the house because he reached behind him and picked up a bag, hoisting it over his shoulder and planting a quick kiss on her cheek. 

“Bye, Dad!”

She watched as he sent a small wave over his shoulder, shaking Lockwood by the hand and thanking him for the offer of a place to stay, and then he was getting in the taxi and going back the way that she and Lockwood had come from. 

Lockwood had the keys to the house in his hand, and before he unlocked the front door (her father had locked it when he’d seen the taxi approach) he turned back. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“I can do this, Lockwood. For my Dad. Besides, if something’s only just surfacing now from one of the antiques, it can’t be too bad can it? I mean, it didn’t hurt my dad.”

~~~

As it turned out, it was quite bad. 

Not in a holy-shit-this-ghost-will-kill-us way, but more in a holy-shit-why-does-this-house-feel-worse-than-a-graveyard-at-night? way. 

Y/n had grown up in this house, had only really moved out two years ago, and she had never once felt unsafe or uneasy. Walking around it now, though, doing initial readings of sensations and temperature, she wondered how her father had managed to stay positive. Most things she just got echoes of her own childhood, her laughter as she ran through the halls while her parents chased her when she was three, baking in the kitchen and licking the bowl when she was five, crying when she tripped and slid down the last couple of steps on the stairs and grazed her knee at the bottom, and her mother pressing kisses to her hair and a plaster to her tiny injury when she was six. But underneath it all there was a malaise, something unsettling that seeped into Y/n and Lockwood’s bones and made them cautious. 

“Does it normally feel like this?” he asked when they made it to the top of the stairs and around most of the rooms, one hand on his rapier hilt. They hadn’t drawn their weapons yet, but they knew it was only a matter of time. 

“No. Dad would have said something.” The thermometer beeped, alerting them of a drop in temperature. Lockwood checked it where it sat attached to his belt. 

“Minus two. It was three degrees just now.” They stood in silence on the landing, both looking at the thermometer. “Well, only one door left, I suppose. Do you want to do it or should I?”

“I’ll do it.” She made her way to the door of her parents’ bedroom and took a shaky breath before placing her hand on the doorknob. Immediately a rush of memories hit her, from when her parents first moved in after their marriage, to the day she was born in that room, to the countless times Y/n had crept in in the night because she’d had a bad dream, up to the point when her mother had last touched the handle. It went further, but the force of the memory of her mother made her push the door open and step over the threshold. 

Lockwood was right behind her, and she heard him draw in a breath and reach into his coat for his sunglasses. Y/n whipped around to look at him just as he pushed them over his eyes, catching the last of his squint while he warily studied the bed. “Why are you putting those on?”  she asked, not liking the wobble that accompanied it. 

“Death glow on the bed. Are…” he hesitated for a moment, and she imagined his eyes darting between her and the bed behind her. “Are you absolutely sure that your father got the house cleaned out?” His voice was soft, like he was trying to not agitate her too much, but she got defensive anyway. 

“Yes. He wouldn’t lie about something like that, not when he had a six year old living in a possibly haunted house!”

“But… and I’m not doubting you, or your father, I just need to know, were you here when the house got cleaned out after your mother passed?”

“No, Dad sent me to my friend’s house. He said it wouldn’t be good for us to be in the house while they were working.”

“So you never actually saw people cleaning out this place?” She froze, catching on to what Lockwood was getting at. 

“No,” she whispered, turning to look back at the bed. Her mother had died in it over ten years ago from untreated cancer, completely unexpectedly. She’d gone peacefully at least, in her sleep, but it had broken the two members of the family that had been left behind. Her father had told her that he’d call DEPRAC and get the house cleaned out, to keep the two of them safe, but now as she grabbed a hold of the doorknob again she realised there was no memory of people coming in to do that job. “Shit. Shit shit shit shit.”

“Hey,” Lockwood said, sunglasses still perched on his nose. “It’s alright. We’re agents, and we’re Lockwood and Co. I know… I know this won’t be easy, Y/n/n, but we can do this. You can do this. Just breathe in, and back out. Good. Right. Have a think: what in here could be the Source? Hey, focus, Y/n.” His tone grew a little harsher as he grabbed her shoulders, pulling her away from the door. 

“Why wouldn’t he clean the house?” Her breath was coming too quickly now, and her eyes couldn’t settle on any one thing. “Why, Lockwood? Why wouldn’t he do it?”

“Because sometimes we love someone too much to have them gone forever.” Her eyes finally stopped moving around, instead meeting his and making her draw in a breath at the vulnerability in his eyes. His voice had been rough with emotion, and immediately she thought of the door on the landing back at 35 Portland Row. As quickly as he had opened up, his walls had snapped back into place, and he was leaning back and smiling softly at her. “Let’s try not to focus on that too much, yeah? Maybe the phone?” As though he had summoned it, the old telephone on the shelf started ringing as soon as he finished talking. “Okay… that was weird.”

“It’s not even got wires attached to it,” Y/n breathed. 

“Visitor is definitely a Poltergeist then. There’s no apparition which is good, because no ghost-touch. That’s also bad though. No way of really knowing what the Source could be.” She tuned Lockwood out, knowing that he would just be talking himself through the situation they were in, and kept on staring at the telephone. It hadn’t stopped ringing. 

Music suddenly started blaring out of the record player, despite there not being any record to play. It was a song that Y/n recognised, although she couldn’t remember where from. 

“Is that… is that ‘Nature Boy’?” Lockwood asked, glancing incredulously at the record player. 

“Oh my god. Yeah. It was Mum’s favourite song, specifically this version.” Her mother would often be found with it playing on the record player in the study downstairs, and she’d told Y/n the story behind it a million times. She’d been adamant that Y/n never forget the words, and now as it played she knew it was her mother haunting this room. 

“I think it’s broken,” Lockwood said when the song skipped back to repeat the last section of the song. 

“The greatest thing…”

“No, it’s not. Maybe it’s the record player? Maybe that’s the Source?” The music stopped, and she knew she was wrong. “Okay… so the telephone is the Source?” At once the music started again, but from a different point. 

“But very wise…”

“Is… is your mother helping us?” 

“I think so.” 

“… Why?”

“Maybe she just wants to move on?”

“But very wise…”

“Okay this is freaking me out a little bit now,” she said, moving over to the telephone. It stopped ringing when she got close enough to reach out and touch it, and she glanced at Lockwood. “Silver net?” He wordlessly passed her one, his sunglasses still obscuring his eyes. His face was impassive and she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, but he was focused on the record player. It had continued playing from where her mother’s ghost had skipped back to help them, and was finishing up the last lines of the song. 

“The greatest thing… you’ll ever learn… is just to love… and be loved… in return…”

The room became silent after that, and both Lockwood and Y/n stood staring at the record player. Nothing moved until Y/n finally broke out of whatever world she had disappeared into, slowly placing the silver net over the telephone and wrapping it carefully. At once the temperature lifted, and just before she had finished containing the Source of her mother’s ghost she heard a sigh in the air, as though someone was finally being allowed some peace. 

“We should head over to the furnaces,” Lockwood finally said. “Unless you wanted to put it in a silver glass case?”

“I’ll talk to Dad about it in the morning.”

“Alright. Here, let me…” he stepped over and gently removed the telephone from her hands. “Why don’t you go and sort out the kitchen, get all our things together? I’ll get a taxi for us.” Y/n nodded, not taking her eyes off of the bundle in his arms. “Y/n?”

“Hmm?” She was unfocused, untethered to this world, and his voice was muffled. She vaguely noted Lockwood putting the Source down and coming closer to her, and then he was hugging her tightly, pressing her into his chest and his lips to her head when she drew in a shaky breath and sobbed. 

“It’s alright. It’s alright.”

She wasn’t sure how long they were there for, her crying into his dress shirt and him rubbing her back and whispering softly to her, but by the time she pulled back, her sobs reduced to slight hitches in her breath, her throat was sore and her eyes puffy. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Y/n.”

~~~

It was nearly three in the morning when the telephone rang. 

This wasn’t odd, because this time it was Lockwood phoning Portland Row to let them know that the ghost had been dealt with, and he and Y/n were coming back. 

Y/n had remained silent for the duration of the taxi ride back to 35 Portland Row, staring out the window with her eyes looking at something that Lockwood couldn’t see. He knew what it was like, to be in her position, but he had no idea how to comfort her other than just being here. She’d gripped him earlier, when they were hugging, like she thought he might be the next one to leave. It had broken his heart and made it swell at the same time that she had held him so tightly, but now he was left to wonder how else he might help. 

She was still silent when they walked through the front door. 

Her father came out of the living room to greet them, and Y/n had frozen, rapier mid-air while she went to put it away in the umbrella stand. Lockwood had put his own rapier away, and the sound made her snap out of whatever trance she had been in and finish her previous action before taking one last look at her father and running upstairs. Lockwood shrugged off his long coat, hanging it on the stand. 

“It was her mother,” he said, looking at the stairs instead of at the man he was talking to. “I think she’s upset that you lied to her, about clearing out the house.”

“I couldn’t-” he broke off, coughing slightly to clear his throat when emotion clogged it up. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“I know.” He could barely look at that door on the landing most of the time. He turned to face Y/n’s father. “But you made that house unsafe. You got lucky. She was a Poltergeist, but completely unaggressive like they normally are. Very lucky, in fact, because there was no chance of you being ghost-touched. But still, you should have told her.” The man nodded, tears starting to fall on his cheeks. 

“I suppose you put the Source in the furnaces then?”

“No, actually. I asked Y/n what she wanted to do, and she said she’d talk to you. You could keep it, so long as it was in a sealed silver glass box. You wouldn’t have to lose her again.”

“That would be great, thank you. Is it safe here overnight?”

“I’ll put it in the storeroom downstairs,” Lockwood smiled, one of his classic customer service smiles, and moved towards the kitchen. “Whereabouts did you decide to sleep in the end? The living room?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Well, goodnight, sir.”

“You’re a good lad, Mr. Lockwood. I can see why my Y/n likes you so much. Goodnight,” he waved, disappearing into the living room and closing the door behind him. Lockwood stood in the hallway, Source still wrapped in the silver net, and tried not to blush too much at the way those words had been said. 

~~~

“What are you doing in here?”

Y/n jumped at the sound of Lockwood’s voice, and immediately felt a little guilty for intruding on his personal space. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t want to wake Lucy up, ‘cause she hasn’t been sleeping well recently, so I came in here. Sorry.”

“That’s alright.” He went to grab his pyjamas, then did a double-take. “Is that my shirt?”

“Oh.” She looked down and flushed. “I didn’t… I forgot that by not going up to the attic I wouldn’t have anything to sleep in, so… yeah.”

“Oh.” 

She wished he would say more, because his gaze was as heavy as the silence that settled over them after that single syllable. 

“Lockwood?”

A pause. “Yeah?”

“I can leave-”

“No!” He swallowed thickly, then repeated himself. “No. I mean, no point waking Lucy up, is there? I’ll be back in a bit, just… going to go get changed.” She watched him leave, and then five minutes later she watched him come back. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” he answered, sounding anything but. He looked… nervous? Why the hell was he nervous? “You?”

“I’m alright.” She tried not to laugh, settling for an amused smile instead, and waited for him to get into bed next to her and turn off the light. Once it was dark (or as dark as it could be with the ghost lamp outside the window), she heard him shuffle around in his bed so that he was facing her. The outline of his face was barely visible, but it was enough that she could make out where his eyes were, and where his faint smile was. “Lockwood?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For earlier.”

“I already told you, anytime.” They went quiet, just enjoying the comfort of Lockwood’s bedroom. “I talked to your dad, by the way. He said he didn’t want to lose her again, so I’ve offered to sort out a case for the phone in the morning. I also told him off for lying to you, which terrified me, because your dad is not a small man.” Y/n let out a snort at the last part, and she saw the faint light from outside light up Lockwood’s teeth as he grinned. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did. Back at the house, you were… well, I’m not really sure what you were. But you weren’t you, and it scared me. It’s like you went somewhere else, Y/n. I just can’t lose you, is all.”

“Oh.” Now it was her turn to not say much, and she could feel him fidgeting. 

“Your dad said something. About you.”

“What? What did he say?” Her heart was beating faster, not knowing if he’d said something good or bad. 

“He said that you like me a lot.” Now her heart was thumping for a different reason. 

“Well, yeah. It’s difficult not to like you, Lockwood, you’re a very likeable person, you know? Very-”

“Why are you nervous?”

“What?”

“You’re talking really fast. You do that when you’re nervous. Why are you nervous?” Damn him for knowing her so well. 

“Uh… I just… I don’t know.” She did know, but how could she admit to her boss that she had the biggest crush on him while they were lying in his bed together?

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have- it just sounded like he meant it in a… in a like like way.” She took a deep breath, and decided to bite the bullet. At least if it was dark she couldn’t see his face when he rejected her. 

“He did. I… I’ve liked you for a while, actually.” There was no response, and suddenly it all seemed like a terrible idea. “Lockwood?”

“How long?” There was no discernible emotion in his voice. 

“About two years?”

“So… since you got here?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“You’re telling me,” he started, frustration seeping through, and she shrunk in on herself a little. “You’re telling me that we could have been together this entire time?!”

“Yeah, I guess so. Wait,” she frowned, “wait what did you just say?”

“It took us removing your mother’s Source from your childhood home and your father telling me that you really like me for this to happen?!”

“… Yeah?” She heard him bring his hands up to his face and groan, and then heard him shuffle around again. A moment later his hand was touching hers, tentatively at first, then lacing his fingers through hers and tugging her closer to him when he realised he’d found her. She ended up curled into his side, her head in the crook of his neck, and his arms wrapped around her torso under the duvet. 

“Well I know you’re free after we wake up, so right after we get the glass case sorted out I’m taking you out for food.”

“Like a date?”

“Exactly like that.”

It wasn’t long after that that the pair of them fell asleep, and before she drifted off in Lockwood’s arms, she couldn’t help but think how her mother had been right about loving and being loved, and how it was the greatest thing in the world. 

tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @magicandrosewaters

[vidavalor]

What do you think Mrs. Sandwich's real name is?

Ms. Panino. Italian for a kind of bread and sandwiches. I think she's who Mr. Brown had listed just as "Italian" on his list of the shopkeepers that he gave to Aziraphale for the meeting. (It was on Whickber Street Shopkeepers stationary so I presume that it was Mr. Brown who typed it up. Looks like he likes vintage typewriters, if that's the case. No wonder he's in love with Aziraphale.)

[assassinschaoticcreed]

Can we get some headcannons about the BOYS? (thats what im calling them)

I like it, from here on out they are the boys.

since you didn't specify for what exactly, I chose random things that I have thought of, too many times before.

Altaïr 🦅

• more than once this man has walked into a glass door, and on a few occasions broke said door. he walked away like nothing happened.

• I've said it once and I'll say it again : this man is terrible with technology. like, the only stuff he's good with is old time, back in the day kinda stuff. keyboard? can't use it for shit. typewriter? this guy is like a damn journalist. laptop? the thing is destroyed because he got so mad when he couldn't figure out where the mouse was, even when desmond showed him where it was. old desktop that's built like a t.v.? perfect, everything makes sense now.

• when checking out at stores and the cashiers say "have a good day" on multiple occasions, an embarrassing amount of occasions this man has responded with: "what's so good about it", "thanks.", "you have good days?", "I didn't even want to get out of bed this morning.", "im leaving now"

• due to the last one: this man never uses a credit or debit card. cash only.

• before he broke the pasta noodles in half in front of ezio, he's thought about doing it way too many times. the reason he finally acted on it was because ezio brought up the many fires, explosions, and overall chaos that has happened when he "cooks". Altaïr internally said "fuck you, AND your pasta noodles"

• has set the microwave on fire before, blown out the front of it. cue desmond and arno running into the kitchen frantically putting the fire out, taking out what was inside it. there was a can of green beans. cue des and arno asking him why the hell he put a METAL can in the microwave. "oh you're not supposed to put metal in the microwave?"

• he is NOT a morning person. if you go to wake up this man and he's in a deep sleep, he's waking up swinging. Jacob has been slugged in the face a few times.

• I feel like Altaïr would like to nap in the sun/warm places.

• believe it or not, he was the weird kid that ate dirt.

• as a kid he was gifted an bald eagle as a birthday present from his dad, he was gifted a little yellow parakeet as his birthday present from his mother. he named her sunflower and the eagle apollo. he came back from training one day wanting to spend time with apollo and sunflower. apollo was there but sunflower wasn't, but there were yellow feathers everywhere. his dad told him apollo ate sunflower. Altaïr plucked all of apollos feathers on his head out. "you really are a bald eagle now aren't you, you little shit" vengeance for sunflower was served.

Ezio 🌹

• this man is a 5 star chef when it comes to authentic Italian food. don't ask him to make American food. anything other than Italian food he can't cook.

• after becoming great friends with Arno, ezio too is now a hopeless romantic.

• ezio and arno send each other memes either during conversations or as conversations.

• doesn't hesitate on the intrusive thoughts. just does them.

• has worn both his mother and Claudia's make up before, and he is flawless when putting on eyeliner. he doesn't go all out, he's more of the natural beauty kind of guy.

• this man can take one look at a person and correctly guess their clothing size.

• he and arno like to get together and have gossip sessions with a nice (few) bottles of wine.

• I whole heartedly believe that ezio is an amazing artist. he and leonardo bonded over painting, sketching, drawing etc. and on more than one occasion has joked with Arno with the whole "paint me like one of your French girls" gets a smack to the back of the head everytime.

• loves teasing Altaïr, he's so easy to rile up and ezio gets a laugh out of it. that is until Altaïr breaks pasta noodles in front of him. fists are up and ready to go.

• hates horses cause they have a long face, it makes him uncomfortable.

Arno 🥐

• has punched both edward and Jacob multiple times for pronouncing "croissant" wrong.

• gossip time with ezio is one of his favorite days of the week.

• when having conversations with ezio its either with memes in it, or how the conversation is being had.

• will not hesitate to roast you. loves roasting people, in fact he deep down hopes that someone will piss him off enough to roast them. even though he doesn't really need a reason.

• is very protective over the boys. (this man has trauma, can we blame him)

• an amazing singer. ezio has asked Arno for tips/lessons and once Arno heard him sing he said "can you hear yourself? no? good, cause trust me, you don't want to."

• he's really good at writing: poetry, songs, stories and even plays, but he's self conscious so he'd never try to get them to actually be put out there. ezio and desmond are his #1 hype team.

• I can see him being a great figure skater. don't know why, but I do.

• is a great baker, another 5 star chef when it comes to making authentic (french) food.

• he and Altaïr like to people watch and judge them like Simeon Cowell.

Connor🐺

• this man has a petting zoo of animals, from childhood into adulthood.

• calls animals fur babies, change my mind.

• is another one who is protective over the boys

• believe it or not, he's more in tune with his emotional side like Arno and Ezio.

• loves wearing flannels, not only are they comfy but he likes the way they look.

• wants to build himself a cabin, like the ones you see some youtubers do. chop down the trees, use them to build it and all that jazz.

• wants to have a timber wolf as a pet, it's his dream pet. he truly wants just a wolf, but knows it's not a good idea.

• brought a turkey into the house as a kid, Ziio was not a happy camper. but she didn't want connor to be sad, so she said he could keep it as long as it stayed outside.

• the turkey and Connor were playing outside of their village. it was November. there was a loud bang, Connor turned around and turkey had been shot...and he was shot by none other than Charles Lee. another reason he hates the man so much.

• (for this one we're gonna say Haytham and Ziio stayed together) whenever Charles Lee came over to visit, Connor never liked him. when his parents weren't looking he would do this to Charles Lee; bite, kick, pour salt in his food and drink, make faces etc. Haytham knew, but it also amused Haytham so he said nothing.

Edward🏴‍☠️

• cried while getting his first tattoo, like sobbed.

• Mary on more than one occasion has gotten him (when he's drunk ofc) to cross dress (like she does as james)

• is a huge fan of the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series.

• sings sea shantys when doing things around the house.

• has slept outside many times while drunk. doesn't remember how he got there, when he got there, or why he stayed.

• has wanted to try those swimming like a mermaid trend.

• wants the boys to get a pirate themed tattoo with him.

• he and Jacob like to go out drinking together and watch each other get drunk because of the way they act. unfortunately while doing this since the both of them are drunk neither knows what in God's name is going on, until they wake up outside half naked wondering why they're wearing lipstick.

• has said many times "im never drinking again" yet is holding a cup filled with alcohol.

• has pushed Jacob off the side of the jackdaw when he pissed him off.

Jacob🎩

• being evies worst nightmare is his favorite passtime.

• teases evie for having a crush on 2 of his best friends, she tells him if he ever told them his manhood will be missing when he wakes up.

• woke up on a roof one time after drinking escapades with Edward the night before. Edward was on the roof across from him.

• has worn his shoes on the wrong feet all day long to annoy evie, but also was too lazy to put them on the right feet.

• he tries to trip evie whenever the two of them are going up the stairs. jokes on him he actually trips himself.

• is the king of intrusive thoughts.

• 95% of the time he gives into those intrusive thoughts, that small 5% is evie being able to stop them before they happened.

• got a drunk tattoo with Edward once, it's a tramp stamp.

• he's the one filling Edward's cup whenever Edward says he's never drinking again.

• even though he's a jokester and does stupid stuff, he's honestly one of the most trustworthy people the boys know. "he may be an idiot, but he's our idiot" and evies like "go ahead and have him. I should have killed him in the womb"

Desmond🐶

• was adopted by the Auditores when he left the farm.

• when he first started bartending, he broke over half the glasses they had.

• debated on becoming a therapist about a year into bartending, he sure as hell felt like one. might as well get paid the right money for it.

• he doesn't like to drink alcohol very often due to how he's around it so much while he works, and sees how people act. not a favorite pass time, but he does enjoy having a glass of wine with Arno and Ezio.

• he's really good at playing guitar, he and Arno like to do little karaoke sessions, ezio is there but isn't allowed to sing.

• is good at cooking all types of foods, just don't ask him to bake. he's not good with precision so the sweets always come out messed up. leave that to arno.

• wants to get more tattoos, and has tried talking the boys into getting the brotherhood/creed insignia tattooed.

• I see desmond as a piercings kind of guy. what they are, who knows.

• Desmond is the golden retriever friend, everyone loves him.

• Desmond is the epitome of "I didn't want to wake up today, im tired you're lucky I dragged my corpse out of bed today"