#somebody please force me to finish writing something for once

[bluvlet]

feedback from my screenwriting class’ “writers’ room” today was that i can write convincing family dynamics and am good at effectively conveying an underlying sadness. constantly reminded about how i abandoned that trolley problem fanfic. i should finish that

[little-diable]

Too Sweet - Dean Winchester (smut)

Of course I had to write something with one of Hozier's new songs. We aren't surprised, are we? Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean and the reader are stuck in a back-and-forth they can't escape from, until his jealousy manages to push her away from him. But Dean won't let her go, he just won't.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), piv, some jealousy/possessiveness, quite fluffy

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.3k words)

It can't be said I'm an early bird, it’s 10 o'clock before I say a word, baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?

“Dean, c’mon! We have to go.” (Y/n)’s voice echoed through the Bunker, hands pressed to her sides as she called for the older Winchester brother. Annoyance was flushing through her system, already fed up with Dean not managing to get up on time, already fed up with how he went against everything she told him. “If you don’t get up, I’ll kill you in your–”

The door to his room was pushed open before (y/n) could finish her sentence, eyes staring at Dean. He wore his signature smirk, arms crossed in front of his chest to study her as he leaned against the door frame. 

“You will kill me where?” His voice still had the morning rasp to it that left her thighs trembling, unable to say something as Dean reached for her, pulling (y/n) flush against him. Her breath hitched in her chest, her heart pounding against her ribcage as if she had just finished fighting a supernatural being. “Speak when you’re asked to.”

“Fuck you!” She ripped herself free as Dean’s loud laughter clawed through him, high on the feeling of (y/n) pressed against him. Heat flushed through her as she turned from him, putting some distance between her and Dean before he could taunt her some more. 

For years, the two had been stuck in the same circle, a back and forth that never crossed any lines, just filled with teasing, bickering, and some unspoken heartbreak whenever one of them took somebody else to bed. A circle both desperately wanted to escape from, a circle both hated more than words could express, a circle neither of them managed to speak of to the other.

……

You keep tellin' me to live right, to go to bed before th​​e daylight, but then you wake up for the sunrise, you know you don't gotta pretend

She had her eyes focused on Dean, how he was leaning against the bar with a beer in his hand, with his eyes focused on the blonde woman standing close to him. Anger was flushing through (y/n)’s veins, wondering if he simply wanted to taint her, to annoy her some more after a day filled with bickering, or if he was genuinely interested in the woman who looked like all others he had chatted up in the past weeks. 

“You look lonely.” A voice spoke up, forcing her out of her thoughts. (Y/n)’s gaze found the dark eyes of a man standing close to her. For a second, she wanted to push him away, to tell him to leave her alone, but knowing that she was desperate for any kind of distraction guided her words right out of her mouth. 

“Seems like it.” He sat down next to her, and let his eyes wander over her features, while (y/n) managed to look back at Dean once again. She almost choked on her sip of beer as she found him staring at her from the bar, lips pulled into a thin line, jaw muscles ticking in anger. “What’s your name?”

“Mike, and yours?” A smile began to widen on (y/n)’s lips, urged on by the feeling of Dean’s intense gaze, knowing that he now felt the same annoyance she had felt only moments ago. (Y/n) murmured her name, but no further word managed to leave her. 

She felt him before she saw him, with goosebumps rising on her skin, with her breaths growing shallow, with her mind and her heart racing. Dean came to a halt next to (y/n), staring at Mike before his dark green eyes found hers. Without speaking another word, he cupped her cheek, leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. 

The kiss was over before she could begin to freak out, not sparing Mike, who left the two without another word, a thought. Neither Dean nor (y/n) spoke up, wide eyes staring at one another as both began to realise that they had just shared their first kiss. 

“What the fuck, Dean?” She gave him a push away, reached for her jacket and pushed past Dean before he could say something. For years she had waited for a kiss, needing to feel his lips pressed against hers, imagining feeling him close. But now, as it had happened because Dean had tried to prove something to himself and perhaps to her, she couldn’t find any enjoyment in it.

The cold night clashed against her warm face, she tried to blink her angry tears away as he called her name, catching up with (y/n) within seconds. Dean’s hand clamped down on her wrist, forcing (y/n) to a sudden halt.

“How dare you?” (Y/n) spat her words as she ripped her hand from Dean's grasp, wrapping her arms around her middle as if she were hugging herself. There was something swimming in his pupils, something that tightened her throat, that made her mouth feel dry. 

“Why are you so angry?” A scoff clawed through her, a sound so angry that Dean was close to taking a step away from her, close to flinching. For a few moments, all they did was stare at one another, eyes not daring to break contact, even as her tears resurfaced, blurring (y/n)’s vision. 

“For years I wait for you to kiss me. For years I had to watch you chat up some women who weren't me. And then you kiss me to prove some fucked up point? You kiss me to push away a man who showed some form of interest in me. And for what? For what Dean?” Her words worked like a slap, forcing him to quiet down. (Y/n) turned from him again, she began walking, took about five steps before she came to another halt. “I don’t want to see you again for a while, you can work the case on your own.” 

And for the first time since knowing Dean, she hoped that he’d chase her, that he’d force her to give in. But he didn’t, all he did was stare at her, and watch her leave. 

……

I think I'll take my whiskey neat, my coffee black, and my bed at three, you're too sweet for me

“(Y/n)?” Dean’s voice echoed through the evening, forcing her eyes from her book. It had been days since they had returned from their last hunt, forced to share an uncomfortable, quiet drive home. Ever since they had returned, they hadn’t spoken, (y/n) had kept her distance, and Dean had somehow disappeared, no longer crossing paths with her. “Can I come in?”

The hum leaving her urged Dean to step into her room. Their eyes were drawn to one another like magnets, leaving her trembling as she closed her book. Slowly Dean walked towards (y/n), sitting down next to her to pull her against his chest before she could pull away. 

“I have been stupid, so fucking stupid. Ever since I met you, I knew that I needed you, wanted you, but fuck, I knew that it was a dangerous game, and losing you was too high of a price. Seeing you with that guy did something to me, I don’t even know what. I shouldn’t have kissed you, at least not like that.” She shuffled around in Dean’s grasp, cheek no longer pressed to his chest, though eyes now fully directed at his face. “I wanted to give you time, but staying away from you is something I can’t do, something I don’t want to do.” 

“I wish you would have kissed me sooner, or in some other situation. You had no right to act like that when you’re the one talking to other women no matter where we go, Dean.” The hum leaving him drew a sigh from (y/n). Wordlessly she placed her head back down on his chest, letting the seconds blur by as he got lost in his thoughts. 

“Can I have another chance to make things right?” Dean’s hand found her chin, forcing her eyes back towards his again. All she did was nod her head, watching him dip down to softly kiss her. No longer did she feel the same anger, no longer was she annoyed at him for treating her like that, no, she was now solemnly focused on the feeling of his lips moving against hers. 

Dean pulled her into his lap without breaking the kiss, leaving both to hiss as she ground her middle against his. Their hands did impatient work, tugging on one another’s shirts, exposing her bra-clad chest to his wandering eyes. He ripped her bra from her frame, tongue finding her left nipple as his hand worked on the other, high on the sounds wrecking through (y/n). 

“This is even better than I imagined.” She wanted to comment on the fact that he had seemingly imagined a situation like this, she wanted to tell Dean that she had been held hostage by the same thoughts, but she couldn’t. (Y/n) felt his hardening cock press against her core, urged on by her need for friction. “I can’t wait to fuck you, to show you how you’ll always be mine.”

“Forever.” The single word rolling off (y/n)’s tongue left Dean groaning, flipping them around to pull her trousers from her trembling legs, panties following. His darkening eyes wandered up and down her frame while he undressed, exposing his hard cock to her hungry eyes, leaving (y/n) breathless. 

Dean spoke no other warning as he buried his face between her thighs, lapping at her arousal-covered folds, desperate to taste her. Curses rumbled through the both of them while (y/n) was high on the feeling of Dean’s tongue pushing her closer and closer to the edge, the feeling of his thumb circling her pulsing bundle with just enough pressure to leave her gasping. Dean found himself addicted to her taste, to her sounds, to the way she trembled for him only. 

“This is better than heaven, fuck, I’ll do that daily from now on.” He murmured his words against her warm skin, leaving the spots trembling as he let his gaze flicker up to her pleasure-drunken features. One of her hands found his, interlacing their fingers to squeeze his hand, telling him she was all too close. 

“Cum for me, sweetheart, show me how good I’m making you feel.” (Y/n) came with a call of his name, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. Dean was close to reaching for his phone to film every passing second for him to watch whenever he’d be away from her. But the sight of her orgasm wrecking through her was enough to leave him frozen to the spot. 

“Dean,” (y/n) panted his name, slowly opening her eyes to stare at him. “I need you to fuck me, I can’t wait any longer.” 

Within seconds, he had them repositioned, with (y/n) back in his lap, holding onto his shoulders. He rolled a condom down his twitching cock while (y/n) caught her breath, preparing herself for another intense orgasm. Dean’s hands held her waist as she sunk down on him, foreheads pressed together to adjust, to grasp onto the sensation. 

“Oh god, Dean, you’re so big.” Her walls fluttered around him, trying to get used to his size, to the feeling of him stretching her. Dean’s raspy chuckles guided her on, urging her to move, to rock her hips against his. He supported her every movement, stabilising her as she rode him. Their sounds grew louder, more passionate as they took what they were aching for, clinging to one another like boats rocking ashore. 

He’d forever be her lighthouse, the guiding force she’d search for in times of need, while she was the boat sailing him home, allowing him to be the truest form of himself. 

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” Dean’s praises shot heat through her, forcing her fingernails into his shoulders to cling to him, trying not to pay the ache in her thighs too much of her attention. But Dean seemed to pick up on it, giving her a slight push away to force her down on the mattress. 

With their eyes holding contact he pushed back into her, groaning at the feeling. Dean fucked her as if the devil was chasing him, begging them to give in before he could get his grasp on the two lovers. Their moans ripped through them, telling them that they were close, oh so close. 

“Touch yourself, make yourself cum on my cock.” Her fingers blindly followed his command, circling her clit to push her over the edge. (Y/n) choked on Dean’s name as she came, letting her fingernails scratch at his skin to leave behind marks that wouldn’t fade for days. Dean gave it a few more thrusts before he gave in, letting go with a groan that made her clench around him once again. 

“I don’t think it’s ever been this intense for me.” (Y/n)’s confession left Dean chuckling, he parted from her to press a kiss to her lips, eyes searching hers for a second. He threw the condom away before he returned to her bed, wrapping (y/n) in his arms with his eyes glued to hers. 

“Trust me, sweetheart, it had never been like that for me as well.” 

 I take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three, you're too sweet for me

[specialagentlokitty]

Master chief x reader - learning new feelings with you

Saw that you would start writing for Master Chief. I finished watching it like a week ago so this is a funny coincidence😂. Maybe a Master Chief (John-117) x reader with this prompt “Did you mean it?” “What?” “When you said you loved me did you mean it?” from your 2024 prompts. So many of the 2024 prompts would be great for him. You don't have to write this if you don't won't to as always of course.( •◡-)-♡ - Anon💜

Sitting at your desk, you flicked through some of the files on the tablet you were holding, taking a sip of your tea that was sat in front of you.

There was a knock on the door and you looked up.

“Come in.” You called.

The door was opened, and you smiled a little bit at the Spartan and your cell doctor who came through the door.

“Miranda, Master Chief, what brings you here?” You asked.

The Spartan took a seat in a chair on the other side of the room, and Miranda walked over to you.

“I’m sorry Doctor, I know you’re very busy but John has been injured, and he refuses medical assistance. I thought maybe you could convince him to get help.”

You nodded, standing up from your desk.

“I’ll see that the chief is safe. Thank you for bringing him here.”

She smiled, heading out of your office and you turned around to John, walking over you took a seat in front of him.

“Why are you refusing medical care Master Chief?”

“I don’t know who I can trust, who I can’t trust.”

You slowly nodded your head.

“You’ve been having an influx of emotions since you removed the pellet from your back, these are emotions you have never felt before so you don’t know how to process them, that’s okay.”

You leant over the table, tapping a finger against the helmet over his head.

“However, refusing medical assistance when it’s needed is not okay. It’s dangerous to put yourself in that situation.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, may you remove your helmet please? Show me where the injury is.”

John reached up, carefully pulling his helmet off, setting it on the floor next to his foot.

He looked up, his eyes connecting with yours, and you pulled a torch out from your pocket, flashing it over his eyes.

“Follow my finger.”

He did as you said, and you carefully turned his head from side to side to ensure that there was no pain or restriction with his movements.

“You’ll need a few stitches, but otherwise you’ll be fine. I can have somebody from the medical team come up and sort that out.”

“No.”

“No?”

You turned around to look at John, setting your tablet back down, showing him that you were listening to what he was saying.

“Do you not want the medical team to do it?”

“No.”

“Alright, I won’t call for them.”

Walking across your office, you grabbed a first aid box you kept in there and walked back over, taking what you would need out.

John didn’t say anything as you placed your hand on the side of his face, turning it just a little bit so you could work on stitching the wound on the side of his head.

“I hope you know that I’m no medical doctor Chief, so this will be a dodgy job at best.”

“I know.”

You hummed a little bit, remember what you had learnt a long time ago as you fixed up his injury for him.

When you were done, you bagged everything up, took your gloves off and set it all aside, sanitising your hands.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.” John replied.

You turned around to look at him.

“Do you feel you can trust me?”

“Why?”

“Because I would like to know why you refuse medical attention, why Miranda brought you here to see me.”

John clasped his hands together, leaning his head down to run his hands over it, letting out a small breath.

You didn’t pressure him, you simply walked back over to sit in front of him once more.

“Chief?”

He looked up at you, and you gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me of you don’t want to, okay? I’m not here to force you into anything you don’t want okay? Remember this is a safe place.”

“I need to go.”

“Alright, that’s okay. If you do want to talk though just come and see me, my door is always open for you.”

He nodded his head, picked up his helmet and left, and you walked back to your desk.

You had a good idea as to why he decided to come to you instead.

After touching the object they had found, he’d glad glimpses of what you believed were memories, he’d learned he was stolen away from his family.

He wasn’t very trusting after finding out it was the very same doctor whom been with him and the pet her Spartans this whole time.

The only constant thing he had right now was you and the other Spartans, he had demanded to see your file to make sure you weren’t in on it as well, and you showed him.

You never hid anything from him.

So, if you had to guess, he was a little more trusting of you than any of the other doctors, and he felt more comfortable with you than the people who were usually poking and prodding at him after missions if he was hurt.

You had a few sessions with some of the marines, spending some times with them, talking to them and listening to their concerns or fears.

As late afternoon came around, you were walking around your office to stretch your legs, and there was a knock on your door before it opened.

“Doctor?”

You hummed, turning around, smiling at John as he came back through.

“How can I help?”

He quietly closed the door, standing to attention, hands clasped behind his back as if he were reporting to a supervisor.

“You seem to make sense of things when nobody else can. I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

“Let’s take a seat and have a talk, yeah?”

He sat down, and you sat down opposite him.

He began to explain everything to you, sometimes pausing to find the right words or think about what he was saying.

He didn’t say much, and he stopped speaking to look at you.

“Do you understand what it is?” He asked.

“I do, yes. When we’re young we are taught how to handle our emotions, process them. Our parents teach us first, how to appropriately react to emotions. Does that make sense?”

John shook his head.

“Well, when I was a kid when I was angry I used to break things or throw things. My mom gave me a cup of water, but I was angry because she wouldn’t give me my favourite snack, so I threw the cup and broke it.”

John furrowed his brows a little bit.

“Over a snack?”

You laughed a little bit.

“Kids will do anything for their favourite snacks.”

You smiled at him.

“My mom put me in time out while she cleaned it up, then she came over, explained to me when I was angry I should never throw things, or hit people. When you’re angry you shouldn’t speak to people, and you should never go to bed angry.”

He slowly nodded his head.

“Our teachers continue these teachings, the grown ups in our lives help us learn about this emotions, how to handle them and how to process them. You never had that option, you had your emotions taken away from you.”

“Kai seems to be adjusting…”

“Kai is deflecting, Kai is finding things to occupy herself, but there will come a time where she will be forced to face the emotions she doesn’t know about yet. Grief, loss, pain, you’ll experience them as well.”

John raised his gaze from his hands to look at you.

“It’s hard to point which emotion it is you’re feeling, but if I had to guess I would assume perhaps anger, and confusion mixed into one.”

“What do I do? How do I make it go away?”

You gave him a sad smile.

“You can’t make them go away, you can push them down, but one day you will need to process them. There are different ways to doing this, and I can guide you, but I can’t process them for you, this needs to be something you do yourself.”

“What do I do?”

Getting up, you walked over to your desk and picked up a bit of paper, walking back over to him and you sat down next to him.

You were much smaller than he was, even sitting next to him on the couch it was clear that you were smaller than him.

You held it out to him and he took it.

“I keep this list for anybody who needs help figure out how to process their emotions. It’s a list of things that may help you. From going to the gym, writing letters, then there’s taking a step back from your current situation, go for a walk, find somewhere quiet to sit and just be you.”

“What do you do?”

“Well, I wait until the weekends, then I leave reach, and I go for a hike nearby. Around this time of year there’s my favourite place where all the flowers are in bloom, and I just sit there, sometimes I read, other times I just listening to the birds. I enjoy the escape of nature.”

John nodded his head, setting the paper down on his table.

“I decided to come here because I trust you.” He said quietly.

You smiled softly.

“Well, I’m glad you can. But Chief?”

You turned his head down to look at you.

“Next time please go to medical, it could be something serious. If you don’t like going there, you can get somebody to call for me and I’ll come with you, alright?”

“Why?”

You smiled softly at him, placing a hand on his arm, patting it a few times.

“Because you trust me, if that means I have to come to medical with you to make sure they don’t run any unnecessary tests, and make sure you’re alright I’ll do that.”

He nodded, and you got up, making your way back to your desk to put the paper away.

“Spartans were conditioned to only bond with other Spartans.” John said.

You looked over at him.

“I… don’t understand how to interact with other people.”

“That’s alright, you can learn if you want to. I’ll be going to my hike tomorrow if you would like to come along, I think it may help you.”

Taking another slip of paper, you wrote down a time and a place and walked over, handing it to him.

“I’ll be here, I’ll wait around for you, but you can find me there every weekend.”

He nodded, taking it from you and he left without another word.

The following day, just like you said, you waited for John, and he turned up a few minutes later, dressed in his work out uniform.

He usually wore it under his suit, so it made sense as to why he was wearing it now, they were most likely the only clothes he owned aside from his armour.

“How long does it take to get there?”

“Not long, we’ll need to stop to buy some water first.”

He nodded his head, following you to the shop, and you grabbed a couple of bottles of water, along with some food for lunch, paid for them and put them in your bag.

You and John made your way there, and you began walking the trail you walked every weekend.

“Doctor?”

“You can call me (Y/N), we’re not at the office. We’re friends right?”

“Friends?”

You smiled brightly.

“Well, you come by my office enough to not be friends at this point. I’ve never had somebody willingly come to my office so many times.”

He stayed quietly for a few moments, just searching around the trial.

He was looking around for threats, you knew that.

“How do I know what emotions are what?”

“Well, it depends on the person I suppose. And the emotion, take love for example, there are different kinds. Parental love, the love between a person and their parental figure, or parent and child. Then there’s plutonic love, the bond between friends, then you have romantic love, the love, the connection between two people who want to spend the rest of their their lives together.”

“How do you know the difference?”

You stopped walking, crouching down to look at some blue flowers that were blooming from the grass.

John knelt next to you to look at what you were looking at.

“Well, you have a plutonic love for the other Spartans, you’ll protect them, but just because you have to, but because they’ve essentially become your family.”

You looked up at him.

“Parental love, I’m not to sure how you’ve experienced that if you have. As a child I know you would have, and in time perhaps that’ll come back to you.”

You stood up, carrying on your walk, shifting the bag on your back and little uncomfortably.

John placed a larger hand on your shoulder, and he held his other hand out to you.

Taking the bag from your back you passed it over to him, letting him swing it over his shoulder.

“Thanks, it was getting a little heavy.” You laughed.

“Do you always bring so much?”

“Not always, but there’s two of us this time.”

“I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you.”

“Hey, come on chief, don’t say that. You’re never an inconvenience.”

John glanced at you.

“Why do you call me chief?”

“What would you prefer me to call you?”

He thought for a moment.

“I will call you (Y/N), only if you call me John.”

You smiled brightly up at him.

“Alright John.”

You carried on walking, every so often stopping to admire something and John would just stand there was stare at you.

He watched you carefully, not able to fully relax, put that sense that there was always a threat behind him.

As you reached a fork in the path, you took the one to the left, and soon enough you were surrounded by trees in full bloom, a sea of pink and white petals all over.

You walked to the middle and sit down, resting your hands behind you as you looked around.

“Why do you stop to look at everything?”

John sat in front of you, setting the bag between the pair of you.

“Well, it’s always important to take time to admire things you consider beautiful, for me, I find beauty in nature, the simple things that are all around us. I love it.”

John nodded a little.

“You never told me about romantic love. What is that like?”

“Well, again it’s different for everybody.”

“What is it for you?”

You were curious about his sudden curiosity about feelings, because the whole time since he removed his pellet he hadn’t shown much interest around them.

“John, can I ask why you’re suddenly curious?”

“Miranda says I love somebody. I don’t understand what that means.”

“Ah, I see. Well, for me it’s the little things that somebody does, what they like, the way they laugh, or the way they might make a small noise when they stretch. For me it’s about all the little things, not the big gestures. I don’t care about them, I’d take flowers over expressive dinner, walks instead of going to shows or things like that.”

John nodded his head.

He just sat there studying you, his eyes solely focused on you, watching your every move.

There was a reflection of the flowers in your eyes, and a warmth in your smile.

“How do I know if I love somebody?”

“Well, you could experience a need or want to be with this person, be next to them at all times. You’ll want to learn everything about them, it could be a tightness in your chest when you see them, a need to protect them. There’s a lot of different tells.”

“What do I do?”

You smiled.

“You could tell them, ask them on a date.”

John nodded his head, watching as you got up from where you were sat.

Walking over to one of the trees you stood under one of them, looking up through the blooming flowers.

John got up, walking after you and he stood behind you.

He watched your pointless attempt to try and reach them, there was no way you could teach them, but he could, so he reached up and took one of the flowers, giving it to you.

He enjoyed the close proximity to you, he didn’t know much about anything other than fighting, but he knew he liked having you nearby. He had an urge to keep you safe, and he liked seeing you smile.

“I love you.”

You snapped your eyes to him, head tilted back as you stared at him in pure shock.

John stared right back at you, his soft gaze focused solely on you, neither of you saying a work.

“Chief!”

He turned around, and you did the same thing, stepping from behind his larger frame.

“We have to go now.” Kai said.

John nodded his head, turning around to look at you.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. Please let me know you have returned home safely.”

You slowly nodded, just watching d he jogged away but you couldn’t get the thought out of your head of what he said.

Technically there was nothing wrong with anything going on between the pair of you as he wasn’t a formal patient you were simply doing a friend a favour by helping him.

You had to admit you did like his presence there, and you had wondered about if Spartans dated, held relationships and such.

You didn’t see John for a good few weeks, but the moment he was back after his debrief he made his way to your office and knocked on the door before walking in.

“Master chief?”

He frowned a little.

“I prefer it when you say my name. It sounds different when you say it.”

“Sorry John, what brings you by? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I wanted to see you.”

This made you smile, and you set down some of the books you were holding in your hands.

John walked over, he seemed to reach out for your hand but he hesitated.

“I would like to go on a date with you, but I don’t know how to do that.”

“Can I ask you something first?”

He nodded his head, and you reached out, holding his larger hand between your smaller ones.

You had to look up in order to look at him, his head turned down a little bit so he could look at you.

“Did you mean it?”

“What?”

You took a small breath.

“When you said you loved me did you mean it?”

“Yes. What you described is how I feel when I am around you, I want to explore this feeling, experience it with you. You see me for me, as John, not as master chief, even though you refer to me as master chief.”

You laughed softly, he enjoyed that sound.

“I’ll call you John from now on then.”

John studied you.

“Can you lean down?”

He complied, curiosity in his eyes.

Leaning forward, you pressed a very careful kiss to his cheek.

“Lets start slowly, a coffee date, get to know each other. You’re still learning about yourself, we don’t want to overwhelm you.”

He nodded his head, looking at his hands surrounded in yours, and he realised he had never known such a gentle and careful touch.

He enjoyed the different feelings he had around you, and he wanted to learn more about them, more about you

[avocado-writing]

I had this thought this morning and I have had no peace since and I have to share it with somebody!

I think that Wyll, because he has spent his life being very kind and restrained (something it feels like he forces on himself sometimes, even when it would be healthier to let himself react with other "negative" emotions), would actually get a lot of pleasure from taking a dominant role if you were to bring BDSM into your relationship. I think it would be the first time he ever let himself be "cruel". His favorite is teasing and edging you relentlessly until you feel like you're on the edge of madness, and only once you are a pleading whimpering mess, begging him for release, does he give it to you. If he's feeling extra mean, he'll overstim you after all of that teasing, telling you how beautiful you look as you cum for him repeatedly. I just feel like it would give him a sense of control and release over any negative feelings he feels like he has to suppress in his day-to-day. And of course the aftercare is top notch with this man, so sweet and tender. He loves you so much, and goes back to being a ray of sunshine after reducing you to a babbling mess. Of course there are just as many times where he is just the most tender partner in bed, I just think it would be such a healthy release for him and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it, I love him so much.

I don't have the writing skills to make a fic of this, but I'm hoping someone who does feels inspired by this so I can read one, hehe.

~🪷

rated e, minors dni

Your husband must be a devil, for he certainly acts like one on nights like this.

“Please, please, please…” you murmur, sex alight with need, limbs splayed out and restrained to the four posters of the bed. You trust Wyll absolutely but that doesn’t mean he won’t reduce you to a needy mess. Together it is one of your favourite pastimes: he allows himself to be a little more dominant, a little more wicked, and you lay back as he teases you to madness.

“Please what…?” he asks, his mouth breathing a trail of warmth down your thigh. You attempt to clasp his head between your legs but are thwarted by the soft silk bindings. You mewl in frustration.

“I need to come, Wyll, please let me come…”

“Hmmm… I’m not sure if you deserve it… have you been good enough?” he mutters, thinking it over playfully. You harrumph. You’re not sure how long he’s kept you like this for. Not enough for you to lose the feeling in your ankles and wrists - he is surely too attentive to let that happen - but enough that your sex is aching, desperate to be sated, calling out for your husband’s touch like it would be the sweetest salve.

From between your legs, Wyll looks up and you and grins. He has the loveliest smile, even when he is trying to drive you out of your mind with pleasure and need in equal measure.

He is delightful. He is evil.

Four times? Five? He’s taken you to the edge and left you there with his clever tongue, skillful fingers, then just let your release ebb away again. All you know is lust for him. When his tongue traces you, you yelp.

“Please! Please, Wyll! Please let me come, I need you! I’ve been good!”

As if he was waiting on those magic words he finally dips his head down and lets his mouth finish the job. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to sweep over you and he laps up every drop you give him - and it is a lot. You’ve eked this out for a while, after all.

It hits you so hard that your vision goes black and then bursts with stars, your climax a wave over your body, quenching a drought he brought on you. He is both giver and taker like this, and truly you’d have it no other way. You’ve never come so hard in your life since your husband revealed this side of himself.

You remember when he first suggested it: he was so worried, so quiet., as if you’d reject him outright and consider him a villain It was a side you hadn’t expected from him but you were thrilled. You’d snapped the book you were holding shut and made him tie you up immediately. Ever since then this side of him would rear its head, and you were always more than happy to accommodate him…

As you come down from your high, you’re aware of Wyll undoing the ties around you. Your arms and legs relax into the mattress and he wraps you up in his embrace before feeding you a glass of water which he always keeps next to the bed. You drink it down thirstily and nuzzle into his chest. He laughs, his kind self back, the ruthless persona he slips into banished for the night.

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice soft and full of concern. When you nod enthusiastically he chuckles again, and you can hear it from inside his ribs along with his heartbeat. A lovely melody.

“Well, I could probably sleep for about twelve hours after that orgasm, but apart from that I’m fine.” 

Wyll smiles and begins to gently massage the skin where the knots lay, soothing you in body and soul.

“If that’s what you desire, then sleep, my love.”

You bury yourself deeper into the safety of him and indulge.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget @useless-contributions @beardedladyqueen @snoozeeebee

[clownstillwritesfanfic]

Three’s Company - Wednesday Addams x Joel Glicker x Fem!Reader

Summary: As Becky’s daughter from a previous marriage, you’re forced to spend your summers at Camp Chipewa. This year, your long time friend (and crush) Joel Glicker has been forced to attend. He’s got eyes for the new girl, and you’re not one to fight for a boys attention. Will you make friends with the strange girl, or will you envy her?

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 9,183

Warnings: underage smoking, thinly veiled racism, mostly canon compliant, slow burn, unrequited love (but not actually), full on spoilers for Addams Family Values, friends to lovers, bisexual reader, bisexual wednesday

Disclaimer: Reader is meant to be the same age as Wednesday and Joel. Trans fem, poc, and plus size reader friendly. You are Becky’s biological daughter but I didn’t specify any defining characteristics nor anything about the bio dad. If you feel like I’m wrong please feel free to tell me. I had a big ol crush on these two as a kid and after learning Joel is played by the same guy that plays Bernard, another childhood crush, I knew I had to write something for my younger self.

__________________________________________

The year was 1993 and it was summer once again. Unfortunately for you, that meant the next few months would be spent cleaning up Camp Chippewa owned by your mother and step father and then “helping” the campers have a good time. Yeah, right. For years your mom and Gary have tried to get you to be a camp counsellor, but you would rather be burned at the stake. You think they’ve given up, thinking you’re in your “moody teenager” phase and will grow to love the place. Fat chance. This place has been your prison since you were young.

The camp had finally opened and the campers and their parents starts pouring in. Old friends greeted each other again as you sat on a stump near by smoking a cigarette. You actually hated cigarettes, the taste and the smell was disgusting to you but it pissed Gary and your mom off and that’s more satisfying. You planned on only smoking of a while but unfortunately, you got hooked. You knew it wasn’t fair to the other kids to be around that but they were all spoiled little rich brats anyway.

Speaking of, you watched as Amanda Buckman introduced herself to a young girl and her family all dressed in black. You had been watching them for a while, you liked their style and thought they were odd against the sea of pastels.

Amanda was definitely your mom and Gary’s favourite. You could tell they wished she was their daughter instead of you and she ate that up. Whatever, they’re all shallow and boring anyway.

“Why do you look like that?” You heard Amanda sneer. God, you could just punch her.

“Like what?” The daughter of the family responded.

“Like you’re going to a funeral. Why are you dressed like somebody died?” It’s called ‘being cool’, Amanda. Look it up. You rolled your eyes as you took another drag of your cigarette, finishing it off before dropping it on the ground and stepping on it to put it out.

“Wait.” The girl replied, almost threateningly.

You snorted as you passed by them and said under your breath. “God, I hope it’s me.”

You could hear Amanda’s parents start to introduce themselves as you walked away. You noticed a familiar face in the crowd and made your way towards them, your spirits lifting knowing you won’t be alone this year.

Before you could reach them, your hand was grabbed by your mother and she turned you around and forced you to stay put, one of the fakest smiles you’ve ever seen on her face. It also held a secret warning ‘don’t embarrass us’.

Gary blew that god awful whistle which made you want to rip it from him and throw it in the lake. Everyone quieted down and turned towards you. God, this is torture.

“Attention! Hey, listen up everybody! I’m Gary Granger!”

“And I’m Becky-Martin Granger! And this is our daughter, (Y/N) Martin-Granger.” She held your shoulders to keep you still as you scowled. “(Y/N) Martin…” you huffed, causing your mom to tighten her grip on you as a warning while everyone clapped.

“We’re the owners and directors here at Camp Chippewa. America’s foremost facility for, privileged young adults!” Gary explained. More like privileged little white middle class kids…

“And we’re all here to learn, to grow, and to just plain have fun!” Your mom squawked next to me.

“Because that’s what being privileged is all about!” Gary finished for her and they started clapping and jumping like toddlers. They were so delusional.

As everyone started going back to greeting their friends and talking, You slinked away from your mom and Gary and went over to where you were trying to go in the first place.

He seemed distracted as his parents fussed over him, his inhaler hanging out of his gaping mouth. “Joel?” You managed to snap him out of his daze and he looked over at you.

“(Y/N)! Hi. I-I forgot your parents owned this place.” He nervously stuttered. He always was shy and anxious, that’s what drew you to him in the first place.

“Wish I could say the same. Hello Mr. And Mrs. Glicker.” You addressed his parents.

“Hello…” Mrs. Glicker reluctantly replied. You’ve known the Glickers for years. Pretty much since you were a kid. You go to the same school as Joel and you were in the same class a few times in a row. You became pretty good friends pretty quickly and you started to harbour a little crush on the boy. His parents liked you when you were younger, but now that you’re older you think they disapprove of how you live and act but they also don’t want to ban Joel from seeing you due to him not having many friends. It’s just been you and Joel for years.

“Come on, Joel. I’ll show you around. It’s not gonna be as unbearable now that you’re here.” You smiled at him and lead him away from his overbearing parents.

“Hey…do you…know who that girl in all black was?” Joel nervously asked as he fidgeted with his hands.

“Uhhhh…” You tried to think back on who he may have been talking about and remembered the family that stuck out like a sore thumb. “Oh! Uh no, I don’t know her name but I know who you’re talking about. Why?” You had a feeling you knew why, but you wanted him to say it.

“Oh uh…” He hunched in on himself, something he does often. “Well I just…oh it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You like her don’t you. You think she’s cute.” You elbow him playfully. You didn’t get a good look at her but she seems to be close in age to you and she definitely wasn’t ugly.

“She’s not cute! She’s…she’s beautiful.”

That stung a little, not going to lie. But…you’re not going to fight for the attention of a man of all things.

~

Gary was out on the dock with a group of campers split into boys and girls. Wednesday, as you soon learned her name, and her brother Pugsley were the ones that stood out the most with their black swimsuits as per usual. Joel…well Joel looked like an idiot sported a huge mask and snorkel along with those huge flippers on his feet.

You were sat too far away on shore to hear what he was saying but suddenly Amanda jumped in the water and started flailing about and screaming for help in the most fake way possible.

You needed a cigarette.

As you got up and left, Joel watched you from the dock, feeling a little dejected that you left. Wednesday cocked an eyebrow in interest.

~

You were laying in your very uncomfortable bed as the girls told ghost stories. They had no idea what real horror was. They’d probably cry during a Halloween movie.

The girls let out a fake scream at Amanda’s shitty storytelling before she set the flashlight on Wednesday who was laying in her bed reading a book. How she could read that in the dark you couldn’t figure out.

“This is dumb.” She said, uninterested.

“Well if you can’t do it…” the blonde teased.

Wednesday shut her book and sat up, facing the others. “And so the next night, the ghost returned to the haunted cabin. And he said to the campers ‘None of you really believe in me. So I’ll have to prove my power.’ And the next morning, when the campers woke up, all of their old noses had grown back.”

You jumped as the girls started screaming bloody murder. You laughed at their horror of a rhinoplasty being undone. How pathetic.

Wednesday glanced over at you, amused that someone saw the dark humour in her story.

~

The next morning before breakfast, everyone was dressed and talking amongst themselves.

The door to the cabin opened and in walked Pugsley who immediately went for Wednesday’s bed in the corner.

“What are you doing in here?” Amanda screeched. “Get out! This is the girls cabin!”

“Shut up. He’s allowed to visit his sister.” You used your authority for once to make her drop it as you flicked your lighter open and closed.

Wednesday silently appreciated it as Amanda huffed.

About 10 minutes later the door opens once again with Gary coming through with Becky behind him.

“Mail call!” He announced. “Addams.” He handed Wednesday a letter.

“Barkley, Castleman, Callaway, Dexter, Dunman, Edwards, Evans, Finley, Fischer” Becky listed off.

“Oh no.” Wednesday stood up.

“What is it?” Pugsley asked.

You glanced over at them.

“This is unspeakable.”

“Is something wrong Wednesday? Bad news?” Your mom exaggerated a frown.

“This is the worst thing that has ever happened in the history of human events…” She turned to her brother. “Uncle Fester is getting married.”

“A wedding? But that’s great news!” Gary chimed in.

“Speak for yourself, homewrecker.” You whispered to yourself.

“To who?” Amanda sat up.

“The nanny.”

“Get out of the cabin!” She stood up. “I mean, I’d kill myself. The help?!” Holy shit you wanted to punch her.

“I’m sure she’s a very nice lady.” Becky said, although you could tell she agreed with Amanda.

“I think that’s disgusting.” The girl sneered. “I think their whole family’s like some weird medical experiment. I think they’re like, circus people.”

“Amanda!” You quickly sat up and shouted at her. Your mom made a face at you and made a gesture for you to calm down.

“What did you say?” Pugsley got defensive and stepped forward.

“Campers!” Becky yelled out and clapped to get everyone’s attention. “Group hug!” Everyone got out of their bunks and went to Becky and Gary to join in. Gary and your mom looked over at you expectantly.

“If you touch me, I’ll stab you.” You said as you had laid back down and were filing your nails.

Gary grimaced as your mom glared at you before they turned their attention to the Addams kids.

“Wednesday…” Gary broke from the group hug and made his way over to the two. “Pugsley…will a hug hurt us?”

“We don’t hug.” Wednesday replied.

“Ohh they’re just shy.” Becky reasoned.

“We’re not shy.” Pugsley started.

“We’re contagious.” Wednesday ended.

Gary and Becky retracted their hands awkwardly.

“I’m sensing some friction here. Something not quite Chippewa.” Gary said as a few of the girls nodded and agreed verbally. “But hey no problemo! All they need are good friends, good fun, and a little time in the Harmony Hut.”

Oh god…the Harmony Hut.

After the siblings were shown to the Harmony Hut you decided to go after them. You made your way to the small cabin away from everyone else, cigarette lit between your lips. You were going to need it if you were going back there.

When you finally got there, you dropped your cigarette and extinguished it. Before you could open the door, you heard screaming.

You quickly opened the door and looked to your left where Joel was pressed against the wall screaming in terror at a Michael Jackson poster on the opposite wall.

“Joel!” You hit his shoulder trying to get his attention. “Relax! It’s not like he’s actually here.”

Joel finally managed to calm down and reached in his pocket and pulled out his inhaler. You rolled your eyes and gently patted his back.

“What are you in for?” Wednesday asked as if she already asked this question.

“Nothing. I came here on my own free will.” You walked over to the white wicker seat that didn’t have a bunch of stuffed animals on it and sat down, spreading your legs and leaning back as you crossed your arms.

You looked around the place, a wave of nostalgia coming back. It held some good memories, but was also where a lot of trauma happened.

When you were younger, younger than the average campers age, your mom didn’t know what to do with you. She didn’t want to look after you and there wasn’t anyone else to watch you and she didn’t trust nanny’s. So, she had oh so graciously let you stay in the Harmony Hut. That’s mostly why it was so childish inside and why all the movies were Disney. You spent your whole summer in this cabin. Left alone for hours on end, only seeing someone if it was your mom or Gary coming to bring fetch you for mealtimes or if they stuck a “disobedient” kid inside with you. Most of the time those kids were nice and just misunderstood. It wasn’t until you were older that you were allowed to roam the campground freely if you promised to help out. You were excited at first, but quickly realized how awful your mom and Gary had been treating some of the kids that “weren’t normal”. Funny how they always ended up being the fat, non-white, non-able bodied, lower income kids. That really ticked you off. And anytime you tried to bring up their prejudices, they would brush you off and say you were too young to understand. That’s when you started to become defiant. And that’s when you started looking out of the little guys, the weirdos, the misfits. That’s why you had to watch over Joel. You knew he was going to be eaten alive.

“Why?” asked Pugsley.

“To watch you suffer…and to make sure Joel doesn’t go crazy.” You replied.

“We won’t suffer.” Wednesday retorts.

“Oh no? Why’s that?”

“We’re Addamses!” Pugsley grins.

“Right….” You flopped your head back.

After a few minutes of silence Wednesday spoke up. “Are they really your parents?”

“What?” I lifted my head and looked at her.

“Gary and Becky. At orientation they said you’re their daughter. Is that really true?”

You sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. Well, Becky is my biological mother. Gary is my step dad.”

“What happened to your actual dad?” Pugsley asked.

“I don’t know. I was an accident. My mother is too pro-life and refused to abort me. Although I think I would have preferred that. She never talks about him so I have no idea who he is or how to find him. Gary came into the picture and married my mom when I was 4. I never did like him. Life was alright until he came around.”

Joel fidgeted from his seat, he had taken the stuffed bears out of the other chair and threw them on the floor so he could sit down. He knew how much you didn’t like to talk about them.

“Speaking of marriage. Your uncle and the nanny, huh? That’s interesting.” You changed the topic.

“It’s awful.” Wednesday corrected.

“Right.” You sighed.

~

“(Y/N). (Y/N)!” Someone was shaking you awake.

“Ugh…what?” You opened your eyes and looked over your shoulder, it was close to bedtime for the campers but you had fallen asleep sooner. You saw Amanda hovering over you.

“The weird kids and that nerd boy are trying to break out.” She snitched.

“So? Good for them.” You turned back around and closed your eyes.

“Ugh! You’re no help. I’m telling Beck and Gary.” She stomped off with her entourage of blondes.

You sighed and decided to get up and see what was going on, at least for Joel’s sake. The Addams kids could probably handle themselves.

You finally caught up to group as they were getting chastised.

“I have allergies.” Joel whimpered. Damn it…he was cute.

“Oh you’re allergic?” Becky mocked. “To sunshine, and archery, and crafts?” God she pissed you off. She knew he had actual allergies.

“Yes.” Joel snapped back. You had to hold back a snort.

“I think they should be punished.” Amanda smirked. “Punished! Punished! Punished!” She chanted, which caused other kids to step in.

“No! NO! We are not here to punish.” Becky corrected. “We are here to inspire.” She put her arm around Amanda’s shoulders.

“Campers…do you know what I think our little ninja friends here need?” Gary asked the group. “Do you know what just might turn their sad and potentially wasted little lives right on around?”

“What?” Joel asked timidly and he moved from side to side.

Gary was handed a guitar and he strummed a tune before everyone started to sing ‘Kumbaya’. You immediately turned around and left. They were on their own now.

~

It was later in the night, you were unable to go back to sleep so you decided to have one last cigarette for the night. You really needed to quit but damn did it help.

You were walking around close to the lake. It was always quiet and peaceful at night. You noticed Wednesday never returned to the cabin. You suspected another trip to the Harmony Hut. That was, until you saw her, or at least the silhouette of her sat on a bench looking towards the lake next to Joel. You could faintly hear their conversation.

“Are you really allergic?” She inquired.

“Uh huh. To almost everything.” He replied

“No, you’re not.” She challenged.

“Am, too!” He defended. “I can’t have dairy products, or wear wool, or drink fluoridated water. Do you know what happens if my mom uses a fabric softener?” His mom had to be some kind of hypochondriac because you really don’t think he’s allergic to everything.

“What?” Wednesday asks.

“I die!” Joel says dramatically.

You watch as Wednesday scoots over to sit closer to him and sigh as you drop your cigarette on the ground and put it out before walking back to the cabin.

This sucks. But if she wants him, she can have him. She seems cool enough anyway, and Joel really likes her. It’s not worth getting in a petty cat fight over.

~

It was the next day and you were avoiding everyone. You didn’t even eat breakfast or lunch. You actually went back to the Harmony Hut since you knew no one would find you there. You had to mope around and mourn any chance you may have had with Joel. The sooner you do that. The sooner you can get over him.

You decided to cheer yourself up by getting back at that little blonde brat for all the shit she’s pulled so far.

You walked deep through the forest, a basket and thick rubber gloves on your hands. You saw what you were looking for just up ahead. Poison Ivy bushes.

You were covered to protect yourself from plant as you harvested some of the leaves, putting them in your basket. Once you had enough you stood up and stretched before picking up the basket, holding it in your elbow.

“What are you doing?” A monotone voice called out behind you causing you to jump and turn around.

“Jesus, Wednesday. You nearly scared me to death.” You huffed.

“Pity. That would’ve been a good show.” She tried to joke.

You huffed a laugh and answered her question. “I was picking Poison Ivy.”

“What for?”

“I’m going to rub it all over Amanda’s bed. Want to help me?” You asked.

Wednesday gave something sort of a small smile and nodded.

You both walked back to camp in silence until you spoke up. “So…you and Joel, huh?”

“What about him?”

“You like him.”

“I don’t hate him. But I don’t hate you either.” She clarifies.

“I don’t hate you either. I think you’re odd, but I like that. You’re different from everyone else and I enjoy it.” You smile.

“Thank you. I asked him to come with me to my Uncle Fester’s wedding. I have a pass and I’m allowed one guest.”

“I see. Well I hope you have fun. Or well…I suppose you won’t. So I hope you’re extremely unhappy.” I chuckle.

Wednesday smiles slightly at your understanding of her feelings. “You can come too if you’d like. Pugsley is allowed one guest too and he hasn’t chosen one yet.”

“Oh! I…I wouldn’t want to impose…” you stuttered. You were flattered that she offered it in the first place.

“You won’t be. No one will mind. They’re very understanding.” She assured.

“Thank you…” You both walked in silence a bit longer before Wednesday broke it this time.

“You like him don’t you?”

“Who?” You asked, although you had an idea who she was referring to.

“Joel.”

“Oh…um…well yes. He’s my friend. Has been for a very long time. Of course I like him.” You tried to deflect.

“You know what I mean.”

You sigh. “Yes…I do like him. I have for a while now. But it’s ok. I know he likes you and you like him as well. I’m not going to fight for his attention, he made his choice and I respect it. And if he were to have a crush on anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

Wednesday felt this strange feeling inside. She didn’t know what it was and she hated it. It felt weird. She respected your stance on the situation though.

~

It was the day of the Addams wedding. You were shocked that your mom actually let you go. Anything to get you away from her you guess.

Luckily you had an appropriate dress for the occasion, even luckier, you were encouraged to wear black which took up most of your wardrobe.

You sat next to Joel, who had put on a yarmulke for the occasion. He rarely ever wears it so you often forget he’s Jewish.

Wednesday walked down the aisle first, throwing dead flower petals on the ground followed by her brother holding a pillow which had a severed hand holding the ring on it. You wondered if that was a real hand.

Your answer came soon enough when it moved on its own which surprised you. But looking around at the family gathered around….You shouldn’t have been.

The only one that stuck out among the crowd of odd people dressed in black was the bride herself. Debbie you believe her name was. She wore a classic white wedding dress and she looked stunning.

As odd as everyone seemed to be…you really enjoyed being there. You loved how weird everyone was. You even got to meet Wednesday and Pugsley’s parents and wow…they were both so attractive.

You loved how attentive and loving they were to each other. You could feel the passion and respect radiating off of them. It made you yearn for a family as fun and accepting as this one.

The time came for the bouquet toss and you got lumped together with the other ladies although you had no interest. They fought over the pile of flowers before it was revealed that Wednesday had caught it.

“Now you have to get married.” Joel looked nervous.

“It’s not binding.” Wednesday replied, actually sounding a little embarrassed.

When the wedding was over, Joel and I were allowed to stay the night and Mr. And Mrs. Addams were gracious enough to give us our own rooms.

You were sat on the bed that was surprisingly comfortable despite looking all beat up. You were thinking back on how different your life could’ve been if you had a family as loving as Wednesday’s.

You wanted to smoke but felt like it was disrespectful to smoke in someone else’s house despite seeing Gomez and Pugsley sporting cigars earlier, this was their house after all, they could do what they wanted. You’d open the window but…it had bars on it for some reason.

You heard a soft knock on your door before it creaked open and Joel popped his head in.

“Hey, can I come in?” He timidly asked.

“Yeah, of course.” You moved over to make some room on the bed for him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing…I just wanted to come say goodnight.” He sat beside you. “And…well…what do you think of their family?”

“Honestly? I think they’re really weird and kinda intimidating. But I like them. I find their weirdness endearing.” I sighed.

“Yeah…” He sounded a little distracted. “Wh-what do you think of Mr. And Mrs. Addams?”

“What don’t I think of them? They’re like the perfect couple. They love and respect each other, they have passion and affection that they aren’t afraid to show no matter the company. I hope to have something like they do one day.”

“Yeah, me too.” He sighed. “And you will too. I know you will. There’s a lot to love about you.” He likes over at you and smiled.

You felt a blush heating up your face as you looked away from him.

“What about Wednesday? What do you think of her?” He pried.

“I like her. She’s different. But a fun different. I hope I can keep in touch with her after summer. I’d like to stay friends.” I sighed.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I know you like her, Joel.”

“Huh?! N-no I don’t!” He defended. I gave him a look.

“Ok ok…yes I do. The wedding got me thinking that I’d like to spend the rest of my life with her.” He confessed.

“Oh…” I wasn’t exactly expecting that.

The clock struck midnight, twelve long gongs sounding out across the house.

“Well…I guess I should go to bed now. See you tomorrow.” He said as he stood up and walked over to the door.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” The door clicked shut behind him.

You sighed and laid down on your side, quickly wiping away a stray tear.

~

The next day, back at camp, Wednesday, Pugsley, Joel, and Amanda were doing archery taught by your mom and Gary. Most of the other campers were out on the water in canoes or doing other activities.

This was one of the sports you actually enjoyed doing and were pretty good at. You had your own station all to yourself next to the one where Joel was struggling to load the arrow into the bow as Wednesday was reading aloud a letter that was written to her and her brother by their Uncle.

“Glicker, gooo.” Gary impatiently moaned.

Joel stared at him and threw the arrow on the ground which caused you to snort.

“Good try.” Becky tried to sound supportive.

Joel handed the bow to Pugsley and went to the back of the line. You listened to Wednesday read the letter as you loaded your own arrow and pulled back the bow, taking aim, and then letting it go hitting a perfect bullseye. You looked to your parents hoping to get a little praise but they didn’t even acknowledge you. You heard clapping and looked over towards Joel who was smiling at you. You smiled back shyly and looked away. Wednesday had paused her reading as she watched the interaction.

“Gooo.” Gary impatiently whined as Pugsley drew the bow back and aimed upwards. A squawk was heard before a giant bird fell to the ground.

“It’s an American Bald Eagle.” Becky said is awe.

“But aren’t they extinct?” Gary asked.

“They are now.” Wednesday answered now holding the bow.

“Impressive shot.” I said.

“Thanks.” Pugsley beamed. I liked Pugsley. He was a little different compared to his family. But he was still loved all the same.

~

You were sat behind the bleachers with the Addams kids and Joel. You sat a little bit in front of them smoking. You made sure you sat in an area where the smoke would be carried away from them because you didn’t want to trigger Joel’s asthma. You didn’t like smoking in front of him for that reason but also because he’s made it known how much he hates that you do it. You wouldn’t normally do it but…you were itching for it.

You were watching as Joel opened up some mail he received earlier. He seemed pretty excited for it and told us about it as soon as he had it. Gary and Becky were currently on the little stage that overlooked the lake telling the campers about Gary’s “vision”. It was things like this that made you think your mom was Gary’s beard. He was just a little too fruity.

“Look at this! I got ‘em. Schizos and serial killers. I almost have the whole series. I’m only missing Jack the Ripper and that Zodiac guy.” Joel opened his envelope and pulled out a stack of cards. You know his collection well. You got him a few cards for his birthday once. “But look, The Black Widow.”

“It might be Debbie.” Wednesday chimed in.

Ah right, they suspected their new Aunt has nefarious intentions with their beloved Uncle. You thought they’d love something like that. It seemed to fit in with their aesthetic.

“At least three rich husbands…all dead.” Joel said dramatically.

“I’ll trade you.” Pugsley offered.

“For what?”

Pugsley reached into his pocket and took out a card. “Amy Fischer.”

“Sorry, man. I already have three of her.”

Pugsley shrugged and put the card back in his pocket.

You were going to say something when you were cut off by girls screaming in joy.

You rolled your eyes.

“(Y/N) put that out!” Joel chastised you.

“Or what?” You teased.

“Or this.” He took the cigarette from you and put it out on the ground before throwing it away.

“Aw come on, man!” You whined.

“No! They smell awful and they’re bad for you.” He glared as I groaned.

While you were bickering you didn’t notice Wednesday stand up and peer over the top of the bleachers. She looked spooked, which you’re pretty sure has never happened to her before.

“What’s wrong, Wednesday?” I asked as the others turned to look at her.

“They cast me as Pocahontas.”

“Oh god don’t even get me started on that stupid play.” You huffed.

“What’s so bad about it?” Joel asked, clearly he had no idea.

“It’s racist as hell and an excuse for Gary and my mom to play favourites and pick on the kids they don’t like. They act like they love Native Americans but wait until you see the script. It’s going to be racist as all hell.

~

You were sat in the bleachers reading a book, actually it was Joel’s nerdy little science book. You understood some of it but it got pretty technical and advanced pretty quickly and you lost track. You know Joel would be able to explain everything in a way that made sense, he’d be a good teacher one day if he wanted to be one. The thought made you smile.

On the stage, Becky was choreographing a dance number for Gary’s gay little play. When it ended, Amanda came out in her pilgrim costume causing Becky to gasp.

“Look at you! Oh, Amanda you look perfect!” She squealed. “You’re just the prettiest pilgrim I’ve ever seen, Gare! Come and take a look at this!”

Amanda was eating up the attention causing you to roll your eyes and scoff.

“Here they are!” A boy shouted out. “We caught em by the pay phone.” He and another boy marched Wednesday, Pugsley, and Joel onto the stage.

“We were calling the FBI.” Wednesday stated.

“Their uncle is in trouble, we were running a check.” Joel explained.

“And you are late for your fittings.” Becky accused.

“I don’t want to be in the pageant.” Wednesday’s statement caused Becky to gasp.

“Don’t you want to help me realize my vision?” Gary asked.

“Your work is puerile and under dramatized.” She continued. “You lack any sense of structure, character, of the Aristotelian Unities.”

You snorted trying not to laugh.

“Young lady, I’m getting juuuust a tad tired of your attitude problem.” Gary seethed.

“Everyone! Campers!” Becky jumped and clapped. “I have a wonderful idea! Wednesday and Pugsley and young Mr.Glicker here, well, they have just never quite latched on to the Chippewa spirit. Not have some of their little comrades.” She looked accusingly towards the “misfit” kids.

“Isn’t that sad?” She asked the campers who all replied in unison.

“Yes!”

“Don’t we just hate that?”

“Yes!”

“Don’t we wish they would just DIE!”

“Yes!”

“Oh no we don’t. But you know what we’re gonna do with them? We’re going to make an example. We are going to show that ANYONE, no matter how odd, or pale, or chubby, can still have a darn good time! Whether they like it…or not.” She finished.

“What are you gonna do?” Joel asked timidly.

You saw where this was going and you’d be damned if you had to stay around these people alone any longer.

“Nothing. They’re cowards.” You said.

“(Y/N) how about you join them? You have been a Debbie downer since the beginning.” Gary said.

That’s how you found yourself sat in a chair in the Harmony Hut once again.

“Yes, indeedy, just the ticket!” Gary said condescendingly. “Bambi.” He held up a VHS tape.

“Lassie Come Home!” Becky held up another.

“The Little Mermaid.” Gary gasped.

“Stop it.” Wednesday demanded.

“He’s only a child!” Joel reasoned, referring to a scared looking Pugsley.

Gary ignored him and popped a VHS in.

“Don’t worry, we’re getting out of here.” Wednesday whispered to Joel.

“But…it’s Disney.”

When one movie ended, Becky or Gary would come in and pop in a new one. It’s almost like they had the runtime down to memory. You didn’t mind the movies. You did grow up on them after all. They were a guilty pleasure. But, that doesn’t mean you didn’t fall asleep halfway through the second movie.

Soon it was night time and Wednesday had hatched a plan to put an end to everything once and for all. Joel shook you awake and got you up to speed before Wednesday opened the door and walked out, you all following behind her to see all the campers crowded at the door with Becky and Gary at the front.

“Well, good evening. Is there anything you’d like to say to everyone?” Gary asked.

“And just what that might be?” Becky added.

Wednesday took a step forward. “I’m not perky.”

“That’s for damn sure.” Amanda scoffed.

“But I wanna be.” Wednesday continued.

“You do?” Gary asked unsure.

“I want to smile, and sing, and dance, and be Pocahontas in Gary’s vision.”

“Oh darling, do you really mean it?” Becky asked hopefully.

Wednesday did her best to smile sincerely but you could tell it was hard for her.

“Isn’t she pretty!”

“She’s scaring me!” Amanda whined as Gary and Becky put their heads together.

You sighed and walked away to go to bed.

~

Today is the dreaded day. The Thanksgiving play that Gary put his whole “heart and soul” into. As if he had either one of those.

They tried to rope you into it and give you a role but you refused and they’ve dealt with you enough to know that no amount of Harmony Hut visits or bullying could get you to bend.

They’re still riding the high of getting Glicker and the Addams to join. At least…that’s what they thought.

All the parents were here except the Addams, something to do with their Uncle you presume. As you looked into the crowd of adults sat on the bleachers, all you saw was a sea of white people. There was one black couple and they stuck out like a sore thumb. They must be Jamal’s parents. Good kid. Really funny too. Could probably get a good career as a stand up comic.

You were standing off to the side, leaning against a tree. You could see the stage from where you were and you were excited to see how Wednesday’s plan goes.

Gary and Becky took the stage which caused some applause. After it died down, Gary leaned into the mic, a stupid pilgrim hat on his head. “Each Summer, we take this occasion to celebrate a seminal event in American History.”

“This year we depict perhaps the most important day in our shared past, the first Thanksgiving!” Becky, who had a stereotypical feather headband on, continued.

Honestly…Thanksgiving is months away, why are they doing it now? Probably their obsession with their Native American prejudices.

“A day for maize, the Native American word for corn, a terrific turkey dinner, aaaaaand brotherhood! So, white meat, and dark meat, take it away!” Gary finished. Both him and Becky quickly retreated to their spot under the stage in front of the bleachers to watch and direct.

You watched as kids dressed as different vegetables ran around the stage before they were joined by more kids dressed as turkeys who started to sing some awful, and quite frankly, racist, song. Poor Pugsley was the main turkey. He looked miserable. Only going along with it for the sake of the payoff at the end.

You were going to need a cigarette.

After a quick intermission to put more props on the stage, Amanda finally got her moment.

“I am so glad we invited the Chippewa’s to join us for this holiday meal. Remember, these savages are our guests. We must not be surprised at any of their strange customs. After all, they have not had our advantages. Such as, fine schools, libraries full of books, shampoo.” She recited. A few chuckles came from the crowd.

Wednesday entered the stage with the “misfit” kids behind her. “How, I am Pocahontas, a Chippewa maiden.”

You had to hold back a laugh at how fake she sounded.

“And I am Running Bear, betrothed to Pocahontas!….In the play.” Joel started out strong then got nervous. What a nerd.

“We have brought a special gift for this holiday feast.” Wednesday continued. Pugsley then waddled on stage towards the centre before facing the crowd.

“I am a turkey. Kill me!”

“What a thoughtful gift! Why, you are as civilized as we. Except we wear shoes and have last names.” Amanda addressed the crowd causing a few more privileged chuckles.

“Welcome to our table, our new primitive friends.”

“Thank you, Sarah Miller. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Your hair is the colour of the sun, your skin is like fresh milk, and everyone loves you.” Wednesday replied.

“Stooop. Sit.” Amanda said.

“Wait.” Wednesday held out her arms and finally dropped the fake smile.

“What?” Amanda was confused.

“We cannot break bread with you.”

Amanda looked over to Gary and Becky in confusion. You stopped leaning against the tree, standing straight in interest.

“Huh? Becky what’s going on?”

“Wednesday!” Becky whispered harsh enough to be heard.

Wednesday turns to the crowd to address them. “You have taken the land which is rightfully ours. Years from now, my people will be forced to live in mobile homes on reservations. Your people will wear cardigans, and drink highballs. We will sell our bracelets by the roadsides. You will play golf, and enjoy hot hors d’oeuvres. My people will have pain and degradation. You were people will have stick shifts. The gods of my tribe have spoken. They have said ‘Do not trust the pilgrims, especially, Sarah Miller.’”

You coughed, choking on your smoke, at the cold hard truth bomb Wednesday just dropped. It’s obvious her parents took proper education seriously.

“Gary, she’s changing the words.” Amanda whined.

“And for all these reasons. I have decided to scalp you, and burn your village to the ground.” Wednesday finished which prompted Joel to give out a stereotypical war cry, you’d have to get on him for that later. All the ‘Indians’ scattered, causing chaos. Two dropped from some zip lines and took Amanda away while others set fire to the backdrops.

Amanda was forcibly tied to a pole as you noticed Joel go behind the bleachers, he looked over at you and gave a thumbs up before pulling a lever, causing the whole back row that had his parents on it to tip over, making them fall backwards. You couldn’t help but laugh.

More things were set on fire as Pugsley shoved an apple in Amanda’s screaming mouth. Flaming arrows were shot at Gary and Becky, a girl dressed as a pilgrim went flying into the lake, pies were launched from makeshift catapult’s tied to some kids backs, Michael steered his wheelchair around Amanda as he held the rope, continuing to tie her up. What looked to be gasoline was poured on the wood by her feet. Things were hectic and you were loving it.

Wednesday slowly approached Amanda before pulling some matches out from where it was tucked in her headband and lit them, making Amanda scream harder. She didn’t actually set her on fire, but the scare was enough to make the blonde pass out.

Some of the kids had cornered your parents and you didn’t feel the need to help them. Instead you went over to Joel.

“That was…insane. I can’t believe you did that. Good job, man.” You patted him on the shoulder which made him blush and look away.

“Thanks…” he muttered. “But, it was all Wednesday’s idea.”

Wednesday approached you two silently, a satisfied look on her face.

“Absolutely incredible, Wednesday.” You complimented. She smiled.

“Wednesday…do you…do you want to go on a canoe ride?” Joel asked, biting his lip, a constant nervous habit of his.

“Sure.”

Joel pushed the canoe that was on the shore further into the water. Wednesday started to walk towards it before turning around and looking at you. “Are you coming?”

You were taken aback a little bit. Not expecting the offer. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You blushed slightly. You thought maybe they’d want to be alone. Knowing your presence was wanted was a nice feeling.

Wednesday took the front of the boat and you got in the middle, Joel holding out his hand and helping you in. Ever the gentleman he was. Once you were sat he pushed the boat into the water and got in the back and started to paddle out. Once you were a few yards out, you carefully laid down sideways so your feet dangled off one side and your head was on the other.

You closed your eyes and listened to the sounds of nature and the nearby chaos on shore. This was a surprisingly fun day.

Later that night, Wednesday and Pugsley enacted their escape plan. You lost track of them but you knew where they were going and you wanted to say goodbye.

When you finally found them, Wednesday was in the other side of the fence, back in her normal clothing. Joe was still in his costume.

You were too far to hear what they were saying but you definitely saw them both lean in and share a kiss through the fence, both wiping it away seconds later.

You stopped as you felt your heart crack a little. You weren’t sure why. It’s not like they liked you like that. Wait…they? You meant Joel. Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to dwell on that as you accidentally stepped in a stick causing it to break. Both Joel and Wednesday looked over to you, relaxing when they saw it was you.

“Sorry…I just wanted to say goodbye….” You winced as you walked towards them. You stood next to Joel and looked at Wednesday as her brother pulled up behind her in a van, honking the horn and telling her to hurry up. “Keep in touch, ok? You’re too weird to let go.”

She nodded before looking between you two and turning around and heading towards the van. As they drove off down the dirt road you sighed.

A moment of silence went by before you looked down in front of you.

“Is that Amanda’s retainer?”

~

It was a year later when you got the invite from Wednesday to join the Addams in celebration for her little brother’s birthday.

Just like she promised, she had kept in touch, you would send letters to each other all the time.

Your parents had shut down the camp due to major damage caused by the fires and their general fright of this happening again. Word also got out on how they treated any kids they didn’t like.

Becky finally divorced Gary, and while your relationship never fully healed, it’s taking baby steps. Gary really brought out the worst in her. And you were right…he was not straight at all, and funnily enough. Neither were you.

You figured it out over the last year that you had feelings for Wednesday. She made you feel the same way Joel still does and man did it send you for a loop. Joel and Wednesday never seemed to become a couple, but the same feeling was there, Joel had gone on and on about her until you banned him from the topic due to him not talking about anything else. It also hurt double to know the two people you liked were into each other. But as long as they were happy, or in Wednesday’s case, ‘unhappy’, then you were content.

It was a small intimate event and you had bought something nice to wear that made you feel good and got you a few compliments. For people that had unconventional standards and practices, they were still so kind.

Little What seemed to like you as well and would stick by you a lot causing you to grow fond of the little mass of hair with a pacifier. Thing was your favourite, he was so fascinating and you found ‘talking’ to him quite easy.

You were all sat together in their living room, or would they call it a dead room? Gomez clinked his glass with Morticia’s and raised it.

“A toast! To the glorious mysteries of life. To all that binds a family as one. To mirth, to merriment, to manslaughter.”

A few noises of agreement went through the room as you softly giggled.

“To dear friends,” Gomez continued, gesturing towards Cousin Itt and his wife Margaret who had their baby on her lap.

“To new friends,” He gestured towards Fester and Dementia, What’s nanny.

“To youth!” He looked towards Wednesday, Joel, and you.

“How do I look?” Joel asked smugly. It was obvious he was trying to emulate Gomez, especially with that ridiculous fake pencil thin moustache. You tried to tell him he was being a little too obvious but he didn’t take the hint.

“Disturbing.” Wednesday replied. You knew that was a compliment.

“Ridiculous.” You muttered as you took a sip of whatever was in your glass. Wednesday softly elbowed you in the arm.

Gomez turned towards his wife. “To passion.”

“To paradise.” Morticia added.

“To pain.”

“Tonight.” She whispered seductively.

They leaned in to share a kiss but were interrupted by Grandmama.

“Make way for the birthday boy!” She cried as she carried little Pubert out in her arms as Pugsley rolled in a huge cake behind her. It had a guillotine as the topper with a single candle in the middle.

“Thing, will you do the honours?” Gomez asked. The sentient hand picked up a match and struck it with his thumb, jumping up to light the candle. Once lit, Lurch started to play Happy Birthday on the organ.

Sometime later, Joel and Wednesday were sat outside on a bench in her families graveyard. You were a couple feet away, smoking your last cigarette of the day. You’ve started to cut down, you went from multiple a day to only two or three. You think it’s because your stress has gone down over the past year considering Gary is no longer in your life and you have more positive people in your life. Despite your distance, you could hear their conversation.

“Your family is really…interesting.” Joel started. “Your parents are so involved with each other.” He scooted slightly closer to her.

“Wednesday. Do you think like maybe someday you might wanna get married and have kids?” He asked. He’s become less shy and more confident over this past year.

“No.” Wednesday replied sharply. You knew that would be her answer. She’s talked about it before with you, how she has no desire to be pregnant and she doesn’t see a point in marriage. You were inclined to agree somewhat. Although you would like a wedding. A day all about celebrating the love between you and your spouse sounded nice.

“But…what if you met just the right man who worshipped and adored you, who’d do anything for you, who’s be your devoted slave? Then what would you do?” He tried again.

“I’d pity him.” She answered. God, he was hopeless. He doesn’t understand what she wants at all.

Joel nodded solemnly and kneeled on Debbie’s grave, some dead flowers in his hand. “Poor Debbie. She was sick.”

“She wasn’t sick. She was sloppy.” Wednesday corrected.

“What do you mean?”

“If I wanted to kill my husband, I’d do it, and I wouldn’t get caught.”

“How?”

“I’d scare him to death.” Wednesday stood up.

Joel scoffed. “No you wouldn’t. We’re all very sorry, Debbie. We wish you only the best.” He leaned over to place the flowers on her grave when a hand shot up and grabbed his wrist causing him to scream in terror.

Wednesday smiled as you started laughing hysterically.

~

It was late now and you were getting ready for bed. The Addams had been kind enough to let you and Joel sleep over once again and you were currently on the bed reading a book when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” You called out. The door creaked open and Joel popped his head in. He washed that stupid fake moustache off and the gel out of his hair, bringing back his soft curls. He looked more like himself now.

“Hi.” He whispered.

“Hi.” You replied. You sat up on the edge of the bed and gestured for him to sit next to you. He walked in fully and closed the door slightly behind him but left it ajar, he wasn’t planning on staying long.

“You look nice.” He stuttered as he adjusted his glasses, a nervous habit.

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m wearing pyjama’s. You’re the one that looks nice. You finally look like yourself instead of a knock off Gomez.” You teased.

“Yeah…about that. I really thought she felt the same. I mean…we kissed back at camp before she left! Did it not mean anything?” He whined.

“Oh my god…you’re so clueless.” You sighed. “She does like you back. You just don’t understand. You’re trying to be her dad because you see how in love Morticia is with him, but Wednesday is not Morticia, and she never will be. Gomez isn’t some devoted slave like you think he is. Their relationship isn’t based on ownership, it’s based on mutual respect. Wednesday doesn’t want a slave, but she wants something similar to her parents in her own way. You’re looking at the surface level, you have to dig deeper and see what it really is.”

“You’re correct.” The door opened fully which revealed Wednesday standing in the hallway.

Joe stood up. Shocked and embarrassed that she overheard that. You slowly stood up too, feeling awkward.

“You may not have noticed but…I’m not big on affection the way my mother and father are. I respect their relationship and they way they express themselves but I don’t want that for myself. I do like you, Joel. And I’d like to continue with you but I want it to be in our own way.” She explained. Joel nodded and smiled.

You looked to the floor and scratched the back of your neck, feeling odd at being in the middle of this.

“I want that with you too, (Y/N).” Wed essay continued.

“Huh?!” Your head snapped up towards her.

“I like you too. And I know you like Joel, I not only observed that myself but I remember that you told me back at camp. And I know Joel likes you too. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I hope you like me as well.” She said matter of factly.

You looked to Joel who couldn’t look at you, looking to embarrassed that his secret was out.

“I…Joel…is that true?” You pried.

“Y-yes. I’ve had a crush on you for a long time. Years. I just…thought you were out of my league and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.” He confessed.

“Oh my god….” You didn’t know what to say.

“I’d like for us to figure something out. I don’t want to choose one. And I don’t want you choosing either. I think we could make it work.” Wednesday took one of your hands in hers and one of Joel’s in the other.

“M-me too.” Joel agreed. They both looked at you for your answer.

You stood there shocked. This is not what you expected at all. “I…uh.” You looked down at your hand in Wednesday’s before you felt Joel pick up your other hand and rub his thumb on the back of it. “Y-yeah. Okay.” You nodded.

~

It’s 20 years later and you’re cooking dinner while Wednesday sits at the table reading a biography written by some serial killer. She looks so much like her mom now.

You heard Joel walk through the door before he came into the kitchen. He grew his hair out slightly, still curly as ever. His style didn’t change much, still a nerd but a more gothic nerd now.

“Hi, darling.” He kissed Wednesday’s hand that she held out for him, a small smile on her red lips as she never took her eyes off her book.

He came over to you and hugged you from behind, kissing your shoulder. “My love.”

“Hello, Joel. How was work?” You asked.

“Hectic as always, you know those kids, always making a mess during a lab.”

Joel had become a science teacher at the local school, just like you thought he would and you couldn’t be more proud.

“Where’s Morty?” He asked as his hands migrated to your hips, pulling you closer and kissing your neck.

“With Lucky. He’ll be staying the night.” Wednesday replied, watching you two. Considering she wasn’t very affectionate, she enjoyed seeing her two lovers interact.

Lucky was Pugsley’s son. Morty, which was short for Mortis, wasn’t actually biologically any of yours. He showed up on your doorstep one day as an infant in a basket with a note asking for him to be loved. And loved he was. You all adored him and so did the rest of the family. No one cared that he wasn’t born into the family, he will always be an Addams.

“Dinner will be ready soon.” You reached up and lightly scratched at Joel’s scalp as he hummed, careful not to get your ring stuck in his hair.

You and Joel had gotten officially married as you both desired to do so, Wednesday still wasn’t keen on marriage but that didn’t mean she wasn’t any less in the relationship. Everyone was so supportive of your odd arrangement and you couldn’t be happier.

For once, you finally had the life you’ve always wanted.

[starjxsung]

hi angel <3

how are you doing? you’re so strong, you know that right? i’m so sorry to hear what happened to you. humanity keeps cementing itself as the worst species. not wanting to write about men is so understandable and please don’t force yourself to do so until you feel comfortable with it. anyone with empathy will understand the trauma that comes with having to go through something like that. take as much time as you need to heal. i send you the absolute biggest hug and my undying support.

i’m so honored that you think of me when you see kitties😭 that is all i want in life🥹

did you watch the kitten video?🥹��� i was so distracted with the kittens that i don’t remember anything they said but i’ll watch it a million more times😻

my bank cannot handle another comeback + tour🥲 im struggling as it is wtf jyp </3 im so excited for lolla, we’re staying for like a week and are working on the logistics for our non-festival days. it’ll be so fun. im also listening to a lot of chappell roan lately too, im really pumped to see her. i am so with you @ the barricade at every concert you go to (real) <33

if you get around watching the kdramas someday, imma need your review <3 and nana!! i love that, a nana keychain sounds so cute🥹 i finished it already (im bedrotting 4 summer rn) and i read the manga too and it’s so sad but so beautiful so i def recommend you watch/read it someday!

and for the kittens, the baby with the RI is doing so much better in just a few days with antibiotics <3 once its eyes are fully opened and healed, i shall send pics!

ily angel <3 you’re the sweetest person ever to exist. remember to rest, eat and stay hydrated! take care, always <3 sending you hugs!

-🐈‍⬛

HI MY BABY ANGELLLL I’VE MISSED YOU 🥹🫶🫶🫶🫶 I love you so very dearly. It’s been so frustrating getting through the days lately. But I’m doing my best ! The neighborhood was very supportive of it when I called the police and posted about it publicly which helped a lot <3 and I’m staying off my phone for the most part which makes things feel a little less stressful. Sending you all the hugs in the world, I love you so so much and I hope you’re doing absolutely amazing as well 🫶❤️🥹

STOPPPP the amount of times I’ve watched the kitten video 😭 I wasn’t expecting Channie to be so good with them???? Also forever laughing at Felix and Jisung trying to handle the kittens LOL the way they were clawing at their knees is exactly what momo does when she gets really excited and even though it’s adorable it can really leave a mark if her nails are long 😭 that being said, Chan needs a kitten. Somebody get him a kitten

I can’t believe we’re at like!!! One month until Lolla!!!!! We’re making all our plans too and it’s honestly nerve-wracking but I’m soooo fucking ready to see skz again ahh it’s been so long since I saw ot8 together and I’m stoked we’re probably getting new songs! I already preordered the new album (rip my wallet 💔😀) and my bank acc is HURTINGGGG….. everybody remind me not to spend anything until Lolla (impossible)

I will absolutely let you know what I think about the kdramas if I get around to them!!! I’ve been rewatching Kingdom these days and after that’s done I’ll be in dire need of bedrotting content again <3

Also soooo happy little RI kitten is doing better!!!! I forgot I referred to it originally as RI kitten so I just stared at my phone for a whole minute thinking ��Rhode Island kitten???” LOL so glad little kitty’s doing amazing though 🥹❤️

Sending you all my love sweet angel I hope the summer days are good to you 💓🫶❤️💝💘💞👼 also here’s my latest pc & holder I’ve been obsessed with…. Jun Han from xdinary heroes if you’re reading this I love u

[estasticvanni]

“Roomies” Pt 1

Category • Fluff

Ship • IsaNagi

Anime • Blue Lock

Tw • ???

AN ° This is a long one shot,so grab a snack!

★。＼｜／。★

Isagi Yoichi. The most generic guy,at least that is what he thought of himself. A graduate of a basic school,living a basic life and learning for a basic degree. See the pattern? He barely has fun in his life. The only thing that entertained him was watching soccer but it was like a stab to the heart when he remembered he almost made it to nationals.

Isagi sighed as he walked into his dorm,it was a mess but it wasn’t his doing. It was his roommate’s.

“Nagi,please stop leaving your clothes on the floor..“ Isagi stepped over the stranded clothes to rip the blanket off Nagi,to which Nagi just stared at his phone,not caring a little.

“Nagi! I swear you’re an addict. Can you at least do your chores when i’m out..?” Isagi snatched Nagi’s phone which forced the pale haired to avert his gaze to Isagi. “Too much work. Can I have my phone back now?” Nagi never failed to not be productive. Mopping? Too tiring. Washing the dishes? Too tiring. Making his own bed? Too tiring.

“Fine,you’re just gonna take it anyway.” Isagi tossed the phone to Nagi, who caught it in a instant and began to play on it once more. If only Isagi could get a better roommate,he wouldn’t have to do grueling chores. Isagi flopped on his bed after he walked in his room,he thought about how he could be something for once. He wanted to be somebody,not just a grad who nobody remembers. What could he do? He wasn’t a social butterfly,he didn’t have any real talent and he for sure wasn’t a charmer. Out of the corner of his eye,he sees Nagi enter his room,closing the door behind him and suddenly towering over him.

“What is it now? I’m not going to the store for you,you have to go yourself.” Isagi sighed,knowing that Nagi most likely wanted something or possibly he wanted to sleep in Isagi’s bed for the 50th time. As Nagi laid in the bed and leaned on Isagi,the answer was obvious. Nagi wasn’t the clingy type but he was the type to be near you more than the average person. “Ugh! For the last time,you’re too heavy to lean on me!”

Nagi didn’t care,never would. Isagi knows that and if he’s being honest,this is the only not basic thing in his life. Being cuddled by his roommate. “You’re warm and it’s cold.” Nagi mumbled into Isagi’s neck,randomly pressing his lips to that spot. “Seriously..?” Nagi continued holding Isagi, no matter how much Isagi complained ; Nagi wasn’t letting go. It was embarrassing,Isagi didn’t like it but neither did he hate it. Besides,it’s not like they haven’t done this before,they’d done plenty of stuff before. Majority of it being allowed because Isagi wanted something different in his life.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

Isagi was bored out of his mind,clicking his pen as he finished writing a essay,he tried to ignore the fact that it was Valentine’s day. The day of love,something he never could grasp. As he pushed his chair into his desk,he glanced outside. Couples. Parties. Making out in public eye. Isagi clenched his fist and closed his curtains,everyone had a partner and he was stuck home with his lazy roommate.

‘Damn it all!’ Isagi mentally cursed himself as looked over to his lazy roomie in his bed,how could he sleep so long?! Isagi swore his alarm clock went off loud enough to wake a person in a coma,then again this was Nagi. The guy could probably sleep through a tsunami. Isagi sighed and walked out of his room to get something to eat,making his way over to the fridge,there was nothing. Absolutely nothing to eat. Isagi had already asked for his monthly allowance and spent it on manga,he was doomed. He was gonna starve in this dormitory. “What are you doing? There’s nothing in there.”

Isagi snapped his head around to look at Nagi,who was rubbing his eyes and holding his phone per usaul. “No shit ,sherlock..” Nagi continued to stare at Isagi and Isagi stared back,in his mind,he was cursing Nagi,Nagi would go through 4 bags of chips and yet he’d look all nonchalant. “We can go grocery shopping,I need to buy a new game anyway.” Isagi scoffed,of course he’d only go outside for a game (Not like Isagi was any better spending money on manga..)

“At least get dressed,you have grease stains on your shirt! It’s gross..” Nagi looked down at his shirt and shrugged as he walked back into Isagi’s room,right…Isagi and Nagi could pretty much wear eachother’s shirts although Nagi was way taller. Isagi was nearly about to leave himself before he head Nagi walking out of his room. “Your shirts are tight.” Isagi scoffed at the sight,why did Nagi look better in his shirts than him?! ‘Damnit all…’

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

Isagi was the only one dojng any shopping,Nagi was just tagging along while Isagi struggled to get what he needed since it was only on the top shelf. It was embarrassing having to ask people to help.. “Nagi…” Nagi didn’t seem to me listening as he towered over the video game aisle,why did Isagi have to be stuck with this lazy,game addicted bean pole. Isagi sighed as he dragged Nagi over,pointing at the box of chips at the very top.

“Can’t you get it..?” Isagi was baffled,could Nagi not see how highly that shelf was? Isagi could barely reach the edge of the top shelf,on his toes! “Are you gonna pick me up so I can reach it? No.” Nagi stared blankly for a moment,Isagi raised his eyebrow slowly. “I could.” Isagi scoffed and shoved Nagi. “Just get me that box..or i’ll lock your phone up!” Nagi shrugged and did as told,dropping the box in the cart and walking back off to the video game aisle. Isagi swore he should just leave without Nagi,it’s not like Nagi is a child,he can find his way back home.

So,ironically,Isagi did the leave the store without him. Once Isagi was back in the dormitory,he began putting everything up,the dorm was nice and quiet..peaceful and devoid of any sounds of clicking from a controller. Everything was fine. Well,until the front door opened,there stood a drenched Nagi,it had began raining..

“Isagi. You left me.” Isagi was more surprised at the hint of emotion in Nagi’s usual monotone voice. The door shut with a slam,Nagi sighed and ruffled his hair before plopping on the couch. “Hey! Don’t get the couch wet…” Nagi glared at Isagi.

"I-I mean you could totally get the couch wet! Wait..that sounds so wrong." Isagi chuckled and Nagi whipped out his phone to play on,he couldn't keep his emotions up for long per usual.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

In the dead at night,Isagi couldn't sleep for even a second. He kept thinking about how his life was so normal yet he was so average that nobody looked his way. He hated that. Even the generic isekai mc gets love,what does that say about Isagi? Isagi tossed and turned before getting out of bed entirely,he rolled over but he hit something..

Upon looking up,he could see a faint whitish color. Nagi. This wasn’t anything new,so Isagi got out of bed as sneakily as possible. Of course,like the nocturnal animal he is,Nagi grabbed Isagi’s arm before he could get out of the bed entirely. “Where are you going?” Isagi sighed and yanked his arm away. “To get something to eat,you seriously need to sleep in your own room..” Nagi grumbled and clutched into the pillow underneath him. “Don’t wanna. It’s comfortable in your bed,with you.” Isagi was rendered speechless as his face went red. Maybe Nagi wasn’t so bad after all..

“…Either way! You have your own bed so..you should sleep in it,lazy.” “Don’t wanna. Too much work.” Isagi groaned and face palmed,too much work to get in his own bed? Seriously?! “Ugh..”

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

Morning time had rolled in,and Isagi was chowing down on a omelette,it reminded him of how much he missed his mom’s cooking. Speaking of which,he should have enough funds to go home this weekend. After the whole valentines fiasco,he’s looking forward to leaving campus. Though,one thing troubles Isagi and that’s if Nagi can even be on his own. Wait,why was he worried..? Isagi scoffed at his thoughts and glanced at Nagi who was looking right at him. “Aren’t you gonna play on your game…and not look at me..?” “I don’t want to. Im curious about you.” Isagi raised his eyebrow. They’ve been roommates for a year and now he was curious?

Jeez. Was he that uninteresting? He couldn’t be! “Well…don’t look at me…it’s weird..and creepy..” Nagi looked away and whipped out his phone,Isagi still had to think. Would Nagi survive without someone to clean up and cook,could Nagi even cook?! “Hey,Nagi. Would you..” Isagi couldn’t believe he was even asking. He wanted to enjoy his vacation with his family but he would not risk coming by back to a filthy house..”Would you like to spend summer break with me?” Nagi glanced at Isagi and nodded. “Yeah.” Isagi sighed,mentally he was screaming,he sabotaged himself.. “Where are we going ?” Nagi asked,putting his phone back in his pocket. “To my parents house- That’s where I want to go anyway..” Isagi swore he could see Nagi smile a bit,what was he even smiling about..?

“Then I can meet your parents. That’ll be fun.” Isagi huffed,why’d Nagi have to act like boyfriend material..Wait what. Isagi blushed at his thoughts,no way was he considering Nagi to actually be his boyfriend,he was so…lazy..and cute. “Y-yeah..! Just pack your bags beforehand..If you’re not ready by then,i’ll leave you here by yourself..!” Isagi spoke as if leaving Nagi by himself was a punishment in the slightest. Nagi nodded.

Isagi sighed, they’re starting to be more than roomjes..

So my poll was tied because like 2 people voted different options so i’ll try again! This was also because I wanted to write more blue lock!

[itsmattchou]

ANNOUNCEMENT !

hi guys! there's something i have to talk about with you regarding the future of my blog.

first of all, thank you for all the support! a big shoutout to everyone who enjoys the bs i write🫶🫶 also thanks for almost 200 followers! i love y'all <3

after thinking about it for some time and even asking friends / fellow zumblr writers about advice, i have decided that i won't continue writing for the hyung line of zerobaseone, excluding seok matthew.

i love writing for the maknae line. i really enjoy it and i get the job done in practically an hour- but when it comes to writing the hyung line versions of my posts, the draft sits around for like 5 days before i finally force myself to finish it and upload it.

it's not like i hate jiwoong, hao, hanbin or taerae. i have seriously nothing against them, they're super talented boys and they deserve being a part of zerobaseone. but i just cannot bring myself to enjoy writing for them.

further on, i will not split my posts into hyung line and maknae line anymore. instead it will mostly be "chou's 5": matthew, ricky, gyuvin, gunwook and yujin. from time to time i will be writing ot9 posts, if it's something simple like headcanons or similar to but still, i know how pretty your heart is.

i wish that nobody attacks me over this decision. writing is a hobby and it's supposed to be fun, but i can't have fun when it feels like a dreaded task to write for the hyung line.

once again i want to mention that i love all the boys and that i do not hate them. there's a bunch of other blogs writing for them anyway🫶

and if somebody wonders why the hell i still write for matthew… that man was my number 1 pick and he's the loml. of course i enjoy writing for my sunshine bababuy🙏🏻 i might even change my username to mattchou now that i'm thinking about it HOLD ON

anyway, please do not send hate, accept my decision and please continue on enjoying what i write❤️ love you guys, thanks for reading!

[hannahssimblr]

I've tried to write sims stories in the past but I always end up running out of steam quickly and giving up on them. How to you stick to your consistent weekly schedule? I'm in awe of how you keep putting out full chapters every week

Hello!

Firstly, apologies for leaving this unanswered for a couple of days, i'm very bad at writing back to people when I know the message is going to be very long lol.

I think maybe it comes down to like.. experience or something? I've been writing sims stories since I was 13 and everyone was doing it for sims 2 so I kind of got to know what works and what doesn't work for me, along with how to deal with and build engagement. OBVIOUSLY I am not a professional writer or anything like that, I'm just a lowly hobbyist but here are my tips!

Please plan! I get it, it's boring, but you WILL regret it if you don't. Literally, you can just plan in your head and that can be enough if you're thorough, but before you start you should have an idea of where you will end. If you launch in to chapter one and just write with the ~vibe~ then that's really cool, but you might find yourself out of ideas, or unsure what the theme of your story is by chapter five. You want to avoid getting overwhelmed and giving up.

Choose a theme and stick with it. Make sure you keep coming back to that theme and following the thread. Try not to deviate and start talking about side characters back stories, because while it's very fun to do, you'll quickly realise that you've created something that feels a little... disorganized, and then likely stop writing. (BTW! Side character stuff is fun! But you can explore that outside of your main story, in tumblr posts or in a little "extras" section on your blog if you want to!)

Stay ahead. I go back and change chapters constantly. It's so normal to write something and think it's fine, and then while writing a later chapter realise that the story would be better if you changed what you've written a couple of weeks ago, so give yourself the space to do that. Once the chapter is published, it is out of your hands. Currently I am 6 chapters ahead (Very manic) but i recommend having a healthy cushion of about 3. Don't post that first chapter until you're up to ch 4.

It's normal to care about what people think, but don't let it rattle you. Your story should be for you, and your should stick to your convictions even if others make noise or disagree. If you're trying to please everyone you will quickly burn out and lose interest, so don't be swayed by what others want you to write! Releasing chapters week by week like this is an interesting way to do it, as it allows people to view your work in segments rather than a whole finished piece. It's easy to be swayed off course by people's comments and think "hmmm maybe that person is right, I should change this.... DON'T, GIRL. Stick to your plan. Unless obviously, they have a point...

You need to stick it out. The first weeks or months of a story are the hardest because you can often feel as though you're writing into a void. I've noticed that an audience takes a long time to form, but don't take it as a reflection on you or your story. Most people quit writing their stories after less than 5 chapters, so people might not even click on your links until your past that point to avoid the risk of getting invested in something that will be abandoned. It took me a good 3 months to get almost any comments at all on Lucky Girl, and that was fine, because I was ready for it. (I was also prepared to keep going even with minimal engagement, but more often than not, if you build it they will come.)

You have to love it. You have to be genuinely passionate about creating something and telling a story. Everyone has a story to tell, so have conviction in yours. It is worth telling, and it will speak to somebody. Love your characters, get to know them, listen to what they want and don't force them to do or say things that you know they naturally wouldn't. Be obsessed with it and you'll be fine.

No pressure. If a schedule is too much, cut it out. Everyone is different. For me, it works, for others it is too much and they prefer to run on vibes and feelings. I've seen both methods work well.

Tips related to actual sims: people care about your screenshots, make sure that you put a little effort in, but don't burn out creating custom poses, building every lot and creating every background character if that will burn you out. I know I can't do this, so i stick with a style that's easy to uphold, and forgive myself if i can't make everything look exactly right. On my sims 3 story, Dustland Fairytale (SO to those who are still here after all this time!) one of the things that majorly burned me out and made me sick of it was having to build so many lots all the time when all I wanted to do was tell the story. Take advantage of the gallery, use CC and poses by other people, cut corners and focus on the parts that are important

I can't think of anything else! I hope this is helpful <3

[itzynabi]

goodnight

summary: in which eve comes home late

set: early may 2022

warnings: mention of food and i think that's it

word count: 0.6k

an: i'm back! writers block has been kicking my ass lately, the ideas are there but the ability to write? gone. anyways, please enjoy this cute little scenario! feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💐

eve’s masterlist

Eve put in the code for the door, sighing when it opened and she let herself in. It was three in the morning, and she had just finished a dance practice for young luv.

She switched on the light and put her dance bag on the kitchen counter, knowing she’d use it again in a few hours, when she saw a sticky note on the edge of the counter.

your dinner/midnight snack/breakfast is in the fridge. you can warm it up when you get home. lia :)

Eve smiled as she read the letter. She went to the fridge and saw a bowl of jajangmyeon sitting in the middle of one of the shelves. She took it and walked to the microwave, putting it in for two minutes and quietly getting her chopsticks out the utensils drawer.

Once the jajangmyeon was done warming up, Eve started eating it. She replied to some texts from her friends and family as she ate. When she finished, she took her dish to the sink and washed it, dried it and put it in the cupboard when she was done, then went to switch off the light as she left the room.

Before going to her room, she went to Yeji and Lia’s, to check if they were asleep. Lia was fast asleep, so Eve gave her a kiss on the forehead before leaving the room. Yeji, however, was still, barely, awake, watching a drama, her lamp on providing light. She looked up when Eve knocked on the door and opened it.

“You’re back,” Yeji said, getting up from bed and going to hug her member. Eve reciprocated the hug and walked Yeji back to her bed.

“You don’t have to stay up and wait for me, you know,” she stated, forcing Yeji down by her shoulders so she’d go into the covers.

Yeji shrugged. “If I were the one who had a schedule until this time, you’d stay up for me.”

Eve took Yeji's phone and switched it off, placing it on her bedside table. She made sure Yeji was comfortable in bed before switching off the lamp and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you, Jiji. Sleep well,” she whispered against Yeji's head.

“Goodnight, Nana.”

Eve crossed the distance to the still open door, trying her best to be quiet when she closed it and cursing its tendency to creak every time it’s being closed. She walked to her room, letting out a breath of relief when she opened it and feeling her body sag with exhaustion.

She changed out of her dance practice clothes into her pyjamas in the dark, something she does when she gets home late so she doesn't get comfortable in bed then remember she forgot to turn off her light. As she neared her bed, she noticed that somebody was in it. Upon closer inspection, squinting her eyes and the power of deduction, she noticed it was Yuna.

It wasn’t uncommon for Yuna to sleep with Eve. When they were rookies, Yuna would sleep with Eve whenever the former was feeling overwhelmed or stressed. Eve would wrap her arms around the younger girl and they’d go to sleep like that. It had been a while since they last did, though. Since they separated dorms, it became something they rarely did.

Eve brushed her hand along Yuna’s face, smiling at the sleeping girl. She got in the bed behind the girl, placing her arm around Yuna’s waist. Yuna then stirred and turned around to place her head against Eve’s chest, doing a little dance as she got comfortable.

“What are you doing here?” Eve asked, patting Yuna’s hair.

“I missed my unnie. And I’ve been a bit anxious lately,” Yuna mumbled sleepily against Eve’s shirt.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Yuna shook her head. “Not now. When the sun is up.”

“Okay.” Eve kept stroking Yuna's hair until the girl fell asleep again. She then closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh, feeling her body slip off into sleep.

tagging: @mystic-luv // @ateezivy // @ateezjuliet // @cafemilk-tea

©️ kim nabi

[plush-rabbit]

The Dateable's Making You Flustered

Request: Flustered scenarios with the dateables

A/N: Sorry for the bit of delay!! I really need to work faster with these (1k each)

-

Barbatos:

It’s been such a long time ever since the butler has felt some sort of attraction towards somebody. It surprises even himself and he’s able to see into the future. Yet, when he was given- or rather forced- into a day off, the first place where his mind had wandered had been to you. It was you that he thought of first. He didn’t have a clue on what he wanted to do, but when he was told that he had the day off- no exceptions- his mind had automatically gone to spending time with you. Barbatos wonders what changed that made you so important to him- he wonders when it happened, how it snuck past him and caught him by surprise.

He invited you on his day off, had sent you a quick message asking you’d like to accompany him around Devildom to pick up a few things for himself rather than the usual outing to the market. You had graciously agreed and now he stands beside you, his hand on a book and you peering to see what’s written on it.

“What’s the book about?” You ask, haven given up on trying to figure out what it was that had gotten his attention.

A few demons reach around and pull a book away from the shelf, talking excitedly to one another and he moves to stand closer to you. He smiles at you and holds the book close to him, already deciding to purchase it. “It’s an old tale from Devildom, similar to your Hansel and Gretal but this one is a bit more heavy.” You give out a hum, pleased at his answer and nod your head. “If you’d like, I could lend it to you once I’m done.”

“Oh!” You gasp, grabbing at the same book and holding towards you. “I’ll just take one with me,” you offer and he can’t help but feel a little disappointed that you didn’t want to take his. “This way, we can read at the same time and then discuss. If it’s supposed to be similar to Hansel and Gretal, I’m sure that I’ll enjoy it. Plus-” you look up at him, your smile kittenish the book pulled to your chest- “it can be like our secret book club. I’ve been needing an excuse to go to the castle and visit, so this will be perfect,” you say excitedly, see-sawing between the tips of your shoes and back to your soles.

“You don’t need an excuse to visit the castle.” He hooks his arm with yours, slowly pushing you away from where a growing crowd of demons appear. “You know you’re always welcomed. The Young Lord would never dare to shut the door in your face.” He stops near the corner end of the store, his eyes attracted to a few trinkets where he reaches for.

The book is lowered and you shift your stare to where you both once stood. “And you?” His attention is grabbed immediately and he looks at you with a confused stare. You meet his eyes for a moment before you pull away. “Would you mind if I came over?” You clear your throat and look down, your bottom lip pinched between your teeth. “I wouldn’t want to…” you trail off, clearly unable to find the proper words. “I wouldn't want to distract you or make your work any more difficult than it already is.”

He can feel the back of his neck grow hot. He can’t be mistaken by what your words mean. You want to know what he thinks of you, if you’re welcomed in his eyes. His shoulders lower and he smiles at you, his hand reaching out to take your book from your hands. When you look up at him, he has his gaze kept on the title of the book, following the rise and fall of each letters.

“You’re always welcomed.” He takes in a small breath and fixes his gaze back to you. “You could never be a distraction for me. If you wish to have a secret book club with me, then I am more than honored to be your guest.” He clears his throat and looks away from you, his smile slowly growing but wavering as he lets out a shaky breath. “You make work easier. I enjoy my job, but I must say that when you’re around, the only thing I can think of is finishing in order to spend more time with you. Being around you is… nice.” He returns his stare back to you. “I’ve been around for a very long time, but when you’re around me, well, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so young. I’m not sure what it is about you-” he raises a hand and holds your cheek- “but I find myself happy whenever I’m with you. So please, never think that you are a bother towards me. You’re always free to visit- whether it be for our secret book club-” he returns the book to you, smiling when your fingertips brush against his- “or just because, I’ll always make time for you.”

It might be cruel of him, but he can’t help but smile and let out a quiet chuckle when you press your face against the book. “Barbatos,” you say in a hushed whisper. He only hums in response, glad that his words had such an effect on you. You look up at him with a faux pout and furrow of your brows while he stands there with a wide grin. Your eyes turn away from him and you finally let a smile appear. “Thanks for the reassurance,” you mutter.

“Of course. Nothing that I said was a lie, so it was quite easy to let the words out, you know,” he teases, grabbing the book from you before you have another chance to hide yourself. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to see in the store, or do you wish to go somewhere else?”

“I uh-” still flustered, you rub your cheek where his hand once was- “can we check out the manga section?”

He hooks his arm through yours, his body close enough to where he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume. “Lead the way,” he says, following your footsteps through the store. He isn’t sure when his feelings towards you had changed, he doesn’t even recall the giddiness of when it all started, but he doesn’t mind it. It’s a nice change of pace. You’re something unpredictable and reckless, and something soft and fragile, and he welcomes having you so close to him, to where he could lean over and press his lips against the crown of your head and keep you protected under his touch. Barbatos welcomes the change that you brought and while the change wasn’t originally for him, he enjoys that it is for him now, that you’re the one that gets to be close to him and that gets to have the pleasure of having you wanting to visit him.

Simeon:

Who could have ever thought that he, an angel, would fall in love with a human? The very thing that an angel had created a war for, the very thing that caused him to lose those close to him, and the very thing that had shown just how different he was from someone he had considered a brother, he now commits the same unholy act. He must be a hypocrite. He is a hypocrite. The very thing he turned a blind eye to and here he is, so undoubtedly in love with a human that he fears his wings will be ripped from him, his blood staining his clothes and his halo broken beyond repair. Terror makes his blood run cold and yet, he cannot look away from you. Simeon keeps his gaze upon you with a mixture of hesitation and melancholy and you just smile back at him, the phone in your hand shared between the two of you as you watch a parody of a teen romance on an application.

“It’s amazing how much people have grown to like this er, show?” He asks, still unsure of what to call it. “It’s considered a show, right?”

Your shoulders raise in a shrug and you give him a small, tight lipped smile. “I guess. I think most people refer to it as a series.” The phone is lowered and it returns to your lap. “It isn’t wrong to call it a show, but since they’re short little bursts of episodes, I think people find it easier to call it a series, but it can go any way.” You move away from him, scooting until your thigh is at an angle and your knee is pushed against his. “Anyways, to answer your question, yes people do like it. I think since it’s like a parody but also suspenseful with the cliffhangers, it keeps people entertained.” He nods his head slowly, and he tries to ignore the rush of cold that is now at his empty side. “Did you like it?”

His eyes slightly widen, and his lips pull into a thin smile. “I- Well, considering the fact that it’s written and done by one person- I- It certainly is different than the things I usually consume, but-” He struggles to find a way to finish his thought without offending you in any sort of way and ends with a stiff nod of his head.

It’s a tense moment that doesn’t last long enough to linger on when you suddenly laugh. Your laugh is loud as it effectively gets him to snap his mouth shut. Your hands are waved in front of you and your knee leaves his as you curl onto the couch. “You don’t have to force yourself to like it, Simeon, I only wanted to show it to you, because you asked what I was watching.”

He appreciates you giving him an easy out, and he releases a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. It’s a slow release and suddenly he can breathe again. “Well thank you for sharing it with me. I appreciate that from you.” Silence lingers and it isn’t like before where it’s tense, it’s lighter now, but it still feeds him an odd sense of air where he’s stuck between a breath, his eyes stuck on you.

Once more, your laughter fills the room and it’s short and sweet, a gift given to him for just the moment. “Of course, Simeon. I like spending time with you, and I especially like sharing my interests so I guess, thank you for allowing me to do that.” Your hand reaches towards his and he sees the slightest pause from you, the way your fingers twitch until you allow yourself to hold his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

Warmth returns to him, something akin to a summer’s day in the Celestial Realm, and even though all air has left him once again, he is breathless in a way that matters, weightless and joy illuminating him. When he meets your eyes, he cannot look away and he cannot help but return your smile. The clock ticks onwards and he’s left with a heavy heart. He’s read about the perfect moment, thought about writing something so trivial and false, and yet, the perfect moment sits before him with their hand in his.

“I have to be honest with you,” he murmurs and his eyes feel hot, a lump forms in his throat that makes his words sound tighter. “I- I don’t-” How could he ever phrase what he wants to tell you? How could he drop that sort of confession on you? You know the story, would you ever want him to actually confess to you, to repeat the past mistakes and know the horrid outcome? He frowns. His eyes are stuck on the floor, running along the edge of the carpet and he can feel your gaze on him, your eyes that are heavy with concern and ever the angel, Simeon spares you and gives you the easier answer. “I’m thankful to have met you,” your name is a sweet whisper on his lips, a taste of sweet peach that makes his heart full and heavy. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as wonderful as you. I see you and I think that I’ve found something even more pure than an angel.” With every word, his hand turns to slip into yours, his gloves thin enough to feel the small crevices and calluses on your hand. “Even if you are human and you’ve committed sin, I still think that you are the most pure of them all with your kindness and generosity.”

He isn’t sure what he had expected, but he hadn’t expected to have you plant your face against the soft back cushion of the couch, your face held there for moments. Your hand slips away from his and he’s left holding empty air. His hands fret over your body and when you pull away, your face is flushed, your hands covering the lower part of your face as you look at anywhere but him.

“Simeon,” you whine, closing your eyes tightly. “That’s really sweet.” Your voice is high-pitched and your eyes open once more, as your hands finally lower. “I think I might actually die, that was really nice and something that I don’t hear often.” You finally look at him and your smile is ever growing. “Especially from an angel,” you say with a half-hearted chuckle.

His smile is soft and to him, it dulls compared to your brilliance. As if you were a puzzle, he fits into your hand with ease and grace. “Well if you were to die, I would return you in any way that I could.

Solomon:

He’s human, ageless and immortal, but human. He’s lived and loved, lost and grieved, and he’s gone numb and distant to emotions. He didn’t mind it, he welcomed it. He hated losing and hated the people that he lost and the empty space that they left. He promised that he wouldn’t ever want to feel that sense of sadness ever again. Then you came into the picture. He’s been called shady and worse words than that, but you don’t call him that. You hold his hand and you welcome him into your arms. You go on and on about the human in him and how you love that he’s there with you. Solomon isn’t sure when it was that he broke his own promise, but when he looks at you, he’s willing to love again and again.

The kitchen is a mess and powder covers the counters. His hands knead the dough and the smell of garlic and onion sizzled with oil is heaven in the air. You measure the ingredients and whisk at the eggs. It’s domestic and it’s something that leaves a storm of butterflies in his stomach. He could watch you forever, in the kitchen, with an apron tied around your waist, flour in your hands and the tip of your tongue peaking past your lips as you concentrate on rereading the cookbook. It’s domestic and it’s something he had long forgotten that he wanted.

“I have the ingredients memorized, I could simply tell you what to add,” he muses, returning to forming the bread into its shape.

“Knowing you, you’ll add something in there,” you quip, your smile now directed at him, with your tongue still pinched out. “Plus, it’s just reading. I can read,” you say with a defensive tone. “Just start dressing the bread with garlic and then we can get on with breading the chicken.” You jerk your head to where the chicken rests on the cutting board, the flour beside it.

“Okay,” he sings under his breath, returning his attention to the dough before him. The room is filled with a song from the Human Realm, a classic that has him feeling warmth in a kitchen that is not his, but with a person that is. It makes him long for another time, but when he catches you in the corner of his eye, he’s glad where he is. “I like your song choice,” he says, instantly biting the inside of his cheek once the words had left his mouth. It’s been so long since he’s ever tried to have an actual connection with someone, and he’s sure he wasn’t ever this awful at it.

“Yeah?” You step close to him, holding your hand out. “Care for a dance then?” Your smile is crooked and eyes gleaming with excitement as the song is replayed with a touch of your hand.

He’s frozen for a second, stuck in time, and rooted into place, his hand moving through thick amber as he lets his hand rest in your palm. The room is spun, colors mixing with each other and slowly blurring until he stands still, pushing you away and pulling you close, laughing and letting his hand rest against your side, his hand feeling the soft curve against your ribs. Your hands are powdered and his smell like bread, and your laugh is young and youthful. He can’t help but follow, letting his smile break out and hand slipping out of yours, to encase you in a hug where he traps you into a swaying motion.

The song fades and he’s forced to pull away, to step away from you and there’s hesitation is his steps and movements. His hands linger for a second too long, his eyes still stuck on you and his smile much softer than it was before. It’s a few seconds of silence where you take in deep, heavy breaths, and sway lightly to the song that approaches.

Your name is said and it’s sweet like honeysuckle and addicting like a drug. It’s a night where he invited you over, and now you two are busy making dinner in the kitchen and you’ve given him instructions and kept a close eye on what he does. Your perk your head and nod, allowing for him to continue. “Thank you for coming over,” he says with a tight smile on his lips.

“Anytime, Sol,” you respond, coming beside him once more. You bump your arm into his, leaning to look at the garlic mixture in a bowl. “You know I like spending time with you, so anytime you need a cooking partner, you can always call.”

He doesn’t say anything, only nodding and trying to keep the butterflies in his stomach at bay while his heart beats frantically against his chest. You move away from him, returning to where the powder rests in a bowl and he’s left without, and while the distance is short, it’s something that is unwelcomed. He’s left with dough in his hands and you’re away from him, and loneliness settles.

“Can I call you whenever?” He asks, an easy smile on his lips, but there’s a plea in his words. He’s never been the needy type, but he needs you.

“Of course, you can,” you respond and you’re as kind as ever. You turn away and close the bag of flour, pushing it aside to clear the space at the table.

Like a drug that leaves his mouth dry and heart racing, feeling as if he’s about to die, he calls your name. You’re so close to him and yet, you aren’t close enough. He needs you. He needs you beside him. And he takes the first step, standing in front of you with a red kissed face as stares at the cabinets against the wall. You call his name and your hand is tender against his neck, leaving a white stain that snows onto his shirt.

“I just wanted to thank you. I know how busy you can get and I just-” he can feel the telltale sign of tears and he wonders when he’s gotten so emotional- “I like spending time with you. I like your music choices and I like it when you cook with me- even if it’s just you giving me instructions- but I like it.” His tongue touches against his lips and he looks at you, fiddling with the end of his shirt. “I think you’re great and I just need you to know that if you ever need anything, I’ll be more than happy to help. I would do whatever it would take to make you happy because you have a really nice smile and I don’t think you should lose that.” His heart echoes and his smile is gentle and nervous. “Thank you for being with me.”

You stare at him and he wonders if he had overstepped only to gasp when you bury yourself against his chest, patting at his shoulder and pulling away with a hand covering the lower half of your face. “Solomon,” his name leaving your lips sends a jolt of electricity through him, “I’m glad. Thank you,” you whisper. Your hand reaches to pull his away from his shirt and you hold it in yours. “I like being with you too. Us humans have to stick together, right?” You say softly, letting your fingers run over his scarred knuckles.

He nods silently and leans over, his lips pressed against your forehead. “Yeah, us humans have to stick together,” he whispers against you, smiling when he feels your own lips against his knuckles. He’s with you, at this very moment, he stands in a kitchen with music playing, holding you close to him, and for a moment, he can pretend that this won’t ever end, that he won’t ever have to move away from you and risk losing you.

[sunder-soul]

PROMPT 1: Hellooooooo! First off ur writing goes off, second off listen to this idea that i truly think u can bring to life... reader n tom r in a relationship and someone tried to slip tom to love potion but ofc he doesn't fall for it and his gf is like ??? and then they rub their relationship in her face LOL. anyways no worried just thought this would slap! Admire u n ur work!!

PROMPT 2: hey i love your the last of your rules series and everything else you’ve written. i’m not very creative so idk what exactly i’m looking for plot wise i just trust you since everything you’ve written is good but i was wondering if maybe you could write a tom x ravenclaw reader please. the ravenclaw reader tends to be more emotionally reserved and isn’t big on physical affection and maybe tom finds that interesting in a way? idk this idea might suck but felt like asking anyways...

Decided to combine these two because I could see them working really well together… :D

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Retribution

Summary: After somebody tries to slip Tom a love potion to break up him and Ravenclaw Reader’s relationship, they get a little bit theatrical in response...

Wordcount: 1.8k

Content warning: none.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Good morning,” says Tom evenly, lifting a wide-brimmed cup to his lips and taking an even sip as he looks at you.

“Is it?” you say dryly, sitting down opposite him at the Slytherin table and pulling out the new Magical Theory textbook. “Have you looked over this yet?”

“I have,” Tom replies with a very small smile. “Not to your liking?”

“Sophus writes like it’s still the seventeenth century,” you say with a shake of your head, “which isn’t surprising considering I don’t think he included a single reference from the last two hundred years… I mean honestly –” you wave at the title on the front of the book, “– ‘Corpus Magikus?’ Even the title makes it sound ancient.”

“Did you have any criticisms about the actual content per chance?” Tom asks as he lifts his tea again – though it doesn’t quite hide the amused smile on his lips. “Or did you not manage to get past the articulation?”

You give him a look. “The articulation is just as important as the content.”

“I completely disagree,” he replies easily, his cup clinking as he rests it back on its saucer, “regardless of how it is written, his points are extremely sophisticated.”

“I’m not talking about the quality of his points, I’m talking about how well he makes them accessible,” you say at once, picking up a piece of toast and buttering it lightly, “he can have the best criticisms of Magical Theory in the world and no one will care if they can’t understand what he’s saying.”

Tom arches a brow and leans forward on the table, resting on his forearms. “You’re placing the responsibility of understanding an argument on the person presenting it, and not the person receiving it,” he says fluidly, “personally when I find something difficult to understand, I take it as an indicator that I need to return to the topic after better preparing myself.”

“That works fine as an individualistic perspective,” you reply at once, leaning forward to match him, “but a book isn’t written for an individual, is it? It’s written for an audience. A book like this is measured by how wide an audience it can reach, meaning the responsibility is half on him to write accessibly, and half on the audience to go away and fill the holes in our own understanding. That’s when information is dispersed most effectively.”

“Your priority is the dispersion of information as a whole and not the expansion of your personal field of knowledge, and that is the crux of our differing opinion,” Tom says, sitting up straighter and tilting his head calmly.

“I am very aware,” you say dryly, “but you shouldn’t dismiss the importance of charisma when it comes to spreading information. After all, academics aren’t exactly known to be the most charismatic people most of the time, so you end up with intelligent, useful tomes that are utterly incomprehensible to most people –” you nod at the text again, “whilst compelling idiotic drivel is widely consumed.”

The Daily Prophet lands with a thump on your breakfast plate as the delivery owl swoops away with a mournful hoot, and you share a pointed, very wry look with Tom.

Tom breathes a little laugh and laces his fingers around his cup. “So you’re not looking forward to Magical Theory, then.”

“I am,” you amend, frowning, “I just hope the class follows more like Waffling’s work than this.”

“Of course you like Waffling,” Tom smirks, lifting his cup, “he effectively writes in verse –”

Tom suddenly freezes, his brow furrowing lightly. You raise a brow at his sudden reaction. “What?”

He looks down at his tea, still frowning.

“Tom?” you prompt, bemused.

“Someone has attempted to drug me,” he says in complete seriousness, looking up at you.

You stare back, bewildered. “Is… is this more Tom humour?” you ask after a moment, “you seriously need more practice at making jokes, Tom, you really are terrible at it –”

“I’m not joking,” Tom interrupts crisply.

Your scrutiny drops to the cup in his hand. “How can you tell?”

“My tea smells like you.”

Your brows raise. “Excuse me?”

“My tea,” he repeats evenly, his dark eyes coming alight with a flicker of amusement as he leans closer, his cup still in one hand, “rather suddenly smells like you. I can only assume someone has managed to slip Amortentia into my cup sometime during this conversation.”

You blink at him. “Oh,” you say simply.

Tom’s lips curve into a more defined smirk at your expression.

“Well who’s trying to drug you then?” you ask quickly, looking away.

“An excellent question,” he says silkily, eyes still on you. “Their motive is hardly a mystery, so that should narrow it down.”

You roll your eyes and level him with a flat look. “Nothing could narrow it down less, Tom,” you drawl, “half the school is in love with you, and the other half is in denial about being in love with you.”

Tom arches a brow and looks very pleased with himself. “Should I drink it and we can find out?” he asks in amusement, lifting the cup.

You huff a laugh and take a bite of your toast. “Go on then, but don’t expect any sympathy from me when you’re pouring your heart out to some random stranger in front of the whole school a minute from now.”

His hand freezes with the rim of his cup an inch from his mouth, amusement faltering.

“That’s what I thought,” you smirk. “If you want to play it that way you’re going to have to be smarter than that.”

“Oh?” he asks, dark eyes narrowing. “And what would you suggest?”

“If someone drugged you during this conversation then they’re probably watching for your reaction,” you say casually around bites of your toast, “so just look out for someone who’s waiting for you to dramatically break up with me.”

“According to you, that would be the entire school,” Tom mutters, looking significantly more disgruntled than before.

A grin slowly builds on your face. “That was nearly a real joke, Tom,” you say ironically, “Merlin you’ve come so far…”

He shoots you a flat glare and you snicker. “Alright, sorry, I’ll stop – look, if I storm out of here looking upset and you act all conflicted and brooding for the rest of the day, whoever it was will probably try to come talk to you.”

“How theatrical,” Tom deadpans.

You shrug. “Do you want to know who drugged you or not?”

His eyes remain on yours for a moment, and then he lifts the tea to his lips. You watch him pretend to drink, your eyes lingering on the tea glistening on his lips as he lowers the cup.

“Don’t lick your lips,” you say quietly, not quite able to look away.

Tom’s other hand shifts slightly where it’s resting on the table between you, and the tea vanishes both from his lips and the cup. You give him another dry look. “Show off,” you accuse, smiling, “wandless and non-verbal, huh?”

“If you ask nicely, I’ll teach you how to do it,” he smirks.

You huff a laugh and slide Corpus Magikus back into your bag. “I should make my dramatic exit soon,” you say casually, finishing your toast and looking around the hall absently. “Perhaps we should have a fight first.”

“That would make it more convincing, yes,” he says delicately, still looking amused.

“What shall we fight about?"

Tom’s expression immediately cools and he leans in so close that you can see the patterns in his dark irises. “The content doesn’t matter,” he says smoothly, a glimmer in his eyes despite his utterly blank expression, “rather, the articulation.”

You hold his gaze for a second, fighting the urge to smile. You force yourself to stand suddenly, as if he’s said something of great offence. “I’ve never seen you so quickly converted to my opinion, Tom,” you say icily, leaning down to him over the table and hoping it looks like you’re angry.

“You made your argument very convincingly,” Tom says immediately, lifting his chin coolly.

“Actively demonstrating my point, I suppose,” you snap, standing straight. “I’m going to storm out now.”

“I’ll see you in class,” he says dismissively, pouring himself more tea.

You turn on your heel and leave, ignoring the curious eyes following you on your way out and not letting the smile break on your face until you’re well outside the Hall. Now all you have to do is wait.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Amelia Staghart,” Tom says in your ear before swiftly sitting down next to you in Potions that afternoon.

You raise a brow at him, watching as he arranges his Potions kit on the desk – Staghart is sitting a few desks behind you at that very moment and can most definitely see the both of you. “Are we no longer having a fight?”

“I grew tired of that pretence rather quickly,” Tom says curtly.

You smirk. “Did she talk to you?”

“Yes.” He looks decidedly irritated.

“A lot, huh.”

He shoots you a glare and you bite back another smile. “Are you going to report her then?” you ask, writing the date out on your parchment.

“No,” Tom says softly. You glance up curiously at his tone and find his dark eyes watching you write, before they flick up to yours. “I can think of a more pertinent retribution for her to endure,” he finishes quietly, not looking away.

“Retribution?” you echo, arching a brow with a slight smile. “And you accuse me of being theatrical.”

But Tom only leans closer and – to general astonishment – places a very gentle kiss on your cheek. His lips linger soft and warm on your skin for a moment as you’re frozen in place, staring at him as he slowly draws away an inch. His eyes roam your face as you blink in surprise, his lips curving into another humorous smile at your expression when there’s a sudden SMASH from behind you.

The entire class turns from where they’ve been staring wide-eyed at Tom’s display of affection to see Staghart’s inkwell knocked asunder on her desk, spreading black ink across the wood and dripping down to the floor, her eyes wide and her expression thunderstruck as she stares at you.

“Clean that up at once, Staghart!” Slughorn says disapprovingly as he strides into the room. “I certainly hope your clumsiness does not extend through today’s lesson – we’re brewing poisons today, class!”

Staghart goes red as the rest of the students titter and chatter, furiously glaring at the pool of ink dripping into her lap. 

You glance at Tom and share a silent look of amusement before the two of you simultaneously turn back to your notes, still smirking.

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – One // Wanda Maximoff

story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter two

author’s note: here’s the long-awaited first chapter! i do hope you all enjoy!

Also a quick one – Y/B/N = your brother’s name, Y/M/N = your mother’s name and Y/D/N = your dad’s name

"You move anymore and you're gonna hit a waiter."

I gave my brother a disapproving look as he grinned at my dismay. "Easy for you to say. You're wearing a suit and not a dress that's heavier than your body."

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Y/N, you complain too much. Look where we are! You need to learn to enjoy yourself."

Taking a look around the room, I saw a hall filled with people I didn't know mingling with one another. Flutes of champagne were on almost every hand and laughter filled the air as everybody enjoyed their evening, soaking in the luxuries of a ball somebody I didn't know was hosting. Orchestral music was drowned out by conversations and servers moved through the hall like mice, scuttling around and constantly topping up champagne. I wasn't a fan, as usual.

"Are you both ready? Your father is bringing the Maximoffs here any second," my mother's voice grabbed my attention. "Y/N, at least try to look happy to be here." 

I forced a smile, making her give me a knowing look before looking to my brother and fixing his tie.

"You both know how important this is," she told us for the millionth time, fussing over my brother's appearance. "They're expecting–"

"Well-behaved, respectful individuals," I finished for her. "We know, mum. You've told us only a gazillion times."

She pressed her lips together, hands on her hips as her eyes fell to me, displeased. "If this engagement is to go as planned, I need you on your best behaviour."

"I'm always on my best behaviour," I reassured her. "But okay. I'll lighten up."

"Thank you," she said with a grateful smile, before glancing over her shoulder. "Okay. Here they come. Smiles, please."

My brother looked to me, showing me his teeth. "Is there anything in my teeth?"

I cracked a smile to make myself feel better. "Gums."

He gave me a disappointed look. "You know men don't like women who are smart arses." 

I rolled my eyes at his comment, knowing men didn't like women who didn't like men. But, of course, I didn't say that.

All her and my dad had been talking about for the past few weeks was this engagement. My brother, a very successful author, was to be engaged to his publisher's twin sister, some girl called Wanda. The Maximoffs were an esteemed family and their unification with ours was in everyone's best interests, especially my brother's who was one of the most eligible bachelors in the city.

I didn't know much about the Maximoffs, only that their son and my brother's 'boss', if you will, Pietro, ran a successful publishing house. It had been in their family name since their parents emigrated to England from Sokovia when Pietro and Wanda were children. They'd built themselves up from nothing and were now high members of society, the perfect family to be involved with.

Y/B/N was to be engaged to Wanda, their daughter, since she was getting to that age where they wanted to find someone for her. My brother's name was put into the mix when Pietro recommended him and the rest was history.

Tonight was the first unofficial meeting with them and my mother had been nonstop lecturing me on the dos and don't's of how to act, as if I was a child that couldn’t behave. Of course, it was only a mere greeting. The true engagement was to be proposed tomorrow night, but that didn't matter to my fussy mother who was insistent on making a good impression.

I found myself straightening up and pressing my hands down my dress to rid it of creases as my brother adjusted his blazer. The Maximoffs were being led our way by my father, the four of them all with smiles on their lips and flutes of champagne in their hands.

"Dear, I would like to introduce you to Mr and Mrs Maximoff and their lovely children, Pietro and Wanda," my dad introduced, stopping before us, before looking to the Maximoffs. "This is my family. My wife, Y/M/N, and my children, Y/N and Y/B/N."

"Please, call me Oleg and my wife Iryna," the twins' father, Oleg, said with a kind smile. He held out his hand to my mother, adding, "It's a pleasure, Y/M/N."

They shook hands and then looked to my brother and I, exchanging quick greetings with us. As they were saying something to my brother, probably gushing over his writing as everyone did, I took a look at the quiet twins behind them.

I vaguely recognised the guy and his striking silver hair from my brother's work, knowing he was Pietro. But I'd never seen the girl before and knew immediately that if I had, I wouldn't forget her face. She was stunning, it didn't take a genius to see that. But not the stunning that you glanced once at and forgot about. No, she was the stunning that knocked the breath out of you and made you forget what your name was.

"...lovely to meet you again!" my brother was saying all the right things to impress his soon-to-be in-laws, but it went over me as I found myself unable to tear my gaze from this mystery woman.

Further introductions went on in the background, before the green eyes I was so enthralled with were looking my way, making me blink suddenly. I instantly looked away, afraid I'd been caught, and zoned back into the conversation that was taking place.

"It's great to finally put a name to a face," the girl, Wanda, was saying to my brother with a honey sweet smile and sultry Russian-accented voice, and judging by his expression, he was just as caught up in her beauty as I was. "I look forward to getting to know you more."

"And I you," he returned with his signature grin.

Her eyes fell to mine once again, lips curving into an amused smile. "And of course, Y/B/N's beautiful sister, Y/N. How lucky a man he must be to have a sister as stunning as you."

The others chuckled, clearly taken by Wanda's smooth way with words. In their eyes, it was flattery at its finest. After all, she was to be welcomed into our family and sucking up to the sister was the best way forward. But I guess, I'd like to believe that there was some truth to her words as her entrancing green eyes sparkled with delight.

"You don't need to win over my sister to get on my good side," Y/B/N joked before I could speak, stealing Wanda's attention away momentarily.

She suppressed a laugh, tilting her head as she studied him with an unreadable expression, before looking to me with curious eyes.

"Thank you for your kind words, Wanda," I finally said to her, offering a small smile.

"Anytime," she quipped, biting her lip to contain her smile.

It was oh so wrong of me to even slightly check her out as she did, knowing that it was not only inappropriate since she was to be my brother's bride, but also wrong since she was a girl and I wasn't supposed to do this. A heat crept up neck as I avoided her teasing gaze, wondering if she knew what she was doing or if she was just a naturally flirty person.

"I'm Pietro," her brother spoke, making me look up again. He was directing a charming smile my way as he continued, "It's an honour to finally meet my best author's younger sister."

I put out my hand for him to shake, but he simply grabbed it and pressed a gentle kiss to the top. I flushed at the contact, a nervous smile on my lips.

"Er, it's nice to meet you, too, Pietro," I returned, subtly wiping my hand when he let go of it.

The twins stood side by side, smiling our way, and I realised just why all the chatter in our social circles revolved around them. Charming, distinguished, good-looking – they were the whole package.

Our parents continued to talk, catching up and talking about stuff I didn't care much for. Every now and then, Y/B/N would chime in if a question was directed his way, or Pietro would add his two cents, or Wanda would say something funny, and I would pretend to get along with all of them when I so desperately wished to go home and go to sleep.

Admittedly, my eyes veered over to my soon-to-be sister-in-law every now and then, unable to look away. She was drop dead gorgeous, with bright hazel eyes that looked green like the earth at this moment, and long brown hair that was pulled back out of her face, revealing her charming smile. Sometimes, when she would smile really widely, a dimple would expose itself on her left cheek at the corner of her mouth, and I was sure that nothing else was cuter than that. Y/B/N was one lucky man.

"...would love for you all to come to our home tomorrow evening for dinner," my father was inviting them all over, bringing me back to reality. "It'll be a great way to get to know each other in a more intimate setting. And it'll give the kids a better chance to get to know each other."

Iryna smiled brightly. "We would love to, Y/D/N. Tomorrow evening is great."

"Perfect," my mum said excitedly. "We'll see you all then."

"Do enjoy the rest of your evening," Oleg said, looking to us all, before looking to my brother. "And Y/B/N, it was good to meet you tonight. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow."

"You, too, sir," Y/B/N said, shaking his hand with a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Oleg and Iryna gave us all a smile before turning to leave. Pietro and Wanda did the same, though when Wanda's eyes flickered to mine, she waved her fingers slowly and with a playful smile on her lips. My mouth opened slightly, unsure what to do or say, but nobody seemed to notice as she turned and left, leaving me standing there with confusion.

"Well, I think that went well," my mum said, and I tore my gaze from Wanda's retreating form. "Couldn't have gone better actually."

"I agree," my dad said, wrapping an arm around my mum's waist with a smile. "Tomorrow night will be splendid." He looked to Y/B/N. "What did you think of Wanda, son?"

Y/B/N looked like he was on top of the world with his love struck smile and relaxed posture. "She's beautiful. And did you hear that accent? Wonderful."

My mother chuckled. "How sweet. You're already smitten."

"What did you think of her, Y/N?" my brother asked, and all eyes fell to me.

I straightened up. "Oh, I– er– she's very nice. A beautiful young woman."

"Right?" he said in agreement. "I feel like she really likes you, too. How cool is that? You guys can become friends and be, like, close sister-in-laws."

I forced a small smile. "Yeah. Something like that."

Of course, for everyone's benefit, getting along with Wanda Maximoff was the best bet. But something about her was different and I was yet to discover what.

—

The following evening was when we saw the Maximoffs next. As invited, they turned up at our front door dressed less glamorously than last night, given the occasion, but appearing just as excited. Our servants were quick to take their jackets and hang them up elsewhere as we exchanged greetings in the hall.

The Maximoff parents were genuinely kind and humbling people to be around, I'd come to learn that when they thanked our servants for their help and asked them how their day was, making friendly chatter. Not many people did that when entering our home – it was certainly refreshing to see. They greeted Y/B/N and I kindly before moving onto our parents.

The Maximoff children were just as kind, though with a hint of mischief in their stride as they moved to greet my brother and I. Pietro approached me first, lips pulling into a smile as he bowed playfully. In the corner of my eye, I could see Wanda and Y/B/N exchanging greetings.

"It's a pleasure to be in your presence yet again, Y/N," Pietro said generously. "You look lovely this evening."

A smile appeared on my lips at his kind eyes. "Thank you, Pietro. You look very handsome this evening also."

"Apparently it's lamb for dinner, is that true?" he asked, taking me by surprise. I wasn't sure if he was serious, but when his sister slapped him on the arm, I figured he was.

"Don't be greedy, Piet," she scolded him like this was a regular thing.

"What? It was a simple question," he said with a shrug, before looking to my brother with a grin. "Ah, Y/B/N Y/L/N, my favourite writer."

As he moved over to greet him, Wanda looked over to me with a knowing smile.

"It's good to see you again," she said softly, maintaining eye contact.

"You, too," I played along with whatever was happening, the usual script at a time like this. "I'm sure tonight will be something special for you and my brother. It's good to have you here."

She tilted her head intimidatingly. "Bol'shoye tebe spasibo."

I raised my eyebrows, intrigued by her ability to change languages so smoothly. Though, it made sense since she was Sokovian, making Russian her first language. Didn't make it any easier to not be attracted to though.

"I'm sorry," I apologised. disguising my attraction with genuine confusion. "What does that mean?"

She smiled, a hint of smugness present as she answered, "Thank you very much. That's what it means."

I pressed my lips together, humming in response. She held my gaze for a second longer than usual and I wanted to look away, but I was drawn in by the beautiful golden flecks swirled into her irises, captivating and chilling all at once. She didn't seem uncomfortable with the eye contact, instead revelling in it with a content smirk when she saw me squirm. I ended up looking away first, unable to hold a pretty girl's gaze for more than a few seconds without panicking.

"I have something to show you!" my brother was saying excitedly to Pietro. "It's in my study, c'mon."

The two of them wandered off before my mum could stop them.

"Don't be too long, boys!" she called after them, before sighing and looking to Wanda and I. "Y/N, dear, why don't you show Wanda around upstairs, maybe? Hopefully the boys should be back after that and we can all eat dinner together."

I swallowed hard, glancing at a still-smirking Wanda, before looking back to my mum. "Erm, are you sure?"

"Yes, yes, go on, it'll give you ladies a chance to get to know each other better!" she insisted, before ushering me away. "Don't take too long though. Dinner will be ready soon."

Licking my lips nervously, I nodded, watching my mum return to the conversation my dad and Wanda's parents were having. They were led into the living room as Wanda and I were left standing in the hall, her waiting for me to say something.

"This way, I guess," I got out awkwardly, purposely avoiding her eyes as I motioned to the grand staircase.

"After you," she said politely, and I said nothing as I took the lead.

I ended up showing her around the upstairs rooms, including the library we had and the many guest rooms. It was a big home with lots to show for it, so the tour wasn't too boring.

Wanda stayed quiet throughout it, sometimes dropping in a comment or question every now and then, but otherwise listening intently as I explained everything as interestingly as I could. When she did speak, she would leave me fumbling for words or forgetting how to speak altogether. I wondered if she was teasing me on purpose, wanting to get a rise out of her soon-to-be sister-in-law, or if she just wasn't aware of what she was doing.

But every time her mischievous gaze fell to me with a matching smile, I knew that she had to be aware of her actions. Nobody was that teasing without wanting to be. So, that led me to my next question. Why?

Eventually, the last room on the tour was my bedroom. I stepped inside first, holding the door open for her as she followed after and looked around with amusement.

"This is your room," she stated, feet taking her further inside as she took in the appearance of my desk, my bed and my wardrobe. "Fascinating."

I was curious to know what she meant by that, but realising that this woman was an enigma in more ways than one, I knew she wouldn't give me a straight answer. So, I said nothing as I followed after her, remaining close as she soaked in my belongings.

Stopping at my desk, her eyes gazed over the papers spilling from closed notebooks, books marked with string and pens littered across the wood. Thankfully, nothing was open and she didn't seem to be the nosy type, so had no intention of going through anything.

"I see you like writing," she noticed, fingers hovering above the notebooks but not quite making a move to touch them. "Runs in the family, doesn't it?"

"I guess," I said, unsure what she wanted to hear.

She looked up at me, smile tugging at her lips. The same damned smile that had been directed at me since she got here.

"Do you write like your brother?"

I tried not to laugh. "More like he writes like me."

She watched me closely, amusement dancing in her eyes. "He's the author in the family."

I mirrored her smile, though mine was fake. "Published author, love. Doesn't make him the only one."

A chuckle flew from her lips as she looked across my messy desk again, clearly not offended by the hint of annoyance in my voice. I shouldn't have been so offended by her words – she didn't know anything about me – but it always ground my gears when people stuck up for Y/B/N like he was God's gift.

"Do you write?" I asked, half interested and half wanting to change the subject. The least I could do was try to get to know her a little better.

"I prefer painting," she answered without mischief. "It's my favourite thing to do."

Her eyes lit up at the mere mention of art, but she did a good job at reigning it in. She was still studying the books on my desk, distracting herself with the spines instead of facing me.

"And what do you like to paint?" I asked, genuinely interested now that I was beginning to see her actually fond of something that didn't involve making me flustered.

She shrugged, but I knew it was a pretence. "Scenery. Landscapes. We have a beautiful garden at home and it's a pleasure to paint." She finally met my eyes again, a smile of adoration on her lips as she continued talking about the garden. "The flowers, the trees, the little pond we have. It's the perfect subject."

The smile that appeared on my lips was automatic as her passion for her hobby was contagious. The way her whole face lit up, eyes bright with excitement and lips unable to do anything but smile, was intoxicating and I tried not to get lost in the moment. It was true though, what people said. Nobody looked more beautiful than when talking about something they loved.

"I’d love to see your work sometime," I told her earnestly.

Playfulness returning, she hummed in agreement. "Only if I can see yours."

I laughed, looking down at my shoes. "Maybe not."

"Well, that's a shame," she said, still playful, though when I looked up, I almost believed her.

She did that thing again, where she stared at me and held my gaze as if reading my innermost private thoughts. Intimidating wasn't the word, yet it was the only one in my mind as I watched her attempt to decipher me. Clearing my throat, I looked away, suddenly aware of how close she was stood.

"So, my brother," I changed the subject yet again, noticing the entertained expression she wore. "You like him?"

"We are to be engaged, are we not?" she asked with a quirked brow, like the answer was obvious.

I hid the smile from my lips. "That's not what I asked, love."

She licked her lips, pursing them as she saw what I was trying to do. My eyes were immediately drawn to her mouth as she did, and I almost forgot to look away until she started speaking again.

"My parents arranged this," she admitted, not losing composure. "Y/B/N is a gentleman and he seems like a kind man."

I noticed how she still avoided answering the question, but decided not to say anything about it. My eyes studied her curiously though, wondering why exactly she'd agreed to the marriage then. Maybe it was a sense of duty, like every woman had nowadays. Eventually my time would come too and maybe I would be stuck in the same position as her.

"I adore his writing though," she added, like she needed to say something genuine to make up for her lack of answer.

"You and every other woman in the city," I mumbled knowingly.

Wanda let out a breathy laugh. "I'm aware of his many admirers, yes, but can you blame them? He has such a fantastic way with words. And don't get me started on that first piece he ever wrote..." Her eyes rolled back with satisfaction. "It's my favourite. I had no idea who he was back then, but the words he wrote were enough to make me fall in love. I guess it's convenient that my new husband is to be your brother, the author."

I crossed my arms as I leaned against the desk, trying not to break out into laughter. Not because of Wanda's words – they were actually quite sweet – but because of the whole situation. It was hilarious to me, since I was the reason Y/B/N got his big break as a writer anyway.

Following in our father's footsteps, Y/B/N wrote manuscript after manuscript with hopes of getting published. But unfortunately, he never got anywhere with it. I was also a writer, having been taught by my father like Y/B/N when I was a young girl, but unlike him, I was told to stop when I got older because it was 'unladylike' and 'not a woman's place'. That didn't stop me however, and I continued to write like no tomorrow.

Y/B/N's big break, and the first manuscript of his that got published by Pietro – ironically the one that Wanda was discussing right now – was written by me. I gave it to my brother, hoping he could get inspiration. He ended up sending that in and getting signed because of my work. And even now, I occasionally helped him work on pieces that otherwise wouldn't see the light of day.

But nobody wanted to hear about the young, unmarried woman who writes about other women like they are God's best creation. So, Y/B/N keeps the fame and credit whilst I write in private, unable to share any of my work with the world unless it's in excerpts of my brother's books with his name on the front cover.

"That first piece was pretty good, wasn't it?" I played along with Wanda's words, a hint of bitterness in my tone of voice.

Wanda studied me up and down, teasing smile tugging at her lips. "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, milaya."

I hummed in acknowledgement, feigning a smile in response, though I wasn't sure what that last word meant. Probably another Russian term she was using to throw me off. Of course she'd assume I was jealous of my brother's recognition. She didn't know the truth and she never could. She was also to marry my brother, the perfect author, soon; my bitter state was merely a jealous sibling and maybe it was easier to let her think that way.

"Dinner should be ready now," I told her, straightening up. "Let's head down."

She followed after me and I said nothing else as I led her back downstairs, trying not to think about how much of an ego-boost this dinner would be for my brother.

There was nothing better than hearing everyone gush over the work your brother took credit for that you actually did, right?

"Ah, ladies, perfect timing!" said my mum when we reached the dining room where everyone was taking their seats. "Please, sit and we can get started. It's a lovely roast from the kitchen tonight."

As I made my way to my usual seat opposite my brother, I saw Pietro fist-pump the air at the mention of the lamb roast, making Wanda roll her eyes and me smile at his action. Y//B/N took his seat and Wanda's parents seemed to take the two chairs beside him already. My parents took to each end of the table, leaving the Maximoff twins no choice but to sit beside me. I sat at the same spot as usual, at the edge of the table so my left-handed self wouldn't bother whoever was sat beside me, and take a lucky guess to who sat on my right.

"Wanda, dear, how was your tour?" my mum asked her as she got comfortable beside me, leg and shoulder almost touching mine and making me both nervous and disgruntled.

With a grin wide enough to impress my mother, she answered, "It was great. You have a beautiful home, Mrs Y/L/N. And Y/N was a lovely host."

At that last comment, I felt her eyes glance towards me and I wondered if she was having fun making me squirm because I knew for sure that I was anything but a lovely host.

"That's reassuring to hear," my mother responded as the food was brought out and placed in the centre of the table. She seemed like she was joking, but I knew she was just glad I'd been on my best behaviour. "And please, call me Y/M/N."

Wanda nodded gratefully as my dad began to cut into the roast. Food was served up and drinks were poured as everybody began to dig in. The Maximoffs sent their compliments to the chef, admired our home and were the perfect guests, just as they were expected to be. My family complimented Wanda and Pietro's manners, talked about how business was going and laughed at every joke Oleg and Iryna uttered, just as they were expected to be. It really was a picture-perfect scene and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Okay, maybe I was acting a little cynical. The Maximoffs weren't that bad, at least not as bad I'd assumed they would be compared to my parents' other friends. They were down-to-Earth and humbled people, a welcoming change from the usual. I just hated forced dinners and being scrutinised under my mother's eyes to behave, hence the clipped attitude.

And just on cue, the topic steered towards something lovely.

"We can't forget to talk about Y/B/N, bestselling author over here!" Oleg beamed, motioning to my brother. "I have to admit, son, I'm amazed at your writing. You clearly have your father's talent."

My brother smiled bashfully as I watched on with narrowed eyes and a tight grip on my fork.

"You flatter me," he said, but Iryna shook her head.

"I have to agree with my husband here, Y/B/N," she said. "Your writing is superb. Pietro, obviously, loves it, and Wanda is a huge fan, too."

At this, my brother glanced towards Wanda with excited eyes and she merely smiled and looked elsewhere, either embarrassed to be mentioned or playing coy. Rolling my eyes came naturally at this point.

"Tell me, how did you think of what to write for that first book?" Iryna asked with intrigue. "It was my favourite one."

Ah, yes, the first book. Apparently everyone's favourite one.

"Oh, it's best not to bring all that up–"

"I'd actually like to know, too," Wanda cut him off, her curiosity getting the better of her as she leaned forward onto the palm of her hand and watched him under long eyelashes.

I couldn't keep the smile of delight from my face as I too leaned forward curiously, eyeing my brother. "Yes, dear, brother. Please, do tell us of how you came to write such an honest, heartfelt first book."

At this, I felt both my parents send me a warning look as they knew the truth. But neither of the Maximoffs noticed as their attention was solely on my brother.

Luckily for him, he was a great liar and he smiled his charming smile and nodded, looking between the four guests.

"I guess it started after my third failed manuscript," he began, very believably. "I realised that there was something missing from my pages. Something real and genuine. Something that would appeal to my readers and make them question just how much they were appreciating their partner, you know?"

As he rambled off into another literary spout of nonsense, my smile faded and I gritted my teeth, wondering how he'd gotten so good at lying without giving away a sliver of pretence. The Maximoffs were hanging onto his every word, fascinated by the mind of a writer. I tried not to let it get to me as he butchered the meaning behind everything I had written in that first novel. Some things were better left unsaid.

When he finished, questions were fired his way and my parents watched on with pride in their eyes, as he answered them with ease. I chose to stay quiet, as usual, letting him soak in the credit for something he didn't do.

"And what do you think, Y/N?" Wanda's voice included me in the conversation, and everybody's eyes fell to me. I was only looking at her as her lips were pulled into a wide, suggestive smile and she continued, "How is it being the sister of one of today's bestselling authors?"

The usual forced smile that accompanied my lips whenever talking about Y/B/N because present, but my eyes were questioning Wanda's as she was clearly trying to get a rise out of me yet again, especially now that she assumed I was jealous of her husband-to-be's fame. Her stupid beautiful smile and stupid pretty eyes and stupid attractive accent were all taunting me.

"It makes me proud to know that he's come so far from when we were younger," I said, and though I was irritated by the way it had happened, my words weren't entirely false. "He's a talented man and he clearly has a way with words. What more is there to say?"

The elders seemed touched by my words and when I looked over the table to meet my brother's gaze, I saw the gratitude in his expression, hiding behind his smile and reserved for me. I nodded subtly, letting him know I was happy to keep his secret as long as he wished, just like we'd agreed.

Chatter and compliments soon turned to the real reason for our presence – the engagement. I tucked into my dessert as I let them talk about dates for the engagement party, logistics for guests and all the other details I could care less about. Only when my brother mentioned my name did I look up, surprised to see all eyes on me yet again.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I asked politely, glancing around.

"Y/N, honey, lay off the chocolate cake, will you?" my mum said with a smile that I knew was code for 'put the bloody fork down'.

I forced a smile of my own as I lowered my fork and sat up straight, very ladylike, and looked to my brother.

"I was saying how I'll be sure to pick a beautiful engagement ring for Wanda here," he no-doubt repeated for my sake. "And maybe you could help me choose, to make sure it's something she may like."

A genuine sarcastic smile broke out on my lips, though not because I was interested in ring shopping with my brother. I knew absolutely nothing about dear Wanda or her taste in jewellery, but a woman was to do what she was best at – shopping! So, without sharing my true thoughts on the situation, I nodded respectfully and hummed in agreement.

"Of course," I said what everybody wanted to hear. "I'm sure we can find something to suit Wanda's taste."

Everybody resumed chatter about the wedding as I sighed quietly and got back to my cake. My right hand rested by my side and I jumped, startled when I made contact with Wanda's fingers.

"Sorry," I apologised, moving my hand a little from hers but keeping it there. "Left-handed an' all. I tend to forget."

Green eyes pierced through me with a matching sly smile. "No problem, milaya."

Again with the 'milaya' talk – what did that even mean? I returned the awkward smile as I continued eating, but I didn't fail to notice the way her hand would brush against mine throughout the rest of the meal.

Either by accident or on purpose, I'd never know, but I had my suspicions.

[wincestisasincest]

The Barrel - Ch. 1 (LOTR x Reader)

Okay, so time for a fun and sexy take on Modern Girl in Middle Earth that no one asked for - what if the Modern Girl had a gun? I wanted to try and write something where the Modern Girl in question was not completely defenseless, and had a fair amount of experience that the others lacked.

This will be very slow burn, I think.

Chapter: 1

Words: 1452

Warnings: Blood, guns (obviously)

Pairings: None (yet)

The butt of the rifle cracked against your cheek. You bit your tongue, but kept your arms rigid and eyes open. The taste of copper slithered between your teeth.

The orc staggered, his head reeling back with the force of the bullet that had just been lodged into it. His spine arched, and his arms flailed. Before he could catch his balance, his heart finished beating and he collapsed to the ground. Pungent, dark blood oozed into the dirt.

The wizard hardly flinched. His weary, sloped brow and buggish eyes were fixed on you thoughtfully. He tugged a strand of his curly brown beard - the one that had been blanched with bird crap.

You dropped your arms and let the rifle relax into the natural dent of your hands. They were clammy, but the crisp chilliness of the forest kept them from being sweaty. Everything about you, from the fresh redness pooling in your cheeks due to the recoil of the gun to the congested nose you had that made you sniff every couple of minutes, put you on the edge of sickness. And yet, here you were, shambling and corpse-like, but still upright and alive.

You stepped towards the wizard, your eyes occasionally darting back to the orc. You hadn’t registered yet that you were the one who killed it. You’d give it some time.

“Are you Radagast the Brown?”

You kept your voice monotone and deep to not risk exposing the rasp extending up the back of your throat.

“Who’s asking? Friend or foe?”

“Friend. I’m (y/n).”

“No family?”

“None that are around here. I’m, uh, not from here. If it wasn’t already obvious.”

You swayed nervously on your legs. Your combat boots were worn beyond repair, though their gaudy artificial stitching that was loosely holding them together still stuck out like a sore thumb. The black tank top clung to your body, and though you mostly kept it hidden with an oversized jacket, you couldn’t help the occasional peak of bare flesh and tight fabric. Oh, and, of course, your jeans were bright-ass blue and had a leather tag on the back with an impeccably printed logo.

“Indeed,” the wizard nodded, “I’ve never seen a bow quite like that before.”

You neither. This whole shooting business was about as new as Middle Earth. When you had woken up in a small pile of freshly fallen leaves, the gun, along with a few packages of ammo, were about 10 feet from your stiff body. You hadn’t dared to practice anything besides loading and unloading the gun, lest you run out of ammo in the middle of your hour of need. You had abstained from counting, knowing that it would just make you more nervous.

“Yeah...” you trailed, “but anyway, I know you don't know me, but you know Gandalf, right? He needs help.”

“Help? Now, there’d have to be something mighty strong that could get that old goat in trouble,” he raised an eyebrow hawkishly.

“Saruman.”

“Saruman? Well now, that can’t be.”

“He’s working with Sauron. Looking for the ring, and-”

“Hush!” he finally broke eye contact with you and warily scanned the tops of the trees. Nothing but a wall of silence.

“The forest... it’s quiet. Someone is listening. Come, come. Matters like these ought to be discussed inside,” he turned around and waved for you to follow, hustling in between long, imposing trunks that looked like they were ready to fall on you and crush the life out of you at any second.

******

You had killed the moth. Not on purpose, of course. You seemed to have fallen on it after you crashed through the sky of Middle Earth.

You could remember hearing its screams. You rolled over, looking for the source, grinding the roots further into your ribcage. When you finally saw the tiny thing flitting on the ground, trying to get your attention, you dumbly watched its crushed wings and snapped legs twitch with jolts of desperation.

“I have a message! A message for Radagast the Brown! Friend of the Eagles! You must take it in my stead - it is urgent. The fate of Gandalf the Gray depends on it.”

You said nothing, barely able to keep yourself conscious as you rapidly inhaled and expelled stilted breaths.

“Gandalf the Gray was betrayed by former friend Saruman the White. He is on top of the tower Orthanc, in Isengard, dying with each passing moment. He dispatched me to tell Radagast to seek out the aid of the Eagles - he fears that they may be his only chance at rescue from the tower.”

“Are... are you real?” you finally sputtered.

“I am alive, but not for much longer. My strength fails me. But you must go. Follow along the edge of Mirkwood until you find the brown wizard. The fate of Gandalf, and perhaps the realm, may depend on you. Please, time is of the essence. You must leave.”

The creature’s mouth never moved. You never heard the sound of its voice. But you felt the words in your head, bouncing around there after being injected by some foreign source. The moth pointed its head straight at you.

“Please. It does not matter who you are - your future depends on the knowledge that only Gandalf holds.”

A throbbing pain blossomed in the back of your head, just under your neck. The moth flitted its wings once more, and then the telepathic force that had been drilling into your skull blinked out.

You took a long sip of murky liquid in a cracked glass teacup. Warmth stirred in your void of a stomach, which you had been trying to ignore.

“My word. Then it is true. Saruman has turned to the darkness,” Radagast said to no one in particular. He looked out the window, as if waiting for the silhouette of his friend to appear over the horizon, completely fine.

“I’m sorry,” was all that you could say.

He turned to you, eyes still flickering with life but in danger of going out.

“So am I,” he said grimly, “but, no matter. Gandalf was right. The Eagles are his only chance of salvation from a place as wicked as Isengard. I’ll get the message to them at once.”

He looked at his feet. You couldn’t actually recall much about Radagast from the books - you knew more about how low of an opinion Saruman had of him. But the look of despair that was settling deep within his chest was a grave reminder that he was just as capable of complex thought as anyone else.

You realized that you had just seen a man accept that there would be war on their hands, and that there was nothing he could do to avoid it.

“It will be alright in the end,” you found yourself saying.

Finally, he looked up at you sadly.

“I know. The world will always be okay in the end. And I, who have lived many years and will live many more, will be around to see it. But what will happen to everyone in between?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, “but in the meantime we’ll just... do our best to protect them. That’s all we can do, right?”

You tilted the edge of your lips up, not quite forming a grin but far from the hopeless neutrality that you had carried with you into the house. He analyzed you, squinting his eyes and pursing his lips, not caring if you noticed.

“Who are you?”

“I’m (y/n).”

“A person is more than their name, especially one such as you.”

“I’m nobody important to this world. I don’t belong here.”

“And yet here you are. You’ve become somebody important,” he scratched his chin, “this appears to be beyond me, but I suggest that you consult with Gandalf. You’re already heading in his direction anyway.”

“What?”

“I’m sending you with the Eagles. The fellow will be in a mighty poor condition when you find him, it’d be irresponsible for me to send him back all by himself. And besides, you seem like a useful person to know.”

He smiled coyly. Your mind buzzed.

“There must be someone else that you can send?”

“Nope. Well, no one humann, anyway. One of the quirks of dedicating your being to the plants and the animals. Now, on you get! I can hear them circling overhead.”

You had no idea how he had summoned the Eagles, and at this point, you were almost too afraid to ask. You gritted your teeth and let your stomach do a cartwheel as you realized that you were about to come to terms with your fear of heights in the worst way possible.

So be it.

[lokilickedme]

New banner!  Temporary because obviously I can do better than that, but I was in a hurry and the mood struck me.

As some of you know, I’ve been busy lately.  Like, fell off the edge of the world busy.  Something about packing up one’s entire life and hauling it (along with two children and two cats) 1200 miles away from where you started has a tendency to force everything into a holding pattern while you focus on keeping everyone alive.  Arriving in the middle of a blizzard doesn’t help.  Having your housing fall through also doesn’t help.  But our temporary accommodations are serving well both in terms of having a place to live for a while *and* providing inspiration that’s been sadly lacking since the stress of the relocation took over all my available headspace, so here’s to refraining from complaining and getting my ass back on the wagon.  (No I haven’t become an alcoholic but don’t delude yourself for one second assuming I haven’t thought real good and damn hard about it)

Long story short, we’re here, we’re once again headed toward closing on a new house, we landed slightly off center of where we’d intended but as it turns out the detour put us in a better place, and though I’m still without my computer (WHERE IS IT?!?!?!) I do have a tablet with a very stripped down edition of my writing files.  So away we go.

Rancho de La Luna

This is new, for those of you who haven’t been paying attention :P  Inspired directly by the place we’re staying temporarily and featuring my personal favorite faceclaims as a team of capable but quarrelsome cowboys at a tourist ranch beleaguered by problems, including a new arrival with a penchant for fibbing about her skills.  Just for funsies, because why not.  I hope to update it pretty often for a little while, until I run out of steam or start to get bored or *gasp!* actually finish it.  Watch for potential unscheduled updates.

The Empty Arms Hotel

Gonna pick back up on this one again soon before I forget what the big deal is with the tenants.  Whipplefilter finally got to bang somebody besides the desk clerk so he’s a happy camper, but the Traveler isn’t sure he wants to do that again...yeah no he’s totally gonna do that again because like the woman at the front desk said, once that tall slurp of poisoned Kool Aid goes down on you there’s not a single thing in your sad sorry excuse for a life that will EVER measure up again.  The third floor resident got it in gallons.  Weirdness is still afoot, though...that storm has gone off the bejeezus scale and doesn’t appear to have plans other than eventually wiping the entire planet off the solar system’s map.  So - more degenerate sex while we wait for that, anyone?  Yes please.

The Money Shot

Will get back to this one later - and since Momoa is divorced now, you can probably safely assume meat’s back on the menu.  Ohhhh yeah.  Don’t expect an update anytime soon though, there’s other stuff I’d much rather be working on than this silly little vanity piece.  Even with Momoa fresh on the market.

The House Next Door

My favorite - this one will update again soon.  I’m not as frantic to get it done as I was when I was living the actual nightmare that inspired it, but now that that’s over and I can look at it with a clear head, I feel like it’s going to become less of a revenge piece and more of a sweet romance...because Thomas Dowd only *thinks* he’s not crazy about kids, and Carly’s children (particularly Connor) are getting a good solid grip on his heartstrings.  Also there’s Duncan.  God, I love Duncan.  Somebody’s gotta have a redemption arc and since Dowd and Carly are both victims of their circumstances, it’s gonna have to be Dunk.  Things are about to get fun up in this suburban romcom.

The Variant

Again, one that I love but don’t have the headspace for right now.  Once we’re settled good and proper and I have time to watch some Loki-centric stuff and fire up the remotivation thrusters, I’ll finish this one.  I do so love Variant 77.  And Tech Sevensix.  Seven’s personal Loki-love is about to become an angst generator so be ready for that - and do NOT underestimate President Loki’s lust for all things problematic.  Original Loki embarrassed the crap out of him the last time they crossed paths and that’s not going to go unavenged.  Ha!  Loki finally gets to be an avenger!  Wrong Loki and wrong team, but we take what we can get, right?

Shrine Of Your Lies

Yep, gonna finish this one.  The dreamy tone means it hits me when it hits me, so the next time it hits me I’ll hit you with it.  Promise.

Aingeal Ard

KING!!  I’m going to finish this one this year, sooner rather than later, just to have it off the roster and to clear the way for book 4 of The McClary Chronicles.  It would have happened last year, but...well, you know what happened.  And we’re almost done, so once King has his final say, this one wraps up.

Tales From Quarantine

Not sure if I feel like doing any more vignettes for this one.  We’ll see.  I think pandemic fatigue is a thing and I’m not sure all that many of us want to read about other people going through it.  I’m double vaccinated and extremely careful yet I’ve had covid twice, so...kinda had enough.

Sunflower

Tommy and Chloe will have their happy ending, you have my word.  Will it happen this year?  Yeah, I think so.  Hang in there.

The King of All The Rest

I’m going to be honest here, I’d forgotten about this one.  I’d love to get on it because I love me a good fun snarky Loki tale, but it’ll have to wait a bit.

Stop The World (And Melt With You)

This was meant to be my next “big” project, but it got waylaid by The House Next Door and now Rancho de La Luna.  I do plan to start it this year though - fun romps through the backstage side of the music industry are right up my alley and my characters are ready to go.  Stay tuned for a start date on this one once RdLL gets rolling.

Happy Merry Thankschristmas, Chief

This one obviously was intended for a pre-holiday release, but since I was on the road navigating blizzards and staying in motels during that particular timeframe, it sat in drafts unfinished and now all the holidays referenced in the title have passed.  There are two options I’m willing to consider on this followup ficlet to The Department - an off-season release as soon as it’s finished, or I can hang onto it until the holidays roll around again.  Feel free to offer an opinion if you got one.

In fact, opinions are welcomed on everything on this list - sometimes having someone say “I’d love to see this one update first” or whatever can give me just the motivation kick I need to get on it.  Don’t be shy.  I can’t guarantee it’ll work out that way (inspiration and motivation are tricky arbitrary monsters) but I can sure give it a try.

[lexie-cameron8]

hiiiii!!!

Can I get a request for rafe x reader based on the song favorite crime by Olivia Rodrigo please!

I love your writing!

A/n: Uh yes! I hope that this fits what you were expecting! This is where Rafe kills Sheriff Peterkin in season 1.

Summary: Rafe X Reader! Based on the song by Olivia Rodrigo, Favorite Crime! Fluff/Angst I think.

Warnings: light swearing, mentions of murder

Somebody once told me that the worst pain in the world is a broken heart, but they were wrong.

***

"Y/S/N! I know that your on your phone, so when my name pops up on your screen answer-" I went completely quiet, feeling slightly embarrassed when I made eye contact with the blue eyed boy who lived neighborhoods away.

My younger sister, turned around slightly giving me a sarcastic smile.

It was strange to see this boy in this neighborhood, especially on my doorstep.

I'm pretty sure that the light blue polo shirt and the golden ring on his pointer finger gave away the fact that he was definitely on the wrong side of the island, whereas he belonged on Figure Eight.

"What's a Kook doing on our doorstep?" I questioned, cheeked reddening when I realized I had said that out loud.

Y/S/N had stared at me, closing her eyes in my lack of class. "Y'know not all of us Kooks spend all of our time at country clubs...we have other things to do." The boy with the name of, Rafe, had his hands resting on the door frame as he slightly leaned forwards, making him appear slightly shorter than he actually was.

I walked a few steps forwards, taking Y/S/N's spot by the door. That was her queue to leave me to deal with the unexpected visitor.

Before she completely stepped away, a whisper came from her. "Those fucking Kooks don't know when to stop," I simply nodded and whispered back an, 'I know, fucking hate 'em.'

"What does a spoiled little rich boy have to do?" I asked.

Rafe ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek and slightly nodded his head at my 'not really expecting an answer' question. "Well for starters...you." My eyes widened at his confidence, who did he think he was talking to?!

I placed my hand on his chest, pushing him gently out of the door frame while taking a few steps forwards so we were both outside now. Closing the front door of the Pogue-style home, I reached my arms around Rafe's neck, letting my body press against his. "What the hell are you doing here?" I asked him sweetly, our noses barley touching.

"I was in the neighborhood so I thought I'd stop by," He said, leaving his mouth slightly gaped open after he finished speaking. I'm not sure what it was about his sharp k9's showing in his smile, but it was hot.

If only it were that simple. "Rafe you're never just 'in the neighborhood'. What's going on?" I sighed, stepping up on my tip toes to press a quick kiss to his soft, loving lips.

Suddenly, all of the good faded away. Rafe and I were a secret. What was worse than Pogue on Pogue macking? Pogue on Kook macking.

Never in a million years would Rafe be caught with a Pogue, but somehow he made a simple change within himself and his ego.

One big rule that we had was that he was never to come in any close perimeter to my 'house'. It was more than strange to see a Kook in such a poor neighborhood and there was no way nobody would connect the dots.

Despite that rule, he came today, for the first time...ever. That couldn't have been good, right?

Rafe's fingers interlocked, very discretely keeping my body close to him. But, not discreet enough for me to understand what he was trying to do. "It's a small island, somebody's gonna see us." I said. My hands were now over his, practically forcing his fingers apart.

Rafe was still completely silent, he hadn't even answered my question, even the one I actually wanted an answer from. "Rafe...what did you do?" I asked him, seeing the way his eyes were red from some sort of high and mixed with emotion.

"Y/n...I-I need you to understand, okay?" He'd finally taken his turn to speak, but left me utterly confused. "M-My dad was in trouble and I-I saved him." I'd never seen him so broken and emotional.

I stood there just hoping for him to elaborate and explain the whole situation. "My love...what happened?" I gently took my hand and caressed his cheek, letting his face lean into my hands.

“I-I’m…I’m a proactive type of person okay? My dad…he was in trouble a-and I saved him…I saved him y/n.” He sobbed into my hands before I pulled him into a hug at a loss for words.

Rafe’s arms snaked around my waist as his face was buried in the crook of my neck. My eyes teared up at the sound of the sobs that left his mouth, but there was something he wasn’t telling me, I just knew it.

“I killed her.” His voice spoke leaving me breathless. My mouth gaped open, but no words leaving it. The fact that he said ‘her’ scared me. But who? Who could he have possibly killed for his dad?

All of a sudden, his arms loosened. “Please…don’t leave me.” He sobbed.

I put my hand behind his head, pushing him back into my embrace. “I won’t…god don’t ever think that again.” I cried. All the things that everyone had told me about Rafe, they were all real. But they don’t know him, the real him.

***

A broken heart isn't the worst pain in the world, but loosing all just to love one is.

I did everything just so we could be together. I made excuses for you knowing deep down that everyone else was right. Out of all the things you did, I hope I was your favorite crime.