#Oh by experience I mean like how do cigarettes taste like and all that

[lonelysucker7]

Cigarettes out the Window

Pairing: Kaine Parker/Louise Kennedy

Summary: Based on the comic “Spider-Man: The Lost Years” (Specifically issue #3). Kaine Parker remembers his intimate time with detective Louise Kennedy and those cigarettes she never stopped smoking.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Heavy angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, drug references

Not proofread. Wanted to make this after I got inspired by a song. Is it a song fic? Not really, but you could feel the references in here. The fic no one asked but the one I needed haha.

Enjoy!

………………………………………………………………………….

Kaine grew accustomed to the smell of cigarette smoke over the years.

Everywhere he walked, his nose caught the scent of burn wafting in the air from someone smoking in a dark corner. Or someone dangling their hand mindlessly out the window with the stick in their fingers as he swinged through the city.

But every once and then on the top of a rooftop, the highest there could be in Houston he would stare up in the night sky watching the stars glow. And its beauty becomes interrupted by the smell of smoke.

Even at the highest peak, it was always there.

She was there. Louise Kennedy.

A blur of memories that came back to him even in his sleep, startled him awake and he gasped her name out. His mind raced and his eyes searched the darkness of the hotel room and found nothing. Heard nothing.

Kaine would check on the sleeping Aracely, making sure she was alright and unharmed. Then he would leave to hang out on the balcony, taking an overview of the city lights go on and off like little flames in the night.

Nothing would beat their glow except the moon, the stars, the sun and a lighter.

In his own silence he thinks back to those many years ago…

………………………………………………………………………….

“Louise, why do you smoke?”

The half dressed blonde woman looks back over her shoulder towards the man on the couch who called for her attention. Her pink lips stretched to a friendly smile.

“They calm me down from my high. Or at least, feed more pleasure to it.”

The man nods a little, processing her words carefully. He thinks back to their shared kisses of intimacy and the tongue in his mouth swirls a little inside, tasting the faint flavor of smoke. It was sweet and sour.

His mind snaps back to reality as the couch sinks a little and the weight of Louise’s body acknowledges her presence. He can feel himself starting to smile as her head rests on his shoulder. He watches the way her lips move around the stick adjusting it to comfort, and her nose exhaling the smoke from there.

The way she does these things, it’s strange and amusing to him almost. But he can’t help but wrinkle his nose a little and lift a hand to rub the smell away. This action catches Louise’s attention and she leans away from him slightly.

“Oh, sorry about that Kaine.” Her hand comes up to remove and burn out the cigarette on the tray, but her wrist is grabbed gently by him. Kaine shakes his head and assures her.

“Don’t mind me ruining your moment. I’ll get used to it in time.” He offers a faint smile to her. Louise smirks a little in return and she nods, feeling his hand carefully pull away from hers. She drags another bit of the cigarette in her mouth and exhales slowly, letting out a soft giggle.

Louise reaches again for her cigarette and she turns to Kaine, raising it up to him. He eyes it curiously, the smoke following its swift trail behind it. Kaine gets the hint she wants him to try it out. With the back of his hand, he pushes it away from him and says,

“No thank you. I… I don’t like it.”

Louise raises an eyebrow, making a face that she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“How could you not like it?”

“Don’t really like the essence of it.”

“So you’ve never tasted it?”

“Never.” Kaine raises an eyebrow as she scoffs in response. She inhaled the smoke again and exhales it with a sigh. She says,

“Everyone smokes here. Am I supposed to believe that easily you don’t?”

Kaine snorts lightly. “I’m not like anyone else.”

Louise rolls her eyes a bit, and she waves him dismissively. She shifts in her seat and amusingly says, “How many times will you go on saying that?”

Kaine shrugs, pushing some of his curls closer to his face almost creating a curtain between him and Louise. He mumbled, “As much as I need to remind… myself.”

Louise sighs a little bit more loudly, and she gets on the couch to sit up on her knees. Her hands trail up to his arm and she leans closer to him. Kaine could smell her perfumed scent mixed in with the smoke, as he closed his eyes when he heard her soft honeyed voice near his ear.

“You're right. Remind yourself that. But let me add that it’s because you’re unique. Much more than anyone else here. You’re my one in a million.”

Louise's warm hands moved around his body, snaking her arms around him. In the gentle embrace Kaine leaned more into her and let himself be comforted. The tension in his body became relaxed and both him and Louise leaned back on the couch together. He rested his head on her chest, listening to the calm heartbeat and breathing of her smoking.

The dark room is silent for a moment as he breaks it with a soft monotone voice.

“I think I’ll try it out sometime these days. Smoking.”

He feels Louise’s hand pat him lovingly on his back. A soft chuckle rumbles from her.

“Whatever you say sweetheart. I’ll be here for your first.”

………………………………………………………………………….

On the night of her funeral, Kaine did everything in his power to avoid attending. But after everything, after murdering her it was hard not to go back. A final goodbye at least.

For the night he crashed (literally) in her apartment. Kaine remembered how he slept on the couch that night, afraid to go to her room and not find her there despite knowing she was gone.

Everywhere the lingering smell of cigarettes and Louise’s sweet perfume held him on a chokehold. The room illuminated with the glow of the moon, keeping him both awake and asleep.

Eventually he walked to the curtains and closed them completely, leaving him and the darkness in each other's company.

Kaine stared at nothing in the darkness as his tears streamed down the sides of his face. No sound was uttered as he cried and he could feel himself falling apart by the minute. So much for being one in a million. At this moment he had wished Louise pulled the trigger of the gun on him.

The weight of her betrayal was still fresh in his mind as her facade fell and became the monster he overlooked. Her twisted heart capable of fooling a love to a monster left him so blind and vulnerable. And yet in his mind he still insisted he was something, anything to her. She did spare him. She really did…And both paid the price for their faults.

Her screams couldn’t leave his mind as she struggled violently to be let go of his hold, her back pushing against his chest. He recalled his nose burying near her hair as he smelled her one more time. And the feeling of her delicate neck breaking and burning in his hands was a brutal reminder of the horrible joy he got from relieving the burden Louise had become to him. The many times he kissed that neck and face he never saw what the outcome would be in the end for those parts.

Now he knew.

………………………………………………………………………….

He left her place the moment the funeral had passed, bothering to clean up whatever mess he left. Underneath the couch he picked out the pack of cigarettes that she must have dropped and become lost.

Mindlessly he shoved those in his back pocket. And checked the place once again. And left.

Atop the buildings he ran and jumped, the rain crashing down to hit him in the face like a whip. Remembering when he first arrived in Utah, the first thing he saw was the graveyard. Not like it mattered to him at the time, only imagining what he would be like dead in one of those places.

For Louise to make it her final resting place was no surprise. How she died could have ended up differently.

He would have preferred her death to be the hand of her own smoking addiction. Get lung cancer once she aged. One where she’d be a dead woman walking.

Living, but dying.

At last he arrived at the graveyard, and he wasted no time walking around each place to find her name. He could have laughed if he realized it should have been obvious which one was hers. Everyone had their own set of flowers, dead and alive.

Louise Kennedy, had none.

Stopping in front of her, he slowly felt his chest swell up with the bubbling feeling of guilt and anger. It was pathetic and almost pitiful to see how her area was completely empty. Maybe she had no family close to her mourning for her. He didn’t sit down on the ground, instead squatting and hunched over as the rain poured down on his head. Kaine didn’t say a word, and just lowered his eyes feeling incapable of reading her name carved on the headstone.

His legs and body began to hurt from the position he was on and he decided to sit in the moist ground. He felt everything soak him up. His face was becoming wet and he couldn’t tell which of the wetness between the rain and his tears were.

Oddly, it was warm.

In his seat he shifted a little as his eyebrow raised when he felt something discomforting from behind his pants. Pulling it out, a shaky breath exhaled from his mouth. His chest hurt even more now that he was holding something very close to the person that once lived: Her pack of cigarettes.

The box was warm in the grip of his hand. Maybe he didn’t bring flowers but he brought her favorite thing. His silence and the soft trickle of rain hitting the ground were present in the background as he kept staring at the box. The edge of his thoughts kept insisting him to do something right now. In that instant an idea popped in his mind. He stared at the ground of her grave and back at the small pack and a startling giggle escaped his lips.

He remembered how he never really tried his first cigarette. She said she would be witness. And here they were: together again. Such a perfect final goodbye for them both. Shaking the box to his ear to listen if there was enough, he gritted his teeth in satisfaction. He turns to her grave and a rough mock in his tone rings out.

“Share a final smoke with me, Louise. You said you were gonna see me. Now watch.”

Staring at the pack he turned it in his hand noting the wrinkles on the surface. He paused when he noticed a faint pink smudge, and dented teeth on the side. The pad of his thumb traced there a little, feeling the small bumps underneath his fingertip. The pink smudge spread slightly to the right.

Lipstick.

Perhaps her hands were busy at the time and must have held the box in between her teeth. Well no more of that now. Shaking the box, two cigarettes dropped out onto his palm and he pulled out a lighter he had found on a nearby counter.

He ignited the lighter to life with a shaky thumb, taking a couple tries to make the spark. The open flame flickered in and out from the rain that crossed its way. Nearing both cigarette tips, they gently began to burn red and smoke emitted from them.

He closed the cap and tossed it aside on the ground near her headstone. With both sticks in his fingers, he shifted in his seat on the ground. He raised one towards his lips, muttering,

“One for me…”

His chapped lips wrapped around the stick, adjusting them comfortably with a small roll.

“…And one for you.”

He stretched forward and jabbed the cigarette in the middle of the dirt as it stared upwards. Sad quiet eyes watched it fight, keeping itself burning, but the weight of the rain was too much. The stick slowly shrunk down in the dirt, unable to keep its shape intact. The faint sizzle of the stick began to wane, the smoke whipping in the wind.

In an instant… The burn was gone.

Too bad.

Now it was his turn.

Carefully he took a slow drag of the cigarette with a pucker, closing his eyes as the smoke of nicotine settled in his lungs. The rich and nasty flavor settled on his tongue like nothing. The familiar taste of her kiss instantly coming back to him and his eyes watered. The rain pattered on his hair heavily, matting down his curls and they stuck on his breaking skin. His breathing ragged a little, already feeling the pinch on his throat and lungs at the same time, and his hands dug the soft earth beneath him.

A haze moved in his mind, almost leaving him in a trance like state. He lolls his head to the side and his eyes read the letters on the headstone.

R…I…P…L…O…U…I..—

“ARGH—!”

Kaine’s body aggressively recoils forward as the cellular degeneration kicks in, and his mouth drops the cigarette onto the ground. His hands reached up to his face, gripping his cheeks as he felt the skin stretch and rip a little apart. He lets out a bloodcurdling scream as the pain of smoke in his lungs and throat adds to his trigger. It burned and cooled, like chewing a mint gum and drinking water. He chokes out his tears, coughing out and huffing as much fresh air he can to ease his pain. His sight keeps being blurred by a mix of his tears and the rain.

His eyes keep darting at her headstone, and he shuffles desperately forward quickly pressing his face on the surface of it. He felt the coldness sink calmly onto his skin, wishing for her warm arms to wrap around him. Just like she always did.

Please… please Louise…

The rain kept on and the rumble of thunder came and went from time to time.

The pain eventually left, and he was left in a mess of grime, dirt, blood, and the taste of smoke. Gently he pulls himself away from the headstone and moves back, gritting his teeth feeling his bones shake inside him.

The feeling of wanting to go home ached immensely. But what home? After this what now? Questions he would soon have to respond on his own with any hope he had left. And that was the problem. He hoped too much.

Kaine pushed himself up from the ground, staggering back with a groan. His eye catches the box of cigarettes on the ground, sticks spilled and stained with dirt from his thrashing.

He didn’t know what to do except push the box near her grave and with the heel of his foot, started grinding it down. And he kept doing it and doing it and doing it, a new found rage burning again. He never liked them anyway. He probably never will. His mind rushed in an angry thrill,

I hate you I hate you I hate you—!

“…I-I love you.”

Hurriedly he pushes the dirt and grass onto the cigarettes, burying them and flats it out as if nothing had happened. And he turned away from Louise’s grave, not wanting to look at her again. He walks away with the bitter taste of her cigarette on his tongue. The rain settled down to a quiet drizzle, the peppered stars on the night sky twinkling.

She will never leave his mind. If there was smoke, she would be there.

Always.

#kaine parker #Louise Kennedy #I hope i didn’t make anyone cry #I cried writing this hahah #writers on tumblr #writer #I said “frick hw I wanna do this instead. #No I don’t smoke #Don’t do drugs kids #I h​ad to look up people smoking and hear them talk about their experience #Ik this is the least ship anyone wanted but it’s the one I needed to be explored a little #Angst #death mention tw #tw violence #tw drugs #Oh by experience I mean like how do cigarettes taste like and all that #Smoking has a new meaning to me now #spider man #It’s just only brief in the beginning that’s why and the rest is just what happened afterwards #Did I even explore the relationship? I’m starting to think not really #This fic is NOT canon to the story I repeat it’s just a FANFIC #marvel comics #Also teeny reference to the lovely #aracely penalba #Spider-Man: The Lost Years #Louise Kennedy/Kaine Parker

[preciouslandmermaid]

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby (carmy x f!reader) - bonus post-epilogue chapter

Note:  I randomly wanted to write a wedding, but I don't actually include the ceremony, so this is more like a "pre-wedding/post-wedding" story if we're being honest ! Also it takes place about 2 years after the epilogue :)

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Content! (Explicit Language/Sexual Content).

(Read on Ao3) /// (Masterpost)    

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

Sydney held the wooden spoon toward you and the scent of the honey and ginger glaze tickled your nostrils. Earlier in the afternoon, she rolled the sleeves of her dark green sweater to her elbows and the beaded bracelet (a gift from Richie’s daughter, Eva) slid partway down her wrist.

“Alright, it’s your entree. You get to try it first.”

“I thought that was the chef’s honor?”

“Yeah, well, you’re the bride so…” she trailed off, shrugging. “I think that superimposes chef’s honor.”

You smiled and raised both eyebrows at Syd. She didn’t have to help, especially considering how busy The Bear is nowadays, but she offered and you gratefully accepted. Wedding planning – as it turned out – was a stressful affair. You and Carmy had your location set, but the guest list, wedding registry, and menu were woefully incomplete. You tangled yourselves into knots over the planning, but the goal remained firm in your mind; a celebration with Carmy and your friends mixed with the legality of marriage. You would overcome any hurdles you needed to cross because all of it would be worth it in the end.

Wordlessly, you closed your mouth over the spoon. Your lips puckered and your tongue recoiled to the safety of your back molars.

“Oh, oh shit,” Sydney said emphatically, “you hate it.”

“N-no!” You coughed, swallowing, and grabbing your glass of water. “The acidity is just a little...strong. It needs to be adjusted, that’s all.”

“Fuck,” she said, slapping her palm on the wooden countertop. “Okay – uh – that’s okay. We can – I can totally fix this. No biggie.” When she tasted the glaze, her expression pinched before she stuck out her tongue and gagged. “Yeah, nope.” She released a forced, short laugh. “There’s no saving that one.”

You loved Syd’s earnest, anxious awkwardness. Her blunt nature had been the first foundational stone of your friendship. You liked that she didn’t let Carmy off the hook, regardless of his experience and talent, and their partnership was an integral component to the Bear’s continued success.

“Back to the drawing board,” you said, drumming your fingers on the countertop. “Maybe ginger is too sharp? Do we lean more savory?”

“Interesting idea coming from the baker,” she teased.

“Hey!” You pretended to be offended and infused your tone with as much indignation as you could. “Just because I run a bakery doesn’t mean I have a sweet tooth.”

Syd laughed. “There is literally a bowl of candy by the entryway.”

“It’s for Halloween.” You crossed your arms and said, “There are a ton of families in this building.” In truth, your lack of nicotine intake after quitting smoking had manifested into a ravenous sweet tooth and, the lollipops – although bad for your teeth – were monumentally healthier than cigarettes.

“Dude, Halloween is seven months away.”

“We’re prepared.”

“What for like kids who don’t know how to like tell time and show up a few months early?”

“Obviously.”

She finished scraping the glaze into the trash. “You’re fucking ridiculous.” Her bright smile faded and the light entered her dark eyes. You recognized it as her ‘I have an idea face’ and your mood lifted—the overly sour glaze quickly forgotten. When Carmy said he wanted The Bear to cater your wedding, you had been shocked, and concerned about the additional stress it would add to your lives. However, with Syd in your kitchen, the pan gripped in her hand and her expression rapt with wonder, you realized that you had nothing to worry about. The wedding’s menu and food preparation were in the best hands.

“Do you have any soy sauce?” she asked, “Worcestershire sauce will work too, or liquid aminos if we’re desperate.”

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

Carmy watched as your fingers held aloft over the keyboard and the spreadsheet glared menacingly in a harsh blue-white glow. The guest list had been easy to start. The obvious ones were Syd, Natalie, Peter, Richie and Eva, and your best friend, Taylor. The harder choices were family and how to arrange the tables. Your eyebrows angled in confusion and you drew your hands away.

“I’m not inviting my dad,” you said after a moment’s pause.

Carmy nodded. “Okay.”

His neck prickled uncomfortably. It wasn’t the flushed heat that arrived when he felt embarrassed. No. This discomfort traveled from his neck to his fingers. It raked across his skin like a thousand needles, pricking every nerve, and drawing blood. He thought about going to his coat pocket and withdrawing a crumpled pack of cigarettes. The quick, cold rush of nicotine would ease his headache and calm his nerves. But, if he smoked, then he’d need to walk downstairs and into the blustery sharp gray wind of March. And he didn’t want to bail on you. The puzzle of who to invite and who to sit with whom was a project for the both of you to untangle.

“I dunno if I should…” He cleared his throat and looked away when your eyes met his over the laptop screen. “I dunno.”

“Your mom?” you correctly guessed.

Carmy sniffed, scratched the side of his nose, and nodded. His heart thumped into his ribs. Maybe he should take a walk. Maybe the March air would clear this dreadful feeling from his skull. His stomach hardened into a pit at the idea of his mom coming to his wedding. But, at the same time, his dread and fear congealed into a sharp guilt that curdled his stomach acid. His mom was a force to be reckoned with. A hurricane of a woman. He loved her. He didn’t know if he wanted her at the wedding. He knew she’d be upset if she weren’t invited. But, both of you decided to keep the guest list small. The careful cuts were necessary, and not just due to the frugality aspect, but in terms of everyone’s enjoyment.

“She’d make it about her,” he said, “remember Sophia’s second birthday?”

You placed your hand on the middle of Carmy’s back, right between his tense shoulder blades, and he forced a harsh exhale through his teeth. They almost called the police, Carmy thought with a frown. His mom showed up and seemed fine, and then shortly before cake and presents, she buckled little Sophia into her car and claimed that Natalie hated her and didn’t want Sophia to have a relationship with her grandmother. His niece, at the age when separation anxiety often occurred, cried so much that she threw up on her special birthday dress.

“I do,” you said and your eyes softened.

“I’m a terrible son,” Carmy said, “I’m a fucking asshole. We have to invite her, don’t we? She deserves to be there.”

“Carmy, you’re not.” You rubbed his back. “Do you think I’m an asshole for not inviting my dad?”

He quickly said, “No.” The pit in his stomach gnawed at his smoke-deprived lungs. “It’s different.”

“How so?”

“He has another family.” Carmy stood, raking his hand through his hair. “My mom only has Nat and me.”

“So you have to sacrifice your happiness and comfort for hers?”

“Yes!” he said immediately followed by a quick, “No. I don’t know.” He reached into his coat pocket hanging by the door and fished out the squashed packet of cigarettes.

You trailed after him and wound your arms around him, pressing your face into his back, your hands coming to rest over his heart. Carmy froze. The pressure of your hands on his chest made him realize how fast his heart was beating. He squeezed the cigarette packet and it crinkled beneath his clammy fingers.

“Remind me,” you said, voice faintly muffled by his t-shirt, “what was the possible diagnosis your therapist gave her?”

“Borderline personality disorder.” His therapist also said his mom could have narcissistic personality disorder, but BPD was more likely, based on his descriptions of childhood. It helped to have a name for it. It gave him a better understanding of everything he went through.

“Which defines her behavior but doesn’t excuse it,” you said as you circled around him to face him. “Carmy, I love you.” You cupped his face in your hands. “I will support you if you want to invite Donna and I’ll weather any storms she brings with her. Who knows...maybe it’ll be a good day for her.” Your tone toward the end of your sentence became dubious.

Carmy sighed. “I don’t think I want to invite her, but I feel like I should.” He frowned. “That doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“No, it does. You feel an obligation as her son to share this big moment with her. I get it.”

“Do you feel guilty about not inviting your dad?”

“A little.” Your lips pursed. “But, if I visualize our wedding, the thought of my dad standing beside me doesn’t make me happy. I don’t feel excited about it. I just feel…”

“Dread?” he guessed.

You smiled faintly. “It’s more annoyance and anger for me.”

“Mm, yeah. Makes sense.” He leaned his forehead and touched it to yours. How did he get so lucky? He imagined the wedding. He imagined seeing you across from him, sliding the ring on your finger, and stuttering through his vows. The usual nervousness bubbled up inside his chest, but it was smothered by the overwhelming warmth and affection he felt for you that bled across his skin like thick honey.

“I don’t think I can invite her,” he whispered.

“That’s okay, Carm.” You kissed him softly. “That’s okay.” You repeated against his mouth. A sensation of cool and blissful relief extinguished the last lingering remnants of his dread.

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

“Something is weird,” you said, leaning forward in the passenger seat. “Why are there two florist vans? Did we accidentally get two?” You didn’t recognize the name on the second van either. Must be a local shop, you thought, although that doesn’t explain why they’re here.

“I don’t think so,” Carmy said.

As everyone poured out of their cars, their garment bags slung over their arms or over their shoulders, a sharply dressed black woman emerged from the entrance and strode purposefully toward you and Carmy.

“You must be the Berzattos,” she said breathlessly as she shook your hands. “It’s good to meet you. My name is Vivienne and I’m afraid I have bad news.”

“What sort of bad news?” Richie said, “The kind that gets us a discount?” He grinned at Carmy and your husband-to-be rolled his eyes.

“Perhaps.”

Richie whispered, “Oh shit.”

“We’ve had some technical issues with our new scheduling program.” She wrung her hands together. “The venue has been double-booked.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, noticing all the additional staff buzzing to and fro across the manicured lawn.

Vivienne said, “I’m so sorry for the mistake. If you’d like, we can reschedule you.”

Your stomach dropped into your shoes.

“Absolutely not,” you said, “people flew out to be here. We can’t reimburse flights and accommodations, and nor should we have to considering this is your error.” You sighed, feeling a headache press into your temples. “Why didn’t you notify us?”

“How about a discount and you can split the venue?” she offered, “we only realized the mistake when the two catering companies showed up.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” said Richie.

“Fuck,” Syd said.

Natalie crossed her arms. “I’m sorry did they say double-booked?”

“Mommy!” Sophia pulled at Natalie’s pant leg. “Mommy, look! Sunflowers!” She pointed at the floral van carrying out their arrangements.

You shared a glance with Carmy. “Can we have a minute?”

“Of course. Again, we’re so sorry.”

You and Carmy broke away from the group of your closest friends and family. You rubbed your hands down the length of your face.

“We can’t reschedule,” you said, “but how the hell are we going to share the venue? They have one kitchen and we paid for our guests to stay the night.”

“Maybe the timing works out,” Carmy said, taking your hand in his. “You want to stay here?”

“Yes.”

“Then fuck it. We stay.”

“Okay, fuck it.” You smiled. “Let’s negotiate a good discount.”

“Say the word and I’ll send Pete in,” Carmy joked.

You laughed. “God, we might need him.”

The organization was a cluster-fuck. The venue manager, Vivienne, assured and promised that the space was large enough and that the other party – the Carmichael's – were having a noon wedding with a 2 PM reception and everything would be cleaned up for your 4 PM wedding and 5 PM reception. But, you noticed the proverbial cracks in the foundation. The necessary kitchen prep work, the clashing decorations, the intermingling guests, and the underlying stress and confusion permeated every interaction. You practiced intentional breathing and hoped you’d make it through the day without bursting into stress-induced tears.

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

The zipper was halfway up when it broke. You felt the snag, then the tug and pull, and the abrupt separation. You pressed your hand to your mouth and muffled the noise of discontent and frustration that threatened to break free.

Taylor pushed her long, thick dark braid over her shoulder and pursed her red lips at you. “We can work with this,” she said after a long moment of contemplation. “We can fix it.”

You released a strangled, “can we?” You blinked back your burning tears—you didn’t want to ruin your makeup.

“Yeah, most of these places have emergency sewing kits,” your best friend said while digging through the drawers, “also, this might be a bad time, but is the chef single?”

Despite everything, you laughed. “Which chef?”

“The tall blonde one with the accent.”

“Luca?”

Taylor’s eyes brightened. “Yes!”

“I’ll find out for you,” you said while reaching for your phone. You smiled at the sight of your phone background, a black and white photo of you and Carmy, and Taylor snickered.

“I remember when you told me about him,” she said.

“You do?”

“Yeah, you were all tied into knots about it...and now look at you! Tying the knot.” She winked. “I’m glad you guys figured it out.”

Your chest warmed with pleasure. “Me too.”

“Aha!” She held the little sewing kit aloft. It had the venue's name printed on the front of the bag. “Do you think they write this so nobody steals it?” She asked while tapping the swooping decal.

Before you could answer, your mom bustled into the room, her billowing lilac sleeves trailing after her arms.

“Oh! Look at you!” She grabbed your chin and kissed your cheek. “I’ve got something for you. A little tradition.”

“Mom, I don’t know if I can stomach any more surprises.” Taylor began to fix your zipper and the cold metal teeth periodically kissed your skin.

“You’ll like this surprise.”

Your mom removed a potted plant from her purse. The dark soil clung to her fingertips, the plant likely got knocked around more than once, as she set it down on the vanity. You recognized the wide, verdant leaves.

“A basil plant?”

“Normally, we give a flower of some type, but I chose a basil plant instead.” She smiled, pleased. “Nurture the plant as you nurture your future and it’ll thrive.”

Your throat tightened. “Thanks, Mom.” Your shoulders jerked as Taylor finished zipping and she whooped in triumphant delight.

“There we go, crisis averted,” said Taylor, “now we don’t have to worry about walking down the aisle naked.”

You rubbed your fingertips along the basil leaf and smiled at them.

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

“God,” Richie said, fixing his tie, “I can’t believe you’re getting fucking married, cousin.”

“Yeah, me either.” Carmy scratched the side of his nose.

“I always thought Mikey’d get married before you,” he said, “he was just more charmin’, you know? He had a way with people, women especially, God…” Richie shook his head. “He couldn’t walk down the street without getting some chick’s phone number.”

Carmy stared sullenly at his reflection. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s a good thing he didn’t? ‘Cause then he’d have an ex-wife, or a widow, or a kid or somethin, I dunno.”

Carmy wondered if he’d forever be in rooms with Mikey’s shadow stuck to the corners. It didn’t suffocate him as much anymore. Mikey’s memory lurked within every conversation – like slivers of light through the paneled window shades. Today of all days though, Carmy suspected those slivers would blind him. Mikey should’ve been here, could’ve been, and he wasn’t.

“Yeah, good point.” Richie turned the side and smoothed his lapels. “Still, it should be him.”

Carmy’s neck flushed with indignation. Did Richie seriously have to be such an asshole? His brow furrowed. It was his fucking wedding day for fuck’s sake!

“Cousin—” Carmy began.

“Standing here, I mean, as your best man,” said Richie. “Look, there’s no takebacks and this would be a hell of a time to change your mind but it should’ve been Mikey. Not me. I get that, okay? That’s all I’m trying to say…” He fixed his tie again. “And I’m gonna do everything to make sure that this day doesn’t go to shit. I can promise you that, alright?”

Carmy blinked, at a loss for words at Richie’s admission. It had been six years and counting since Mikey’s death and Richie had been with him for every one. If he was being honest with himself and not caught up on nostalgia, if Mikey was here, then Carmy wasn’t sure he would have trusted him with all the responsibility. Hell, Richie organized a pizza-making bachelor party for him. He offered to trash the other couple’s wedding.

“Who else would it be?” he asked softly, “you’re family, Richie.”

Richie sniffed, nodded, and clapped his hand on Carmy’s shoulder, jostling him. When Carmy met his eyes, they were glassy and bright.

“I know.” His lips twitched up into a grin. “Let’s get you fucking married!” He pulled Carmy in a one-armed, half-hug and shook him. “Put a fucking smile on that face, Carm. Come on! Come on!”

He affectionately pinched Carmy’s face in one hand, squishing his mouth, and Carmy shoved Richie away, annoyed, but laughing—in the same way he’d get annoyed and laugh whenever Mikey goofed around with him.

“Fuck off,” said Carmy, without any heat.

“Hey,” Syd poked her head into the doorway, “you ready? The photographer wants to see all of the groomsmen.”

“Shouldn’t you say grooms-people? To be like politically correct or whatever,” Richie asked, “or groomsmen and women considering you’re among us.”

Syd made a face. “Richie shut up and come pose with us.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to be inclusive,” he said loudly.

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

If someone asked you to recount all the details of your wedding—you didn’t think you could. It was the busiest and most stressful day of your life. You’d always remember the finer details like Carmy’s thoughtful, flustered vows, Richie starting a limbo competition, or Syd’s dad dancing with Taylor—at least for a while until she disappeared with Luca in tow. Good for you, you remembered thinking as you watched her form retreat down the hall.

But the rest of the day was an exuberant blur. It had been long and you were grateful to relax into the lush pillowcases with your short silk gown kissing your skin.

Carmy climbed into bed after showering and peppered kisses along your nose and jaw, his hands finding your hips beneath the covers and holding them.

“I can’t believe you’re my husband,” you said with soft laughter before chasing his lips with yours.

“And you’re my wife,” he said, lifting your wrists and placing them over your head, “keep those there.”

You said, “We’ve been married less than twelve hours and you’re already bossing me around?”

Carmy chuckled and his breath puffed over your peaked nipples. His tongue laved over the silk, and moistened it before he drew your nipple between his lips. The soft silk and warmth of Carmy’s tongue was a heady, back-arching mixture.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, plunging your hands into his damp curls and scraping your nails over his scalp.

“Yeah?” His calloused palm felt its way down your thigh, “Are you wet for me already?”

“A little,” you admitted as you parted your legs for him.

“God,” he muttered before mouthing along your breasts and wetting the silk with his tongue and lips. He held one of your breasts in his hand and squeezed, pushing the mound into his mouth again and sucking your hard nipple. The sensation turned to liquid, sticky heat between your legs. You moaned, pushing upward into his grasp and gyrating your hips in askance. His hand was frustratingly close to your cunt, but not close enough. He rubbed up and down your inner thigh from knee to apex, letting his knuckles occasionally brush your pussy, before drawing away without adding any pressure. The fucking nerve of him!

“My wife is so fucking hot,” Carmy said, and hearing the words sent a hot, fresh thrill trembling through you.

“And my husband is a fucking tease,” you said, digging your fingertips into his hard, sculpted shoulders.

Carmy pulled his mouth away from your wet breasts. The silk had darkened where his mouth had been and you could faintly see your nipples through the semi-translucent fabric.

“Am I?” He drew his hands away from you and grabbed your wrists again, pinning them above your head, “I thought I said to keep these here.”

You snorted. “When have I ever listened?”

“You’re a great listener,” he said honestly.

“I want to touch you, Carmy,” you said, matching his honesty with your own, even as his praise sang through your ears and warmed your skin.

He softened. “Okay.” He pulled your wedding ring-adorned hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. The moment he released your hand, you slid your fingers down his chest, smiling at the way his eyelashes fluttered and his cheeks darkened. You wiggled your fingers beneath the tight waistband of his boxer shorts and found him hard and pulsing within your grasp.

“Fuck.” He shuddered. “I feel like I could come just by looking at you.”

He jerked his hips into your touch as your fingers encircled him. You craned your neck upward and kissed him, finding the familiar rhythm of tongue and teeth, and moaning wantonly into his mouth when his hand cupped your wet folds. He hissed when his index finger pledged into you and your mind went white-hot and blank.

“Do you think the stress of the day has manifested into being super horny for each other?” You asked, your other hand cupping the back of Carmy’s neck, pinning his face close to yours so you could kiss him. His pretty blue eyes blinked at you.

“Maybe. But, I think I just want to fuck my wife.” His cock twitched in your hand and you grinned.

“It turns you on to call me your wife, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

His admission made your walls clench around his index finger. Maybe you liked it too. Maybe. You felt Carmy smile against your lips. “Can’t wait to be inside you,” he muttered, “filling you, listening to you moan.”

You gasped and your eyes rolled back into your skull. It wasn’t often that Carmy engaged in dirty talk, so when he did, it was a rare and special treat that never failed to drench your core. Carmy ran his tongue along your neck, tasting your sweat before a second finger speared between your folds and coaxed that inner fire.

“Keep this on,” he said, dragging his teeth across the strap of your gown, “when I fuck you.”

“Mm – fuck. Okay,” you groaned.

“Actually, I—” his words were suddenly lost to a moan as you adjusted your grip on his cock, your fingers slicked with pre-cum. ��Fuck, baby. I need you on top of me.”

“Gladly.”

Carmy rolled onto his back, yanking his shorts down, and you smiled at the sight of him – as desperate as you were with his chest heaving and his wet curls falling onto his forehead. Your walls clenched in anticipation as you hiked the hem of the dress over your hips. Carmy’s hands settled on your thighs and he watched hungrily as you held the base of his cock and slowly lowered yourself onto him. Your spine convulsed and the sensation of him stretching you and filling you wiped out every lingering thought in your mind.

“God,” his voice was strangled, “you feel so fucking amazing.”

You cupped his face, resting your forehead on his as you rode him, and said, “so do you.”

“I love you so much,” Carmy said reverently, “so goddamn much.”

Your heart threatened to break and regrow the from sheer tenderness of his words. Carmy, you learned over the years, expressed his love with acts of service and he said ‘I love you’ most often while having sex. However, something about this ‘I love you’ was different. It was more intense on your post-wedding night. You buried your face into his sweaty neck, your bodies and hearts joined, your futures intrinsically linked.

“I love you too.”

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

You tilted the watering can over the thriving basil plant and smiled.

“Auntie.” Sophia, freshly eight years old, held something in her hands. “I found a worm.”

You blinked at her. “Put it back?”

“Okay!” She replied cheerily and dropped the worm back into the potted rosemary. She spun when the balcony door slid open. “Hi Uncle Carmy! Do you want to see the worm?” She pointed.

Carmy smiled, first at his niece, and then at you. “Let me see,” he said, crouching. He balanced his wrists on his knees and the sunlight gleamed off his wedding band. Your heart skipped. My husband. You wondered what your grandfather would say if you could tell him that his death led you to your soulmate, a second family, and a range of new friends. Knowing him he’d tell me that he would’ve died sooner if he knew how happy it’d make me. Your grandfather had had a wry sense of humor.

Carmy stood and put his arm around you. “We’re going to need to re-pot the basil if it keeps growing like this,” he said absentmindedly.

You leaned into him and kissed his cheek.

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen 'carmy' berzatto x you

[lavender-romancer]

Loving girl

Tommy Shelby x reader

CW: suicide mentions, grief

You've always known you would be a better partner for Tommy, after Grace died you had to reassess your motivations for being close to Tommy because he needed a friend more than ever before

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

When you were younger it was easier to deal with the unrequited feelings of a teenage crush. Everyone has those feelings when they're around 15, it's not unheard of for them to go away after a few years or even months. But this was incomparably different. You didn't know how to express your feelings in a coherent way to him, the way you had always shown affection towards him was support and material things like buying him cigarettes or baking him something. There was no way to vocalise your feelings because you were so awful with expressing yourself. Instead turning towards sexual and substance based distractions which would allow you to forget about him for a moment.

Tommy didn't care for labels unless there were children involved, he didn't have girlfriends only women he fucked. Grace became his wife because of Charlie and you didn't know if it would have been different if she wasn't pregnant. Tommy Shelby expressed fondness for Grace but nothing which you would call love, responsibility was more important to him.

You so wanted the story of the two of you to end happily, the teasing that the two of you got from the Shelby brothers was enough to make you hope there was something there but it was a story. A story that you liked to manufacture an ending for rather than feelings based in fact. Tommy saw you as his closest friend but since that wouldn't be too popular with his new wife you'd been seeing each other less and less over the years. You still saw the other Shelby's and Michael at the Garrison most evenings and at work but Tommy was scarcely around.

Everyday felt prettier when you saw Tommy, when he was in a room with you it made you feel instantly more comfortable. It had been this way since you were younger, racing to meet him after school and go on a walk together before having dinner at Pol's house. The memories of your youth where your minds just contained an emptiness of anxieties that you'd experience later in life. You'd never seen Tommy quite as anxious as when you saw him after Grace had died. It was the first time the room didn't feel prettier with him being there. you could appreciate the stoic dimness of the lamp on his desk and how the grand windows let in a beautiful amount of light but… just the bags under Thomas' eyes indicated how sleepless these nights had been.

"Got these for you and made you some stuff, don't worry if you don't eat it," you softly placed two packs of cigarettes and a tin of pastries on his desk.

"Thank you," he said gruffly with a nod, immediately looking at the packaging of the cigarettes "The posh ones eh? Spending all that money on me?" He showed the hints of a smile and you took it gratefully.

"I mean, clearly in a slum like this you could do with the glamor of taste," you said sarcastically and he scoffed.

"You always have the worst attempts at humor I've ever heard." Tommy sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.

"Oh shut up, now give me one of those and we can chat," you held your hand out and Tommy handed you a cigarette which you lit after you sat down on the chair in front of him.

"Chat, hmm? We haven't done that in a while have we." Tommy reminisced.

"I meant to apologise about that. I should've made more of an effort to see you." You pursed your lips uncomfortably but Tommy waved you off.

"Not at all, she wouldn't have liked you being here anyways. It was a good decision, jealousy can fester from any corner of a friendship." Tommy lit his own cigarette.

"How has today been?" You asked.

"Just as shit as the others. My never ending guilt and the wish I had died instead is still such a strong feeling," he paused "Do you think it will ever go away?"

"That's a lot to ask of your unconscious thoughts, Thomas. They're not usually that helpful in normal situations." You smiled at him and he nodded.

"I thought so, Charlie will now grow up without a mother and that's one thing I can't fix with all the money in the world. It's so frustrating." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"How is Charlie?" You changed the subject because you feared that line of conversation would go nowhere.

"You're doing that thing you do again," Tommy looked like he almost smiled.

"What thing?" You narrowed your eyes at him.

"The way you change the subject when I start getting emotional so I don't actually get there," he commented and you shrugged.

"It's what friends do isn't it." You took a deep breath in and out.

"You're too considerate for your own good, Y/n." Tommy tapped the ash off his cig and looked into your eyes.

"Only to you," you said quietly.

"I know, I appreciate it. A lot," he paused "I always wondered what it would be like to have that amount of consideration all the time."

"What do you mean?" Your palms began to sweat.

"Just when I'm imagining a world like that, you know? With more people like you," Tommy paused and smiled sadly at you. "It would be infinitely better than what we suffer with now."

"Tommy… you've drank too much today," you said cautiously looking at the half empty whisky bottle on his desk.

"And yet, I'm thinking clearer." He suddenly stood up and walked over to the window.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked.

"How I want to burn it all," he said in a stoic voice and you could have shivered at how serious it sounded.

"Well I don't think arson would be the best move for you next." You smiled to yourself and he let out a small closed mouth smile before leaning the side of his head against the window.

"It's something Michael said when I met him again, that if he saw the pretty white brick wishing well in his old village again he would blow it up just to see the bricks everywhere. I want to do the same thing to this fucking house half the time," Tommy closed his eyes.

"But this is now Charlie's home, you have to think about consistency with his life from now on." You reasoned and Tommy nodded slowly.

"He's the only reason I haven't done it. The only reason I won't." He walked back to his desk and sat down before pouring another whisky as well as one for you.

"Thank you. So, what's next?" You asked, sitting back on the sofa nursing your glass.

"Business, business, business I think. It's the only way I know to distract myself from the enormity of this fucking house and all the fucking loss that's occurred throughout it." Tommy sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Why don't you tell me about it? The loss I mean." You proposed and Tommy sounded like he scoffed at the idea.

"Turning into my personal shrink now are you, eh?" He asked.

"I'm being a friend." You said simply and he nodded.

"You're right, but I'm not the man for those kinds of conversations. I don't know how to verbalise any of it," he took a drink. "I do sometimes wish we could go back to being 14, lying in wildflowers without any issues we couldn't solve with a bit of practical thinking. Everthing is so fucking hard now, Y/n and I don't think I can cope with it for much longer."

"You don't mean that, we were just innocents but, we all have to grow up at some point and you decided your life path when you got married and had children within the marriage. You can't back out now to go back to a simpler time or something," You placed the glass down and walked over to the desk.

"Why do you fit so well together?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You're so reasonable and caring and you want to help me even though I've been a terrible friend. You like your job and your house and your social life, everything fits together so well. Whereas I always feel like I'm on the verge of the end everyday." Tommy looked up at you and you shook your head.

"You know I'm even better at lying than you are. That's how I do it, fake confidence, fake togetherness. Whatever it takes to get me through the day because eventually it feels normal to me." You reached over and touched Tommy's hand.

"I used to crave a normal routine but then after the war I couldn't deal with the plague of silence that comes with it. Everytime I would have normality it would be colliding with some kind of crisis I created to make my own life more interesting." Tommy rubbed his temple with his other hand and you frowned.

"And what does wallowing in it do for you?" You asked.

"I know, it's fucking deluded of me. But I don't know how else to get through. How do you deal with grief?" He asked.

"Talking about it for a start, I don't know…screaming sometimes works. When my mum died I punched a wall." You laughed and Tommy smiled to himself.

"I can see myself doing the second thing at least, talking about it makes me want to commit. It's just…so fucking sad because Charlie's mum's died when it should've been me. It was a bullet meant for me." Tommy sighed and you walked around his desk to stand in front of him.

"Come here," you beckoned him to stand in front of you and he slowly got up and straightened his waistcoat.

You pulled him into a deeply needed embrace, Tommy hadn't received any type of comfort that had actually worked until now. He cried. He cried for the mother of his child, he cried for the fact that he didn't love her. But most of all he cried for himself, his own shame at being alive.

Peaky Blinders Taglist:

@queenofkings1212 @severewobblerlightdragon @cl5369 @fairypitou @stressedandbandobessed7771 @shadow-of-wonder @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns @curled-hair-red-lips @lucystivinsky1315 @lovemisshoneybee

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders tommy shelby #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fiction #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fic

[galaxycunt]

I Can Be Anything

1.5k words of silly little fun 😙 I promise

Listening to this while I wrote it hehe

A loud heckle cut through his story, “bull fucking shit, man!”

Buggy snapped his head in the direction of the woman pounding back beers two seats down. She didn’t look much older than him, carrying herself like she had decades more experience. Laughing, she rested her head in her palm like she expected him to do something about it.

”I’m new in town so I’ll let it slide that you don’t recognize me at first, sweetie.”

“Oh,” she smirked, “didn’t know the circus was in town. My bad.”

Buggy was leaning into his appearance, still didn’t appreciate the comparisons. But if this bitch was looking for a fight, she’ll get one.

”That’s right, it’s me. Buggy the Clown. The Genius Jester.”

”My mistake,” she stood up to curtesy, “my sincerest apologies. Didn’t realize you were the king of the clowns.”

The pirates in earshot laughed at his expense. A fight it is. Buggy gulped the last of his bottle, yanking back her hair. She yelped with a surprise, he couldn’t tell if her cheeks were flushed from the drink or something else.

She was pretty, long hair separated into two braids, tattoos of a career sailor, rope burns branded into her throat. All that admiring left him distracted, the woman stamping on his foot.

”Next time I’ll cut that hand off!”

”Oh yeah? Well listen up cu-“

”-oi! You two break any of my nice antique stools, I break your skulls. Got it?” The bartender cut in.

”Look at the guy, Jim. He ain’t scaring me,” she winked.

Buggy decided to brush her off, but she wouldn’t stop pestering him. Every time he told a joke, she laughed loud and sarcastic. Buggy was here to find a crew, stealing a ship and making a name for himself. Every time he approached someone, she was there.

”He’s gonna lead you straight to the depths, he can’t even get his lipstick to stay!”

”Oh, Stevie, don’t go. Sea Kings don’t like clowns, they taste funny!”

”Marines gonna make your sentence be performing for the troops. Fate worse than death!”

Every single time, a shit eating grin while she got drunker. Buggy just about had it, not wanting to leave and let her win. He sat back at the bar, face buried in his hands. Next thing she said, he told himself, he was going to put her in her place.

”Cigarette?”

”How about you fuck off before I smoke you!” it sounded better in his head.

Her eyes widened, “if you wanted your lips on me, should’ve just said so!”

His cheeks burned with anger and embarrassment, “shut up! Shut the fuck up!”

She stared at him, blowing smoke in his face. As he opened his mouth, she smacked him hard. Buggy flew into a rage, fists flying as he straddled her. A huge mistake, she kicked him right in the groin. As she returned to her seat all smiles, his hands dragged her back down.

”Holy shit! His hands!”

Buggy dragged her across the barroom floor as she struggled, attempting slice something. Cursing as his body put itself back together again.

Buggy dragged her to the back alley behind the bar, reveling at how disheveled she looked now. Disembodied hands picked her up, feet not touching the ground so they could be eye level.

”No one, and I mean no one, fucks with Buggy The Clown.”

”Devil Fruit, huh? Kinda cheating, don’t you think?”

He enjoyed watching her squirm, “since when do pirates fight fair?”

”Touché,” she said butting heads.

Still no use, his hands in an iron grip as he writhed on the ground. She kicked his ribs for good measure, hands finally letting her go.

What a funny little clown.

The woman had a good laugh at his expense, unaware that Buggy was right behind her. He hit her over the head with his fists.

“What did I fucking say!”

”Ow! Fuck! Alright, alright!”

They sized each other up, she couldn’t take down a devil fruit user so easily. She was going to take a shot at it anyway, she wasn’t a coward.

”What’s your name anyway?”

She smiled, “Mad Dog Mara. Bet you heard of that.”

He did, the pirate who survived a hanging, killing the marines involved. So mad, she did it twice.

“Join my crew.”

”You fucking with me?”

”You scared away your competition, what else is a man supposed to think?”

”I only join real crews.”

A knife flew past her, “I’m a real fucking pirate. You’re looking at the fucking king.”

She charged at him, Buggy bracing himself. Their knives dug into flesh at the same time, his torso separated, hers did not.

“Right on, Buggy The Clown.”

He didn’t pull the knife out, “holy shit.”

She smiled, “upstairs I got a room. No need for a doctor. If you really ain’t gonna kill me.”

Carefully he picked her up, carrying her bridal style up to her room. Buggy knew a few tricks, using the first aid in her room. She fought a lot, the box littered with dried bloody fingerprints.

“Cut the top off, ruined anyway.”

She watched him work, with a gentleness he didn’t give her before. Her heart jumped up her throat, maybe this was it. Funny way to go, a clown to match.

”Don’t be like that, you survived worse.”

”Hm? Oh yeah, just gotta breathe through it. That’s all.”

He nodded, cleaning the wound as best he could. She felt the need to make a joke of the whole thing, she wasn’t used to someone else helping her out.

”Not the way I wanted you to take my top off,” she smiled at his red face, ”You’re new to this aren’t you?”

”Nope.”

”Is that right?”

He nodded, “served on a crew. My whole life. Went my own way at 15. Didn’t look back.”

He said the last part quieter, like he didn’t fully believe it himself. She knew that all too well.

”Hand me that bottle, I’m ready for the stitches.”

He let her squeeze his arm as he worked, “how’d you survive that execution?”

Her eyes glossed over, “rope broke the first time. I was there for hours. I prayed to whoever wanted to listen, ‘wasn’t I a child of this world? Don’t I deserve to live too?’ And then it broke.”

”And the second time?”

”I like you Buggy, so I’ll let you in on my trade secret. I kept a whistle in my throat. Lets me breathe.”

”Huh.”

She smiled, “what’s it like? Eating that fruit?”

He frowned, not answering her for a moment. He bandaged her up, taking a swig of her bottle. Watching the liquid pour down her throat, the way it moved as she gulped.

”It tastes like shit. A little unfair in the end, all those wonderful powers made useless with a few splashes of water. Some pirate I am.”

”Made it this far.”

”Yeah.”

They stared at each other in a comfortable silence. He was drunk, on the booze and adrenaline, finger grazing her skin along the bandages. Her breath hitched, pulling him closer by the elbow. He had long lashes, fluttering like butterflies. She never seen a man look like him before, and he looked at her like she was the only woman in the world.

Like magnets, they pulled closer together. She could blame the day on this later, she needed him closer. Mara thought she should end fights like this more often. His fingers grazed the wound, a little concerned how good her whiny little moans sounded to him.

“Join my crew,” he said between kisses, “be my first mate.”

Buggy watched her squirm beneath him with stars in her eyes, it made him feel like the spotlight was on him. Relishing in the attention.

”Sure. As long as you keep doing that, right there.”

He was burning up, a spell cast upon him. She could make him do anything. The room was on fire, he needed to reach his release but he drew it out longer. His head spun, his brain catching up with him.

He helped her clean up, and change into something clean and dry. Carefully they snuggled up together. Buggy kept telling her their next plans, Mara threw out a few people she figured would be a good addition to his ship. And then they planned to get a bigger one.

”I’ll make you my queen, that I promise.”

”Unless I find it first, then I’ll be the king, right?”

“So I just sit around looking pretty?”

”You already have better hair than me. Why not?”

He laughed, “whatever you say, baby.”

Buggy waited for her at the dock, she insisted she would just need a check up with a doctor and would be ready to sail. He waited hours, unsure of where the doctor would be. The sun was setting, he went looking for her.

The doctor wouldn’t look him in the eye, his office showed signs of a struggle.

“Where is she? What happened?”

”Marines. Undercover.”

Buggy’s eyes widened. He needed to save her, by any means necessary.

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x oc #buggy x you #Spotify

[ozmatippetarius]

also think everybody needs to go back and read this passage again

“She’s from Hell,” Charles said drunkenly. “Oh, she’s not that bad,” said Francis. “You just say that because she kisses up to you all the time,” Charles said. “Because of your mother and stuff.” “Kiss up? What are you talking about? Mrs. Corcoran doesn’t kiss up to me.” “She’s awful,” Charles said. “It’s a horrible thing to tell your kids that money’s the only thing in the world, but it’s a disgrace to work for it. Then toss ’em out without a penny. She never gave Bunny one red—” “That’s Mr. Corcoran’s fault, too,” said Camilla. “Well, yeah, maybe. I don’t know. I just never met such a bunch of greedy, shallow people. You look at them and think, oh, what a tasteful, attractive family but they’re just a bunch of zeros, like something from an ad. They’ve got this room in their house,” Charles said, turning to me, “called the Gucci Room.” “What?” “Well, they painted it with a dado, sort of, those awful Gucci stripes. It was in all kinds of magazines. House Beautiful had it in some ridiculous article they did on Whimsy in Decorating or some absurd idea—you know, where they tell you to paint a giant lobster or something on your bedroom ceiling and it’s supposed to be very witty and attractive.” He lit a cigarette. “I mean, that’s exactly the kind of people they are,” he said. “All surface. Bunny was the best of them by a long shot but even he—” “I hate Gucci,” said Francis. “Do you?” said Henry, glancing up from his reverie. “Really? I think it’s rather grand.” “Come on, Henry.” “Well, it’s so expensive, but it’s so ugly too, isn’t it? I think they make it ugly on purpose. And yet people buy it out of sheer perversity.” “I don’t see what you think is grand about that.” “Anything is grand if it’s done on a large enough scale,” said Henry.

Charles mourning how much his dead friend was fucked up by his family’s shallow, loveless treatment of him and their obsession with consumerism, and Francis and Henry interrupting to have their own vapid conversation totally exhibiting the behavior he was condemning, with no self-awareness whatsoever: this is the TSH experience.

#also i know people like to describe tsh as ‘unintentionally funny’ but the irony very much is intentional you can laugh #the secret history #henry winter #charles macaulay #francis abernathy

[astrum-aetherium]

what do you think the greek class would think of vapes?

amusingly, i’ve already discussed this topic at astounding length with my friends, lol. something about embedding that pretentious, out-of-touch, aesthetically focused group into a modern framework is just so incredibly comical. let’s break it down.

i mean, all of them are already heavily addicted to all those other things that harm your body: cigarettes, alcohol, excessive medication… you name it. i think we’re all fooling ourselves in thinking that they would be opposed to vaping because it’s a generally new, modern concept, and doesn’t exactly fit into the aesthetic category of dark academia. they could be against indulging in them, of course, but then again, it’s nicotine. in a dire moment, none of them would say no (saying this as a smoker who would never decline a vape at a dire time). except maybe henry (for obvious reasons) or bunny who would be convinced the government was putting something in those things to establish mind control, or something.

charles would be the main consumer of them all. he would have a vape or two on him at all times, all disposables because he doesn’t give a fuck. flavor-wise, he’s a watermelon or green apple kind of guy. but he’ll take anything. if you smell that sickly sweet chemical vapor, you just know the vape is coming from his nose or mouth. he’d be addicted, for sure. i’m talking throwing tantrums when his last one runs dry or he can’t find it in his pocket kind of addicted. a literal child with a pacifier.

let’s face it, and i’m just going to say it: richard would want to consume, but he wouldn’t have the money for it. therefore i think he’d just sneak singular ones of charles’ into his pockets when he isn’t looking. stealing whatever he can get his hands on and then hiding it in his sleeve like a teenager to take a hit so charles wouldn’t notice. or: charles would feel charitable and just give him one of his out of the kindness of his heart (given that there is a corner store selling them nearby so he can stock back up).

camilla is a strawberry/raspberry/grape flavor type of girl. however, i do see her with a watermelon vape as well, probably one charles got her because he thought she would like the same thing he does. she wouldn’t be as heavily addicted; she would still prefer cigarettes (henry’s influence). still, she would be hitting 100%. i mean, her brother would be the main consumer of the group. she’d have a vape of her own on her at all times.

aesthetically, i wanna say francis wouldn’t indulge, but then again, who are we kidding. he defended cigarettes saying they’re good for you and doctors are just gaslighting us about their harm. he would definitely vape. oh, and how he would love the sweet, fruity taste. however, he’d get tired of it fast, so i definitely see him always having two polar opposite vapes on him, large (like one of those walkie-talkie-looking ones) and refillable: one of them almost strangely sweet, like bubblegum or cotton candy, and then a plain, nicotine-flavored one. like an upper and a downer. it’d be a constant mix.

i can see henry yielding to the convenience of vapes despite all aesthetic objections. of course, he’d still predominantly smoke, but he would have his trusted little vape concealed in the pocket of his coat or in his bag for emergencies. he would definitely be the type of person with a refillable, plain-flavored one, though. the one you take a hit of out of curiosity and immediately regret it because it tastes like sewer water and burns your throat. and then he has the audacity to say he enjoys it. everyone would roll their eyes at him because the fruity, sweet taste is part of the experience — an experience he obviously wouldn’t want!

as i said, bunny would be opposed to vapes for political reasons. his parents or brothers will have told him some bullshit propaganda lie about vapes and he’d think they make you grow a new limb or funnel surveillance chips into your brain or something. he would 110% be the type of guy to yell about how bad they are, only to tearfully beg for a hit when he’s drunk and then mysteriously “lose” it when you ask for it back and then proceed to empty that shit out on the same night. the full cartridge. definitely the hypocritical kind of consumer. annoying as hell and always preaching when he’s very much indulging behind closed doors.

bonus addition: judy would vape like it’s nobody’s business. her dorm room would constantly be enshrouded in vapor. one hit after the other, no-longer-can-walk-up-the-stairs-without-heaving sort of addiction. she would definitely have a refillable one, cherry-flavored mainly but also a venturer into blueberry ice. she’d yell at you for using disposables, saying how bad it is for the environment, too. giving you shop recommendations where you could get refillables. a very conscious girl.

#astrum asks #i love elaborating on things like these #the secret history #dark academia #henry winter #camilla macaulay #charles macaulay #francis abernathy #bunny corcoran #judy poovey #richard papen #love this prompt so much #they totally would be #like let’s be serious #aesthetics aside #it’s still nicotine #and it tastes nice

[dreamy625]

One-shot - Barbie

Content: Casual drinking and smoking

Words: 2670

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

Steve is considering a third drink and determinedly ignoring the clock over the bar as it ticks on from fashionably late to may-as-well-not-bother when he hears in a throaty drawl from behind him:

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns…”

His face breaks into a broad grin, “Barbie!”

“Don’t…” she kisses him on one cheek, “...call me Barbie...” and then the other, “Stevie.”

She hops up on the neighbouring bar stool and reaches for the pack of cigarettes in front of him.

“I knew it was you the second I saw your hair; still bulk-buying the peroxide I see!”

“Still putting your lipstick on with a trowel I see!” he counters, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand before waving to the bartender. “Gin and tonic, no ice, lime not lemon. And another one of these please.”

“So what brings you to my part of town? Do they not have pubs in Chelsea?”

“I’m supposed to be at a party. Industry bigwigs. Journalists. Mensch is making me go.”

“To prove you haven’t been kicked out of the band?”

“You’ve heard the rumours then?”

“Oh yes. But then I also heard you married a stripper and moved to Vegas, so…” she shrugs.

“That sounds more fun. Nah, it just goes on like it always does - do this, do that, don’t do that. The same old merry-go-round. Ages to go on the new record before we can get back out on the road again.” Their drinks arrive and he pushes a five-pound note across the bar. “And you’ve been conspicuous by your absence this past year, what have you been up to?”

“Oh you know, bit of writing, bit of design work. Plying my trade wherever they’ll have me.”

“How many countries this time?”

“Only three so far this year - Greece, Japan, and LA of course.”

“Ahh, jealous, I loved Japan. I’ve just gone back and forth to Dublin about four million times. Joe built his own studio,” he explains.

“Convenient.”

“For Joe it is. Phil’s in the US and Rick’s back in Holland, so the rest of us are clocking up a lot of airmiles.”

“You’ve not considered moving?”

“Nah, I’m settled where I am. Travelling’s good, but I want somewhere to come home to, somewhere that speaks proper English.” 

There’s something he’s carefully not saying and Barbara, of course, hears it loud and clear. “So where’s that American girlfriend of yours?”

“Which one?” asks Steve, lighting another cigarette and offering the packet to his companion. “Don’t matter anyway, answer’s the same - gone, got sick of me and buggered off to pastures new.”

“Oh sweetheart,” She pats his hand before reaching for the matches. “Always unlucky in love.” 

“Ain’t that the truth. Inexplicable really,” he looks down at the countertop before flicking his eyes up to hers, “when I have such good taste in women.”

Barbara laughs, not quite the reaction he’d been hoping for. “Very good Clarkie, have you been practising that?”

“Whaddya mean, works every time.” He turns his head to hide the blush threatening to colour his cheeks and motions to the barman for more drinks. Serves him right for assuming. Changing tack, he asks, “Are you here on your own?”

“Are you about to ask what a nice girl like me is doing in a place like this?”

“I know what you’re doing in here - chatting up strange men so you can pinch their cigarettes! I merely wished to enquire about your social arrangements.”

“Ah, very proper. I came in with some people from the magazine I’ve been writing for, but they’re going for a curry, so I guess I’m footloose and fancy free.”

“Good to know, thank you kindly.” He stubs out the cigarette, pondering his next move…

“Do you want to drink that?” She nods at the double brandy the bartender has just placed in front of him. “Or do you want to come home with me?”

“Can’t I do both?”

“From past experience, no,” smirks Barbara with a flick of her eyes down to his lap.

Steve blinks once before making the fastest decision of his life, pushing the glass back across the bar and dropping down from the bar stool almost in one movement.

A short walk brings them to a three-storey townhouse, not unlike his own, but this one, and the others in the terrace, has been split into flats and has the slightly dilapidated, uncared-for look common to buildings housing an ever-changing population of tenants. Barbara’s flat is on the third floor; high ceilings and fancy wallpaper, but just two rooms. Almost every time he saw her, she was living in a different short-term rental, squat, or half-empty house-sitting gig. The perpetual rolling stone, wherever she lay her hat was her home; although in Barbara’s case the ‘hat’ was three tea chests full of books and records, scarves and tapestries from far-flung places to cover every surface, and a stuffed parrot on a perch. Which meant that every place looked and smelt the same - like a poorly-kept antique store - and Steve would always feel himself being watched by a beady avian eye as he stumbled around in the middle of the night looking for yet another unfamiliar bathroom.

“So let me give you the tour.” Barbara takes three steps into the middle of the living room and does a slow twirl with her arms out. “This concludes our tour.”

“Nice. Frank’s looking well.” He waves to the parrot, so-named for its uncanny resemblance to Frank Zappa, receiving the usual glass-eyed stare in return. 

“So, d’you want a drink?” 

Steve shakes his head. 

“Or coffee?”

Another shake.

“Or…”

Steve smiles a lazy smile. “C’mere.”

Barbara tilts her chin up in mock defiance, but walks towards his open arms, peeling her coat off as she goes.

“I’ve missed you, Barbie.”

“Don’t call me…” The rest of the sentence dissolves into a muffled ‘mmph’ as Steve presses his lips to hers.

Her eager response is both exciting and warmly familiar - hers is a body he knows so well and returns to with delight - and as he works on ridding them both of extraneous clothing on the way to the bedroom, his only concern is picking the correct closed door and not ending up in a broom cupboard!

Later, satisfied and spent, with his girl curled up next to him and tracing drowsy circles on his chest, he lets his mind wander through memories of their long and convoluted relationship. 

Barbara had always roused a mixture of emotions. She was beautiful, charming, clever, and had a worldly sophistication that had been incredibly exotic to a boy who’d barely left Yorkshire. He’d been mesmerised by her from the first meeting, and the years of chance encounters and brief liaisons had done little to diminish her allure. On one hand, she was easy to be with, probably one of, no, the only, person he felt completely comfortable with. She didn’t expect anything of him, or want anything from him. Other than the obvious, which he gave gladly and enthusiastically. Even then, on the few occasions too much booze had made that impossible, she seemed equally happy to sort herself out (which in itself had been a notable lesson in his education in the ways of the modern woman). But on the other hand, why didn’t she want more? Why did she always slip from his grasp just when he’d started to believe that this was more than a dalliance? For Steve, who’d always fallen in love so easily and so completely, the only conclusion was that there was something wrong with him - why else would you so willingly let someone into your bed, but be so unwilling to let them into your heart? His only comfort was that she was, at least, consistent in her inconsistency; each time she would wriggle free but, eventually, there would be another postcard, another message on the answerphone. And each time there would be a tiny spark of hope; this time, maybe this time, she was tired of wandering… 

Steve woke to the sound of a lorry reversing, watery sunlight sneaking through the gap in the curtains, and absolutely no idea where he was. Then he registered the warmth of another body loosely spooned against his back and the familiar scent of Yves Saint Laurent Opium. Oh yeah. With a smile on his face he drifts back to sleep.

The second time he wakes is less peaceful - it sounds like someone in the street repeatedly throwing a tin bath down a flight of stairs.

Beside him, Barbara yawns and mutters, “Bin day.” And then, “What time is it?”

He gropes for his watch discarded on the bedside table and squints at the dial. “Just gone nine.”

She groans and rolls out of bed, lifting a silk dressing gown from its hook on the back of the door before vanishing through it. Steve hears the protesting grumble of an old cistern and then running water. Sliding reluctantly from under the warm heavy quilt, he picks up his shirt from the floor and, pulling it on, follows the sound to a tiny bathroom housed in what he can only assume was originally, before the advent of indoor plumbing, a cupboard. Manoeuvring past Barbara - standing at the sink squeezing toothpaste from a crumpled tube - he pisses in the practically antique toilet and pulls the chain. Putting an arm around either side of her, he rinses his hands under the running tap, giving an involuntary shudder at the icy temperature. He shakes off the water, ‘accidentally’ flicking a few drops at Barbara’s face, which makes her wrinkle up her nose, then wraps his arms around her. She squeaks as his cold hands make contact, but he just hugs tighter. Looking in the mirror above the basin, and trying to ignore whatever sticking-up tangle his hair has knitted itself into overnight, he studies their combined reflection.

When they first got together they’d seemed an ill-suited pairing - he, younger in both looks and life experience than his nineteen years, and she, at thirty, a woman in her prime living a life packed with travel and culture. To the casual observer they may have appeared more like teacher and student than lovers. But they shared the same slightly off-the-wall sense of humour, and the same hunger to see the world and devour all it had to offer, and they had been instantly compatible in the bedroom, so it had worked well enough in the short snatches of time they had together. Now, time and, let’s be honest, a less-than-healthy lifestyle, had turned Steve’s once boyish features into something still handsome but more weathered than one might expect at twenty-nine, while Barbara, aside from a few deepened lines around her eyes, had barely aged in the intervening ten years. Their faces in the mirror matched, they looked like a real couple. 

“Do you have to go to work?” When she shakes her head, the brush still in her mouth, he ducks his head and kisses her neck just beneath her ear. “Come back to bed then.”

Afterwards, propped up against crumpled pillows and sharing the last cigarette in the packet, Steve feels a rare sense of calm and contentment, clear-headed and with a pleasant ache in a few muscles he hadn’t given that kind of workout in a while.

“We could go out for breakfast? Or do anything really. What would you like to do?”

“What I’d like to do is lie on a chaise longue sipping a mimosa, but what I actually have to do is pack and fly to Buenos Aires at six o’clock.”

Steve’s face falls. “Buenos Aires? What for?”

“An editing job. One of those Rough Guide-type things.”

“When will you be back?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s a one-way ticket.” She glances around the once-grand but now rather tatty bedroom. “I’m subletting my sublet, so there’s nothing I need to come back for.”

“Nothing?” asks Steve, trying not to pout.

“Oh darling,” she reaches out a hand and presses her finger against the protruding lip, “don’t look at me like that. I’ll always be there for you, you know that. It’ll just be on the other end of a phone line for a while. Or you’re bound to be in Argentina sooner or later.”

Steve drops his head onto her shoulder. He knows how this will go, how it always goes, but he can’t stop himself. “But what if I want more than the occasional phone call?”

He feels more than hears her sigh. “You can’t always have what you want.”

“But why not?”

“Because you don’t just want more, you want everything - the wife waiting at home with your dinner on the table, the 2.4 apple-cheeked children, a lawn to mow on a Sunday morning. You want happy ever after. And that’s not what I want. I couldn’t do that if I tried.”

“But it must mean something, that we keep ending up together? Maybe you are meant to be my fairytale ending.”

“Sweetie, we shagged in a closet the night we met, that’s not a fairytale, that’s a Jackie Collins novel!”

“That was your idea! I was nineteen, I’d never met anyone like you, what was I going to do? Say no? I’d’ve bought you a candlelit dinner if you’d let me!”

“You would as well. You were such a sweet little thing.”

Steve attempts to refute this with a growling sneer, but Barbara just laughs and pats his leg. 

“Anyway, my big tough rockstar, unless you’re going to help me pack, I think it’s time for you to get going. There’s probably still a couple of teabags left. I will forgo my usual disdain of domesticity and make you a cup of tea while you get dressed?”

“Ohh-kaay,” he agrees reluctantly, shivering as she throws back the duvet.

In the kitchenette, she hands him a mug of dark brown liquid. “Sorry, the milk was making a determined effort to become cheese. But it is Yorkshire tea so…”

“Aye, that’ll do. Glad you got something from me at least.”

“Everything else cleared up with penicillin.”

“Cheeky!”

Barbara starts to load plates, washed and unwashed, into a cardboard box. “Pass me those spoons would you.” She drops them haphazardly on top of the crockery. “That girlfriend of yours, is it really over?”

“Yeah. She went off with someone else. Bit of a relief if I’m honest. Not my best decision ever.”

“Not her, the other one, the model.”

“Lorelei.” Steve leans back against the fridge and gazes at the flaking paint on the ceiling. “I royally fucked that one up. No way back there.” 

“That’s sad. She seemed nice.”

“She is nice. Too nice. She deserves better.”

Barbara moves to stand in front of him. There is love in her expression, but also something steely. 

She reaches up and strokes his cheek. “You’re too hard on yourself. Your perfect girl is out there somewhere, I know it.”

“In Argentina?” he asks plaintively.

She shakes her head, “Don’t.” She takes the mug from his hand, pours the dregs down the sink, and adds it to the box. 

Steve understands that he’s being dismissed and picks up his jacket from the back of the chair.

“Now, do you want custody of Frank? I’m not sure the new tenants will appreciate him.”

Steve eyes the slightly moth-eaten bird without enthusiasm. “No offence Frank, but you’re not much of a substitute.”

By the door, he bends to pull on his boots, then pats his pockets - keys, wallet, matches, must remember to get more ciggies on the way home. 

“Bye then. Have a good trip.”

“I’ll write. Promise.”

“You’d better.” He pulls her into a tight hug and drops a kiss on her forehead. “Look after yourself, okay.”

“Don’t worry, I always do.” 

She slides back the bolt and opens the door wide onto the shabby, faintly cabbagey-smelling, landing. Steve looks back as he reaches the stairs, but the door is already closed.

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

I’m sorry, I had to break his heart just a tiny bit :/

For context, irl Barbara Salisbury was Steve’s on and off lover from the very early days (she was a publicist for their first record company) until, well, it’s not clear if they ever stopped seeing each other. She was described as very independent and free-spirited and I often wonder how our romantic traditionalist coped with that.

#steve clark #steve clark fanfic #steve clark fanfiction #def leppard fanfic #def leppard fanfiction

[lightmeuplivly]

The Science Project

eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

summary: you get paired with eddie for a science project...

warnings: cursing, not following the scientific method

word count: 2.1k

AN: this is based on a scenario I made before i went to sleep last night 😭

(not my gif)

It all started Monday morning in Mr. Robinson’s science class…

“Okay class this week we are going to be doing a partner science experiment.”

You got excited and looked at one of your best friends from your cheerleading squad, Lisa. (change if that’s your name)

 “But, you are not going to be picking your own partners, I will. First ones up, Christine Cunninngham and Jennifer Smith”

Your smile dropped. You were sure that you would get paired up with some dick from the basketball team. You were a nice person and were very friendly to everyone but the guys on the basketball team were straight up bullies. Jason, the captain, always bullied the outsiders, and he always bullied Eddie Munson. You always liked Eddie even since middle school. You thought he was kinda cute and never deserved what was handed to him.

“Lisa Marshall and Jason Carver”

She looked at you with pure horror. She hated him just as much as you do. Really almost the whole squad couldn’t stand him besides Chrissy. 

“Last but definitely not least Y/N Y/L/N and Eddie Munson.”

Well that was a surprise. For both of you. Over the years you had only talked to him a handful of times. By the time you made it to high school you developed a small crush on him, but you always thought that he didn’t like you. To him, he thought you were the most gorgeous girl he had ever laid his eyes on. 

You walked over to his desk in the back of the class. This could be good, maybe by the time this is over you guys could be friends.

“Hey Eddie, I know you don’t know me much but I’m happy that I got paired with you instead of the guys from the basketball team” you chuckled.

He was surprised to hear that from you. He thought since you were a cheerleader that one of the players could possibly be your boyfriend.

“I didn’t know you think that way sweetheart”

You covered your face while blushing. How did he already make you blush?

You laughed, “ So , umm, after school I was wondering if we could work on the project at maybe your house?”

“Sure yeah, we can ride together in my van?”

“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll see you later Eddie” you smiled and went back to your desk for the rest  to hear Mr. Robinson tell you the requirements for the project.

As the day went on you couldn’t help but feel giddy. “Hey Y/N, why are you smiling so much?” you were at lunch with Lisa staring off into nowhere thinking about Eddie. 

“Oh, I know what this is about. It’s because you got paired with Eddie” she said in a sing-song voice while poking your cheek.

“Oh, quit it. We’re only doing a science project together, besides he’d never like me anyway”

“Shut up Y/N. He’s so lucky that you like him. You are the total package: hot, kind, and smart.”

“Thanks Lisa, You’re the best” you hugged her and finished your lunch.

When the school day came to a close you stood outside waiting for Eddie. A few moments later he came out and ran towards you.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I got caught up a little with my friends but now I’m all yours”

You liked the sound of that.

���It’s fine Eddie. Ready to go?”

“ Yeah I’m ready.”

The walk to his car was silent. But both of your minds were running rampant with thoughts about the other. When you got in his van you were hit with the smell of his cologne and cigarettes. You didn’t mind though.

“You mind if I turn on some music?”

“No, not at all. It’s your car.”

He popped in a Queen cassette. When you started mouthing the lyrics to the song. His eyebrows shot up.

“I didn’t know you listened to this music. I thought you liked Madonna or Whitney Huston or something”

“What? I mean yeah they’re great but Queen is better.”

That just made him like you ten times more.

“Okay since you have ‘taste’ what’s your top three?”

“Not in any particular order Dio, Metallica, and obviously Queen.” 

When he heard that he wanted to turn his van around and drive straight to the courthouse to marry you. He would have never thought that his crush since sixth would love the same bands as him.

“Hm, I guess you do have taste” he looked at you with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Well, I could’ve told you that. What’s your top three?”

“Actually they’re the same as yours.”

You couldn’t hold back your smile but you had to play it cool.

“Interesting I guess you also have good taste”

A few minutes later you pulled up to his trailer. Right you guys had to work on a science project. You were too distracted with laughing and blushing to remember why you were actually going to his house.

You and Eddie got out of the van and went inside. You guys sat down in his living room and pulled out your books. 

“Hey I was thinking maybe for our project we could make something blow up” He said with a playful face.

“ I mean that wouldn’t be the worst idea” smiling at him “I have an idea,” “alright what is it?”

You stood up fastly “ okay I need dish soap, hydrogen peroxide and yeast. Do you have any of that here?”

“Yeah I got that stuff. What are you up to princess?”

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

_

After getting all the things together you told him your plan.

“Okay Eds, I-”

“Eds? Hm I like that nickname”

You giggled behind your hand “Okay I’ll keep calling you that from now on”

After showing him the experiment he was esatic.

“HOLY SHIT Y/N that was badass. How did you come up with this?”

“Well when you get bored you just start mixing things together”

“Woah princess, this whole time I didn’t know you were badass”

“Guess there's a lot you don’t know about me Eds”

He just smiled and laughed “ I guess not”

You looked at the clock and gasped “Oh shit” It was 9:30 your parents wanted you home by 8:30.

“I’m sorry Eddie but I have to go home I’m already and hour late”

“Oh shit , that’s my bad. I’ll take you home.” That was sweet of him, really really sweet.

“It’s okay you really don’t have to do that”

“No it’s okay I want to and I’m kinda the reason you’re late.” He really just wanted more time alone with you even though you guys would probably be together all week.

“Okay fine but only because I don’t want my parents to be more pissed at me than they probably are now”

While in the van he put in a Metallica cassette and you both jammed out on your way home. He turned down the radio when he pulled up in front of your home.

“So I guess I'll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, most definitely.” 

When you left the van he already missed you. You both went to sleep that night dreaming about each other. 

The next day instead of going home after school you and Eddie both decided to work in the school library. For a guy who had to repeat his senior year twice he was really smart.

“So Mr. Robinson said we need theory so what do you have in mind, Eds?”

“I was thinking that maybe yeast makes the difference?”

“Yeah that’s good we can go with that”

After a few more hours of work it was time to go home. You had your friend pick you up so you wouldn’t cause Eddie more trouble. But he didn’t care. He loved spending time with you, if was jamming out in his car or working on a project.

“Hey, Y/N I won’t be able to work on this tomorrow I hope it’s okay”

“Oh that’s fine Eds, we’re practically done anyway we can just get the presentation together on thursday.

Still loved when you called him that.

“I, umm, actually have hellfire tomorrow and I was wondering if you would like to come”

This made your heart pound. Eddie Munson wanted you to come to his Hellfire meeting. You were just standing there with a blank face and it made him nervous.

“I mean, y-you don’t have to I just thoug-”

“I would love to” you smiled and laughed at his nervous state.

“Great I’ll see you there”

_

The next day at lunch Lisa could tell something was wrong. 

“Y/N you okay?”

You looked up from your food to look at her. The truth was you were anxious about Hellfire. What if they didn’t like you? What if you embarrassed Eddie? What if Eddie didn’t want to be friends with you anymore if you messed up? All these thoughts and more were running through your head.

“Hm? Oh nothing”

Lisa wasn’t convinced

“What’s wrong? Trouble in paradise?” She smirked at you

You rolled your eyes “Shut up.”

Her eyes turned serious. “Seriously, what's wrong?”

“I’m just a little anxious. Eddie asked me to go to his Hellfire meeting and I just don’t want to mess things up with him.”

Lisa could tell you really cared about him. It was cute seeing you crush so hard on a boy.

“Hey, everything is going to be okay. You’re just gonna go in there be yourself and everyones gonna love you” she really made you feel better that’s why she was your best friend.

“Ughh, this is why I love you” you said while hugging her.

“Yeah, I know I’m the best”

“Moment ruined”

You sat back down and listened to her talk about some college boy she was crushing on.

_

Five minutes til Hellfire…

You were in the girls bathroom because you thought you were about to puke up your lunch. You had never been this nervous in your life. This was getting a little pathetic you thought. You splashed some water on your face and left for the drama room. When you got to the door you looked in through the window to see that almost all the seats around the table were taken except one that was right next to Eddie. That must be your seat. 

After taking a deep breath you twisted the handle and walked in. Everyone's head in the room turned up to look at you.

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding” a curly head boy said.

“Told ya. Anyway guys I would like you to meet a good friend of mine Y/N Y/L/N”

You didn’t like that word. Friend. You wanted to be more than just his ‘good friend’.

“Hi everyone it’s great to finally meet you”

Everyone started to ask you questions all at once. The ones you caught were ‘How did you meet Eddie?’ ‘How long have you guys been friends?’ and the one that caught your attention the most was ‘Are you two dating?’ you wish. When you sat next to Eddie all that anxiousness went away. He smiled at you and just like that you were okay.

During your time there you found out names and you picked up on how to play a little. And now you have three new friends, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike. They were really nice to you, especially Dustin. Also during your time there you stole a few glances at Eddie. He looked so pretty being in charge and everything. You were having so much fun but like they say time flies when you’re having fun. But you had to talk to Eddie before you left.

“Eds, thank you so much for inviting me I had the funnest time”

He was surprised you felt this way. Maybe you liked spending time with him just as much as he liked spending time with you.

“You’re welcome, didn’t think you were going to enjoy it that much. We’re all just a bunch of nerds playing a fantasy game”

“No, I love it here and maybe I want to be a nerd too”

God, He was falling in love.

His silence made you feel a little less confident.

“I mean if you don’t want me to join I don’t have too-”

He cut you off with a rough kiss. This definitely caught you off guard. Your stomach filled with butterflies and you obviously kissed him back. He held the sides of your face with his hands. His rings felt cool on your cheeks. When you separated you just let it all out.

“Eddie, I have had a crush on you since freshman year. 

“Well I’ve had a crush on you since sixth grade so I win” with that he leans in for another kiss.

For the first time in your life you actually had to thank Mr. Robinson.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #st4 #eddie munson fluff #stranger things s4 #stranger things #eddie my love #joseph quinn #stranger thing s4 #munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson st4 #stranger things season 4 #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic

[strangelockd]

How about a smut or fluff whatever you like with Sherlock x reader where the reader is in her early twenties so alot younger than him. But is in head over heels for Sherlock? And he also feels things for her ?

I don't know if this makes sense 😂

Just An Experiment

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Synopsis: You're playing a game with Sherlock when suddenly he has something else on his mind.

Word Count: 646

Warnings: Slight Age Gap, Mutual Pining, If You Squint Enough There Is Some Smut, Thigh Riding, Heavy Petting/Kissing

A/N: Sorry this was a day late I had some family drama. I hope this was worth the wait. I like to think Sherlock is a Nintendo guy.

“I win!”

At least that’s what it felt like until you heard Sherlock give out a small snicker. 

“And whats that supposed to mean?” Your voice slightly annoyed as you sat the nintendo remote down.

Sherlock raised a smile from the corner of his plush lips stating flatly, “It means that I let you win y/n”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff crossing your arms sinking deeper into the leather couch. Sherlock was always a poor winner, but he was more insufferable when he was losing at times. How can a 34-year-old man be such a baby…

“Oh, come on” giving him a playful shove with your foot “lets play something else, I guarantee I’ll kick your butt again old man”

His eyes widened, “I’m only 10 years older than you y/n” he responded calmly.

“Ya which makes you an old sore loser,” you tease deeper reaching for your glass of red wine, “so how about it” taking another sip setting the glass down, “care for another match?”

You notice him setting his remote down slowly on the armrest, “No, I don’t feel like playing that anymore. I have…something else in mind,” Sherlock eyes now trailed to you with that look, the look that makes your stomach flutter and flip all at once. He clearly didn’t want to play Mario Kart anymore. 

Everything was happening so fast now that you didn’t even realize Sherlock was now sitting much much closer. Heart beating faster, you watched him lean in ever so slightly testing the waters of comfort and space. You always had a crush on your friend, but as the years progressed it has become increasingly obvious of your infatuation for each other. So much so that there have been times were you yourself had to shake it off or at most shove the feelings down and put them back on the shelf. Besides, theres no way a genius like Sherlock Holmes would ever go out with a younger woman in her early twenties. 

Eyes widening, you stammered feeling your cheeks flushed a deeper red, “Sh-Sherlock wa-what are you doing?” You whisper softly.

He leaned in facing closer, smelling the slight hint of cigarettes and coffee from his breath. He leaned in, your lips just a hair from each other, “Just an experiment…”

Feeling his breath on your cheek caused the hair on your neck to stand as you closed your eyes welcoming the contact, his lips were warm and inviting causing a weakened sigh to emit from your throat. They parted slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside, the taste of cigarettes and coffee was hypnotizing. His kisses gave promise as your bodies pressed together heatedly against the leather sofa as you bit his lower lip gently causing a grunt to release from Sherlocks chest; he clearly was enjoying himself.

Breathing heavily as your lips pressed together you rolled onto his lap grinding your needy heat against his groin. He rolled his head back in pleasure as you continued your rocking motions; taking the advantage to unbutton his dress shirt leaving his toned frame exposed. 

Threading your fingers through his soft curls to tug his head forward as your lips clashed once more. He could taste the wine on you, feel the thud of your combined heartbeats as you both fought for dominance.

Finding his fingers groping underneath your shirt as he flipped you on your back making you squeak, his perfect form towering over you as he pulled away. His eyes glowing a bright green in the dim light. 

“Shall we continue with the game?” He asked coyly.

Shaking your head, you pull him in for a deep kiss, “no, I would rather have you”

He gazed into your eyes, a warm smile cascading over his face as he stroked your cheek placing a tender kiss upon your lips.

“You’re going to be the death of me y/n”

Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! It inspires me to keep writing. If you want to be tagged in future posts be sure to leave a comment.

A special thanks to the followers who requested to read more of my work. Your all very special to me <3

Back to Main Masterlist

@bakerstreethound @sassenach-on-the-rocks @sherlux @budugu @cemak @blxckdragonfly @seanbeansimp59 @geeky-politics-46 @classickook @sobeautifullyobsessed @doctorstrangeaskblog @withalittlehoney @icytrickster17 @kentucky-criedfricken @hunterofshadows04 @baharnoth @katehawke @thealleydog @stewardofningishzida @lady-harvey @asherloki @withalittlehoney @moonlover-tobefree @dino-fart @deepbatched @purplefeathersandblackleather @marvel-writing

#bbc sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock fanfic #sherlock bbc #sherlock #benedict Cumberbatch fan fiction #benedict Cumberbatch fan fic #sherlock fan fiction #sherlock fandom #sherlock fanfic #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock x reader #sherlock smut #sherlock fluff

[peach-and-bugs]

❤️Natalie Scatorccio NSFW Alphabet❤️ (18+, Minors DNI, you will be blocked)

❤️Read the SFW Alphabet here!❤️

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Warnings: Minor spoiler for Season 2 episode 8! It's all dirty [AFAB Reader/anatomy used if any] (18+, Minors DNI, you will be blocked)

Word Count: 1,359

A/N: Hello lovelies! I know a lot of you wanted it, so here you go! Natalie's nsfw alphabet! She actually was a lot easier to write about than expected, probably because she's so straightforward anyways. Not much more for me to say, so enjoy, and as always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!❤️

Natalie Scatorccio Tag List:

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-❤️-

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

Nat is the type to need a cigarette after sex. I mean, maybe not a cigarette specifically bc I don't remember if she smokes in the show, but in my headcanon it's an every-now-and-then thing for her. But, for whatever reason she never got hooked on it like she did other things. But when it comes to caring for you specifically afterward she’d get you a warm towel to wash up at the very least. Everyone deserves that. But in a committed relationship she’d go as far as running a bath for you if you like and helping you in if it was a rather intense evening

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

She loves your hips, I just know it. No matter what shape or size, she just loves having something to hang onto, ya know? It’s just the perfect spot for her hands and she loves running her thumbs over your stomach

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

I know for a fact that she makes you clean her fingers with your tongue when she’d done with you. She wants you to know exactly what she’s tasting. 

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

Not really a dirty secret but she loves when her partner and this is only in a “serious” relationship (as serious as Natalie will get at least) takes complete control because she gets to be in a state where she’s not in control, but she knows she’s completely safe 

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

Oh, we all know that Ms. Scatorccio knows exactly what she’s doing. When it comes to sex, she’s been around the block and back and she’s always willing to do another lap if she feels the need. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Imma say she enjoys receiving while face-sitting because it's the best of both worlds. She enjoys being on top, but she also likes receiving, and she loves the feeling of your arms and hands tight around her thighs

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

She’s more serious in my opinion. She doesn’t find sex silly. 

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

I think she shaves everything (arms, legs, etc) but not regularly. She's cool with having stubble wherever so long as it's not bothering her.

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

Eh, again it depends on what kind of relationship you’ve got. I think over time she could learn to be romantic, but at the start, sex is a give and take for her. “You get what you need as long as I get what I need,” kind of thing. She’ll never make a big deal out of it though. She might have when she was younger, but she’d far more seasoned now, shall we say. She knows what she wants and that’s her priority

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

She’s gotten good at using her hands because I doubt they let you bring any kind of toy with you to rehab, but she prefers a vibrator some nights

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I think she’d enjoy mirror sex. She’d like watching herself but also forcing you to watch how she makes you feel. She's also into teeth. Like, not necessarily biting, but she likes someone with a nice set of teeth

L = Location (favorite places to do they do)

She’s down for semi-public sex but still wants some privacy so anywhere with a locked door is fair game

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

There isn’t a lot that doesn't turn her on really. Genuine interest in her sexually sometimes is all it takes. But she likes being teased and having her partner play coy with her. It makes her feel like a lady

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

I think after watching S2 Ep 8 this is a given, but knife play…

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

She’s into both but has a fondness for receiving, ngl. This girl firmly insists that she’s a switch but she loves to bottom. Might sound like an oxymoron, but she loves the power she holds while receiving. Digging her hands in your hair and holding you where she wants you, squeezing your head or hand between her legs. Honestly, she’d gladly suffocate you if you let her

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

She’s fast and rough when she’s on top, no questions asked. She likes getting to the point 

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

She’s quite fond of them. If it's guaranteed you’re not getting a night in together she’d gladly take a quickie in a bathroom stall if she needs it

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

Once there is some established relationship I think she’s down to try new things, but she’s not experimenting during a one-night stand, she might have done that before, but by now that’s behind her and she’s only experimenting with established trust from now on

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

I don’t think she has a lot of stamina when it’s her cumming. She can have two, maybe three before she calls it quits. She could probably go for longer but once she’s had one or two she’s satisfied

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

She doesn’t have a wide collection, just a few vibratos that she orders online while drunk and horny on random nights. But she’ll use them now and then with herself and whenever you want if that's something you’re into. I think she’d be really into using one on you while you eat her out. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She’s a big tease. She enjoys being a mean girl sometimes! 

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

I think she’s pretty quiet, but not for any lack of enjoyment. She’s got those breathy moans that swoon from the back of her throat and she tends to suck on her teeth

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

She’s got nice hands. She keeps her nails short, partly because I think she’s a nail-biter, but she has the decency to file them before anything intimate happens so they’re nice and smooth. But she’s got long, thin fingers that really accentuate her knuckles and she’s always got a plethora of rings on so she makes a show of taking them off for you. 

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

She’s quite thin and lanky. I mean, we pretty much saw everything when she was walking around her motel in her bra and her fishnets.

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

It’s definitely high, but she knows she can get what she wants whenever or handle anything she needs on her own, so it's not often a “driver” for her or anything. Unless she’s drunk. If she's with someone she’s deemed as her person and she’s drunk, she wants in your pants as soon as possible

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

She’s not the type to fall asleep after sex. She prefers having some kind of nightcap first (a drink or a cigarette or maybe even both to mix things up. Who knows!) you’re more likely than not to fall asleep before her which is when she makes her graceful exit if she’s not in her bed. However, in a committed relationship she’ll get back in bed with you after whatever “treat” she’s finished and hold you from behind till she knows you’re asleep. She likes kissing your shoulders when you’re naked. But she won't fall asleep that way, eventually turning over to her other side 

#natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio headcanons #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets fanfic #yellowjackets #yellowjackets headcanons #charcater headcanons #character alphabet

[apoptoses]

it’s WIP Wednesday (thank you @desertfangs!) so here’s the two i’ve got lined up for final edits:

[this is from a fic where armand and daniel roleplay as each other for a night, so that daniel can pretend to be the vampire and ‘bite’ armand for fun]

Daniel huffed out a laugh. “What? You want me to do it right now? You’re saying yes?”

“I’m saying I’ll consider it,” Armand said, aloof as he could manage. “But I won’t allow it unless you intend to commit to the role. It would hardly be fun if you didn’t.”

“Jesus. Fucking theater kid,” Daniel joked. “Sometimes I forget what you used to do. I guessI should have known you’d take it this seriously.”

Armand mimicked the way Daniel liked to shrug, so casual and dismissive. “I take everything worth doing seriously, Daniel.”

That’s cute. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him shrug before. I wonder if he’s doing it to act more human. Daniel cocked his head. Armand fixed him with a look, raised his eyebrow as if to say ‘well?’ I guess we’re really doing this.

He was nervous, suddenly, fidgeting with his bottle and trying to figure out where to begin. Well. Armand could help with that.

Quickly Armand reached out. Swapped Daniel’s beer for the glass of whiskey he’d been pretending to nurse all evening, snatched the glasses from his face. He took Daniel’s cigarettes and lighter for good measure as Daniel protested, letting out a little “hey!” as he tried to take them back. But Armand was too quick.

Before Daniel could truly complain Armand had settled his glasses onto his nose and tapped a cigarette out of the pack. Just before he flicked the switch on the lighter he glanced at him and paused.

“Do you mind if I smoke while I interview you? I’m a bit nervous,” Armand said, as though he were the mortal journalist.

[this is from a fic where armand and daniel explore a new kink together, and daniel learns that just because armand can read his thoughts it doesn’t mean he knows exactly what he wants]

Armand frowned. “What do you mean, how does it work? How do I do it?”

“No. Like- how it feels. Is it exactly the same as what a living person experiences?” Daniel asked, absently gesturing with the strawberry pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “When I bite into this strawberry do you taste it just like you were biting into it yourself?”

“It depends.”

“Depends on what?”

Armand said nothing. Times like these he reminded Daniel of an animatronic he’d seen as a child- a fortune teller inside a machine, who, if you put a penny into the slot, would tell your future. Except the day Daniel had brought his pocketful of coins to try it something had been wrong with the thing. It opened its mouth and then the gears in it froze up, rendering it speechless until whatever piece of clockwork inside came unstuck and its mechanical mouth caught up with its recording filled mind.

(“You have a future ahead of you, the likes of which no one would ever believe,” the thing had said- and oh, it really had no idea how right it was.)

Daniel dragged the half eaten strawberry around the rim of the glass, collecting the sugar on the end of it. Even as tipsy as he was, it was impossible not to be aware of Armand’s eyes tracking his movement. The whites of them were painted blood red by the neon light when they followed Daniel’s fingers from the glass to his mouth.

He bit down on the strawberry. Chewed slowly and wondered if he had time to hop up and go to the bathroom before Armand figured out his response.

“It depends on several factors,” Armand finally said. “The individual’s openness to having their thoughts lifted from their mind, their proximity. The intensity of the sensation in question- it all adds up to create something close to experiencing it firsthand. But only if all the necessary factors are perfectly aligned. And if my own knowledge of the person experiencing the thing is strong, all the better.”

Daniel set the little green top of the strawberry onto his slowly growing pile of fruit garnishes, between the pineapple rind and the dessicated lime. He let Armand’s words swim around in his mind, tried to peel back the layers of information to get at what he truly wanted which was-

What was it, exactly? Just to find out what it was like, being immortal and unable to taste something yourself? Or something more?

#apoptoses fic #armand/daniel #the devil's minion #vampire chronicles #vc fic #wip wednesday

[princessangelcake]

dear diary,

i just lied to a doctor at maudsley hospital.

am i crazy?

i told her i binge 3 times a week. she then asked me how many times every 3 months, i said 4. She then said "but you just said you binge 3 a week, so 3 x 4 (weeks) that would be 12 times a month.

i said oh sorry i thought you said… la da la da da.

i tend to do this a lot in therapy. lie. exaggerate. i think i do this because i dont want to be rejected. i dont want to be invalidated again. i crave that doctors approval of "there is something wrong with you and you need to be taken care of" i want to be in the hsopital rotting. im not sure why.

one of my favourite lies has to be "i burn myself with cigarettes" while the cigarette part is true. the burning not so much.

i cant stand fire / heat on my skin. ive cut myself. ive pinched myself, ive banged my head against walls. ive done as much as i can to make myself look like im insane, maybe i am. but all the self harm is deserved. i deserve to feel that pain, deserve to feel stupid. the anatomy of my brain has changed. i no longer feel like myself. i am she. "she was happy" i said when the doctor asked me how my perrsonality was like when i was small.

im sure she knew i was lying. i was not a happy child. i was not. i have internalised everything. i look happy on the outside, which is the facade i want to put up until the 27th of august. when im supposedly meant to be ending my life. i made that up on the spot when i told her. not sure why. but i should be admitted by then. by then i should be able to taste that disgusting hospital food. at least ill be taken care of and loved. liked rather. i like the hospital smell.

the truth is, nobody in this world will ever understand me or my brain. i am too tired to explain i fear. why should anyone be inside of my head?

i told her i tried to hang myself when i was 12, which im sure i did try, yet i cant remember much from my childhood. i feel insane. i feel stupid and pathetic. i dont have any more coping mechanisms.

i told her ive been sexually abused 4 times, which is true, but i only remembered that this morning. before today i forgot all about that. brushed it under the rug "its not a big deal to me" because its not. that's what the woman who raped me 8 years ago told me, like a good girl i shouldn't tell mummy or daddy about this. keep it between us, which i did until this morning, my apologies.

yes my neighbour forced me to lick his dick, yes i was forced onto the bed by my cousin, forcefully fingered and kissed, like a doll that was made to be fucked and abused. that was an uncomfortable experience. of course i consented to it. i was only 11 after all, i had my full consciousnesses. yes me and my sister had continous sexual experiences when i was young, she rubbed pussies with me in the bathroom at night when i was..9, so what? yes oliver tried to have sex with me when i was just a little girl. yes ive experienced a lot of sexual things as a young one.

that doesnt mean i am truamatised, i am not. i am simply just living. stop making it a big deal.

i am sex. sex is who i am. what is wrong with that?

yes i was bullied, verbally degraded, sexually abused, told i was too fat to be attractive to anyone, yes i am all these things. oohhh i am so useless. i am a fuck rag doll to be used and abused. i believe that so strongly.

so, all of these things i mentioned to the doctor, what has any of this got to do with an eating disorder? nothing at all. my mouth just runs and ran during that whole thing.

maybe i shouldn't have lied to the oh so sweet lady doctor, but i needed to. or she wouldn't have taken me seriously. "just another fat fuck of a black girl who thinks she's different. thinks she's sick but she's not".

i would truly end my life there if i was not to be taken seriously.

so, i sit here and await the results of my eating disorder assessment, otherwise known as the string of half-lies i put into the system. i love this country. i am a living breathing object of a lie. everything about me is false. i should not be here. i should not be here at all.

#bpd #borderline blog #vent #bpd vent

[lestatlioncunt]

SPARROW for my beloveds vesper & fenix (ignore the second r ofc but pleaaaaaaaase)

SPARROW..YOUR MIND LEAH ILY

Headcanon Game - A to Z (NS/FW)

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

i would say 2 tops, 3 on a really really good day fdkjsfn fenix gets tired easily by it while vesper by uh career? as a boxer mainly, got to exercise her stamina a whole lot, she’s truly a war machine. also fenix burns most of his energies to try and last as long as possible since vesper’s teasing can go running for a lot and i mean. he’s just a little guy, please don’t make him strain too much miss v. vesper might have a subtle orgasm denyal thing going on

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

depends on the mood but mainly both prefer to go fast and hard, fenix likes to go at it like a rabbit (omg bunny boy....) and vesper loves to comply especially when she’s on top. the times when they go slow is mostly to tease each other: this is something vesper does mainly, when she’s starts to ride him she loves to go slow just to hear him softly beg for more and grip her hips. fenix does the whole slow-to-tease way less, if he has to make her struggle a bit then it’s going to be before he actually gets inside of her, when that point is reached he just wants to fuck hard, peace and love on planet earth 

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

fenix wants to cuddle and maybe kiss a bit and maybe hear a few sweet words, please cuddle your insufferable man he needs to be treated right. vesper would like a bit of pillow talk, makes everything more personal for her, she wants to crack a few jokes and laugh a bit and thank god fenix is good at making her laugh. first thing they do is the cigarette-after-sex thing, oh how stereotypical of them but at this point has become a habit (mainly because of fenix, he feels so sexy, he feels like he’s the moment huh)

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

they surely are on for some experimentations unless it’s something they dislike right off the bat. i guess they would both like a bit of risk, something that could get their blood pumping a little too fast, but nothing too crazy. something they do is public sex so the risk of getting caught makes them satisfied enough, maybe hearing someone swear at them as they get it on in a bathroom. yea, it both scratches fenix’s love for a little risk and vesper’s voyeurism

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

oh besties. fenix loves to perform oral, literally the best thing he could ever do during sex is oral. almost all the time they have sex he needs to “get a little taste”, he gets so into it he’s rocking his hips against the bed. he’s very good at it too, mr. pussy eater extraordinaire. also vesper tends to pull his hair when he’s working his magic and that’s such a win for him

vesper prefers receiving sjhfkj because i mean. yea. she has the right to, fenix is good at that. she doesn’t enjoy that much giving oral to fenix simply because most of the time fenix gets too smug about it, he has the mouth of a sailor and vesper simply goes (flustered emoji, dying emoji), she basically gets very embarassed about it and she HATES being embarassed. she still gives him oral but not as often as fenix does it to her, he doesn’t complain too much, it feels like a special treat for him and if he asked she would do it

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

okay listen. LISTEN. fenix can NEVER shut up, like he already talks and talks in his daily life but when they get down to be dirty and all? LORD. he basically does most of the dirty talk, it’s impossible to beat him at that, vesper might be the one in charge and he will still be the one to say the most raunchy things back to her. calling himself vesper’s “fucktoy”, begging, saying how bad he wants her, begging to get fucked, so on so forth he can neeeever shut up. on one hand, vesper loves to hear that mouth run and on the other hand sometimes she just wants him to shut up and boy, she will make him shut up. she either grabs roughly his chin and orders him to shut it or directly slaps a hand over his mouth to just keep him quiet as she fucks him. MAYBE..JUST MAYBE fenix likes this treatment and that’s why he’s always talking and talking :)

#ask #arklay #nsft #oc: vesper #oc: fenix #they are soooo funny :)) NKJSNFK THANK YOU SO MUCH LEAH MWAH

[wolf359transcripts]

Wolf 359 Season 1 Episode 5 - “Cigarette Candy”

[intro music]

Welcome to Wolf 359.

Eiffel: This is the audio log of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel, recording from the comms room of the USS Hephaestus Station. It is day four hundred and ninety of our orbit around Wolf 359. How are you today, dear listeners? Is everything as it should be in your lives? It’s a beautiful day, here on the far side of our red dwarf star, and I [coughing] I feel great.

Eiffel: Y’know, this will come as a shock to most of you, but I’ve been known to, on rare occasion, be a tiny bit of a downer. I don’t make a point of it, but once in a blue moon, I’ve given in to the temptation to – just for a second – see things from the glass half-empty side. Just a little. But no more. That Doug Eiffel is dead. The new me, Doug Eiffel 2.0, is a changed man. A man who’s ready to look on the bright, sunshine-y side. Even though I’m still bored out of my skull, I’ve got this stupid skin rash that’s driving me nuts. But anyway, happy thoughts! For example, something wonderful happened two days ago.

[insistent knocking on the door]

Eiffel: And speaking of that...

[door opens and closes]

Eiffel: [joyfully] Hi, Dr. Hilbert!

Hilbert: Officer Eiffel, how are you tonight?

Eiffel: Fantastic, Doctor. Does your stopping by mean I get my [coughs] dose for the day?

Hilbert: Hm. Your cough has gotten worse since yesterday. Let me examine.

Eiffel: Please Doctor, I don’t think that’s really necessar- [muffled]

Hilbert: Your glands are swollen. Your uvula is very irritated.

Eiffel: It’s nothing, Doc. Now can I –

Hilbert: Could provide a very strong antibiotic that could –

Eiffel: That’s – That’s fine, Hilbert, but before you do that, could you gimme those –

Hilbert: It is important to address these health concerns right away, otherwise they could –

Eiffel: Dr. Hilbert. Do you have something for me?

Hilbert: Hm? Ah, yes, your nicotine lozenges, synthesised a new batch for you this afternoon. Here you are.

Eiffel: Oh, you are a great man, Dr. Hilbert. A great man.

Hilbert: Empirically. However, please conserve the batch this time. These are a sophisticated method of fighting symptoms of withdrawal. Not gas station breath mints.

Eiffel: Oh, you know me. Everything in moderation, and all that. Well Doc, great to see you. Thanks for stopping by! Let’s do this again tomorrow.

Hilbert: You’re welcome. Oh, and Eiffel – let me know if you experience any o-

[door slams shut]

[wrapper rustling]

Eiffel: I [coughs] I cannot even begin to tell you how much this is the stuff, dear listeners. The first batch tasted like cinnamon, but by my request, he was able to customise the second to taste like day-old ashtray. He’s literally made me cigarette candy! And it’s the best thing ever.

[Eiffel sighs in enjoyment]

Eiffel: But he’s right though. I gotta slow down with these things. I’ll only have two... no, three. Yeah no, definitely just four. Just four at a time. From the USS Hephaestus Station, this is Officer Eiffel, signing off. Goodnight!

[two static bursts]

Eiffel: [tiredly] Hello again dear listeners. This is the log of Officer Eiffel [coughs] recording on day four hundred [coughing fit] Oh, sorry about that. I’m not feeling so great today. My throat’s killing me. I’ve been kinda woozy all day. Y’know what the worst part is - I’m almost out of these lozenges.

[insistent knocking on the door]

[door opens and closes]

Eiffel: Ah Doctor, impeccable timing.

Hilbert: Officer Eiffel! You look terrible.

Eiffel: Ah, um, I’m fine. Don’t even worry about it. It’s just... a space cold, or something.

Hilbert: That’s not how things work on a spaceship. Come here.

Eiffel: Now, just –

Hilbert: Come. Here.

[pause]

Hilbert: You’re running a fever. Have you been experiencing any discomfort? Aside from your throat.

Eiffel: Um... uh, I’ve kind of had a headache all day. Oh, and my back’s been kinda weird and itchy for the last three days.

Hilbert: Let me take a look.

[pause]

Hilbert: Alright, any muscle pain?

Eiffel: Nah... not really.

Hilbert: Hm. This skin has reacted with such an advanced case of morbilliform, but not myalgia yet. Fascinating.

Eiffel: Wait, yet?

Hilbert: Hm?

Eiffel: You just said [coughs] what do you mean, yet?

Hilbert: Yet? Oh drat, English such inelegant cudgel of a language. Occasional errors inevitable. Next question, how many nicotine lozenges have you had in the past twenty-four hours?

Eiffel: What? Um... All the ones you gave me yesterday, I guess, but... what does that have to do with an... Nicotine lozenges.

Hilbert: All of them? Already? You must space them out. I shall have to get you a fresh batch.

Eiffel: No, stop. What is this? Is there – Is there something in these lozenges?

Hilbert: Of course there’s something in them. [voice slightly echoing] Nicotine polycrylics, about five milligrams of phenylalanine, sucrose for flavour. Very simple chemical formula.

Eiffel: No. No, what I – [coughs] – is there – is there something in them that’s making me sick?

Hilbert: [increasingly echoing] Officer Eiffel, you’re looking very weak. Maybe you should – Officer Eiffel?

Eiffel: Huh? Wha- Where?

Hilbert: You fainted in the comms room, Officer Eiffel. I’ve moved you back to your quarters.

Eiffel: Hilbert? What’s going on here? What’s in those lozenges? Are you – you’re not making me sick, right?

Hilbert: What possible reason could there be for doing that?

Eiffel: R-Right, exactly. Besides, you’re a doctor, you’re like... morally opposed to doing anything like that. Do no harm, and so on.

Hilbert: Oh, not really. My PhD is in molecular biology. Theoretical scientist first, practical medicine more of a... past-time. Always saw Hippocratic oath as leaving one with a very limited scope. True science mustn’t be so severely hindered.

Eiffel: So... that’s a no. I’m not making you sick, right?

Hilbert: You’re sweating, Officer Eiffel. You’re running a very high fever. Impaired judgement and delusional fixations very common. Pay them no heed.

Eiffel: Just answer the damn question! Also, follow-up question: why am I tied to the bed?

Hilbert: Bed rest is crucial for a man in your condition. Restraints crude, but necessary measure to ensure peaceful, restive state. Very conducive to... speedy recovery.

Eiffel: But – but –

Hilbert: No buts. Just bedrest.

Eiffel: But – But Minkowski’s going to get on my case if I don’t show up for my cleaning shift later today!

Hilbert: Already taken care of. I have spoken to the Commander, requested that she give me unrestrained authority over your movements and schedule, until such a time as you have a clean bill of health.

Eiffel: I bet she didn’t like that one bit.

Hilbert: On the contrary. She agreed it was a necessary measure. Very enthusiastic at the idea of your absence.

Eiffel: Oh, great. Um, how long do you think we need to keep these restraints?

Hilbert: For as long as it takes. Now rest! I have taken the liberty of disconnecting all components of the intercom system in this room, to get the maximum quiet! I am leaving your daily dose of lozenges secured right here at this table, within your arm’s reach. Make sure you take them regularly. It would be a pity to come so far, only to lose progress at this point. Don’t worry. You’re in extremely capable hands. Goodnight!

[door opens and closes]

Eiffel: Well, at least he did me the courtesy of leaving my portable recording device attached to my shirt. [sniffs] Ugh, I’m not sure if you can hear me, dear listeners. If you’re still with me, don’t worry. This sounds bad, but I know the comms system better than anyone, and I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to completely cut off a room. Case in point: hey Hera! Do me a favour and patch me through to Commander Minkowski, will ya? My hands are indisposed at the moment.

[silence]

Eiffel: Hera? Are you there? Hello?

[silence]

Eiffel: Um, okay. I may be in slightly more dire straits than I previously thought. Especially [coughs] because I’m seeing four – no, five – no, definitely four of everything right now. I’m – I’m going to shut this recording off for now. I feel I might need to make this battery last for a bit. I will... break radio silence again when I have one of my [coughs] patented escape plans figured out. I’ll talk to you soon, dear listeners. I hope.

[two static bursts]

Eiffel: [very tiredly] Hi again folks. I’m still here. Still under restraints. Still trapped. But still alive! No thanks to Dr. Hilbert though. I’ve no idea why he’s making me sick, but I know it’s him. I was fine before he started feeding me those things, and now... I [coughs] It’s been three days since I last talked to you. At least, I think it’s been three days. It’s always a little hard to be sure in this place. I’ve been... going in and out of consciousness a lot. I’ve only had contact with Hilbert for that entire time. He’s got me completely isolated, [coughs] just comes in a few times a day to give me food, some pills that are probably designed to turn my insides into radioactive goo. [coughing] And more of those damn lozenges. I’ve no idea what’s going on with the rest of the crew. I’ve no idea if they even know I’m still alive. Who knows what that maniac’s told them. I gotta let them know what’s going on, get them to save me before he gives me the full Nick Riviera. [laughter that turns into coughing] Jokes on ol’ Comrade Crazy though, I’ve only been pretending to take his pills. Stick ‘em under my tongue, then spit them into my jacket pocket the second he leaves the room. Sooner or later, my body will metabolise whatever crap’s already in my system. Then we’ll see how he likes it when someone’s messing around with his internal organs. [coughing] Even better than that though, I think I’ve figured out a way to get out of this. It took a bit of ingenuity, but –

[door opens and closes]

Hilbert: Officer Eiffel! Did I just hear you... talking to someone?

Eiffel: Who me? No. Of course not. I was just resting. Who would I even be talking to?

Hilbert: I definitely heard the sound of your voice.

Eiffel: I was just... recording my daily log. You know me, keeping up with regulations!

Hilbert: Indeed. How... dutiful of you. Ever diligent in your work, aren’t you.

Eiffel: Haha, that’s me! Me to a T. And speaking of that, don’t you think it’s time for me to get back to work? ‘Cause honestly, I don’t think I’m even sick anymore. I feel great!

Hilbert: ... Do you?

Eiffel: Never better! Not in my life! [coughing fit]

Hilbert: How many fingers am I holding up?

Eiffel: The Fifth Amendment says I don’t have to answer that question.

Hilbert: How many fingers? Simple question for a man in robust state of health, no?

Eiffel: ... Four?

Hilbert: Four?

Eiffel: ... Ish?

Hilbert: No, Eiffel. It was not four-ish fingers.

Eiffel: [explosively] What are you doing to me, you crazy science freak? What kind of sick experiment is this?

Hilbert: [exasperated groan] Not this again, for goodness’ sake Eiffel, you need to abandon this delusion. The only experiment here is one you are conducting on my patience. You’re running a fever of a hundred and five degrees, and fighting an aggressive infection in your pulmonary system. I’m only trying to help you get better. An enterprise that would be a lot easier if there was no need to grind your medicine into your food and administer it intravenously while you sleep!

Eiffel: Well, you know – What? You’ve – you’re smuggling drugs into me?

Hilbert: I’m good doctor. I can tell when someone has not been following prescribed procedure. All I did was take necessary measures for your health.

Eiffel: I – You – You have no right to do that! This is insane!

Hilbert: When patient does not trust doctor, doctor cannot trust patient. Now listen to me very carefully. I have every intention of seeing this through to the end. There are certain people who have to be dragged, kicking and screaming towards improvement. You are one of those people, Officer Eiffel. Sincerely hope that you will start listening to me, stop wasting your energy, and rest. You’re going to need it.

Eiffel: Hilbert.

[door opens]

Eiffel: Hilbert!

[door slams shut]

Eiffel: Hilbert!

Eiffel: Okay, okay. Don’t panic. Remember the plan. Just remember the plan. [coughing fit] Hilbert doesn’t know this, but I keep one of my tool bags by my cot. Took a lot of squirming, but I was able to reach it. Nothing in there that could cut through the restraints, but I was able to make some pretty clutch adjustments to this little recorder. I think I might be able to broadcast a short-range transmission. Talk to Minkowski. Alright. Here goes nothing.

[radio tuning noises]

[long beep]

Eiffel: Oh my god, yes! Yes yes yes! I’m good. Got it, I’m transmitting. Commander? Commander, do you copy? [coughing fit] Look, I don’t have much time. [sniffs] If you can hear me. Hilbert is holding me hostage in my room. He’s force-feeding me drugs and making me sick. I think he’s using me as pat of some sick experiment. I need to get out of here. I need your help. I need –

Hilbert: [over the radio] What you need, Eiffel, is to stop wasting your energies. I assure you; I have taken every precaution to provide you with distraction-free environment. Including a blockade of all short-wave transmissions. Now, go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow!

Eiffel: What? Why? W-What’s happening tomorrow? Hilbert? Hello? [pause] Oh god!

[two static bursts]

[static burst]

Eiffel: Well, dear listeners. This might be it. I’ve only got a little bit of battery left in this recorder, so uh, might as well use it. Y’know, I always thought I’d die in a science fair. Turns out I wasn’t that far off. Commander, I’ve always kind of suspected that you’d sneak into my room and NSA your way through my personal logs. If that’s the case, I hope you’re able to find this one. Be careful with Hilbert. Don’t take anything he gives you. [sniffs] And lock your doors at night. I don’t know what’s about to happen, but –

[door opens and closes]

Hilbert: Officer Eiffel. The time has come.

Eiffel: T-T-Time? Time for what?

Hilbert: Please, hold still.

Eiffel: Wait. Wait no. What’s in the bag? Hilbert, what are y – no no no no no. W-What are you doing with that knife? Wait. No, please. Let’s talk about this. I-I’m sure there’s all kinds of experiments you could run on me. You don’t have to do this. Please, let’s be reasonable. Just please, don’t cut – no, please don’t –

Eiffel: - Uh...

Hilbert:  Was simply removing your restraints, Officer Eiffel.

Eiffel: My - My restraints?

Hilbert: Yes. No longer necessary. Your fever broke last night. And all signs of infection are gone. You are, as they say, good to go.

Eiffel: I – I am?

Hilbert: Absolutely. Come on.

Eiffel: B-b-but... What was all that stuff about resting up and needing my strength for today?

Hilbert: You’re back on active rotation. You have a shift in two hours.

Eiffel: Oh. So... it wasn’t you.

Hilbert: Of course not.

Eiffel: Oh. Then... what was it that was making me sick?

Hilbert: Glad you finally asked. You were infected by a tropical flu.

Eiffel: A tropical flu?

Hilbert: There are a few samples of it in my laboratory. For experimental purposes. I hypothesised you were accidentally exposed during your recent stay there. May owe you an apology for that.

Eiffel: Oh. I guess that makes sense. Uh... thank you.

Hilbert: Thanks not necessary. Simply doing my job.

Eiffel: ... Sure. And... uh, I’m sorry for thinking you were running some kind of evil experiment on me.

Hilbert: Your imagination is incomparable, Officer Eiffel. But I must admit, a little disappointment. Just because I am scientist, does not mean I am mad ingenious supervillain, no?

Eiffel: Fair point. You really gotta work on your bedside manner though, Doc.

Hilbert: Bedside manner is like anaesthetic. It just gets in the way of what needs to be done.

Eiffel: Well, that about sums up the problem, I guess.

[rapid high-pitched beeping]

Eiffel: Oh hell, my recording device is still going. It’s almost out of battery. One sec, Hilbert.

Eiffel: Well, it looks like I was wrong about that situation, dear listeners. I feel like there’s a lesson to be had here, but it’s kind of lost in all the hallucinations right now. I’ll get back to it. From the Hephaestus Station, this is Officer Doug Eiffel, signing off! Say Doc, you wouldn’t happen to have more of those lozenges on you, would ya?

[outro music]

This has been Wolf 359, written and directed by Gabriel Urbina. The roles of Eiffel and Hilbert were played by Zach Valenti. Original music by Alan Rodi, and audio recording by Jared Paul. Wanna get Dr. Hilbert’s recipe for homemade cigarette candy? Visit us at wolf359.fm, or follow us on Twitter at @Wolf359Radio for more information on our show.

Transcription by @saltssaumure

#wolf 359 #wolf 359 transcript #podcast transcription #s1e5 #cigarette candy

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

278 of 2023

have you ever lied to impress a girl/guy?

No, it’s lame. You either like me for who I am or don’t like me at all.

have you ever made fun of someone to make yourself feel better?

No, it’s really low.

have you ever thought…”wow what the fuck is wrong with me?”

Yeah, way too many times.

have you ever screamed at the top of your lungs?

I don’t think so.

have you ever skipped more than 2 weeks of school?

No, there would be a phone call to my parents immediately.

have you ever sneaked out of your house, and didn’t get caught?

Never really tried.

have you ever lied to your parents?

I did, as a teenager.

have you ever wished you looked different than you do?

Yeah, when I was younger.

have you ever wanted to cry, and you didn’t know why?

No.

have you ever went up to the wrong person in a store thinking it was your mum/dad/guardian?

No, but I almost did that with my husband.

have you ever got so lost you had to ask for directions?

No, I’m good at these things.

have you ever gone a day without eating?

More than once.

have you ever witnessed a hate crime?

I’m not sure what could be classified as one.

have you ever visited a xxx site?

Yeah, boring.

have you ever been camping for a week?

No, I’m not a big fan of such things.

have you ever seen the movie “the holiday”?

Yeah, with one eye.

have you ever taken the credit off a survey you have taken?

No. If it’s not credited, then it means it wasn’t before I took it.

have you ever said “yeah you look great” when they really didn’t?

No, I’m a terrible liar.

have you ever been cheated on, and took the piece of shit back?

I’ve been cheated on, that was the end.

have you ever got so drunk you couldn’t remember that night?

No, not really.

have you ever looked what is actually in a cigarette?

I didn’t have to. There were campaigns everywhere when I was younger.

have you ever wished life was like the movies?

No, it would be boring.

have you ever walked and didn’t have a plan where you where going?

Many times. This is actually the only spontaneous thing I do.

have you ever had a teacher you though was “dangg finee!” ha.?

I don’t even understand this question.

have you ever had an experience where your bathing suit fell off in a pool?

I don’t go to pools and I don’t wear bathing suits.

have you ever said this “omg wtf what a whore!” ?

WTF is that question about?

have you ever swore at your parents?

Once or twice, as a teenager.

have you ever said “el oh el” in real life?

Lol no.

have you ever got sick in public?

No, never.

have you ever tried tofu?

Yeah, tastes like sponge. 🤮

have you ever wished you could turn back time?

Yeah, but that can’t be done, sadly.

have you ever wished you lived in a different decade?

Only out of curiosity.

have you ever laughed so hard you peed your pants?

Omg no.

have you ever heard people say something about you, in a different language?

Yeah. I speak more than one language, so that’s easy.

have you ever made your own survey?

No, I haven’t.

have you ever liked your best friend, but never told them?

Yeah, but it comes out eventually and that’s how my relationships started.

have you ever seen the tv show “what not to wear?”

Never heard of it.

have you ever stayed up all night watching infomercials?

No, it even sounds boring. I fall asleep to the TV, though.

have you ever thought you were in love… but were wrong?

Yeah, once.

have you ever kissed someone and never saw them again?

No. I don’t kiss strangers.

have you ever won at a staring contest?

Pff no, I don’t take part in such things.

#survey #q&a survey #random survey

[zafirosreverie]

i have an idea wednesday addams meeting reader who has a melanie martinez, maybe fran bow aesthetic, or this tiktok account's aesthetic https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSedsmvSe/ (because pastels), and reader's family also has that type of aesthetic, addams and reader's family meet? i don't know if you take asks or requests but i just had an idea and i wanted to share it with the class

this is what I call a magnificent contribution !! Thanks for sharing it with the class, you have an A +

Also, thank you so much for letting me write for another fandom!! I hope you like this little fic <3

Devil likes pastel color (Platonic Wednesday x Fem!Reader)

“Hallo!” you smiled as you approached the black haired girl next to you. 

In the month you have been there, a lot of classmates have approached you, wanting to be your friends and making you feel welcomed, because a new girl in the school was always a rare but awesome thing, and you were so nice and lovely, the kind of person everyone would want around. 

Everyone, except Wednesday Addams. The girl wasn’t rude to you, she just didn’t talk or even see in your direction, which you respected. You find her fascinating, but after the first attempt to befriend her, where she commented on your “utterly horrible and eye burning clothes”, you stopped trying. You laughed it off, of course, but never bothered her again.

Too bad the teacher didn’t care about Wednesday’s wishes at all and paired you with her for the next project. Well, you could always try to make this a pleasant experience for both of you. Which would be easier if the girl would even look at you.

“How are you?” you tried again

She remained quiet. You started to feel a little awkward, but your parents taught you to be patient with people.

“So...what do you think we should do for our project?” you asked and smiled again. 

“We can see how long it takes a wolf to eat a small human” she finally answered. 

You were making progress!! Good! And this was something you actually knew about, so it was amazing! Too bad you didn’t hear the sarcasm in her voice, nor caught the hint about you being the small human. You totally missed her threat.

“Well, it depends. Wolves usually eat 3.3 pounds of meat per day, 22 if they’re starving. So, I’m guessing between 6 and 43 days, depending how angry is it” you smiled. 

Wednesday frowned and finally looked at you. You had listened about how she could make anyone fear her with only looking at them, but to you, it was a victory. If you were honest, she was the most interesting person you’ve ever met. 

“How much do you weigh?” she asked and raised an eyebrow.

This time, you understood the meaning and couldn’t help but giggle. She was so cute. 

“Enough to feed a growth wolf, that’s for sure” you said “But I doubt Akela would allow any other wolf near me” 

The other girl blinked and her whole posture changed. She even turned so she was fully facing you this time. Second point to you!

“You have a wolf?” she asked

“Oh yes, he’s such a good boy, always protecting us from people who get too close. I think he still has a hand on the basement. Not sure whom it belonged to. But don’t worry, he’s sweet with the people we like” you finished with a huge smile. 

By the way Wednesday’s face changed from annoyed to interested, you knew you had her full attention now.

_________________

“Can I help you?”

You smiled when a lovely tall lady in a black dress greeted you. It had been a month since that project you and Wednesday did and you two became good friends since then. Everyone at school thought it was odd, because you two were total opposites, but for you it only made your friendship even better! Besides, your pastel dresses always looked better with Wednesday’s black ones, you made each other stand out.

Yet, this was the first time you came to her house. At first, she said she’d prefer to work at your place because that way her younger brother wouldn’t bother you (even if the idea of Akela attacking Pugsley was tempting for her), but then it was just that she enjoyed the way you and your family treated her, 

Don’t get it wrong, deep inside she loved her strange family, but being the older (and better) child meant her parents would usually expect too much from her, and you were a single child, which meant you and your parents would give her all your attention. Besides, she discovered your parents were amazing. 

They shared your same pastel aesthetic, but also your creepiness. You weren’t cruel, far from that, in fact, she’d often find your manners and sweet talk too cloying for her taste, but there were times when a darker side of you would come out, usually if you were in trouble or danger, and those, those were her favorite moments. When you’d get all psycho and murder. She found it kind of cute.

There was only so much her parents could teach her, but your parents were still a box of surprises and she loved learning new ways of using knives, chains, poison or raising spiders. But after a month of getting to know you all, she decided it was time for you to meet her family too. 

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Addams” your mother said, with a big smile “We apologize for any inconvenience, we’re just here to leave our little princess”

The woman frowned but before she could say anything, a man with a funny mustache and a cigarette approached her from behind.

“And who are these people with a horrendous sense of fashion, cara mia?” he asked.

Your parents laughed and this time your father presented you all in a better way.

“We’re the Y/L/Ns. Our little princess here was invited to your lovely house” your father said.

“Mother, father” a voice came behind the Addams “I invited her”

You smiled when Wednesday approached you all with a small smirk. She never smiled the way you or your parents did, but her smirk was still a nice touch. It fit her. 

“This is Y/N, and her parents, Y/F/N and Y/M/N” the girl said.

This time, the Addams seemed to understand and opened their eyes in realisation. 

“Oh, so this is the girl you kept telling us about, dear Wednesday” the woman said “Our apologies, we weren’t expecting you to have such...tastes in clothes” she said.

You and Wednesday looked at each other and smirked. You two knew what her parents would think about your family’s aesthetic, it was the same the black-haired girl thought at first, but you had the hope that, just like their daughter, the Addams could see past the pastel color and build a good relationship with them. 

You knew your parents would at least try.

___________________

“I think nuts could cover the amoniac” you casually said “Mom could help us bake some cookies”

Wednesday didn’t look up from her book, but you could see her rolling her eyes and smirking. 

You were right, your parents and the Addams quickly got along despite the initial suspicion from the goth family. And now it was common for you to spend days and nights at the Addams mansion or them visiting your place (although this was less common, since they didn’t like to go out too much). It was like having a second family! But despite getting to know them all now, Wednesday was still yours and your parents’ favorite.

That’s why you were a little mad about the current topic. 

It wasn’t rare for people to call Wednesday a freak or other names, but it never bothered her. She knew who she was and didn’t let anyone unimportant affect her. But you were another story. You hated people who judged others only because of their looks, it didn’t matter if they called you pretty or wanted to be your friends only because you seemed nice, if they dared to disrespect Wednesday, they were automatically on your black list. 

But even then, it was a thing to call other people nasty names (which was still wrong, but you could ignore it), and another too different was to try to punch her (thank god she was strong and stopped their hand before it could hit her face). 

You tried to fight them, but Wednesday just picked you up (again, she was really strong) and pulled you out of there. Needless to say, it surprised everyone at school. Nobody thought that sweet Y/N could be so scary or that creepy Wednesday would be the calmed one. 

If only they knew it was like that 60% of the time. 

“Ok, ok, what about a tea party at my house and I accidentally let Akela out?” you asked and smiled when the wolf under Wednesday’s feet looked at you, ready to follow orders.

“We would have to clean the blood from the carpets” she said “besides, that kind of junk food could give him indigestion” she finished, caresing Akela’s head. 

“Fiiiiiiine” you pouted “but I still think the cookie are a good idea”

The black-haired girl didn’t say anything but the smirk was all you needed. Both of you sat down in silence, enjoying the books on your hands, when something hit your window. It wasn’t a mystery who it could be, especially when other water balloons followed the first one. 

“Hey freak! Come show your face!” someone outside yelled.

You looked at Wednesday, but she only rolled her eyes and shrugged. Akela was alert and you could sense the change in the mood. He knew something was wrong, he could feel your anger. 

“Seems like they fell for the beauty and the beast explanation, uh?” she said and you frowned.

You had heard the rumors about her being some kind of witch who put a spell on you to control you, given that there was no other explanation as to why you would like to be friends with her. It was stupid and made you mad that they think you couldn’t make a choice for yourself or that they seemed to think about you as a fragil doll. Were they really stupid enough to believe it?

“Well, let’s show them who the beast really is” you smirked as you walked out, with Akela following you.

#x reader #reader insert #imagine #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #nicole fugere #the addams family #addams family imagine #addams family #request #not my gifs #gifs found in google