#And Moon cares too much about Pebbles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bellaveux · 6 months

Text

kiss of a vampire | w. maximoff

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: injured and alone, wanda finds herself out in the middle of the night, searching for the one person she can trust to help her. on that night, you find out what she truly is.

content warnings: 18+ minors dni. vampire!wanda, human!reader, victorian era, blood, very tiny mentions of homophobia, loss of virginity (?), smut! making out, biting, marking?, soft sex, fingering and oral (r receiving), praising

wc: 3.9k

note: surprise this is my singular contribution for kinktober hehe, happy halloween everyone!

Fall of 1863 in New York was more or less an uneventful time of the year for you. Your mother insists you read as many books as you can find in the manor’s library, and your father insists you go out and attend all those fancy balls and infernal tea parties—all in an effort to make you more presentable for any of your future suitors. It made sense for them to do so. Your mother was a respectable woman in the town, and she married your father, a man of riches, all thanks to that company he founded many years ago. You could honestly care less, not really having to do anything but read your books all day. Occasionally, in the evening when the sun has already set and you got too fed up with turning pages, you went out for a walk down that nice, pebbled trail through the woods, leading you down to that stone bridge over the river.

That’s where you met her. Wanda.

The moon was out. The sun was gone. She didn’t wear a fancy dress like you did the first time you saw her. She wore an unbuttoned vest over her white, well-made dress shirt, black pants, and riding boots to match. Her hair was red, and for a moment, you thought her eyes were the same color. It went away when you blinked, and suddenly, her eyes were green. You had never seen a woman like her before, much less someone similar in town. All the ladies and their voluminous skirts really only had boys, and gossip filled their daily conversations. It was tiring to be around them, but being with Wanda was relieving.

She told stories. Of adventures. Of distant lands you could barely imagine. She’d tell you about the sea, the moon, and the world beyond this little town you lived in. You found solace during your time with her, and you began to look forward to your walks through the woods every evening you could. She’s always there. Like she knows everything… She was your friend. And each time you met her, your heart beat faster than you’d like to admit, and your stomach fluttered whenever you thought about her. You always wondered, does she feel the same? You supposed you’d never find out, because who in their right mind would confess to having feelings for another woman?

Forbidden. Unthinkable. Criminal. That’s what they would say about you. So, you stayed quiet.

During the latest hours of the night, sometimes you’d see the glow of torches outside your window. You hear the noises first. A woman screaming. Pitchforks and shovels thrown up in the air, metal and iron clinking against each other. The sounds of arrows cracking through wood. Monsters, your father would say. They lurk out in the night, waiting and waiting until they come up to their prey and kill… You’ve heard the stories of those vampires, wolves, demons or whatever it is they are. You found it hard to believe. Even more so that so many people are afraid of what they probably haven’t even seen.

But then you see Wanda again. Not on your walk through the woods. Not on the bridge. A quiet knock is what you hear first. You look up from your book in surprise, then see her outside your window, clutching her shoulder in pain. She’s seated on the edge of your window on the other side of the glass, giving you a weak smile despite seeing how confused and worried you were. You rushed over and opened the window immediately, telling her to get in—of course, after you yelled—or whispered, really—at her for showing up at this ungodly hour.

“What in heaven’s name are you doing here?” You exclaimed as you pulled her into your room.

But the moment she winced in pain, you immediately pulled your hands back, afraid that you might have hurt her. You watch her move to lean against the wall underneath the window. She sighs in relief, still clutching her shoulder. Your gaze falls to her hand, right where you see the stains of red seeping through her dress shirt.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she says through gritted teeth.

“You’re bleeding…” You think out loud, carefully watching her as you hold your breath.

The faint glow of torches outside your window shows up in the corner of your eye—people bustling loudly in your street. You could see Wanda duck even further beneath your window, staring up at the ceiling as you began to put two and two together.

“No…” You shake your head and take a few steps back. “You’re the one they’re looking for, aren’t you?”

Wanda’s gaze softened as she turned to you. Her mouth opened for a moment to say something, but she sighed and laughed sheepishly to herself as she shook her head. Then, you see it in her smile.

She looked up at you again, with those kind and caring eyes you’ve seen on her from the moment you met her, “Please, don’t be afraid of me.”

“Your teeth…”

“I know,” she nodded. “But, I need your help. Please. I’m begging you.”

You didn’t know what to do. “Wanda.”

“They’ll come after me if you tell me to leave, (Y/n),” she reasoned, leaning up to show you she was telling the truth.

“Did you… Have you killed someone?” You could barely get it out.

“No!” She said, “I-I haven’t hurt anyone, I promise you! I-It’s my brother. I’ve been looking for him. He’s…”

“He’s what?”

Wanda sighs and turns away from you in shame. “He’s hungry. We… We haven’t eaten in weeks. He’s got a bigger appetite than I do… I-It’s harder to control him. I think he might’ve hurt someone tonight.”

You stare at her. Her eyes were red now. Her breathing was heavy. Her fangs darted out slightly past her parted lips. You take a second to process what she had just told you. And in truth, you should’ve been scared. You should have been throwing her out of the manor, calling for your father to deal with such a monster.

But to you, she was still… just Wanda. If she wanted to kill you, you’d imagine she’d already done it by now.

You left for a moment to head into your washroom in the corner your room where you tried to find all of the medical supplies you currently had. It wasn’t much—a wet rag, a few bandage wraps, and a kit for stitches. You returned with all the items in your arms, and Wanda looked up at you with a thankful smile.

You sat on the floor with her, your white nightgown bunching up against the wooden paneling. “I… I have bandages—”

Wanda shook her head, looking down to avoid your eyes. “Thank you… But, that won’t help.”

“What will?”

Her eyes bore into yours, but her mouth doesn’t move. She has that look on her face that tells you she's too embarrassed to say or ask for it. Her hands squeezed her shoulder in pain, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Tell me, Wanda.” You say firmly, your gaze unwavering, and for a second, you thought she was intimidated by you. She was, in truth, because of her feelings for you.

“Blood.”

You pause. Then, she repeats it again.

“Blood will… replenish my energy. I haven’t eaten, so I’m weak. On a good day, this wound would not even phase me.”

“My blood?”

Wanda nods. Your prolonged silence tells her that there is no way in hell you’d allow her. Her love for you has her hoping for the best outcome—that you’d have mercy on her and help her relieve the pain. But then again, you don’t owe her anything, and this was a lot to ask. The idea of asking felt impossible even though Wanda had already mentioned it, worried that you might refuse or be horrified by the notion.

“Okay.”

She blinks at you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. As long as you don’t turn me into a vampire or anything. I don’t mean it to offend you, but it would... complicate things.”

She nods once again, more eagerly this time. “You don’t have to worry about that. That’s, um… That’s a completely different process.”

“Okay,” you repeat, scooting closer to her, looking down at your dress and your hands as you begin to wonder if you should get a knife. “I-I’m not sure how to… do this.”

“Your neck.” She tells you. Of course.

You don’t ignore the way her red eyes darken and the way her ears perk up in excitement as you move your hair carefully to one side.

“Is it going to hurt?”

Wanda’s gaze softened at your words, “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

She watches you nod and holds her breath as she inches closer to you. Your sweet scent fills her nose with a much stronger fragrance than ever before. She has always loved the way you smelled. It soothed her in ways many other things couldn’t. It was divine, enveloping her senses each time she was near you, and she found herself utterly addicted. She had never been this close before tonight, her breath tickling the side of your neck. She could hear your heart beating fast as she moved closer.

You braced yourself, your heart pounding in anticipation for the expected pain of a vampire’s hungry bite. But it didn’t come. Instead, you felt Wanda’s soft, warm lips meet your skin, kissing it so gently in a way that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel her other hand, resting itself on the curve of your waist. Your breath caught in your throat, and your lips parted slightly as Wanda continued to press her mouth to your skin, littering your neck with the softest kisses she could possibly give you. You couldn’t help but notice the frailty and gentleness of her touches and her kisses, as if they were delicate and almost fragile.

Wanda was lost in the feeling of your skin. Every kiss left her craving for more, and she found herself losing control of the overwhelming desire she had been suppressing for so long.

You were so distracted by the soft kisses she left on you that you barely noticed the faint, almost imperceptible sensation of Wanda’s fangs piercing your skin. She was so gentle, and you expected much less when she had promised, but this… It felt too good. A moan slips past your lips as Wanda bites into you. Her first taste of your blood was nothing short of divine. So sweet. So warm. The most delicious thing she had ever put her mouth on. The flavor of you was unlike anything she had ever experienced, and it sent shivers of pleasure coursing through Wanda’s body. Every second that passed as she drank from you, Wanda began to feel her weakened body begin to mend itself. It was as if your blood had breathed life back into her. Wanda’s senses sharpened, and she felt a profound sense of rejuvenation. The pain in her shoulder began to fade away.

Wanda pulled away from your neck, running her tongue softly against the bite, before turning to look at you. The prettiest thing she ever laid her eyes on.

And Wanda couldn’t resist. She pressed her lips gently against yours and sighed against you. You gasp at the feeling as she places her hands over your waist, then down to your hips, pulling you closer against her. A soft moan falls from your mouth and into hers, and Wanda can’t help but groan. She swiped her tongue on your bottom lip, and naturally, you opened up for her, letting her in to explore the expanse of your mouth, the slight taste of iron on her tongue.

Your lips were parted slightly, and your eyelids felt heavy. But you started to feel weak and lightheaded. You found yourself leaning towards Wanda’s touch, unable to hold yourself up without tipping over, and the next thing you knew, she gently scooped you up and carried you to her bed with her mouth still pressed against yours. Kissing you became the next addicting thing for her. Wanda hovered over you as she laid you down on your back.

She pulled away from the kiss and smiled softly, “You’re so beautiful.”

Her lips traveled down to your neck once more, kissing your skin softly as she felt your arms wrap around her neck. This time, you feel it when she bites you again, unable to stop the moan that escapes your mouth. Wanda smiled as she continued to drink softly from you, her hand reaching up behind your dress to pull at the string that was holding your nightgown together as you arch your back and pressed your front against her. Your dress comes loose with a simple tug, and your cheeks flush, a deep shade of red donning your face as you feel Wanda’s hand cupping and groping your breast over the fabric.

After she pulls away, Wanda kisses your skin again, her lips traveling further south and her face coming up in between your plush breasts. She moans against you, your scent filling her nose in the most addicting way. She could smell you. How aroused you were. How wet you were. And tonight, despite all that you’ve given her, she was feeling a little greedy.

“I want you. I want to make you feel good,” she tells you, her voice all breathy against your skin. “I want to touch you.”

“Please,” you begged her, running your hands in her hair as she began to pull the dress off of you, agonizingly slowly.

When your body comes into full view, Wanda can’t help but stare. She mutters a curse under her breath before letting her fingertips run along your stomach, your nipples, your hips, and your thighs, and Wanda feels like she’s in heaven.

“Stop staring,” you say, pouting shyly as the vampire continues to ogle you.

She only smiles, fangs darting past her lips, “I can’t, angel. You look so pretty like this.”

Wanda leans down to litter your skin with wet kisses and small bruises. She eventually makes her way down to your legs, holding your plush thighs in her hands, and she kisses you, running her tongue over each part that she kisses. You allowed her to spread your knees apart, exposing your glistening sex to her shyly as she leans over, her kisses traveling closer and closer to your wet core.

“Spread your legs wider,” she said, unable to take her eyes off of you.

You do as she says, your hands now gripping your bedsheets slightly. Her fingers make their way in between your folds, softly touching your opening. She lets them move up and down, collecting your slick and spreading it all over, down in between and up to your clit, where she presses slightly harder against your bundle of nerves. She sees you when you bite your lip to stop a moan from falling past your lips. Wanda smiled at the sight. Her love bites are littered all over your skin; the bite on your neck looked more delicious than ever, and your pretty face looked up at her like she was the only one who could ever make you feel like this. Hell, it drives her crazy.

With a new sense of determination, Wanda finally slips her cold finger into you, your tight and warm walls wrapping around her digit. She sighs and leans forward to lay her head against your tummy, watching closely as she pushes her finger in, then pulling out with a squelch.

“You’re so wet for me,” she thinks aloud.

She groans, listening to the delicious sounds of your softest whimpers as she fingers you. Another finger slips inside of you, pulling them in and out of your pussy at a faster pace. Your breathing got heavy. You could feel your stomach getting tighter, but before you could come undone, Wanda pressed her thumb to your clit, working you up to your orgasm. Her fingers are long, and she can’t help but add another one into your tight, dripping sex. Her other hand holds your quivering thigh down as you tremble against her.

“W-Wanda, I’m—”

Your mouth falls open at the feeling of being filled up with her fingers. She’s much faster now, curling her fingers into your walls sloppily as she continues to press your clit, pushing you closer and closer to your high. And then, it comes. Wanda travels up and kisses you, swallowing your moans as you fall apart on her fingers, cumming all over her hand. Your back arched and your legs jerked closed as she pushed your legs back open.

Wanda carefully pulls her fingers out of you, but she doesn’t stop rubbing your clit, making you shiver against her. She rubs it in tight circles as her kisses travel back down to your neck, where she takes another greedy bite into your skin, welcoming the taste of your divine blood into her mouth once again. She groans when you pull her hair slightly, getting drunk off of your essence and the way your hands feel on her head.

When she pulls away, she kisses you again. And when she pulls away for a third time, she makes her way down your body, traveling through the valley of your breasts, over your stomach, and then her destination—back in between your legs. Her nose nuzzles against your clit, your scent filling her senses all over again.

“W-Wait, Wanda this is…”

You had never done this before. And now that Wanda was face to face with your glistening pussy, you got shy. Wanda only looks up at you and smiles, pressing gentle kisses along your inner thigh.

“I want you,” she reminds you, pulling you closer to her face. “I want to be the first one that makes you feel good. I want it to be me. Only me. Inside of you. I want to see how pretty you’ll look when I have my mouth on you.”

She says it so absentmindedly, her eyes not leaving the sight of your pussy as she spreads your lips apart with her thumbs. You couldn’t help but blush at her words, your face getting hotter each time you felt her breath on your pussy. You felt like time was ticking so slowly, with Wanda staring at you for what felt like hours. You grew tense with anticipation, waiting and waiting for her to do something. And when she finally does, your jaw drops, and a silent moan falls from your mouth. Wanda memorizes every little noise you make, the way you arch your back, or the twitch of your thigh.

She was in heaven. Your inner thighs glistened with arousal as she held you down against your bed, noting the way your hands made their way back to her red hair. Your body was a hot, trembling mess right underneath her as she devoured you, licking every space she could reach with her tongue.

When Wanda looks up and sees your mouth wide open in silent screams, arching your back off of the mattress, your soft hand tugging at her locks in a pitiful attempt to slow her down, she knows you’re close. She grew desperate. She keeps licking you, eager to get you closer and closer to your climax. You’re chanting her name as quietly as you can, eyes closed shut as the pleasure keeps building and building inside of you.

“Wanda, I-I’m about to—”

You whimpered, your legs closing around Wanda’s head. She hummed into your pussy and continued to eat you out right as you came into her mouth. She ran her tongue through your folds and over your clit softly, easing you through your orgasm with a satisfied moan. Wanda practically forced herself away from your sex, wishing for nothing but more time with you. She pulled back and sat on her legs to stare at the beauty right in front of her. She rubbed your soft thighs in soothing circles with her hands as she smiled down at you. You trembled slightly, still shaking from the orgasm she had given you.

You reached out to her, your weak arms lifting from the bed, wanting to be in her embrace again. She obliged happily, leaning down to hover over you once again. Wanda kissed you up your neck, to your jaw, and, lastly, to your lips, the taste of you still lingering on her tongue. She moaned against you and smiled into the kiss when she felt your hands slide from her neck to cup her face.

Then, you remembered.

You pushed her away softly, just so you could look at the blood stain on her shirt, where an arrow had struck her earlier tonight.

“I’m okay, now,” you heard her say.

Running a slow and gentle hand over her shoulder, you took a peek, pulling the fabric down a little bit to see her wound, but nothing was there.

“It’s gone,” you said in awe.

Wanda smiled softly at you as you continued to inspect her shoulder. You looked so beautiful. So unafraid of her. And it made her the happiest woman on Earth. She sighs and leans down to pepper a few kisses on your cheek, still surprised by her healing abilities. But you got distracted again, feeling her soft lips against your skin. The light of a candle on your night table danced across the room as she kissed you. Wanda was so gentle. Like she promised.

After a moment, Wanda turned to look out your bedroom window, where she had come in. Her senses immediately took notice of how quiet it was and how dark it was outside. The night embraced the world outside of your bedroom, blackness stretching as far as her eye could see. It was different from the warmth she felt in this sim room—a room with you, her love. It reminded her of the world and now, the secrets you both carried together.

Your voice pulled her out of your thoughts. “You have to go, don’t you?”

Wanda smiled, knowing you already knew the answer to your own question. “Your mother would throw a fit if they found me here.”

You shake your head and roll your eyes at the thought, smiling sadly as you begin to play with the fabric of her shirt.

“I’ll come see you again, angel. I promise you.”

“Tomorrow?” You ask, looking up at her with hopeful eyes.

Wanda turned her attention back to you, and her heart skipped a beat. You were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Unable to stop herself, she leaned down and kissed you once more.

“Tomorrow,” she said firmly.

With one final, lingering kiss on your lips, Wanda whispered three little words. Then, with a graceful and silent movement, she made her way over to the window through which she had entered. Wanda disappeared into the night, leaving the room she made love to you in. You lay in bed, contentment washing over you as a soft smile played on your lips. She was different from the stories you’d hear about vampires. People called them monsters, and even though you only knew Wanda, she was miles and miles away from being one.

You missed her already.

But just as she promised, you saw her again the next day. This time, with more kisses and closer encounters.

— navigation!

#bellaveux writes!#happy halloweeeeeeen #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel x reader #vampire!wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen x reader #mcu x reader #avengers x reader #elizabeth olsen #fanfic #vampire #halloween #kinktober

587 notes · View notes

amerricanartwork · 7 days

Text

RW Headcanon: "Pebbsie Privilege"

Here’s a headcanon I’ve had in the works for a while, and now I finally want to share it! It's shorter than some of my others, but I hope you'll still find it amusing!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

So firstly (and I plan to expand on this more later) I headcanon Five Pebbles is someone who cares a lot about his appearance, though not in a prissy or snooty sense and more in a “likes being the smartest and most sophisticated one in the room” sense. That means, more so than the average person, he generally doesn’t like being teased, ignored, belittled, condescended to, or otherwise disrespected, and very understandably so if you ask me! But it also means there exists a very special ability when it comes to interacting with Five Pebbles that almost no characters have.

It’s no more than the ability of someone to refer to Five Pebbles as “Pebbsie” while he’s in earshot without getting death-glares from him. Looks to the Moon, who first started using it, affectionately calls this ability “Pebbsie privilege”, and she ends up being one of the only characters who has it (besides Innocence, who in my portrayals eventually gets it too). Though even so, Pebbles originally got rather flustered when she called him that alone, much less in front of others, considering it's definitely a very cutesy nickname. In fact, poor Pebbles really didn’t like being called “Pebbsie” because one of his least favorite ways of being treated is like a child (which includes being thought of as "cute" in any way). This unfortunately happens to him a lot though since he’s part of the newest iterator generation and tends to have lots of uncommon ideas rarely taken seriously by the older models, and this treatment only amplified as he grew more stubborn and arrogant.

To elaborate on the origin, Moon developed the nickname pretty much on an impulse — quite a rare thing for her to act on actually — of wanting to hearken more to her role as “Big Sis Moon” and show love to her little brother. Soon after she started using it though Pebbles would pull her into private chats and urge her to drop it to save his dignity. Not wanting to hurt her brother in any way, it didn’t take long before she apologized and stopped using it, and basically got her "Pebbsie privilege" revoked. In the current time she secretly still likes calling him that in her mind, but knowing how much he dislikes it she always feels pretty guilty afterwards, despite them being no more than thoughts at that point. While not a major issue in-and-of itself, this situation was actually a small step in worsening a long-time fear Moon has, though that’s a headcanon for another day…

On a (marginally) more positive note however, after Moon’s collapse and the worsening of Five Pebbles’s rot, along with him generally reminiscing about the things he used to have (as part of yet more character headcanons I’ll elaborate on some other time), he actually began to grow fond of the nickname more and more. Yet he also couldn’t also shake the growing heartache the memories brang, as he came to see it as a reminder of his sister’s never-ending love for him and the better times he now regretted taking for granted and trying so hard to escape. While I headcanon he handles it differently in Downpour’s canon, in the worm-off-the-string AU story I’ve got so far, Moon slowly regaining her “Pebbsie privilege” and Pebbles appreciating it and no longer taking it so seriously (though he still forbids its usage in public) could serve as a small, yet sweet indicator of character growth for both of them.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Aaaand another RW headcanon done! I wanna mention, though, now that I’ve got more of an idea for the aforementioned AU I really want to start posting more of my headcanons for the Local Group, since the character interactions, histories, and ultimate character growth is perhaps one of the most important elements of that story so far. I’ve spent at least a couple weeks creating almost 40 pages worth of character notes, and while this particular one started out as just a little side-headcanon, I ended up tying it into all of that. Hopefully I can start sharing the main parts of these headcanons soon!

249 notes · View notes

crazycookies73307 · 2 months

Text

It's amazing just how much you're willing to do for someone when you like them.

In the romantic sense, I mean.

When you platonically like someone you'd do anything for them, as long as you're able to handle it.

When you romantically like someone, though? That's a whole different level we're talking about.

When you romantically like someone, you'd do anything for them, even if it's sometimes beyond your capabilities.

You might be drowning in your own sorrows, but their suffering always feels like a greater loss. So much so that you feel as though you'd bear their pains on top of your own, just so that they wouldn't have to.

You might find yourself terribly busy, but you always manage to make time for them. You might not know anything related to their interests, so despite being behind on just about everything else, you still somehow manage to learn about them.

Granted, all this is applicable to platonic love as well, but somehow, you felt that romantic love had a certain magical feel to it.

Maybe it was the influence of too many Disney movies, but who cares.

But in the same way, it was also amazing just how much you're not willing to do for someone who you don't like.

Again, in the romantic sense.

See, this is what you meant about the difference between platonic and romantic love. As far as life has worked out for you, when you romantically like someone, you'd find a way to give them the moon and when you just platonically like someone, you'd barely be willing to give them a polished pebble.

Or maybe, you just have shitty friends.

Correction, shitty friend.

You'd do anything for him, even it meant your own doom, but God forbid if the same applied to you.

Their messages were read as soon as they were delivered. Yours was left on delivered for a while.

They ask him for a favour, he'd do it. Granted, it would take a bit of convincing. But for you? Yeah, dream on.

Situations arose where you'd be partnered together. And more than half the time, you know he'd rather be paired with someone else. A certain someone else.

Unless your help was necessary, that is.

Somehow, you had the solutions for everyone's problems.

The advisor, the helper, the mother, the tutor, the therapist, the mentor.

It also sucked that you were an enigma for the rest. You somehow managed to stay on the top of your game despite taking on more and more.

But few knew of your disastrous tendency to procrastinate. Pair it with your perfectionistic attitude and it was a recipe for a disaster, the result being an extremely stressed, sleep deprived and caffeine high you.

You still pushed through, though.

Out of sheer spite and willpower, but still.

The fact was, that you were a busy person. And it's a universal truth that busy people are always stressed.

When you were a busy person with a stupid crush on a guy you know you've got zero chance with, it made your stress ten times worse.

It was as though the universe was against you.

The perfect guy, one who actually wasn't your type, but ended up redefining your idea of your ideal type to fit himself in.

The one guy who you knew, was not necessarily a bad match for you, personality wise anyways. Lord knows if there's anything else lurking beneath.

The one guy who managed to make your tough attitude melt into absolute nothing.

The one guy who managed to make you, who dreamt of lazy rainy evenings and warm tea , end up dreaming about the mushy stuff. Stuff you wouldn't normally dream about, not with a clear cut idea anyway, like your dates, hugs, talks, and even your marriage.

Especially your marriage.

The one guy who managed to break down a lot of your walls, the one guy you felt safe with, the one guy you knew you could trust openly, and you couldn't have him.

For reasons out of your control, you just weren't what he was looking for.

You were good enough to help him.

You were good enough to listen to his troubles.

You were good enough to be used as an excuse for when crap went sideways, because after all, you were trusted.

You were kind, after all. His words, not yours.

It's kind of embarassing, just how much you were willing to do for his sake, and just how little you expected him to do for you.

What you wanted were your thoughts, emotions and actions returned. What you received, was an entirely different matter.

He cared about her,worried about her, and for better or for worse, cried for her. To the extent that you sometimes wished you could stab yourself rather than to witness the scenes unfold.

If he was so capable of such emotions, so capable of freely expressing them, then why was it that he never even gave an ounce of it your way?

Were you worthy of the bare minimum effort? The bare minimum care?

Were you worth so little?

Was that it?

Was that why you were always, always one of the lowest of his priorities?

Maybe it was a you problem, maybe it had nothing to do with him.

But was it really?

Was it really your fault that he chose her over you, every single time?

Was it really your fault, when he made the choice to prioritise her needs over his own, and then come crying to you?

Was it really your fault, when he decided to play a dangerous game of chase with her, willingly allowing you to be the first hand witness to their game?

Was it really your fault, when despite you being there to help him out of his messes, especially regarding hers, he still went running to her for comfort?

They created the messes that you had to clean up.

They were the ones who made bad life choices and come running to you for advice.

They were the ones who were involved in the god forsaken game of cat and mouse, somehow dragging you into the middle of the mess.

They were the ones who forced you into a corner sometimes, with you being needed to cover for them, in the face of a lot of people.

They were the ones who had to be careful in their so-called games, but you were the one forced to enforce the said caution.

In their point of view, you were the villain in their story.

Always poking around, ruining a part of their fun.

But they also know that they were the ones who forced you into the role. That someone was needed to possess the common sense that they lacked. Of course, whether they listened to the said common sense was another matter entirely.

Granted, sometimes you enjoyed putting them in their places a bit too much.

Despite his devil may care attitude when it came to anyone other than her, you knew that he did care for you. You knew that he did consider you to be a friend. After all, you did spend a lot of time together for you to just be named an acquaintance.

It was just that his efforts towards you paled in comparison to those directed towards her.

It also didn't help that he trusted you enough that he knew you'd not betray him, or his feelings that even he himself was kind of oblivious about. It was obvious to you both that he had certain questionable feelings, definitely not of the platonic type, towards her but you knew him well enough to know he'd rather ignore them for the sake of his sanity. At the cost of your own, you admit.

You were the one he cried to about things related to her, you were the one who knew that he was actually completely whipped for her. Not that he was good at hiding it, just about everyone could see it. It was just that you were the only one who was aware of the extent of it.

Sometimes you were sick of playing the adult. Sometimes you wanted to shake him out of this stupid mess he called his feelings. Sometimes you wanted to scream at him, of how you wanted out.

Out of everything that you never wanted to get yourself into.

Sometimes, you wanted him to just get over himself and confess, after all, atleast then you didn't have to see him pine around for someone else.

The rest of the time you were content about being there for him, regardless of the toll it took on your emotions.

Something is better than nothing, right?

And while you were torturing yourself with their roundabout pining, you'd rather be the first to find out if they ever decided to commit. At least you could get the time to prepare your poor, poor heart for when you'd have to break the reality to it.

The same heart, that despite the torturous wait, still hoped that he'd look your way. That he'd find that what he was looking for all this while, was actually right next to him.

That your efforts would be rewarded.

They had to be, right?

No deity was cruel enough to let all those efforts, those feelings, those thoughts, those tears, be for nothing, right?

Your mind said otherwise, but your foolish heart stubbornly kept on believing.

You knew, heartbreak was the only outcome of this stupid situation that you'd gotten yourself into.

You just hoped that when the time came, they would be kind enough to break it cleanly into two, rather than shatter it completely into tiny pieces.

At least it would be easier to put it back together.

Hopefully, anyways.

160 notes · View notes

mikavlcs · 1 year

Text

Rebels and Renegades

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: Becoming best friends with a sentient hand brings many much-needed changes to your life, the biggest being the very girl he arrived at Nevermore with.

Warnings: this is so stupid, reader is incredibly unserious, many attempts at comedy, TERRIBLE pacing, bad writing, cursing, this doesn’t correlate properly with the timeline of the show but idc

Word count: 6.6k (sorry, this got very out of hand...get it?)

Notes: this is trash but it’s fun so who cares. this is entirely for @clexa-is-forever aka thing’s biggest fan. despite my writer’s block, i still had fun writing this. hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

If someone told you at the beginning of the school year that your best friend would be a sentient disembodied limb, you would’ve laughed in their face.

Not because you thought it would be too ridiculous or nonsensical, but because in your mind, it was far too interesting for what Nevermore Academy had to offer.

See, you were initially excited to transfer to Nevermore. To get away from the shallow depths of normie public school and be around people like you. But alas, it was too good to be true—or, maybe, you had gotten your hopes up too high.

Because it turned out that fantastical mythical creatures like vampires, werewolves, and sirens actually weren’t too dissimilar from their normie counterparts. They didn’t care about excitement or adventure or fun, they cared about partying and drinking and dating.

This duality created an atmosphere of contradictions. There were people with literal snakes for hair but also those stupid cliques of popular kids that liked to pick on people for no reason. Werewolves transformed into energetic beasts and prowled the woods together every full moon, but students’ biggest concerns were whom they were gonna ask to the school dance.

It was all strange and supernatural yet shockingly normal. And extraordinarily boring.

The disappointment you felt upon this discovery was immeasurable. It appeared that no matter how far you ran, you could never escape the clutches of adolescent desires and drama.

But there was nowhere else for you to go. This was it, your parents told you that definitively. So you resigned yourself to your fate and settled into life at Nevermore.

Months passed at a snail’s pace. Around the middle of the semester, a new student transferred in. Because nothing of substance happens, she was the talk of the town for a solid two weeks before her scheduled arrival, but you didn’t care.

You would admit that after finally seeing her, your interest was piqued. She certainly fit the murderer vibe. With her pallid complexation and dark eyes, she looked straight out of a black & white horror film, even complete with a black uniform instead of the standard purple (which you were so jealous of).

Temptation pulled at your chest whenever you saw her, but you decided to leave her alone. This school had disappointed you enough, you weren’t sure how you’d be able to handle even more. The decision to keep your distance was made and instead, you let your imagination run wild without the probable barriers of reality to inhibit it.

Little did you know that only one day after the new girl transferred in, she inadvertently changed the course of your life at Nevermore forever.

Advanced Gorgon Sciences, your last class of the day, had just ended and you were wandering campus wondering what you were going to do with your free time. You were contemplating going into Jericho when something smacked your cheek.

Pausing, you glanced down and found the offending object to be a small pebble. You followed its rough trajectory up to a ledge on your left and saw something scurrying across it. Against, your nonexistent better judgment, you moved closer and…

You blinked once, then twice, narrowed your eyes.

It was a hand—literally just a hand, cut off at the wrist but still scuttling and scurrying around with no problem.

So, you were definitely losing your mind. Honestly, it was about damn time.

Having nothing better to do, you decided to lean into the madness and approach the hand. At the sound of your footsteps, it turned and…looked at you? You weren’t sure, but it acknowledged your presence with a friendly wave.

You waved back, a laugh bubbling up in your throat as you hoisted yourself up to sit on the ledge.

Once you were up, you saw that the hand was fiddling with a makeshift slingshot, struggling to simultaneously keep it upright while loading and aiming it. His plight was fairly obvious and considering his circumstance, you couldn’t help but feel for him.

Abandoning the slingshot, the hand crawled over to you and started tapping insistently. It took much more brain power than it ought to for you to realize that he was trying to speak to you.

“Sorry, I don’t understand…that,” you apologized with a grimace. But an idea came to mind a moment later. “Can you write?”

The hand gave you a thumbs up. You dug around your backpack and pulled out a notebook along with a pen, flipping it open to an empty page and slid it over, setting the pen down on top. He picked up the pen and got to work, pushing the notebook back toward you a minute later.

Curious, you looked at the messy scrawl below.

Sorry, was aiming for the guy behind you.

You nodded understandingly. “It’s fine. Could I ask why you’re launching pebbles at students?”

You waited once more as he scribbled his answer and peered down when he pushed the paper over.

For fun.

Again, you nodded. You could respect that.

“Well, do you mind if I join you?” you asked, nodding toward the slingshot. “I’d imagine it would be a lot easier to aim with an extra pair of hands. And the accompanying body,” you added awkwardly at the end, hoping it wouldn’t offend the little guy.

Thankfully it didn’t. He gave you an excited thumbs up, scuttling back over to the slingshot while you scooted over. While he loaded another pebble into the pouch, you scanned the area below for your next victim.

Your eye snagged on a vampire for no real reason other than the fact that he just kinda looked like an asshole.

You pointed to him below. “How about him?”

Thing gave you another thumbs up. Nodding, you held the slingshot in place while Thing drew the pebble back and let it fly.

The shriek that came from your victim almost made you blow your cover. You grabbed Thing and hurriedly crawled back to where you were both out of sight, barely containing your giggles. Once the coast was clear, you cracked, pitching forward with your laughter as Thing drummed his fingers against your arm in what you assumed was amusement.

“That was amazing!” You looked down at him, smirked. “Wanna do another one?”

He tapped your hand enthusiastically, making your smile widen.

Thus was the beginning of an amazing friendship. Well, amazing for you and Thing—not for the rest of Nevermore.

The two of you were a match made in hell. Together you brainstormed a plethora of good pranks to pull on unsuspecting students and teachers.

Putting spiders (fake or otherwise) in students’ lockers. Setting glitter traps on top of classroom doors so whichever unlucky soul walks through first gets showered in glitter. Slipping mentos into people’s sodas. Setting trip wires to watch people faceplant around campus and many more.

It was glorious. Your own personal reign of terror, even.

Principal Weems had her suspicions, but no matter how many times she tried to catch you in the act, you slipped through her fingers. And without proof, her hands were tied. So you and your companion were free to keep enjoying your schemes so long as you were discreet.

For the first time since you enrolled, days passed by in what felt like minutes, the personification of the saying time flies when you’re having fun.

Through it all, you often wondered where the little guy was when he wasn’t with you. You hoped that he wasn’t causing too much mischief without you. He was your partner in crime, after all.

Two weeks in, you decided to ask him at breakfast.

The two of you were at your usual table in the corner of the cafeteria. You were ranting about an upcoming Lycanthrope History test while Thing was launching the grapes you gave him to play with at nearby tables. After your rant, you finally gave in to your curiosity.

“So, what exactly are you doing at Nevermore? I know this place houses some strange students but, something tells me you’re not here to learn.”

He flicked a grape with precise aim, nailing a gorgon right on the forehead before giving you a series of taps. Your face scrunched in confusion.

“Babysitting? Babysitting who?”

Nothing could have prepared you for his answer.

“Wednesday Addams?!”

Your voice came out much louder than intended, turning a few heads around the cafeteria and making Thing jump. You didn’t care, plowing forward in your questioning.

“You’re ‘babysitting’ the school’s homicidal maniac?”

His stance straightened, his nonverbal tone somehow indignant as he corrected you.

You gave him a pointed look. “Attempted homicide isn’t much better, buddy.”

He seemed to contemplate flicking another grape, but seeing Miss Thornhill looking around, he chose not to. Instead, he drummed his fingers inquisitively at you, teasingly waggling his fingers at the end. You gave him another sharp look, insulted by his implication.

“Scared? What, no! This is amazing news,” you exclaimed. Then, an idea arose. “Hey, do you think she’d let us borrow any of her stuff for pranks?”

Thing mournfully shook his wrist. You let out a deep sigh, slumping over again. “Yeah, I guess I should’ve expected that answer.”

Wednesday didn’t really come up in conversation after that. You asked a few more times about her willingness to let you borrow her things, but after receiving the same answer, you gave up. Your paths had yet to cross, and you assumed that it would stay that way. But the universe seemed to have other plans.

The first time you formally met her was about a month after she transferred.

It was an appropriately cloudy day and you and Thing had just successfully completed a heist. You were in the Weathervane, both gushing over the fact that you had managed to steal fifteen scented lotions from Jericho’s local Bed, Bath & Body Works when a sharp voice interrupted you.

“So this is who you’ve been running off with these past few weeks.”

Both you and Thing flinched, looking up to see the Wednesday Addams staring down at you and your partner.

Offering a wave, you said, “Hey, Wednesday. Want a scented lotion?”

She ignored you completely. Her eyes barely scanned your figure before she was turning her full attention to Thing, her arms crossing over her chest in vindication.

“I knew you had to have an accomplice. You’re nowhere near nimble enough to properly set a trip wire by yourself.”

Thing slumped, obviously disheartened by the statement, but before you could defend his honor, your mind caught on something else.

“Wait…” You looked over at Thing, offended. “Have you been taking full credit for our pranks this entire time?”

Sheepish, Thing bowed, giving your hand an apologetic pat. You moved it away, crossing your own arms over your chest.

“Since this is your first offense, I’ll forgive you. But do it again and I’m keeping all of the profits from our future heists, got it?”

Thing jumped in alarm, tapping urgently. You smiled. “Good.”

Wednesday looked between you both, clearly unimpressed. You decided to take your shot again.

“You know, the lotion offer still stands.” You rifled through the lotions, taking note of their scents, and glanced back up with an apologetic look. “Though, we don’t have one that smells like stage 4 human decomposition, sorry.”

Again, she just stared blankly. You swore you saw her eye twitch but still, she said nothing and glared at Thing.

“Be back at the dorm by 7.”

With that, she turned and marched out of the café, leaving everyone in her path to fearfully stumble out of her way. Both of you watched, rapt, as she slammed the café door open and nearly nailed an approaching customer in the face.

Once she was out of sight, you turned to Thing. “Y’know, I think that went well, buddy.”

Thing said nothing.

You thought that would be the end of it, and honestly, you would’ve been fine if it had been. You made a good first impression and she now knew you existed. A double win!

But again, it seemed that someone had other plans—though this time it wasn’t the universe, but Thing.

Now that you and Wednesday had been semi-acquainted, Thing began inviting you to their dorm for hangouts frequently (because it was “his dorm too” …you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise). This set a few things in motion.

First, you met Wednesday’s roommate, Enid.

Enid was nice. A little hyper, like she was on a permanent sugar rush, but sweet, nonetheless. She gave you free manicures and skincare advice, and even let you borrow some things for pranks, so you hadn’t a single bad thing to say about her.

Second, you found out that you were very bad at scaling buildings.

Due to both curfew and Wednesday’s usual disapproval of your presence, Thing insisted on smuggling you in. By throwing a rope down to your balcony for you to climb. And…let’s just say that it’s a miracle you even survived the first time.

And finally, most importantly, you and Wednesday began to grow closer.

Only by about a centimeter, but progress was progress. And through sheer willpower and repeated exposure, you wormed your way into the tolerance stage, which is farther than most people who came into contact with Wednesday got, so you were proud.

She wasn’t warmer per se, but the sight of you in her dorm was no longer met with a throwing knife, just a death glare and some tentative (mostly one-sided) conversation if she was in a good mood. It was a big win.

Now that she wasn’t orchestrating any attempts on your life, you grew…not protective, but defensive of her, and Enid for that matter. Enid was your friend and Wednesday was…Wednesday. Willingly or not, they were part of your small circle.

So when a werewolf insulted Wednesday right to her face the day before the Poe Cup, well who could blame you for getting a little revenge?

You overheard him call Wednesday a frigid bitch, and he was right, but he didn’t have to say it like it was a bad thing. In retaliation, you and Thing gave him a special surprise involving shampoo and some of Enid’s hair dye that you were very excited to see the next day.

And it didn’t disappoint. Seeing the flash of bright pink amongst the Furs, and a matching flush of embarrassment that was nearly the same color was the highlight of your day.

At least it was until the Black Cats emerged from their tents.

Given your positioning, you were only able to see them once they started climbing into their canoe, and needless to say that the team’s roster shocked you. There were a few girls you didn’t recognize up front, then Enid and, as her co-pilot in the back, Wednesday.

Your jaw dropped. Because not only was she competing in the competition, but she was also wearing a skintight black catsuit, complete with ears and a tail.

The laugh you let out was so loud that it startled the surrounding crowd. You felt something poking your leg, and looking down, you found Thing standing by your feet. You bent down, glancing over to the Black Cat’s boat.

“Hey, you helping out Wednesday and Enid?”

He bowed in confirmation. Nodding, you stuck out a hand.

“Punch at least one siren for me, alright bud?”

He shook your hand firmly, a promise to fulfill your wish, and crawled off to the boat.

The event itself was rather dull. With the way Enid explained it, you were expecting something a bit more grandiose, but in reality, it was just standing around and watching for boats. Boring.

But hey, it gave you a half-day of classes, so who were you to complain?

The results though, were much more interesting.

For the first time in decades, the trophy went to Ophelia Hall. You were happy, not because you had any buried school spirit, but because you knew how much Enid wanted this. Seeing the fish get knocked down a peg was a nice bonus.

Afterward, you pushed through the crowd to try and find Enid so you could personally congratulate her, but before you could spot her, you bumped into her co-pilot. Literally.

Blindly, you steadied the smaller girl by the shoulders, a sorry on the tip of your tongue, but it got swallowed down as you were crudely reminded of her current state of dress. You tore your eyes from her outfit and dropped your hands back to your side, meeting her glare with what you prayed was a straight face.

“Hey, Wends. Congrats on the win! Love the outfit by the way,” you said, trying your absolute hardest not to crack a smile. The large ears were making that exceptionally hard, however.

She scowled. “Don’t call me that and for your information, I was forced to wear this.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to say anything without laughing. Thankfully, it seemed Wednesday wasn’t finished speaking anyway.

“I noticed that werewolf’s hair is now a rather putrid shade of pink,” she said. “Did you perhaps have something to do with that?”

Once again, you found yourself unsuccessfully fighting off a smile. “I can neither confirm nor deny your suspicions. But it suits him, don’t you think?”

Before she could respond, a soaking wet Thing pulled on your pant leg and excitedly began recounting what happened. You bent down again, nodding along with his story, and beamed at him once he finished.

“Right in the eye?” you reiterated, and Thing confirmed. “That’s awesome. I knew I could count on you.” You gave him a quick high five then scooped him up, drying him off on your uniform and setting him on your shoulder.

You stood back up and saw that Wednesday was still there, staring at you so intently that you were sure she was somehow looking straight through you.

Cocking your head to the side, you went to ask if she was alright, but that must’ve knocked her from her stupor because, without another word, she spun on her heel and walked off, leaving you to stare at the spot she just occupied, thoroughly bewildered.

“That was weird,” you commented. Thing gave an agreeing pat.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t question her about it since you didn’t get the chance to speak with her again until exactly three days later.

It was just after dinner. Thing invited you over to help prepare a new scheme, and who were you to say no to the little guy?

Enid was visiting Yoko in the infirmary and Wednesday was nowhere to be seen, so it was just you and Thing, sitting by the window hard at work.

You tied the water balloon in your hand and held it in front of you, giving it a contemplative look. “You’re sure these will only give them bad rashes, right?”

The only response you received was a shrug, which was good enough for you, so you picked up the next one and got to filling it up. Not one to work in silence, you voiced a thought you’d been holding in for a while.

“So, do you breathe? Like, would be able to drown if you stayed under the water for too long?”

Thing shook his wrist matter of factly. You gasped.

“That’s so cool.” The flustered thuds you heard after made you chuckle.

Satisfied, you went back to filling balloons, but your head popped up only a minute later, another burning question on your mind. “If you can’t eat or drink, then what physically sustains you to keep you alive?”

Without missing a beat, Thing tapped out his answer.

“The misery of others?” You snorted. “Yeah, I guess that tracks.”

Conversation lapsed into quiet as you both focused on your tasks, and your mind wandered.

You wondered where Wednesday was. The hour just after dinner was her designated writing hour, and it was very unusual for her to be missing it.

You hoped that she’d be back soon, even if she only glared at you the rest of the night. Just seeing her would be enough to satisfy you.

Because in a somewhat cruel twist of irony, you were now falling victim to the very same feelings you mocked others for getting caught up in, and even more brutal was the fact that you didn’t mind all too much. Mostly because it was Wednesday.

Now, you were no poet or writer. You weren’t going to wax poetic and spew a thousand grandiose metaphors about how her eyes resembled that of a starless sky, no.

Wednesday was really pretty and genuinely interesting, and she looked at you like a predator wanting to tear apart its prey. And really, that’s all it took for you to dive right off that cliff’s edge into infatuation.

There was a certain excitement in knowing that she could dismember you with surgical precision if you ever went just a little too far, an irresistible thrill to be found in constantly toeing that line. Like walking a tightrope with life and death teetering on a knife’s edge—the perfect counterbalance to the endless loop of monotonous boredom your life had seemingly fallen into before her and Thing’s arrival.

The sound of the door opening interrupted your train of thought, and you whipped your head just in time to see Wednesday stride in with a book cradled in her arms and her usual annoyed expression adorning her features.

You perked up, and out the corner of your eye, you saw Thing do the same.

“Hey! How’s Nevermore’s resident tiny terror doing today?”

“Call me that again and I will disembowel you,” came her cheerful reply. You snorted.

“Uh-huh.” You finished tying the last balloon and looked back up, seeing Wednesday eyeing your prep work with distaste.

“Are those water balloons?” she asked, clearly unimpressed.

“Yep. They’re filled with holy water so we can throw them at the vampires who were teasing Enid last week for not being able to shift.” You grinned. Wednesday’s eyes widened a fraction.

“That’s insane,” she commented. Then after a beat, “Make sure to film it on your cellular device so I can watch as well.

“Of course,” you assured her, giving a dramatic bow as well. She rolled her eyes, and you watched her resign to her desk. Unable to contain your curiosity, you piped back up, “So what took you so long? I was expecting you to come in and kick me out hours ago.”

Her reply was instantaneous. “I discovered a secret passageway in the school, committed theft, and became the target of an attempted kidnapping.”

A twinge of jealousy pierced your gut. How come she always got to do the fun stuff? You quickly shook it off, focusing on the first thing she said.

“A secret passageway?” you asked, already thinking of ways to possibly utilize the space for you and Thing.

“Yes, I solved a riddle and uncovered a passageway hidden behind the Edgar Allen Poe statue in the quad.”

The Edgar Allen Poe statue… Recognition sparked, and the pieces slotted together, some of your prior jealousy abating.

“Ohh, you got kidnapped in the Nightshade’s Library?”

Finally, she looked at you, gaze so sharp it could’ve cut you in two. “How do you know about that?”

You and Thing shared an unsubtle sideways glance.

“Uh—”

“So what fingers do you do it with? Thumb and ring finger or thumb and middle finger?”

The pressing question was delivered in a whisper. It was late—at least an hour after lights out, but Thing promised to teach you how to snap before he left for his dorm.

So to avoid being caught, you and the appendage were tucked into the corner of a small hall that branched off from the quad. You were hunched against a tall Edgar Allen Poe statue while your companion stood next to you.

Thing waggled his fingers and pointedly put his thumb against his middle finger. You nodded and copied his movements, rubbing the fingers together to get a feel for it.

“So I just…”

You pressed the fingers together and made the snapping motion a few times in quick succession, beaming up at him when you managed to produce a few low sounds.

Suddenly, a deep rumble emanated from the ground beneath you as the statue you were seated on began to shift. You leapt to your feet, quickly grabbing Thing and placing him on your shoulder. You both watched, baffled, as the statue moved to reveal a long winding staircase.

Taking in a breath, you shared a look with Thing then looked back to the open pathway.

“Holy shit!”

“No reason,” you said far too quickly to be believable. Before she could question you further, you cleared your throat and moved on. “Did you have fun?”

“No. They were imbeciles that didn’t even know the basics of the art of abduction. It was pitiful.”

You frowned. “Oh. Sorry about that. I hope the next one is better.”

Wednesday shot you a strange look, studying you carefully before mumbling out a barely audible thank you, and turning back to her desk.

Since you were finished with the balloons, you slumped back against the window. There was nothing to do, so you couldn’t be blamed for the way your eyes drifted back to Wednesday’s hunched form. Nosiness tugged at you. You wanted to know more about what she stole and why, and a glance at Thing told you that he did too.

Extending your arm for him to climb, you waited until he rested securely on your shoulder before heading to Wednesday’s desk to see what she was up to.

Lying flat on the wood before her was the book, opened to an illustration. On the left page was what looked to be a pilgrim extending a staff toward the figure on the right, who somewhat resembled Wednesday. You squinted. Scratch that, the girl on the right looked exactly like Wednesday.

“Is this what you stole?”

“Yes, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t look over my shoulder like that.”

Her words went in one ear and out the other, your mind too busy trying to decipher the meaning of the drawing to actually listen. Finally, the identity of the mystery pilgrim clicked, and you asked, “Why’d someone draw you in a picture with Crackstone?”

Her head whipped over to you, all complaints of you being there gone. “You know who this is?”

“Yeah,” you answered, “Joseph Crackstone. He’s like, Jericho’s chief colonizer. Founded the whole town or something.”

She didn’t respond, seeming to take in the information, but you didn’t want the conversation to die quite yet, so you carried on.

“Outreach Day is next week, are you excited? I, for one, am pumped to do menial work for no pay.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, then appeared to rethink her answer. “Actually yes, but not because of the forced child labor. I already have plans to further my investigation in Jericho.”

You perked up, leaning forward to try and catch her eyes. “Can I come?”

She didn’t even bother looking back at you when she answered, hard and firm.

“No.”

“Thanks for letting me come along, Wends!”

Wednesday clenched her jaw, expelling a sharp breath through her nose. This was the third time you’d said that in the past four hours, and while she was able to ignore the other two, the addition of that stupid nickname made holding herself back a third time impossible.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that? And you’re only here because someone,” she sent Thing a murderous glare, “refused to cooperate without your agonizing presence.”

Your eyes widened, darting over to the hand resting on your shoulder. “Really?”

Thing gave a shy wave. A wide smile spread across your cheeks in response.

“Well thanks for advocating for me, bud. It means a lot,” you said with a hand over your heart, sounding far too cheerful for someone that just chased a dangerous monster.

Wednesday didn’t bother dignifying you with any more responses, turning back to the woods ahead. But that got her thinking.

Why had she let you come anyways?

There was no good reason that came to mind. You were insufferable. The human embodiment of vexation and foolishness and petulance. You were, in essence, all the traits she disliked in the general human race given physical form.

And yet, she had allowed you to come along.

Yes, Thing asked her time and time again to permit your presence, but instead of threatening his life like she should have done, she gave in with the silent promise of revenge.

It made no sense. You pushed boundaries, disobeyed orders, and disregarded her threats and insults with a garish smile like they were no more than a joke heard in passing.

And only now did she realize that she found it far less irritating than she did when she first met you.

The answer to why was unclear, but Wednesday wasn’t sure if that was because she was genuinely unsure of the reasoning behind her decision or because she didn’t want to figure it out.

Your annoying voice thankfully halted her mind’s trajectory.

“Of course, you’re my favorite Addams. You’re my best friend, the only other five-fingered appendage I’ll ever need in my life. Plus, Wednesday hates me so there’s no competition.”

Wednesday was once again stunned by the inane conversations you and Thing have on a daily basis. Some of the talks she’d overheard in the past months could be unironically described as mind-numbing.

Deciding to have some fun to pass the time, she turned to fully face you, running her eyes over your form before speaking.

“I don’t hate you.”

She watched your eyes go wide and you looked at her with some odd form of hope. The corners of her lips twitched.

“I despise you. There’s a difference.”

Your head dropped exaggeratedly, but when you looked up again there was a smile on your face, making any notion of hers disappear.

She couldn’t stand that—the way you were never put off by anything she had to say.

Enid had the same tendency to shrug off her threats, but even she was unnerved when she first met Wednesday. But not you. Wednesday couldn’t think of a single time when anything she said, threat or otherwise, made you uncomfortable or fearful, and there was seldom anything that got under her skin more.

“That was mean, Wednesday. Really mean.” She noticed Thing say something on your shoulder and you gave a playful gasp in response. “Don’t laugh, Thing. That wasn’t funny,” you said, even though you were giggling yourself.

At the sight and sound of your laughter, something strange happened. Something combusted within her, and the flames spread, licking her sternum with an uncomfortable intensity. Like someone crudely lit a match and let it fall inside of her chest, allowing the fire to wreak havoc on her insides. It was unpleasant.

Even more unpleasant was the knowledge that this was not the first time this had happened. And that was but another in the long list of reasons why she shouldn’t have permitted your presence today.

She faced forward abruptly and kept walking, but you entered her peripheral moments later, no doubt ready to bother her with something.

As always, she was proven correct. “Hey, so you said that Crackstone was in that vision with your ancestor, right? And he killed a bunch of outcasts?”

“Correct.”

That mischievous smile she had come to recognize spread across your face, pulling your lips up at a slightly uneven angle.

“What do you say we get a little revenge?”

“And how exactly do you propose we get revenge on a pilgrim that died centuries ago?” she inquired skeptically.

You hummed. “Undecided but you go on ahead and just let the masterminds cook for a bit. I promise we’ll come up with something great.”

You and Thing flashed her a simultaneous thumbs-up, to which she just blinked. Not needing to be told twice, she started walking again, leaving you both to linger behind. Once there was a sufficient distance between you and her, she slowed slightly.

Though she had just made a vital discovery for her case, she figured this brief period of quiet would be better spent unpacking that persistent internal conflagration that flared whenever you were near.

Deigning to use her tried and true investigative process, she tried to start from the beginning, to gather all the information she had and prepare it for analysis, but she immediately got lost because truthfully, she couldn’t pinpoint the start of your assimilation into her daily routine.

Her…acquaintanceship with you made little sense, even to her. Especially to her. The same could also be said about her budding friendship? with Enid, but that was easier to parse.

Enid was her roommate; someone she quite literally couldn’t avoid since they lived together. But you weren’t. You were Thing’s friend, sure, but that didn’t answer the question of why Wednesday was becoming entangled with you as well.

However, looking at it from a logical perspective, it somewhat made sense.

A mutual penchant for mischief and practical jokes is what drew you and Thing together. In that same vein, she supposed that your insatiable appetite for adventure and her unquenchable thirst for triumph put you both on a collision course that neither of you could prevent. Especially in such a creatively stagnant climate as Nevermore.

A rebel and a renegade—two of a kind. You understood her and, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she understood you.

She just didn’t know how to interpret the unexpected side effects that came with that mutual understanding.

(That was a lie, she realized. Somewhere deep down she knew, but she didn’t want it to mean what she thought it might. After all, she couldn’t possibly be letting someone like you turn her into an apostate to her own beliefs and morals…right?

She thought back to what she said to her mother on her first day, how hypocritical her words looked in the face of this dilemma. God, how pitiful of a circumstance she found herself in.)

Either way, Wednesday had allowed the sparks to ignite, and she knew that any chance she had of tempering the subsequent wildfire it caused was lessening with every moment she knowingly spent with you in her space.

Part of her didn’t want to anyway.

Approaching voices behind her caught her attention. Focusing on the present once more, she listened in.

“That’s an awesome idea, right?” she heard you say lowly.

Wednesday rolled her eyes. Everything was either cool, awesome, or amazing to you. She desperately needed to expand your vocabulary if you were going to be sticking around. For her sanity.

Wet footsteps neared, and you ran ahead of Wednesday, turning to face her with a demeanor resembling that of an excitable puppy. She sped up her pace, but you matched it, even while walking backward.

“Ok, Wednesday, plan secured. You know what I need?”

“A thesaurus?”

You blinked, brows furrowed, then shrugged. “Yeah, probably but I was actually gonna say that I need gasoline, and matches.”

“Well, there’s a hardware store a block down from the Weathervane, you could get gasoline from there. I have the matches covered.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrow quirked, a grin appearing along with it. “You have matches on you?”

“Of course. I carry a box with me everywhere I go.”

Your smile widened.

Wednesday ignored the flames ravaging her organs and asked, “Are you going to tell me what this ‘plan’ is?”

“And ruin the surprise? No. All I’m gonna say is that you should have another song prepared for the unveiling.”

She narrowly avoided rolling her eyes again. Given the materials you needed, Wednesday had a good idea of what you were planning anyway, and thankfully, she had just the song in mind.

The three of you parted ways as you reentered the town proper, you and Thing running off to gather supplies, and Wednesday, after handing her matches over, headed into the square to prepare her cello.

Unsurprisingly, she was the first person there. She sat in the seat by her cello, languidly checking its strings more out of a need for something to do than because she needed to. Her cello was always perfectly tuned.

It didn’t take very long for you to follow, running into the square with a canister of gasoline and a bag of what looked to be gunpowder. She heard a low “let’s blow this fucker back to hell, Thing” before you split up, Thing pouring the gasoline in the base of the statue while you created a trail of black powder from the statue to behind the bleachers.

Wednesday watched you, the familiar feeling of being proven right tugging her lips upward. If nothing else, your flair for the dramatic was commendable.

You both finished and took refuge behind the bleachers just as people started filing in for the ceremony. As the normie high school band set up behind her, she took note of how nobody looked particularly enthused to be here (besides Enid, who would somehow find a way to be excited to watch paint dry).

Soon, the ceremony was underway, and it was as underwhelming as Wednesday expected it to be. Just a plethora of fake smiles, stale claps, and off-key notes from the laughingstock of a “band” performing with her.

An explosion might not even be enough to resuscitate the audience at this point.

Once the fountain was turned on, Wednesday sent a sideways glance to you and you nodded, signaling something to Thing on the ground below. A trail of smoke and the telltale sound of burning gunpowder followed and Wednesday felt her dead heart begin to pick up pace at the thought of the coming anarchy.

Finally, the looming bronze figure burst into a brilliant ball of flame, the sound of the blast washing away the wretched off-key notes of the incompetent band behind her.

As the panic began to set in, her fingers moved on their own, relishing the familiar feel of the aching, discordant cords of Vivaldi’s Winter.

In moments, Jericho’s empty streets were flooded with people running in terror as sirens wailed in the distance. The harmonious screams that erupted from both outcasts and normies alike were almost more pleasant to her ears than the song that she was playing.

Principal Weems glared at her from afar, eyes narrowed in brewing suspicion, and Wednesday stared right back, lips coiling into a poisonous smile.

Tearing her eyes away from the principal, she peered through the haze of the smoke toward the bleachers. You were watching her with wide, awestruck eyes and a smile. You only looked away briefly to give Thing a fist bump before turning back toward her, but her gaze never faltered from you. Even with all of the glorious chaos happening around her.

That horrible, detestable feeling in her chest returned with a vengeance, blazing brighter than the raging fire to her right. But in this moment, she welcomed it, let it fuel her as the music reached its climax.

As the warm orange glow of the flames reflected off the raw excitement and amazement in your eyes and her treacherous song came to its end, Wednesday recognized that perhaps neither hatred nor disdain was quite the right word to describe how she felt for you after all.

And perhaps becoming a heretic and a hypocrite wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world after all (though it would certainly be close).

#wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega #quality is 2/10 but fun factor is 9/10 #at least for me idk

1K notes · View notes

lucettapanchetta · 2 months

Text

[LIVE BROADCAST] - PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment [ So, did you get a chance to listen to what Chasing Wind sent over? ] [ I haven't gotten back to him, but yes, I have. ] [ You seem... less commentative to say the least. ] [ Well, there's an obvious reason to that... something I think you know very well the answer to. ] [ That's true, but would you like to explain why? I don't mind hearing a fellow friend out, especially with what's been going on as of late. ] [ ... ] [ Have you ever felt, guilty about something? ] [ Not particularly at this very moment. Why? ] [ Well, I care deeply for a few iterators, and well, I care deeply for Moon. ] [ ...and there are some aspects of my existence that enjoys helping others out; however, what happens when you do the opposite? ] [ Well, that's a good question, I suppose it would provoke a sense of guilt. ] [ Where are you going with this? Because if you are going to blame yourself for Moon's recent behavior, you shouldn't. ] [ ...that's the issue. ] [ I am to blame. ] [ Back when Sliver of Straw signaled the triple affirmative, Moon messaged me about her sentiments towards the whole ordeal. ] [ She sounded so distressed, but deep down, she wanted to know how it occurred. I could tell by her demeanor. ] [ So, I handed her as much information that could be given via "alternative" means. ] [ Some general knowledge, some technical, some... forbidden. ] [ When she finally gave her thoughts on it, she was appalled that such a method could be implemented by any iterator. ] [ ...and usually, that is where most stop when they read upon the concept of self-destruction. ] [ However, what Moon must've read most likely inspired her more than push her away... ] [ ... ] [ I'm listening. ] [ Not to sound pessimistic, but I'm afraid if we can't find another means of reaching her, then she'll fall apart. ] [ I understand, I also worry about Five Pebbles. I'm concerned that his systems are irreversibly damaged. ] [ I guess, in a way, that is what makes me feel guilty. By giving Moon this information, I might lose her and indirectly cause the collapse of another iterator. ] [ To be honest, it does eat away at me too that we can't do much right now. ] [ Hopefully, once Moon lowers her processing power, Five Pebbles could send over the wide sweep diagnostics test. That way, we could get started. ] [ ...but for now, we have to wait regardless of how both of us feel. ] [ Everyone makes mistakes, even we as godlike machines are unfortunately blessed with emotions from a bygone era. ] [ Good point... ] [ Listen, if anything happens, I will catch you when you fall. ] [ Same here. Except if what's "falling" is your superstructure, then you're on your own. ] [ Heh. Glad to see you are getting back your snide attitude. ]

#rw slugcat #rain world #rw iterator #looks to the moon #rainworld #rainworld au #rw downpour #rain world fanart #rainworld spoilers #rw lttm #rw au #rw art #my art #rw no significant harassment #rw seven red suns #five pebbles #rainworld roleswap

122 notes · View notes

httpshujii · 5 months

Text

𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐈𝐬 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 彡 In which . . . Rindou needs to know.

〔CW〕 — Fluff in the beginning, angst (im so sorry), f!reader, death, mentions of blood (one time), a cliff hanger if you squint + let me know if I missed anything !

〔AN〕 — I'm sad. And I'm really sorry for making you guys sad also.

Rindou was once in love. He was in love with cherry blossoms, in love with the moon, and in love with Spirea flower bushes. He fell in love with these things because you were in love with them.

He was only eight when he first met you, playing with small water guns with his brother. Chasing each other around the playground, the younger Haitani looked away from his direction for a little too long, only to bump into you, a mere child that wasn’t older than him by much.

He didn’t care much at first, but the small sounds of sniffling didn’t go unnoticed. Looking back down at you, a frantic girl searching for something that fell.

“No no no..”

Small hands patting down at the floor to feel something other than small pebbles and twigs. Rindou grew curious.

He wasn’t curious about much, he has Ran to explain things for him when needed, but Ran is long gone trying to fix his braid that got ruined from all the running.

With a sigh, Rindou crouched down to the crawling girl.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?”

Looking up, Rindou sees nothing but fat tears, puffy cheeks, and wet lips. The sight of such sad, doe eyes making his stomach jump once, “A ring..”

With the back of your hands, you wipe away your tears, trying to get a good look at the boy in front of you, “A ring?”

“A ring,” you confirm, “a golden one.”

With a hum from his throat, Rindou looks around with you. But with Ran cutting Rindou’s moment short, he had to go home for dinner.

“Sorry, gotta go.”

You barely talked, but you liked him. He helped you.

“W-wait!” chasing after him shortly, Rindou turns with an arched brow, “Hm?”

“Your name.” It sounded like a demand, but he would think otherwise with how shy you look, twiddling with the skirt of your dress, your lips out in a pout.

“Rindou.”

“I’m [name]!”

“See you.”

You came to the playground the next day in search of your ring, maybe also hoping to see Rindou. You like Rindou. He’s funny looking. But he helped you.

You walked around the area that you bumped into him, searching with your eyes as if your life depended on it.

“Why is it so important to you?”

You perk up and smile at the sound of your new friend, “Rindou!”

“You’re so loud..”

“Sorry.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What’s important?”

“The ring.”

Your smile drops and you furrow your brows, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

He snorts at that, his lip twitching up into a mock smile, “I’m probably older than you.”

“How old are you?” Your arms cross over your chest, hip tilting to the side in a sassy manner.

“Eight.”

“Aw shucks…”

“Why is it important.” Rindou is curious, he wasn’t curious about much.

“I’ll tell you when I’m older.”

You’re so persistent, Rindou doesn’t like that, “Please?”

With a shake of your head, he sighs and grows impatient, “If I help you and find your ring, will you tell me?”

“I guess.”

“You promise?”

He held out his pinky, immediately, you link yours with his, “Promise.”

Rindou made it his life goal to find that ring. He would spend days with you, this went on for what felt like forever until you both suddenly forgot about it.

You both grew up to be the closest of friends. He grew fond of your likes and dislikes, he learned so much from you, and despite his walk into fights and ill doings, he still treated you as always.

Unfortunately for his known identity, you became a target of many. Driven by the greed to beat the Haitani’s place and only cause more corruption than there already is, Rindou protected you.

Until he saw you fall to the roots of a cherry blossom tree. Your blood painting the trunk of the tree. It was a cold spring night. And despite the ice in the air and in Rindou’s heart, he blushed at your warm smile, your breathless giggle, and your last words.

“Guess I’ll have to tell you when we meet again, huh Rin.”

Rindou was curious, he wasn’t curious about much.

He was curious about why he cried so much and why he frantically called your name despite your skin going cold, why did he hug you and whisper words he wanted to tell you on so many occasions and why couldn’t he protect you.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Rindou dragged his feet across the tiled floor of the playground. It’s been a month since you left, a whole month of being alone.

He cried every night since then, “You’re an idiot. You broke your stupid promise.”

Rindou looked around the park, everything is so small now. And dark.

Always at home for dinner time, not allowed to be out past six in the evening.

He walks towards a small flower bush. Pink buds of baby petals, ‘Spirea’ you once told him.

“They’re pretty right Rin-rin?”

“You’re prettier.” He wished to say.

“I’m an idiot.”

The moon is out tonight, he turns to face it.

“The moon is my best friend.” You smiled a little too brightly for his liking.

“What about me?”

“You’re my favorite-best friend.”

“Can I be more?” He wished to ask.

He walked a little further, a glint of something shiny catching his eye as he looked away from the bush.

Rindou is curious, he isn’t curious about much.

He walked back to the bush, crouching down to toss with the soil.

Another glint, and gently pinching his thumb and pointer around a small object.

Gray eyes widen and tears threaten to spill as he holds a golden ring in his palm, the little thing is faded of color, but nothing a rinse in the water can’t fix. How is it still there? After all these years?

“You’re supposed to tell me now.”

He smiled for the first time in a month. And cried for the nth time this month.

“Rindou, what's with the necklace?”

Ran is observant, Rindou doesn’t like that.

“Just thought it’d be cool.”

The younger one answers, one hand pushing his glasses up his nose and the other spinning the golden ring on the silver chain that decorates his neck.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠: @natdu @linalilalu @kitorin @chigirizzz

Join the TAGLIST ! DM me privately if you'd like to be removed from the list.

#[𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧]#✶≼[TOKYO REVENGERS]#ஜ˳༄꠶ RINDOU #rindou x reader #rindou haitani #rindou tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers angst #rindou angst #rindou haitani angst #rindou x you #haitani rindou #rindou x y/n #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo rev angst

189 notes · View notes

horanghater · 6 months

Text

Judgement Call

Summary: You only have 1 job: Don’t let the werewolf out of the basement.

▸ Pairing: werewolf!DK/Seokmin x F!reader

▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 18+ / pwp (smut) / established relationship, supernatural If you are a minor AND/OR if your account has no age in the bio, you will be blocked upon interacting (liking/reblogging) with this post.

▸ Warnings: breeding, a bucket of drool, biting

▸ Word Count: 1.2k

▸ A/N: This is my entry for KBCS’s Blood and Bane event! 🐺 The prompt ofc being: breeding kink. Thank you @shuadotcom for your beta services (no pun intended lol) as always!

Read more at the top because grown up words are in the first paragraph.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Dokyeom is a gentle giant with too much self control. Everything about him is oversized. Yet, the way he keeps his palm to the small of your back in public is reassuring. He holds you in your shared bed delicately, as if you’re a baby bird. He fucks you as if every thrust could break you.

Holy shit, you wish he would break you. Just once.

You both know that he could. It’s not that Dokyeom has to set out to either; quite the opposite. Dokyeom is always holding back for fear of hurting you.

As the days bleed together and the nights inch closer and closer to a full moon, he gets a little careless. His canines linger on the fleshy part of your thighs and the pressure teeters on painful. Long digits grip small, purple bruises into your hips. Enormous palms force your legs up to dangle your feet near your head for so long that your hips feel it in the morning.

Then, when the moon has reached its full magnificence for all to witness, Dokyeom is gone. He’s not far; just in the basement actually. You huff and roll your eyes every time your scheduled Rules meeting rolls around, but your boyfriend still insists on reviewing everything thoroughly and consistently.

The Rules:

Double-check the restraints.

Double-check the basement door lock.

Do not investigate any sounds.

Do not come to the basement for any reason before 8am.

Tonight, you exaggerate your pout as you salute him playfully on the landing of the basement stairs. You pout even harder when you step back after locking him in heavy metal wristlets chained to the floor. Dokyeom flashes his signature LED smile and sunny “love you”. It doesn’t make you any less upset about having to lock him away, but you’re forgiving enough to just go along with it.

What Dokyeom isn’t aware of is that you’re also forgiving enough to take whatever he dishes out when you head downstairs in nothing but a nightgown and a key around your neck at half past midnight.

You only make it halfway down the stairs when the chains rattle, then clang as they’re pulled taut. A cautious, deep rumble from Dokyeom’s chest cuts through the darkness. When you reach the bottom and flick the lightswitch on, he’s only a few feet from the steps – it’s as close as he can get with the cuffs on. Crimson eyes stare you down, unblinking and predatory as Dokyeom’s gaze roots you to the spot. You should be worried and you should be fearful and you should go upstairs, but when you look past his fangs and claws, there’s an unmistakable tent in his basketball shorts that makes the sensible part of your brain shut down immediately.

“Out.” Your boyfriend's voice is deeper and so much more gravelly than you would have expected. It’s as if he hasn’t spoken in eons and nearly forgot which language he speaks.

One thing’s for sure: his tone is speaking directly to your pussy.

“Out!”

Dokyeom growls again, straining against the chains as you disrobe where you stand, skin instantly pebbling with goosebumps from the draft. His expression keeps changing in a kaleidoscope of contradicting emotions, but it’s clear which one wins out the second you dare to enter his personal bubble.

The hook of Dokyeom’s nails threatens to puncture as his fingers curl around your wrist and yank you toward him. It’s not exactly tender, but he’s reasonably careful as he lowers your down onto the blanket – the only “amenity” here, at his request – so you’re laid bare beneath him. The two of you stay frozen, Dokyeom panting above you as he scrutinizes every inch of your body.

It’s not until your hand reaches to cup the side of his face that he lets go. He leans into the touch before mouthing your hand, leaving a trail of drool in your palm. There’s no time to complain – he’s got to be only half-listening at best, anyway – with how he’s yanked your legs apart so he can slot himself in to rut against your cunt sloppily.

Dokyeom was not small to begin with, but his bulge is noticeably bigger now. Is it harder, too? Is that possible? Yes and yes, you confirm as you (barely) manage to slide your hand between your bodies and catch the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down to expose his hips.

A shaky, high-pitched sigh/whine lets you know how much he appreciates the gesture as he lines his tip up with your weeping entrance. Dokyeom is physically shaking as he does so, eyes screwed shut as he begins to enter as slowly as he can bear. The bliss of your heat keeps his mouth hanging open in a silent groan, letting more saliva fall from the gape like a faucet that douses the link between your bodies.

If you’d had a chance to study his cock as it is now, there’s a good chance you would have chickened out. With your hubris and his reduced impulse control, though, you make it work. Once he’s fully inside of you, you’re only given a few seconds before he’s thrusting. Dokyeom’s cock fills you deep, deep, deeper than you’ve ever felt before. In your daydreams, you’d pictured yourself full, yet still dainty, arms above your head as you sigh with pleasure. In reality, you barely sound human yourself as you hiss and yelp beneath him while the shape of his cock projects itself in the pouch of your lower belly, clawing at his sides because he’s too wide to even get your arms around him in this form.

Dokyeom has never been shy about letting you know how good you feel, but he’s so vocal like this. You know he’s close, even without words. Grunts smooth themselves into whimpers and growls slip into the beginnings of a howl.

You’re close too and you tell him so, but he doesn’t seem to acknowledge it at first. The way you ragdoll in Dokyeom’s grasp as he suddenly hoists you up by the waist to fuck into you harder would be comical if you could see yourself, but your eyes are too busy rolling into the back of your skull. He pins you down with his full weight, nearly taking the wind out of you as his thrusts become short and sharp.

He rests his lips on your shoulder, breath almost searing as he murmurs, “Love you, breed you.” It’s not clear if he’s asking or telling you, honestly, but you wouldn’t be here in this moment if that mattered to you.

Dokyeom is yours and you are his. It’s sealed when you cum on his cock and he drives into you one last time, howl muffled into your shoulder as fangs compress and then perforate your delicate skin. It should hurt and you’ll certainly need to patch yourself up later, but the pain only pushes you deeper into euphoria as he floods your pussy with hot cum.

Just like when you started, the two of you suspend your movements, catching your breath. This is the part where you both come down together and Dokyeom pulls you into his chest lovingly.

There’s just one little detail you didn’t consider in your excitement leading up to tonight: Werewolf Dokyeom doesn’t just want to breed you; he has to. And one session is simply not enough to get the job done.

#kbcshallo2023 #svthub #kvanity #dk svt #dokyeom #seokmin #dk x reader #dokyeom x reader #seokmin x reader #dk smut #dokyeom smut #seokmin smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #dk fic #dokeyom fic #seokmin fic #svt fic #seventeen fic

251 notes · View notes

thatfuckinjester · 3 months

Text

i am deep in thoughts and being haunted by a past that was never meant for me so here's some thoughts about the quints in the "phantom believing that he's going to be sent back to the pit" au that's been running in my head. and it is connected to this.

omega can't even look at the stars again because it reminds him of soft nights with his pack, of looking in terzo's eyes, of alpha hugging him, of mist cuddling close to him, of zephyr handing him a cup of coffee when he yawned for the third time in less than five hours, of pebble gifting him a star tulip for the first time because even if he's always angry he cares, of cowbell and the sparkle in his eyes, of ifrit and his smile.

aether wishes to hate the stars, he wants so bad to want to go back to the pit, to where his home was for so long, but anytime the stars blink in the sky he's hypnotized by their brightness. maybe it's because his family is the pack and they're still topside, maybe he wants to want to go back because he feels like there's no place for him in the pack anymore. maybe aether's scared that if he'll stay topside he'll just become a nobody to the pack.

phantom who loves the stars so much it hurts, he just wants to stay and watch them forever, there aren't any stars in the pit and his heart aches just thinking about how they'll send him back and he won't ever see the stars again.

omega's eyes already lost their brightness, there's a dull light in there, like the sky when you can't see any stars, like when the only light at night is the moon but you still can't find it in the sky.

aether's eyes are burning bright, the star thst burns brightest is caught in his eyes, and he burns with it.

phantom didn't have enough time topside for his eyes to shine bright like the stars. but he has fog in them, as if he has lost himself in the stars. maybe it's because he decided to hate the stars for being there when he knows he's going to be sent back as soon as possible.

omega will look at the stars with a pained smile, he's made of them too, why can't he burn as fast as some do?

aether will look at the stars with tears in his eyes, he never was even half of the smallest stars, maybe he doesn't deserve to be made of them.

phantom will look at the stars with pain in his eyes, he tries so hard to hate them so he won't miss them when he can't see them again. he doesn't know he's allowed to love them, he doesn't know that he'll have more time to look at them.

and when phantom said goodbye to the stars, aether knew he can never be mad at the stars for still loving them, he can look at the stars and still appreciate them, still love how he's a part if them. and omega felt like maybe the stars are an old friend who he has good memories with and nothing bad driving them apart, he can still look at them with a smile, life just happened.

and maybe it'll all be okay.

and maybe all quintessence ghouls are made to burn themselves out.

#jester rumbling #*plays a small violin because i'm expression feelings again*#ghost #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #omega #omega ghoul #omega ghost #aether #aether ghoul #aether ghost #phantom #phantom ghoul #phantom ghost #quintessence ghouls #phantom believing that he's being sent back to the pit

70 notes · View notes

abberant-butler · 4 months

Text

/dusts this blog off just to lay down a little Barbatos/MC angst and leave again

_____________________

Barbatos finds you dancing in the garden. You’ve drawn away from the party. It’s raucous as most of Diavolo’s gatherings eventually become. Demons and indulgent situations have no other ending. There’s fun to be had, but the noise- growing and growing- rightfully became too much and the air had become too warm. So you slipped out to the garden for a moment. Still caught in the light from the windows above, still close enough to hear the music and sway with it.

You stop when you notice him, lingering on the last marble step leading to you. You expect him to chide you. It’s rarely a lecture like Lucifer gives, but the butler has a way of holding you to decorum you’d normally ignore. Yet there’s a smile that glitters in the corner of his eyes, and as he steps down onto the pebbles he offers you a gloved hand.

This is when you know it’s alright. He’s aware the party is loud. He is aware there are many people. He can give you this moment. He can join you, if you let him. Taking his hand, he draws close to you and puts his other hand on your shoulder- letting you lead. It’s almost a surprise, given that if you had to guess who was the more competent dancer, it wouldn’t be you. Yet it makes it… fun. Almost funny. A smile draws onto your lips and a little laugh flutters up from your chest as the rocks make it a bit unwieldy to dance.

A step goes a little too far, you try to over correct, he catches you, only to catch the toe of his shoe himself. He laughs then, too. The music begins to close, and the thought of rejoining the brash and the brazen demons within is still a little daunting. However instead of stepping away Barbatos steps closer, nearing his lips to your ears.

“The young master will not need me to attend him for a little while longer, if you would care for another dance?”

He’s warm, and your arm slides easily to his back to keep him closer still as the music begins to rise again.

Barbatos invites you to dance with him. It’s warm, humid, and the moon hanging low in the garden makes it seem impossibly light. Summer, in your mind. You’ve finished tea, and said that you should be getting back to the House of Lamentation. Ideally before Levi summons Lotan because Mammon teased him about you two missing your show.

The butler simply… couldn’t let you go just yet. There’s a shimmer of gold in his eyes, a little greed shining through when he thinks of parting from your company. Of everyone, he knows keenly how precious your time is.

You have better shoes, at least. Well, better in that they are not as formal, nor as awkward on the rocks. This time you catch Barbatos as he stumbles. Neither acknowledges the lack of grace- the two of you only letting go of your laughter as you move a piece of his longer teal hair out of his face to tuck behind his ear. Your hand is warm in his.

“There’s no music,” you tease, still taking his hand.

“My heart sings whenever I’m with you, can you not hear it?”

You know that you will return to find the brothers and the house in disarray. You know that you will be tired in the morning because Lucifer will not let anyone go to bed until the halls are cleaned and repaired. You should not be so eager to ignore such things, nor should he be delaying his own return to his duties. They are many, after all. Still, holding him close, his heart does sing, and his rich, smooth voice adds its own melody so that you might better keep time. You can’t bring yourself to deny him.

Barbatos dances in the garden. The party is warm, the air filled with the raucous voices of the demons within. A rock beneath his heel rolls as he puts his weight down and he catches himself against the wall, laughing. His other hand presses to his chest in recovery from the surprise as he tucks a strand of teal hair behind his ear. He’s quick to rejoin with the melody, as always.

White gloved hands hold the humid air as tenderly as his heart still holds you. The time of humans is as precious as it is fleeting, after all. No one knows it more keenly than him. It isn’t much, but he hopes that the immortality of your memory is enough to pay his respects.

His lord will not need his attention for a little while longer, he can give you this moment. He’ll have one more dance, for you.

#om barbatos #obey me #obmswd #obey me barbatos #barbatos x mc #barbatos x reader #drabble

129 notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

Text

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [1.5K] prompt: "Let me do this for you, please." A little angst, some hurt/comfort with soft Steve, late night drives and promises of something better.

Steve knew, deep down, that if you asked him to pack a bag and run away with you, he’d say yes.

He loved his house, his bed, his parents who were hardly there, the mismatched group of friends who filled the rooms instead and made it home. He loved them all.

Steve just loved you more.

You didn’t ask him to do that though, you couldn’t, you wouldn’t. But when everything got a little too much, when Hawkins cracked back open and creatures roamed the forests and undergrowth, you asked him just one thing.

When the world got too loud, when the nights didn’t seem safe anymore and you hated your empty bed and you hated the dark, you asked the boy to roll into your street, engine idling, headlights off. He’d sit in the front seat of his car, hair mussed from sleep ‘cause the crackle and static of the walkie talkie would only buzz long after everyone was asleep, when the town had gone to bed.

But he’d do anything you asked, always.

So Steve waited in the warmth of the BMW, watching careful as you slipped out of your front door, hands catching the weight of it before it slammed and you tiptoed down the drive, bare feet and avoiding stones and pebbles, pyjama shorts rolled at your hips, a too big shirt that used to belong to the boy hanging from your frame. He felt himself ache just looking at you, chest too tight, brown eyes all soft and when you climbed in the car beside him, you knelt first, knees pressing into the chair and leaning in to kiss him sweet, a silent thank you for your late night pick up.

The clock on the dash told him it was just about to turn three and the skies were inky, navy clouds on a black canvas, the stars and moon hiding behind the shadows because even they knew the terror that lived down below.

There was always a bat in the back seat, tucked behind the driver's side, ready to pull out if needed, if you happened to run into trouble, if the monsters and nightmares followed you. But they never seemed to.

Steve drove you both out of town, past the Hawkins sign, the one that told you both to come back soon! It stung, it hurt and it took away your sleep. ‘Cause there was an ache there that lived in your head, a steady pulse that told you to run, to grab your loved ones and leave because holy shit, monsters were real and they didn’t just live under your bed, they couldn’t be banished with a bedtime story and a goodnight kiss.

Not anymore.

So the boy drove you both along the highway, past the forests, past the wheat fields and the water tower, driving until the dark skies were tinted with pink and peach, tangerine clouds rising from below the earth, turning the front of the car and your faces golden.

Steve tucked a hand between your bare legs as he drove, secure between your thighs and you dropped your fingers on top, winding them with his as if it were the only thing keeping you going. And when Steve looked at you, with your red rimmed eyes and sleepy pout on your lips, he sometimes wondered if that was true. So he let you hold onto him, he drove you away from Hawkins, away from the dark, away from danger until he found the edge of the next city, buildings a little taller, rivers a little bigger, lights a little brighter.

He’d park up on the outskirts, a clifftop somewhere, a pretty little spot where you could watch the sun come up, light from beaming between a clock tower and some high rises. It was busier there, louder already, even though it seemed like the world was still asleep. He realised that you liked the noise, the static buzz of life and traffic and people that weren’t scared to leave their homes after seven o’clock.

So he’d flick on the radio, let a song crackle soft through the speakers until he watched your shoulders relax, until you sunk a little further into your seat and he knew his job was done when you lifted his hand to your face, pressing your lips into his palm in a quiet thank you that Steve never needed.

The first time you’d asked him to do this, you’d gotten yourself upset, words tumbling out over hiccups and soft sighs, tears brimming at your lashes and he’d taken your face in his hands, thumbs smoothing over the apples of your cheeks and quietened you with a kiss.

“Let me do this, please,” he’d whispered and he remembered the relief he’d felt when you gasped and nodded.

You didn’t need it every night, sometimes months would pass without a call, a soft question crackling from the device that he kept near his bed at all times, balancing on the nightstand, switch always flicked to on and he kept his car keys near.

He was never able to say no to you, even if he wanted to. He never did, never could.

There were times he’d hear from you several times in the week, when things were really bad and you couldn’t close your eyes without seeing wide, gaping mouths, rows of teeth and people who weren’t here anymore.

Those were the times he’d see the light from your bedroom from the end of the street, the only bright beacon in a mile radius, the rest of Hawkins blissfully unaware of the girl in her room, quiet tears rolling down her cheeks until the boy she loved the most in the world came to save her.

He always did.

Steve always would.

And he’d stay there with you until the tears stopped, until you didn’t feel like the world was as heavy anymore. Sometimes you were quiet, just asking to hold his hand, his thumb stroking over yours, keeping you warm and grounded with him.

Sometimes you asked for a story, just to hear his voice, and he’d tell you the myths he remembered from Mr. Kennedy’s freshman history class. Steve would regale you with tales of gods and goddesses, creatures that were never real but always defeated, stories about people who carried the weight of the world on their shoulders, kids who flew too close to the sun.

Other times, when you were too pent up, too on edge, Steve would catch you as you clambered over the centre console, hands grabbing at him, thighs spread on top of his and you’d kiss and kiss and kiss him until he’d bruise up your lips, your neck a pretty pattern of lilac and lavender, and it didn’t hurt to close your eyes when you pressed you mouth to his.

The boy would let you rock over him, make a mess of your little pyjama shorts and his sweatpants, tension and frustration spilling out of both of you in the best way. Steve would always guide you through it, hands wide and warm up the sides of your shirt, fingers roaming lazy over your skin, a flick over a nipple, a bite at your shoulder, a groan pressed into your throat, a raspy ‘that’s my fucking girl’ when he made you come.

He’d always drive you home the same way, body like jelly, eyes sleepy and soft and his hand still in yours, not letting go even when he needed to shift gears and it always made you smile so he never, ever stopped.

The sun would be lighting up the town when you returned, no longer bathed in the shadows, no longer dark and holding secrets. The street lights would be flickering off and the sun would paint the new day pink, the smell of fresh dew on the grass, the sound of sprinklers hissing to life in the yards.

Steve would press kiss after kiss onto your lips before he let you leave, affection pressed to your cheeks, your temples, the tip of your nose, the line of your jaw, the corner of your mouth. He’d tell you he loved you, he’d beam bright when you said it back, voice soft and sleepy but so fucking full of adoration for him.

He would always silence you with another kiss if you tried to say thank you. Brushing it away with promises of running away with you one day, when this was all over and everyone was safe. He painted a picture of a pretty house with a big yard, a dog and a swing set, somewhere far away from Hawkins and the memories it held.

And when you called the next night, the nightmare still making your throat raw and your fingers twisting a white hot grip into your sheets and on the walkie talkie, he’d hear you whisper his name and he’d get back into his car to do it all again.

Steve would do it every night, for you.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things

2K notes · View notes

spotsupstuff · 1 year

Text

actually ey fuck it. list of personal headcanons for the main six iterators some of which i might illustrate properly at some point:

Moon: • one of the first 10 iterators ever built. she is grandma as HELL and totally forgot she is that old • Pebbles sometimes asks her to tell him about the older times, because history nerd. he writes everything she says onto a pearl • in the post i've made talkin bout her and pebs' voice, saying that she sounded like Miku, somebody said that they like to think the ancients made Moon a vocaloid. to that i absolutely agree: she has NO fucking clue what do when it comes to putting a certain emotion into a song but god DAMMIT shes so good at singing • she can add effects to her voice, including a glitch effect. she likes that one the least • -HITS DESK- THE DISAPPEARANCE OF HATSUNE MOON. • she doesn't particularly like to sing, especially not to herself. but she does know that pebbles likes music- the first week after the mass ascension was rough and he was working mostly on autopilot, not answering DMs or anything. she called him up and told him they could sing together, if he wants to. he felt much better afterwards • MOON'S SECRET RAP CAREER • i'll put it here too so it's all in one place: her AI isn't developed enough to understand the emotional quality of any form of art • Moon was upgraded a few times in her function. most of the time it was because her citizens loved her too much to let her go too out of date (specifically in the physical sense. they made sure she wouldn't fall too easily) • one of the first memories she designated as a "core memory" was her first upgrade that was a result of her citizens' riot against the Houses- to keep her safe. she noted it down as "Kindness is effortlessly repaid" • she remembers when iterator comms were connected by a cable rather than radio waves • she also remembers when two of the first 10 collapsed and went into coma, with their citizens of course perishing in the fall and crash. she's still terrified of those days and doesn't like recalling them even for Pebbles • Nish was her first little sib and she feels like she can talk with him about anything. she hates it, but she's distant with Suns- they are always so damn polite and skittish around her... and she absolutely adores the other three. her tiny little wonderful siblings • she didn't like to admit that maybe her hardwave wasn't keeping up with her citizens anymore. at that point she did start to emotionally care less for them, but she still didn't want to admit she wasn't able to provide and protect those she was responsible for • i can't get the image of her being the one to actually ensure the family is gonna financially survive in a more chill au where the iterators r just sorta kinda people. Miss Moon From Accounting... • her overseers were originally blue. she swapped colors with Pebbles all on her own accord. having yellow overseers, seeing them, made her feel even more connected to Pebs • this is basically canon but she fuckin Loves animals. she's the iterator version of Steve Irwin. she also don't kno jack shit about the vegetation • city's representative instrument Evolved- first it was a harp, then it went to a nyckelharpa and then to a violin

Nish: • he is built over marshes to the south-west from Moon and she helped with his blueprints! the Gen 1s had their blueprints checked over by the already built iterators to make sure something wouldn't go wrong. she was so so excited to have a neighbour • the scarf is from his main programmer. the Ancient wrapped it around his puppet's neck before he was even turned online so for the longest time he had no idea that the thing wasn't originally in his design. Moon had to tell him • he became a jokester Entirely because the first time he made Moon laugh he absolutely fell in love with it. he told her and she recommended him looking into jokes. baby boy had no idea what the fuck a joke was so Moon had to explain • when the middle gen started being created, the Ancients noticed that these new iterators didn't have... much of emotional skills. so they turned to the older gens to look for the most emotional and empathetic ones. Nish scored Really High on that survey- his empathy and emotion modules were studied and each time they found something new and better, they upgraded him in that one aspect. so now Sig is one of the biggest crybabies ever. you show him a sad movie and this supercomputer will be lyin on the ground wailing like a newborn. oh and also he makes for a great therapist because he can now just Get It • as the most emotionally... mature? capable? he decided he will be the one to keep a real close eye on everyone in the Local Group after the mass ascension • thanks to all that emotion business he gets along with Suns swimmingly. when Suns needs assistence with figuring out their own emotions or what would be appropriate and not too cold towards someone, they go to him • if he could he'd give everyone younger than him a noogie and you cannot convince me otherwise • the Hunter was a sickly pup that was left behind on his roof by a family that came to him which he directed towards the void sea. they were far too weak for the family to keep them, basically on the death's door. Nish took them in, operated on them, enhanced genes and raised them from there • Is half a medical facility. mister veterinarian, baybeee • since he's a sap, he started to view the Hunter like his own kid at some point. he was also the one who pitched to Suns the idea of sending Spearmaster over to him for visits. Spear tried its best to help raise and train Hunter • the whole rot thing happened because Nish did a stupid and forgot that neurons are quite the fuckin reactive things and continual exposure to what is essentially extra macho giga neuron Can and Will fuck up cells. his and Moon's cans have a long distance between them. it was enough time for Hunter to develop the big owie cancer. he noticed it only when they were too far away and it was already too bad • he felt absolutely Terrible about it. again he loses someone so so very close to him. but this time around? there is no one to be angry at for this but himself • Hunter manages to ascend. Nish watched them leave, silently, in subterranean • he used to do his best to play with his citizens. when a kid came to his chamber, he gave them rides on his puppet's shoulders or the umbilical arm. same went for Hunter • his city is called Risio • city's representative instrument was EITHER a PVC instrument or suona i can't decide for the life of me

Suns: • they were built much further away from the planet's equator than most of the Local Group, meaning they experience polar days and nights • the "Seven" in their name refers to the amount of months the unusually timed sunsets and sunrises last for. for seven whole months, the locality gets only about four hours of Somewhat darkness • in return, they have three full months of relatively strong darkness. their city used to shine bright, during this time. post mass ascension those months are terribly lonely and depressing • because of the warmth they produce, there's an oasis for wildlife underneath them • the warmth was also sung about a lot by their citizens. they've seen it as an incredible blessing- Suns used to run hotter than other iterators just for them. nowadays they are mostly normal though • the outside of their can is tinted blue- frostbitten. that much warmer their yellow, orange and red city feels • their and Moon's personalities clash so hard that they sometimes go out of their way to avoid her. they do appreciate her but talking with her is exhausting. she's a stranger to them, almost • the iterators can project/send their emotions through messages/broadcasts. Suns' messages always sound flat, unless they use the ~ • one of their biggest dreams is to sit with Pebbles leaning against their side, all the while listening to old music of their cities • once Spearmaster returns, the walls of their puppet chamber become completely covered in doodles and masterpieces • they end up standing the longest out of the whole Local Group. bright and warm even after everyone else dies • their city is called Solis • city's representative instrument was an armonica (look that shit up its sick)

Wind: • Wind's can stands in this giant plain. there's like nothing as far as the eye can see and even further Except her. she just stands there like fucking Slanderman XXL version • the plains are absolutely prime location for a spawning grounds of tornadoes and shit like that. the wind is Constantly strong so most of the rain clouds they exhale are immediately blown away • instead of rain they deal with ginormous tornadoes at the end of each cycle. while their superstructure can take it, the comms can't. so Wind is often absent from iterator chats as a result. after the mass ascension these connection knock-outs become a great source of stress and worry for the others cuz they never know if Wind will come back or not this time • because of these comm blackouts, Innocence took it upon herself to catch Wind up on everything they've missed when they come back online. Innocence started doing this all by herself out of seemingly nowhere. she just cares. silently. • the strangest thing about her is that her city is half built within her structure instead of on top of her. the winds can get sometimes so bad that they manage to affect even the top of her can. so the solution was to put half of the city under her skin as a sort of giant bunker • the ancients, not being ones to waste much space, made sure the city can still be used by Wind's processes, in a way. their neurons fly through the streets, completely unbothered, working as makeshift streetlights. the kids used to love chasing after them- never catching any though • sometimes when the wind storms outside got real bad, the kids that were scared of them were sent to Wind's puppet chamber. she used to tell them all kinds of stories or about what she was currently working on • it was often that their puppet chamber would be full of pillows, blankets and sleeping children. they loved their citizens so so much • nicknamed themself "Chasing" Wind in chats because, just like Moon, they are also quite the dreamer • closest with Moon, too. Wind looks up to Moon Immensely. they really wanna be like her one day • Wind is what some people think of Moon- a too kind pushover that doesn't know how to get angry and defend herself. Wind is the kindest, most sensitive and softest person they have in The Local Group. Nish takes care to keep his jabs and jokes about Wind very mild • has a really beautiful voice • likes flowers :) • her city is called Procella • city's representative instrument was a fujara cuz god DAMMIT i love that instrument i Have to slap it on Someone in here. it fits their vibe in my heart either way

Innocence: • she really wishes her surrounding circumstances were in some kind of way special but actually she's built at the least unique place with basically nothing neat happening nearby. there are strange giant cherry trees nearby, but that's about it • fuckin LOVES lizards. she's the one who made the Cyans and sent some over to Pebbles to fuck him up. thankfully, as we all know, Cyans are kinda stupid and since they launch themselves over edges of cliffs they haven't managed to destroy the local ecosystem • her citizens used to keep lizards as pets. most of the time just for the joy of having 0 braincells creature follow you around but some had 'em as sort of hunting dogs • was the one who created The Rivulet. she was mumbling to herself and a friend smth about how boys only screw things up while engineering Riv's genome • she BASICALLY packed Riv into a cannon and shot them over right into the middle of a scav toll cuz "come on, it's not that far away. this will make your journey shorter and shit". i don't care how goofy it sounds, this is how it went in my heart • in possession of probably the most durable comms ever made • claims she's purple! she's actually fake out purple which means homegirl is Deceptive Blue. she CONSTANTLY fights over this with Pebbles • despite their squabbles she did care for Pebbles. she was very excited to not be the youngest anymore and getting to baby someone • her and Nish always start verbal sparring matches, often consisting of threats that more often than not range on impossible to actually commit. they constantly lead their mock wars in #general. Moon's gonna kill 'em one of these days • trusts Moon the most- which is why she outed Pebbles' rot and sent Rivulet with the instructions to extract the rarefaction cell • her city is called Sermo • city's representative instrument was a shamisen. she absolutely knows how to play it and loves to threaten people with the bachi

Pebbles: • the only people he enjoyed doing group projects with were Suns and Wind. he Could do group projects with Moon and Nish but Only if he could race them. rascal found it fun to challenge the nokias 😔 • now with Innocence though? Never. if they were forced to, they could do a great job with minimal communication but they were not going to be happy about it • latched onto Suns exactly because Moon was overbearingly protective and Suns always seems like they couldn't give less of a shit about anyone. sometimes they'd have a videochat open and not say anything for hours as they worked • with Nish he used to like inventing new things. a lot of times the things turned out to be silly or kind of useless which would normally frustrate him, but surprisingly enough Nish made the time spent worth it • Wind's favorite activity was comparing notes with him and then talking about the differences in their research. they'd hum to him happily while the both of them would be sorting through their stuff • i sometimes imagine him having a slight chinese accent and i blame Steven He for this so hard • second most emotional fuck in the group. his emotions mostly rotate around anger, though • he won't admit this to anyone but he really liked it when his and Moon's cans were connected by bridges. it felt like holding hands. he felt more stable. now all he can do is just miss it quietly • was legit surprised when he found out not every iterator has a build in older sister right at their side • his city is called Literally just Metropolis cuz the ancients didn't bother with properly naming it. depeshioumn. • city's representative instrument was adopted straight from Moon since Pebs' citizens were honestly just hers, so- violin it is • Pebbles HAS attempted to learn how to play a violin himself. certainly was a test of patience and puppet dexterity/camera-to-digits control. almost broke the poor thing a few times from nerves

either way, Wind, at the end of each fucking cycle from day 1 of their life:

#Spot says stuff #rain world #rw

219 notes · View notes