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transvampireboyfriend · 1 year

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Had this “Steve only hates impersonal nicknames” idea in my notes for a while and then after seeing @cholvoq ‘s wonderful art I had to turn it into a real thing for Valentine’s Day. This is 2.4k, i’m SO sorry edit: you can now read this on ao3 :)

Eddie’s a nickname guy. It’s always Dusty this and Gare-Bear that and JeffJeff here and Bobbie there and it’s Mikey and Maxxii and Nance-pants and Johnny and… big boy?

Him being a nickname guy makes it near impossible to hide his crushes. Thankfully, Steve had been really cool about it. Sure, he seemed a little stunned, but Eddie still had all his teeth in place by the end of that interaction, so he had called that a win.

He hadn’t known then that Steve was… different. Or he was starting to see it but what he thought was shocking then had really been just the tip of the iceberg. He hadn’t expected Steve to be nice. Or funny, or caring, or protective, or understanding.

He had learned all of that after everything. During chats on Hellfire nights while the kids cleaned up after themselves, during hangouts at the diner with Robin and Nancy, during Saturday afternoons when he went to pick out a movie only to end up talking with Steve, their conversation flowing until it was cut short by Steve’s shift ending.

After some time, Eddie had gotten to know Steve even more during long weekday nights when one came over to bring the other something they left behind, or to share a record, or to demand the beers the other owes or to show the other a stupid article in a stupid magazine only to end up making dinner together and watching a movie afterwards.

They stopped making excuses about two weeks ago.

Eddie had asked “do youuu… wanna come over?” on Saturday night, while nervously twirling his keys as Steve locked the front doors of the Family Video.

The evening chill had cut right through Eddie’s leather jacket as his keys clanged against his rings. But Steve had nodded with a smile and asked “pizza?” on their way to their cars, and Eddie had forgotten all about the cold.

Point being, Steve had been just fine with ‘big boy’ when it happened. Eddie’s a nickname guy. Him and Steve are hanging out more now, and so, Eddie’s been calling him more nicknames. Some of them are very intentional, others come completely without thinking, and it turns out, Steve takes issue with a few of them.

The first time it happens, Eddie’s underneath his van trying to get the damn thing to cooperate, the recent winter was tough on it, and it keeps dying out on him.

Steve sits nearby perched on a little stool, wearing his Family Video vest since he came by right after finishing his morning shift to see if they could make plans for lunch. Eddie suggested they grab something at the diner if and when he finally gets the van to start back up and Steve had agreed to wait.

He’s been telling Eddie about tonight’s basketball- game? match? super bowl? Is there such a thing as the major leagues of basketball? Eddie’s not sure, but he adores the sound of Steve’s voice and he’s kind of invested in the drama of players switching teams and retiring and whatever else Steve wants to tell him about. So, he’s been listening, not really bothering with asking for clarification for what he doesn’t understand yet. He’ll figure it out as they go.

He's blindly patting the floor around his legs for his rag, when he feels Steve put it right in his hand.

Eddie’s relieved. "Thanks, bud!" he says, the nickname just rolling off his tongue effortlessly, no meaning attached.

It gets kind of quiet all of a sudden. After about five seconds of Steve not talking, Eddie comes out to check on him, and finds him frowning at his legs.

"Don't call me ‘bud’" Steve requests, looking up at his face, his tone just a tad harsh. Eddie would think he ran into King Steve if he didn't know any better.

As it is, Eddie gets Steve probably thinks the nickname is childish or patronizing, so he doesn’t think twice of it, just gets a little sheepish and says "sorry, Stevie".

Steve smiles at that, a little cocky. He does his little mean girl shaking his head thing like he just got exactly what he wanted. Eddie feels his face twist a bit in confusion, but he likes it when Steve gets a little mean so he doesn't say anything about it and just dives back under his van as Steve resumes their conversation.

The second time it happens, they’re outside the supermarket. The kids shot out of the van as soon as it rolled to a stop, Steve calling out a warning after them while still listening to Eddie explain why Star Wars and Star Trek are actually very different but really good in their own way. Their conversation carries on as they hop out of the van, lock up and walk to meet at the front.

“I’m telling you, Star Trek is great. You would love it,” Eddie says, “you just have to give it a chance”.

Steve rolls his eyes at him, but Eddie can see his smile.

“Ok, alright,” Steve answers, “you can show me tonight then”, it’s almost too nonchalant. Eddie has to hide his grin.

Steve’s been suggesting they hang out more and more lately, and he can’t help but feel a bit hopeful. They clearly enjoy each other’s company, their time together is never dull, Steve seems to be really comfortable around him and maybe, just maybe…

“Should we get beers then?” Eddie asks, excited at the prospect of some more time alone with him. They haven’t had a weeknight hangout since Eddie fixed his van last week. He kinda misses the very specific color of Steve’s eyes in the Harringtons’ yellow living room lamplight.

“Yeah,” Steve says, his eyes get soft in a way Eddie only started noticing a couple of weeks back, “we can watch it at my place” he adds. Eddie thinks he definitely hasn’t seen him look at anyone else like that.

To shake himself out of the spell of the prettiest boy he’s ever met making the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen at him and ONLY him, Eddie grabs Steve by the wrist and starts marching them towards the supermarket’s front doors.

Without thinking, Eddie says "c'mon man," as they go.

Steve, who started easily following him (like he always does these days), suddenly stops in his tracks. Eddie gets pulled back and almost stumbles on top of Steve. He'd get flustered if Steve wasn't frowning at him like he’d just said the most insulting thing he’d heard this month.

"Don't call me ‘man’" Steve says. Eddie feels his eyebrows raise a bit.

He debates asking why but doesn't question Steve in the end. He’d rather offer understanding than judgement to him any day.

So, Eddie takes advantage of Steve's wrist in his hand, and squeezes there a bit, says "I'm sorry sweetheart" sincerely, looks into Steve's eyes so he can see Eddie means it.

Steve blushes a bit then, not really used to the nickname yet, Eddie just got the balls to start using it last week. Eddie himself is not really used to seeing Steve blush, and at something he says? It’s too much power for one metalhead.

But he gets distracted from Steve’s blush because it happens again, Steve basically preens like a peacock once Eddie switches nicknames. Looks smug, like he has Eddie wrapped around his finger and well, Eddie guesses he does, so, no arguments there either.

He just smiles back at Steve, really, has no other choice, it’s not like he can control how he reacts to the most gorgeous fucking face the universe could ever come up with. But he tugs him along again, Steve happily following this time.

The next time it happens, Steve’s leaning against his kitchen island, with Eddie leaning across from him against the counter.

The party is watching a movie in the Harringtons’ living room and at some point, Eddie got up to get himself another soda, Steve not so subtly followed after him, taking the empty popcorn bowls to the sink. He struck up a conversation and there they stayed.

Eddie’s been turning the small gesture around and around in his head. Clearly Steve’s not shy about seeking him out, and he’s obviously good with the party knowing, which means a hell of a lot because those are Steve’s people, that’s his family.

Eddie’s honestly running out of excuses to not ask him out. Seeing him reaching out to bump his sneaker against Eddie’s boot when he says something funny, laughing just a little too hard at Eddie’s dumb joke; seeing his eyes widen a bit when Eddie compliments him; seeing him notice when Eddie is holding back from talking too much, and not letting it go until he thinks Eddie’s shared all of his opinions on the subject; Eddie thinks maybe he can be brave, when it comes to Steve.

And this week might be the perfect time.

Here they are still, the movie long ended and several easy conversations floating from the living room to the kitchen, where they’re still engrossed on their own.

“I mean I taught the kid how to do his hair for god’s sake!” Steve is saying, Eddie’s laughing easily, and he has a slight suspicion Steve’s acting way more annoyed than he really is because he knows Eddie dies laughing every time Steve roasts the kids.

“Just, if he’s gonna give me hair advice, he should work on that goddamn tone. At the Very Least.” Steve finishes, Eddie giggling all the while at his Annoyed Mom tone.

"Yeah, dude!" Eddie agrees, wanting to egg him on, but Steve's face suddenly falls and whatever remark Eddie had locked and loaded just fades away.

Eddie blinks perplexed; he’s getting déjà vu.

Steve frowns at him, says "Don't call me ‘dude’".

It’s eerie, only he sounds a bit annoyed this time.

Eddie thinks, maybe someone called Steve ‘dude’ before in an unpleasant way, so he doesn't pry. Instead, he takes the chance to call him a nickname he likes more, and says "Sorry, pretty boy", his heart fluttering in the milliseconds he has to wait for Steve’s reaction.

And it happens one last time: Steve absolutely beams at that one, his smile so bright it makes Eddie want to jump in place.

He leans further back on the counter returning the smile, not noticing the common thread in Steve’s reactions to him switching nicknames.

But then the glint in Steve’s eyes suddenly brightens a dim corner of Eddie’s brain. He gets this feeling that reminds him of a perfectly set up riddle or finding that one perfect note for his latest song. It’s like everything suddenly just makes sense.

Eddie feels realization dawn on his face as he pushes himself off the counter to walk right into Steve’s personal bubble, grabs both of Steve's hands.

"Steve" Eddie says, not even caring that he sounds like the name is dripping in honey when it comes out of his mouth. With how sweet Steve is, it might as well be.

Steve just looks at him a little stunned, but doesn't say anything. Eddie draws circles in the back of his palms to reassure him.

"Why don't you want me to call you ‘dude’?" Eddie asks, trying to find out if this whole thing is what he thinks it is.

Steve looks down at their joined hands,.

"You call Nancy that sometimes..." Steve mumbles.

His answer would sound inconsequential to the unsuspecting, certainly would have to Eddie as late as last week, but Eddie thinks he’s finally getting it, and he hums his understanding.

"How ‘bout ‘man’?" he asks

Steve replies "You call Robin that sometimes..." his eyes still on their hands.

Eddie nods his agreement.

"I call everyone those things" he points out.

Steve agrees. "Exactly" he says, finally looking at him again, sounding annoyed and confirming Eddie’s suspicions.

Eddie feels his face split into a smile. He wants to grab Steve’s beautiful freaking face and just plant one on him.

"Can I still call you sweetheart?" he ventures instead. The nickname brings the hint of a smile to Steve's face but then he seems to realize something not so pleasant.

"Do you call someone else ‘sweetheart’?" Steve asks in return.

"No one" Eddie says, shaking his head, his tone vehement.

"Then yes" Steve finally answers. Eddie's heart wants to beat right out of his chest.

He interlocks their fingers to ground himself, Steve looks down at their hands and smiles at the sight.

"So, you don't want me to call you something I call someone else?" Eddie states, more than asks, calling Steve’s eyes back to his again.

"Anyone else" Steve confirms, holding his gaze.

Eddie lets out a small shuddering exhale and feels his heart fluttering in his throat, he really cannot believe this boy.

"Steve" Eddie drawls, dripping in honey again, his hands coming up to cradle Steve's face because he really can't resist anymore "Sweetheart" he says.

Steve's eyes grow a little wide and he starts blushing so much that Eddie can feel it in his palms.

"Steevieeee" Eddie sinsongs, squeezing Steve's face a bit "Pretty boy" Eddie calls him. Steve just keeps looking at him and a small smile blooms in his pretty, pretty face.

"Would you let me take you out to dinner this Friday?" Eddie finally asks him, his fingers curling to the back of Steve's head to play with his hair there. Steve's eyes get even wider.

" 's Valentine's this Friday" he points out. Eddie knows.

"Mmhm. Want you to be my Valentine." Eddie tells him, tugs his hair gently, "How's that sound?" he asks, bold in a way he never has been before. Steve blushing does things to him.

"Sounds nice" Steve answers. He smiles and nods while his hands hook on Eddie's belt loops.

"Then it's a date?" Eddie asks, trying not to sound too eager. He thinks he fails spectacularly but Steve beams and pulls him in to kiss his cheek.

"It's a date" Steve tells him, his breath ghosting on Eddie's cheek and making him shiver.

Steve pulls back, lets go of Eddie’s belt loops and tugs on a strand of his hair gently, smiling like the cat that got the cream as he walks back out into the living room.

Eddie’s gonna make this the best Valentine’s Day date Steve has ever been on.

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the-holy-ghosted · 7 months

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congrats 2 henry peglar for being the only bitch confirmed as to be Fucking That Old Man

#the heron giveth #the terror #alright here come the funny tags #bridglar #briglar #people spell it both ways i think. ill do both hujst to be safe #henry peglar #john bridgens #uh um um. uh #peglar x bridgens #THIS FEELS WEIRD. TO TYPE #bridgens x peglar #alright im done good GRIEF #this isnt even that extreme compared to the shit people are putting on ao3 about these two. god.#anyways hi ive watched this show maybe 7 or 8 times? only just recently have i gotten hooked on them #the scripts make me go nuts too. ''they were lovers in their pasts'' shut the fuck up dont say that to me ill start crying #this is the most risque thing i have ever posted on here #getting out of the fandom game for a while rewired my brain i have to get weird again. and boy do they make me feel weird !#i have a number of terror mutuals who r gonna go nuts over this. fuck yes a little bowl of seeds for me style #this looks blurry posting it hopefully tumblr doesnt crunch the shit out of the quality anyways im done typing goodbye

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thesunisatangerine · 7 months

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against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part two

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: implied sexual content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 2.5k

You weren’t sure what woke you at first but when you opened your eyes, you found the brilliant, early morning light that streamed through a crack in the curtains. Groaning, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, not missing the unmistakable rustling of clothes somewhere at the foot of the bed.

Peeking over the sheets to the source of the sound, you found Ale working to put her pants back on, her bare back to you. You propped yourself against the headboard as you watched on, biting your lip at how Ale’s tattoos deliciously shifted over her rippling muscles. She picked something up from the floor before she turned towards the bed and you caught sight of the darkening marks on her neck and chest. When she saw you looking at her, she smiled, a little bashful, which you returned in kind.

“What time is it?” You cringed at how you croaked out the words.

“Early. You should go back to sleep.” Ale said, putting her bra on as she kept your gaze.

You hummed. “I could say the same for you.”

Ignoring what she said you sat up on the bed, allowing the sheets to slide down and settle by your waist as you stretched. Ale’s eyes wandered to your chest which, you supposed, bore the same marks you could see on hers, and you relished the attention. Once she found your eyes again, you sent her a knowing smirk before you left the bed, headed to the closet where you grabbed the nearest fresh shirt you had, and tossed it to Ale.

Without even looking at the shirt, she caught it with ease. You raised your brow, both in question and in wonder. In response, Ale just smiled innocently at you. Ale pulled the shirt over her head, hiding the marks from view, then she moved towards you, her eyes dark and shining with intent.

Your body remembered last night’s endeavours before you did: every nerve in your skin lit up in anticipation for Ale’s touch, a fuse waiting for a spark. She laced an arm around your waist and pulled you flush to her front with a strength that left you breathless, her clothed body firm against your bare flesh. Without your heels she almost towered over you that you had to stand on your toes to wrap your arms around her neck. You closed your eyes when you felt the words she spoke against your temple.

“As much as I’d love to stay, I have to go.”

You sighed, unable to hide your disappointment. But what did you expect? You knew what you were getting into last night–you knew this was meant to only be a one-time thing. Besides, you were never one for relationships anyway; all your dalliances were brief and fleeting, ending before they ever got serious. Still, something about Ale pulled you to her, a force that compelled a desire to get to know her. The logical part of you already accepted the fact that you’d probably never see her again after this, but a small part of you wanted to rebel and resist that fate.

Unsurprisingly, logic won out.

“I shouldn’t keep you, then,” you whispered against her collarbone. Ale shivered and that made you smile: it’s good to know you weren’t the only one still feeling the effects from the previous night.

“You’re not making this easy,” she whined and you laughed.

“Alright, alright. I guess it’s time for me to let you go.”

There was a moment of silence but not an uncomfortable one. You looked at her, soaked in how her features caught the morning light, how her fair hazel eyes almost appeared like twin golden suns. You were tempted to kiss her lips then but you settled for a chaste one on her cheek instead. “Keep the shirt, to remember me by and… a thank you for last night. It was wonderful.”

“I had a good time, too,” she hummed, a small smile on her lips.

You returned her smile, and then you gently pushed her away as you took a step back. “Go, Ale.”

Ale stood there for a moment more, took one last look at you, gave you one last smile and she was out of the bedroom. When you heard the front door shut, you sighed again as something akin to regret settled in your bones. Maybe you should’ve at least asked for her number…

“So… did you have fun?” A deep voice filtered through the speaker before you saw the familiar mop of blonde hair and blue eyes on your screen. You rolled your eyes at his dry tone but you smiled nonetheless.

“Oh hi, Derek, I’m doing fine! Thank you for asking!”

Derek gave you an unimpressed look. “Come on. I need details cause that club was exclusive for a reason. So, did you hook up with someone?”

“Dude, stop! That’s so–” you shook your head, a palm over your face. You swore if he wasn’t family you would’ve… you breathed through your nose. “Thank you for the pass and everything but I’m not obligated to tell you shit.”

“Fine, I see how it is. Just ‘cause I’m not there you’re keeping secrets from me now, huh?” He raised an exaggerated eyebrow.

“Then maybe you should’ve come here with me,” you retorted with faux annoyance. “What’s the point of you owning a house in Barcelona if you’re not going to use it? It’s literally rotting here! The fact that you haven’t even put any personal things in here is criminal!”

“And let this agency burn down to the ground while both of us are away? Pfft, yeah, right!” Derek scoffed. “You know it’s either you or me who can keep watch around here. Besides, the house can wait and you’re using it now, right? So, a win-win in my book.”

He was right but you weren’t about to tell him that so you opted to change the topic. “How are things on your end anyway?”

“Chaotic, as usual. And it doesn’t help we’re now down two–actually, three including you–of our best in the Spot News department.”

At that, you sat up from the couch, alarm and dread filled your body and you brought the phone closer to you. “Oh my god, did something happen?”

Derek sighed heavily, his demeanour clouded over as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was Jones and Gilda–they’re stable, don’t worry!–they got caught in a flash flood on the way to the base at their area. Sick with some minor injuries, Jones more so than Gilda, but thankfully they’re both okay.”

At that, you breathed out in relief. You were well acquainted with the dangers that came with your job but you could never get used to how quickly a situation could get from bad to worse. The mere thought was enough to turn your hands cold.

“When did this happen?”

“Early morning today in our timezone.”

“Oh, fuck. Derek, why didn’t you call me?!”

“Dude, you’re on leave. And it’s not that I didn’t want to let you know, I just wasn’t about to wake you up in the middle of the night to give you this headache. I’m just about done with the paperworks anyway.” A moment silence, then Derek sighed. “You really chose the worst time to go on leave. You know, I had to send Jersey to start covering Spot.”

“Not my fault you authorised it. I was happy to wait another month, remember? Wait, so if Jersey is doing Spot, who’s doing Sports?”

“I know, I know, don’t remind me ‘cause I’m already regretting it. And no one’s doing it. Spot coverage is more important but–”

“–we get a decent sum from Sports, too,” you finished for him. You did some quick estimation in your head: a month or two without Sports could prove costly, too great of a sum to let go. You hummed, rubbing your chin, but it didn’t take you long to realise that you could help out, your mind immediately fleeted to your conversation with Ale and her suggestion.

“I’ll cover it, Derek.”

“No. You’re supposed to be enjoying your leave–”

“Derek.” You fixed a stern gaze at him, the one you knew that he knew meant your mind was made up. Then you proceeded to reassure him that it was fine, and then you told him about your plan. “Alright, then, I’ll leave the press passes to you.”

“I’ll e-mail them to you once I get ‘em, most likely by tonight your time. I–”

“Derek, you got to see–” Another voice filtered through the speaker while you watched as Derek turned his head to the side and held his hand up to whoever it was before returning his focus back to you.

“Okay, as much as I’d love to keep talking to you, Robert just brought me a huge stack of paper so I’m going to bail.”

“Alright. Have fun, you. Talk to you later.”

“Ha ha, very funny. But seriously, thank you.”

“No worries. Kiss Mom for me when you see her.”

“I will. Love you, sis.”

“I love you, too.”

After calling Jones and Gilda to ask about their condition and to send them your well wishes, you decided to spend the rest of your day at the nearby square and the beach. A day as good as this wasn’t meant to be wasted by staying inside so you grabbed several rolls of film and your beloved Leica camera before heading out.

It was already late afternoon when you found yourself trudging along the shoreline of one of Barcelona’s beaches, appreciating the orange-tinged skies and how the gulls called from above. When you looked to the horizon, you found a mother and her little daughter paddle-boarding just a hundred meters from the shore. You could see almost no details in the shadows of their silhouette but the large setting sun framed them in such a way that you felt to take a shot of the moment. So you adjusted your aperture accordingly, pressed the viewfinder against your brow, lined up your shot, and pressed the shutter.

“I thought you looked familiar… And I was right.”

Your thumb froze over the advance lever when you heard someone speak from somewhere behind you. That voice… could it be?

You whipped your head over your shoulder and found none other than Ale standing there. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts, a white opened blouse that put her toned abs and Nike sports bra on display, loose hair slightly damp, with a leash in one hand that lead to a small, fluffy dog. She also had on a pair of black wraparound sunglasses that she moved to the top of her head, revealing her hazel eyes that captivated your gaze immediately.

You could hardly believe your eyes and your luck; you already accepted her fleeting presence in your life but to meet her again in a city as big as Barcelona without any means of contact… that surely was nothing short of a miracle.

“Ale, hi! I–I never thought I’d see you again,” you said after you finally found your voice but as soon as the words left your mouth, your cheeks warmed. What were you supposed to say to a one night stand in this situation, especially when you clearly wanted it to happen again?

“Me neither. I should thank Nala for dragging me out here.” Ale grinned as she glanced down at her dog by her feet. You crooned as you bent down, then you offered your hand first and only after Nala licked your knuckles did you proceed to pet her.

“Thank you, Nala, for taking your owner for a walk.” At that, a hearty laugh came from Ale which caused Nala, who seemed to be overjoyed by the sound of her owner’s delight, to yip and wag her tail. And just as quickly as she had, she seemed to get bored and began to bound forward, urging Ale to move as well so you stood up, brushed the sand from your palms, and fell in step with her.

For a moment, the space between you was filled by the sound of the waves, the sound of the shifting sand beneath your feet, and the ever-bustling noise from the city. Then you recalled your conversation with Derek this morning.

“I thought about what you said, about covering women’s football. I’m going to be given a press pass for a match, not sure which one they’ll give me, though. But do you know of any big matches coming up?”

“Really? That’s great! Do you have any particular team in mind or…?”

“Research is still on my to-do list so no, not really. I’m all ears for suggestions, though.”

“I see. Well, there is this match coming up: Real Madrid and Barcelona. Since you don’t know, there’s rivalry between the two teams so any match between them tends to get crowded. You should come watch.”

“That sounds like a good one. I hope that’s what they’ll get me into. Will you be there?”

“I hope so, too. And yes, I’ll be there.” As she said this, her eyes shone with a glint not dissimilar to what you saw in them the night you met. Her lips tilted to the side, closed but quirked at the corners like she was holding in a laugh. If it weren’t already clear that night, it was now–you were definitely missing something here.

“What?” You asked, confused. What was she not telling you? But at the question, Ale only let out a small giggle, grinning as she did so.

“Nothing, nothing,” she said, shaking her head. You didn’t believe her but you let it slide one more time and the fact that she looked so distracting didn’t help either.

She had her head turned to you, her loose hair framed her face and strands fluttered in the cool, ocean breeze. You had to tilt your head up slightly to meet her eyes and, without any bidding, memories from that night and the morning after filtered through your mind: the way she held you against her, the way you wanted her to stay… maybe you should ask her if she was free tonight.

“–what do you have in mind?”

You blinked. “What?”

Ale threw her head back, letting out another hearty laugh before she looked at you and you saw amusement swimming in her eyes. Then, she continued with a smirk, “you asked if I was free tonight. I said yes. Or… was I not meant to hear that?”

Your ears and cheeks burnt while you internally cursed your slippery tongue. That was smooth. Real smooth. “Ummm…”

You woke the next morning with a delicious soreness between your thighs, a pleasant reminder of the way Ale ravished you last night. Similar to the first morning after, you heard the rustling of clothes being put on. But before you could fully open your eyes, warmth from Ale’s lips branded the skin on your shoulder.

“I have to go. See you next time?” Ale murmured softly. You shifted slightly to the side and you saw how the sunlight behind her gilded her hair with an amber halo and made her eyes appear like molten gold.

Brushing a loose strand behind her ear, you hummed in confirmation and pressed your forehead sleepily against the sharp line of her jaw, closing your eyes as you did so and you whispered, “you know where to find me.”

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n: introduced some fictional characters here for plot purposes and there'll be more later on (i hope that wont put off some people)#i tried not to info-dump but not really sure if i succeeded lol #also i find it difficult to write smut and its even harder without talking about feelings so nothing yet folks im so sorry #and idk when the next part will come out cause its one of the parts that arent fleshed out but ill try to finish it by next week #just a reminder: im tweaking minor details as i go so the most accurate copy of all the parts will be on my ao3 (@thesunisatangerine)#apologies for any grammar and spelling mistakes ill work on em later #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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birdricks · 5 months

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i love the stars (j'adore les etoiles)

#rick and morty #birdrick #birdperson #rick sanchez #artsbotz #I DID IT I DREW THEM YAYYYYYYYY <- normal #idk if im totallyyyy happy w the colours etc but watever im not spending any longer on it. lol #LOL sorry if this kinda doesnt make any sense. its a result of my enorrmmouss brain #i usually think abt rick more when it comes to birdrick simply bc. hes more fleshed out #butttt ive been rhinking abt bp a bit recently.#i rlly strongly associate bps feelings towards rick w stars. bcccc of a bunch of stuff #that one quote ->#how often do you suppose you might look up at the stars. and wonder what might have been had you just put your faith in rick.#anddd a couple songs. this one which is i love the stars by the orion experience #and more loosely starstruck by ummm #by sorry.#ANDDDDD the beacon. on ao3 #i beleive by abed with a knife. really super good makes me pass out #umm ok i actually dont have more to say. my brain is fried #guys. dont forget to set like hourly timers when u draw. to like remind u to drink and stretch. and blink #dont be like me.

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aroaceleovaldez · 3 months

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reminder/tip, particularly for newer pjo fans: do not crosstag!

for those who don't know, crosstagging is tagging irrelevant tags on a post, usually popular tags to try and get more views on the post.

Tumblr doesn't work the same way instagram or tiktok or twitter does. Crosstagging is considered spam, and your blog will be flagged if you do this.

particularly in pjo fandom, crosstagging includes tagging characters that don't actually appear in the post, tagging books or series unrelated to the post (like tagging "TSATS" on a post not specifically about TSATS, or tagging HoO on a post about first series specifically, etc.), tagging "pjo fanfic" or "pjo headcanon" or similar on a post that, obviously, isn't that, and/or tagging irrelevant ships. More recently, this also includes tagging the show (PJO TV, etc) on posts that are completely irrelevant to the show.

This mostly only applies for original posts - Tags you put on reblogs only apply to your own blog's organizational system, and has no bearing on the original post itself. But it's really annoying to the original poster if you spam tags, because it will appear in their notifs. It's pointless to spam tags in reblogs for these reasons regardless, so it's best not to.

just remember: crosstagging is not allowed on tumblr, doesn't work that way here anyways, and is just generally rude. so don't do it.

#pjo #riordanverse #percy jackson #< pretty much the only character tag that's okay to put on most pjo posts #because it's also the series name #though personally for this blog i just use ''riordanverse'' and ''pjo'' and my general main tags #also. don't. crosstag on ao3. ao3 doesnt have an algorithm or anything. it's an *archive.*#crosstagging/tagging just for visibility is against ao3 policies and pointless to begin with #and please do not censor tags on ao3 or tumblr. particularly content warnings #there is no shadowban system on either platform. all it does is make it harder for people who actually need those warnings #and are trying to not see them. because they will not have blocked the exact censoring of that phrase you decided to use

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poorslaindoll · 26 days

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Homestuck Epilogue where on Earth C the kids do literally ANYTHING other than get into politics or become hermits… Part 1

So I kinda made up my own epilogue for homestuck back when I was in college… Just a thing to kinda entertain myself while sitting through the classes that didn’t apply to my major lmao. But now I’ve been out two years and what’s an unemployed 24 year old loser supposed to do with all this free time and a newfound affection for these characters? Fuckin draw them ofc! I tried rlly hard to kinda combine elements of the mspa style into my own style, but it clearly needs some work.

Basically the plot of my epilogue au/rewrite/whatever the fuck you call it is that for the first like 100 years of them being on Earth C, the kids wanted to figure themselves out and live their lives now that they were free from the game and in a world where nothing can really hold them back. Since a lot of them lived their early years in almost to complete isolation, they pretty much wanted to be involved in their new society. Tho since society had already p much developed since they skipped ahead 5000 years, they just let the people do their thing while they did their own things. The kids only rlly got involved if they rlly had to.

But then after about 100 years of doing things, all the kids just kinda went MIA and nobody knows what they’re up to. Sure Rose and Kanaya still manage the mother grub, Jane still runs her company, and sometimes you might see Dirk out behind an Earth C Denny’s at 3am, but for the most part everyone is kinda gone. Where? Only I know :)

Anyway I’m gonna do a part 2 with the surviving trolls and Calliope… eventually…

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shootingstarpilot · 7 months

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I see a lot of posts expressing frustration with the fanon idea that certain highly competent characters (yes, this post is about Obi-Wan, but I've seen others) can't take care of themselves and need others to bully them into eating, sleeping, etc.. While I totally get that frustration, I personally very much enjoy that trope. I've been trying to dissect why I enjoyed it since I saw those critiques, and I think I finally managed to put it to words.

(Disclaimer: I live in the United States, so my discussion about healthcare is operating in the framework of the man-eating trash fire that is the American healthcare system.)

I am a busy person outside of fandom. I recently completed a cross-country move. I'm damn good at my job and I love what I do, but it's hard work and a lot of it is on call. I have bills to pay. I have paperwork to fill out. I have messages to send and more messages to reply to. I have a life that is full of things I don't want to do. We all do. It's part of existing in society.

I am also chronically ill.

We live in a system that is actively hostile to putting your own health first. The healthcare system is impossible to navigate even if you are feeling the very pinnacle of health and wellbeing, and good fucking luck trying to do so when you're sick. Good luck trying to go to work and pay your bills and fill your tank. Good luck trying to do your paperwork and cook your meals and clean your apartment. Good luck trying to muster up the energy to respond to the well-meaning communications of friends and family.

But here's the thing- you still have to.

The rest of the world doesn't stop when you're sick. The rest of your life doesn't pause when you need it to. Sometimes you have to sacrifice sleep to make it to a doctor's appointment, or skip breakfast to make it to work on time. Every one of us, to some extent or another, has had to sacrifice what would be best for our health in order to stay functional in this fucked-up, capitalistic, carnivorous society.

So I think my preference for reading and writing fics like the ones I mentioned at the beginning has a certain level of wish fulfillment to it. Someone who is competent and good at their job and has an extraordinary level of responsibility on their shoulders sacrifices their own well-being to keep the rest of the world going-

And someone else makes sure they eat. Someone else makes sure their health gets tended to. Someone else makes sure they sleep, and that the world doesn't fall apart while they do so.

A lot of times, we don't get to make those decisions, or we feel guilty when we do. In reading fics like these, I feel like I get to outsource those decisions- outsourcing self-care, if you will. You don't have to feel guilty about putting your own health first, because you're not making the choice to do so. Someone else is.

It's okay. Get some rest.

#my life is also full of things and people that i love don't worry #it's just interesting to think about this sort of wish fulfillment #if anyone else wants to contribute thoughts please do #i'm sure someone more eloquent than me could put this better #outsourcing self-care #fandom #obi-wan kenobi #ao3 #fanfiction

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mariposiel · 1 year

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Some doodles I’ve been working on for the past few weeks!

Reference for the meme^^

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jay-wasreblogging · 1 month

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Fanfic authors be like

#this decision has changed the very foundation. stability and course of numerous fandoms #yes. this is about johnlock.#some of you johnlock authors are too comfortable putting out heart gripping. life changing. SOUL CLEANSING work and then just... moving on?#like come back and pick me up 😩 i be so emotional when a S-TIER fic i read ends like please erase my memory so i can experience it again!#ao3 #archive of our own #fanfic #fanfictions #fanfics #fanfiction #writers #authors #fanfic authors #fan fic #sherlock & co #sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #johnlock

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johnnystorms · 3 months

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When Peter was seven, Mrs Kanowski wrote in his report card that he always has something to say. Uncle Ben had found it quite funny. Aunt May had elbowed him in the side and murmured something about it not being a compliment, a word Peter didn’t quite grasp until a year later, when Gwen Stacy socked him in the shoulder then said, “I like your socks.” (They were covered in crossed swords and skulls wearing pirate hats, much to Aunt May’s dismay. Harry thought they were cool, though, and so did Peter, kind of, and now so did Gwen. So there.) “Thanks,” Peter had said, and that had been that. Not his first friend, but one of them.

He doesn’t know why he thinks about that now.

They’re on the roof of the Baxter Building. The sun is setting, spilling red and pink and orange all over Johnny, over his golden hair, the planes of his face, the brightness of his grin. The grin in question: the remnants of laughter, left over from Peter telling him about the time Harry keyed his dad’s car in a fit of six-year-old pique and Peter had tried to take the blame, only for Norman to dismiss the attempt with a brisk you’d have chosen more sensible places to do it, which had made Johnny absolutely howl with laughter.

“Really, Pete,” he says, still grinning, “what kind of six year old gets told they’d commit vandalism sensibly?” He snorts, shaking his head, looking out over the city.

Mrs Kanowski was wrong, it seems. Peter is tongue-tied, watching Johnny’s eyes crinkle in the corners, the slope of his nose as he looks out over towards the Chrysler Building. It swells in him, the way Johnny looks right now, the way he feels, loose-limbed and relaxed and happy. Peter likes Johnny a lot of ways, but this is maybe his favourite, when it’s just the two of them, and Johnny has that smile that looks like it put the stars in the sky, instead of the one he flashes at people in corridors, at the press when they get in too close, at ex-girlfriends and maybe-boyfriends – everyone who wants a piece of him.

It’s a nice smile, don’t get him wrong. Peter is mostly immune to Johnny’s charms, but that one still makes his chest feel a little warmer. It’s just got nothing on Johnny when he’s like this, bright and open and beautiful.

“I wonder what you’d have been like if you’d known me back then,” Johnny says, still not looking at Peter. His voice has gone thoughtful, smile fading until all that’s left is a soft tilt to his lips. “What I’d have been like.” He’s quiet for a second, and then: “I’m a little jealous, you know.”

Peter can’t work the words out of his mouth. His tongue feels too thick. Still, there must be something questioning enough in his gaze when Johnny glances back at him that it gets conveyed, because Johnny blinks, then smiles ruefully.

“That they knew you back then – Harry and Gwen and even Mary Jane, though I know she was a little later. They all got to know you so early… It kinda feels like I was missing out.” The way he says kinda is like an inside joke, the type where you’re the only one in on it, where you’re laughing at yourself. Peter’s heart aches.

Johnny’s smile goes crooked as he looks back at Peter again. “You’re my first real friend, Peter. You know that, right?”

And, like, maybe. Maybe Peter knew that, logically, if he ever really thought about it, but he didn’t – he doesn’t – because Johnny is bright and handsome and funny, charming and charismatic and wildly popular even though he has enough personality defects to fill a dictionary. Everyone likes Johnny, even some of his exes, and the ones who don’t usually have a grudge to pick with his brother-in-law, or they think Johnny is just like any vapid, handsome, rich, famous type. And it’s not that he’s not, but he’s also so much more than that. Sometimes Johnny is so much that Peter doesn’t have words to contain it.

But that’s a lonely thing too.

So maybe Peter knew, on some level, that this is what he is to Johnny, this is the space he occupies. But he’s never really thought it consciously, never really framed it that way, and certainly never heard it out loud before.

He swallows. Hard.

Johnny just blinks again, then grins. It’s not that crooked one, small and quiet and delicate enough to make Peter wish he could fit it in his pocket. It’s a sudden blitz against the sky, against Peter’s fucking mental stability, because it is so gorgeous that it is utterly devastating. Peter is devastated and Johnny is beautiful. Status quo.

Mrs Kanowski was definitely wrong, Peter thinks, as he slides a little closer to Johnny, nestles up against him so that their thighs are pressed close and their shoulders are knocking together. Because when Johnny looks at him like that, he can’t think of a single thing to say.

#johnny storm #peter parker #spideytorch #vaguely high school au? written for the prompt ‘firsts’#not… that i can tell anymore why i wrote this for ‘firsts’ lmao #this isn’t new in that i wrote it for twt 1.5yrs ago #but i literally forgot abt it until searching smth on my twt just now #jane writes sometimes #meet me at the usual place #also sorry for the awol work has been Whew but i will be putting the avengers twilight one on ao3 later

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stars-and-birds · 1 year

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Happy new year guys have a self indulgent wenclair fic i wrote instead of sleeping :D

“Tonight’s the night.” Enid declared, slamming down her red plastic cup next to the table where Yoko sat, some odd mixture of orange juice and vodka sloshing at the impact. Yoko looked up, flashing lights dancing across her pale face and dark eyes.

“Tonight’s the night… you what?” She asked, twisting around in her chair to face a confident and possibly slightly drunk Enid.

“The night I tell her. Wednesday” She replied breezily, plopping down into the chair next to Yoko. It was New Year’s eve, and Xavier Thorpe was throwing a huge party at his house. Well, ‘house’ was a stretch. More like a mansion. Enid had gotten lost at least five times (and stumbled upon three couples making out) on her way to the main room, where a disco ball flashed almost as loudly as the blasting music. Alcohol and drunk teenagers splashed across the room, dancing and cheering. Half of Nevermore had to be there.

“I’ll take her aside and confess. I’m telling her I like her.” Enid said confidently. She’d played the scenario over and over in her head, she wouldn’t be surprised if it had seared itself onto her brain. For months now she’d been worrying, trying to find some way to tell Wednesday she had feelings for her. Two very different possibilities played like a broken record in her brain, looping over and over. Number one, Wednesday harshly rejects her with a cold glare and their friendship breaks apart, Enid moves in with Yoko, and they never talk to or see each other ever again. This was bad. Worst case scenario. Scenario two, and the unfortunately less likely one, however… included holding hands, dates, kisses…

“Earth to Enid. Testing testing one two three.” Yoko said, snapping Enid out of a daydream that had spread a huge smile on her face.

“What?”

“Can I tell you what I think will happen?” Yoko asked, snatching up Enid’s drink like a cat and taking a sip.

“What?” Enid said again, somewhat irritated.

“You’ll work up some nerve and then chicken out like a little bitch. Like at the Christmas party. Or the Halloween one. Or even— ”

“Yeah okay I get it.” Enid interrupted. “But this time will be different! New year, new me.”

“Technically it’s not the new year yet.” Yoko pointed out as her girlfriend, Divina, stumbled up and sat next to Yoko too, leaning her head on her shoulder. Enid rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. Oh, there she is!” She said excitedly, spotting Wednesday’s goth aesthetic sticking out like a sore thumb. Her signature braids hung behind her head, nearly blending into her midnight black dress that spilled over her shoulders like a waterfall. The light caught her face for a second, flashing her black eyes so bright Enid could see it from across the room. Enid’s heart beat a little faster.

I’msogayi’msogayi’msogay

Enid took a deep breath, smoothing the colorful jumpsuit that she had slipped into for the night.

“WEDNESDAY HI!!!!” Enid yelled, making her way through the crowd and raising her voice over the music rattling her feet. Wednesday turned to face her, her face softening a little at the sight of Enid wiggling her way through the horde of sweat and vodka breath.

“OMG you look great!” Enid squealed, clasping her hands together as she finally reached Wednesday and Thing, perched like a bird on her shoulder, signing hello at Enid.

“You look…” Wednesday glanced Enid up and down like a cat stalking her prey, silently judging. “Revolting.”

“Thanks… I guess.” Enid gulped a little, a lump of nerves sliding down her throat.

Okay Sinclair. Stay cool. Just act normal.

“SO! Wednesday, I wanted to talk to you.” Wednesday’s eyebrows creeped up her forehead.

“You are.” She deadpanned.

“I know! I know, I just… about something specific.”

A beat.

“About…”

“YEah! About… um…” God, why was this so hard? Just get it out there.

“Do you… I… um. Do you want a drink?” She blurted out. Ugh. Nice going Sinclair.

Wednesday’s eyebrows raised a little higher. “I suppose.” She conceded.

“Great! I’ll go get you one.” Enid scrambled off into the crowd. Ugh. Of course Yoko was right, of course her nerves had overpowered her and she’d chickened out. No. It wasn’t too late. She’d get the drinks, come back, confess… and no matter what happened, hope it would quel the raging storm that thundered in her chest whenever Wednesday looked at her. It was a storm, yes. But it was also a flower that had slowly grown, unknown to Enid at first. A flower that glowed when Wednesday complimented her, that bloomed when they touched. A flower that Enid had unknowingly nurtured until she’d found herself with a flower bigger than she’d ever imagined. She reached the refreshments table, grabbing two plastic cups and scooping some punch in, contemplating the situation. Of fucking course she had to fall in love with Wednesday fucking Addams of all people. Wednesday with her deadpan drawl, cold glares, beautiful eyes… Something sticky and wet hit her hand, and she looked down to see that she’d overfilled the cup she was holding. Ugh.

Five minutes later she’d successfully partly cleaned up the mess, and was making her way through the crowd again, this time precariously balancing two glasses of punch. Okay. Okay. Okay okay okay okay. She got this. She’d walk up to Wednesday, tell her she liked her and then… heartbreak or kisses. Probably heartbreak, she thought bitterly.

“Okay Wednesday,” Here we go. “I got your drink, I…” she trailed off. Her heart plummeted into her stomach. There, right where she had left her, Wednesday stood in front of Xavier. The boy was holding roses. Black roses. Black roses that Wednesday’s hands were closed around, hands that dropped to Wednesday’s side at the sight of Enid standing there.

Oh.

The punch cups clattered to the floor, but all noise was muted in Enid’s ears.

Something new bloomed in Enid’s chest. Not bloomed. Withered. Withered and stung, dead branches prickling her heart, closing in and suffocating it. The feeling slowly creeped up her chest, closing up her throat, thorns stinging her eyes. Tears, hot and wet and gross and—

“Enid.” Wednesday’s voice. Her voice, which had soothed Enid’s nightmares and comforted her through her pain. Her voice that cut through Enid’s thoughts, that shocked her out of her trance.

“I… I'm sorry. Sorry. I… I have to go, I—” Enid’s words tripped and stumbled over themselves, not quite finding footing and forming complete sentences. It didn’t matter, as something else drove Enid’s legs away. Away from the shocked boy with the roses and the stunned girl who had stolen her heart. Away, away, away. Away down the confusing endless halls, which seemed to close in on her every second. Away and into the nearest door, away and stumbling into the closet and bumping into the brooms and mops and falling to the floor, sobbing. Tears soaked her thoughts, blurred common sense. Why was she crying? It’s not as if… it’s not as if she ever expected to get together with Wednesday. She didn’t expect a fairy tale ending, so why did it feel like she’d been cheated out of it? Had she read too far into the brushes of hands and passing glances that she’d feebly convinced herself she didn’t think meant anything more? Her heart felt like it’d been ripped out of her chest, tossed aside carelessly. Why did it feel like she’d handed Wednesday her heart, fragile and on edge from all the times it had been broken and dropped. Why did it feel like Wednesday had taken it from her and set it aside, doomed to inevitably fall again. Why did it feel so wrong?

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, just her and her broken heart. Stupid stupid stupid. Her mom’s voice stained her thoughts. She had no reason to be upset. She was overreacting, being overdramatic. Afterall, Wednesday didn’t know about Enid’s feelings for her. It wasn’t fair to Wednesday. And maybe, Wednesday did know and just… hadn’t cared. Decided Enid wasn’t good enough. It wouldn't be the first time Wednesday had tossed aside someone’s feelings for her own benefit. It wouldn’t be the first time Enid was abandoned for being not good enough. A shadow from behind the door tore away the flashing lights that had crept through, cracking open the door slowly. Enid kept her head in her arms, sniffling. The shadow —whoever it was — carefully set itself down next to Enid, brushing against her in the small closet.

“Enid.” Enid would recognize that voice anywhere. Even through her usual bored tone, Wednesday still managed to sound… caring.

“Enid, I need you to talk to me.” A pause, a mini void filled only by more sniffling from Enid.

“Why are you upset?” Her voice wasn’t demanding or accusing. Only curious. Like her voice that first night on the roof, when she had asked why Enid was crying. She’d said because she was upset. Maybe Wednesday understood that now, that crying meant that Enid wasn’t okay, that she needed comfort. Enid let the silence hang for a few more moments, trying to collect her stray thoughts and fish out an excuse.

“I… just. Sorry. Must’ve had too much to drink, haha.” Enid hated the way her voice sounded, weak and scrawny like a newborn chick.

“I can’t help if you’re lying to me.” Wednesday stated so matter-of-factly, turning to face Enid. Her eyes were so beautiful, a betraying part of her brain couldn’t help notice.“Is this about Xavier?” She continued. “Do you… like him?” Her eyes were like milky black pearls. Or a void staring endlessly back at Enid… wait. Wait what.

“What? No!” Enid wrinkled her nose. Even the thought of getting together with that… emo wannabe made her want to gag.

“Then what’s wrong?” Enid looked away again, resting her head in her arms.

Click

She looked up, startled. The closet door had slammed shut, and she scrambled to her feet, jiggling the door handle. It was locked. Wednesday had stood up too, pushing Enid aside to try it herself.

“Thing, if you do not open this door I will flay you alive.” She said, tone so sharp you could use it to slit someone's throat. No sound from the other side of the door, save for the soft clicks of manicured fingers padding off.

“Thing!” Wednesday growled. Enid shoved her back aside, trying to channel some werewolf strength to open up the door. Wednesday pushed her back, and soon they were shoving each other back and forth in the tiny closet.

“Enid, stop moving.”

“Give me some space!”

“Stop moving!”

Enid froze, eyes barely registering anything in the total darkness. A moment later, a light clicked on. Wednesday had found a lightbulb, and the cord to turn it on along with it. Speaking of Wednesday… after a moment of adjusting to the light Enid noticed.. They were very close. A tangle of limbs, they’d somehow ended up eye-to-eye, barely a foot between their faces.

Oh god

Enid could feel herself turning red, her cheeks flushing as Wednesday mumbled something about Thing never seeing the light of day again. She looked… really hot. Which was a very weird thing to think about the sweaty girl with a death glare you were trapped in a closet with, so she was going to stop thinking about it along with the ever growing urge to kiss Wednesday Friday Addams.

“I was jealous!” Enid blurted out. She wasn’t sure where it came from. Maybe she was tired of hiding it. Wednesday was looking at her, dumbfounded.

“…What?”

“I was jealous.” Enid continued, squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to see the disgust that would inevitably flush the other girl’s face. “I was jealous of Xavier. Because I know he likes you and you like him and I…” She trailed off, bowing her head as more tears stung her eyes. “And I like you.” The words hung heavy in the air, a long held secret finally released.

“You like me?” Wednesday’s voice was a whisper, a ghost. But Enid heard it. Liked her? She more than liked her, really.

“I—”

“TEN!”

Enid was cut off by a chorus of voices from outside the closet. She pulled up her apple watch. 11:59. The countdown to new years had begun.

“NINE!”

“Enid, listen.” Wednesday's voice rang out urgent and clear.

“EIGHT!”

“It’s okay, I get it. You don’t like me back.” It was hard to keep the spite from creeping into her voice.

“SEVEN!”

“No, I… I don’t like Xavier. We’re not a thing. I rejected him”

“SIX!”

For a moment, Enid’s voice was stolen from her.

Wednesday didn’t like Xavier.

“FIVE!”

“But… I don’t understand. The flowers…” Something cold creeped up Enid’s face. Wednesday. Wednesday’s hands cupped her cheeks.

“FOUR!”

The space between them had gotten smaller, the air a kind of heavy that made Enid’s chest seize up around her heart and catch her breath.

“THREE!”

“I don’t like Xavier. I like you.” Wednesday said softly, so close that Enid could feel her warm breath mingling with Enid’s own.

“TWO!”

“Me? But… I don’t understand.” Enid’s voice was shaky, trembling. A million things were going on within her, panicked screams and breathless gasps. She was pretty sure she was having a heart attack.

“Then let me help you understand,” Wednesday replied, the determination in her voice reflected in her eyes.

“ONE!”

Faster than Enid could prepare or process, Wednesday kissed her. On the lips. And after an incredible moment that lasted for an infinity, that she would carry with her for the rest of her life, Enid kissed back. She couldn’t see the fireworks outside, but she had a pretty good idea from inside the closet. The boom was her heartbeat, so quick and so loud. The heat was Wednesday’s lips against hers, warm and welcoming. The lights… the lights were the faint blush that graced Wednesday’s black and white cheeks, the shine in her eyes when they opened as they broke apart. Wednesday's hands were a chilly vine, receding from Enid’s hair, tracing her chin.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The crowd from outside screamed, laughing and talking before breaking into a chorus. Wednesday’s eyes never left Enid, her brow furrowing.

“You taste like alcohol.”

Enid couldn’t help it. The flower in her chest had bloomed again, and something in her was just so… happy. She broke out into giggles, doubling over. She’d just kissed Wednesday fucking Addams. She’d just kissed Wednesday!

“Pffft. Happy New Year Wednesday.”

#wenclair #wenclair fic #My fic #my fics #im too lazy to put this on ao3 lol #whatever ill do it tommorow #well today technically #hang on did i just pull an all-nighter #shit

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