#the gingerbread house witch
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Why was Hansel the meal of the witch?
This is a question I was aked recently, and I thought it would make a good subject for a post. "Why did the witch only try to fatten up and eat Hansel? Why didn't she imprison and fattened up Gretel too? Why did she choose to make Gretel her slave instead of Hansel?"
Which is actually a fascinating question. Now, I do not promise that there is some grand truth or secret meaning behind this. It is just a little detail and some technical workings of fairytales. But it is a point that many authors and rewriters have taken an interest upon, and that if a true well of reinterpretations.
So let's go... Why was Hansel the meal, and Gretel the slave?
If we go by the "canon" of the text (of course "canonical" fairytales do not exist, this is just an expression) - if we go by the Brothers Grimm's text, we... well we do not know. It is not specified anywhere why the witch decides to lock up and fatten up Hansel out of the siblings, and to not do the same thing for Gretel. There is no reason explicitely spelled out or given. Maybe she simply prefers the meat of boys over the one of girls? This absence of justification, and the apparent "randomness" of the choice opens a door for authors who would like to change things: for example in "A Tale Dark and Grimm" (the book, not the Netflix series), it is both Hansel and Gretel that are fattened up by the witch, and she only picks Hansel as the first one to be roasted. The Looney Tunes Hansel and Gretel also were both in the cooking pot of the witch Hazel...
The text only leaves implications for the reader. For example, the need for the witch to have a slave/assistant to help her with the chores is implied by the facts that she is 1) elderly 2) has a very bad sight and 3) walks with crutches (a very important point). So it is understandable she would require a slave to help her - but then why pick Gretel, and not Hansel? Again, the text does not answer. Many people like to portray Hansel as the oldest child of the duo, and Gretel as a younger sister - this is because Hansel seems to be the strongest, bravest and most intelligent one, as well as with how his name always comes first in the text, Gretel being after him. Maybe the witch chose to eat him first because he was precisely older, and thus there was a more developed body to eat? Even if the siblings are of the same age, we can always imagine the very old and present male/female dichotomy that claims that men's body are naturaly stronger, larger and meatier than women's, who have graceful, slender, lighter bodies. Maybe such a concept is at work, putting forward a mindset where a cannibal witch will always go for boys first as a main course, and girls next as an appetizer...
One possible reading of the story is that the witch only had enough place to lock up ONE child and thus had to make a choice. Maybe there wasn't enough room for two kids in her prison for future meals? This interpretation is supported by the ORIGINAL text of the Grimm's fairytale. In the first edition of the brothers Grimm's fairytales (provided by Jack Zipes), there is an explicit mention of the place Hansel is locked in: it isn't some sort of stable or cage as it would later be described, oh no! It is a chicken coop so small Hansel can BARELY MOVE. It is a really tiny prison, in which he barely fits. Of course, on a practical side, it can help with the whole fattening process since having a child eat rich meals without ever moving is certain to make him plump in no time (just look at these horrible industrial farms and how they lock up animals in tiny cages) ; but this detail actually explained why the witch only placed her efforts on one child, and not two: she obviously had only enough to place to lock up one kid, and had to deal with the other in a different way.
But even if we admit all those implications - that the elderly, handicaped witch needed a help, that she had only enough room to lock up one child, that maybe Hansel as an older boy makes a better meal than Gretel - there are still some strange and bizarre logical holes. For example, the witch beats up and starves and exhausts Gretel. This is the complete opposite of what she does to Hansel, who is pampered and fattened up - does this imply the witch maybe does NOT want to eat Gretel? Or does she really have only enough resources to fatten up one child, and can only afford making Gretel more edible once she is done with Hansel?
Again, mysteries upon mysteries. Fairytales are not created to work on practical details or actual psychological processes - they are stories relying on powerful visuals and ancient motifs and a dream-logic-structure. When we are told that the witch locks up Hansel to fatten him up and eat him, and that Gretel is becoming an abused slave, we just accept it, because it works on a set of powerful visuals, such as the malnurished slave sister cooking and feeding her imprisoned and soon-to-be-killed brother. The idea of the sister being reduced to a tool in the process of killing her own brother is a very powerful one, never explicitly stated, but still present and sometimes used by adaptations. There was this German Hansel and Gretel movie released in 2005 that explicitly played on this: the children were never told by the witch her intentions when she locked up Hansel, and for the first week or so of Gretel being a slave and Hansel fattened up, they were left in the dark concerning the real intentions of their mysterious jailers. This was a stark contrast with many Americanized adaptations that have the witch gloating and explaining her cannibalistic desires to her victims, and which opened the door for some interesting plot points - in this movie's case, Gretel being quite jealous and envious of Hansel's new life of feasting and being kindly treated by the witch when she got all the insults and chores. Of course, when they discover the truth, their mutual feelings reverse as Hansel realizes his seemingly "easier" fate is actually the worst of the two.
Still, the text is left ambiguous and open-ended enough for us to imagine TONS of things. There could be a rewrite of the tale where the witch exclusively eats little boys, and hates little girls. One nterpretation of dark poetry of the tale can be found in Znescope's Gretel mini-series. Despite this mini-series having BIG flaws (the choice of the witch's true identity was... quite bad to be honest), it does have a very interestng and morbid answer to the "Why was Hansel the only one fattened up?" question. It chooses to depict this difference of treatment as a sick and cruel game the witch plays with her preys: Hansel and Gretel are both her prisoners, but she fattens up Hansel while she starves Gretel, to make a contrast between the two, simply out of a perverse amusement. There is one particularly striking image of the two children locked in two cages arranged like a weighing scale, with Hansel's cage going lower as he grows fatter and Gretel's going up as she becomes skeletal... It is a nice visual contrast that has been reused by various artists.
Now, I spoke mainly here of the content of the story and of the text itself. However, as I stated before, we must look beyond the story itself to understand why Hansel was to be the meal, and not Gretel. Or rather we need to look at the fairy tale's structure, on a meta-level.
As I said before, the fairy tale works here on a system of duality. Hansel and Gretel are meant to be a yin and a yang, complementary reflections. The boy and the girl, the brave and the coward, the cunning older brother and the crying little sister. The idea that their fates are "split" into the house of the witch not only furthers the anguish of the characters, who at this point were always together but now find themselves separated, unable to face together the same trials, but also keeps on playing on these visuals and motifs. As I said, there is something that many artists read in the tale, in the opposition between a malnourished Gretel and a feasting Hansel. This is part of the same duality of food and famine present all throughout the tale, such as the woodcutter's famished and poor household, opposed to the witch's house made of sweets and with chests full of pearls. The siblings represent two forms of abuse and evilness enacted by the witch, but in complementary forms: with Gretel the witch becomes a domestic abuser and an enslaver, with Hansel she becomes a jailer and an ogress.
One can also read in this an extension of the typical sexist duality between men and women in these old centuries: the fates the witch forces upon the two children can be caricatures of what each gender is supposed to "do" in such a society. Gretel, like women, is expected to do household chores and to cook for her "man" - here it is caricatured into her becoming a slave, and only helping fattening up her brother like some cattle. In return, Hansel, like a man, is supposed to be well-treated and well-fed, but here the caring wife/mother figure is a monstrous hag who only makes him feast so she could eat him later. In fact, it is quite interesting to see how both siblings are dehumanized and reduced to the status of animals - from Hansel being fattened up in the stables like some pig or chicken, to Gretel being fed leftovers like a dog.
All of that being said, there is another much needed argument that must be made: the answer fo thte question can be easily found in the story's structure. This is the most obvious solving of the problem when you consider it all: the story of Hansel and Gretel relies on the idea that the two children must save each other in turn. There is a balance in the tale, which bears the name of the two protagonists as heroes, but one before the other. During the first part of the tale, it is Hansel who takes the lead and the decisions. He is the cunning hero who tricks his parents, saves his sister from the woods, returns home thanks to his plan. Gretel is only seen being scared, and crying, and not doing anything except follow her brother around. In the second part of the tale, within the witch's house, it is Gretel who becomes the hero. Her brother is "out of the race", locked up away and unable to do anything, and it is Gretel who this time has to trick the deadly parental figure, come up with a clever ruse, and ultimately save her brother from death. This creates a perfect balance between the two characters: Hansel starts out as the hero protecting his useless sister, and then it is Gretel who vanquishes her uselessness to become the hero saving her own, impotent brother. The siblings need each other to survive, and thus save each other in turn. This is how the story works. And this is why Hansel must be the locked-up, fattened-up victim, so that his sister can save him. Else it would have been the story of "Hansel", and not "Hansel and Gretel".
All of that being said, a last point must be made about a final theory. A theory and reading of the tale that has been very prevalent and prominent in recent adaptations of the story.
The recent "Gretel and Hansel" horror movie did it. Before the (X horror movie) also did it. Neil Gaiman's Hansel and Gretel also used this idea. The comics Fables toyed with it in a side-way. And this idea is simple: the witch did not want to eat Gretel, but rather wanted to make her a witch like herself. Gretel wasn't the witch's slave, but unwilling apprentice.
This idea is born of course from a reconsideration of what a "witch" is, and the gender questions attached with the figure of the witch. In the original story, the witch is not a witch in the modern sense of the term, in fact she is a monster that is very clearly an ogress by another name. There is no question of learning how to be a witch, or making deal with dark powers, or anything like that. But when you read the tale with the modern sense of "witch", as a symbol of dark and hostile feminity, as a woman of power, who works against the domination of men, or the tyranny of patriarchy - when you consider all the gender questions surrounding real-life witches and the witch hunts, you see the witch's actions under a different eye. Her not wanting to eat Gretel at first, and making her do her chores, and forcing her to live with her, might hint at the fact she still considers her more "human" or more valuable than her brother, who is nothing but food, a mere cattle. Several of the modern reinventions of the tale, such as those stated above, decide to add the twist that the witch actually wants to shape or make the little girl into her image: from a slave doing the witch's chores, she becomes the witch apprentice, who is by her side in everything she does. Some of those readngs remove the elements of abuse towards Gretel, while others do not forget them. Neil Gaiman's take on the story is especially fascinating as the witch is explicitely described as oscillating between periods of sweetness and kidndness, promising Gretel all of her secrets and great powers, and periods of pure hatred and violence where she just insults and beats up the girl - all of it highlighting either the witch's madness, or a form of senility due to her old age.
But this theme of "Gretel as a future witch" or "Gretel as the witch's apprentice" ties in with another subtext well-hidden in the original text, but that many like to weave upon: Gretel as the "daughter" of the witch. In many of those rewrites and reinterpretations, the witch doesn't just treat Gretel as an apprentice, but as an heir or a replacement daughter. This is no surprise since it is very clear that in the original tale, the witch is the dark side of the mother figure, and an evil doppelganger of the wicked stepmother/mother of the siblings. As such, it makes sense for her to impose an abusive and unconsented motherhood upon Gretel - doesn't her forcing the girl to do all the chores not reminiscent of how famous fairytales stepmothers treat heroines like Cinderella? Such a perverse motherhood was already explicit and obvious in her treatment of Hansel: like a mother she nourishes and feeds Hansel (in fact she succeeds where the wicked stepmother failed), but this is all to devour him, in a ritual of "un-birth", she becomes a death-givers who doesn't expel a child out of her womb, but has it return to her stomach. [This is a very common and usual motif among ogres of fairytales, who are all caricatures of parenthood].
More generally, to have the witch act in such a way actually makes the fairytale more "feminist" somehow, but in a quite perverse way. Because in such a reading, we have a women-dominated world. The true active and powerful characters of the story are beings such as the wicked stepmother and the witch, who command, control and influence the other characters - especially the male ones. The father is a weak puppet who can't stand up to his wife, Hansel is reduced to a fat pig in a cage. Hansel did try to escape the tyranny of the wicked woman, but all he could do was push back his doom, and his plans ultimately failed. Gretel, as a woman herself, is given a special treatment - and in the "apprentice/daughter" interpretation, is "absorbed" by this world of wicked, dominating women. But she actually breaks from it, and kills the one that would have "turned" her - and it is telling and interesting that the only one who can have a true an full success, a definitive victory in this tale is Gretel. Hansel's plans work and save them, but only for a brief time, and his last plan fails dramaticaly, before he gets locked up and "out of the story". Gretel meanwhile, when she gets the courage and intelligence to act, proves herself much more efficient and definitive than her brother, as she puts a true end to the threat other them by killing the witch (and by extension killing the wicked stepmother/mother). This is something Hansel couldn't do - all he could was trck the wicked woman, and nullify her plans, but he could not remove the threat of the death and the hunger.
Anyway, as you can see, despite being a quite superficial and silly question, this fact (or rather absence of facts) opens up a whole jar of various interpretations, readings and themes, and proves the hidden complexity of these apparently "simple" stories.
#hansel and gretel#hansel#gretel#witch#fairytale analysis#the gingerbread house witch#grimm fairytales#german fairytales#hansel and gretel adaptations
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The Grimm Variations, Episode 5*
A new Netflix Anime has caught my eye. It's Called the Grimm Variations; which feature retellings of Original Brothers Grimm fairytales. But rather be a beat for beat, they are more reimagined. A "What If" kind of thing. I figured I'd share the original Fairytales these stories are based on for those interested.
Edit: I got the order of the episodes Mixed up, so I'll share them in the order I saw them.
This one was Based on the Classic story Hansel and Gretel. A staple Fairytale for Kitchen Witches. Two children from a poor household trying to be driven away by their mother to save money. She keeps trying to lose them in the forest and they keep managing to find their way back. Until, one day, they don't and stumble into a Witch's Sweet Bread House.
A common misconception about the story though is that Hansel and Gretel leave bread crumbs to find their ways home. So "Bread Crumbs" is a common turn of phrase used when describing clues left by others on purpose. However, they found their way home using stones. When they tried using bread crumbs, that's when they got lost as the wildlife ate their trail.
Hansel and Gretel
Near a great forest there lived a poor woodcutter and his wife, and his two children; the boy's name was Hansel and the girl's Grethel. They had very little to bite or to sup, and once, when there was great dearth in the land, the man could not even gain the daily bread. As he lay in bed one night thinking of this, and turning and tossing, he sighed heavily, and said to his wife, "What will become of us? we cannot even feed our children; there is nothing left for ourselves."
"I will tell you what, husband," answered the wife; "we will take the children early in the morning into the forest, where it is thickest; we will make them a fire, and we will give each of them a piece of bread, then we will go to our work and leave them alone; they will never find the way home again, and we shall be quit of them."
"No, wife," said the man, "I cannot do that; I cannot find in my heart to take my children into the forest and to leave them there alone; the wild animals would soon come and devour them." - "O you fool," said she, "then we will all four starve; you had better get the coffins ready," and she left him no peace until he consented. "But I really pity the poor children," said the man.
The two children had not been able to sleep for hunger, and had heard what their step-mother had said to their father. Grethel wept bitterly, and said to Hansel, "It is all over with us."
"Do be quiet, Grethel," said Hansel, "and do not fret; 1 will manage something." And when the parents had gone to sleep he got up, put on his little coat, opened the back door, and slipped out. The moon was shining brightly, and the white flints that lay in front of the house glistened like pieces of silver. Hansel stooped and filled the little pocket of his coat as full as it would hold. Then he went back again, and said to Grethel, "Be easy, dear little sister, and go to sleep quietly; God will not forsake us," and laid himself down again in his bed. When the day was breaking, and before the sun had risen, the wife came and awakened the two children, saying, "Get up, you lazy bones; we are going into the forest to cut wood." Then she gave each of them a piece of bread, and said, "That is for dinner, and you must not eat it before then, for you will get no more." Grethel carried the bread under her apron, for Hansel had his pockets full of the flints. Then they set off all together on their way to the forest. When they had gone a little way Hansel stood still and looked back towards the house, and this he did again and again, till his father said to him, "Hansel, what are you looking at? take care not to forget your legs."
"O father," said Hansel, "lam looking at my little white kitten, who is sitting up on the roof to bid me good-bye." - "You young fool," said the woman, "that is not your kitten, but the sunshine on the chimney-pot." Of course Hansel had not been looking at his kitten, but had been taking every now and then a flint from his pocket and dropping it on the road. When they reached the middle of the forest the father told the children to collect wood to make a fire to keep them, warm; and Hansel and Grethel gathered brushwood enough for a little mountain j and it was set on fire, and when the flame was burning quite high the wife said, "Now lie down by the fire and rest yourselves, you children, and we will go and cut wood; and when we are ready we will come and fetch you."
So Hansel and Grethel sat by the fire, and at noon they each ate their pieces of bread. They thought their father was in the wood all the time, as they seemed to hear the strokes of the axe: but really it was only a dry branch hanging to a withered tree that the wind moved to and fro. So when they had stayed there a long time their eyelids closed with weariness, and they fell fast asleep.
When at last they woke it was night, and Grethel began to cry, and said, "How shall we ever get out of this wood? "But Hansel comforted her, saying, "Wait a little while longer, until the moon rises, and then we can easily find the way home." And when the full moon got up Hansel took his little sister by the hand, and followed the way where the flint stones shone like silver, and showed them the road. They walked on the whole night through, and at the break of day they came to their father's house. They knocked at the door, and when the wife opened it and saw that it was Hansel and Grethel she said, "You naughty children, why did you sleep so long in the wood? we thought you were never coming home again!" But the father was glad, for it had gone to his heart to leave them both in the woods alone.
Not very long after that there was again great scarcity in those parts, and the children heard their mother say at night in bed to their father, "Everything is finished up; we have only half a loaf, and after that the tale comes to an end. The children must be off; we will take them farther into the wood this time, so that they shall not be able to find the way back again; there is no other way to manage." The man felt sad at heart, and he thought, "It would better to share one's last morsel with one's children." But the wife would listen to nothing that he said, but scolded and reproached him. He who says A must say B too, and when a man has given in once he has to do it a second time.
But the children were not asleep, and had heard all the talk. When the parents had gone to sleep Hansel got up to go out and get more flint stones, as he did before, but the wife had locked the door, and Hansel could not get out; but he comforted his little sister, and said, "Don't cry, Grethel, and go to sleep quietly, and God will help us." Early the next morning the wife came and pulled the children out of bed. She gave them each a little piece of "bread -less than before; and on the way to the wood Hansel crumbled the bread in his pocket, and often stopped to throw a crumb on the ground. "Hansel, what are you stopping behind and staring for?" said the father.
"I am looking at my little pigeon sitting on the roof, to say good-bye to me," answered Hansel. "You fool," said the wife, "that is no pigeon, but the morning sun shining on the chimney pots." Hansel went on as before, and strewed bread crumbs all along the road. The woman led the children far into the wood, where they had never been before in all their lives. And again there was a large fire made, and the mother said, "Sit still there, you children, and when you are tired you can go to sleep; we are going into the forest to cut wood, and in the evening, when we are ready to go home we will come and fetch you."
So when noon came Grethel shared her bread with Hansel, who had strewed his along the road. Then they went to sleep, and the evening passed, and no one came for the poor children. When they awoke it was dark night, and Hansel comforted his little sister, and said, "Wait a little, Grethel, until the moon gets up, then we shall be able to see the way home by the crumbs of bread that I have scattered along it."
So when the moon rose they got up, but they could find no crumbs of bread, for the birds of the woods and of the fields had come and picked them up. Hansel thought they might find the way all the same, but they could not. They went on all that night, and the next day from the morning until the evening, but they could not find the way out of the wood, and they were very hungry, for they had nothing to eat but the few berries they could pick up. And when they were so tired that they could no longer drag themselves along, they lay down under a tree and fell asleep.
It was now the third morning since they had left their father's house. They were always trying to get back to it, but instead of that they only found themselves farther in the wood, and if help had not soon come they would have been starved.
About noon they saw a pretty snow-white bird sitting on a bough, and singing so sweetly that they stopped to listen. And when he had finished the bird spread his wings and flew before them, and they followed after him until they came to a little house, and the bird perched on the roof, and when they came nearer they saw that the house was built of bread, and roofed with cakes; and the window was of transparent sugar. "We will have some of this," said Hansel, "and make a fine meal. I will eat a piece of the roof, Grethel, and you can have some of the window-that will taste sweet." So Hansel reached up and broke off a bit of the roof, just to see how it tasted, and Grethel stood by the window and gnawed at it. Then they heard a thin voice call out from inside,
"Nibble, nibble, like a mouse,
Who is nibbling at my house?"
And the children answered,
"Never mind, It is the wind."
And they went on eating, never disturbing themselves. Hansel, who found that the roof tasted very nice, took down a great piece of it, and Grethel pulled out a large round window-pane, and sat her down and began upon it.
Then the door opened, and an aged woman came out, leaning upon a crutch. Hansel and Grethel felt very frightened, and let fall what they had in their hands. The old woman, however, nodded her head, and said, "Ah, my dear children, how come you here? you must come indoors and stay with me, you will be no trouble." So she took them each by the hand, and led them into her little house. And there they found a good meal laid out, of milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples, and nuts. After that she showed them two little white beds, and Hansel and Grethel laid themselves down on them, and thought they were in heaven.
The old woman, although her behaviour was so kind, was a wicked witch, who lay in wait for children, and had built the little house on purpose to entice them. When they were once inside she used to kill them, cook them, and eat them, and then it was a feast day with her. The witch's eyes were red, and she could not see very far, but she had a keen scent, like the beasts, and knew very well when human creatures were near. When she knew that Hansel and Grethel were coming, she gave a spiteful laugh, and said triumphantly, "I have them, and they shall not escape me!"
Early in the morning, before the children were awake, she got up to look at them, and as they lay sleeping so peacefully with round rosy cheeks, she said to herself, "What a fine feast I shall have!" Then she grasped Hansel with her withered hand, and led him into a little stable, and shut him up behind a grating; and call and scream as he might, it was no good. Then she went back to Grethel and shook her, crying, "Get up, lazy bones; fetch water, and cook something nice for your brother; he is outside in the stable, and must be fattened up. And when he is fat enough I will eat him." Grethel began to weep bitterly, but it was of no use, she had to do what the wicked witch bade her. And so the best kind of victuals was cooked for poor Hansel, while Grethel got nothing but crab-shells.
Each morning the old woman visited the little stable, and cried, "Hansel, stretch out your finger, that I may tell if you will soon be fat enough." Hansel, however, used to hold out a little bone, and the old woman, who had weak eyes, could not see what it was, and supposing it to be Hansel's finger, wondered very much that it was not getting fatter.
When four weeks had passed and Hansel seemed to remain so thin, she lost patience and could wait no longer. "Now then, Grethel," cried she to the little girl; "be quick and draw water; be Hansel fat or be he lean, tomorrow I must kill and cook him." Oh what a grief for the poor little sister to have to fetch water, and how the tears flowed down over her cheeks! "Dear God, pray help us!" cried she; "if we had been devoured by wild beasts in the wood at least we should have died together."
"Spare me your lamentations," said the old woman; "they are of no avail." Early next morning Grethel had to get up, make the fire, and fill the kettle. "First we will do the baking," said the old woman; "I nave heated the oven already, and kneaded the dough." She pushed poor Grethel towards the oven, out of which the flames were already shining.
"Creep in," said the witch, "and see if it is properly hot, so that the bread may be baked." And Grethel once in, she meant to shut the door upon her and let her be baked, and then she would have eaten her. But Grethel perceived her intention, and said, "I don't know how to do it: how shall I get in?"
"Stupid goose," said the old woman, "the opening is big enough, do you see? I could get in myself!" and she stooped down and put her head in the oven's mouth. Then Grethel gave her a push, so that she went in farther, and she shut the iron door upon her, and put up the bar. Oh how frightfully she howled! but Grethel ran away, and left the wicked witch to burn miserably.
Grethel went straight to Hansel, opened the stable-door, and cried, "Hansel, we are free! the old witch is dead!" Then out flew Hansel like a bird from its cage as soon as the door is opened. How rejoiced they both were! how they fell each on the other's neck! and danced about, and kissed each other! And as they had nothing more to fear they went over all the old witch's house, and in every corner there stood chests of pearls and precious stones. "This is something better than flint stones," said Hansel, as he filled his pockets, and Grethel, thinking she also would like to carry something home with her, filled her apron full. i! Now, away we go," said Hansel, "if we only can get out of the witch's wood." When they had journeyed a few hours they came to a great piece of water. "We can never get across this," said Hansel, "I see no stepping-stones and no bridge."
"And there is no boat either," said Grethel; "but here comes a white duck; if I ask her she will help us over." So she cried,
"Duck, duck, here we stand,
Hansel and Grethel, on the land,
Stepping-stones and bridge we lack,
Carry us over on your nice white back."
And the duck came accordingly, and Hansel got upon her and told his sister to come too. "No," answered Grethel, "that would be too hard upon the duck; we can go separately, one after the other." And that was how it was managed, and after that they went on happily, until they came to the wood, and the way grew more and more familiar, till at last they saw in the distance their father's house. Then they ran till they came up to it, rushed in at the door, and fell on their father's neck. The man had not had a quiet hour since he left his children in the wood; but the wife was dead. And when Grethel opened her apron the pearls and precious stones were scattered all over the room, and Hansel took one handful after another out of his pocket. Then was all care at an end, and they lived in great joy together. My tale is done, there runs a mouse, whosoever catches it, may make himself a big fur cap out of it.
#food and folklore#kitchen witch#fairytale#folktale#folklore#brothers grimm#hansel and gretel#gingerbread house#grimm variations#netflix#netflix series
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Finally finished my Narnia gingerbread house project. Well, it's a gingerbread wardrobe, but same thing really :D
#edible art#narnia#the narnia chronicles#gingerbread#vegan#vegan food#veganfood#vegan eats#what vegans eat#gingerbread house#the lion the witch and the wardrobe#wardrobe#chronicles of narnia#fantasy#aslan#c.s. lewis#cs lewis#tcon#Youtube
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christmas dinner party with friends was a success.
#we made so many sugar cookies that were cowboy boot shaped#and tried our hand at a gingerbread house#but to top it all off was playing cards against humanity and laughing until we couldn't breathe#i'm pretty sure i'm going to be permanently covered in flour#witch aunt talks✨
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So i just found out the gingerbread tree houses are a thing and my lone brain cell was consumed by a single thought...
George of the gingerbread jungle~
shoutout to @otakv-trxsh for informing me of such a treasure~
#thank you my child#cookies for you#🍪🍪🍪#I want to live in this house so bad#Grandma of the Gingerbread House#yup#i'm the kind good witch that hansel and gretel wish they met#same house without the death#i only serve unpoisoned tea so y'all're good#BrainDeadArt#my post
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Magical summer: More fairytale witches
The wicked queen and the gingerbread house witch
From: German fairytales/ German folklore
When nowadays we speak of the “wicked witch” in fairytales, three characters (and three tales) keep popping up, three famous fairytales that formed together the archetypal idea of the wicked witch in western fairytale: the wicked fairy of “Sleeping Beauty”, the child-eating witch of “Hansel and Gretel”, and the evil queen of “Snow-White”. We already talked about Sleeping Beauty and its unique fairy, so let’s dig a bit in the two other tales, and see those other two famous “fairytale witches”. This division is also quite fitting as those two “witches” are actually both belonging to the fairytales of the Brothers Grimm (unlike the wicked fairy of Sleeping Beauty who comes from the French Perrault’s tales).
I) Snow-White’s wicked queen
The jealous queen of the fairy “Snow-White” (or of its original name, “Little Snow White”), is actually never called a “witch” in the story per se. She is always treated as a regular woman… who happens to have an affinity with magic, and who has a lot of witch symbolism in her tale.
If we go back to the story as published by the Brothers Grimm: after the death of Snow-White’s original mother, the queen, her father the king marries again, to a beautiful woman who becomes the new queen and Snow-White’s stepmother. However the new queen isn’t just a pretty face, she is also extremely vain, with a heart filled with “pride and envy”. The queen happens to own a magical mirror, and every morning she asks it a variation of “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” while the mirror always answers “You are”. Because you see, it is the only desire and only wish of the queen, to be the most beautiful woman around.
However, when Snow-White reaches seven years-old, the mirror suddenly reveals that it is her who is the fairest of the land, not the queen. The jealous queen is so envious and angry that she decides to get rid of the child – she tasks a huntsman servant of hers to take the child into the woods and kill her there. BUT she asks that he returns with her heart, because she plans to eat it. On one side this detail does bring the queen closer to the traditional idea of witches, as they were frequently accused of cannibalism (especially child-eating) – but it seems this element of the story is actually rather referring to an old superstition, or rather a pagan tradition/legendary belief according to which eating a part of the body or an organ of someone else allows you to absorb the energy/youth/vitality/strength of said person. Symbolically, the queen is here trying to absorb the youth and beauty of Snow-White by eating her heart.
As we know, the huntsman tricks the queen and lets Snow-White live – which the Queen learns the next time she tries using her mirror. Starts three more attempts at murdering Snow-White, this time with the Queen doing everything by herself. Every time she disguises herself (first two times as an old peddler woman, then as a country-woman) to trick Snow-White into accepting a deadly gift from her. It is quite interesting to see that these murder attempts, often treated in later adaptations as being magic in nature, are actually quite… “mundane” in the original tale. The disguises are literally just the queen putting on a disguise and painting her face (it is only after Disney's movie that the idea of her disguises being magic appeared). Her first murder attempt is her strangling Snow-White with a lace. The other two are the queen merely using poison, first on a comb, then on an apple. The latter can be related to witches, it is true, because brewing poison and poisoning people was one of the main features of witches (and back then, if you found a woman poisoner, she would have been called a “witch” anyway). But there is no real magic involved… except maybe for the comb. Because you see, while for poisoning the apple the queen is just said to retire in a “lonely, secret room” of the castle, when it comes to making the poisonous comb she actually is explicitly said to use a form of “witchcraft” she knew about. So is the poison used on the comb magical (in fact is all the poisons she uses magical?), or is it just that poison-making is treated as “witchcraft”? Both are possible, and the queen owning a magic mirror doesn’t help clarifying the case either.
The envious queen meets her demise at the end of the tale when she hears the new bride of the prince is more beautiful than her – only to arrive at the wedding and discovering it is Snow-White. There she is struck with anger and fear but can’t flee, as the newlywed couple prepared an atrocious punishment for her: iron shoes that are heated until they turn red. She is forced to wear them and dance to death… Again, we have here strong witch imagery, as red-hot iron was often used in torture during witch trials (in fact iron itself was believed in Western Europe to be a sort of anti-magic metal that could help fight against witches and fairies), and the typical punishment for witches was to be burned to death. It also ties to two more motif: the enchanted dance (as often tales evoke some sort of wizard, fairy or other magic user cursing people to dance to death), and the “red shoes” (there was a tradition at some point that believed women wearing red shoes were witches).
II) The gingerbread house’s witch
The witch from “Hansel and Gretel” (in a more Germanic form, “Hänsel and Grethel”) is another very iconic fairytale witch – and yet one as unusual as the evil queen, as she doesn’t actually act so much like a witch, but rather like an ogre.
This time, the witch is clearly called one. Despite looking like a kind harmless old woman (a “very, very old woman” according to the text, so old she has to walk on crutches), she is actually a “wicked witch” – and here witches are treated almost as if they were not human beings. This witch lives in a little house made of bread and “covered in cakes”, with windows of clear sugar – a house she built precisely to lure hungry children in the woods to her, as the witch’s favorite food and most delicate delicacy is the meat of children. It is unclear if she eats something else than children (it is possible, after all she does have other food in the house) and she is said to be able to spend four weeks without eating a child (though she grows VERY impatient by then), but otherwise she is never described eating anything else…
The witch welcomes Hänsel and Grethel in her house when they appear and start nibbling on the roof and windows – she offers them a beautiful meal of “milk, pancakes, sugar, apples and nuts” (note a clear absence of meat), and then lets them sleep in “two pretty little beds covered with clear white linen”. But by the following morning she reveals her real nature: a controlling, cruel witch. She has a different fate in mind for the two children. Hänsel she locks up in a little stable and plans to fatten up, so that when he is plump enough she will eat him – meanwhile Grethel stays in the house, but acts as a slave to the witch, who gives her all sorts of chores (notably bringing water and cooking food for her brother) and treats her badly. As the tale says, Hänsel ends up every day with the best foods, while Grethel is forced to eat “crab shells”.
Every morning the witch comes to Hänsel’s stable and asks that he puts his finger through the door, so that she can touch it and see how fat he is. It is described explicitly in the story that witches have “red” and “dim” eyes, with a very bad eyesight, meaning they can’t see very far (and visibly can’t see very close either) – a bad sight that they balance with an extremely keen sense of smell similar to the one of animals, and the ability to feel when humans are near them. The witch asks to touch Hänsel’s finger because she can’t actually see if he is fat enough, but the little boy uses this weakness to trick her: he places a little bone through the door, instead of his finger, and so the witch is convinced he stays desperately thin. It is only after four weeks that she grows tired of waiting.
But despite not having fattened up Grethel (and in fact doing the opposite being making her work constantly and giving her very little food), she does try to eat her at the same time as her brother (probably because as she says herself, she thinks she will eat Hänsel thin, so she might want to add more meat). After having Grethel hang up the water-filled cauldron and light up the fire to cook Hänsel, the witch prepares a flaming oven (plus kneads dough) and asks Grethel to climb inside it to see if it is hot enough and if everything is burning nicely. Grethel isn’t so stupid, she realizes the witch wants to bake her in the oven – so she also tricks the witch, pretending she doesn’t know how to climb in and that the witch has to show her. Cut to the witch being pushed in the oven and burning to death, and the free children running away from the “witch’s woods”.
The tale also adds that after being free, the children explore the witch’s house and find in “every corner”, chests full of “pearls and jewels” that they promptly take with them to return home rich. One interesting fact, about the “witch’s woods”, is how some adaptations like to depict the witch as much more in control of the environment around her house – playing more the “witch” card. For example, there was a famous German television series that adapted each of Grimm’s fairytale into small TV movies, and in their adaptation of Hansel and Gretel they showed that it was the “witch’s woods” because if a child tries to leave they activate a spell the witch put on the woods, that turn runaway children into trees. In the original tale, the children are lured to the house by a pretty singing white bird, who the children follow until he lands on the roof of the house – several adaptations (most notably a famous Japanese anime adapting the Grimm fairytales) turn the white bird into some sort of servant or familiar of the witch, whose job is to lure children to the house. These adaptations even tie to the witch to the numerous birds that eat the breadcrumbs the children leave behind them to return home.
These two figures are quite different, but in their fame both gave elements to the “archetypal” fairy tale wicked witch. All the tropes and ideas of the witch disguising herself as a harmless old woman, of the blind child-eating witch, of the poisoned apple, magic mirror and gingerbread house, they all come from the fusion and use of these figures in popular culture.
- - -
Another interesting fact with those two characters is that both represent in fairytale symbols the "negative mothers", or the "un-mother".
The wicked queen of Snow-White is the princess' stepmother, literaly a double and replacement for the princess' original mother. And while Snow-White's birthmother was a kind and gentle woman, who gave life to the little girl, her new mother is the very opposite, a wrathful, haughty and envious person whose only desire is to give death. The parallel is even stronger when you notice how the birth-mother sacrificed herself to create Snow-White, while the stepmother wishes to destroy Snow-White in order to not being replaced and erased herself.
This parallel between the "positive mother" and "negative mother" is even more powerful and disturbing when you realize that in the first editions of their book, in the original tale published by the Brothers Grimm, the evil queen was actually... Snow-White's real mother. The original, birth-mother. Later the Brothers Grimm changed this because, in their personal view it was bad to show examples of mother trying to harm or kill their children, it sent the "wrong message" (the Brothers themselves had a big "mother worship" thing), and so they changed the evil queen to a stepmother.
A similar case occured with Hansel and Gretel - as originally it was their mother that wanted to chase them out of the house, not a "step-mother".
If the gingerbread house witch is a case of the "un-mother" or "negative mother", it is because she is once again a dark reflection of the mother. At first she appears as a positive figure opposing the original mother, who chases away the children out of fear of hunger and lack of food - the witch, on the contrary is all about food and welcomes the children into a well-fed paradise. But soon it turns out she is the reverse problem, as her keeping the children and feeding them is what will cause their death. She is not the mother giver of food, but the devouring mother reabsorbing the children inside of her - the polar opposite of the original wicked mother that denies children food and then plans to kill them to satisfy her own hunger. Both are hungry child-killers, but in very different ways.
In fact, the story of the Brothers Grimm itself highlights the connection between the gingerbread witch and the wicked mother/stepmother, as when the children return home, they find their husband a widow, their stepmother/mother having died while they were gone. ... Think about it, the children leave, kill a witch, and when they return another wicked woman of their life is mysteriously dead? The parallel between the two is extremely explicit - the two characters are somehow mysteriously connected in the tale.
#magic#witch#witches#magical summer#fairytale#fairytales#hansel and gretel#snow white#queen#gingerbread house
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#e draws#froggyfall#witch's home#frog#gingerbread house#Hansel and gretel anyone#digital art#stay safe frog
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Tomorrow I will cook him - "ARMIN MEIWES" (SKYND, 2022)
Tomorrow I will cook him – “ARMIN MEIWES” (SKYND, 2022)
Seems to be the month for cannibal music videos. Last week we looked at the new song CANNIBAL by Marcus Mumford, directed by Steven Spielberg. A beautiful ballad about metaphoric cannibalism, the kind of cannibalism that relationships can turn into, particularly abusive ones. Mumford seems to be referring to child abuse, accusing his abuser of taking “the first slice of me and you ate it raw.…
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#Abel Gideon#Armin Meiwes#cannibal music videos#cannibalism#gingerbread house#Hannibal#Hänsel und Gretel#Humane slaughter#Jürgen Brandes#Katherine Knight#Livestock#Mason Verger#Mein Tell#Rammstein#SKYND#The Cannibal Café#witch
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It is a beautiful day and after last night's brutal creation crash, I think I'll drag out my tablet and draw. But instead of listening to the birds, I will listen to metal. Don't care how spring it is, my lil heart's still gonna be black.
#best description i have for creation crash is its the artistic version of sub drop lol#happy chems are go and then just stop. its pretty normal for me when i finish something#its why i always have the next project waiting but i didnt this time bc i dunno what im gonna do#not work on that gingerbread house i never got to work on#maybe i can do ceramic repairs? i have that one carousel unicorn that needs fixed too#the witch speaks#we are gonna ignore the dozen or so writing things that just need edits before i post
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Given I have made two posts already about "Hansel and Gretel", or variations of the story, I'll make this fairytale the Grimm fairytale of this season. And since everybody knows Hansel and Gretel, and I already spoke somehow about it, I'll just leave below several notes, trivia and facts.
I have spoken before about the "original" version of the Brothers Grimm fairytale - aka the first edition of the text, and how it changed and evolved up to the story we know today. Many of these changes are well-known by the public - for example how the wicked stepmother was originally a wicked MOTHER (but the Grimm changed it because they had a mother-worship thing going on) ; or how the whole "duck scene" where the kids are helped crossing the river by birds was added later and not present in the original text. Some are less known, such as the fact that the "heavenly wind" rhyme was not part of the original text, or how Hansel's prison was originally not some sort of stable like in the final text but a tiny hicken coop.
In terms of "sibling stories" when we look at the great patches of historical fairytales and older literary works, you will find a lot of people pointing out to the Italian fairytale "Ninnillo and Nennella" by Basile - but I have to strongly disagree with this claim, because while Basile's fairytale does contain the motif of "boy/girl sblings abandoned several times in the woods, using various objects to find their way back, until it fails and they are lost forever", beyond that the fairytale has little to no relationship with Hansel and Gretel. A more direct ancestry and relationship has to be found in the French fairytale. More precisely in Perrault's Little Thumbling, Le Petit Poucet, which is also a story about children abandoned in the woods due to a lack of food, that found their way back several times before the birds eat the bread, and that end up in the house of a man-eater, an ogre trying to kill them. But we are still quite away from the German tale - and it is another French literary fairytale that forms the "missing link" in this chain. Madame d'Aulnoy's "Cunning Cinders" (Finette Cendron). This story doesn't involve children, but four young women - however it still follows the Hansel and Gretel formula very closely. Abandoned by their parents in the wilderness, manage to get back several times before it fails, end up trapped in the house of man-eaters, and the titular character defeats the ogre by pushing hm into a fiery oven... Of course, beyond that d'Aulnoy has a ton of additional content - such as the ogre having a wife that must be beheaded ; the lost girls being helped by a fairy godmother ; and the second part of the story being an alternate Cinderella.
But all in all it shows a point I made previously, and talked about in my ogre posts: the structure and type of the "Hansel and Gretel" story is originally an ogre tale. All older versions of the story involve ogres, not witches - but since the German do not have "ogres" in their folklore, the ogress was replaced by a witch. And despite this replacement, the witch of the story keeps several ogre traits - such as a motif of "the elderly devours youth", the idea of the witch having a poor eyesight but a keen sense of smell, or the entire "maternal perversion" motif. Which is my next point.
"Hansel and Gretel" is a familial tragedy, like many other fairytales. But the family of Hansel and Gretel is an actually extremely bizarre one. You can see, once you know your folklore and fairytale lore, that despite it being considered a "classic" and a "foundation", this tale is actually a fragmented and pieced-together story that leaves numerous gaps and is much more muddled and confused than its equivalents and predecessors. What I mean by that is that, when you look at the familial relationships in this story, you will discover several remnants of an older and more commonspread familial structure that was erased, and only leaves bizarre analogies in the new set of characters the tale offers.
To be clearer. We know that Hansel and Gretel are siblings, and that they have two parents - the father and the stepmother, formerly mother. The witch is an unrelated character acting as an outside element - or so it seems. The fairytale actually establishes a parallel and a connection between the wicked stepmother and the witch. They are parallel characters, two wicked women that want the death of children, but whereas one wants to throw the kids out of the house to leave them to starve or be devoured by beats, so she can have more food herself, the other imprisons the children in her house and overfeeds them to devour them later. A more direct link is established whenn the children return home, at the end of the tale, and discover that their step-mother is dead.
Some dark and edgy adaptations will have things such as the stepmother being killed by her husband, or killing herself, stuff like that - but by the tale alone, on just reading the words, and the first impression it leaves on a child, is that the stepmother mysteriously dies in unexplained ways right after the children burned the witch in her oven. The fact that the two wicked women end up deceased for the tale to end happily, the fact the stepmother's death is left unexplained while the witch's death is graphic and fully presented, the fact the stepmother's death is announced after the witch was killed... It all leaves the impression that the two were connected, and that by some sort of "parallel magic", killing the witch triggered the stepmother's death.
This is something many adaptations picked up upon, and you find versons where the witch and the mother look a lot alike, or are played by the same person, or are the same being. (One can compare it to Russian variations of the stories of Baba-Yaga, where wicked stepmothers sometimes send their nice stepdaughters a la Vasilisa the Fair, to the Yaga's house claiming the Yaga is their "sister"). All in all this continues the idea that the witch is a perverse take on the mother figure - nourishing and protecting children only to gulp them down into her stomach. Which, by the way, is the very symbolism and essence of ogres: fathers that kill, mothers that eat.
But while this is the most famous of the "perverse family connections" in the tale, there is another people tend to forget: the connection between Gretel and the witch. I talked heavily of the difference of treatment the witch has between Hansel and Gretel in a previous post ("Why was Hansel the meal of the witch?"). People have noted the strange discrepancy of Hansel being the one locked up and fattened up to be eaten, while Gretel became an abused slave. Many modern adaptations played on this element by having the witch planning on not eating Gretel, but making her an apprentice in witchcraft, an heir to her house, and treating her like a daughter/witch in training. After all, she does malnourish her, so she seems not keen on the idea of eating her at first...
But these modern adaptations actually picked up on something deeper and more fascinating. You see, the witch not locking up Gretel and treating her as her slave seems to be a leftover from older variants of the tale, because there is a widespread archetype in fairytales known as "the witch's daughter" or "the ogress' daughter". In many ogress or man-eating witches tales, the antagonist has a daughter that assists her in her chores. Sometimes the daughter will secretely help the protagonist escape and be an ally - but these are quite rare, and most of the time the daughter is the one the witch/ogress charges of killing-cooking the protagonist. Then the protagonist tricks the daughter, kills and cooks her instead of themselves, and serve her to their monstrous mother, who believes she is eating the protagonist, when in fact she devours her own daughter. It is a very typical structure in those tales, found from the Baba Yaga legends to the Kabyle tales of the teryel.
The witch's daughter archetype also exists in fairytales where the witch is not a man-eater, but rather an antagonist that imprisons people, or that imposes impossible tasks - and here, the daughter will be a more benevolent figure that will secretly help the protagonist escape the witch and/or overcome the trials and tasks the mother imposes. In fact, in several of those stories, the protagonist fights for the right to love and marry the witch's daughter.
All in all, the fact that Gretel is treated as a slave and assistant to the witch, that she is to help feeding and fattening her brother, etc, etc, implies that her character in the story of the Grimm is a leftover of the "ogress' daughter" or "witch's daughter" of older stories. As a result it makes even more sense for adaptations to have the witch treat Gretel as some sort of surrogate daughter, and it makes the whole family picture of the German story very messed up. The witch who tries to eat the children might be their mother/step-mother, and Gretel might be the witch's daughter.
Another motif that has been picked up by various adaptatons is the motif of birds. I remember long ago I stumbled upon a fascinating art series depicting the witch as a half-bird half-human creature - unfortunately the pictures are now lost in the vast pit of the Internet. More recently, another artist posted an image of Hansel in his cage, with the witch appearing a large, black bird above the cage, wearing a witch's hat.
All those art pieces reflected a true fact: "Hansel and Gretel" is a bird story. You have the birds that devour the bread crumbs, but also the pretty bird that leads the children to the witch's house, and the ducks that helps them cross the stream in the added ending of the Grimm. Some variations also have Hansel claim, when he keeps looking back at the house, that he is seeing a "pretty bird" instead of a "pretty cat" like in the Grimm's final text. As a result, some people did identify the birds that eat the breadcrumbs and/or the bird that leads the children to the house with the witch. The anime "Grimm's Fairy Tale Classics" notably depicted the pretty bird luring the children to the house as the witch's familiar.
A last note: The idea that the witch's house is made of tons of various candies and sweets was popularized by various modern adaptations and retellings of the story. In the Grimm tale, the house isn't made of candy. It isn't even made of gingerbread as so many people believe! While it is common for people to think of this tale as "the one with the gingerbread house", I don't know where that comes from. In the text of the Grimm, the house is merely made of bread, plain old bread, with sugar for the windows. There are however cakes that are said to cover the house, as ornaments. Maybe people in retellings decided to mix together the "cake"and the "bread" and decided to make it "gingerbread"? I don't know.
#hansel and gretel#fairytale analysis#gretel#fairytale witch#the gingerbread house witch#grimm fairytales#german fairytales#the brothers grimm#hansel#birds in fairytales
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The Tale of Turmeric, or Löwenzahn
Extracted from the broader fic in which he is but one character.
Once upon a time, there was an old woman.
No, this gives the wrong impression. The old woman is still there, like many of her kind, keepers of knowledge—and therefore power—far beyond mortal men. The old woman was—is—a witch.
In a time—a darker time, perhaps—a meaner time, certainly, the time when magic existed openly in the world, before cold iron, hot powder, and clean penstrokes banished it to shadowed corners and liminal spaces—there was a woodcutter. Woodcutters and their children seemed to be rather prone to strange happenstances at that time, as it were, and so, he loved, and married, and his wife bore him two children.
You know this story, don't you? The two children were named Hänsel and Gretel. The first a boy, the second a girl. Their mother died, and their stepmother, in the manner of stepmothers of this sort, found them expendable when famine struck, and left them in the woods and the hands of fate. Of course, in the manner of all children left in the woods, they did not die. The first time, they found their way back home; the second time, lost deep in the dark forest, they found their way to a house. A wondrous house! One of gingerbread and icing, spun sugar and tempered chocolate. Driven by hunger, these two children ate, and for their crimes, the brother was imprisoned, to pay back with flesh what he had unlawfully taken (for witches have their own laws, see, alien to us though they may seem); the sister indentured, to work off her debt by feeding her penned brother and keeping the witch's house.
You know what happened. The brother endured—the passive sort of endurance, bearing captivity and confinement and the knowledge of his impending death, forced to watch his sister suffer. The sister endured—the active sort of endurance, biting down on rebellion and too-telling inquisitiveness and the fear of the fate in store for her brother, forced to comport herself despite her hands being forced to bring their doom. In the end, the sister's ingenuity, coupled with courage, defeated the witch and won the siblings their freedom.
This is when the story starts being wrong. Witches are feared by men, and men react to their fears with fire. No witch worth her spells can be harmed by it, not if she has any love of life. But Gretel had won the house and its contents by right of conquest, so the witch could not—would not either—oppose the girl further. The children left. The witch left also, to build another house of cakes and cookies.
The children grew up, and had children of their own, who had children in turn, allowing memory to fade to mere myth, as they lived their mundane lives. Yet their ancestors had supped at a table of what they would call a Hexe, and that marked their blood as changed. Touched by witchcraft—a very attractive quality, for certain other creatures.
Uncounted generations passed. The witch checked on the descendants of the siblings who bested her, sometimes. Call it curiosity, call it concern, call it a combination of the two. It was only natural for her to hear the news of one of them being taken by the Courts. Seelie. They had a fascination for the simple innocence of children, as great as the Unseelie love of adults' complexity of emotion. The witch watched as the mother went to treat with the Court, as such things went—and if the way to the Good Neighbors was so easily found, what of it? If the woman found two iron knitting needles in her pack, what of it? If a red riding hood could be found beneath a tree, if a wolf would startle the woman from her enchanted stupor, if a hoary crone gave her a flask of some vital substance for the price of a mere story, what of it?
These too-fair folk had changed since the days when Janet could save her knight by waiting at a crossroads and not letting go. Though the woman saved her child, she lost her life.
The old woman had cradled the infant in its swaddling, and laughed away all the fair lords and ladies who cooed endearments and dripped sympathy with honeyed voices, then tramped back to her new gingerbread house.
The baby had been fed with goat's milk and bread sops, watched over by skulls glowing with fire within. He grew up riding in a mortar and pestle, stirring mysterious concoctions and knitting cotton candy to sweaters for gingerbread children (there was an episode during which he thought himself one of them, and was deathly afraid of water and foxes both). There had been no one to return the boy to, and so he was raised by three riders, of the sun, night, and day, two witches, one tall and thin, the other plump and stout, and a single great wolf, taller than he.
He learned strange things, in his childhood years: guard your name carefully, give it to no one. True love is potent beyond measure, though it need not be born from Cupid's arrow-prick. Evil stepparents get their comeuppance. And you could not truly live if you spent your life as a boy in fairyland (although as his first human friend, who would become the woman called Oregano, demonstrated, it wasn’t as if spending your childhood in the real world was a more rewarding experience).
What his guardians forgot to teach, perhaps thinking the truth self-evident, was that the names your loved ones called you had just as much weight as the one you were born with.
It would have warned him, thought Turmeric ruefully, to beware the Young Lion when his Oma had, in lieu of his name, called him Löwenzahn.
#khr#CEDEF#cedef headcanons#Turmeric khr#fae#fairytales#hansel and gretel#according to the wiki Turmeric's German#so the witch of the gingerbread house calls him dandelion in german#AKA lion's teeth#she's lovers with Baba Yaga#they met when Baba Yaga's chicken-footed house tried to eat her gingerbread one
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Kinkmas (11)- The Grinch Who Stole Her Heart
Wanda X Reader 18+
Summary: When a certain witch discovers your hate for Christmas, she can't help but try her best into convincing you to love the festive season.
Word Count: 10.8k
Warnings/Tags: Friends to Lovers, Slow burn, Fluff, Domestic Avengers, Christmas Fluff, Flirting, Crushes, Mutual Pining, Christmas Decorating, Gingerbread houses, Ice Skating, Snowball Fights, Soft Smut, First time, Inexperienced Wanda/Experienced Reader, Fingering, Praise, Confessions, Aftercare
Kinkmas Masterlist
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Gentle chatter and a tranquil, festive atmosphere wrapped around the common room of the compound like a warm, cosy blanket, most of the team bunched up on various sofas with snacks ready in hand, waiting for Wanda to finally press the play button to start Home Alone on the big screen.
The witch, however, was not ready to start the movie, her eyes flickering over the content and excited faces of the team, searching for one individual in particular.
You.
Where were you?
"Where's Y/n?" Wanda asked, puzzled, the soft murmur in the room going quiet, curious and confused gazes meeting one another at the brunette's question, apprehensive to tell the truth.
Natasha carefully placed down the bowl of popcorn that was in her lap, inadvertently stopping Clint from stealing more of the treat which made him grumble a little, the redhead looking between the rest of the team, not wanting to dampen the young woman's mood.
It had become abundantly clear over the last few days and since the start of December that Wanda was in love with the idea of Christmas and all the festive traditions, the team having tried their best to keep you away from her, despite the witch subconsciously seeking you out, her mind unable to explain why her heart would flutter in your presence, her mood always being lifted by you.
"Y/n isn't a 'fan' of Christmas," Natasha cautiously phrases her words, not wanting to ruin the mood that was so gratefully appreciated in the room, the uplifted mood of Christmas enabling the mighty Avengers to have some time to relax and spend together as a family.
"What?" Wanda's tone signalling her confusion at how someone could possibly not like Christmas, her head tilting in her usual manner, Pietro speeding from the sofa to stand with his sister, seemingly just as baffled.
"How can she not be a fan of Christmas?" Pietro adds, just as obsessed with the festive season as his sister, his love for it being driven by the sheer amount of food and presents though.
"She just..." Natasha trails off, thinking how to explain your lack of jolliness, her eyes flickering to Clint for a little help. The archer simply shrugs, her leg kicking back at his shin for his lack of usefulness, a small yelp escaping him as he grabs the popcorn bowl, deciding that the food would be a sufficient apology from her.
"She hates it," Tony bluntly puts it, everyone's head turning from the sofas to the billionaire in the kitchen, fixing himself a ridiculously large hot chocolate in the beautifully decorated kitchen, annoyance written across Steve and Natasha's face as they wanted to keep it a peaceful evening.
"She doesn't 'hate' it," Steve tries to reason, his blue eyes flickering towards Sam and Bucky who are disinterested in what's going on, most likely bickering between themselves over who gets more room on the sofa.
"Oh come on Capsicle," Tony teases, Steve's cheeks darkening at the nickname the man uses for him, mumbling under his breath an 'oh god' at the billionaire's mischievous tone. "She hates it. End of. We've all tried to get her to like it but she just refuses to enjoy the Christmas spirit," he says whilst placing his steaming mug down, flopping onto his section of the sofa and asking Friday to lower the lights, wanting to watch the film now. "Now, are we going to watch the film or not?" He asks, clearly not bothered by your absence.
"Not all of us have tried," Wanda says after a moment, tossing the remote to Natasha, hoping she'd somehow keep the boys in check, knowing the chaos the entire team could cause without her magic there to stop objects flying across the room. "Start the film without me," Wanda calls out, walking out of the room, determined to find your room and figure out a way to persuade you into falling in love with the magical season.
Despite not figuring out a plan, the brunette knocks on your door with purpose, waiting outside for you to open up, various thoughts flooding through her mind as she impatiently plays with the rings on her fingers.
Eventually, you open your bedroom door, your brow raising at her current outfit, a smug smirk creeping onto your lips. The Christmas themed pyjamas amused you as you let your eyes wander down the various festive items decorating the fabric, the red and green chequered pants slightly too long for her as they pooled around her ankles, the fluffy socks further entertaining you as you stood in a simple, thin shirt and joggers, a stark contrast to her holiday themed get up.
"What-"
"Why do you hate Christmas?" she asks, enticing green eyes gazing into yours curiously, your eyes widening at her forward question, a soft chuckle escaping you, Wanda unable to stop the swarm of butterflies in her stomach at the sound.
"Why do you love Christmas?" You counter, leaning against the door frame as you see various emotions flicker across her face, your features softening at her adorably annoyed state.
"Why do I love Christmas?" She repeats almost shocked, still baffled at the whole ordeal, "It's just magical," her tone laced with the love she has for the time of year. "It's a time to spend with family, to give gifts, to have fun with silly traditions," she lists, watching closely to your reactions as your soft expression remains uninterested.
"Just seems like a lot of effort to me," you casually say, her brows furrowing at your words, mouth parting and closing, unsure of what to say. "Is that all you wanted to ask? I'm currently in the middle of a mission report," your tone is annoyingly soft and calm, determination brewing in Wanda to show you how amazing Christmas was but still unsure how.
"No, I..." she trails off for a moment, tilting her head marginally to the side as she thinks hard about how to convince you. "Do you really hate it?" She asks, tone trying her best to hide the disappointment that filled her, your smile softening, body pushing yourself off the frame of the door to look at her properly, still amused at her clothing.
"It's just not for me, Wanda," your tone apologetic as you gathered how much she loved the season, your heart clenching a little at the despondent look that took over her face, wishing you could ensure a smile was always on her lips, only ever wanting her to be happy.
"Ok," she whispers, slowly nodding at your words and turning around to retreat to where the rest of the team was, a sudden idea entering her mind as she hears you shutting the door. "Give me one week," her tone desperate and rushed as your hand halted, opening the door with a confused look, laughing softly as she quickly walked back over to the door, fluffy socks sliding a little on the smooth floor.
"What?" your tone matches the curiosity engraved on your face, smile widening at the glint of hope in her eyes.
"Give me one week to show you how magical Christmas is," she explains further, her enchanting green eyes almost putting you under a spell, part of you contemplating giving into her despite your dislike for everything about December 25th. Your face shows your conflicted state, Wanda taking your delayed response as a win, her nose scrunching up in a way that has your heart beating wildly in your chest, an inexplicable onrush of affection flowing through you. "Please?" she adds, excitement creeping into he tone as you sigh out heavily, unable to resist the soft spot you had for her, a smile gracing your features.
"One week," you begrudgingly say, a smile still present on your face though as her lips stretch into a wide grin, joy filling her as various ideas flood through her mind, ready to warm you up to the season.
***
"I'm not so sure you're trying to convince me," you mutter, lifting the heavy box of decorations and trudging your way towards her room, "I feel like you're just using me for slave labour," you grumble, peaking over the box to watch your step, bumping into the corner of the door frame before dropping the box onto the floor, a rattle of baubles filling the room.
"If you stopped complaining and acting like the grinch this would be a whole lot easier," she teases, crouching down and opening the box, looking up at you with a small smirk that has you rolling your eyes, happiness taking over your chest as you follow her command.
"The grinch is an icon," you mumble, flickering your gaze away from the aesthetic decorations in the box and into her alluring green, finding them far more interesting than the shiny plastic objects.
"Yeah? And why is that?" Her tone is playful and cheerful, eliciting an involuntary smile from you as you struggle to maintain your composure near her, the crush you thought you had gotten over seeming to resurface, her brow raising expectantly as she waits for you to continue.
"He lives in a mountain with his dog, away from people, sounds like heaven to me," your tone slightly sarcastic, earning a soft laughter from her, her eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. Her gaze drifts away from you as her own heart starts to beat wildly in her chest at being able to spend time with you, her lips pulling up into a shy smile. "And he's green," you add, a humorous grin taking over your face, cracking her composure.
A giggle leaves her lips at your tone, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she tries to stifle her laugh, her eyes meeting yours with an amused glimmer in them, your smile widening as warmth floods through you in a tender manner.
"What's so special about the colour green?" She manages to ask when she stops laughing, entertained by your words, reluctantly turning her back away from you as she moves towards the tree in her room with a bundle of lights, beckoning you over as she untangles them, wanting your help to decorate her room as she hadn't had time to do it yet.
It's the colour of your eyes is what you initially think of saying, a small blush appearing on your cheeks as you rethink an answer, grateful she wasn't looking at you as you thought it, her head soon looking back over her shoulder as you don't answer.
"I don't know," you unconvincingly respond, shoulders shrugging, "It's just a cool colour." Wanda chuckles, clearly not believing your vague answer as she looks at your form over her shoulder, playfully shaking her head before continuing to wrap the lights around the pine tree while you gradually make your way over to her, your attention flickering over to her desk.
"Oh my god," you laugh out, admiring the framed photograph of Wanda and Pietro dressed up for Halloween in Sokovia, chuckling at their ridiculous outfits. "Pietro looks like Fury with that eye patch," you snicker out, Wanda rushing over to you and sliding the photo out of your hands, embarrassed by her toothy grin in it, a smile still on her face as she hears your genuine laugh, her gaze moving to the photo of her and her brother that she always loved.
"He wanted to be his own version of a pirate," she explains with a nostalgic tone, placing down the photo while you just admire her features, getting lost in thought again, the feelings you tried to bury trying their best to take over you as you simply smile at her softly, a tender expression taking over her face at your enamoured gaze.
"I bet he was just as annoying as a child as he is now," you tease, making her laugh again, your heart melting at being able to hear the sound again, the brunette placing an ornament in your hand to stop you procrastinating, sensing your attempt at stalling her plans.
"Even more," she jokes, her fingers brushing over yours softly, the touch engraved in your memory as they pull away from you, Wanda snapping you out of your thoughts as she continues. "Now come on, we have a tree to decorate," her tone adding excitement to it as you let out a displeased grumble, still smiling at her though.
Maybe, just maybe, the next week wasn't going to be as bad as you thought.
***
"I hope you know I'm only here because you promised me food," you mumble whilst your hand supports your head as you sit at the kitchen island, eyes wandering around the various decorations littered around the room then towards the woman in front of you, observing how she rolls out the gingerbread.
A soft, genuine smile takes over her face in amusement, her gaze lifting to meet your form watching her attentively, chuckling softly as she continues to measure out the dimensions for the house she intended on making, a playful and teasing expression taking over her angelic features.
"Is that so?" she asks, slicing through the dough she's rolled to create the walls of the house, your eyes trained on the deft way her fingers move, gaze lifting to watch her concentrate, in awe of her working. You knew Wanda loved to cook and bake, but to watch her properly, almost intimately, made you truly appreciate her love for the hobby.
"Yep," you say while popping the 'p', smiling at the way she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, a streak of powdered sugar visible against her skin, your teeth biting down on your lip to stop yourself from laughing at her cute state.
"Well if someone wants to eat they have to help," her tone reprimanding you for not helping her at all so far.
"I've helped," you say, pretending to take offence as she uses her magic to softly push you off the stool at the kitchen island, a small groan leaving you as you eventually wander around the kitchen to stand next to her. "Does moral support not mean anything anymore?" you mutter as she hands you a spoon, your fake mood crumbling away at the way she peers up at you with a raised brow, the streak of sugar making you smile.
"What?" she laughs out when you end up staring at her forehead too long, a nervous expression on her face as you grab a cloth from the countertop and delicately wipe away the mess on her skin, her cheeks a similar colour to her magic as she tries to control her emotions, a shy smile taking over her features as you meet her gaze with an affectionate look.
"There's my contribution," you joke, tossing the cloth back onto the countertop as Wanda sees the small smear of powdered sugar on the fabric, the wave of embarrassment never coming as you continue to smile at her, her head shaking at your antics.
"You're not getting out of it that easy," she chuckles out, setting up the bowl for you to make the icing in, handing you everything you'd need before checking on the gingerbread that was in the oven, making sure everything was going to plan.
After you've made the icing and the dough is baked to perfection as well as having cooled down, Wanda starts to put together the house with your help, deciding to ask Friday to help encourage the festive spirit by getting them to play the witch's Christmas playlist, an amused glint present in your eyes as you picture her listening to the music on her own, most likely dancing to each tune.
Your fingers carefully hold the wall of gingerbread, Wanda delicately piping the icing along the edges to help stabilise the structure, the smell of the freshly made treat making your mouth yearn to taste the delicious flavours, the other woman humming the tune to the song that was playing as you assembled the house together. Quicker than you expected, you had the house made and just in need of decorating, your gaze now on Wanda who softly sang the lyrics to 'Last Christmas', a mischievous smile taking over your face.
As if sensing your gaze on her, she met your admiring stare, her smile stretching that little bit wider as she lifts the spoon from the icing bowl, using it as a microphone as she keeps her enchanting eyes on you.
"Tell me, baby, do you recognise me?" she sings, her voice angelic as you can't help but watch in awe as she subtly dances near you, walking behind your body and enticing you to follow her. "Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me," her gentle voice sounding around the room, blessing your ears as she sings the iconic song, "'Happy Christmas', I wrapped it up and sent it, with a note saying 'I love you' I meant it, now I know what a fool I've been." Her words further lure you into being amazed by her, your body turning once again to follow her movements, her body next to yours as she places the bowls she's just collected on the countertop, her eyes lifting up to meet your enamoured gaze, "But if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again." Your breath hitches at the way her eyes subconsciously drift to your lips before flickering back up, the soft, loving glint evident in her eyes as the gaze lingers, her only breaking the gaze when the desire to kiss you becomes too strong.
"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart but the very next day-"
"You sold it on ebay," you interrupt, a teasing smile on your lips as you steal the piping bag from her, a laugh spilling from her lips at your immature behaviour. "This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to Marks and Spencers," her hand lightly slaps your arm as you 'ruined' the chorus for her, her smile almost reaching her ears though at the pure joy you managed to fill her with, your arms raising in surrender as you see wisps of magic flicker at her fingers, knowing how she could torture you with ticklish sensations like she did a couple days ago when decorating the tree. "Ok, ok," you laugh out in surrender as the red tendrils brush over your skin, "Tesco extra instead of Marks and Spencers?"
She simply smacks you lightly once again on the shoulder, her hand lingering against your body before pulling back, rolling her eyes at your amused and smug smile, cheekily squeezing a little of the icing onto your finger to taste it.
"Mhmm delicious," you softly moan at the sweet treat, exaggerating your love for the simple food you made, Wanda stealing the bag back from you and pointing it at you like it was a weapon.
"Stop eating all the decorations," she mutters, using her magic to push away the bowl full of sprinkles, laughing softly at the way your hand misses and hits the table, a small pout forming on your lips.
"Fine," you grumble as she hands you the piping bag back, letting you have full reign on decorating the gingerbread house, something she'd inevitably regret.
***
A couple hours later you're sprawled out against the sofa, a bowl of the broken gingerbread house in your lap as you tilt your head to look at Wanda, once again admiring her features while she was fully immersed in whatever was playing on the tv.
Your eyes focus on each delicate feature of her face, trailing over the slight dust of pink on her cheeks, a few strands of brunette locks framing her face perfectly and the gentle slope of her nose before spending a little more time admiring her plump lips and eventually settling on her mesmerising eyes. Your heart clenched a little at her beauty, your gaze eventually being torn away from her as you knew you shouldn't think of her as more of a friend, to get lost in fantasy of what it would feel like to be with her all over again as you remember the pain of pushing it all down.
The soft giggle that left her lips immediately knocked you out of your thoughts, the smile that seemed ever present near her emerging once again as you raised your brow at her when you met her gaze, her nose scrunching in that captivating manner as red wisps form at the tips of her fingers once again.
"I thought we were going to share the gingerbread," She teases lightly, using her magic to steal a piece from you, your hand wrapping protectively around your bowl of treats.
"Woah, this is mine Maximoff," you defensively say, using her surname playfully, addicted to the taste of the icing you used to cover most of the crisp gingerbread, the aim of your decorations to give you a sugar overload. "I decorated it," you mumble, squinting your eyes at her when she floats over a larger piece from the bowl in faux annoyance, your hands placing the bowl down as there way no way you'd be able to stop her magic, your eyes watching with interest how the red tendrils delicately flow through the air.
"And I made it," she counters, biting into the corner of the roof, a pleased noise escaping her at the taste of it, the festive spirit further consuming her as the taste brings back many memories of past Christmases, a nostalgic look taking over her face momentarily.
"I thought you were trying to convince me to like Christmas," you joke as you lean back against the sofa, eyes trained on her as she raises her brow at your relaxed manner, continuing to eat her piece of gingerbread.
"I am, is it working?" She asks, smiling at you hopefully, her enthralling green solely focused on you making it hard to think straight and come up with your usual sarcastic remark. You pause for a moment, Wanda's head tilting in curiosity as you remain silent, a small blush forming on your cheeks as you gather yourself together.
"It would be if I got to eat all the gingerbread," you tease eventually, switching your gaze to something other than her alluring beauty, eyes landing on the various sweets stuck on the white icing.
"Is it actually working though?" She asks again, voice holding a more serious and intrigued tone compared to her joking tone, her green containing a hint of nerves as she really hoped it was.
Your mouth opens and closes to respond, unsure of what to say. If you were being honest, you didn't love the festive season any more, you simply enjoyed the last three days because you were with her.
"It hasn't changed my opinion on Christmas," you say softly, her face dropping a little making you continue, "But, I have had so much fun over the last few days, I... I've really enjoyed spending time with you," you fix her mood instantly, a blush taking over her face this time, her gaze flickering away from you, teeth biting down softly on her lower lip to try and contain her smile.
"Yeah?" she murmurs out a little timidly, gathering the courage to meet your softening gaze once more, the two of you smiling at each other, unaware of the swirling emotions in both of you. "Well still I've got four more days to fix that," she says, tone determined and adamant that she would persuade you, your smile growing that little bit wider at her confidence, part of you hoping she was right just to see that smile on her face.
***
"I'm not so sure about this Wanda," your voice a little shaky as your fingers grip the edge of the wall as tightly as possible, the ice skates you were wearing sliding on the ice in a manner than unnerved you, your eyes lifting to find Wanda only to see her skating off skilfully, turning back to you with a teasing look.
"Come on, I promise it's fun," she calls back, swarms of people brushing past you, further adding to your nerves as you hated how unstable you felt, her green eyes meeting yours through the crowd, sensing how uncomfortable you felt.
You watched a little embarrassed as she effortlessly skated over to you, the sound of screaming children nearby and the scratching of ice being blocked out as she comes closer to you, a different kind of anxiety flowing through you at her little smirk.
"Is the infamous Y/n, world hero and Avenger, scared of ice skating?" she teases softly, your eyes rolling at her comment. Just because you were an Avenger didn't mean you enjoyed activities like this.
"No..." you trailed off, your foot slipping slightly, Wanda watching how your body immediately tensed, knuckles bleeding white at your grip on the edge of the wall, her hand moving to your lower back to keep you stable, wanting to make sure you were alright. "Maybe just a little," you confess quietly, hoping she wouldn't find it a problem, her smile turning a little sympathetic. "It's scary ok? Steve got stuck in ice for like seventy plus years in it so it must be very dangerous," you explain, a genuine laugh slipping past her lips at your reasoning.
"It was only sixty six years," she corrects, your head shaking a little at her words, your mind processing where her hand was, a wave of butterflies taking over your body as your fingers adjust their grip on the cold edge.
"Do you trust me?" Her voice a gentle whisper, your mind focussing on her, only her as she looks at you as if you were the only thing going on in the ice rink, your head nodding as you couldn't muster any words to leave your mouth, far too nervous to not embarrass yourself any further.
Her hands gently clasp yours, her fingers intimately interlocking with yours, her soft gaze meeting your hesitant one, her feet guiding her backwards as she slides across the ice, pulling you carefully with her.
"Bend your knees a little," she instructs, trying to guide you into the best position so you wouldn't fall. You try to listen to her but the feeling of her impossibly soft hands in yours makes all common sense leave your mind, your body just about listening to her instructions. "Don't lean too far forwards if you don't want to fall," she playfully whispers, keeping you close to her as she can tell it's keeping you calm, her intoxicating perfume reaching your senses and further drowning you in the thought of her. "That's it," she praises softly, a small smile reaching your lips as you skate slightly on your own, still tightly gripping onto her, not that she minded.
The two of you did a few laps around the ring, your grip on her gradually decreasing as your confidence grew, the two of you stopping by a wall to relax for a moment, your cheeks and noses tinted pink from the cold room, smiles engraved on both of your faces.
Your smile widens when you see a child fall over, a snicker leaving your lips as you can't help it, Wanda playfully pushing you at your reaction, reprimanding your behaviour as the mother briefly looks over towards you two in annoyance, her child's face pulling into distress. Panic flashes across your face as you slip a little, your arm shooting out to wrap around hers, pulling yourself into her body, flush against her, making both of your blushes darken a little, her arm wrapping around you to keep you upright.
"Don't," you mumble when you feel her laugh against you, your body melting against hers as she keeps you stable and secure, her body also helping you keep warm.
"Don't what? Tease you?" She chuckles out, your head turning to meet her amused and mischievous gaze, breath hitching a little as you underestimated the space between you, your lips mere inches away from hers, both of your gazes drifting down to one another's mouths.
The heat that washes over you when her slightly darkened green meet yours causes you to straighten your back, pulling yourself further away from her face, your hand hesitantly reaching further down her arm to her fingers, interlocking them once again to try and keep your thoughts on anything but the longing to feel her lips on yours, a brief moment of courage washing through you when she doesn't pull back.
"I won't tease you," she whispers out once she's gotten control over her pounding heart, her cheeks still tinted pink as she smiles at your hand holding hers, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand, grateful for you being braver than her and initiating something. "But that doesn't mean I won't tell Nat," a soft laugh leaves you as you meet her eyes once more, sensing the mirth in them as she imagined the various ways the Russian would torment you.
"I'm never going to hear the end of it," you mumble, her nose scrunching at your tone, the action making you think it was worth any amount of teasing comments that Natasha could throw at you, the warmth that wrapped around your heart at her expression worth anything in the world as she drags you away from the wall again, skating with you, hand in hand.
***
A relentless pounding at your door has you reluctantly rolling out of bed, in dire need of a nap after the new workout Natasha wanted to try with you, your body ready to sink into your soft mattress and relax for just a little bit.
"You better have some more gingerbread," you mutter as you hear Wanda call your name through the door, your hand turning your door handle and opening, revealing the woman who consumed all your thoughts. "What-" A thick winter coat was thrown at you, your body not expecting the item making you take a step back, your eyes widening at Wanda in confusion as you properly took a hold of the clothing item, the coat a contrast to your oversized shirt and joggers.
"Do you wanna build a snowman?" she sings in a teasing voice, a groan leaving your lips at the movie reference, a tired sigh leaving your lips.
"I just wanna sleep," you whine out as she simply walks into your room as you turn away, smiling at the way you still comply to her question, searching through your wardrobe for a thick jumper and pants, not wanting to freeze in the cold as snowflakes gracefully spilled from the sky, the grass surrounding the compound drowning in the white blanket of snow.
"You can sleep later," her tone amused at the way you shake your head at her, amazed at the way she has you wrapped around her finger as you shrug on the coat she tossed you, turning your head and sending a pointed look.
"This better be worth it," you mumble, her body coming closer to yours and fixing your hood as it was sticking out weird, her cold fingers brushing the back of your neck causing you to wake up a little more.
"Spending time with me is always worth it," she whispers, recalling how you confessed to her how you enjoyed being with her, a smile creeping onto your lips as you chuckle at her words, her eyes peering up into yours as you let her fix your outfit, unable to stop the warmth bubbling inside you.
"That is true," you murmur ever so softly, her smile widening as she lets her hands drift to your shoulders to smooth the coat out, growing in confidence near you after being together for the last four days constantly. "But sleep is pretty amazing too," you mumble, earning her signature nose scrunch, your heart beating that little bit faster at the enamoured look in her eyes.
"Come on," she sighs out, walking behind you and pushing you towards the door, struggling a little as you use your strength to keep you planted.
"Save me bed! She's trying to kidnap me," you call out dramatically, chuckling as she uses her magic to push you out of the door, you calling out of your bed once more, earning another string of laughter from her as she leads you out of the compound, walking side by side with you, letting your bodies brush.
A chill takes over your body as you trudge your way through the snow that's piling up, the sound of satisfying crunches and nearby birds filling the air as you let Wanda lead you to the best place to build her desired snowman. You watch with an affectionate gaze at her thick gloves and the scarf that's wrapped so tightly around her neck, the bobble hat that she stole from you moving with each step she takes, her head looking her shoulder at you, her smile almost reaching her ears.
You follow her until she stops, deciding this was the best location to build it, her eyes looking back at the compound and ensuring you'd be able to see it from the large window in the common room, unaware of the redhead and archer sitting peacefully together, curious as to what you two were doing, a glint of realisation flickering across Natasha's face.
Unable to stop yourself, you give into the temptation of crouching down in the snow, grabbing a handful of it and moulding it into the shape of a large snowball, trying to perfect the shape to make it easier to throw.
"Hey Wanda?" You call out innocently, lining up your shot as you wait for her to turn around, her eyes glimmering with joy before widening, unable to move out of the way as the snow crashes against her body, exploding into various fragments of white dust, a gasp leaving her lips.
You can't help but laugh wholeheartedly at her reaction, an uncontrollable laughter escaping you as happiness consumes you entirely, shock present on her face to begin with before revenge takes over, taking advantage of your distracted state and grabbing a handful of snow, ready to throw it back at you.
Your laughter is interrupted when she headshots you with the snowball, disbelief evident on your face as her smile grows smug, a dangerous chuckle leaving you making her smile slowly fade, mischief evident on your face. At your expression, Wanda starts to run, laughter spilling from her lips as she gets a head start, your legs swiftly moving to catch up with her.
"Oh no you don't," you call out, your smile engraved on your face as you chase after, using your abilities to help you catch up to her. You can't stop the genuine laughter that escapes you as you dodge the snowballs her magic throws at you blindly, your body gradually catching up to her, inching closer as the two of you trample through the snow like idiots, not caring about anything else in the world but one another. Eventually, your arm wraps around her middle, pulling her closer to your body as you grab a load of snow with your other hand, intending on dropping it on her head, your plan not working as you both go tumbling in the snow, laughter still sounding around the two of you. "Gotcha," you chuckle out as you land on top of her, her hands holding onto your shoulders as your body is flush against hers, your hand cupping the back of her head protectively and the other bracing your body above hers.
Her breath gently fans across your face as you both pant a little from the sudden running, your eyes getting lost in hers as she smiles up at you angelically, your gaze eventually drifting across her features, still stunned by her beauty. Your gaze settles on her lips, watching how she subtly wets her lower lip before her teeth gently bite down on it, your eyes flickering up to her softening green, building up to ask her the question you've wanted to for ages.
"Can.... Can I kiss you?" your voice a barely audible whisper, the sound of your heart pounding against your ribcage deafening in your ears as you await a response, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering vigorously.
"Took you long enough to ask," she murmurs playfully, having heard your thoughts about her eyes all those days ago, piecing together that you may have felt the same way about her as she did towards you.
Her fingers fisted against the hem of your coat and pulled you down into her body, claiming your lips in the way you both longed for. You kissed her tenderly, her lips pressing over yours just as affectionately, the cold tip of her nose brushing against yours as you got lost in the moment together. Your eyes fluttered shut to savour the feeling of her mouth, how gentle and soft it was as you weren't guaranteed another chance, another kiss, so you forced your racing thoughts to stop for a moment as your lips moved against hers lovingly, wanting to engrave the feeling into your mind forever. The kiss was shy and timid, your lips remaining together for mere seconds, but the intimacy of it made your head spin with the thought of her. The thought of her body pressed against yours, her mouth pressed against yours, forehead leaning against yours and arms pulling you impossibly closer, it was all too much. You were utterly mesmerised by her. Everything just felt so pure, sogenuine, so... intimate that it made you sigh gently into her mouth, pulling back with nothing but love evident in your eyes as she matched your tender gaze, just as obsessed with you as you were her.
"I told you this would be worth it," she whispers against you, her lips gently brushing yours, enticing you into gently claiming hers once more, smiling into her mouth.
"It really was," you murmur lovingly against her, her head hiding against your shoulder as she can't stop the wide smile appearing on her face, her nose scrunching up once more as you melt against her body, joy coursing through you at what just happened.
She kissed you.
You actually just kissed her.
A wave of giddiness overtook you as you grinned at her when she pulled back from your body, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes as her hands left your body, your mind paying no attention to it as she looked at you in that adoring manner, consuming your thoughts.
What you didn't expect was to feel snow hitting the back of your head, an adorable laugh leaving her at her playful actions, disbelief evident on your face. The feeling of betrayal immediately left you at the heavenly noise that spills delicately from her, your head shaking to remove the snow in your hair as she cups your cheek, guiding you back down for an apologetic kiss, the two of you unable to stop smiling.
Another individual who couldn't stop smiling was Natasha who watched the scene unfold through the window with Clint, glad that you finally acted on your crush and helped her win the bet with the archer. He grumbled as he reached for his wallet, searching for the desired note as a sigh of relief left the redhead when you started to walk hand in hand through the snow, finding somewhere else to finally build the snowman.
***
Humming to yourself, you found yourself in Wanda's room again, this time sprawled out of her bed, waiting for the witch to return with the snacks for the movie night she planned for you. It was going to be a Christmas marathon, starting with Home Alone one and two, then onto the Grinch so Wanda could tease you about your 'icon' and then finally Elf as she was sure you'd be asleep by then, having discovered how much you loved to lay in bed yesterday when you fell asleep during the first attempt at the marathon, much to her amusement. This time, however, she planned to keep you awake with food and potentially a cuddle as the two of you swiftly discovered how much you both craved physical touch, even if it was something small like holding hands, a smile growing on her lips as she enters the room, remembering the various instances of you subtly reaching for her hand and interlocking your fingers.
A soft chuckle leaves her lips at the way your head raises off the bed at the sound of the door shutting, your eyes growing curious when you see the bowl in her hands, instantly perking up and eager to know what she brought. When your eyes saw the popcorn in the bowl, your smile widened, moving around on her bed so that your back was against the pillow at the headboard, arm raising to welcome her body against your side, the other woman complying to your silent request.
The feeling of her body snuggling against yours caused a grin to break out on your face, your heart unable to comprehend the sheer joy you felt over the last few days, grateful for her making such an impact on your life.
"You're incredible," you murmur softly when she places the bowl into your lap, your lips pressing to her temple, the art of being affectionate with one another natural to you both.
"Are you only saying that because I brought food?" she teases, carefully picking up a piece of the sweet and salty treat and placing it into her mouth, her head tilting to rest against your shoulder as she uses her magic to bring the remote closer to you both, her hand effortlessly grabbing it and starting the first film of the night.
"No, I'm saying that because you are the most amazing and beautiful woman I know," you whisper against her hair, earning a blush at your charming words. "Who just happens to always bring me food," you add teasingly, earning a playful pinch to your side, a small yelp leaving you.
"Shhh, just watch the film Detka," she murmurs, your smile widening at the endearment, not commenting on it as she shuffles her body closer to you, her fingers playing with whatever part of your shirt she can reach as the two of you delve into the world of Christmas cinema, content with being one another.
As the film plays on, without even realising it, your hand rests on her thigh, tracing idle patterns against the thin fabric of her pyjama pants, Wanda's cheeks a similar colour to her festive clothing as her thoughts go down a sinful route. She can't help the warmth that pools between her thighs at your actions, your hand high up on her thigh as your toned body presses into her, her mind replaying the image of you working out earlier, the way your body effortlessly showed signs of strength and stamina, her eyes having a hard time from tearing away from your hands, watching as your veins showed slightly, further adding to the arousal that started to build within her as she got lost in thought.
Hesitantly, she tilted her head to rest at the crook of your neck, her lips softly pressing a kiss there as she knew you weren't paying attention to the film, your thoughts growing louder as you replay all your memories with the brunette, the overwhelming amount of happiness and love you felt allowing the witch to hear them. To try and gain your attention, she pressed another kiss to your neck, your breath hitching at the action as your hand freezes at her thigh, her lips burning against your skin as your body grows warmer at her suggestive move.
"Detka," she sighs out, her breath fanning across your skin as she pulls back from your neck, her green eyes meeting yours, desire but also nervousness shimmering them.
"Yes?" you whisper out, gaze subconsciously drifting to her lips, remembering how addictive they are, your own eyes darkening as your gaze lingers, unable to look at anything else.
"I don't think either of us are watching the film," her voice is barely audible as she murmurs the words, tilting her head slightly, the action causing her lips to inch closer to yours, the movement subtly seductive as you wait for her to make the move, sensing a bit of indecision from her.
"I don't think we are," your tone lowering a little, patiently waiting for her, not wanting her to do anything she'd regret.
"I wonder what else we could possibly do..." she trails off, smiling a little shyly, biting down on her lower lip and fuck, you don't think you've ever felt so hot before, the sight of her intoxicating, making it impossible to think straight.
"I have no idea," you whisper back with a small smirk, tilting your head down so that your lips were brushing over hers gently, not applying enough pressure to give her what she wanted, your eyes watching how hers flutter shut, awaiting your mouth. "What do you suggest?"
"I think... I think we should kiss," she rasps out, moving her body so that she was facing you properly, your brow raising a little at her words as your smile grows, fingers moving to brush back a few stray strands of her hair back, eventually letting your hand rest on her cheek, cupping her jaw and bringing her a little closer.
Your eyes flicker over all of her features, admiring them all while waiting for her to lower her face, the brunette only doing so marginally, mirroring your actions and wanting to memorise every inch of your beauty.
It feels like you're waiting an eternity until she lowers her face even more, her lips barely putting any pressure on yours as they briefly brush over them. Your eyes flutter close when you feel her hands cup your jaw, waiting for her to kiss you, to crash her lips to yours, to do anything at this point as you just wait, wait and wait.
When she feels like she's admired you enough and savoured the moment, she kisses you. She kisses you softly and tentatively to begin with as you explore each other's mouths, her actions soon growing a little more confident as the kiss grows hungrier, Wanda seemingly starved of you. It's intimate, it's desperate, it's passionate. It's everything you dreamed it to be.
You can't do anything but give into her relentless mouth, hand clutching at her sweater to ground yourself as all you can think of is her lips moving against yours, her body pressed up against yours, her soft fingers threading through your hair, just her.
A soft moan leaves her when you guide her to straddle your lap, heat immediately taking over her body, your touch burning into her skin as arousal pools between her legs at the feeling of your body pressed against hers, strong arms wrapping around her, a sensual sigh escaping you as when she pulls back from the kiss, eyes darkening with desire as you peer up into the green, a shameless smile on your lips.
"I think we should do that again," you tease, leaning in for another kiss as she smiles against you, her confidence growing with every kiss, every peck in between laboured breaths as her hands move to your shoulders momentarily, gliding them down your back in a seductive way, a groan leaving you at the way her fingers press into the toned muscle satisfyingly.
Experimentally, you slide your tongue into her mouth, a sinful moan escaping her as she welcomes your advances, your hands toying with the hem of her jumper, not sure how far she wanted to go as your mouths move lewdly together, her back arching a little to press her body further against yours.
"Am I going too fast?" Your voice a gentle whisper as you pull back from the kiss, sensing a little bit of nerves from her, eyes gauging her reaction as your fingers had slipped beneath her clothing, feeling the warmth and softness of her bare skin, her cheeks flushing a deep red as she meets your enamoured gaze, not wanting to pressure her.
"No I just-" she cuts herself off, feeling a little embarrassed as your hands slide out of her jumper, snaking around her waist and pulling her closer to rest against your body, bringing her in for a soft embrace that she appreciates. "I never done this before," she confesses, a soft smile appearing on your lips as you guide her head back so you can meet her timid green, "I want to but I just... don't know what I'm doing."
"Do you trust me?" you ask, mimicking her words from the ice skating, your fingers raising to brush back another stray strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear affectionately as she nods. "I'll take care of you, I promise," you whisper, kissing her lips with nothing but love, conveying how gentle you'd be with her. "We can stop at any time," you reassure her, not wanting her to think she's committed to having sex with you, "Just tell me to stop and we stop. I don't care what's happening, all I want is for you to feel safe and comfortable with me." She smiles shyly at your words, tilting her head to kiss you once again, grateful for how caring and considerate you were. "We'll go at your pace, ok?"
"Ok," she murmurs back, smiling into another tender kiss as you do as you said, letting her control the way her lips move against yours, slowly building the hunger back up.
"Tell me what you want," you sigh out against her lips, feeling her hips subtly rock against your lap without her even realising it, your teeth softly nipping at her lower lip, earning a small moan as she flutters her eyes back open, meeting your patient gaze.
"I want...I just want you," she whispers, holding the intimate gaze before leaning back in, kissing you with a new sense of urgency, a small moan leaving you at her words. Your lips pull into a small smile as she slides her tongue hesitantly into your mouth, the kiss turning messy and causing a wave of arousal to flood through, Wanda's mind spinning at the intoxicating way you make her feel.
"You have me," your tone laced with love as she rests her forehead against yours, lips lingering open against one another, simply relishing in the intimacy. "Show me what you want from me," you encourage, sliding your hands from around her lower back to hers, letting her take a hold of your hands to guide them where she wants them, your lips parting from hers to pepper kisses along her jaw softly, her head lolling to the side to welcome your addictive touch.
She simply holds your hands for a moment, deciding what she wants from you, her mind freezing momentarily at the way your teeth scrape against her sensitive skin, a pleasant shiver running down her back as she curses lowly in Sokovian, the sultry sound causing a throb between your thighs.
When she's ready, she squeezes your hands softly, guiding them down her body to the hem of her sweater, hoping you understand her silent request. Your fingers slide under tentatively, feeling the way her stomach tenses and relaxes at your touch, the skin impossibly soft and enticing, your mind reminding you to wait for her as you caress the skin you can reach.
"Please," she murmurs out, one of her hands moving to your hair, threading her fingers through your silky locks and softly pulling you away from her neck, her lips pressing to yours with a hint of desperation as she grinds her hips with a little more purpose now, a wave of pleasure coursing through her.
"Off?" you mutter against her lips questioningly, her nodding into a sensual kiss as your lips meet gently, her sighing into your mouth as your hands grip the hem of her sweater, slowly, teasingly, pulling it off her body.
Her hands move off you to help you pull the item of clothing off, your gaze remaining on her face as she turns shy again, waiting for another nod before letting your gaze drift down her body, your breath hitching at her sheer beauty.
Her body is sculpted to perfection, crafted by Aphrodite herself to create the most beautiful woman you'd ever lay your eyes on, her delicate and smooth skin enticing your eyes all over her exposed body, her curves luring your hands to caress them softly, eyes flickering back up to hers, nothing but admiration and love in them.
"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" you whisper into a passionate kiss, her nerves immediately dissipating at the sheer honesty lacing your tone, another blush creeping onto her face at how amazed you were by her. "Any idea what you do to me?" you continue, wrapping your arms around her body and pulling her closer to hers, her bra covered chest flush against your body as she moans into your mouth, her body begging for more, needing you to touch her lower.
"Please Y/n," she sighs into your mouth, your hands creeping up her body and resting just under her bra, fingers brushing over the skin, causing goosebumps to rise. "I need you," her tone conveying how desperate she was, your worshipping touch only driving her towards madness, her body viewing them as teasing.
"Where do you need me, love?" the endearment spilling from your lips naturally, a wave of arousal flowing through her at your slightly husky voice, your lips parting from hers once more to kiss down her neck, sucking partly before moving to kiss her shoulder and collarbones, waiting for an answer.
"Here," she sighs out softly, her fingers wrapping around one of your wrists and guiding it down to meet the waistband of her pyjama pants, your head instantly leaving her body to look at her properly, the green in her eyes usually filled with love completely replaced by desire and hunger.
"Are you sure?" Your voice is full of care as your hand remains where she guided you, gazing into hers as your heart beats wildly in your chest, still stunned a little by the sight of her on top of you, the heat between your thighs incessant.
"Yes," her voice a mere whisper as she kisses you softly, deciding she wouldn't want anyone else to be her first, always having loved you without even realising it.
"Remember we can stop whenever you need to," you murmur before claiming her lips with a newfound purpose, wanting to give her everything she wants, fingers carefully sliding under her waistband.
"Fuck," she whispers out, voice a little shaky as her hands move to your back once again, clutching onto your t-shirt as your fingers brush against her core through her soaked panties, a groan leaving you at how wet she was for you. She was this desperate for you.
You move the pad of your finger against the wet fabric, teasingly sliding it up and down her core, earning a small, desperate moan from her into your mouth, her teeth biting down on your lower lip impatiently as you continue to work her body up, her hips bucking against your hand at the slightest of touches.
"Can I-"
"Please," she practically whimpers out, your lips tugging up into a smirk whilst your free hand glides up and down her back soothingly, your fingers slowly sliding under the waistband of her panties, a sensual sigh escaping her when you finally make contact with her core. "Detka," she pants out against your lips as you swallow the desperate noises that leave her lips as your finger swipes through the abundance of arousal that's pooled between her thighs, coating your digit as you explore her wet sex.
Pulling back from the kiss, your eyes observe every single reaction to your touch she offered you, drinking it up like an intoxicating substance as your finger spreads her slick around her, moving to circle her clit gently to begin with, slowly building in confidence as your touch grows firmer, intending to bring her as much as possible.
"You're so pretty like this," you mumble, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, teeth scraping the soft skin again to drive her mad, your finger sliding up and down her soaking folds before settling on teasing her entrance, a whine leaving her at your enamoured tone and taunting actions.
"Detka," she sighs out, tone conveying the sheer desperation she feels for you, needing you to bring her towards her release, her body needing your touch to satisfy her.
"Shhh, I'll take care of you," you murmur, tilting your head away from her neck to let your lips brush against her compelling ones, her breath fanning across your face as her lips part, your finger slowly sliding into her, your eyes in awe of her blissed out expression. "Tell me what feels good," you encourage, slowly curling your finger inside her beautifully, a moan spilling from her lips directly into your mouth as you claim her lips softly, slowly letting your lips slot over hers, her mind hazy with all the pleasure and heat flowing through her.
"Shit, there, right there," she groans as you curl your finger against her weak spot, the palm of your hand brushing against her clit as she rocks her hips against you, fingers gripping your shirt tightly.
"Yeah?" you husk out and the slight cockiness to your tone has her mind spinning even more with arousal, delirium taking over her as she moans against you once more, your name falling from her lips like a small chant as you thrust your finger in her a little faster, pleasure bubbling through her. "What if I do this?" your voice a teasing whisper, your thumb moving to brush over her clit, a choked moan escaping her as you move it in languid circles, doubling the pleasure fogging her mind.
"Y/n," she pants against you, the corner of your lips tugging up into a smirk at her desperate tone, the way her walls clench and spasm around you, her thighs tensing around your body as her hips buck harder when you time your movements right, a sudden wave of pleasure flowing through her. "Fuck," she sighs out sensually, parting your mouths as she's struggling to reciprocate the kiss, too busy focussing on the way you effortlessly slide in another finger, stretching her out perfectly.
"You're doing so well for me," you whisper, mouth moving to the shell of her ear and tone dropping, a slight rasp added to your voice further arouse her. One of her hands shoot up into your hair, messily tangling it into your locks as moans escape her, her hips trying to move a little faster and push her towards her nearing release, fingers gripping tightly making a dull pain wash over you, the action making you groan as the idea of how lost in pleasure she must be goes straight between your thighs.
"Detka," she sighs out, desperation and a hint of embarrassment lacing her tone, too nervous to ask you for what she wants as her hips indicate how close she is, your fingers still steadily thrusting into her and thumb occasionally brushing her clit, hips bucking harder against you. You immediately understand what she's asking for as she gently tugs your head back, lips pressing against yours passionately as she holds you close, back arching further into your body as she sighs into your mouth, a small whine escaping her as she teeters on the edge of her release.
"I've got you," you murmur gently, your free hand moving up her body and to her face, cupping her cheek intimately and deepening the kiss, a moan leaving her at the sheer amount of love you pour into the embrace. "Let go for me," you mumble between kisses, her eyes squeezed shut as pleasure threatens to take over her.
"Y/n," she whispers out sinfully for a final time, body tensing against yours while your mouths refuse to part, muffling the desperate sounds leaving her lips while pleasure wracks through her body. Her legs tense around your body once more, her hands adamant on keeping you close as she keeps your head against hers, foreheads resting against one another as you slow the kisses down, pecking her lips in between laboured breaths. Your fingers slowed inside her, letting her walls clench and spasm around you as she rode out the last waves of her release, her body eventually relaxing in your lap and melting against your comforting body.
Your gentle breath caressed her lips as she eventually opened your eyes, timidly smiling at you and claiming your lips once more in an innocent manner, her adorable expression causing you to reciprocate the action as your free hand moves to glide up and down her back soothingly, fingers pulling out of her when she was ready.
"I'm so proud of you," you whisper with nothing but honesty and care in your words, her cheeks blushing at the way you tenderly gaze at her, her fingers moving to fix your ruffled hair. She smiles at you softly as she tucks a few strands behind your ear, your lips meeting her cheek lovingly as she just wants to bask in the intimate moment for a little longer, the two of you simply locked in a lovers embrace as your arm snakes around her middle.
Many soft words and gentle whispers later, you had managed to convince her into going to the bathroom to get cleaned up, not wanting her to be uncomfortable later and also wash your hands quickly, the brunette blushing at the cocky smirk on your lips as she watches you, proud of yourself for being able to make her feel good and most importantly loved and safe. You let her find herself a new pair of underwear and some new pyjama pants, opting for the pair she first came to you in before searching for a new shirt to wear.
Once she had opted for an old shirt with her favourite sitcom on it, you offered her your hoodie you took off earlier, the jumper being an oversized fit which you knew she loved, Wanda taking it with a wide smile, unable to stop the butterflies in her stomach at how caring you were. She let her nose rest against the collar of it, able to smell your perfume on it as you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind, dramatically falling onto the bed with her in your arms, eliciting an even bigger smile from her and a nose scrunch.
She turned around in your arms so she was facing you as you pulled her body impossibly closer, smiling fondly at the sight of her in your clothes, her leg sliding in between yours to find a more comfortable position to cuddle in as your fingers drew idle patterns against her back.
"Thank you for being so gentle," she whispers a little shyly, your gaze softening more somehow as she moves her fingers to play with the baby hairs at the back of your neck.
"I'll always be gentle with you," you murmur, kissing her temple and letting your lips linger for a minute, building the courage to say what you wanted to. "Thank you for the last week, I've really enjoyed spending time with you," you say, still trying to get to the three words you wanted to confess, her smile growing a little wider at your soft tone.
"Have I convinced you to love Christmas?" she asks curiously, the intimate gaze prolonged as you once again get lost in her eyes, smiling tenderly at her, thinking of how to phrase your words.
"I don't quite love Christmas yet," you whisper out, your words still giving her hope. "But, I...I know I love you," you confess, your heart beating wildly in your chest for the few seconds she doesn't reply, the way her nose scrunches once again in that adorable manner easing the worry of rejection.
"I love you too," she whispers back with fondness lacing her tone, her lips meeting yours once again for an intimate kiss as you can't help but grin into the kiss, a teasing comment finding its way to your lips.
"More than Christmas?" you whisper, earning a soft laugh from her as she moves her face to hide at the crook of your neck, your skin so warm and comfortable, lulling her into a relaxed state.
"More than Christmas," she chuckles out, wrapping her arms around your middle securely, your arms mirroring the action as your lips press a final kiss to the top of her head, the witch amazed at how you, a grinch, managed to steal her heart.
#marvel fanfiction#wanda x reader#eventual smut#wanda maximoff#wanda fanfic#mommy wanda#wanda x you#smut#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff x female reader#12 days of kinkmas#kinkmas#fluff and humor#fluff and romance#12 days of christmas#12 days of ficmas#12 days of smutmas
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𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏’𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕
🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️
summary - being the granddaughter of the witch that tried to eat hansel and gretel wasn't fun, especially when they come back to seek revenge.
warning - smut, dubcon, swearing, spitting kink, spit roasted, threesome, kidnapping, mentions of death and eating children, mentions of attempted abandonment, oral sex, creampie.
18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.
Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.
Steve Hansel and Nick Gretel (their parents were hoping for a girl) made a pact years ago to never enter the woods again, not after that fateful day of crossing paths with the witch. When they were kids, their mother had unfortunately passed away, causing their father to find solace in the arms of another. They remembered the wedding clearly, how their hearts nearly beat out of their small chests as their father remarried the woman who would bring hell to their small family.
The hatred that leaked from their stepmother’s flesh could only be noticed by them; their father too blind with heartbreak to even notice. At their age, they were too young to understand why their father would remarry if he wasn’t in love with the woman. But as they grew older, bypassing the trauma they experienced. They began to realise their father was trying to fill a void with the first woman that passed.
The one thing you should never do in a fairytale is trust the stepmother, the boys learnt this the hard way. Their family wasn’t the wealthiest, having to survive off the small crumbs that they could find or gather. They trusted the woman when she had said that she found some food they could harvest not too far from their home. Steve being the smartest out of the two, made sure to fill his pockets with some rocks, nodding toward his brother Nick before they followed, creating a small path along the way so they wouldn’t get lost. Their stepmother left after distracting them long enough, ensuring that she could finally get rid of the two extra mouths to feed.
But the boys didn’t worry as the older of the two, gripped his brother’s hand and led him back home. Following the small rocks, and once they stepped foot out of the dreadful woods, they were greeted by their father who had been worried sick. As a small child, you’d think nothing of this, but as their father wrapped the two into a warm, loving hug. Steve looked over his shoulder, resting his chin on his father and smirked at the fuming woman, her lip sneered upwards as she realised her plan had failed.
Her second attempt had somewhat succeeded; she lured the boys back out with the promise of more food. Steve having not collected any rocks that week, grabbed his leftover bread and decided to use that as their way back home. Yet, he had forgotten that they were not the only hungry creatures living in the woods. As a child when you get lost, you become scared and you don’t know what to do, you expect for an adult to come and save you because how could a child do that for themselves? They weren’t built to protect themselves, they had adults for that, adults to learn from so that they could carry on protecting when they got older. The boys were terrified, but Steve wouldn’t show it because it was then that he realised he would be the one protecting his brother from now.
Hands gripped tight, they wondered through the woods hoping to find their way back home until a small shout came from Nick’s mouth, Steve’s head whips around and his eyes widen when he sees a house made completely of gingerbread, decorated with the finest lollies, he could feel his mouth water and before he could stop his brother. Nick dropped his hand and took off running toward the delicious looking house. His mouth already opened as he began to nibble on a pillar, his stomach filling immediately. Steve caught up with him and slowly begin to eat as well, what harm could this do? They were kids, living in a poor home with barely any food to keep their stomach from rumbling every five seconds.
This was where the real horror began, an ugly old woman slammed open the door, screaming at them before she dragged the boys inside. Again, another promises them food, as if there were a giant sign on their head signalling, they needed it. Steve’s eyes darted around the home, connecting with those of a girl’s, her eyes wide and lips pouted. He wondered if the two were related or if she was also kept prisoner as the wicked old witch shoved the boys inside a small cell. She kept mumbling on about filling them up and eating them, causing the boys to try, and come up with a plan to get out of there.
The witch called upon the youngest, telling him to help her with the oven door. The young girl watched from the corner, observing, and ignoring as the eldest boy tried to get her attention. Her grandmother wouldn’t like that, she wanted the young girl to continue studying their witchcraft, wanting her to continue their legacy if anything ever happened to her. She watched as the oven door managed to open, and her grandmother turned toward her, something that she shouldn’t have done as it distracted her from the boy beside her.
“Y/–” The witch is cut off, a scream leaving her as Nick pushes her fat body into the oven. The girl too shocked to move, she felt her body freezing up instead of rushing over to help. Nick stumbles towards his older brother, yanking the cell open and running with him as they escape. Steve turns his head, eyes connecting with the young girls, he gulped as her face slowly morphed into an evil look, her eyes narrowed and dark, with a promise that she will one day become strong enough and find those that killed her grandmother.
As the boys ran for their lives, twists, and turns, narrowly missing the trees and bushes. They somehow managed to exit the woods and head toward their home where their father was, again worried sick for them. He pulled the boys into his arms, holding them tight and listened as they went on about their stepmother and then the witch. None of the boys noticed that the stepmother never made it back, getting lost herself and the father was glad that his boys were home again. Steve and Nick looked at each other and that day they made a pact to never step foot in those woods again.
That pact was broken as the now men wandered into the woods. “I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t step foot into these woods again?” Nick sneered, not being able to ignore the chills that spread through his body at the thought. He gripped the sword tight, one that matched his brothers.
“Father is old, Nick. We are barely passing by as it is, and we need the food. You know that for us to be here again, it is our last resort.” Steve tried getting his brother to understand, he didn’t want to be in these woods either. Not after the look that young girl gave him, after that day he had managed to get the town in on searching for her, of course some believed there was a witch in the woods as their own children have gone missing. But they had all come up empty, which left him to think that they were related. It would explain the look she gave him as they ran out of there.
After that day, the brothers became a bit darker, smarter. Their minds had twisted, no longer sweet and innocent. Nick grunted, kicking a rock that got in his way and watched as it flew across the ground. “I know, but. It feels…” He paused, not knowing what word to use to describe the feeling.
“I feel it too.” Nick felt somewhat relieved that his brother could feel what he felt too, but he didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. “Come on, we better get going before dark.” Steve ushered his brother forward, heading in a direction opposite the one that caused their trauma. They took cautious steps as they wandered through the woods, managing to gather some food and kill some animals.
Nick hit his brother’s arm; eyes wide as he gestures to a house in the middle of nowhere. A replica to the one many years ago. Steve can feel rage build inside him as he stares, wishing the place would burn down. “That can’t be the same one. We went another way!” Nick exclaims, horror filling his bones.
Steve launches forward, his feet stomping against the dirt and leaves as he heads toward the house. Nick stumbles along, trying to stop his brother even though he feels the same rage deep inside. They both release a breath as they stop in front of the door, the sweet scent of gingerbread filling their senses. Before Steve can knock, the door flings open, and their mouth falls open.
You stand there, your hair perfectly wild and your long black dress falls gracefully while hugging your figure. Your eyes are sharp as you glare at the two men, it was as though they couldn’t breathe. You were so beautiful, practically glowing as you stared them down. “Who do you think you are trespassing onto my property?!” You growl, starring up at the men as they tower over you. You could feel it in your bones, they felt familiar, as if you knew them from somewhere.
Steve’s eyes widen more than before, your eyes. He had seen those eyes before, his brows furrowed, and the rage continued to build as he connected the dots. You had grown, it wasn’t hard for him to remember those eyes. They had haunted him for years, striking fear deep inside him and his brother. “You! You’re the little girl!” He fumed, only to be held back by his brother as he tries to step forward.
Your eyes widen slightly as you begin to remember who they are. The men that made you an orphan, causing you to watch as your grandmother cooked. “Oh!” And like that, ever so subtly. Your demeanour changes, a soft smile replacing the frown, your eyes lighten and your back straightens. “You’re the boys that saved me! Come in! Come in!” You usher them in, sneering and coiling on the inside as those words slip from your lips. This was the only way you could get revenge, a life for a life. “I’m just preparing myself some dinner if you two would like to join!”
Steve and Nick cautiously follow you inside, looking around. “It’s not children, is it?” Nick lets out a small ‘ow’ while rubbing his head when Steve whacks him, giving him a ‘what the hell’ look. Your soft laugh causes them to slightly relax, thinking you might be different.
On the inside, your laugh is cruel, wicked. You couldn’t wait to watch the brothers burn, finally getting the satisfaction after all these years. “Of course not, why would I eat children?” You bat your lashes innocently at him, smirking inside as he blushes. It was now or never, you needed this. “Could you please help me?” You pout, knowing you have the youngest brother in your palm. “I–I’m too weak to open the door… And I usually end up hurting myself.” It was a long shot, maybe they’d connect the dots, maybe they wouldn’t but you were so close.
Nick nods, beginning to head over. A sense of Deja-vu hits him but he ignores it, you seemed so cute and innocent. What harm could someone as tiny as you do? Steve watches, his stomach twists, trying to tell him something and out of the two brothers he listens. You seemed distracted, only watching Nick so he decides to move slow, sneaking behind you.
You noticed too late, a gasp falls from your lips as Steve grabs hold of you, locking your arms behind your back, pressing against his front. “Let go of me!” You struggle against his hold, sneering at them. “I swear to god if you don’t let me go, I’ll make you regret this!” You yelp as Steve tugs on your arms harshly, pushing you toward your large wooden table.
Nick blinks, looking between you and the oven before letting out a gasp. “Oh my god! It was going to happen again?!” Steve rolls his eyes, gesturing his brother to come help. Nick quickly stumbles forward, taking over for his brother while Steve walks into your line of vision. He crouches down, looking into your eyes while he reaches forward and tucks a fall piece of hair behind your ear.
“Did you really think we’d be stupid enough to fall for that a second time…” Steve looks at Nick before shaking his head, looking back down at you. “Okay, maybe one of us wasn’t stupid enough.” He ignores the small ‘hey’ as he gives you a smirk. “What should we do with you, huh?”
“Let me go!” You sneer, glaring daggers at the man. Nick groans as you push back against him, accidentally grinding against his bulge. You gasp, eyes widening. “You pervert!” You thrash around, your movements not helping the man behind you.
Steve grins as he realises what he’s going to do to you. He reaches forward and grips your chin, tilting your head back enough that it begins to strain your neck. He leans forward, keeping eye contact. “We’re going to have some fun with you, little witch.” The force of his hand causes your mouth to open slightly and your walls clench around nothing as Steve spits into it. Never once has a mere human made you react like this.
You must have zoned out because when you blink, the brothers had swapped positions. Maybe you could taunt one, distract him long enough. You breathe, focusing on the one before you, letting your magic swirl around and enter him. You let out a giggle, “Nick Gretel… Oh, your parents must have–” Your cut off and your eyes widen as a hard but soft object enters your mouth, causing you to choke and gag as it hits the back of your throat. Your eyes move down and widen more as you realise what has entered, you can feel yourself dampen at how big and thick he is.
“Oops, what was that, little witch?” Nick groans, feeling your lips tighten around his throbbing member, your tongue flicking instinctively around his swollen tip. “Shit, I think she’s enjoying this, brother.”
Steve hums, having rolled your dress above your hips while you were distracted and swiping a finger through your glistening folds. “Of course, she is, she’s a slut. Isn’t that right, little witch? You were just desperate for attention.” You whimper around Nick, causing him to let out a groan and jerk his hips. Thrusting deeper into your warm, wet mouth. “You just want to be stuffed, huh? Have us use both your holes, fuck you until you’re dumb. Fill you with our cum, making you want and beg for more.” His words cause your eyes to roll back, your thighs becoming slicker at the thought. Steve smiles, nodding. “Just like I thought.”
He stands, palming his throbbing cock before he releases it. A groan falls from his lips and shoots through to your core as his strokes the thick base. The older brother guides his mushroom tip through your lips, gathering your juices before he pushes in. “Oh fuck… She’s so tight.” Steve grunts, his eyes fluttering as he thrusts deeper, his cock being hugged by your delicious walls. His hands grip your hips as you squeeze him, your moans vibrate around Nick’s cock, and he shouts.
“Fuck! I’m not going to last if she keeps doing that!” Nick holds the back of your head; his head falls forward as he slowly fucks your face. He watches as his cock slides in and out of your mouth, drool slipping out the sides of your mouth, only the whites of your eyes visible. “Such a good little witch, taking me so well.”
Steve thrusts into you hard and fast, holding you down. He groans as his hands move from your hips to your plump cheeks that jiggle with each thrust, he grips them, pulling them apart and squeezing them. “Fuck, who knew a witch could be so pretty. Not like the other one we met.” Steve makes a dig at your dead grandmother, causing anger to build inside of you only to be replaced with pleasure. You tense before slowly relaxing in their hold, sucking desperately on Nick’s cock while his older brother splits you open.
The feel of their pulsing veins, sliding in and out of your holes, their scents invading your senses cause you to become dizzy. You have never felt something so intense before and in response your walls clench and unclench around Steve like crazy, sucking him in deeper, allowing him to hit the spots that are far out of your reach. You moan, tingles erupt throughout your body as Nick buries his cock into the back of your throat and releases, filling your mouth with his cum.
You swallow as he pulls out, slouching into the chair behind him as he watches his brother destroy you with hazy eyes. “O–oh!” You bury your face into the wooden table, hands flying forward and gripping the edge tightly, causing your knuckles to whiten.
Steve growls, leaning forward and towering over you. His hand moves from your arse to the back of your head and pushes it harder into the surface. “You like that, slut? Such a weak fucking witch.” You whimper, tightening around him as your vision becomes white and your juices coat his thick member. Steve groans, continuing to thrust before coating your walls with his cum. Like his brother, he gently pulls out and sinks into the chair behind him, half-lidded eyes watch as your cunt clenches and unclenches around nothing and his cum leaks from your tight hole.
Your chest moves up and down as you breathe, trying to push away the left-over pleasure that runs through your body, you slowly move and fix your dress before lifting your hands. As magic begins to swirl around you and the room, you prepare to get rid of these men once and for all. “This is for my grandmother.”
The brothers ignore the shivers that roll through their body at how chilling your voice is, they look at each other knowing that they will have to do something and fast before the magic can hit them completely.
Steve being the closet decides to distract you while his brother grabs something from his pocket, while your attention remains on Steve, you don’t seem to notice the other sneaking up behind you. You’d think you would learn after last time, but of course, you thought you were strong enough. Your eyes widen when you are suddenly grabbed and before you can even think of using your magic, a cloth is placed on your mouth causing your eyes to become droopy. “You should’ve just been a good little witch…” You hear one of them before you go completely limp.
As they head back in the direction of their home, with you in their arms. You would later learn when you awoke that you should never wait to strike revenge, especially as a witch.
thank you for reading!
feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.
#imyourbratzdollwork#a whores fairytale#hansel steve kemp x gretel nick fowler x witch reader#steve kemp#nick fowler#nick fowler x reader#steve kemp x reader#steve kemp fanfiction#steve kemp x y/n#steve kemp x you#nick fowler x you#nick fowler fanfiction#nick fowler fic#nick fowler imagine#sebastian stan characters#sebastian stan fanfiction#sebastian stan x reader#steve kemp fluff#nick fowler fluff#steve kemp fic#nick fowler oneshot#steve kemp oneshot#nick fowler one shot#steve kemp one shot#nick fowler imagines#steve kemp imagines#sebastian stan fan fiction#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan fic
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Coffee Shop Love: Sweet Tooth
pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader
summary: It's Christmas Eve and Miguel has a different kind of Christmas gift in mind...
contents: no use of y/n, not proofread, kinky, food play, oral f!receiving, cum play, cum eating, fingering f!receiving, sweet fluffy aftercare
author's note: Hey lovies, this is a Sequel to the series I just finished recently, Coffee Shop Love, wanted to try something new and write something kinky and whorenee, I'll get better at smut with time but hope you like...
word count: 1.6k
Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt. 5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Sequel: Sweet Tooth
You heard your house door open and close followed by the clatter of Miguel's car keys hitting the ceramic bowl at the entrance of your apartment. "I got your whipped cream you little psycho," he joked as he placed the grocery bag on your kitchen table.
"Thank you, hon'," you whispered sweetly as you got on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.
Just an hour earlier you were on the verge of tears because you had no whipped cream and the gingerbread house you were making and, "everything would be completely ruined," You had told Miguel that it wasn't Christmas Eve if you didn't have a meltdown anyway.
You and Miguel had been together for weeks now. All you could say about being with Miguel was that it was like being happy every day. There was not a single day where you had nothing to look forward to because you knew he'd either come to the shop or sleep over if you begged him enough. And the sex? Well, it was mind-blowing. You thought Miguel would be more of a vanilla guy in bed but you were poorly mistaken.
You now know to never judge someone's sex life by their age. Sex with Miguel had you wondering if you had ever truly orgasmed before. When you did it with him it felt different from any other time. When he made you orgasm it felt like you were in a whole new universe on top of the world. He was anything but vanilla and he took note of things you liked.
"You like that?" he grunted in your ear after he had spanked your bare ass as you bounced on him. You nodded your head frantically, begging him to do it again.
As the night went by you both decided to get in bed a little early to give Santa some time to drop your gifts off. You got into your bed and waited for Miguel to come back from the kitchen. He soon walked into the room hiding something behind his back. You sat up trying to get a better look at what he was up to. "What's behind your back, Miguel? Are you going to hit me with another pillow, cause if so I'm so prepared this time," you started before Miguel put a finger to your lips.
"You must be a witch of some sort," Miguel whispered. Your face contorted in confusion.
"I can't seem to stop craving sweets because of you, I think I may like them more than you do," he muttered, bringing his mouth closer to your ears. His warm breath tickled the sensitive part behind your ear.
"So what are you gonna do about those cravings?" you whispered in a low tone. You finally understood what Miiuel was getting at when you caught a glimpse of the gingerbread whipped cream he held in his hand.
Miguel put some whipped cream in his mouth and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was wet and messy, as your tongues swirled, you could taste the sweet cream.
His warm hands wandered under your shirt groping your tits, his calloused fingers circling one of your hard nipples. You moaned into the kiss, pulling at his wavy locks. With a swift motion, he takes off your shirt. To his pleasant surprise, you were wearing absolutely nothing underneath.
"Lay down baby,"
You lay yourself down on the bed, parting your legs a bit leaving your naked body on display for him to feast on with his eyes. Miguel licked his lip at the alluring sight before putting some whipped cream on the tips of your boobs.
With a grin, he slowly licked the whipped cream off of your tits causing you to shudder and giggle at the sudden feeling of his tongue on your skin. As his tongue swirled around your nipples you could feel your aching cunt throb. You began to rub your thighs together unconsciously to give yourself some friction.
He brought his lips back to yours, and you could still taste the sweet whipped cream on his tongue as he kissed with more passion than he ever had. He hadn't even touched you yet but you were already in haze.
He put some whipped cream in a trail from your sternum to the bottom of your abdomen. He placed himself between your legs and licked and slurped down stopping at your sopping wet cunt. He took a moment to savor the flavor. Your hand gripped the sheet tightly in anticipation of his next move. You whimpered and whined for him to continue. "Please Miguel—need you—p-please touch me," you whined as you grabbed him by his curly hair and practically shoved his face into your cunt.
"So needy baby," Miguel moaned into your pussy as he began his assault on your clit. The sensation of his moans vibrating from your cunt right to the tension building up in your stomach.
You clamped your eyes shut as you felt tears threaten to spill as you finally got some relief. You moaned loudly as he sucked on your sensitive bud. You felt his hot wet tongue lick up and down your slit, before he plunged it into your tight aching hole. Refocusing his attention on your clit, he plunged one of his thick digits into your cunt. Your moans only became higher-pitched and louder as he fed another finger into your cunt. "You like that baby?" he asked as he moved his fingers in and out of cunt at an ungodly pace. His tongue collected all the sweet slick dripping out of you. He humped the bed desperately at the same pace looking for any type of release.
You nodded your head frantically in response to his inquiry and gripped his hair even harder. "Miguel s'close," you whined as you babbled nonsense feeling the tension in your stomach explode like a thousand fireworks on the 4th of July, you moaned his name loudly as your thighs shook rapidly as you squirted all over his face.
When Miguel lifted his head from your cunt after cleaning all the juices of your thighs. Miguel was completely pussy drunk and drenched in your slick. "God that was so hot baby," he sighed as he gave you a quick kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue as well as the faint taste of whipped cream. As Miguel lay against the headboard you settled between his legs hoping to return the favor but when she pulled his boxers down, all she saw was his sticky cum coating the inside of his underwear and his thigh. "You came in your pants?" you asked with your eyebrow quirked up at him.
"Stop teasin'," he says as his cheeks heated up and the pink crept at the side of his cheekbones. How did I cum in my pants like a little teenage horndog? He asks himself.
"It's okay hon', I'll clean you up," you said slowly looking straight into his eyes as you licked him clean and savored the salty taste of his seed.
You straddle Miguel sitting in his lap, and you crash your lips onto his. He holds you by the hips and gropes your ass as you kissed. Your tongues engage in a heated dance as he lifts you and walks over to the bathroom. You had your legs wrapped around his waist and fingers raked through his soft wet hair. He sits you down on the toilet seat and starts the shower.
The steam enveloped the bathroom as the scent of your Vanilla body wash floated through the bathroom. You got in the shower with Miguel. He helped you wash your hair and wrapped it up in a towel. He treated you like you were as fragile as authentic China. You helped him wash his hair as well. He wrapped his arms around you from behind before helping you get your back. You both got out afterward and lotioned up before slipping into your pajamas. You both opted for the matching holiday set you bought at the store.
Miguel had even gone so far as to put your hair oil in, detangle, and put it into two French braids before you went to sleep. "I had no idea you could do hair so well," you exclaimed, very happy with the outcome smiling at him through the mirror.
"Well you remember my late daughter I told you about, I used to braid her hair for her before bed and for her soccer games," he explained, smiling at the memories that resurfaced.
"I would love to meet her Miguel," you murmured as you took his hand and placed a kiss into it.
"She would've loved you even more," he reassured as he urged you to get comfy in bed while he made her a cup of tea.
He walked into the bedroom with a nice hot mug of Earl Grey tea. You could smell it when he brought it over to you. You had over 50 different teas in your house but he still knew exactly which one to bring you. "Thank you hon', you know me so well you even put some honey in here!" you praised.
"I've never met a coffee shop owner that hates coffee but it's fine because I make the best tea," he teases.
You roll your eyes playfully as Miguel rubs his hand along your thigh listening to you babble on about whatever drama was happening in the shop while occasionally kissing your hand.
When you were all done you slowly felt yourself fall asleep in his warm embrace. It was the merriest of Christmas nights you had ever had.
author's note: Thanks so much for reading this series! I had so much fun writing and I am so thankful for your support. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any requests, they are always open, let me in on your ideas, or critics. Thanks again xoxo
taglist:
@iite-cool@jewelz-teehe@br0-please@d1lf-loverrr@corpsebridenightamare@laysmt@bitchystrawberrystudent@lotionlamp@local-mr-frog@scaleniusrm@migueloharastruelove@thedevax@3zae-zae3@veyveys@simmerarmy@amber-content
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o'hara#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara smut#miguel ohara hcs#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel o'hara x you#miguel x reader#miguel ohara x you#atsv miguel#miguel spiderverse#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 smut#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara hcs#miguel x you#miguel spiderman#miguel ohara
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Rocking Around The Christmas Tree
Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader
Warnings: Fluff
Word Count: 1050
Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff
18+ MINORS DNI
It was Wanda’s first Christmas in the States since she lost her brother, the Avengers taking her in and giving her a home. As Nat left with Clint to spend the holidays with his family, everyone else left to spend it with their own family and friends, leaving Wanda and Y/N alone in the compound.
Although Y/N had a crush on the witch, they were afraid to act on it as she was still mourning the loss of her twin.
“Good morning.” Wanda greeted shyly as she walked into the kitchen, seeing Y/N prepare for the christmas cookies and building the gingerbread house. “What’s all this?” She asked as she stood beside them.
“I figured it’s your first Christmas here, so I wanted to show you how we spend it here.” They told her with a smile.
“Why didn’t you do what the others had done, spend it with your own family?” Wanda asked as Y/N looked down before shaking their head no.
“Because I wanted to be here with you.” They told her with a bright smile. “So come on, you like to bake right?” Wanda nodded as she joined Y/N’s side. With it being christmas eve, they had decided to do all of the baking before watching christmas movies.
“I didn’t realise there are a lot of activities for just one day.” Wanda laughed as Y/N nodded.
“There is more.” Y/N told her. “But we can always do that next year because now we watch movies and eat junk.”
“What?” Wanda laughed at their enthusiasm, soon following them into the living room. “The Grinch?” She questioned as Y/N smiled.
“The original cartoon version, and then the Jim Carrey one.” They told her as they threw a pack of crisps at her. “Now, sit back and relax.” They told her with a smile. She had done as they told her, thanking them quietly when they covered her with a blanket, soon finding herself leaning her head on their shoulder.
“What now?” She asked as they jumped forward, startling her slightly.
“This is for you.” They handed her a gift bag. “Open it.”
“Pyjamas?” She raised her brow.
“Christmas pajamas, now go shower and change woman.” They pushed her into her room as she laughed. They soon went into their own to change into matching pajamas.
“I thought only couples and families would wear matching pajamas?” She questioned with a raised brow.
“Well, we have known each other for almost a year and I consider you my family.” They told her sweetly, making her smile and her heart flutter. “Besides, you deserve to have the full experience.”
The two soon sat down as they ordered pizza, not really wanting to cook anything for dinner.
As they ate as A Wonderful Life played on the TV, Y/N sighed as they turned to look at her.
“You asked about my family before.” They started as Wanda nodded, giving them her full attention. “They died, it was a couple of years ago, I had just joined SHIELD after leaving the military.” They wiped their hands on their pants. “My parents and baby sister were proud of me, I was going to fight alongside the Avengers. But then, Pierce, he killed them, he recorded it and showed me when they captured me. Tortured me but watching how they tortured my parents and Kay, that was the worst torture anyone could ever go through.” Wanda reached for their hand. “Last year was my first Christmas without them, and I was here alone. Everyone was off with their own families and all I felt was pain and anguish during the time of year we usually enjoy.” They looked into her eyes, stinging with tears that threatened to fall. “I never wanted you to feel what I felt last Christmas.”
“Y/N.” Wanda spoke their name tenderly before she caressed their cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s ok.” They gave her a smile. “I learned how to live with the pain and I fight everyday so someone else doesn’t have to go through the pain I did.”
“You’re amazing.” Wanda told them honestly as they smiled before turning back to the TV.
The next morning rolled around after the two had fell asleep on the sofa in each other's arms, Y/N woke before Wanda and moved her gently before getting up to make some breakfast for the two. Her gift is already sitting proudly on the counter.
“Hey.” Wanda smiled as she approached Y/N who was cooking pancakes. “Christmas tree pancakes.”
“With cherries.” They beamed as they plated them up for her. “And this is for you.”
“What?” She questioned as she looked at the gift wrapped box. “I never got you anything.”
“Seeing that smile on your face is a gift.” They told her honestly. They watched as she opened it eagerly, her eyes glistened as she spotted the Dick Van Dyke Show box set.
“How did you know?” She asked them as they shrugged.
“I remember Pietro told us about how the two of you loved the show when you were kids.” They told her. “It was one of the things we spoke about before he uh.”
“Thank you.” She whispered as she gave them a hug, their arms instantly wrapped around her waist.
“Dance with me?” They requested as White Christmas played through the speakers. Wanda’s arms moved up around their neck as their hands remained on her hips, both swaying to the gentle rhythm of the song. A smile on Wanda’s face as their breakfast remained untouched.
“Thank you for this.” She told them as she looked up into their eyes.
“You don’t have to say it.” They told her gently. “Just seeing this smile is all the thanks I need.”
“Mistletoe.” Wanda pointed up above them as the two chuckled.
“Stark.” They both spoke in unison before looking back at each other.
“Isn’t that sort of a tradition too?” She asked with her lip between her teeth.
“It is.” They confirmed. “But we don’t.” They were cut off by her lips on their own. Pouring every emotion and feeling into the kiss, the two feeling complete for the first time in their lonely lives.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#marvel#elizabeth olsen#wanda x you#elizabeth olsen x reader#wanda x reader#wanda x y/n#wanda maximoff x you
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