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moonyflesh · 19 days

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“Technical Difficulties” - [Steven Grant x Reader]

WARNINGS: fluff, single use of profanity

CHARACTERS: Steven Grant (Moonknight; MARVEL)

🌙 .*.. ☎️

Your eyes flitted over the open book in your lap, a soft yawn leaving your plump lips as you flipped one of the yellowing pages, your eyes droopy with exhaustion (and possibly a hint of boredom).

Lulling your head back into the large leather couch, your eyes hazenly scanned the large studio apartment, analyzing what a mess it really was.

A cozy, almost welcoming mess, but a mess nonetheless.

You stood, stretching with a slight groan as your back popped, and you tossed the old, hardcover book on the messy coffee table by your calves height, your eyes scanning the papers that littered the surface, analyzing the Egyptian studies and documents for only a moment, before you tore your gaze away from the “fascinating hieroglyphs”.

A soft, oh-so-sweet accent rang through the flat, drawing your gaze through the seemingly endless bookshelves.

Steven.

The strong cockney accent had you walking through the maze, your fingers dragging along the spines of the old, once-read books on each shelf, rounding a corner to be greeted by the adorable sight of none other than your loving boyfriend, Steven Grant, hunched over his brand new phone.

Paper manuals splayed out over the already cluttered wooden desk in a frantic splash of white and black text, illuminated by a small desk-lamp as you raised your eyebrows in amusement.

A small pair of “grandma glasses” hung precariously close to the tip of his nose, slipping lower before he would mumble a complaint under his breath and push them back up with a sigh.

“Did you call for me, baby?” You asked, rubbing at your eyes with a soft yawn, before running your hands through your hair, undoing any knots.

“Ah- there’s my beautiful darling!”

He immediately seemed a pound lighter when his posture straightened up from the device in his hand, his chocolate brown eyes meeting yours for a brief moment, a smile of simple relief on his chapped lips.

“Were you sleeping, love?” He quickly questioned, his eyebrows knitting at the sight of your sleepy gaze on him, but smiled and nodded when you shook your head negatively.

“No. Was just bored- i was reading one of your books and just could not find any interest in the concept of worshipping cats,”

He chuckled, faking a face of offense at your distaste in such an interesting matter.

Well, to him anyway.

You wandered to his side, elbows first on the desk, ignoring the stacked papers as your eyes curiously draped over the phone in his hand, noticing how it still was flashing the bright white greeting screen, the word “hello” in different languages flashing slowly over the screen like some sophomore’s lazy slideshow presentation.

“I uh- well, I’ll admit i’m still not fond of your begging me to get a new phone,”

He chuckled out almost bashfully, pushing his reading glasses up the bridge of his crooked, tanned nose once again.

“I cant figure this bloody thing out, love.”

You smiled down at the device, tilting your head in your hand, a small laugh passing your freckled lips.

“I did not beg. I simply…asked. It’s 2025, Steven. You couldn’t keep using that damn flip phone.”

Steven scoffed, a small, playful frown on his face as he cocked his head oh-so-cutely to the side, scrunching his nose at the fact that you were probably right.

You always were, though.

He smiled, nudging your shoulder with his own playfully, scooting back out of the desk’s main area in the rolling office chair.

“I’m just askin’ for sum help, darling,”

He smiled lovingly up at you, like you were the most angelic being out there. Like he was so hopelessly in love with you.

How true that really was, you couldn’t imagine.

Sighing, you gingerly took the phone out of his hand and began the basic set up, casually pointing at buttons and certain things he should remember in terms of having a smartphone, like where the flashlight ability was, etc.

“Alright, you need a password. Something that’ll keep your phone locked, until you wanna use it.”

His eyebrows curiously knitted together, as if that was the silliest thing in the world.

“A…a passcode? Ooo, it’s like a riddle every time i want to contact you! Well- except ill already know the answer every time-”

Your heart swelled with a small huff, his innocence too much for your corrupted thoughts as you laughed.

“Uh- yeah. Like a riddle. So….?”

He pursed his lips for a moment, scratching at his black curls that were messily unstyled and stuck to his forehead.

“Make it…make it your birthday, yeah? That way I’ll never forget, and you’ll always be able to get onnit.”

He looked up at you, his hands reaching out for your hips, drawing you to his seated form, letting you stand between his thighs with a soft smile, one that absolutely melted you, and you couldn’t resist.

“…my birthday?”

He nodded eagerly, rubbing mindless circles into your hips through your loose trousers, shrugging.

“Would you rather it be our anniversary date-?”

God how dearly you loved this man.

“No, no- i just-”

He leaned closer to you, leaning into your stomach as he buried his head into your tummy, nestling his forehead there.

“I don’t deserve you, Steven.”

The man guffawed, and playfully smacked the back of your thighs with a small huff, chuckling into your tummy.

“Now why would you ever say such a thing? Course you deserve me, love. you deserve the whole bloody universe, really,” You smiled, running your fingers through his hair with a puff of acceptance, shrugging, before moving your attention back to his phone, typing away at his contacts, which consisted of, well, no one.

“i’ll add my number in, yeah? you want anyone else in here yet? Donna, maybe?”

The woman’s name brought forth a shudder from the man snuggling against you earning a bark of laughter from your glossy lips.

“alright, i’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

Pressing a few numbers, you inputted your number into his contacts, labeling it with the simple first letter of your name, and a brown heart emoji.

You cheekily pinned yourself to the top of his chat thread, but didn’t bother to tell him how you did it, or how to undo it.

“alright, you’re all set up, sweet boy,” you purred out, tugging softly on some of his curls, the raven strands of hair that stuck to his forehead being swiped away by your fingers gingerly.

“i’m probably gonna take a nap, if that’s okay? might steal your bed- that couch is awful for my back-”

He nodded, his lips brushing over the skin above your pant line, where his fingers had rested over your belly button under your blouse, curiously tracing the soft, speckled skin and stretch marks around your hips.

“y-yeah, that’s alright love. i’m gonna finish this tour outline and then i’ll join.” He smiled up at you, shifting so his chin rested on the plush of your abdomen, a lazy smile tugging at his face when you pulled the magenta glasses off his crooked nose.

“handsome chap.”

“pretty gal.”

You both chuckled at each other’s words, before you leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth, and pulled away with a soft grumble of a ‘mm’ from his chapped lips, and he scooted back into the large pine desk with a soft, overworked sigh.

“don’t be too long, okay? ‘s cold without you in bed,” You mumbled, wandering further and further away from him in open space of his flat, to the sand ring round his bed, where you kicked off your house shoes and socks, and climbed into his crisp sheets with a soft sigh, smiling at his ‘won’t be much longer!’ from across the room.

Your eyes fluttered shut when your nose inhaled his scent on one of his many pillows, a content groan leaving your lips as you laid on your side, yawning.

Sleep welcomed you more warmly with the knowledge that Steven had an easier way to contact you.

…

And it was a plus that he had a picture feature now.

…

you were definitely going to abuse that opportunity.

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fairykazu · 7 months

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what kind of dates they would bring you ft. gi chrs ୧ ‧₊˚

mlist ⋆ playlists for each character will be linked on my spotify!

a movie night - at their house. sharing a blanket together, huddled together and listening to their familiar heartbeat, because it is something that the both of you have done more times than you can count.

mona, lisa, layla & kaveh

a fair - hearing your lovers laugh will never fail to light up your entire night. holding their hand on rides, sharing strange food, and riding on a ferris wheel will always hold a special place in your memories.

kaeya, yoimiya, yelan & hu tao

an aquarium - taking many photos, seeing and learning things that you never knew before. silently watching in awe alongside your partner as the jellyfish mindlessly float behind the glass.

kokomi, scaramouche, xiao & sara

an art museum - studying the meaning behind paintings, bouncing back and forth theories, and leaving together filled with inspiration and love for humanity.

albedo, ganyu, kazuha & keqing

ice skating - falling down with your partner and showing them your vulnerability. they smile and pick you off the floor, holding you steady as they guide you on the ice.

childe, ayaka & amber

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laylajeffany · 2 months

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Crying at the Texas Roadhouse | Wenclair One-Shot for @cruciokilljoy

Rating: G WC: 4,500 Summary: Enid’s feelings are hurt and Wednesday tries to resolve them, requiring her to find her soft spot (in public) when Enid starts sobbing in the middle of a chain restaurant in Jericho. Enid's POV, established relationship, unrelated to any of my multi-chapter work TW: Esther Sinclair being herself

@cruciokilljoy You were probably looking for more physical hurt/comfort but both my multi-chap fics have explored that pretty throughly and I am tired of writing the girls in physical pain so I put them through emotional pain instead. Certainly not based on actual, recent conversations with my own hateful mother not at all ☠️

“You were crying.”

Duh.

“Like, an hour ago,” Enid clarified, looking at Wednesday as she stepped into their room with her jacket draped over her arm, sleeves rolled up, hands filthy. She could only imagine what her girlfriend had gotten into (literally, looking at the caked-on mud on her Oxfords that ran up to her stocking-covered knees). “I hardly think that’s the most pressing thing we need to talk about. Why are you covered in dirt?”

“Mud wrestling,” Wednesday replied dryly.

“Not enough on you for that.” Enid rolled her eyes and crossed her sweater-covered arms. She almost didn’t want to know but would certainly rather discuss Wednesday's potentially illegal antics than herself after the challenging evening that she’d already had.

She wasn’t in the mood for bickering, either way - so maybe quiet time would be best.

“Why were you upset?” Clearly, she wasn't going to drop it with her own deflection. Wednesday draped her jacket over the side of her desk chair and toed off her muddy shoes, forcing her to lose the small boost of lift they gave her, putting her squarely two inches beneath Enid. She stood directly in front of her, a kiss away – bearing into Enid with her eyes and forcing truth out of her.

Knowing her lower lip trembled a little, hating her tells and trying to frown the feelings away, Enid looked at her own feet. There was no use lying to Wednesday about an actually serious subject when the evidence was still in the bloodshot veins of her eyes. “My mother called. It was…it’s just always upsetting,” She glanced back up with a forced, sad smile. Wednesday’s eyes lost their intensity from curiosity, but gained something that was largely new for her – sympathy.

How Enid hated it. Deciding to dangle a tantalizing offer in front of her, she forced her pitch to remain neutral as she stated, “I don’t want to dwell on it. Can we skip the part where I rehash how my mom is a miserable person and…just go to dinner? You could edit my lycan paper after, I could use the help…”

Wednesday’s stare continued to be gentle and Enid was about ready to march out of the room if she didn’t quit. She couldn’t stand that. “Stop, please? Wednesday, honestly. I don’t want to talk about it. And I don’t want you to pacify me this evening. My mother always manages to upset me. And even if I stand up to her on the phone, I sometimes need to cry it out after. It’s like…” Deciding to use a weapon analogy, Enid expressed, “Like a fuse. She lit it, I detonated on her, and now there’s some debris to clean up, but I’m actually fine. I want to move on.”

Obviously a little put out by the way her jaw shifted just slightly, Wednesday disappeared wordlessly, returning from the community washroom down the hall with clean hands and sans her stockings, which Enid assumed she’d tossed rather than get any more flak from the on-site laundry service about soiling other people’s clothing.

She disappeared into her closet, coming out in a pair of wide-legged pants and an oversized black sweatshirt that fell nearly to her knees. If Enid could hide her emotions, she supposed she couldn’t comment on Wednesday hiding her body.

To her surprise, Wednesday actually let her not speak about her feelings and folded a hand into hers as she waved to Thing, nonverbally communicating that she wanted to be alone with Enid. Thing had been quite helpful to the whole affair – had heard her mother’s hurtful words, passed her tissues after she finished crying into her pillow, patted her back sweetly…

Wednesday led her to the foyer but didn’t turn to the right to take them to the cafeteria. Enid blinked a few times when Wednesday tugged her right out the front door and down the front steps. Confused, and really not in the mood to go investigating anything, particularly to discover whatever had Wednesday so dirty, Enid whined a little, “Can’t we just eat?”

“It’s Monday,” Her voice was just a touch darker than it had been in their room. “Nevermore’s infamous attempt at cowering to the vegetarians is tonight, and I don’t think their imitation beef is going to help you feel any better. We’re heading into town – I’m getting you a steak.” Well, that certainly perked her up just a little bit. “Withdrawing red meat once a week in an effort to be more environmentally friendly when ten percent of the student campus requires it as part of their metabolic diet is cruel, performative activism and we don’t need to be part of it. It makes as much sense as banning plastic straws. You don’t create systems change by following trends. Meatless Monday is going to meet my full-meat fist one of these days. But tonight, we’re going to crush peanut shells underfoot at a chain restaurant instead.”

More than okay with getting that salty coating in between the grooves of her furry, pink boots, Enid pulled Wednesday to her in a hug when they arrived to the edge of the forest trail that would take them into Jericho. Wednesday sucked in a breath of surprise at being forced into her hold but returned it after just a second of processing what was happening to her. “I don’t mean to take my bad mood out on you,” Enid apologized.

“I do it to you all the time,” Wednesday mumbled into her shoulder, sighing as she hooked her arms around her middle, hanging on just as tightly. “Usually for far-less valid reasons.” She pulled away to put her palms on Enid’s shoulders and met her eyes without that sympathy…instead…

Wednesday’s brown gaze in the setting sun was highly empathetic and made Enid drop half the tension in her shoulders. “I might also be a little hangry,” She confessed as her stomach roared suddenly between them.

There was a flirtation of a smirk on Wednesday’s lips at the noise and she said nothing, merely took her hand again, leading them boldly through the woods for a twenty-minute walk into town.

Enid swore she felt better just at the sight of the neon lights outlining the state of Texas with a cowboy hat perched on top of it when the restaurant was in view. Inside promised at least a feeling of satisfaction for the wolf within her, and that could often soften the meltdown of her personhood, too.

“Two, please,” Wednesday politely replied when the hostess, a too-cool Jericho High student with rapidly growing roots sticking out of her bleach blonde hair snapped her gum and looked irritated to have to ask how many were in their party.

Holding back her own growl of irritation, Enid would admit, she was relatively surprised by how well-behaved Wednesday could be in spaces like public restaurants. She often claimed that staff were simply victims of the State or something about labor rights, and generally tipped far more than Enid would’ve thought that they had earned.

Enid watched a basket of rolls be taken into a waitress’ hands and swallowed the saliva that threatened to slip out of her lips, thinking Wednesday was about to drop her hand as she often did in public – but not that day. She must’ve sensed some of her mother’s conversation had been about, willing to take on any bigot that might’ve had something to say about the two of them in a relationship. Vermont might’ve been one of the more progressive states in the country, but – certainly, so was California, and her mother had a whole lot to say from there that evening…

Once they were seated, Enid took a roll without waiting even a beat for the young woman who would be taking care of them to go through her required spiel, while Wednesday simply gave a curt nod at her before giving all of her attention to Enid as she went to return with water. (Enid could hardly wait for the day she could down one of those massive margaritas in the advertisements all over the establishment.)

She was halfway through with her first roll when Wednesday’s harsh stare asked the question before she needed to confirm, “You missed lunch with that extra dance practice today.”

“I’m sorry,” Enid said, just about ready to own up to anything – even things she hadn’t done, in an effort to just keep everyone from blowing up at her anymore that day. She really couldn’t handle Wednesday being frustrated with her, too -

“Next time, tell me,” Wednesday ordered, her voice clipped; Enid stared hard at the rings on the wooden, lacquered tabletop, willing her next round of sadness to stay internal. “I’ll bring you something to class. Don’t apologize to me.”

About to say ‘sorry’ again, Enid just bit her lip, seeing the tears that were threatening to well up in her gaze. She tried to blink them away, and was grateful when the waitress asked if they needed more time with the menu when she brought their water over. Enid just shook her head, while Wednesday started, then said her name in a very gentle tone – and all the up and down of soft and hard was really –

“Um, the twelve-ounce New York strip, please – rare.”

“You know that means pink, possibly bloo-”

Wednesday was quick to defend her. “She knows what her body requires.”

Enid let out a shuddered breath, quietly asking for her sides before the waitress left. Wednesday reached across the table and took both of Enid’s hands, clearly needing to understand more about what was making her act so small and miserable. “Tell me what your mother said.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Enid argued, feeling her tone rising as hysteria was pouring out of each vein, flooding her body.

“You obviously already are. It’s weighing on you. Release the burden, and you’ll feel relief.”

As the first tear fell, Wednesday’s face contorted from intensity and certainty to overwhelmed and near helplessness as she obviously hadn't thought through the fact that Enid was going to cry in public. She squeezed Enid’s hands, but the gesture only caused the second one to dribble, then the third, and the fourth, and Enid brought her sweater up over her face to keep from letting out an audible sob in the restaurant.

Thankfully, Wednesday had some sort of awareness about what to do – they’d been dating for months and friends for so long, she’d seen her fair share of Enid’s breakdowns and generally knew what did and didn’t help. When the preventative measures clearly weren’t working that Monday, she stood up and rounded to the space beside her, putting an arm around her and letting Enid fold herself into her chest. The unexpected display of affection was actually bringing out even more of her release. God – that hug to soothe her emotions into was exactly what Enid needed, and the fact that Wednesday had it in her to be soft enough around her to let her break down, in a half-full restaurant, into her arms? She loved her more than anything, and Enid knew that, she just wished, maybe – well, Wednesday was probably right. She did just need to talk about it to work through it.

When she met the black strings of her hoodie, Enid knew she let out a cry of a sniffly sound. It was embarrassing, devastating, really, to be having a full breakdown at the Texas Roadhouse. But Wednesday had been determined to try and make her feel better that evening and was going to have to finish what she started, even if that meant snuggling her in a vinyl-covered booth while the waitress awkwardly put their salads down on the same side of the table a few minutes after the crying began.

Wednesday unrolled one of the fabric napkins, shaking out a knife and the forks. For a brief, split-second, Enid thought she really might eat one-handed while she continued to snivel all over her chest, but Wednesday instead used the square to dab Enid’s cheeks, soaking up the tears that hadn’t been absorbed into her sweatshirt. She adjusted her hold on her girlfriend and looked at her with something new –

Sincerity.

Almost blubbering again, Enid just nodded, knowing it would do well to admit what Esther had said to her on the phone. “My…mother – she was …on her weekly rampage, about…everything. Nevermore, administration refusing to split us up – you not receiving any consequences from last semester…the usual. Then…it shifted,” She sniffed. “She brought up my late blooming, how I’d been so privileged to have been even have parents who cared enough to offer to send me to lycanthropy conversion camp…”

Wednesday’s hand curled on her upper thigh at that.

“And when she wasn’t getting a rise out of me for that, she dug deeper – the normal line of inane ramblings of how she couldn’t believe after all that time, ‘that Addams girl’ was what got me to shift for the first time…and, when I reminded her, ‘that Addams girl’ is Wednesday, my girlfriend, she…she…just said, ‘we don’t talk about that,’ and started bitching about the value of a Nevermore education not matching up to the price tag, not that it mattered – since none of her pack were scoring above a 3.5 on the ‘mediocre’ grading system, moved on to my scar tissue and wanting me to come home to have a consultation with a plastic surgeon for a revision procedure, and I said that wasn’t going to happen and hung up on her. Then I cried.”

Watching Wednesday respond to the entirety of the call was like discovering something new hidden in a sensory tube every other second. While she was short for words, Wednesday’s eyes always spoke volumes about what she would say if she dared to put her thoughts out verbally. Mr. Addams had described her tongue as that of a viper to Enid more than once when telling stories about her, so she was pretty sure it was often for the best that Wednesday focused on taking in all the information before reacting. She knew that Wednesday tended to get into it with administrators and authority, but at least with Enid – she was far more even-tempered in how she responded to hearing words she didn’t like.

Enid let out a long breath and picked up one of the forks that Wednesday had shaken out of the napkin, needing to channel her energy into anything but crying again. She speared leafy greens onto the tines, trying not to visualize doing the same to any of her mother’s more vulnerable body parts, for that matter – wondering which Wednesday would fantasize about ripping out first in her defense.

“I’m sorry, Enid,” Wednesday spoke through a near whisper of a tone.

Hearing those words come out of Wednesday was like hearing foreign language that she needed to interpret. Her fork fell out of her hand. Not wanting to startle her anymore, Enid brought her longing, hopeful sort of gaze to Wednesday’s. “Why are you apologizing now?”

Wednesday drew her hands into her lap, staring straight ahead. It took her some time to form her response, likely, if Enid had to guess, because of the emotion that was pooling in her own eyes. She knew her damn well enough that she wouldn’t shed anything close to a tear in public, but Wednesday was very much on the edge. It didn’t make sense – she’d done nothing wrong, aside from maybe push her into talking about it when Enid knew what that would unleash, but even then – it’s not like she had been the one to say all those hurtful things…

“I suppose I am not apologizing with my sorry. But I am sorry that I contributed to enough of your mother’s ire that she took it out on you. I’m sorry that she continues to refuse to acknowledge that you are in a non-traditional relationship, let alone demonstrate any sort of positive feeling about it. I’m sorry that she continues to bring up painful events of the past, and attempt to shame you for them, or think you should have been grateful for her wanting to send you to an abusive situation. I’m sorry that she thinks your grades aren’t good enough – you’ve got a 3.87 right now, which is Magna cum laude and I’m really proud of you for working diligently at increasing your grade point average. I’m sorry that she thinks you need plastic surgery. If you wanted to, that would be your choice. But I love your scars, and I think they’re beautiful.”

Enid could barely breathe. She wasn’t sure if Wednesday had ever said so many words consecutively, let alone that indicated her true feelings on any subject matter…that she was harboring so many about her, in particular. Trying not to let herself curl up into the faux-wooden logs that made up the side wall of their booth, Enid finally found the ability to expand her lungs and release the last of the tension she’d been harboring. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”

“It’s not in pity,” Wednesday clarified. “It’s not. It’s…perhaps a feeling that I don’t have a schema for.” She gave a rare blink as she seemed to be trying to find the emotional vocabulary within her to better explain herself, staring at Enid, who was pretty sure she was going to need an inhaler by the end of dinner at the rate Wednesday was taking her breath away. Finally, she gave a nearly-invisible shrug as she further clarified, “I just know, that I love you. And I despise that anyone would attempt to make you feel small, or anything else negative, especially someone who is also supposed to love you unconditionally. And I am sorry, that you were forced to endure that. All your life. So…I’m sorry, and I hope to make it up to you.”

Tilting her head, sniffing just a little, finding the shiest hint of a smile, Enid promised in a watery whisper, “You are. Right now. You…knew that I needed to take care of myself, and that school wasn’t going to cut it, and you brought me to the Texas Roadhouse,” She let out a small bubble of a laugh. “Here, I’ll get what I need to sustain me, but while we’re waiting,” She paused, reaching over for one of Wednesday’s clasped hands, forcing them apart so they could squeeze one another’s. “You’re giving me the opportunity to release what doesn’t. Thank you, Wednesday.”

There was a new wave on Wednesday’s features – a distinct mark of relief in her gaze as she swept it, unblinking onto Enid again. “It is hardly my forte to make someone who was sad return to baseline, let alone anything akin to happiness…”

“You’ve done a pretty remarkable job for me,” Enid assured her when the waitress brought out their main courses, looking a little awkward as she put them near their still-full salad plates.

“Uh…anything else I can bring you girls?”

“A total end to the heteronormative, compulsory, traditional society we continue to find ourselves existing in,” Wednesday said without hesitating.

The waitress blinked.

Enid shook her head. “I think we’ve got anything we need, right here.”

The woman left with wide, confused eyes and Enid sighed, cutting into her steak without thinking twice, watching the red ooze out onto her plate. The sight grossed her out, but she knew it would do her body good.

Sure enough – halfway into the steak, she was feeling remarkably better already. “Try to finish it,” Wednesday prompted her. “The full moon is on Thursday, you should be nearly doubling your caloric intake.”

Kissing her cheek, earning the slightest twinge of red to her cheeks, Enid thanked her and followed through, polishing off the meat, picking at her vegetables while Wednesday ate with a distinct sort of raised-higher-class slowness that she usually did.

After finishing and watching Wednesday tip the waitress almost double what the bill had been, Enid took her hand and made it her turn to lead them – the yellow glow of a Dollar General sign across the street tempting her. “I feel like properly finishing up my breakdown by making a frivolous, five-dollar purchase.”

Wednesday’s eyes rolled but she didn’t fight her. Mid 2000s soft-pop radio was playing as they stepped into the nearly desolate discount store, one that Enid liked because of the deadstock that featured some of her favorite comfort characters from her childhood. Knowing exactly what she wanted, she led Wednesday through precariously stacked makeshift aisles of cardboard boxes filled with inventory that would be put out by the one employee working there over the course of several weeks. She hummed along to the music, singing along softly with Colbie Caillat, feeling a little bubbly herself as Wednesday refrained from spewing out comments on late-stage capitalism or some such true, but nonsensical arguing that would accomplish nothing between them. “Here they are,” She said, gesturing to a host of children’s coloring books. Wondering if Wednesday's limited access to traditional children's media would kick in, Enid playfully wondered, “Anybody look familiar to you?”

“Even someone who spent a significant portion of her childhood exploring the caves below the house like myself can recognize the ultimate example of corporate greed, the mouse that is Mickey.”

“Yikes,” Enid commented, “I’ll steer clear of the Disney characters.” Mentally retracting her statement to herself about Wednesday being able to hold back full-punch societal comments, she smirked, spotting what she wanted pretty much right away, taking a pink, Strawberry Shortcake book into her hold. “Will you color with me?”

“I cannot promise that I won’t be giving the fruitcake a makeover. And a knife.”

Giggling, then singing along a little more as she took Wednesday’s hand and wove her through the maze of mess before checking out – spending a whopping two dollars and twelve cents to achieve the final release in neurotransmitters that would complete her night.

After a walk back to Ophelia Hall that included a great production of sneaking back into the campus as they’d left without permission, Enid and Wednesday both found themselves in their pajamas and ready for bed before Enid took her art supplies out from a basket, revealing about three hundred colored pencils in different shades.

Wednesday flipped through the coloring book with a touch of a nose wrinkle, staring at the smiley, fruit-themed girls. She was going out of her way, clearly setting every intention of getting through the moment to make her girlfriend happy as she'd claimed. Finally letting out a real, whole laugh, Enid earned her perplexed stare. “You did it,” She promised. Wednesday waited and Enid winked. “You didn’t just reset me to factory settings, but you made me happy. I promise. You totally do not have to color with me. You can read or edit papers or whatever else is going to make you happy, too. So long as you’re not out solving mysteries, but here with me.”

There was a beat of relief as Wednesday took out a book she’d been reading through, curling up beside Enid, who took some creative liberties as Wednesday would have, forcing a picture of Lemon Meringue, the pigtailed character, and Strawberry Shortcake to look as close to herself and Wednesday as possible, even adding a little knife into Lemon’s hand. Wednesday let Enid pick the music, but she went with one of her playlists of cello covers as a compromise for both of them.

When she finished and flashed the coloring sheet to her girlfriend, Wednesday almost smiled, amusement evident in her eyes as she took a knife out of her pajama pocket (naturally – everyone needed a bedtime knife), evenly slicing it out of the book. She tacked it up on Enid’s bulletin board before putting all the coloring supplies away while Enid watched. Finally, she turned off all the lights except the strand of twinkling ones she’d magically learned to tolerate once they started dating.

She brought Enid to the floor-bed they’d made with a roll-away mattress that was more comfortable than cramming into either of their twin beds, lying on her back as usual, and inviting Enid to curl up with her with silence, just vague gestures – a pat of her own chest, a small nod…

“Wednesday, I love you. Thank you, for making me feel one hundred percent better. I feel even better than before my mom called,” Enid said softly, nuzzling into her.

Wednesday’s fingers instinctively wove into her hair. “I’m tempted to block her number on your phone so she can’t get a hold of you. I can’t promise that if I’m in the room the next time she calls, I won’t make her feel something about herself that is more than true.”

“Good,” Enid encouraged with a contented huff. “She deserves that.”

“You didn’t deserve what she said or attempted to do to you in the past. And I hope that…her comments about…us, don’t make you second guess things. I am always here – to repair and comfort what she has hurt or damaged, as long as you want me to.”

Enid squeezed her affectionately. “You are excellent at comforting my hurts.”

There was a small breath of alleviation she felt from Wednesday. Wanting her to really understand that, she added, “You went out of your way for me tonight. You could’ve just given me a hug, taken me down to the dining hall, and come up to edit my paper. But you didn’t. You knew what very specific things would make me physically feel better, then opened yourself up emotionally for me, too. You’re the best. I love you.”

Wednesday clutched her tightly with one palm wrapped around her back, the other gently tracing the skin near Enid’s scars. Her words felt a little surprising when she added, “I would like to apologize for forcing you to talk about what happened before you were ready. I’m sure you would have liked to not cry in public at the Texas Roadhouse.”

“I think it’s a perfectly lovely public place to have a breakdown,” Enid said with a giggle at her own expense.

Wednesday said nothing other than a quiet, “I love you. Go to sleep.”

Closing her eyes so she could follow the direction, Enid sighed very contently, reflecting on the evening as she drifted off to have the chance to start over in a new day.

Layla is working through prompts and determined to write the Black Menagerie epilogue for the weekend - stay tuned for more ✌🏼

#Wednesday 2022 #Fanfic #Wenclair #One-Shot #visual for my non-american readers of what a Texas Roadhouse looks like 🫶🏻#who among us hasn't cried in a chain restaurant?#unbeta’d #the collection of one-shots I write mostly in a closet at work is bringing me great joy #thank you for all the prompts I struggle to do any kind of one-shot on my own #layla's >5k challenge

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chanyouchan · 1 month

Text

⌕ gatochorro: que vença o melhor! [leia!]

⚠ em caso de inspiração, me credite.

📆 12/05/24 | ✎ @mnini (psd)

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bubuslutty · 3 months

Text

40-something Moon Man ROCKS the Dancefloor! (REAL NOT CLICKBAIT!)

pairing: Marc Spector & Female Reader

word count: 4026

warnings: none

summary:

Marc Spector accidentally goes viral on TikTok after his uni student neighbour/friend drags him to the club with her.

a/n: i wrote this in a silly goofy mood and i love marc sooo much <3 Also I used Darling instead of Y/n cuz im funky like that.

“Please, Marc.” Darling begged the 40-something man while he tried to clean his flat.

“No.” Marc answered flatly, wearing a very washed-out and loose t-shirt and a pair of dark blue shorts. His hair, now longer was tied at the back of his head in a tiny man bun.

“Why??? We’ll have so much fun and you need a night out to dislodge the stick up your ass.” Darling groaned and fell on her knees in the kitchen, ready to hold onto his legs and beg if need be. Marc sighed and ignored the 19-year-old teenager on his kitchen floor as he cracked another window open and increased the volume of the radio on the window ledge, BBC Radio 1 playing a Central Cee song in the flat as he picked up stray books, papers, food wrappers, socks and random junk, a bin bag clutched in one hand and a laundry basket clutched in his other arm.

Marc finally got himself to start cleaning his flat, he read that it would help his mental health to live in a cleaner space. That’s why she was over, she was meant to help him clean so it wouldn’t be too overwhelming on his own, and motivate him to get on with cleaning so he finished faster and could escape her non-ending yapping sessions. But now, it seemed like she was more interested in annoying him, which is literally second nature now, a natural reaction she had to him, annoying the shit out of Marc.

I mean, he could literally kick her out, and scare her enough that she’ll leave him alone for good, he’s done it before, to other people. He’s tried, but she’s Steven’s friend and he can’t do that to him. And he knows deep down he actually enjoys her presence and would kill anyone that hurts her then himself. He cannot lie, the kid had a big heart and was incredibly kind and patient. He was a little jealous that her parents were able to make a girl like that because Marc knew he could never produce that level of goodness into the world. He can never come close. She was too good.

Marc dropped the basket on a chair and the trash bag on top of it, letting out a long sigh and putting his hands on his hips. “Why do you want me to go with you?”

Darling’s miserable puppy eyes immediately vanished and she got up from the floor, walking up to him with a huge grin on her face. “Well, first of all, you’re my friend, and I like hanging out with you.” Marc raised one brow and didn’t say anything.

“I found this club with great music and I really want to try it out,” Darling said shrugging.

“Why don’t you go with your friends? People your own age.” Marc asked, his arms now crossed over his chest. “People from my uni are… I never really enjoyed going out with them, sure, nothing terrible happened cuz we always stuck together but uh-” Darling tried to explain and Marc failed to understand why the hell she wanted him to go with her out of all people.

“I’ll just be in the way if I go with you. And I can always pick you up at the end of the night, you know?” Marc said and Darling frowned in confusion, “In the way of what?”

Marc almost laughed in disbelief but held it together, “Don’t you want a boyfriend? No one will get close to you if I’m with you.”

Darling looked unimpressed, “What boyfriend? You mean drunk finance bros with an Andrew Tate mentality? Plus, I don’t do hookups, I have anxiety, mate.” Marc was confused and Darling remembered he wasn’t as chronically online as she was, so he probably had no idea who the abomination of a man was.

“I just want the experience. I just want to dress up and dance all night without men I don’t know breathing down my neck.” Darling explained, picking lint up from her way too big t-shirt with a Pikachu plastered on the front, so she wouldn’t have to look at him in the eyes.

Marc understood and thought about it for a second before picking up the trash bag and walking to the area that was his kitchen and putting it on the floor, next to the bin. “You want me to be your bodyguard?”

Darling’s head snapped up, eyes wide, “No! I mean- Yeah, sure..”

Marc pondered over the thought and asked, “When?”

“This Friday.” Darling quickly answered, smiling big and all, excitement radiating off her in waves.

“Alright, but so you know, I don’t dance.” That’s also what Chad from High School Musical said but go off. Darling knew to keep her mouth shut instead of calling him out.

“Thank you. Thank you so much!” She squealed, jumping up and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Alright, enough.” He grumbled even though he was smiling, and ripped her away with his hands on her shoulders. “You won’t regret this,” Darling promised and Marc just nodded, he’ll see about that.

“Now, do me a favour,” Marc said, turning around and picking up two trash bags in his hands. “Take out the trash.”

Darling groaned and Marc fixed her with a look and her shoulders slumped, taking the bags out of the door to put them downstairs.

🌙

“How do I look? Be honest.” Darling asked, standing in the corridors as Marc locked his door and shoved the keys in his pockets, his black leather jacket held in his other hand.

Marc straightened his back and analysed her outfit from head to toe. She was wearing a sleeveless, backless sparkly blue top paired with jean shorts and white trainers. Simply put, she looked pretty and it surprised Marc a little, he didn’t know she was capable of wearing anything but washed-out old t-shirts with unhinged slogans on them. It was an addiction at this point, she loved buying the weirdest t-shirts she could find on the internet. She even bought him a t-shirt once that said “I lactate”. And swear to God, Marc almost killed her right then and there. It’s still ranked as one of her “biggest Ws” whatever the fuck that meant.

“Not ugly,” Marc answered flatly and Darling grinned, that was Marc’s way of saying she looked nice.

“And you look great, did Jake pick the clothes?” She asked, looking him over.

“No.” Marc lied and she giggled, because the one who dressed cunty every single time without fail, was Jake, and unfortunately, Marc didn’t possess the level of serve Jake did.

Marc was wearing a black short-sleeved button-up, unbuttoned at the top, where his David’s star necklace glinted against his tan chest, paired with black trousers and black shoes. Simple, clean. His hair was brushed back this time, but still, some curls fell over his forehead no matter how many times he ran his fingers through it.

“Let’s go,” Darling said after checking she had everything she needed in her small handbag.

The two decided to take the underground rather than Jake’s cab because it was faster than being stuck in traffic in central London. It was a bit busy and lots of people looked like they were heading to clubs and pubs for the night, dressed in all sorts of manner. Marc was honestly just looking around and taking everything in, he had never witnessed London’s nightlife like this, maybe saw some things from rooftops while tracking someone, but that didn’t count.

He saw an alarming amount of young men dressed in techs, standing in hoards. And girls wearing matching bodycon dresses. The underground station was hot, extremely loud and stinky. Darling was standing next to him, complaining about the prices that TFL charged. How ridiculously expensive the tube and trains were, even with a student oyster. He just hoped he wouldn’t get a nasty headache by the end of the night.

They hopped on the tube when it came, screeching to a stop, people spilling out of it in crowds. When they got in, they sat across each other as more people sat around them. And if it couldn’t get any louder, a man walked in with a big speaker resting on his shoulder and a cracked iPhone gripped in his other hand. “Bassline Junkie” blasted loudly as he sang along, and soon enough, a group of rowdy teenagers, around Darling’s age, started singing along too. Darling started laughing and Marc watched as the man started approaching them, goading the sitting people to get up and start singing with him. Darling got up and shouted the lyrics at some girls as they sang together. They somehow managed to drag Darling away from her seat, holding each other and singing loudly, multiple phones recording the scene. When they reached their stop, Marc got up and pulled Darling by the hand out of the tube before they missed it.

“BYE!” She shouted over her shoulder, laughing and breathing hard.

Marc let go of her hand and watched her put her hands on her knees, panting and straightening, fixing her hair and looking at Marc with bright eyes, “I’ve never done that before.”

He smiled a little, “Good job.”

“To the club!” Darling pointed in the direction of the gates, pulling Marc by his arm.

When they left the station, Darling let out a shuddering breathing, suddenly feeling very cold in the polluted crisp air of London. Marc noticed and frowned, “Don’t get sick.”

“Wow, thank you, Marc.” Darling rolled her eyes and started walking down the street, Marc following her behind. She turned around, walking backwards, “By the way, I have your jacket so I won’t get sick.”

“I’m not giving you my jacket, dipshit.” Marc said and Darling rolled her eyes, “Yeah, whatever you say.”

They spent 30 minutes trying to figure out where the hell that club was, bickering while following the map on Darling’s phone. At some point, she ended up locking arms with Marc after a rando whistled after her when she walked by and had to physically stop Marc from turning around and bashing the man’s face in.

When they finally reached the club, Darling was so excited and Marc had a hand wrapped around the back of her neck, guiding her through the crowds of people to the bar so they could get a drink in their system first and take in the place. “You’re paying, by the way,” Darling said over the loud music, taking a sip of her cocktail, this drink will probably be her first and last. She didn’t plan on throwing up on the pavement, and she wants to be able to remember tonight.

“You’re the one taking me out, aren’t you supposed to be paying?” Marc asked, leaning in so she could hear him over the music. “I’m paying for kebabs later. 50/50, yeah?” She said and he hummed.

He looked around and noticed how a lot of people were dressed, it faintly reminded him of the early 2000s with twists to fit today’s fashion trends. He could tell that this was the look Darling was going for, then he finally allowed himself to actually hear the music and was surprised when Flo Rida was blasting from the speakers, the floor vibrating under the weight of the bass.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Darling said after she finished her drink and dragged him on the dance floor, drink still in hand. Rihanna was now playing and Marc was a little mortified because he doesn’t remember the last time he danced in a club. Darling gave him encouraging nods while she practised a Just Dance routine without missing a beat as Marc nodded to the music, finishing his drink and trying not to laugh at her and failing miserably.

At some point Darling got rid of his empty glass for him and ran back, almost crashing face-first on his chest if he didn’t catch her. “THAT’S MY SONG!” She shouted over the music and Marc immediately recognised the beat. It was that Usher song that even the aliens from outer space could recognise, the one and only: “Yeah!”. Marc was a little confused because he was sure as hell she wasn’t even born when it came out.

“I WAS BORN TO SERVE CUNT AND SLAY THE CLUB!” She shrieked and Marc knew she must be out of her mind because there’s no way one drink made her say shit like that. He was dragged to the centre of the dance floor and Darling started busting moves he never saw her do, and Marc had to admit, she was a good dancer. But he was a great dancer.

He ran a hand through his curly hair and watched her dance with fire in her eyes. Marc smirked. Alright , if this is how this is going to go, then so be it. He popped another button open from the top of the shirt and rolled his neck, getting his muscles loose, nodding to the beat. Darling watched him as she bounced with the beat and honest to God, Marc started krumping. Krumping in the club.

Darling’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets and she screamed in delight, hyping him up with her whole body, “I knew you could do it!”

He was good. Really good.

So good in fact that the people around them started to notice and the space between them got bigger, creating a clear space where they could see Marc and Darling better. Darling didn’t even notice, her eyes glued to Marc who was absolutely destroying the dance floor. She didn’t even notice the phones pulled out to record the scene. And when it looked like Darling was starting to lose against Marc, a random girl squeezed herself through the crowd, handing Darling her drink and started dancing battling Marc. Darling was losing her mind, laughing and having the time of her life. The crowd hyped both the girl and Marc.

Marc was smiling the whole time, his curls moving this and that way, now falling over his eyes, sticking to his forehead. His face was warm and his necklace kept constantly swinging as he ate up every single person who decided to battle him. In between songs, he kept being offered drinks while Darling kept complimenting his skills. She was proud to get him out of his shell and was genuinely so grateful that everything went as planned. But most importantly, she was proud of him.

Hours later, by the time they left the club, the two were walking down the streets, singing together to a Britney Spears song, arms linked and still warm and sweaty. Darling had Marc’s (Well, it was actually Jake’s) leather jacket draped over her shoulders, keeping her shielded from the cold wind. Meanwhile, Marc may as well unbutton his shirt all the way down and take it off because it was sticking to him and a huge, very generous chunk of his chest could be seen, still shining with drying sweat. His hair was a little crazy because no matter what he tried to do, it refused to stay still and he didn’t have anything to hold it with. But that’s alright, he looked very pretty and he had a great time to care about his hair at the moment.

The two made their way to the first kebab place they saw. “What do you want?” She asked, looking at the old and worn menu above the counter, on the wall. “A number 2.”

“Bossman, let me get two number 2s and two Coke Zero’s.” Darling said and the man nodded, “£22.98, please.” Darling reached for her purse. “I got it,” Marc said, digging in his pocket for notes before she had the chance to protest.

“I was going to pay.” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes, feeling tired.

“You can pay next time.” He said, patting her head.

“You always say that and you never let me.” She complained, leaning her weight against him, cheek squished against his warm arm. “Yeah, yeah.” Marc checked his phone for any notifications and scrolled a bit while waiting for their food to be done. When they got their food, they left the joint because there were literally no seats in there, you just collect your food and leave. Marc held the plastic bag in one hand and wrapped the other around Darling’s shoulder just in case she tripped, she didn’t drink much but she exhausted herself to the bone, and he didn’t want to end up in the ER looking after her.

“Do you want to eat in the tube?” He asked.

“No, I’ll get sick. Aren’t there any chairs anywhere?” She asked.

Marc hummed and looked around, spotting a park? A garden? It was really small and fenced, and in the middle, there was a big statue of a man Marc couldn’t recognise. He walked closer and saw that there was an empty bench inside. Perfect.

They got settled down, Marc unwrapped their food and Darling complained about the cold bench against her thighs. “Sit on the jacket.” He said, opening his Coke and taking a sip.

“But then my back will touch the bench.” She complained and Marc rolled his eyes.

“Just eat your food.” He said and they dug in.

They didn’t speak for a long time, both looking up at the dark sky. There were no stars to be seen due to the city lights, but they could see the moon and the clouds. It was as peaceful as London could get. When they were done, they collected the trash in the plastic bag but didn’t move, still sitting on the bench, looking at the moon together. “Uhm-” Marc spoke and Darling turned to look at him. As soon as she met his eyes, he snapped his mouth shut.

Darling didn’t say anything, just looked at him with an open expression, eyes heavy-lidded due to sleepiness. Marc licked his lower lip and parted his lips to speak but nothing came out. So instead, he opted for squeezing one of her knees in his warm hand, trying to make her understand what he was trying to say with his eyes.

He wanted to say thank you. He wanted to say that he appreciated her taking him out with her. He appreciated her patience and kindness. He appreciated how she never judged him for being himself. How she was brave and strong and didn’t get scared easily.

And Darling understood.

🌙

It was around 12 in the afternoon the next day when Darling got a text message from one of her uni friends. She frowned in confusion, she usually never received any messages from them during the weekends. She put her spoon in her cereal bowl as she chewed, and paused the YouTube video she was watching on her laptop.

Darling opened the message. It was two messages actually, one of them read, “Is this you?” And the other was a link.

She suddenly felt scared as her finger hovered over the link, she was sure she had a good digital footprint. I mean, she had profiles where family and friends followed, and she also had separate accounts online where she caused havoc without revealing her identity. And she was sure there was no way anyone she knew in real life could find her accounts and link them to her. She was careful.

Darling opened the link and instead of loading in a browser tab, it opened the TikTok app. Now, what the hell is this?

At first, she didn’t know what she was looking at, but her brain caught on and she felt like screaming. It was a video of the day before, from the club. There she was dancing battling Marc in the middle of the circle. Her jaw was on the floor, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Then she looked at the likes and screamed because why did it have 2M likes?

Her finger pressed the comment section before she could think and was flooded with comments like “This is what I mean when I say I want to go to the club”, “Okay but why did he eat?”, “Where is this??”, “Get this man in a Step Up movie NOW”, “Goo Goo Ga Ga”.

Darling leapt off the bed laughing and scrambled out of her flat, phone in hand. She didn’t even bother to wear slippers and instead ran over next door, Steven’s door, knocking quickly. When the door didn’t open in a millisecond, she turned the doorknob and walked inside without bothering to shut the door properly behind her, “Marc, you have to see this!”

Marc was in bed, shirtless and wearing a pair of loose PJ bottoms, wearing his reading glasses as he read his book. Well, he wasn’t reading it now . He was looking at Darling with an annoyed expression. She ignored it and ran to him, but not without throwing a quick “Hi, Gus” to the tank. She dived knees first on his bed and he sighed, slamming his book shut and placing it on the bedside table.

“What do you want?”

“Look!” She held her phone in front of his face and he tried to comprehend what he was looking at. Darling saw the moment he realised what it was, he grabbed the phone with both hands, a look of horror plastered on his face. “All of London saw the video. You’re viral, Marc.”

“Delete it.” He said without ripping his eyes from the screen.

“What?” Darling frowned.

“Delete it. Right now.” He repeated.

“It’s not my video. I can’t delete it.” Darling said and Marc dropped the phone in his lap, gathering his head in his hands, groaning. He truly had fun, but he didn’t know how he felt about all of London seeing this video.

Darling picked up her phone again, “I’m going to send it to DuChamp, he’s going to love it.”

Marc screamed and ripped the phone away from her hands, scaring her. She got scared not because he had taken her phone but because she never heard the man scream before. “Give it back!” She said, trying to grab her phone but Marc didn’t let her. It was a struggle because not only Marc was stronger, way stronger, but he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt so she didn’t have any grip on him, except his shoulders and hair. But she knew if she even thought about pulling his hair he’d throw her out of the window. “I’m going to report the video so it can be taken down.” He said and Darling gasped, “You don’t even know how to do that! You never used TikTok in your life, boomer!”

“Watch me,” Marc said through gritted teeth as Darling struggled against him, then she somehow managed to wrap her arms around his free arm and threw herself down on the bed, back first and swung her legs up to wrap them around his head, choking him. Marc let out a surprised shout, his eyes sent 500 million invisible daggers to Darling. He threw the phone down on the floor, out of her reach and lifted her off the bed, her legs still wrapped around his neck and she screamed when he flipped them around and slammed her down on the bed, head first, WWE style.

The two kept wrestling and clawing at each other until Darling ended up in a headlock, Marc squishing her body on the bed with his whole weight, “Help!” She wheezed, clawing at him, trying to get away from him. “Quit it.” He hissed as she tried to kick him with the heel of her foot on his ass.

A cough startled the two out of their fight, both of them looked up and Marc froze.

“What are you…doing?” Layla asked, looking at Marc, then back down at Darling. She had her phone in her hand, and a big Tesco shopping bag in the other. God bless her heart, she brought her disaster of not-technically-divorced husband groceries.

“Oooh, is that the bad bitch you fumbled-”

🌙

Tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @bobastayhigh @weblesstherains @h-leigh @unspokenmoon @ahookedheroespureheart @thursdaywritings @gebstargeb @softieekayy @fem-moony @peachjellypackets @pakhiya @darlinglittledevil @anixluxtt @mrs-cupidd @gebgeb @poeticabomination

this work is part of the "I'm friends with the moon" series. You can read it as a stand-alone or delve deeper into this AU.

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rivensdefenseattorney · 3 months

Text

Alfea Dormitory

Decided to post the mood boards I made of the girls' rooms way back when. It pretty much hasn't changed at all for me since then.

Bloom's Room

Bloom's room is basically controlled chaos. Even when nothing ever seems to be in place, she still knows exactly where everything is. She's an avid reader, so she basically brought as many books as she could with her, but she's also looking forward to adding to her collection in Magix. She has pictures everywhere that remind her of her family and earth. It helps her deal with the homesickness.

Stella's Room

Stella's room is very, extra. She only expects the best, so every blanket, pillow, mirror, rug, etc. you see is basically worth more than what most people can afford. She prioritizes making her room as comfortable and cute as possible. Bloom is always worried about even touching anything when she sleeps in her room, but Stella always reassures her that she has people who can take care of any messes.

Flora's Room

Flora's room makes you feel like you're in a garden. It's very cozy and relaxing. The most notable thing is the pleasant aroma that naturally fills the air. Flora didn't realize how big her collection has gotten, but she couldn't give away any of her plants. They are all her close confidants.

Musa's Room

Musa's room acts as her sanctuary. She's made it a space where she can come back to relax after a long day. She often spends time writing music in her little mini studio. She in her element the most when she can just tune out the world.

Tecna's Room

Tecna doesn't see the need nor does she like any excess clutter. She enjoys having open free space, so she doesn't need to spend any extra time cleaning than necessary. She's quite proud of the setup she managed to create. It allows her to stream and work on her algorithms as seamlessly as possible.

Aisha's Room

Aisha's heart will always be with the sea, so she's brought a bit of it with her. There's various knickknacks from Andros that can be found scattered around her room. She also set up a wall to place all of her extra workout gear. There's a cleared space that allows her to stretch in the morning.

Bonus

How tidy is everyone? (From Messy to Neat)

Messy

Bloom

Stella

Flora

Aisha

Musa

Tecna

Neat

What type of bird is everyone? (From Night Owl to Early Bird)

Night Owl

Tecna

Musa

Bloom

Flora

Aisha

Stella

Early Bird

__________________________

Winx Rewrite Master Post

Alfea Interdimensional College of Fae

Red Fountain Dormitory

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meadowofdarts · 1 year

Text

would anyone be interested in a reader insert of the interdarshan championship event?

i'm probably going to do this but I'm still debating on it and wonder if i would add a love interest/established relationship or just make all relationships platonic (EDIT: LOVE INTERESTS AND TAGS ARE CLOSED)

(EDIT 2: IT'S OUT! "A Play of Vigorous Wisdom")

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lunaselena · 5 months

Text

amor, amor, amor.

956 words, explicit content.

warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni!

summary: jake knows what he wants; he wants her.

notes: for @little-worm-grant, our love for jake hits hard. 🫂🤍 what a man.

—

The day had been fraught with tension, Layla and Jake exchanging biting words like arrows in a strained archery match. As Layla retreated to the bedroom, the echoes of their bickering lingered in the air. She had tried to understand, to bridge the gap, but their interactions always ended in a clash of discomfort.

Little did she know, Jake grappled with his own internal struggle. The couch became his refuge when he took control, a physical barrier between him and Layla. Yet, beneath the surface, a secret soft spot for her gnawed at him, complicating the already tense atmosphere.

His persistent way of annoying her only resulted in her getting turned on. A part of her hated that, but she couldn’t help it when he looked exactly like the man she had fallen in love with. He wasn’t anything like Marc or Steven though. She didn’t know much about him yet— only that he liked his coffee black, sang 90s hits underneath the shower (Yes, she had evidence of him singing ‘Hit me baby, one more time.) and he had a thing for teasing her whenever he was fronting. It drove her insane, to the fact that even though she wanted nothing to do with him, she still walked around with a wet spot in her panties whenever he was near.

Like tonight. Her panties were translucent by now. Damn him. She had to take the edge off somehow. Layla locked the door, shut off the lights, and grabbed her vibrator from underneath her book in the nightstand. It had been a week since she got off, and although the vibrator didn’t come close to the real thing, it got the job done. She lit some candles and turned on some soft music to drown out any noise before settling in bed. Tugging Marc’s shirt over her head and tossing her panties to the floor, Layla’s thoughts drifted to something dangerous. Jake Lockley. The man hadn’t left her head since the moment he stole her piece of bacon that morning. Might as well take advantage and use him to get off.

She shut her eyes and imagined Jake looming above her, his fingers dragging across her chest rather than her own. He was the one teasing her body with his hands until she was begging for release. He was the one angling the vibrator so the G-spot stimulator hit at the right angle which made her see stars. He was the one… Wait— knocking on the door?

Her eyes flew open and she sat up in an instant, gasping as the vibration intensified, making her eyes roll back. “Layla.” Jake knocked harder. “Open the fucking door.” Layla groaned into a pillow as she pulled the vibrator free from her slick entrance and shut the button off. “Yes— one moment.” She replied, voice coming out raspier and huskier than she would have liked. The knocking stopped. Layla slid out of bed, legs feeling wobbly as she searched for Marc’s shirt. Running her fingers through her messy curls, she cracked the door open. “What do you want?” His dark brown eyes scanned her face. “My pillow.”

“What? You already have one.” He looked at her with a strange expression. “And?” Layla pinched the bridge of her nose. “You don’t need another one, Lockley.” She pushed the door closed, but he pressed his palm against it to block it from shutting. “I do, Layla. Wait…” He raised a brow, sniffing the air. “Cinnamon?”

“It’s a candle. So what?” “You lit a candle?” He repeated, clearly amused, before his eyes widened with recognition. Didn’t Steven always lit up a candle for Layla to get into the mood? “Aha. The candles, the music, the…” his eyes glanced down at the thong on the floor. Layla’s cheeks flushed. She tried to close the door again, but his strength prevented her from doing so. “How do I get an invite, princesa?” His eyes darkened, the heat of his gaze making her almost turn into a puddle. Almost. “You’re not invited. Bye Jake.” She pushed against the door, but his hold remained strong. “Let me make you see stars, hermosa. Fuck. Please,” he rasped. A single plea had her walls crumbling like a poorly made cake. She shook her head. “Not going to happen.” But what was the worst that could happen? She was desperate for relief. She was desperate for him.

The truth hit Layla like a punch to the face, stealing her breath. A lump formed in her throat. He pushed slightly back against the door, wedging his foot between it. “I’ll beg.”

Layla released her grip and took a step back. “Fine. Beg for me.” Jake didn’t blink as she walked further into the bedroom. She was going to regret this in the morning. “Are you going to beg, or are you going to stand there all night? Watch me make myself come harder than you ever could?” His jaw clenched. “Are you daring me, Layla?” He growled softly. A mischief glint flashed in Layla’s eyes. “It’s a promise, papi.”

Something snapped in Jake. His nostrils flared, tongue dragging along his bottom lip as he turned to close the door behind him. “On your knees.” Layla breathed, watching him closely. He took a step closer towards her and sank to his knees. He swallowed. “Stay there and look pretty for me.” The brunette mused. Jake smirked. “Now what?” Layla slid back into bed, searching for her vibrator before turning it back on. The soft hum echoed through the room. “What are you doing?” Jake’s brows furrowed. “I said you could beg for me. Not that you could make me come.” A soft hitch of breath escaped his mouth. His stare sent a shiver down her spine.

“Don’t touch me. Got it?” Her eyes glanced down at the straining erection in his sweatpants. He gave her a short nod, a hint of fascination visible in his expression. “I’m in control.” Layla whispered, dipping the toy between her thighs. “You want to hear me beg, Lay?” Jake placed his hands on the floor, getting on all fours. “You want me to beg for that pretty little pussy?” He tilted his head to the side. “I want to taste you so fucking bad. Want to see if it’s true what the others say. You drive them wild. Feral.” He got up from his position, only to join her on the bed. Layla’s stomach fluttered.

“Fuck off.” Layla hissed— though she kept the toy right where it was, nestled deep inside of her. “Spread those legs wider. Or I’ll do it myself. Got it?” Jake threw her words right back at her. “Got it…” Layla spread her thighs, making Jake groan, his cheeky grin immediately fading.

She slowly pulled the toy from her wet cunt. The silicone glistened with her slick. Jake leaned in closer to look at it. Her body dipped closer from his added weight, his arm brushing against hers. “Layla,” his voice sounded strained. Layla pressed the warm tip of the vibrator against her sensitive clit, back arching up from the bed. Jake continued to watch. A soft moan escaped from Layla’s lips. Jake took hold of the vibrator, making the girl huff. “Let me taste you.” Jake’s voice cracked.

Layla glanced at him and dipped her finger inside, pumping slowly. The vibrator slipped from his hand, jaw going slack as he stared down at his roommate fucking herself with her fingers. “Show me how wet you are,” Layla added a second finger, soaking it as she continued to push in and out. Her lower body pulsed. Eyes focused on him. She lifted her fingers, showing him how wet she was. “Let me taste you, Lay. Please.” He begged.

She followed his command, reaching her hand out to have him wipe away her slick with a few strokes of his tongue. He hummed. Layla watched him in awe, cunt fluttering as Jake closed his eyes to savor the taste of her. “Please, touch me.” The words came out as a soft whisper, but it was enough for Lockley.

He spread her legs wider, moving between them. He took his time, kissing each of her thighs until she was squirming underneath him. His lips brushed against her soft skin, goose bumps spreading over Layla’s body, a nip of his teeth making her whine for more. Her fingers dug into his hair, tugging him towards her dripping entrance. “Fuck me or fuck off, Jake.” Jake chuckled softly. “Bossy, Lay.” His tongue darted across her swollen clit and he dragged the tip toward her aching opening. “So needy. So fucking sexy. I wonder how it feels to have your tight pussy wrapped around my cock.” His tongue sunk inside of her. Layla moaned, back curving. His fingers dug into the skin of her ass cheeks, his dark eyes focused only on her. The torture of his mouth drove her closer to the edge.

Her toes curled, thighs pressed against the side of his head as her eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck. J-Jake…” wave after wave of pleasure rippled through her body. Jake didn’t stop licking, sucking and stroking until her body gave out, her release coating the entire lower half of his face. Even the damn mustache glistened. Layla blinked up at the ceiling, trying to calm her breathing. Jake kissed her puffy clit one last time before crawling up. He cradled her face and pressed a kiss to her lips. The taste of his smoky breath and her arousal made her hum against his lips.

Jake pulled away. Layla reached out, grabbing onto his hand. Was this it? What even happened between them? She wasn’t ready to face the consequences of this yet. “Thanks Lay.” He pecked her lips one more time before he got up. “Where are you going?” Layla propped herself up on her elbows. “I’d rather leave before you come back to your senses, princesa. Don’t want you to kick me out of my own place.” Layla bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have done that if you asked to stay,” she blurted out, eyes widening a little. Jake flashed her a soft, reserved smile. “Good to know.” He replied, grabbing a pillow from beside her.

Turning towards the door, he gave her one last look over his shoulder. “You know where to find me, amor.”

Layla sighed and let herself fall back on the bed as Jake left the bedroom with the pillow underneath his arm. She considered crawling beside him on the couch, but kept herself from doing so. She was too flustered with the thought about the consequences of something like that.

What was the worst thing that could happen?

Fall in love with Jake Lockley.

tagged: @little-worm-grant @bambeenie

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midgardian-witch · 6 months

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Lazy Mornings

You wake up with only Layla sharing your bed and decide to enjoy the time together.

Part of both my Loving You (Plural) series and one of my entries for the Moon Knight Bingo.

AO3 [MASTERLIST]

Body Worship - Moon Knight Bingo

ships: Layla El Faouly/Reader

tagged: @spacecowboyhotch @moonknight-events @juneknight @eyelessfaces

"I won't lie and say I am not happy about having you all to myself for once," Layla murmurs in between yawns.

You snort and shake your head against your pillow. Layla just grins at you, happy to have made you laugh. She's not wrong though. It's become a rarity that you get to spend time with only one of your lovers nowadays. You love having all of them around and yet it's nice to have the focus of one of them solely on you for once, and to have your focus solely on one of them in return.

Steven had to get up early for work and hates to wake either of you (even though you know Layla is a light sleeper and probably wakes up each time anyway) so instead you know you'll be greeted by a sweet little note on Gus' fish tank once you leave the bed.

If you leave the bed.

You cuddle closer to Layla, limbs entangled under the blankets, and kiss her cheek. She looks so beautiful in the morning light with the early sunlight filtering through the curtains. Her hair looks unbelievably soft and you can smell her shampoo from where you are pressed against her. And her eyes, gods you could stare into them forever, the sun making her dark brown eyes shine like molten gold. You're not surprised Taweret chose Layla as her Avatar, to you she might as well be a goddess herself.

"Any plans for today? Seems like we got the flat to ourselves,” she comments, pulling you out of your reverie, “For the next few hours at least."

Layla pulls you deeper into her arms and your lips find the crook of her neck, placing feather-light kisses on her soft skin.

"Can we just stay in bed for a bit?", you murmur against her neck. The only answer you get is a satisfied hum, your lover thoroughly enjoying your undivided attention and affection.

You know she can feel you grin against her as your kisses slowly drift further from her neck down to her chest. You linger over her breastbone, your hands traveling over her sides, slowly inching upwards.

Layla's delighted giggles turn into breathy moans as your fingers faintly brush her nipples. She wiggles against you, displeased by your teasing. She can feel you chuckle, the warm puffs of air making her skin tingle.

"I'll make it worth your while," you continue as you slowly pull up the tank top she uses as a night shirt. Layla hums affirmingly and sits up so you can undress her more easily, tossing the blankets off of you in the process. With quick, eager motions you remove her top, her breasts now on full display. Your eyes travel over her body, taking in her uncovered skin like she is a work of art to be admired.

Layla reaches out to you, her hand covering yours. "You know you can touch me, right? You did a great job with it just a minute ago." The impatience in her voice makes you feel giddy and you slowly raise her hand to your mouth. Your lips graze gently over the back of her hand before you lazily place gentle kisses all over it. "Why hurry? We have so much time," you counter as you turn her hand and continue placing kisses on her palm.

Layla groans in frustration and you can see her trying to be subtle, rubbing her thighs together. Your soft touches seem to already be having an effect on her. "Do I have to beg? Is that it?" Your grin spreads even wider as you continue to pepper her wrist with feather-light kisses. With a thoughtful hum you let go of her hand. "I'm not going to say no to that. Although we should probably not tell the boys that I can make you beg so easily," you give her a wink before slowly crawling over her, "Can't have them get competitive or else none of us will ever leave this bed again."

Layla's laughter dies in her throat as you lean down and wrap your lips around one of her nipples. An elated moan escapes her perfect lips, her hand that you were just covering with kisses grabbing onto your shoulder to keep you in place.

You chuckle against her skin, lazily switching between swirling your tongue around the already hardened nipple and sucking on it. You're using one hand to hold you upright over Layla's half-naked body while you tease the neglected nipple with your other, gently rubbing and twisting it between your thumb and pointer finger.

Layla makes no attempt to stifle her moans, her sighs of pleasure filling the room. The sound is music to your ears; it's been too long since you had Layla all to yourself so you were going to make the most of it.

Once you've spent a good time paying attention to each nipple with both your mouth and fingers you lean back to admire your handiwork. Her nipples, erect and flushed from the continuous stimulation, all but beg you for more, to be teased and tasted and bitten. Layla looks up at you, glassy-eyed, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. She can't help squeezing her thighs together at your heated gaze, desperate for any friction against her cunt.

"Tell me what you want," you coo seductively, "Tell me and I'll give it to you." In response Layla spreads her legs, wide enough for you to settle in between them. "Eat me out?" she offers, more a question than a demand. You hum quietly as you kneel between her legs, your hands traveling over her soft thighs, slowly inching closer towards her underwear. Your fingers skim the frilly lace (a beautiful gift from Marc), goosebumps forming in response to your touch.

"I can do that," you reply. Bending forward, hands holding onto her thighs for support, you start to place teasing kisses over her stomach down towards her clothed cunt. She gasps and shifts under you, eagerly chasing your touch. Your lips linger on the line between skin and cloth, your eyes never leaving her face.

Layla groans, clearly exasperated by your stalling. "You're such a tease. Worse than Jake, I swear," she tilts her hips up, trying to grind against your face but to no avail. You lean backwards with a smirk. "Don't let him hear that. He's pretty proud of being a little shit," you counter and give her a sly wink. She rolls her eyes with a snort. "Then don't try and compete with him for that," her lips twist into a smirk of her own. Tenderly she grabs your chin, slowly tilting your head up to look deep into your eyes. "Or do you want me to beg before I can get your mouth on me?" she asks again, raising an eyebrow.

You grin like the cat who caught the canary. “Now, while I would love to hear that,” you croon as you slowly push down her underwear, unveiling her already slick pussy, “I had something else in mind.” With a little help from Layla you get her panties off of her and put them to the side. She spreads her legs invitingly and you lean down to kiss her mound. “Let me worship you,” you whisper against her skin before you swipe your tongue slowly between her folds.

Layla gasps as your tongue draws lazy circles over her clit. You gather more of her slick on your tongue, savoring her taste, before wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking gently. Layla's hands try to find purchase, to draw you even closer into her, finally holding onto your shoulders in a tight grip. You giggle against her pussy, delighted by her eagerness.

“Tell me how you want it, habibti . This is all for you,” you murmur lovingly. Before she can answer you give her clit another gentle suck and Layla curses under her breath. “Fuck, I don't know what's going to do me in first: your sweet-talking or your tongue on my clit,” she says breathlessly. Your smile turns into a smug grin. “Either way it's going to be my mouth that does it. So just relax and let me treat you like you deserve.”

It took you a while to be this bold with your affection, a little intimidated by how ridiculously gorgeous your partners are at first, but now it comes as easy to you as breathing. And to your knowledge your partners thoroughly enjoy that side of you too.

“Finger me?” Layla asks as if you could tell her no. Slowly you slide one finger inside her, thrusting in and out at a leisurely pace before adding a second finger soon after. “‘s this good?” you ask, pulling your mouth away from her dripping cunt just enough for her to hear you clearly. Her walls clench around your fingers, urging you to keep going deeper. She nods quickly. “Stop talking and keep going or I swear I'll-” Layla gasps as you dive back down between her legs to devour her. You curl your fingers inside her cunt, searching for the spot that will make her see stars. When a strangled moan escapes her lips you know you found it. Your fingers and mouth work in tandem, guiding Layla higher and higher towards her peak.

“Don't stop, please- oh fuck ”

Her thighs clamp down around your head, keeping you in place as her body trembles under your touch. Her walls tighten around your fingers as Layla comes undone. With your face buried in her pussy you can't see her face as she cums - to your great displeasure - but you feel her body tense with her orgasm and hear her high-pitched moans reverberate.

Slowing your pace, you gently finger Layla through her orgasm. You apply gentle pressure to her clit with your tongue before switching to placing tender kisses over her mound instead, careful not to overstimulate her. Only once her breathing has calmed down and you feel her stop twitching around your fingers do you remove yourself from her cunt.

Your lips and chin are soaked with her juices, as is your hand. With a satisfied smile you pull yourself up and take in the vision before you. Layla looks even more beautiful than before - if that is even possible. Her hair is a mess, some curls stick to her face while others frame her head like a halo. The rays of the rising sun reflect off of her now sweat-slick skin and give her an almost ethereal glow as she lays there between the crumpled sheets.

She looks divine .

“Get down here and cuddle with me,” Layla is beaming, arms outstretched towards you, beckoning, “I want to take care of you too.” You lay down next to her and as soon as you hit the mattress she is already pulling you into her embrace. “You don't have to,” you mumble as you nestle into her, “This was for you.”

It's quiet as you lay there, limbs a tangled mess. The only sounds filling the air are your breathing and the beating of your hearts.

“We should probably get up soon. Be productive or something,” you groan as you slowly try to get back up - to at least wash your hands and your face. Layla pulls you back down before you can even sit up straight. “I think,” she whispers into your ear seductively, “we can be plenty productive right here.” You laugh quietly and shake your head.

“Why do I have the feeling that your definition of that word is very different from mine?”

“What do you mean? Don't you think a round two would be productive?”

Her lips trail down your neck, her teeth nipping at your skin teasingly. You gasp as her hands find their way under your pajamas.

“Well, if you say it like that, who am I to argue?”

#moon knight #layla el faouly #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly/reader #moonknightevents #fran-writes #moon knight fanfic #moon knight smut #layla el faouly fanfic #layla el faouly smut

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dameronalone · 2 days

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hello people does anyone have any fic recs for moon knight (tv) that are focused on canon dynamics, especially jake centric and his relationship with Marc and Steven (and khonshu), that aren't ableist or treat him as the "violent, evil alter," or any (post)canon ones focusing on Marc and laylas relationship that don't end with them splitting up or.. is all of this too much to ask akadhakfks

#moon knight #moon knight fanfic #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #layla el faouly #moonscarab #moon knight system #also bonus points if any of them talk about them being autistic or if layla is disabled/nd/has a mental illness also 🫶

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seven4asecret · 4 months

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₊✩‧₊˚ Tipping The Scales Pt.1 ˚₊✩‧₊

Moonknight System x Layla x Gn! (Eventual Avatar) Reader

Content & Warnings: No pronouns, no Y/N, no Smut, descriptions of typical violence, eventual polyamory, & badly written fight scenes

A short fic following the show with a reader sensitive to otherworldly beings. I wrote this because I have beef with the show's Anubis erasure. Apologies for any errors & bad writing.

Ao3 Wattpad Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Chapter 1: A Dusty Ass Bird Man Won't Leave My Neighbor Alone

For as long as you can remember you've been able to see or sense things, whatever they might be. Spirits, guides, or guardians, you thought you had seen them all by now. It had become normal. Especially since beginning at the museum. It was common to see spirits watering around the exhibits. After all, the museum did house remains, and items of all sorts, each with a story. Even during tours, you would spot at least one person with some type of attachment. Perhaps, a deceased family member, a guide, or a protective spirit. So when you met Steven Grant and sensed the entity attached to him, you figured it was something similar.

As you spent time with Steven you were able to get a better feel for the entity, it became more tangible. It felt different, off in a way you hadn't felt before with others. So you waited, maybe time would allow your ability to reveal it. The entity hadn't appeared to be hostile, at least not yet. But you got a distinct feeling that it could be very dangerous if it wished, and it felt

very,

old.

And it knew!

It knew you could sense it, and it watched you.

When you were near it you found that it would respond. It would cause small, almost gentle gusts of wind, to brush against you, or the lights to flicker. You got the odd feeling that it was curious about you. Somehow, for some reason, you had caught the attention of something very old and powerful. You weren't quite sure what that meant.

Especially now.

Because it was looking right at you.

Across the museum showroom, it perched on top of a ledge. Whatever had clouded your ability to see it before had dissipated, leaving the entity finally visible. It was frightening, and unlike anything, you had seen before. It was a tall semi-humanoid skeletal bird, wrapped in old bandages, gripping a crescent-topped staff.

It tilted its head to the side, and your stomach dropped. You felt that it was examining you. Your hands shook, and you tightened the grip on your coffee. Your eyes darted to the right, catching a glance inside the nearby gift shop. Steven was there speaking to Donna. You looked back to the entity, only to feel its presence dissipate. Whatever it was, had left you for the time being. You let out a breath.

Donna passed you as she headed out, heels clicking against the tile floor. You took this as your chance. You stepped into the gift shop. Steven was sorting through the array of trinkets at the register, his curly hair a bit disheveled, and dark circles under his lidded eyes. You smiled fondly as you noticed the quirky Hawaiian-like shirt he wore.

You liked to think you knew Steven fairly well, despite you both working in different areas of the museum, yours being the Greco-Roman exhibit. Something about Steven caught your attention when you first saw him at the museum. Maybe it was because of the strange entity that followed him, perhaps it was because you could sense death at one time had a hold on him. Either way, your curiosity got the better of you. Your observations from afar eventually turned into conversations. It was tricky at first with how easily flustered he got, but you found it charming. He was a bit clumsy, often tripping over his own feet, and had a tendency to drift off in odd places. But it quickly became obvious how fond he was of Egyptian lore, you loved how happy and animated Steven would get when he talked about it. You found him enduringly awkward and made a point to speak to him when you could. It didn't take long for a friendship to form.

His face lit up as he saw you approach the register. Your heart skipped a beat at his smile.

"Hiya!" He gave you an adorable half-wave, "What brings you in here? Thought you'd be out touring by now."

You smiled, "I had a tour canceled last minute and made a coffee run. I thought you might want a little something." Steven had told you about his insomnia weeks ago as he walked with you to your shared building. You weren't surprised. You were a bit touched though. He trusted you enough to tell you about just how serious it was. While you couldn't do much to actually help him you tried to make work a little more bearable. And while you hadn't actually ever seen him drink coffee, you knew how he took his tea. He used a sickening amount of sugar and honey and-

"Oh! You didn't- You didn't have to do that. But I- I appreciate it, really. Thanks."

You handed him the still-steaming cup of tea. Your fingers brushed. You tried to ignore the sudden heat rising in your face. You hoped that he didn't notice.

"I don't mind. Gives me a chance to visit my favorite gift shop-ist." You caught a sheepish smile from him as he took a sip.

Your eyes scanned the shop, looking for a conversation starter. You spotted a sarcophagus poster behind him, and your smile widened.

Bingo.

His brows furrowed and he lowered his cup as he noticed the shit-eating grin on your face.

"Oh no, don't even think about it, I know exactly what that look means-"

"What's a mummy's favorite type of coffee?" You paused for dramatic effect. "De-coffin-ated!" You attempted to make finger guns the best you could while holding your coffee.

Silence.

"That was-" He shook his head, smiling softly, "that was terrible."

It was. But hey, you put a bunch of effort into researching Egypt-related jokes. It may have only been for Steven, but you were going to use them, even if they were terrible.

"I know, pretty bad. It was just too good to pass up." You take a sip of your coffee, suddenly a bit shy. "I um- I never got a chance to thank you for the book. It was nice of you to do."

A few weeks back you had mentioned to Steven that you had never gotten into Egyptian mythology. You knew barely anything about it, save for your fascination with the mummification process. You couldn't help but notice how fond Steven was of it. He would light up, eyes gleaming and gesturing excitedly as he mentioned historical facts. You loved to listen to him, he made it seem so intriguing. While you hadn't had any interest in Egyptian lore before meeting Steven, you certainly did now. When you told him about your curiosity on the subject he looked at you like you had made his day. And honestly, you probably had. On your next shift, when you opened your locker, you were surprised to find a book.

'Egyptian Mythology: Gods, Goddesses, and Lore of Ancient Egypt'

It looked well worn, and very much loved. Its pages were a bit yellowed and curved, and its spine had lines. You could easily tell this book had been read many many times. You opened the cover and saw a name scribbled into the top corner. It was Steven's. Steven was letting you borrow his book on Egyptian mythology. You flipped through the pages briefly, a colored tab grabbing your attention. You stopped, and read the note:

'Have a feeling you'll like this one' An arrow extended from the end of the sentence to the chapter title:

'Anubis: God of Mummification and Guardian of the Dead'

After this, you quickly developed an interest in the afterlife and Anubis. A bit morbid, but both fascinating and fitting.

"O-oh! It was nothing really," He blushed, "just nice to have someone else to talk about it y'know."

You nodded and began to fidget with your cup. "I was wondering if- you don't have to of course, but maybe you'd like to talk about it over lunch sometime or-"

"Sorry, can you give me a second?" Dylan, another tour guide, asked you.

"Oh! Yeah. Sure, of course." You stepped away from the register.

She turned to Steven, "Hello!"

"Hello." Steven looked a bit taken aback at her sudden appearance.

"How's the sugar trade going?"

"I don't know what this has to do with Egypt really." You smiled at his exasperated explanation as he fidgeted with an item." They didn't have that back then, did they? No. They liked figs and dates, and-"

"My next tour's here but just checking, are we still on for 7:00 tomorrow?" Your eyebrows raised.

'Oh. ' You glanced at Steven, heart sinking.

"7:00 tomorrow?"

"Best steak in town?"

"Oh, yeah. Right. Yeah. Yeah? Okay." He laughed. "Sorry. But... What? Are you asking me out?"

She laughed, "You're funny. I'll see you then."

"Stevie," Donna suddenly reappeared, "you absolute rascal. I didn't know you had taken a crack."

"I didn't know either." He sounded genuinely shocked, if not a bit confused.

"Steven," you asked," aren't you vegan?"

"Yeah."

"What in the world's a bloody vegan gonna eat in a steak house?" Donna said.

"I don't know, Donna. Salad? Bread?"

They did have great bread…

"Yeah, I can see why she went for it. Real catch you are." She rolled her eyes and left.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have a great time." You smiled softly, ignoring the pit forming in your stomach. You weren't jealous, you told yourself, you weren't. Dylan was nice and super smart, they'd have a nice time.

Steven nodded.

You glanced at your watch."I-I got to go, my next tour is probably here. It was nice to catch up."

"Laters!" He gave a small wave, which you returned as you left the shop. As you rounded the corner your eyes widened and you had to muffle a cry.

It was right there.

The large bird-man stood against the wall next to you. Your heart hammered against your chest. It turned its head and you could feel his non-existent eyes on you. You should just ignore it. After all, your tour was waiting. Instead, for some reason you greeted it.

"H-hello." Your voice shook.

You got the distinct feeling you had surprised it. You had never tried to speak to it before. It said nothing, just nodded its head in acknowledgment. You used this as a sign to continue, walking past it quickly, eyes fixed on the tiled floor below.

You took a breath in an attempt to settle yourself and walked toward your group. You introduced yourself and apologized for the delay.

"If you would follow me over here," You gestured with a sweeping motion, "you'll see the 'Pitsa pinakes', one the oldest known examples of panel painting in ancient Greece."

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You walked through the building entrance, carrying a few bags. Your favorite tea brand had been on sale and you may have overindulged. But, in your defense, this particular strawberry tea was horribly tricky to find now. You sighed, pressing the up button. The elevator doors opened, revealing a familiar figure curled up in the corner.

"Steven?" You blinked in surprise.

He moved the hand that had covered his mouth, blinking a few times before giving you a small pitiful wave.

"H-hello." He muttered a bit dazed as the doors closed.

"Are you- are you okay? What happened?" His eyes were wide and he was trembling. You wanted to ask him where on earth he had been. Maybe mention the fact that he had missed his shift for two days, had you worried sick, but this obviously wasn't the time.

"Yeah...yeah I'm fine, thanks." He stood slowly, continuing to shake as he tightly gripped something to his chest. You pressed the button for the fifth floor.

"I don't want to bother you...but are you sure you're alright?" You knew Steven to be a bit jumpy, of course, but you had never seen him so terrified before. You hated seeing him this way. "I could walk with you, or just stay with you a for a bit... If you want. It would be no problem really."

The elevator jerked suddenly, causing Steven to make a sound of surprise as it reached the floor. The doors opened and the lights flickered eerily.

"S-sorry. There was..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Hey, its alright. Its okay. You're okay." You attempted to calm him, placing your hand on his arm.

"N-No. No I'm not." Steven shook his head. He looked at you, his eyes threatening to spill with tears.

"I'm not okay. I-I lose time and forget things. I go to sleep but only I'm not asleep. And the dreams- I can't tell if I'm dreaming or awake. I-I'm seeing things. And now there's this thing following me. I think- I think I'm losing it. I think I'm broken. I don't know what to do..." His voice broke, " I'm- I'm scared."

"Steven." You started softly, "I can't pretend I understand what you're going through... but you're not broken. You just need a bit of help. How about we go to my place? I'll make you some tea and you can tell me everything there if you want. Okay?"

He blinked at you confused and a bit surprised, "Y-yeah. That'd be- that would be nice."

"It's just down here." You adjusted your bags to one arm and took his hand with the other. You walked a few doors down the hall, pulled out your keys, and opened the door to your flat. You dropped his hand.

"Sit anywhere you'd like, tea will be just a moment."

Steven hesitated a moment before moving to the couch. He sat and began to fidget with his sleeve as he waited.

Meanwhile, you quickly threw a kettle on the stove before sitting beside him.

"Okay, tell me what happened, what's going on?"

He took a breath, "I told you about the insomnia right?"

You nodded.

"Well, I- when I do sleep, I have a bit of a problem too. I sleep walk. End up in all sorts of weird places too. Used to be pretty bad but I've...I've had it under control. For a while at least. I had this crazy dream though! It felt so real. So I sit up, I have no idea where I am, and this voice keeps telling me to 'surrender the body'. I got no clue what it keeps going on about so I look around and next thing I know I'm being shot at-" Steven continues to explain this dream. It was definitely odd, and a bit disturbing. You weren't quite sure how much it had to do with him being huddled in an elevator.

The kettle screeched.

"I'm listening, one moment." You grabbed two cups and poured the tea. Three spoons of sugar, and two of honey went into Steven's tea. The man’s sweet tooth was horrid.

"Anyway, I wake up today and Gus, my fish, he's always had only one fin, right? But I wake up and see he's got two! Two! Crazy right? And I'm no expert on fish but I'm pretty sure they don't grow back fins, yeah? So I take him to the shop and I ask the lady about it. And she said that she told me yesterday that all the fish have two fins. Now I know I haven't been in there for weeks. I know I wasn't there yesterday!" Your brows furrowed at this as you stirred the ungodly amount of sugar into his cup.

"Then I look at the clock and it's six already! And that's not right 'cause I just woke up. Then I go meet Dylan and wait, and she never shows so I-"

You handed him his cup.

"Thanks. So I call her, turns out its Sunday. Our....our date was two days ago!" His voice wavers. " I think I've been- I don't know, blacking out? Loosing time? I get back to my flat, give not-Gus a few sprinkles, and drop the chocolates I got. Then I notice drag marks on the floor. And that doesn't make since. I never move that table. So I follow them, and poke around and found a loose board above me. I reach in and find a key and the phone here." He pulled the phone out of his pocket.

"I looked through it, just a bunch of missed calls from the same person. Layla. Then they call. I answer and she calls me Marc. Which is crazy right? Just like the dream! Of course I tell her I'm not him and she hangs up. Then I hear this voice telling me to stop looking, to stay away. I was sure it's was an intruder but I look in the mirror and my- my reflection shakes it's head. On. It's. Own."

He took a breath, "Then the wind started throwing stuff across my flat, and there was this awful looking t-thing chasing me and-"

Your stomach dropped. You knew instantly what he was talking about.

"Wait. Hold on." You set your tea down. In all the time you had sensed the entity you had never felt that it held any sort of aggression towards Steven. This was new, and this could be bad. "The bird-man tried to chase you?"

"Y-You've seen it too?" Steven looks at you, pure shock etched onto his face.

Oops.

You didn't mean to say that, you didn't want to freak him out more.

You set your cup down and took a breath, cringing as you elaborated. "When I met you I could... sense the entity but couldn't actually see it- until recently. "

"And you've- you've never told me? Its been following me this whole time?" He looked down at his tea, hurt.

You sighed, " I wanted to. But it can be a bit hard to tell someone they have an ancient entity attached to them. It never seemed to have any ill will towards you, in fact I got the feeling it was more protective. If I'd have thought it would have threatened you I would have mentioned it. I'm sorry Steven."

He sighed. "No, its-its okay, just- its a lot. Do you-" he glanced at you, "Do you see... things like that often or..."

You nodded, looking down at your forgotten tea. "Yeah. I have... my entire life."

"So it's a bit like a 'Sixth Sense' thing is it?" He gave you a soft smile, his dark eyes glistening. You almost let out a breath of relief at this. At least he wasn't too upset with you.

"A bit, actually." You chuckled, before becoming serious again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. Go on."

"N-No its fine. It just- it chased me into the elevator. When the doors opened and you were there I thought...I thought you might have been it."

You couldn't for the life of you understand what could have happened to make the entity's behavior change so drastically. You had no idea if any protection you could offer would work against something so old.

His voice wavered when he began to speak. "But the mirror...and the dreams...I'm-I'm not sure how much I see is real anymore."

It hurt you to see him like this panicked, and scared, and that you couldn't do anything to help him. His eyes began to tear up again.

"How do I know..." He paused. "Are- are you real?" Your heart broke when he looked up at you, uncertain. You set your cup down and took his hand, beginning to caress the back with your thumb. His eyes widened a bit at your gesture.

"Yeah...yeah, I'm real." You weren't sure what to do. What if he wanted you to prove it? If his dreams or hallucinations were just as vivid as reality, you couldn't. Instead, he released a breath in relief and to your surprise let his head drop to rest on your shoulder. Your heart pounded, and you hesitated a moment before resting your head on top of his.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, tracing your thumb against his hand, and listening to his breathing settle. You weren't sure how else to comfort him, but you wanted to do something. You hoped your company could at least provide him some comfort.

"This was...this was nice, having someone to talk to. Feels safe" He was tired. His voice was softer and slower, and his speech was more slurred so it would have been easy to miss what he said next:

"You make me feel safe." You were a bit surprised at his comment but relieved. You were glad you could do something for him, even if it was just that. Another moment of silence passed between you.

"I-I should go." He suddenly lifted his head and stood up, suddenly flustered.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" You weren't sure if it was a good idea. What if he blacked out? What if the bird-man did something to him?

"Yeah...I'll- I'll be fine." You walked him to the door, as he fidgeted nervously. "Thanks. For the- well, for everything, really."

"I'm happy to help!" You opened the door, and Steven stepped into the hallway.

"Laters!"

"Steven, wait." You ducked back into your flat and grabbed a scrap of paper. You quickly scribbled on it. "I-if you need anything, or if something happens again, just text me okay?" You nervously passed him the paper. He took it and glanced at it, eyes widening a bit.

"O-oh." He blinked, "Yeah...yeah I will, thanks... Laters gators!"

"In a while, Crocodile" You smiled fondly at him as he perked up a bit at the saying. He gave you a wave, which you returned, and walked off towards his flat.

Ao3 Wattpad Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

#moon boys #moon knight #moon knight fic #steven grant fic #moon knight fanfic #Moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x gender neutral reader #ao3 #jake lockley #marc spector #layla el faouly #khonshu #khonshu x reader #steven grant #steven grant my beloved #TippingTheScales #TTS

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cvntbutch · 1 year

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Made a silly little tumblr to post art on, so here’s musa sitting at a bus stop in Magix

#winx #winx musa #winx club #winx fanart #winx redesign #winx fanfic #winx flora #winx icy #winx rivusa #winx bloom #winx stella #winx tecna #winx aisha #winx layla

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laylajeffany · 2 months

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Llama, Llama Baby Drama | Wenclair One-Shot for @based7100

Summary: Enid gets an emergency call to babysit on a date night. When Wednesday shows up with intentions of having it anyway, they have a much-needed conversation about their future. (separate from my established Wenclair universe in CftF or Black Menagerie) WC: 4,979 (STILL UNDER 5K OKAY) Rated: All Ages

trigger warning: a baby

Prompted by @based7100, "Wednesday and Enid having the do you want kids talk" as part of my >5k writing (post-taxes) challenge

“Why is it sticky?” Wednesday asked with a grimace as Enid tickled the baby that was perched on her hip. The infant gave a loud squeal of laughter that drew a deeper cringe from Wednesday at the sudden pitch.

“She is sticky because she just ate, and I didn’t want you breaking and entering and setting off the home alarm! You’re lucky I have werewolf hearing, otherwise I would have made you be the one to settle her down.” Enid said with a smile of exasperation, opening the door wider, allowing Wednesday entry to a townhouse. Enid pressed buttons on a keypad when Wednesday came into the doorway of the space with some agitated trepidation. Monsters, serial killers – entering the lair of either would’ve brought her glee, but entering the space of an eight-month-old was like being dropped into a hostile landscape without adequate preparation.

She noted Enid in her stocking feet and untied her boots, staring up at Enid and the little she with unblinking eyes, attempting to assert her dominance in the small person’s home. Enid just rolled her own and gave Wednesday a peck on the cheek as she stood tall again, clutching her backpack strap. Enid looked at the entryway clock and added, “I’m going to get her cleaned up – it’s close enough to time – I’m going to get her in the bath if you wanna just make yourself comfortable! You’re like, forty minutes early, so don’t blame me that you’re bored!” The baby stuck her entire fist into her mouth, gurgling while a trail of saliva slipped her all the way down to her elbow. Again, Wednesday was sure she made a face, unable to help her disgust.

Make yourself comfortable was quite a loaded statement, as Wednesday didn’t have a portable bed of nails handy. She and Enid had their third Saturday night date cancelled in a row; the last minute “emergency” babysitting request coming through from a Normie family she’d made friends with in Jericho (really, Wednesday considered grandma falling down the stairs more of a coming of age event than an emergency) dampening a makeup date from a makeup date. Unable to tolerate three weeks in a row of a Saturday night without her girlfriend, Wednesday had cautiously accepted the invitation to come over after the baby was in bed. The child’s mother had said that was acceptable – and though she feared becoming a 80s movie babysitter cliché of making out on the couch while there was a killer outside, she’d taken the chance as the next week was supposed to be just as busy for the seniors at the end of their school year as they’d all been. (It was unlikely the house had a landline for anyone to ask if Enid had checked on the baby, anyway.)

Enid disappeared with her down the hall, using a different tone in her voice than usual to talk to the baby, who obviously couldn’t comprehend what she was saying regardless of her cadance. Staring after them for a long minute, Wednesday gave a tiny blink and took a look around – finding a stereotypical portrait of a family sitting in a field of leaves with their infant from the fall. The picture-perfect matchy-matchy white, suburban American aesthetic completely draining her before she even properly entered the home.

Exiting the foyer into the living area, she recoiled a touch at the explosion of color and plastic toys. Wishing she’d brought Thing to put him to work, she thought about perching herself on the edge of the wooden rocker in the room, not touching anything when she realized – if she didn’t pick up the toys while Enid was picking up the baby, it would just be that much longer before they’d be able to sit together on the plush loveseat under the window.

Wednesday let out a silent sigh, dropping her shoulders, taking a sharp glance around trying to figure out the organizational method when she realized – there wasn’t one. Unable to tolerate such a disaster, she began sorting the toys into piles, little rubbery blocks with forever chemicals laced into them together, tiny plastic people that probably had lead in the paint, and stuffed animals that had polyurethane filling which would outlive them all.

She found a few collapsible baskets that had never been put together near a stack of unopened mail on a bench, keeping everything separate as she got it off the floor. She rolled up the blankets, then went so far as to wipe down the tabletop when she couldn’t identify the crusty material that was gathered on top, using a deplorable smelling baby wipe.

It seemed like Enid at least hadn’t been forced to make anything for the baby, as there was just a spoon and a little plate in the sink and cleaning off the high chair tray. (Wednesday could handle blood spatter, entrails, and digging through bones, but honestly – the mush and droll were going to push her over the edge.) After putting everything that seemed dirty in the dishwasher, Wednesday followed the sounds of splashing and giggles to the bathroom down the hall.

Enid was on her knees in front of a tub, where the baby was in some sort of special seat. Not sure if she needed to avert her gaze for privacy, Wednesday almost disappeared but Enid shook her head, “You can come in! It’ll be a few minutes. Bailey loves to play in the water!”

Bailey. That was surely, the name of a dog, not a human child. Certainly – not an adult someday who needed to enter the workforce someday.

Avoiding yet another dramatic sigh out her nose, Wednesday hovered, her arms crossed as she stared the child down, who dropped her silly little face full of joy at the leer. Bailey frowned severely, suddenly – and Wednesday took the cue to leave, wandering into the baby’s nursery.

The room was surprisingly neutral, which Wednesday did appreciate with the lack of stereotypical pink. The baby’s crib was simple, and though Wednesday might’ve joked about smothering Enid in her sleep the first day they’d met, she knew that it was important to just keep a fitted sheet on so the baby didn’t manage to do so to themselves. There was a second rocking chair – a glider, in the corner, a small bookshelf, overflowing with titles, a dresser that seemed to be doubling as a changing table, based on the diapering supplies, and a few unopened boxes of toys that she probably wasn’t developmentally prepared to play with stacked in the corner. The walls had simple wooden, cut-out letters that read the girl’s name, and three photos above the dresser of her with the family, a few peel-and-stick bunnies at her eye-level beneath them.

Wednesday squatted down to examine the child’s literature selection, shaking her head in disapproval. How did they expect to raise a well-rounded child if she lacked the classics? There wasn’t a Homer, Miguel de Cervantes, Shakespeare, Stephen King, or even a single Orwellian novel on display. Her own father had been sure to get through all of the works of Poe and War and Peace before Wednesday had even left the womb!

Pulling out a few titles that didn’t sound horrendous, Wednesday shook her head at the modern children’s literature; thinking it was a damn shame that some of the best sellers clearly had no concept of rhythm. What a chore some of the books would be to have to read aloud, a near burden and waste of a tree’s time on earth.

She sat in the glider with a stack, ready to provide Enid with what she hoped would be interpreted as a humorous, critical review of some of the books, when her girlfriend came in with the baby all wrapped up in a towel, cheeks rosy – but significantly cleaner. “Forgive me, baby Bailey – I was so rude not to properly introduce you. This is Wednesday. Don’t mind the glare, that’s her friendly one.”

Wednesday was about to start her joke reception of Brown Bear, Brown Bear but Enid kept talking. She took out a yellow onsie with ducks on it, placing Bailey on her back on the changing pad, giving that same high, fake voice that was just so grating, even from someone she loved. “Okay, sweet baby – let’s get all dry…yeah, we’ll dry your little feet-feet-feet,” The baby kicked and laughed while Enid kept going, rubbing the towel along her. “And your legs-legs-legs,” She shifted into sing-song, “And your belly-belly-belly, and your arms-arms-arms…”

It went on for so long. Wednesday just continued to watch the spectacle, as she started with a disposable diaper and then worked her into the front-zipper pair of baby pajamas. “All done!” She waved her hands in a way that Wednesday knew was sign-language, and the baby copied it. Enid kissed her all over her face, making Baily whirl in happy sounds and Wednesday was sure, she was glowering, unable to help her jealousy – even if it was a baby she was being paid to watch getting Enid’s physical and emotional attention.

Finally, Enid completed the scene, looking at Wednesday with a seriously sort of expression. “We’re almost done. Can you hang in there?” She asked, using nearly the same voice that she had for the baby. Practically growling, she was about to stand up, when Enid developed an evil sort of twinkle in her eye and came forward, depositing Bailey suddenly onto Wednesday’s lap. Thankfully – she had some sort of protective instinct, and her reflexes kicked in before she could let the baby fall backwards. She went to make a snide, argumentative comment, but Enid just wasn’t having it. “Start reading to her, I’ll make her bottle, and we can be done in half the time.”

“Enid – I can’t –!?”

“Read?” She teased sassily, putting her hands on her hips, perching a brow. “Nice try. Here, she loves this one,” She reached down to a paperback (the very feeling of the thin cardboard cover making Wednesday’s skin crawl) with a worried looking farm animal on top.

Before she could protest again, Enid adjusted Bailey more in Wednesday’s lap, putting her back closer to her chest. Bailey looked at Wednesday with as much certainty as she returned, looking like she was about to cry. “Start reading and she’ll totes be fine.”

“Enid, I swear –”

At the empty threat, Enid dashed out of the room and down the hall. Wednesday let out a breath, grumbling, “Llama, Llama, Red Pajama…creative. Endlessly, creative.”

With a sigh, she started to read and Bailey settled at the familiar rhyme. Wednesday followed through, managing to go for the first few pages until she read, “Llama, Llama, red pajama feels alone without his mama. Baby Llama wants a drink…oh, no. No, no, no. This Llama is playing games with his caregiver and she needs to ignore him before she develops horrific behavior cycles that take years to break. Next thing she knows, she’s going to have nine-year-old llama walking in on mama and dada llama fornicating and traumatizing him like Pugsley because they never put an end to his bedtime drama. Oh, llama, drama – I suppose that’s nearly clever.”

Sighing, she flipped through the pages to find that indeed, the mother gave into the child’s tantrum and Wednesday snapped the book shut. Reaching into a stack, she pulled out another title. “Fine, Corduroy. At least Lisa understands that the value of something doesn’t lay necessarily in the perceived perfection of it, but in what it means to the individual. This is a better message for you to internalize.”

With that, she found herself actually gliding the chair back and forth, starting and finishing the story. Bailey yawned and gave a clap at the end, looking up at Wednesday, squeezing her hands open and shut.

Enid gave an amused chuckle from the doorway, shaking a bottle. “It’s right here, sweet girl.” Bailey kicked her little feet and reached her hands for it. Enid gave her the bottle and she held it with one hand, using the other to twirl at her own, light-brown hair as her eyes instinctively went half shut, but turned back to the book. Wednesday tried to hand her over, but Enid winked. “I think you’ve got this. Look, she’s relaxing on you!”

“I don’t like this,” Wednesday grumbled, but didn’t fight it too hard, not wanting to make the baby choke. In general, she wasn’t about to be the good Samaritan to help somebody experiencing that in public, as it seemed like a solid natural consequence, but she didn’t want to be the reason that Enid lost her babysitting gig. (She stubbornly refused to always allow Wednesday to pay for things and insisted on odd jobs around town to make her own money.)

“You’re doing great,” Enid promised, kneeling at her side, putting a hand on Wednesday’s knee. “It’s good to challenge yourself to do things that make you uncomfortable.”

She flickered her gaze down to the hand on her knee, wishing it were elsewhere on her body… “Give me another book,” She demanded as the baby was practically guzzling her bedtime bottle.

With two more selections (far better choices for her interest level of reading aloud to an infant – though she swore, if she ever ended up coming again, she’d bring some proper literature), Wednesday closed the third story up and looked at Enid, who was looking at her with…

…fondness? Desire? She couldn’t quite read the emotion. As the baby finished, Wednesday passed her over to Enid, where she curled instinctively into her neck, holding onto her shoulder with a contented sigh. Watching the sight herself for a long moment, she started to feel a strange discomfort and took the empty bottle, excusing herself as Enid started to pat her back and rock her to sleep.

With simple deduction in the kitchen that the bottle required to be hand-washed, Wednesday completed the task, then found Enid’s phone on counter. Unlocking it and logging into her own account for a food delivery application, she placed an order for a local favorite that was still open at the evening hour, and wrote threatening instructions not to knock or ring the bell. If that baby woke once it was placed in the crib, so help her…

It was hardly ten minutes later that Enid stepped out of the room with a little monitor in her hand, placing it on the end table that had little rubber bumpers on the corners, giving a stretch and a yawn before looking at the stiff-sitting Wednesday fondly.

“Hey,” She greeted, plopping herself down on the loveseat, turning right into her.

“Howdy,” Wednesday spoke in reply. “Is the small gremlin asleep?”

Rolling her eyes again, Enid put a hand on Wednesday’s cheek, turning it towards her to press a long, sweet kiss on her lips. “She’s out. Thanks to your help. I appreciate it.”

“I have been told I have a soothing reading voice,” Wednesday spoke of herself, squaring her shoulders a little bit. “I would still prefer to have been at the steakhouse and then stargazing in the cemetery with you, though.”

“I know,” Enid wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry. I’d usually say no to a same day request – but nana in the E.R. is a pretty valid reason. Imagine poor Bailey stuck there with them all night? She’d have been miserable.”

“You seem to do a good job at keeping her happy. I claim she’s still sticky, though.”

“Wednesday, she’s a baby,” Enid gave a tired chuckle, leaning back on the couch, intertwining their hands. “Thank you for being willing to even come over. I thought you might give me the silent treatment tonight.”

“I considered it,” She said honestly. “But…with time fleeting from us so quickly these days, only a month left until graduation – it seems prudent to spend as much time together as we possibly can, even if it includes minors.”

“Hopefully it’s a one-time thing. I told Bailey’s mama when I got here, I think that emergencies-pending, I’m tapping out for the rest of the year. There’s way too much fun left to be had and I don’t want to regret missing out for cash.”

“As I have repeatedly insisted, it is unnecessary. But I understand the desire to be productive and contribute to capitalism in your own way. I do hope you told her, she’s not allowed to have any emergencies next weekend.”

Giving almost a purr of a sound, Enid traced Wednesday’s jaw. “Not when I’ve convinced you to be my date to the Dark Prom.”

“As if I’d let you go alone,” Wednesday let out a little breath through her nose. “I’ve ordered dinner, so we can still have a touch of our date tonight as well.”

“Thank you,” Enid said quietly, kissing her again. “Hey…while we wait for that…let’s chat, since the topic is indirectly here, anyway.”

At the sound of sincere need for a challenging conversation, Wednesday’s defenses immediately went up. “Or I could pull you onto my lap and have you put your tongue in my mouth.”

“Well, I’m going to do that, anyway,” Enid giggled, straddling her to prove the point, giving her a long kiss. Thinking she was off the hook, Wednesday went to slide her hands along her back, just above her hot-pink pants, when Enid caught them and brought them together near her chest, pushing a kiss to her fingers. “We should talk.”

“We should keep doing that.”

“I’m serious,” Enid said quietly. “Look, I love you, so much. But – you’ve been very clever and used incredible evasive tactics each time we’ve tried to have a chat on any sort of serious front like the one that we really need to.”

Feeling trapped, Wednesday’s heartrate doubled in speed and she had to exercise every molecule of self-restraint she had not to shove her girlfriend to escape the situation. “I know, you’re not afraid of anything, but the future…it’s nerve wracking to think about. And, unfortunately – it’s really only a month away. I love you. I know that I love you, and I know that you love me, too. But we do need to start talking about what we want in life beyond just that we love each other. For your mom and dad, it was so easy – as they graduated Nevermore, they just ran off on trips and quests and got married and had more fun than they knew what to do with. We already know that our lives are going to be different than that. So…I just want to talk about that, a little bit – before we makeout anymore, okay?”

“Enid…” Wednesday tried to avoid her gaze. “I didn’t come over her to make things difficult, I thought since you would put the baby to sleep by seven-thirty, we could just spend time together-”

“We are. We will. But…Wednesday – do you want to have babies with me someday?”

Feeling like the springs in the couch cushions had just given out, popped her off and through the roof – Wednesday knew the color drained right out of her face, her eyes glazed over and when no words could form in her throat –

“Hey, hey…” Enid put her hands on her cheeks, snapping her awareness back. She pushed a sweet kiss to Wednesday’s lips and tilted her head. “Stay with me. I think that I’ve got my answer.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Wednesday responded with far more hostility than she needed to.

“Okay, okay…” Enid lifted her hands up in defense and sighed. “I’m sorry. That was so not a good way to lay that out there. But I’ve been trying to ask you more direct questions for months and you always avoid them, Wednesday. It’s frustrating! I want to plan for the future, and I want a future with you. I just want to know what that means.”

Wednesday swallowed thickly, trying not to feel overwhelmed and guilty. Her pulse was throbbing in her ears, her palms were sweaty –

“I told my mother that I would never be like her. I would never be a housewife, or a mother.”

There was a flicker on Enid’s face. Barely there, but obvious to the girl who knew her the most, who knew her the best, who loved her more than she’d ever thought possible.

“I mean, we’d be working, no doubt,” Enid said through a bubble of barely concealed emotion. “I can’t see you ever just wanting to sit about at home, and even if you were, you’d be writing or composing music or solving contracted murder cases, for sure…”

Cutting off her ramble as guilt was the next emotion that she started to experience, Wednesday hated how her harsh could snap out Enid’s light so quickly, even when she tried to hide it. “I…didn’t mean…Enid, when you just throw these things at me, I’m bound not to have an eloquent speech planned.”

“Well,” Enid shrugged, biting her lip. “We’ve talked about being married. That it might be possible for us. Just know – I’m open to having a family with you. Whether that’s us and a disembodied hand and a one-eyed cat, or us and a little…human-person, you know, I’m open to it. Just so you know.”

Getting a little lost in her comment, Wednesday popped a questioning brow. “Why would the cat only have one eye?”

Enid recoiled a little. “You seriously think you’d have a normal pet? Be real, Wednesday. The one-eyed cat would be a sign that he’s a street fighter. That’s way more your style than a cuddly, perfect Persian.”

Wanting to acknowledge the other part of Enid’s sentence, she found words locked in her throat again. She gave a shrug and balled her hands into fists at either side of Enid’s ankles on the couch.

“We know we have the next four years together, so like – this isn’t a convo that has to happen right now, I guess. I’ve just…read, that the longer a couple takes to talk about their wants and desires for the future, the more challenging it is if those things are different from one another. I don’t want things to be challenging with you. I love you. And I want to know – your wants, so that…I can prepare myself for making them happen.”

She leaned forward and initiated a kiss and Wednesday immediately felt her heart rate drop. After letting it go on long enough that her hair was a little messy in the back from Wednesday’s wandering hands, Enid pulled away with a wink, wanting to check the baby monitor. “Oh, she’s out. I had her outside until just before she needed dinner. The fresh air always does that.”

Just as Wednesday was about to try and tug her in for more affection, an alert on Enid’s phone indicated that the food had arrived. She deactivated and reset the alarm after securing it in her hands. “It’s no steak, but carne asada will totally do instead of whatever frozen post-partum diet food Bailey’s mama has in the freezer. Ick.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes. “A mother feeling pressure to return to her pre-pregnancy size is such a horrific societal pressure that needs to be popped.”

Enid brought them plates and forks, giving an approving sigh. “I know, right? Like – you just grew a whole-ass human! Give yourself a minute, mama – you just performed a miracle, and you should appreciate your body.”

Biting back a comment befitting her father of appreciating Enid’s body, Wednesday thanked her for the dinnerware and served them, listening to Enid blather about how excited she was for the following weekend and all the songs she hoped the DJ would play, singing a few dramatically to remind Wednesday of how they went (as if she could forget the earworms).

After taking care of the dishes and putting the leftovers in the fridge, Wednesday knelt in front of Enid as she flipped through a streaming app, knowing it would be some time before she landed on something for them to watch.

When she put her hands on Enid’s knees, the same way that Enid had done when she was rocking the baby, Wednesday locked eyes on hers. Enid dropped the remote. “You okay?” She asked in a serious, worried way, rubbing her shoulder.

Nodding, Wednesday let out a breath through her nose and shrugged. “I’m open…to whatever feels right for us.”

Enid lowered her hand from her shoulder to take Wednesday’s both in hers. “You don’t have to say that just because I said it first,” She promised. “I meant it as in, there’s no pressure, like - one way or the other. I’m serious. I just want a life with you.”

“What if we found a two eyed cat…and a one-eyed child at the same time?”

Blinking, Enid smirked. “I’m not sure what circumstances would lead to that, but of course. I don’t care how many eyes a kid has. If it feels like they’re part of our family, of course they should join it!”

Wednesday gave a curt nod, finding the words that had been locked away. “I don’t know that I’d ever want to carry a child. Physically, I mean – in utero. It seems like a distressing invasion of my personal space that I’m not sure I would ever recover from, and not due to societal standards of looking a certain, outward way afterwards.”

Enid’s eyes grew a watery sheen to them. “Of course, Wednesday. We’d never put you through something that made you uncomfortable that way. I’m, ugh,” She groaned. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by practically forcing you to hold baby Bailey earlier. That was wrong, I’m s-”

“That was an okay sort of discomfort,” Wednesday promised. She’d very much survived that moment. “It’s good to prove to myself that I can be gentle sometimes. But…maybe – if we don’t happen upon any orphans with limb differences who need space in our home, and you feel that you would like to carry a child and technology advances in such a way that it is possible for them to share our genetic makeup and we have space and have open hearts and we decide it’s what’s best for us and our family in our situation -”

Enid cut off her near-breathless ramble with a very sweet kiss. “I love you. I love this. Keeping our hearts open. That’s all I wanted to know, Wednesday.” She beamed at her. “You did a great job with Bailey, tonight.”

“You’re the natural. I would likely have a large learning curve.”

Enid raised a brow. “I’m not so sure. I think if it was a child of your own, not one already on a firm schedule and routine, you’d be quite instinctive. What aren’t you good at Wednesday?”

“Engaging in conversations and expressing my feelings,” She muttered as she proved that very point that night.

“Well, it’s not your strength, but both are totally mine, so – that’s where you lean on me, because I’m your partner, who loves you. And,” She kissed her again. “I appreciate you, coming out here tonight, just to spend this time with me like we’d planned. And having this tough talk. I love you. Come put your butt on this couch so I can sit on you and kiss you again.”

Not needing to be told twice, Wednesday took that direction very well, enjoying about twenty minutes of heated kisses, heavy petting and almost a little bit more when a fussing sound came from the monitor.

Enid groaned as she pulled away. “Right now, my heart is so not open to this,” She giggled.

Wednesday smirked, following her, having an idea as they moved to the nursery. Bailey was crying, mostly asleep, but wanting…something.

“I’ll change her real quick,” Enid whispered, nodding, “That bedtime bottle will run right through a baby.”

As Bailey whined and grumbled when Enid made to lay her back down in the crib, letting out a loud cry that made Wednesday wince, she shook her head, reaching her arms out. “I’ll talk to her.”

With an amused smirk, Enid passed her over and Wednesday sat back in the gliding chair, holding her awkwardly in front of her, explaining to the baby, who stopped, staring at her with exhausted eyes, “You’re fine. You’re safe. You’re warm. You’re full. You’re dry. You have everything you need, except about ten more hours of sleep. So, I’m going to rock you, and in five minutes, I’m putting you back in the crib, and you’re going to sleep. Do you understand?”

It was as if the baby said ‘yes’ when she gave a coo, reaching forward. Wednesday gave a curt nod. “That’s the rule. Five minutes of rocking, then back to bed.”

With the firm expectation set, she brought Bailey up to her shoulder the way she’d seen Enid do earlier. She snuggled right in, surprisingly – and thankfully – she wasn’t overtly sticky or snotty, as Enid had wiped her face pretty well after changing her. Gliding back and forth and patting her back, Wednesday thought that perhaps – if she had a beautifully haunting Russian composition playing softly in the background, it would help her stay asleep – adding that to her mental toolbox of notes in case the situation ever arose for her to develop a routine with a baby…

As she expected, once she’d put her foot down with the rule, Bailey knocked out on her shoulder. Enid whispered and motioned for how to transfer her into the crib, and as she did so, onto her back, Wednesday almost smiled at their tag-team success.

Back in the hallway, Enid winked and gave her a kiss. “You are a natural, Wednesday. You just do things in your own way. Now come here,” She gripped her collar, making Wednesday flush. “I’m about to have my own way with you.”

#wednesday 2022 #fanfic #oneshot #wenclair #author hates babies #thank you for the prompt this was so easy to write I did half of it on my prep period today lol #also fuck llama llama so hard #he's banned in my classroom as is Pete the damn Cat and Skippy Jon Jones #layla's >5k challenge

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