Adelinde, You Havent Changed Much

adelinde, you havent changed much

“Get over yourself, McLean” - Chris McLean x reader

Author’s Note: I honestly don’t know but enjoy anyway. Reader is gender-neutral. 

Warning: TOXIC LOVE

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:**:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–

  There’s a lot of things you could say about Chris McLean. Of course, you could go on and on about his charming attitude with the cameras or his brilliant ideas when it comes to reality TV. You could also say a few things about his personal life too.

  When his current manager called you one evening to ask if you would consider taking a position in McLean’s new show, you almost hung up. There was no way you were working with your ex-boyfriend of all people. However, being the respectable and polite celebrity you were, you allowed them to explain the situation.

  You still chuckle at yourself for accepting. They reciprocated with eager that they needed a co-host for an upcoming show called Total Drama Island. They wanted someone more level-headed to contrast from Chris’s boisterous personality. It will consist of twenty-two contestants going through different trials put on by Chris, all competing for tabloid fame and a small fortune.  Even if he was striking by himself, the show would do so much better with someone to balance the care for the campers. Who better than the old power duo of (Y/N) (L/N) and Chris McLean?

  You knew what they were actually doing, a wolf in sheep’s clothing scenario. The directors wanted a host romance, or at least allow the audience to make up theories about your relationship with the Host with the Most. Honestly, you didn’t care. There was no way you were falling in love with him again. You only had to deal with him for eight weeks, then never see his stupid face for the next decade. 

    When your yacht came up onto the dock of the island, you immediately cringed by the smell that hung in the air. The island itself featured a few rickety cabins and a mess hall that looked like it was minutes from collapsing. You almost felt bad for the teenagers who would be staying here, but it’s not like they didn’t sign a contract. Even if they were promised a stay at a five-star resort.

  “Let me help you with your bags,” a gruff voice says from behind you. You recognized it to be Chef, an old friend of Chris. You recall that he’s a rough character, but he was always kind to you. You assume it was because you were Chris’s old sweetheart. He was invited to the wedding, after all. Times do change, don’t they?

  “Sure. Didn’t think I’d see you here. Nice to see you again,” you say sweetly, handing him one of your bags.

  “Yeah… I didn’t think I would be here either,” Chef grumbles, taking another suitcase and throwing it over his shoulder, “I’m surprised you actually showed up.”

  “Come on, it’s not like me to put down a challenge! Mind showing me where we’re staying?”

  He nods, walking past you with a rugged smile. “It’s just, you and Chris… You fell out, yeah? When was the last time you talked?”

  “The campers are sure in for a treat when they arrive, huh?” You say, stretching your arms over your head with a yawn. 

  “Short Stack,” he answers with the nickname he used to call you, “You know he’ll wanna talk to you.”

  “I’m an adult, Chef. I know what I got myself into.”

~~~~~~~~~~

  Actually, seeing Chris was harder than you thought it was going to be. You wanted to run and hide as you made your way back to the dock. The first episode was airing tonight, and the crew wanted to make sure everything was prepared for when the contestants arrived. Old memories swirl in your thoughts as he turns in your direction. As much as you wanted to turn away from his overambitious smile, you had to stay professional. The camera crew gets you mic-ed up, before directing you to your designated spot.

  “I’m so stoked you accepted the offer,” Chris grins.

  “I don’t usually decline a gig either,” you reply coolly as you straighten the creases of your sheer blouse.

  “Starting in five!” Someone calls out.

  “So excited to work with you again! Just like old times, huh?” He says with the same enthusiasm he always has. He places an arm around you, rubbing your side.

  You smack his hand away. “We are co-worker, Mr. McLean. Act like it.”

  “I am!” He whines as he shakes the stinging sensation from his fingers. “(Y/N)-bear, no need to be that way!”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  “You used to love it.”

  “Key word: used to. Get over yourself, McLean.”

  Chris is quiet for a moment, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re still mad about that?”

  Your eyes narrow at him, and he frowns for the first time.

  “You know it wasn’t like that,” He pouts. 

  “I’m not talking about this,” you hiss through your teeth.

  “She flirted first-”

  “It was a freaking interview- shut up. Just shut your mouth. We are here to host, nothing more. I’m not here to start up old drama.”

  “See a yacht- starting in 5, 4, 3. 2,- ACTION!” A director announces.

  Both you and Chris beam for the cameras. You stood tall, putting on a friendly façade for the viewers. On the inside, you wanted to strangle Chris.

 “Welcome back to Total Drama Island!” Chris proclaims, his arms stretched out wide, “I’m your host, Chris McLean, with everyone’s beloved (Y/N) (L/N)!”

 “Great to be here, Chris!”

 “Awesome. It’s time to meet our first eleven campers!”

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:**:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–

͙۪۪̥˚┊❛And They Were Roommates ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

Being Alhaitham's and Kaveh's flat mate would include...

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ♦ First of all, you are kind of the black sheep between you three. Instead of going with your brain, you stick with your more artistic side. ♦ Alhaitham and Kaveh don't really mind the spontaneity you carry. As long you are not hurting yourself, they leave you be. ♦ They aren't overprotective, because they know you candle your own devices. Just know that they will have an eye out for you, even when you least expect it. You are their friend after all. ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

♠ The whole point on why you moved to Sumeru City is because your parents got you a scholarship in the Ackedemyia. From a long line of scholars, you are expected to do the same. Alhaitham knows you could care less about the works; however, he finds himself keeping you on track with a special made schedule. Maybe it's because he doesn't want his reputation to suffer, or it may be that you aren't going to do it yourself. Either way, be grateful he keeps up with your busy mind. ♠ You have found that you like to crochet bookmarks for Alhaitham. He insists that he doesn't need them and that he can remember where he left off just fine on his own. Though he grumbles and complains, you can find your creations stuffed in his many books. Don't call him out though or he'll get ticked off. ♠ Surprisingly, Alhaitham loves to chat with you about books. He'll recommend series he thinks you'll enjoy or gossip about publishes' plots and characters.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ

♣ When he's home, Kaveh likes to indulge himself in whatever you do. Your painting? He'll be your model. You need help writing? He'll give you suggestions and tips. He'll even join you for yoga. Just be warned though, he will get very playful. ♣ When Kaveh argues with Alhaitham about furniture, he tries to get you to agree with him. It usually ends up with you and him ganging up on the poor Sage. Imagine Kaveh's surprise when the one time he complains about a lamp, he completely broke when you said you refurnished it yourself.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ:

Author's Note: This is a bit short and I'm sorry Kaveh isn't as loved as Alhaitham. I'm soft for both of them though and needed to indulge myself. I hope you enjoyed regardless. 😭

Jess Asks for Help

Dean x sister! reader x Sam

Inspired by Episode 1

Description: As Dean is trying to convince Sam to join the the expedition to find dad, the youngest Winchester helps Sam's girlfriend in the kitchen.

╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼

        The road was eerily vacant as Dean slowly presses the gas pedal on the Impala. He stops in front of a particular building, observing the complex for any openings he could get into.

        "So, this is where Sammy lives?" (Name) whispers from the backseat, nervous to speak any louder in fear of somehow alerting someone.

        "Yeah," Dean replies while putting the key in his jacket. He steps out of the car, leaning down to look at his sister. "Stay in the car; I'll be back in a few."

        "Okay," she murmurs, leaning slightly against the driver's seat. "Hurry back." He nods before shutting the door.

        Soon enough though, (Name) got bored. She retraces her brother's steps and begins to climb up the building with the upmost caution. She makes it to the window and crawls in.

"(Name)-"                       

"I thought I told you to stay in the car."

        Two voices spoke at the same time. Both of her brothers were standing a few feet from the window. A smile etches across the young Winchester's face. She races to hug her second oldest brother. "Sam!"

        Hey, how are you?" Sam asks softly, gently wrapping his arms around her.

        "I missed you," She says.

        "Sam?" a woman's voice calls from the doorway. Light sheds through the room as a lamp turns on, revealing a pretty blondie in her sleepwear.

        "Jess... hey," Sam says, pushing his sister away slightly. He looks at Dean, frowning. "Dean, this is my girlfriend Jessica."

        "Wait, your brother Dean?"Jessica questions with a small smile, "so this must be (Name)," she said, looking at the only girl in the room besides her.

        "I love the smurfs," Dean says suddenly, a lazy grin on his face. (Name) rolls her eyes. "You know, I gotta tell you, you are way out of my brother's league." Dean proceeds to get closer to Jessica, ignoring the fact his siblings were still in the rooms.

        "Just let me put something on," Jessica replies, glancing at Sam for help. 

        "no, no, no. I wouldn't dream of it... seriously. Anyway, I got to borrow your boyfriend  here to talk about some private family business but, uh, nice meet'n you."

        "No," Sam states boldly as he walks over to Jess's side, "no, whatever you want to say, you can say in front of her."

        "Ok," Dean says, "um, Dad hasn't been home in a few days."

        "So he's working overtime, he'll stumble back in sooner or later," Sam retorts coolly. 

        "Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days." Silence fills the room as Sam thinks for a brief moment.

        "Jess, excuse us." the brothers walk towards the door, leaving behind the two females in the room.

        "(Name)," Jess says after a brief pause, "would you like to help with breakfast?"

        (Name) watches as the hot liquid drizzles into the coffee pot, rising ounce by ounce until it reaches full capacity. Jessica stood behind her cutting strawberries into a bowl.

        "You seem to know how to work that thing," Jess says, trying to make conversation.

        "Yeah. I make coffee for my dad and Dean sometimes. Never tried it though."

        "You're close with your family, aren't you?"

        "Kind of."

        "That's nice. You must have been sad when Sam left for college."

        "Devastated," (Name) mutters, turning around to look at Jessica, "We've been through a lot..."

        "I'm sure," she replies. She pops a strawberry into her mouth, then offers one to the girl. "Strawberry?"

        "Love one," (Name) smiles back, snagging one from the bowl. The two females begin to joke around, sharing the fruit between them, until Sam comes in.

        "Come on (Name), we're leaving," he says as he heads to one of the rooms at the back of the apartment. Jess follows after him. (Name) follows suit, but hesitates at the end of the hallway.

        "Wait, your taking off?" Jess's voice can be heard from the room. "Is this about your dad? Is he alright?"

        After a few minutes, Sam comes out with a duffel bag hanging from his shoulder. Jess leans against the bedroom doorway, waving goodbye. Sam took (Name) by the shoulders, guiding her out of the apartment and down the stairs.

        "So, your coming with us?" (Name) asks in hope.

        "Just until Monday."

        "Good enough for me."

Present Silence

C̲l̲o̲c̲k̲w̲o̲r̲k̲ ̲x̲ ̲N̲o̲n̲-̲B̲i̲n̲a̲r̲y̲!̲ ̲r̲e̲a̲d̲e̲r̲

❥ Warnings: mentions of neglect, mental instability, hints to eating disorder, mentions of cancer, death of a parent

𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴! 𝙸𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜.

⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

   (Y/n) wasn’t much for silence, yet it was the exact thing that haunted them in the dead of night. You could say it rooted from a traumatic event from their childhood; an abandonment that made them become almost non-pellucid to the outside world. Not that they cared. They saw society in a fixed lens, seeing every little speckle of morality as if it was a blemish on their sketch book.

  However, the white tiled halls outside their room didn’t even make any motion. No reverberation of heels clicking against the marble or the creaking of an old wheelchair rolling down the narrow walls. It’s as if the present became quietude itself. Static fills the emptiness inside (Y/n)’s head, spreading down throughout their body like a virus. It bleeds into their veins, leaving a heavy formication. Their fingers itch and claw at the ashen sheets below them, pulling at the restraints hung taut at the edge of the bed.

  They wanted to scream, beg to the black figure standing in the corner to stop. It watches them with gaping eyes, its black irises widening with delegation. The creature wasn’t real, they knew this. The suppressed subjectivity of their mind was interesting. The morbidity that it plays with made (Y/n) want to laugh. To say that it all started with a drawing was much too simple.

  The doctors liked to prescribe it as a disease; a disease that will slowly consume (Y/n) as they spiral into madness within these matted panels. (Y/n) thought of this ‘sickness’ as gospel. With their new pair of glasses, they could distinguish what was true and what was false. Who was for them and who was not. That power does come with a cost.

  (Y/n) was quite bright as a child, finding new ways to express themselves as an upcoming member of a Utopia they thought existed. With a pencil and paper, they could abstract anything that popped into their young mind. They love to draw. It was an activity that allowed them to show others how they saw the world. Bright and opportunistic, with the sun shining over everyone in brand lighting.

  ‘That world doesn’t exist. Get over your stupid dreams of becoming something that’s unrealistic.’

  Their mother had told them that a long time ago, when the colors they once saw turned bland. When their father left, life as they knew it flipped upside down. ‘You can be anything, and I’ll be there for you,’ he said. What a joke. He should have known that the cancer would get to him before (Y/n) would ever aspire in a work ethic. Their mother wasn’t much of an enthusiast, especially after her husband died. The one luminosity that ever dared to make her smile was the one that left her with a kid she didn’t even love.  

  Life wasn’t too bad. (Y/n) still had the gift of sight and vision that provided them with the love of drawing. As they woke up from the distant memory of a peachy story, they then realized their potential. No one understood their craft though, using the aphorism that grotesque and dark art did not aid in this world’s progression. (Y/n) did not adjure this type of thinking. Didn’t they see it wasn’t that of a pretentious display?

  The school recommended that they be transferred in an institute during their third year of high school. (Y/n)’s mother was more than compliant for their requests. ‘They need medical help. A kid their age should not be thinking so deeply about these things.’ The nurses were nice enough. They had charming smiles and always made nice comments on (Y/n)’s latest projects. They were fake, sadly. Though, (Y/n) appreciated their efforts to perceive the meaning.

  The crisp breath of the inky silhouette fans over (Y/n)’s face. A shudder goes down their spine, pricking their nerves like hot wax. It lies on their leaden body, grabbing at the muscles of their neck with a tight squeeze. (Y/n) was hyperventilating again, the edges of their field of vision spotting. It was a trick. Why was their mind going against them so?

  They twist and turn against the restraints tied around their limbs, the leather rubbing into their skin harshly. The feeling of it burning at the pellicle of their wrists and ankles erupts another feeling inside the pit of their stomach. They needed to get out. They wanted out. The sudden anticipation to move ached in their joints and they struggle more against the phantasmal weight on them.

  (Y/n)’s hands slip through the material, and they heave themselves upward. The darkness emitting their sight disperses into the shadows of the room, leaving them to gasp for air. Rubbing at the red pigmentation of their abused wrists, they kick off the belts holding their feet. The distant sound of a clock erupts the quiet void of the room.

  The window adjacent to the door opens gradually, and the form of a girl crawls in. The constant ticking coming from the girl’s retina eases the density crawling at (Y/n) with vigor. The static falls into a pleasant buzz on their skin.

  The girl pushes her brown locks out of her face, her one hazel orb almost glowing in the moonlight. Her sewn smile stifles one to reach (Y/n)’s blue-tinted lips. She reaches into the bag hanging over her shoulder, unzipping it with ease. She pulls out a black book and tosses it onto the thin bedding. Despite her not speaking, (Y/n) nods their head in appreciation.

  “Thank you, Clocky…” (Y/n) huskily remarks. Their fingers graze over the rough fabric of the cover and they open it to see it was another sketch book. It was probably one she snatched from one of her 'jobs’. She would never say what she did, but that didn’t cause any frustration on (Y/n)’s part. “You always know how to make me feel better…”

  “I saw you screaming again,” Clockwork replies, “Did you have another episode?” She sits down on the mattress, crossing her arms.

  (Y/n) simply taps at their head, the pads pointing towards their left eye. They suddenly get up from their position, their malnourished body contorting with audible pops. Clockwork watches them with precise movements as they grab for a box under the furniture. (Y/n) opens it, grabbing some paper and two graphite pencils.

  “Will you draw with me?” They ask sweetly.

  Clockwork looks towards the door, before breathing out. “Alright, but only for a little bit. I’m not supposed to be here.” She places herself on the cold floor as (Y/n) positions the material.

  “I’ll show you the new monster I saw tonight. I’ll call it Present Silence…” They muse as they begin to drag the charcoal tip over the clean sheet of paper with eager. Clockwork observes as they wind the black substance in circles. Normal people would call (Y/n)’s art as childish or rubbish, but she was fascinated with it. They drew the way she saw the world.

  “Are you not in the mood to draw?” (Y/n) asks, stopping for a moment to look up.

  Clockwork hums in response before grabbing the book from (Y/n)’s lap.

  “I’m not finished-” They reply, but don’t fight with her as he looks over it.

  “Present Silence, you say?”

  They nod with a smile. “It suffocated me.”

  She gathers her thoughts, before placing a hand on (Y/n)’s head. She brushes her fingers through their hair; these were the hands of a killer. Her hazel eye locks with (Y/n)’s as they wait for a response. She gives them back their art piece and picks herself off the ground.

  “Where are you going?” (Y/n) says sadly, “Stay for a little longer?”

  Clockwork climbs over the windowsill, her hand holding onto the glass. She glances back, a ghostly tender look veiling over her harsh looking demeanor. “The next time I visit, I’m bringing something special.”

  “What you bring me is always special,” They answer.

  “See you…” Clockwork says in response, closing the window back to where it was before she entered. Present Silence once again greets the lonely figure within the room.

 ⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Yummy jellybeans 🍬